#yes I am tagging that I have no chill im so sorry

[bigbuffjoonie]

SCREAMS

Okay now that I’m more normal, this fic was so thrilling! Going through the mountain pass I was holding my breath too! The feeling of dread just building up until The Splashes just -chef kiss-!! Loved everything about this and I cannot wait to see pt 2! 💕

The Obsidian Pearl (I)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 7.2k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

“Captain, this is a bad idea.”

A hush falls over the deck, a few whispers being passed back and forth between the crew as they watch you challenge the captain’s decision. There’s an audible gulp somewhere behind you as the captain pins you with a hard gaze, his jaw clenched tight with annoyance.

He taps the map that’s spread out in front of him, voice leaving no room for argument as he says, “This is the fastest route.”

“That may be, Captain, but it’s not worth the risk. Haven’t you heard the stories? The numerous crews that have gone missing after sailing in this area? There’s a reason it’s called The Dead Man’s passage!”

Keep reading

[thirteenducks]

feverish

(wriothesley x wife!reader) [sfw]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader (reader is referred to by ‘wife’ and "she/her"), established relationship, marriage, reader has hair long enough to reach neck

༻❁༺ word count: ~1.5k

༻❁༺ tags: sickfic, banter while sick, this is just wrio taking care of you and being a butt while doing it, feat. sigewinne who does not get paid enough for this, if you are sick and reading this rn im so sorry and i hope you get well soon, coldsink wrio x heatsource wife agenda

༻❁༺ author’s note: my friend @mmmairon is sick and i am in another country and cannot help so i'm sending wrio on my behalf. pls enjoy especially if you don't feel well right now :(

After a restless night, Wriothesley is thrilled to hear that you're awake now. He wastes no time in rushing to your side.

Wriothesley’s pen scratches unpleasantly against a disciplinary notice, its point threatening to carve into the wood of the desk beneath. The owner mutters darkly under his breath as he completes a signature on the offending paper and slides it to his left. Immediately, another takes its place from the stack on his right.

For two hours, nothing else has broken the quiet of the Duke’s office. Two hours too long, by Wriothesley’s measure. He glances at the clock, hand continuing to sign his name by sheer muscle memory.

Are you getting any rest? Did the chamomile from your tea an hour ago help at all, or are the throes of fever keeping you awake? Does he have the right ingredients to make you beef stew? Preoccupied, he writes “soup” on the signature line of a prisoner release form by mistake.

He sighs, pinching the crooked bridge of his nose between his fingers. They’re as cold as ever. He misses the warmth of yours unspeakably.

The next thirty minutes pass like an eternity. Surely, Sigewinne would be at his side in an instant if you were awake. His presence there now would only serve to wake you from much-needed rest and defer his backlog of paperwork even more. Neither of these points keeps him from staring the clock down like he’s in the ring again.

Suddenly, there’s a quiet knock on his door and Wriothesley snaps to attention, nearly knocking over an inkwell in his haste. Sigewinne enters without his bidding, an unreadable expression on her kind face. She doesn’t wait for his question before she answers it.

“Yes, the tea put her to sleep, and yes, she’s awake now.”

His features relax in a moment, the furrow in his brow smoothing.

“I’m afraid she’s not any better than she was this morning, however. I would have really liked to see her fever come down by now...” The Melusine trails off, her small hand on her chin and a pout on her face. “The chill probably isn’t doing her much good, either.”

Her boss, however, is already halfway downstairs, pulling his coat on as he takes the steps two at a time. Sigewinne sighs as she turns to follow him at a much slower pace. So predictable when his wife is involved.

In contrast to the speed at which he crosses the fortress to your shared living quarters, Wriothesley’s steps are soft as he nears your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart? Are you up?”

A weak cough answers him. He’s by the bedside in a moment, kneeling and pushing aside the curtain that hides you from him. Your eyes squint a bit as the sickly light of the fortress filters in, and his hand moves up to shield your face as he appears in your field of vision.

Despite the red ringing your eyes and nose and the congestion in your breathing, you smile up at him and his heart almost jumps out of his chest.

“Hi, darling.”

The side of his mouth quirks up. “Hi. Feeling any better?”

You shake your head slightly, your hair fanning out on the pillow beneath you. He silently gathers it in one hand and moves it away from your neck as he waits for you to continue. The brush of his cool hand against your flushed skin feels incredible and you bring your hand to rest on his, a silent entreaty to keep it there.

“Sigewinne says I’m in the worst of it now and that from here-” you stop to cough, Wriothesley’s eyes raking over your frame as it shakes with the effort. “-from here it should be uphill. As long as I can rest up today.”

He pushes the hair back from your forehead with his other hand, stroking it absentmindedly. “Well, we’ll have to stick it out until tomorrow then, huh?” The grin he shoots you, all teeth, does more for you than you think any of the medicine on your bedside table has.

That’s why you’re as surprised as he is when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. You hadn’t even known they were there until now, but suddenly it’s so much harder to breathe than it was and Wriothesley is a swimming blur in front of you. The shooting pain in your head, dulled to an ache until now, comes back in full force as your body curls in on itself and your temple meets your husband’s shoulder.

You don’t know if you’re crying from the headache, from exhaustion, or from something else, and your mind is too foggy to care. All you can do is be held as his arms come to rest firmly around you and he pulls you to him, murmuring words of comfort.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry... I wish I could do more.” Your hands grip his collar a little tighter as you sob into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “I know, love. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. Sigewinne and I are gonna take care of everything, okay?”

There’s an edge of concern to his voice that you can hear even through the haze of sickness. You hate it. It’s likely just the seasonal flu; half the Fortress has had it at some point this winter. The thought of how much you were making him worry over something so small as this...

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it,” Wriothesley gently reprimands, his cool fingers stroking your forehead again. You can feel the cold metal of his wedding ring against the heated skin. “You’re not being a baby about anything. You hear me?”

Your silence speaks volumes. He laughs a little, the sound loud in the silence of your bedroom. “I know you well, don’t I?”

It takes a while for your tears to completely subside. When you’re finished sniffling against his collar, he props you up against the headboard with pillows behind your back. You’re more congested than ever, something your husband has the nerve to laugh at as he hands you tissues, but there’s no unkindness in his tone.

He disappears into the kitchen for a few minutes as you doze, exhausted from the effort of crying for so long. When he eases the door open again, he’s carrying a tray with a teacup and pot (of course) and a bowl of something that smells warm and comforting.

“Hmm. Excellent room service this place has. The waiter is a little scruffy, though,” you say as Wriothesley places it on your lap, tucking in the covers around you.

He gives you a fake look of injury. “How dare you, ma’am. I’ll have you know I’m too worried about my wife to shave, who I’m afraid is deathly ill,” he sighs, stroking the stubble on his jaw. He spoons soup into your mouth before you can retort, stifling a smile.

Once you’ve drained half the soup, Wriothesley seems satisfied. He removes the tray from your lap and takes your hand, bringing it to his own forehead.

“Oh, no. How awful.” He shoots you a glance. “It appears the Duke of the Fortress has come down with something.”

You raise an eyebrow. His forehead is as cool as the rest of him is. “Really.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, flopping onto your lap. “It looks like he’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day.”

You laugh, wincing when it makes your head throb. “The Duke sounds like a slacker, if you ask me.”

“Well, everyone knows that,” Wriothesley murmurs, burying his face into your thigh. “They’ll have to tell my boss about it.” You feel him grin against your leg.

You sigh, feigning exasperation. “What a shame. I was just about to ask him to dinner, too.”

Wriothesley has migrated to his side of the bed by now and is nestling into your side with the stubbornness of a dog. “Don’t worry, I hear he’s a messy eater. Absolute carnivore.”

