#if you like slice of life this is very much that kind of vibe

[faetreides]

summary: feyd rautha x emperor’s afab oldest child!reader

cw: feet stuff, piss kink, implied eventual knifeplay/blood play, cannabalism, arranged marriage, feyd being so weird but reader lowkey loves it, facesitting but the kind where feyd would beg you to break his neck, spanking/mild painplay, very likely ooc feyd since i haven’t seen part 2 yet, use of “princes” and “wife”, wedding hunt and black cum hcs taken from @valeskafics , reader doesn’t really know what’s going on but they’re vibing

wc: 1.4k

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

Collapsing in relief has never been more appealing. You finally have a moment of respite after vigorous and exhausting wedding festivities, and you need to collect yourself. This marriage to the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was only brought to your attention a week before it would take place.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really mind the man himself. It was just so sudden, is all. During any visits with his family, you had to be mindful of how you reacted to his cocky displays of ruthlessness and violence. Your father would have your head if he saw how tight you squeezed your thighs together or how much you panicked at the thought of leaving a puddle on your throne. Feyd always marked his departure with a cliche kiss to the back of your hand and a hissed promise that you couldn’t make out.

He would protect you at the very least if he didn’t love you. You’re not even sure that you love him, but this shameful crush could grow into something untamable if you lose your footing. Something… unbecoming of a member of the royal family. You wonder if it already has.

The wedding was as grand as could be, glittering decorations and finery followed by archaic rituals to please your in-laws. The Wedding Hunt in particular sent your heartbeat into overdrive, but the satisfaction on your betrothed’s face when he caught his “prize” was intoxicating. Feyd Rautha kisses like he kills, you were quick to discover, fiercely and uncaring of any blood that might be shed.

You’re brought out of your reminiscing by your now husband closing the door to your room behind him. You only have another day with your family before you’re to leave for Giedi Prime. There has hardly been time to get to know the man you will lie beside for the rest of your life, until now.

“Wife.” He bluntly greets you, awkwardly nodding his head in an effort to maintain his “tough” image. You won’t tease him about the barest hint of blush on his cheekbones, but you treasure it nonetheless.

You humor him, “Husband.” Your nod mirrors his and you take a seat at the long table in the middle of the