Your hands come to rest on his head, the soft grey strands tickling your palms. “You know you’re going to get sick, right? I’m highly contagious.”

No answer.

“You’re the head of the Fortress, Wrio. If you get laid up, Sigewinne might put a bounty out on you. She seems like the type.”

Your husband murmurs into your side, already half-asleep. “She’ll have to catch me first.”

Despite your many blankets and the body next to you, a sudden chill runs through you and you stiffen. He feels it, arms tightening around your waist.

“Fever pills are on the bedside in the white bottle. Water is next to it.”

You smile. “Thank you, darling.” He hums in response.

A few days later, you’re well enough to leave your room again. Sigewinne would be thrilled, if not for your husband, who looks more smug than any sick man has a right to be.

He sniffles, burrowing into your sheets again as the Melusine glares daggers at him. “I’ll be fine. My wife loves me and I have leftover soup in the fridge. What else does a man need?”

[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.

[winterrrnight]

hellraiser (part II)

PAIRING: drew starkey x co-star!actress!reader

SUMMARY: an instagram blurb about drew and his co-star y/n and dating allegations

FACE CLAIM: Emma Myers

WARNINGS: pictures with blood and alcohol

EDITH SPEAKS: AND ITS OUT!! I hope you all enjoy because this is giving me life 🤭🤭 I'm sick but I've never felt happier because I am spending my day in my bed reading and completely chilling :')

a lil disclaimer ab the second post: I made up the fact that drew is allergic to nuts!!

I made up all the instagram users, so if by any chance I have your instagram user used here, I'm so sorry I promise it was a total coincidence!

if you enjoyed this please reblog!! feedback is always appreciated 🌼

this is part two to this fic!

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ynupdates yn via ig stories!

tagged: yourinstagram, drewstarkey

starkeylove they are just casually posting their own stuff as if people aren't speculating something more between them 😭💀

user31 LMAOO

rafezcameron not them completely ignoring the dating allegations

-> obxfan11 honestly, slayed

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yourinstagram picnics w this one

tagged: drewstarkey

drewstarkey the way you almost killed me with those brownies

-> yourinstagram I forgot you are allergic to nuts okay??? give it up now 🙄

-> ynfan21 OH SHIT

-> cameronluvbot YNNNNN ADBSHAJSJAEOW

-> iheartyn YN???? WHAT THE FUCK????

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rafestarkey they give me major bi panic

iloveyn THEYRE GOING ON PICNICS TOGETHER???

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drewstarkey hellraiser ft me & this random woman is out now hope u enjoy

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yourinstagram 'random woman'? WOW

-> drewstarkey 😘

madelyncline 4+4

-> drewstarkey ♥️

iluvrafe omggg this movie is so so good and you both are so perfect 😭😭

rafeyyy YALL ARE SO AMAZING

ynrocks THEIR ACTING >>>>

-> ynfan21 THEM >>>>

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yourinstagram the after party hits hard

tagged: drewstarkey

drewstarkey yes it hit hard because you got so drunk you bumped into a wall

-> yourinstagram and now my forehead has swollen up

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nick_v_cirillo i missed it :/

-> yourinstagram and we missed you ☹️

drewslove yn and drew seem like the best people to party with

-> rafes_starkey and they also seem like the best therapists

-> drewfan12 REAL

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tagged: yourinstagram, drewstarkey

ynvibez AND THIS ONE ISNT DELETED????

rafezcameron OH SHITTT

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drewstarkey happy birthday to the one who makes me so happy 💗

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[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Chilling

Pairing: Henry X (f)Reader

Synopsis: You were in love with the blacksmith's boy since you were both children. One day, he stumbles into into the apothecary, covered in blood and wounds, asking for you. As the last survivor of the hunting party, you start to suspect what has changed him.

Tags: fluff, eventual smut, werewolves, friends to lovers, mutual pining, angst, danger, some death, gore,

Chapter 3

Instantly, the room erupted into motion. The healthier patients rushed to help the wounded hunter. Milly, a young girl who had been battling the flu, felt a sudden surge of energy as she sprinted to the village, proclaiming Henry's return. Within the hour, half the village gathered, anxious for news.

Rebecca emerged, her stern voice cutting through the crowd. “disperse unless you are sick! He is not fit for visitors at his state!”

The villagers scattered, leaving the apothecary to focus on the wounded and the healing.

Rebecca tended to the other patients, assigning Henry to you. You washed his battered body, wrapping him in furs to ward off the fever.

Puncture wounds covered him. You delicately applied salve to each one. Gently covering a giant bite mark on his torso with gauze, then taking care of other wounds. He was sweating even when unconscious and unmoving, and each time you reached for his pulse, his heart beat violently and rapidly. His strength now seemed so fragile in his wounded state.

Unconscious for most of the next day, he drifted in and out of awareness. Night fell, and Rebecca, exhausted, retired to sleep. You continued your duties, tending to the other patients, deflecting questions about Henry 's condition.

At one point, as you lifted one of his eyelids to check his pupils' response, Henry 's eyes were an odd yellow color before they fluttered closed again. That was odd. Just as you went to look for a book that may have more information on the weird change, his hand shot out, grabbing yours.

Surprised by his conscious state, he tried to ask him about the attack. "Henry? It's me. You're alright, you're safe."

Henry, still disoriented, looked at you and rasped weakly, “Y/n... my y/n..."

You blushed, nodding, "Yes, y/n."

Henry, his gaze distant, rasped, "Am I dead?"

"No," you couldn't help but laugh. "You're alright. You're at the apothecary." You reassured him, helping him take small sips of broth to aid his recovery. “Let me just get Rebecca, and I'll be right back.”

But as you stood to assist Rebecca, Henry 's grip on your hand remained firm. “Stay,” he looked at you, hazy brown eyes with a yellow ring around the edges of his irises begging. "Please stay."

“Alright,” you took a seat near his bed. He still hadn't let go of your hand, eyeing it in his.

Suddenly, he brought it up to his lips and kissed your palm. “I'm so happy you're here y/n, so fucking happy.”

Your touch unknowingly provoked an animalistic response from him. His breathing deepened, and there was a raw hunger in his veins, though he didn't yet understand what was happening. He felt the sudden urge to pull you closer, to claim you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but his affectionate gesture turned into something unexpected. His kisses became insistent, evolving into licks and nips. Your breath hitched as you felt an odd run feeling down your spine. Torn between concern for him and the growing realization that something wasn't right, you frantically cleared your throat, wondering if his shock caused him to behave this way.

Realizing what he was doing, Henry s eyes widened, and he instantly let go of your hand. "Im sorry. You just smell... so good." He blinked in confusion.

You drew your hand back, turning away so that he doesn't see your furious blush. "I-its alright. You're still in shock."

He nodded, laying back down in the bed, running his hand through his hair. This sickness felt different than any he's lived through. His fever, restlessness, and aches in his body felt unnatural. Throughout the night, he couldn't stop sweating, his heartbeat pounding louder than usual, his breath becoming more ragged.

And he couldn't get your scent out of his mind. Especially not as you tended to him. Your gentle touch when you wiped his brow, your delicate hands tending to his wounds. All while his body started to change beneath your hands.

The scarriest part was that he couldn't remember anything about the encounter with the wolf.

Henry awoke, the heaviness that had gripped him the past few nights lifting as he found himself more or less back to his usual self. But as his eyes focused, he realized that you were nowhere to be seen. Panic seized him, and he stumbled out of bed, frantically searching the apothecary. Other than a sleeping Rebecca and a few patients, there was no one there. He stumbled out to the village.

Covered in sweat, Henry asked every villager he encountered about you, his mind racing with a desperate need to have you by his side, to hold your hand once more, to feel your touch. The villagers were all surprised to see him in perfect shape, especially considering the state hi was in when he returned.

Every time someone asked him about his health, he growled in response, asking for your whereabouts.

As he rushed through the village, his fevered mind playing tricks on him, he crossed paths with Valerie. Concern etched across her face, she asked why he was out of bed, checking his forehead and informing him that his fever still raged. Ignoring her words, he pleaded for information about you.

Valerie tried to calm him, explaining that you had only gone to the well for more water and would be back soon.

"She went into the woods alone?" he nearly snarled.

Before Valerie could respond. Henry was already racing in the direction of the well, on the outskirts of the village, bordering the edge of the forest.

His heart pounded in his chest as he pushed through the village outskirts, your familiar scent creating his path to the well now feeling like an eternity. The trees rustled as he ventured further, fueled by the desperation to find you. Each step echoed yearning and fear intertwining in the cold of the forest.

Henry's breath caught as he finally spotted you at the well. The faint winter sunlight illuminated you as you pulled water. Your braid fell apart in a cascade of loose strands, framing your face that reflected how exhausted you were after the past week. Despite your sunken cheeks and eyebags, you hummed a quiet melody, a tune that he recalled you singing in the apothecary. You were beautiful.

But as Henry gazed upon you, an unusual hunger took over him. It wasn't the hollow ache he had grown accustomed to during those long, lonely nights of sickness when he was a child. This hunger was different. It wasn't for sustenance; it was a hunger for you, an insatiable need to hold you and keep you. Same as a couple of nights ago. He struggled to maintain control. He could smell your sweet scent and... and even heard your heartbeat. Yes, he was certain that the rhythm is coming from you.

Every step toward you is full of urgency, a magnetic pull drawing him closer. Henry's pulse quickened, synchronized with the rhythm of his longing. As he closed the distance, he found himself salivating, the anticipation of being near you.

"Y/n," he called, his voice a mixture of longing and urgency. You jumped at the sound, turning towards him with concern etched on her face. "What are you doing out of bed? You'll catch a cold!"

Henry was beyond caring about the cold. In fact, he barely felt it. His hands ached until they found you, pulling you towards him. In an instant, he enveloped you in his arms, his face buried in the warmth of your neck. Your skin was soft. He whispered your name, a fervent mantra he kept repeating.

You, caught off guard by the intensity of Henry's embrace, felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. Henry's hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed.

You gasped as his lips found yours, the kiss deep and passionate. His hands slid down to your waist, gripping tightly as he lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the well.

"Y/n," he growled, his voice filled with desire. "Dont ever go out in the woods alone again."

Wide-eyed and in shock. You panted as you offered a weak nod, still processing that kiss. You couldn't believe the man you were in love with had just stolen your first kiss.

"Swear it." He ordered, his eyes darkening as he punched up the material of your dress.

"I-I swear." You muttered, blushing.

Everyone gathered in church the next morning. Henry was met with cheers and hugs from the villagers, who were all happy he was back. He walked to sit next to you on the pew, putting his hand on your knee and smiling warmly at you.

The sermon began. The priest spoke about the gruesome killings, trying to raise morale by saying, "Our Henry survived the beast and came back to us. With strong men like him, the village will overcome this threat."

Everyone took a sigh of releif. It was the first time that the village felt this safe in a while.

Henry tried to focus on the priests words, but his senses were overcome with you. He heard your pulse, see every detail of your skin, eyes, hair, lips, to the outline of your breasts under the bodice of your dress. He felt overcome with possessiveness. Is this how other men in the village saw his you as well?

He could also smell you. You smelled so sweet and pure.

Suddenly, you felt Henry's hand slide higher up your thigh, squeezing. She didn't make a sound, afraid people around would notice.

A woman who sat beside you, Margaret, noticed your tense posture and asked you, "Are you alright?"

"She's tired. After all, she was treating me all day yesterday." henry spoke to the woman in your stead.

Not noticing his hand on your skirt, the woman turned to Henry. "Im so happy you're back, dear. We were all worried sick. It's awful. Just awful what happened."

"Thank you." Henry smiled to the woman.

The sermon went on, and you felt a warm sensation spreading in your belly.

The villagers continued to listen to the priestcaught up in the moment, grateful that henry had returned safely after facing the beast that had been terrorizing the village. As the sermon came to an end, you were flushed and out of breath.

[sneppu]

Hello! Welcome to The Sneep Zone

You may call me Nagi

Main blog: @nagoo (I'm also on Bluesky! absolutely NO MINORS on the bluesky, no exceptions. nsfw art will be going there.)

@headmasterseverussnape and @sevsbestfriend are my beloveds

u better be able to tell fiction from reality i stg.

first and foremost: fuck jkr. i do not endorse her. i do not agree with her. we dont do that weird shit here.

we do different weird shit instead (bask in the decadence of The Sneep)

This sideblog is for me to post all my Snape art and Snape related ramblings! I am addicted to snape fics, and have found myself needing to make fanart for some of my favorite writers. such things will be posted here!

Severus Snape is my favorite guy!

I am known to refer to him as: Sneep, Snorp, Sneb, The Sneberous Sneb, The Snebulous One, He Who Sneeps In The Dark, SneepSnorp, Mother, Sneppu, El Sneepo, Snorpo, Snib, The Best One, The Only One That Matters, The Community Boyfriend, Babygirl, etc.

rest assured, I am talking about Severus Snape every single time

I ship him with everyone! yes, even [insert character]. I always tag ships so block the tag or w/e if theres one you dont like.

I truly and genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, do not care even a little bit about The Grievances u may have about my ships or my sneeps. I cannot stress enough how much that is not my problem. If you're the type to throw a tantrum over ships and fictional content I'm just gonna block you tbh.

Dark/Fucky content WILL be found on this blog. Snape was practically MADE for that shit and I like to project my traumas onto him so like. ykno. I expect ppl with critical thinking on here ONLY.

in my ideal world, everyone would love and cherish Sneep. I tend to focus on marauder's era Snape

not to be rude, but i kind of only care about Snape really. the slytherins are cool and chill too (especially Lucius, Rosier, and Mulciber), but i mostly care about how they interact with and potentially fall in love with The Sneep. the marauders are rat bastards and i ship them with Snape in a "grovel eternally for the scraps of his affection" kind of way. I am not sorry.

dont expect nothing serious from me unless im waxing poetic about Snape or heavily projecting my own Tragic Past onto him tbh, and even then...

i have zero interest in any debates whatsoever. i cannot emphasize this enough, my thoughts are disjointed and nonsensical. The mere thought of having a serious debate about anything is stressful and unpleasant. I mean it as kindly as possible when I say it makes my eyes glaze over.

i am just here to draw Snape and shitpost about my favorite little guy.

i dont care that he's mean.

he shouldve been meaner, actually.

he's better than me and he's probably better than you too, because i wouldve absolutely lost it big boy style.

Art tag: #nagi nyart

Have you ever written a fanfic about Severus Snape? If so, please PLEASE read this post Here

this shouldnt even have to be said but please do not??? take me stuffs and completely re-upload it without credit or permission?? dont do that to anyone, actually? like idk basic courtesy towards artists or w/e. you know better, i know you do.

BUT that said.. using my stuff for your header or profile pic is fine with credit somewhere easily visible, like the profile description, or pinned post!

[mythalism]

more solavellan ending thoughts under cut

reading thru the solavellan tag and wow i am so sorry to the people who are so upset at the bittersweetness and messiness overall because i understand how upset they must feel but also im reading these posts so shocked bc idk what people expected??????? i feel like the toxicity and ambiguity of solas/mythals relationship has been clear since trespasser. we have been debating whether or not they were romantic ourselves for 10 years have we not?? i literally made a poll about our predictions about this like a month ago lmao. idk why people are so blindsided by the suggestion that they were fucked up lovers. anyway i loved mythals role in this game. she is an absolute freak and i thought it was the most nuanced and morally grey part of the entire game which was overall sorely lacking in any exploration of morality outside of solas. i enjoyed how villainous he was - again, what did you expect!? we knew he was like this. yes we saw another side of him in inquisition but we have also seen him in myth and in tevinter nights and in the masked empire, we knew what he was capable of. i was really pleased that he was villainous instead of woobified and wiped of all moral ambiguity.

i think his relationship to Mythal also added amazing depth and context to solavellan. i am seeing so many people saying that him having loved Mythal cheapens his love for solavellan which is honestly just wild. a lot of people in this world love more than one person in their life LMFAO. and she wasn’t just some ex gf SHE MADE HIM. she made him into who he is, literally is the reason he exists as he does. he owed everything to her, including his regrets. and it helps us understand why he could not abandon his path for lavellan and why he could not let her join him. to abandon his goals for her would be to betray himself the same way he betrayed himself for Mythal- and look where it got him. it destroyed the world and it destroyed him. and neither could he allow her to follow him because then he would be asking her to do the same thing Mythal asked of him. “I would follow you anywhere” he says in the memory of him taking a body. “i thought i would follow him anywhere” our inquisitor later says to rook. of course he could not let her do that, it’s what Mythal did to him.

Mythal showing up and telling him the burden wasn’t just his and that she released him literally gave me chills. the way he absolutely crumples in her presence was so devastating… and then when he’s bent over crying and lavellan gets on her knees to look up at him. INSANE. INSANE MOMENT. overall I thought their dialogue towards each other was perfect, even if the kiss felt off to me. just bad timing I think…? and bad animation? i think a hand to the cheek would’ve been better. he was literally going through it in that moment so kissing him then felt kind of wild LMFAO. I think that is my overall complaint about the scene is how quick it happens and because it’s happening at the same time as he’s having like 15 other revelations and being given therapy by 3.5 different women at the same time, their reunion doesn’t get quite enough space to breathe on it’s own. i would bet money that the people who are upset about mythals involvement would be less so if the reunion between him and the inquisitor, and the reunion between he and Mythal were two separate scenes both given their own space.

i also think it felt sudden just because we are not in our inquisitor’s head. obviously she makes it pretty clear that she wants to run off with him when you talk to her in the beginning of act 3, I also got a fun comment between her and Dorian in the final mission where he asks if she’s going back to the south after this and she says “something like that” LMFAOOO. but overall I think her just being like ok! Im coming to the fade with you pookie! would have felt more natural if it was drawn out over a longer period of time in the game. it was perfectly in character for my inky so that’s not an issue, I just think it would have been nice to see her reasons and more grappling with the decision. literally the perfect way to do this would’ve been to have her visit the lighthouse and witness his memories and old home herself and see the true extent of his sorrow and loneliness!!! but that would be a lot of work and time and money and whatever so it’s okay.

despite enjoying the ending I still feel just really anxious, I think partly because that entire end sequence was fucking insane and I’m going to be reeling for a long time but I also think the vagueness of their future is gnawing at me. it is very bittersweet and i would’ve liked…. Any explanation as to where the hell they’re going? are they trapped? can’t they just get out? rook got out by facing their regrets so can’t solas just do the same with lavellans help? how is he helping heal the titans if he’s stuck in the fade? why is he in the fade at all? elgarnan was keeping the veil intact with his life force while outside of the fade literally 5 minutes ago. clearly they don’t have to be in the fade to keep the veil up, they just have to be alive. so why are they in the fucking fade LMAO. I thought they were going to literally give up their mortal bodies and become spirits together and then return to the fade, which I think would’ve been my preferred ending. it is a little more full circle; him taking a body for mythal, and lavellan leaving her body behind for him. I think the insinuation that they’re imprisoned is what bothers me and makes me so anxious because idk it’s just brutal???? they are just gonna sit there for eternity??? is lavellan mortal still??? it just seems to be the only part of this that is unsatisfying to me, I just don’t understand the intention. because solas makes it sound so terrible when he literally calls it terrible, and then the epilogue slide of them it clearly looks lovely and sweet and joyful. So I’m genuinely just confused. Hopefully someone will ask trick on blue sky soon. ok I’m literally falling asleep bc it’s 2:40 am so i am going to go dream about them making out in the fade. I can’t believe it’s over I am going to have to mourn the end of this story for a long time

[fandxmslxt69]

CLEM'S BIRTHDAY HANG OUT!!

Hello friends!

As March comes to an end (my birth month wooo) I thought it would be a fun idea to have a little hang out during the last week! So from March 25 - 31 we are PARTYING !

Sort of!

My askbox is open to all sorts of silly dilly fun time! This is my first little hang out so PLEASE BE KIND TO ME i'm just a silly girl who wants to make friends and have some fun! I'm also hoping this might get me back into writing!

Yes, the poster is all Loki NO HE'S NOT THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION!! Here's a little info I guess (I am just winging this as we speak, it is not very thought out):

Rules & Info

The event will run from 03/25 to 03/31 - you can send in as many asks and hang out as much as you would like!!! No I will not kill you if you drop a hello in my askbox start of April - to be honest, I love friends so I won't ever turn anyone away

You can stop by my askbox to say hi, share some thoughts (or thots...) tell me anything, or play a game! (will talk about that in a bit)

Anyyyyoneeee is welcome I don't care if we aren't mutuals or we don't even talk, STOP BY AND SAY HI :D If you are rude or disrespectful in any way, I will kick your butt and break your nose.

This is a positive, fun zone. I just want to have my fun and mind my business, please don't be trying to cause problems. I'm a relatively small blog so thankfully no one really looks my way but I've had some bumps in the past.

THIS IS MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS AND IM LITERALLY GOING TO DIE FROM NERVES SO BE PATIENT WITH ME OKAY

Games:

Fuck, marry, kill - send me any three characters that you want me to decide a fate for....oh my god please don't make me kill anyone I love dearly....

Blurbs!! - send me a little prompt/kink/thought & a character and I will try SOOOOO HARD to put out a little itty bitty something of writing! Like 500 words or so!! Can be fluffy or smutty. Angst is not allowed unless its just a LITTLE sad and with lots of fluffy stuff after

Character Association - tell me about yourself and let me give you a character. This is literally my favourite game ever, and I swear I'm super good at it

Book Recs - tell me your reading vibes/popular tropes you like and I will give you FIVE (not one, not two, but FIVE!!!) book recs because I like talking about books. If you show up talking about non fiction, then sorry but I am not your gal at all.

Chat - Come talk!! Come chat!! Come say hi and giggle with me about anything!! Come be crazy with me over narratives and themes and character arcs!!! Tell me about school or your day, your OCs, latest WIPs or anything currently on your mind!

Okay that's all I could come up with but literally any and all games are free game. I am keeping this as chill and lowkey as possible.

Characters/Fandoms:

You guys already KNOW my vibes and what I'm around and what I'm not, so feel free to send anything! I float around Marvel/DC (just send in any character and if I don't vibe with it I'll just let you know or leave it unanswered), I think it's obviously I'm Oscar Isaac obsessed....um. Pretty much anything. It's free game and I'll put my foot down if I'm down okay with something or don't want to answer :D

I'm..about to tag some friends...if that's okay...

@divine-knight-hand @romanarose @sarahscribbles @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @sailorholly @in-som-niyah @fictive-sl0th @mischief2sarawr @saturn-rings-writes @superficialdomina @planetwaynez...and I can't remember anyone else now I'm sorry LMAO

KISSES EVERYONE <3

Clem

PS: If you're worried whether I'm comfy or not or familiar with a character or not, just send it in anyway and we'll figure it out from there!

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

Ayo! I haven't answered asks in FOREVER, so it's time for some spring cleaning :) Also answering other stuff, like what I've been up to.

If you sent an ask and it's not here, sorry! I may have deleted it because the prompt required too much work of me and I wasn't feeling it, or I was uncomfortable.

Let's gooooo !

Firstly - where have I been? Work REALLY picked up in a way I wasn't expecting over the last...4 months? I was working double and often triple the hours I was used to. With work, vacations, random illnesses, and many video games I got a bit too obsessed with, this blog took a backseat. Plus, sometimes I get disinterested in vore when obsessed with something else. Sometimes, that lasts months, and it did this time.

But now I can confirm that work will FINALLY chill for a long period of time. I'm free! And more motivated than ever! Wahoo! Thanks for your support ALWAYS.

Next big question - when am I going to do more of my story? The one with Asyr? AHHHHHGHHGHH this story has consumed my life. I think about it daily. I dream about it. And yet I'm not as comfortable writing as I am drawing, so writing is a slow process that my perfectionist ass struggles with. I can assure you that there is a story in the works - and I am working on it at a snail's pace.

Okay, ask time...

@ponyluvesonic09 AYO maybe I'll make a full ghost pred pros/con list for you, because that sounds awesome! Kir//by is one of the silliest canon preds out there. Honestly getting eaten by him would be like getting vored by a vacuum, LOL. Galaxy tummy!! Imagine a prey floating around in one of those item bubbles all grumpy. Thank u for the ask, this is good stuff.

no. ( /・・)ノ

UWAGHHHHH I LIKE HER!!! Never played O/verwat/ch but what a gem!! I have a random fondness for centaur-like preds nowadays. She looks so cozy. THANK U I LOVE HER!!!

@tiger9o0 I have not played r//ain w//orld or know what it's about, LOL. Looks like a platformer? Man, I'm terrrriiiiibblleee at those. But whoever this is on the cover, I LIKE EM. A+. (That might not answer ur question shdjbghkjg SORRY)

@heimkoheimkofan LOVE THAT I GOT THE ROBOT ENJOYERS AFTER THAT ONE POST....YES yall are so right and I'm so wrong for just hard metal robot tums. I will rectify my mistake soon I PROMISE. Also oh! You were the one asking about stomachs other than elemental ones! IVE HAD THAT IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER IM SORRY AHHHH. I REALLY love your imagination with tums and you've inspired me to think of some awesome environments! THANKS

@fastfur07 BWAH?? Ugh I'm all over the place when it comes to art. Some pieces take 30 min (like the zangooc I drew at the top of this post), most take 2 days. Some really hard drawings like my wolf bat creechur from a few months ago and my shrimp from last year took a month. THANK U??

We're going back so far that I think this is about my naga oc (which I'm in the midst of redesigning cough cough). For him, he would never tolerate being prey, extremely unwilling bahaha. In general, I haven't thought much about naga or snake prey! I get the appeal of slurping up a noodle, but I just prefer human prey :)

@fastfur07 you fiend, you always give me the best drawing ideas. UNFORTUNATELY, I didn't have time to draw something for this one. BUTTTT....

(i've had this next one in my drafts for forever)

then i had a silly comic. I'll post the wip here because I won't finish it, so enjoy bahaha.

@blizzaria123-blog THANK U im rapidly melting into a puddle from ur words

@mrpotatomanversionsix relevant. i will continue drawing them 4 u

?!??!!??!?!??!?!?!??!?!? how dare u enter my ask box with this blasphemy

@sfwsillynoms WAH!!! you!!! I'm currently redesigning my naga oc but when I finish I'll tag you, if you're still around! And he can 100% be drawn with ur preysona :)

@mystorl i am SO late to this, but SMART. I like it. I shall give my lil guy this friend. I just want to let u know that I see this and it's wonderful and I will do something abt it.

I remember this ask made me laugh a ton when I first got it. thank u. idk why I find this so funny

@sillylilprey IM CRYING RIGHT BACK AHHHH this is an ancient ask, but thank u! hope you're still enjoying!

@terrytheinsane finally, the last ask in my askbox. I love it. You have been wronged with how long it took me to answer you. I have gained knowledge from your ask. THANKS

AND THAT'S IT!! Thanks guys, I hope to make you proud! Feel free to send more asks, and hopefully I will answer in a TIMELY manner.

Goodnight! And remember: Nice Vore ᕕ༼⌐■-■༽ᕗ

[kiburebuc]

ten (not ten, sorry) people you'd like to know better!

ty for the tag @wwoofington ;;

last song: Machine Messiah - Yes (last of what i think is the 'classic' yes albums. 90125 was next and completely changed their style. absolutely adore after and before ofc but its interesting to hear some of the later (becoming 80s) style in there)

favorite colour: purple,,, or greeen, or blue, or seafoam. seafoam final answer i think, i am indecisive

last book: Jim Henson: The Biography (finally finishing it up before i go onto another scifi series, maybe retry Red Mars, idk)

last movie: Watched Sixth Sense with my mom, i usually dont like M Night movies but this being one of the (if not *the*) "good one," i liked it a lot

last tv show: Just rewatched the mandatory autumn Over the Garden Wall rewatch with my sister, otherwise im ongoing in watching The Sopranos

sweet/spicy/savory: spicyyyyy, everything should have a little spice in it

relationship status: single, just chilling

last thing i googled: "archipelago randomizer" watching carlsagan42 play The Witness (i lovelovelove the witness) and a chat member said it worked through 'archipelago' and i wondered what that was! (its a game randomizer engine)

current obsession(s): i dont think much really? i dont get obsessed over things, though im always obsessed with furries, cars, other stuff. recently been feeling very feral dog, hence trying to go on the backpacking trip and trying to do more outdoors

looking forward to: • hanging out with friends soon! my childhood friend max has a birthday next weekend im so excited to go bowling with her • meeting a clinician for an appointment for my adhd meds to hopefully make college a lot easier • changes on hrt

tagging: im so tired sorry uhmmmmm feel free to do this whoever sees ;;

[theflaggerrrr]

Hi, this is my MOGAI flag making account.

My name is Francis or Funbus (@thescaryhyperfem). I make flags as a coping mechanism and for fun. I use she/her. I am a minor, queer, otherkin, a furry and many others.

I will be either referring to myself as Willy (scroll down) or refer to Willy in third person in this account.

WARNING: THIS FLAG MAKER IS TERRIBLE AT NAMING COLORS WHEN MAKING IDS. SORRY!

[ID: A blurry divider with a gradient color that goes from blue to orange.]

My flag requests are open for whitelist only for now.

My blacklist, aka things that I will not do, is rad//queer, trans//id, ki//nk or "after da//rk", intersex (im perisex), religious-related, TCO//AAL, D/Q//SMP, any disorder flag (besides autism, BPD and NPD), blankqueer, etc. I have the rights to turn down any requests.

My whitelist, aka themes I REALLY like making, is SCP, Cleetus (Flamingo), Lapfox Trax, Dave and Bambi, (self)ships, Brazilian-related terms, Regretevator and South Park (will be tagged as "tw south park" or so), Team Fortress 2, Your Favorite Martian and Flipline Studios. This may be edited from time to time.

[ID: A blurry divider with a gradient color that goes from blue to orange.]

My Boundaries:

Reposting: Yes

Adding to wikis / sites: Yes, with credits only

Using my gender systems: Yes

Drawing Willy: Yes

Headcanoing Willy: Yes

NSFW/Suggestive of Willy: No

Other boundaries:

Please do not ask me about shipcourse or syscourse stances as I despise both.

This may be edited from time to time.

[ID: A blurry divider with a gradient color that goes from blue to orange.]

Directory:

#Willy makes Sillys - Flags I made.

#Willy gets serious - Flags with more serious meanings (eg. Trauma).

#Willy fucks around - Flags made as a joke.

#Willy! Don't say that! - (reclaimed) Slur related flags.

#Willy makes sequels - Recoined/Reclaimed/Remade flags.

#Flags from Other Account - Flags from my main account.

#The Vexifox Strikes! - Coining and Non-Coining posts that received a free flag from Willy.

#Willy Rambles - Willy when he's not making flags.

#Brazil Exclusive - Self Explanatory

#Not Flags - Self Explanatory

[ID: A blurry divider with a gradient color that goes from blue to orange.]

The toy in my PFP is a dog toy i bought for myself named Willy, he uses he/they. He is basically the mascot of this account.

[ID: A picture of a close up face of a blue and orange toy fox with white fluff.]

More info about Willy below (long text):

Willy, the VexiFox (he/they)

appearance:

Willy is an orange and blue fox with black outter ears and a white snout. His hands, feet and the middle of his torso are blue colored.

Willy has a stub tail, a fluffy snout and a cubby body.

story:

Willy was raised as a very nice kid. His mother teached him how to defend himself and his father teached him how to hunt— although be was never interested in hurting other animals, making his dad disappointed. He was always interested in things considered "gay" at the time and he was bullied many times in his life.

When Willy became old enough, he went to a bar and saw a pack of bears in it. His mothers always told him to be aware of bears, and how they are "dangerous predators", but he didn't listen. He had a small talk with the bears, and turns out, they were all chill. He became friends with the bears and, after some weeks of friendship, he discovered himself as a gay man. He wanted to come out to his parents, but it was too late, they had already discovered. Willy was kicked out of the house and was forced to live with one of his friends.

Many months later, Willy found himself to be super interested in vexillography, and started to make his own flags. He had recently found out about the Queer Community, so he decided to focus on making flags about it. He sold flags to the local queers at his place and, although he received a lot of backlash, he wasn't going to back off.

Later on in life, when he was much older, he opened up a Tumblr account for his own queer flags.

The flags in the image are gay (Gilbert Baker), trans ally and my own version of the vexillography flag.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Hi, do you take requests for x readers? Im really wanting some natemare x reader (they/she pronouns) fluffy cuddles maybe a cute date? Protective and mildly possessive Mare has my heart lol hes so precious and i love him, maybe its a date and Mare left to get drinks or something and a creep wouldnt leave y/n alone so Mare has to step in etc? Its okay if not that and its okay if you dont write x readers too ^-^ thanks :P

Call me Lyxie or Lyx ^-^

(for anon, ill be either Lyxie/Lyx or ^-^ anon if theyre free :P)

Weeeeell, this is a tiny bit awkward, considering the role I wrote Natemare into for Goretober 2022 (sue me, I took inspiration from FNAF lore.) But I'm still happy to write for him again! I really appreciate your patience. Hope it's okay!

(I am SO, SO, SO SORRY this took such an incredibly long time to post! The Goretober stuff and my last-minute Halloween Special Story had already been keeping me busy, AND THEN CHRISTMAS SEASON CAUGHT ME SO OFF-GUARD THAT MY HEAD IS STILL SPINNING FROM IRL CHAOS. I guess I should've expected that, because Christmas is always like that, but whatever.)

(Also, this is kind of my first time writing an x reader type story, or one specifically in a romantic sense, at least. So, sorry if this comes across a bit awkwardly 😅)

(Trigger Warnings: alcohol, eating/drinking, unwanted advances/creepy behavior, body horror, slight physical violence, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

___

You can be described as someone who’s skilled in rolling with the punches.

Now, rolling with the punches doesn’t always mean being able to understand things that really aren’t meant to be understood, but it seems you’ve got a certain knack. 

If you didn’t, then how else would you have found yourself in a nice relationship with a banshee-esque spirit?

Yeah, your and Mare’s first meeting had been a little awkward, considering you’d been sabotaging a cult that was trying to hold blood rituals in his adopted brother’s name, but you two still became fast friends afterwards. (‘Matter of fact, the adopted brother in question is a pretty chill guy, too. Shockingly chill for an eldritch abomination in disguise, at least.) 

Really, dating Mare has helped open up more of reality to you. Pretty much every aspect of the human world has a counterpart for no-so-human entities. (Yes, you sort of already knew about that, but thanks to Mare, you’ve been able to actually explore it for yourself.)

For example: the setting of your latest date. 

Holy Water Distilling Co. was one of many establishments owned and controlled in Phantom’s domain. 

By day, it was a tidy bar offering a pool table in one corner and a stage in the other. 

By night, it was. . .well, the same thing. The only parts of it to change were the clientele, as well as certain items on the menu. 

One particular evening, Mare just so happened to be up on the aforementioned stage, alongside a few of his musician-buddies. You, meanwhile, were seated at the counter, watching and listening as he performed.

(Not that you minded this arrangement. Mare’s affinity for music was what you initially bonded with him over, after all. You’d tagged along on his gigs before, and he’d never failed to make it a good time.)

Patiently waiting for him to wrap up his band’s last song so you two could enjoy the rest of the night together. . . 

“Y’know, it’s always easy to find some nice toys in this place,” an unfamiliar voice whispers from just a few seats away. “But I never thought I’d see a worthwhile human around here.” 

. . .and trying your absolute damnedest to ignore the stranger who just couldn’t seem to take a hint.

Similarly to Mare and Phantom, the stranger in question could almost pass for a human. Just not at the moment, since he’d obviously taken off whatever disguising veil he used (those were pretty popular among this crowd for many reasons). 

His eyes bulged from their sockets, lacking both pupils and irises. Just two orbs a little larger than the average tennis ball, coming in a shade of dark pink that looked more toxic than fluorescent, ever-so-slightly rolling around in his head as he stared at you. The grin he aimed in your direction would’ve been creepy even without his particular mouthful of oily-looking needle-teeth. 

You ground your jaw, feeling one of your hands curl into a fist on the bar counter. 

The bug-eyed stranger seemed to catch onto that body language. Though you didn’t look at him, your peripheral vision still allowed you to see how his smile fell. 

“What? I don’t get any gratitude for the compliment?” Mr. Bug-Eyes asked, his voice changing from smug to indignant in a heartbeat. 

“If you really think that being called a toy is a compliment,” you finally murmur in a clipped tone, “then you’re in for a rude awakening.”

“Oh, c’mon. I know what girls like,” Mr. Bug-Eyes retorted. “I’ll just never understand why you’re all so repressed.”

“I think you’re mistaking repression for self-respect,” you observed. 

You kept your focus on the stage, on Mare and his bandmates. You knew they were on their last song for the night’s performance. The music was winding down, but it was still awesome as ever. He’d asked for your help with lyrics and fine-tuning a good few times in the past, and that had been flattering enough.

But the fact that he was having such a good time singing the stuff that you helped him decide on. . .well, you weren’t sure when you’d stop riding that high, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

“Fine, fine. I get it: you don’t want things to move so fast,” Mr. Bug-Eyes piped up again, nudging his bar stool a few inches closer to you. He didn’t seem to notice how you automatically nudged your own chair a few inches further away. “Can’t I just get your number, honey? It’s clear you need someone to talk to.”

“I’ve already got that covered,” you replied. “That’s how having friends works.” 

“That’s big talk for someone who’s here all alone,” Mr. Bug-Eyes sneered. 

You feel your knuckles turn white. “I’m not alone.”

“Well, if that’s the case, your company isn’t paying enough attention to you.”

“That’s none of your damn business,” you hiss, trying to keep your voice down. Yeah, you weren’t shy about potentially clocking this guy in the chin if he tried anything, but you still didn’t want to cause a scene. Not when Mare was wrapping up his gig, so close to finally coming offstage and continuing his date with you. “I already told you: I’m. Not. Interested. If you were half the guy you think you are, you would’ve left me alone after the first time.”

Mr. Bug-Eyes gave a melodramatic sigh, and a sickeningly sweet smell permeated the air around you. It almost instantly caused the first stage of a migraine to flare along the bridge of your nose. You shook your head, blinking as your eyes grew watery way faster than necessary.

A chill raced down your spine as you registered the weight of a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

You jerked back, slapping it away. “Get away from me!”

The quick motion, combined with the smell, caused you to lose your balance. However, instead of collapsing onto the floor, you felt yourself being caught. Despite your now hazy vision, it took no time at all for you to recognize the colorful tattoos adorning your rescuer’s arms. 

Relief sliced through the awful type of adrenaline that was thrumming through your head. 

From there, things moved pretty fast. 

The environment around you was a blur as clouds of dark violet smoke poured from Mare’s eyes, from his mouth, through his skin itself.  

Mare guided one of your arms to rest along his shoulder, helping you to keep up with his pace. 

Cool nighttime air rushed past the two of you; you almost didn’t notice the deep whooshing sound of a heavy glass door being swung open. 

And before you knew it, you were suddenly sitting down again. The weight of Mare’s arm was still around your waist.

“Deep breaths. Take deep breaths,” Mare coached. There was a slight echo in his voice; his pitch seemed a bit all over the place. That always seemed to happen whenever he had too much energy, good or bad. 

You nodded, following those instructions. You raised a hand to knead at your temple. Then, after a moment of scrubbing at your eyes, you realized that you were now in a completely different part of the downtown area. If memory served, you were now a far distance away from Holy Water Distilling Co.

“Are you okay?” Mare asked, keeping a firm yet gentle hold on your hand. 

You finally looked over at him. His eyes were pitch-black, the purple tear tracks on his face now branching out like veins or tree roots. His skin had turned a deathly shade of gray; if you looked closely enough, you could almost see the shapes of his teeth and skull through the barrier. 

Despite his obvious anger, concern and fear were still present in his features. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you eventually reassured him. Your head still felt a little funny, but now that you were away from the scent, your senses were much clearer. You didn’t hesitate to hug him, resting your head on his shoulder. He returned the gesture tenfold, sighing. 

The minutes dragged along, but you didn’t mind. 

“Whoever that idiot was, I think I’m gonna have to kill him,” Mare murmured after you pulled away. The edge in his voice had died down a bit, and his features were slowly but surely turning less ghoulish, but his eyes remained dark. 

“I won’t stop you,” you hummed, having long-since grown accustomed to his more monstrous side, “but could that wait a bit? Just until tomorrow?” 

Mare squinted at you, understandably incredulous. 

You shrugged. “I mean, you seemed really excited about the movie. The screening’s supposed to start in about. . .” You glanced down to check the clock on your phone, “. . .twenty minutes from now, I think.”

Mare’s eyes widened as a surprised snicker escaped his lips. “Priorities, priorities.”

You tilted your head as you rose from the sidewalk bench. “Consider it your reward for rescuing the damsel in distress.”

“Well, when you put it like that. . .” Mare was quick to follow, locking arms with you as you began strolling together.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

https://www.tumblr.com/jamdoughnutmagician/730882062233518080

I hope this is ok and I’m not sure how to just like share it to your wall kind of thing tumbler is still kind of new to me. But the picture made me think of Curtis and Honey immediately and I hope it’s ok I shared it with you. Love there story and the playful Drabble you’ve done. I connected to that so much. My life if chaos at the moment and my bf has been a trouper and so supportive. It’s such a fine line between laughing at the bad stuff or crying and he’s held me when I cried and made sure I’m laughing too. Even if he’s a cheater and tickles..

Sorry that was a rant. Either way love Curtis and Honey and thought I would share. Thank you for the moments of peace when I’m reading your stories!

Hey babes,

its a bit of a process to learn, it doesn't really let you post on walls like FB does, but you can tag someone in a post you want them to see. Or this, this is perfectly fine with me if you wanted to stay anonymous.

Thank you so much for sharing, I can see Curtis pulling this off easily. He would make it so spontaneous too that Honey is in shock for a moment before she is shouting "YES!"

Im so happy that they have been able to be a source of comfort for you during this time, hopefully things start to get calmer and more settled for you babes. Your boyfriend sounds absolutely wonderful though, an absolute sweetheart. That support, knowing when you need some light laughter or just when to cry... oof I love that for you. It's that support we all deserve. I can even forgive him that he cheats by tickling you into giggles.

You are welcome and thank you for reading them! Honestly, they have gotten this far because of you guys letting me know what they make you think and feel. I hope this little thought helps. 💛🐝

And Chill?

Curtis x Honey Drabble

Your nose was stuck in a book, but not one of those fun ones you would become so invested in that Curtis often brought you tea and snacks after a few hours because you had forgotten.

This book was the newest teacher's handguide and it was reading as stiff as a stereo instruction manual. Already you had doodled along all the edges of the pages with random little pictures trying to keep yourself awake.

And the house was quiet, Curtis having left to help Grey and Edgar with a weekend project. So not even he could help distract you this time with it. So when you started humming along with the Halloween theme song, it clicked that the noise was coming from outside of the picture window. "What the hell?" You flung the book aside and got up from the couch to go peer outside.

Moving aside one of the gauzy curtains, you saw Curtis standing in the front yard, his black trench coat tails flipping in the bit of wind bustling the leaves around the yard among the Halloween decorations, above his head he was holding a cardboard sign reading "Horror Movies and Chill?" with a sketch of what looked like Micheal Myers peering around a bush. The music came from what looked like a dusty old tape player at his feet.

You waved quickly before bolting for the door and dancing out onto the porch. "Yes! Big giant YES!" You giggled as he let his arms drop the sign to tuck under his arm and reached to grab his boom box that was still doing the ominous theme song. "I can make us some snacks and pop some beers." You excitedly said while going down the stairs to meet him.

"No need Pretty Girl, already ordered us some takeout. You my Love just gotta get into comfier clothes than those. Although..." He leaned back a bit, smirking as his eyes fell down your teacher's outfit. "Keep on those stockings?"

"I will surprise you... Horror movies and just chill huh?" You tilted up to catch his mouth, sharing a kiss that you both grinned into.

"Cuddles too, all the cuddles Honey. Promise."

"Perfect, just what I was hoping for today, Curtis." You reached for the boom box's volume, turning it up when it switched to the Ghostbusters song, dancing away back up the stairs with a sway of your body, glancing at Curtis over your shoulder.

Curtis was right behind you, crowding you playfully through the door with a press of his body and the graze of his beard against your neck, making you tingle. Tonight was already so much better.

[wellwhatisnttaken]

Through Miles of Clouded Hell

Part 4

——————————

It was Eris who saw them off. Lucien and Jurian had agreed that quietly departing before dawn would be the best option to avoid fanfare and to get an early start on the journey. The King and his Captain were just tightening the bridles on their mares, and making final checks, when his brother came around the corner. There was Eris, fiery red hair framed by the hint of dawn on the horizon. Despite the cold chill to the air, and the blanket on his lap, sweat beaded on his brow as he kept wheeling forward in his rickety wheelchair. Lucien rushed to him.

“Eris what in the mothers name are you doing? You pushed yourself all the way out here? You could’ve fallen or caught a sickness, here” Lucien pulled a hanker chief from his sleeve and dabbed at his brothers flushed face.

Eris clutched his wrist to stop him.

“What sort of interim king would I be if i didnt see my favorite subjects off?”

Eris was joking, as always, but Lucien could see the toll of his brothers journey from the castle on his face and hands which were both now red, raw and slick from exertion. Lucien took a knee in front of his brothers chair.

“Eris you didn’t have to come. I know how hard simple trips are, you didn’t have to come all the way out to the stables before the mother Is awake to see us off” Lucien met his brothers eyes. Out of all seven brothers, only Eris and Lucien had the same colored eyes.

“I needed to tell you. As rulers of this land we are connected to it” Eris explained, just as he had when Lucien was a boy,

“And the curse on this land has killed our father, not a terrible loss to be sure, but it has also killed our mother”

“Shes not dead quite yet”

“and all of our brothers. I have only held on this long because i am a stubborn bastard who refuses to die. And you, little brother,” Eris put a chapped hand on Lucien’s cheek,

“You are the last one left. So go. Find this goddess, and restore the life to your kingdom. Not for me. Your old crone of a brother has little fight left in him. But for you, for your future children. Don’t let this darkness extinguish your light. You are the brightest of us.” Eris would deny it to hood grave, but Lucien swore he saw tears bubbling up at the corners of his brothers eyes. However, he was not so reserved, and leaned into Eris’s torso, as his brother wrapped his arms around him for what might be the final time. After a long moment, a cough came from the corner of the stables. Jurian was sat awkwardly on his horse looking entirely ready to leave.

“Yes Yes Jurian, im coming, by the mother!” Lucien stood and went to mount his horse.

He gave one last look to his brother.

“Will you get back ok?”

“Oh don’t worry about me little fox, ive been traipsing around these grounds since before you were born.”

The last thing he saw was Eris’s smug smirk as the king and his captain turned and began their journey.

————————

I realize that i didnt explain why eris was on crutches in the last part, so here’s a little interlude to explain that. Next part will dive straight into their journey. They’ll encounter some familiar faces, unexpected challenges and perhaps a few hostile bats.

And we’ll catch up with the resident life bringer!

Let me know If you have any constructive criticism! Also I’m sorry I’m so bad about tagging everyone 🥲

@krem-has-a-mess @iftheshoef1tz @separatist-apologist @ramim @vulpes-fennec @sanfangirl @asnowfern @yourethehero

I made and pinned a master post of all the parts so far so check that out if you need to catch up!

[autogynocrat]

going on anon instead of commenting because im closeted but abt the they/them degendering post. ur very correct but you also imply that trans men dont share this experience. i am a trans man and have also experienced they them degendering. im not trying to be rude, correct you, or disuade the conversation from acknowledging trans women. im also not denying it if you are trying to say that this is a WORSE issue for trans women - because it could be, i wouldn't know. i just think it does a disservice to the conversation to act like degendering is a phenomenon specific only to women. ignore this if that was just a vent post and you wherent actually trying to start a discussion, im sorry for bothering you if so. to reiterate this isn't meant to be a "making this about me" thing, it's just that ur post says directly that only trans women experience this, and that isn't true in my personal experience so I just wanted to say that bc i think that separating trans men & women from eachother TOO much in these sorta discussions can be detrimental to progress because it can create a divide that pits us against each other when truthfully we are in the same boat, even if many of our experiences differ. idk if uve maybe had an experience where a trans men invalidated u for this, and that's why u said only trans women ever get it. if that's the case it's really unfortunate- people should listen to others when they share their experiences. but it likely means that person just hasnt had that happen to him or dosent perceive it as an issue (i feel like most trans ppl would be bothered by it, but everybody's different). im sorry that people aren't respecting ur pronouns, i hope that things get better for you!

yes i think i have clarified my position after reading the tags and also reddit people accusing me of thinking trans men are oppressing me(????) its not that i dont think it happens to transmascs its that in my experience when a trans woman gets a punitive they(often during a bit dramatic internet event where she's being trial by fire'd), if she or other transfems point out that people are taking away her gender as a punishment, in my experience and observations more often than not she will be told she's crazy even by a lot of people within the community. im not saying it can't happen to transmascs im saying when it happens to transfems being dogpiled or punished nobody seems to care or notice bc its "neutral". people on tumblr have been way more chill with this and seem to understand my point but on reddit and Twitter and other spaces i see this happen a lot

basically what i was trying to vent about wasn't saying "this never happens to anyone else transmascs totally always get their gender respected" but "when this happens to trans women, we seem to be the only ones who notice it is happening to us, and people will call us crazy for noticing" that's what i meant by invisible. i don't think im erasing or denying trans mascs by saying that, i dont talk about transmasc bc i don't have life experience as one, i just have experience knowing that when this specific thing happens to trans women we get told by people of every background that it didn't happen.

hopefully this clarifies it better i dont know how much better i can say it im not making universal dogmatic statements im making experiential ones ones people keep assuming bad things about me for this post and it's frustrating

[lawnmowereater]

not sure if u done anything like this but aizawa having a sibling or daughter. Like a younger sister or daughter who he teaches and do some type of angst with them. Like him not paying much attention to her or she’s caught doing something (like smoking,drugs). Something like that. Thank you

Aizawa Catching His Younger Sibling Sm-king

Authors Note: yes i can, thank you for requesting! and sorry if this is bad. (also this is not my gif)

Warnings: Sm-king

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Gn! Reader

your aizawas little sibling, and your in his class.

and recently, youve picked up sm-king

but sm-king isnt allowed in the building, so you have to do it secretly

and today is no different

your just chilling in your dorm, sitting in the window and sm-king

your thoughts are racing a million miles an hour, and this feels like the only way to calm them down

but you're hacking and coughing a lot, no matter how hard you try not to

its 1 am though, so you think that nobody is awake to hear you

except a tired hero, who just got done grading papers named aizawa

hes walking back to his dorm to go to bed

and he passes a dorm room, that smells awful, like skunk

he hears somebody coughing, pretty badly

and he knows that the person inside that dorm isnt sleeping

he opens the door slightly, to see whos inside

and he sees you, his own little sibling, sm-king on the window sill.

almost immediately, he runs up and grabs the thing that you're sm-king (i know nothing about dr-gs sorry)

your startled and by instinct, you go to swing at him

but right before you hit him, you see aizawas concerned and angry face staring right at you

"kid, what the f-ck are you doing?"

hes actually really pissed, but hes too tired to show it

you try to tell him that its just a one time thing, but aizawa can see all the used dr-gs all around the room (again in sorry i dont know anything about drugs)

"i know damn well that this isnt a one time thing, dont lie to me. why are you doing this?"

your shocked. you thought that aizawa would yell and scream at you for sm-king, but hes just worried

eventually, you just let everything out

you vent about everything that's been bothering you, how you got the dr-gs, how you used them, etc

and aizawa just listens, without a single judgmental look or saying

and when your finished, aizawas eyes look glassy with tears.

but hes holding them back for you

"thats awful, im sorry that i wasnt here for you. but, you know that dr-gs are the best way to deal with this, right?"

you nod your head slowly

"but, its too late now. and im going to help you. im here for you, and im not leaving"

you look at him confused and you ask him how

"im gonna help you quit, and you are not in this alone.. i know that i havent been the best older brother, and im sorry. but i will not allow you to struggle with this alone for any longer"

he rubs your head and tries to give you an empathic smile, but hes not great at it

aizawa takes out his phone and together, you research good ways to quit.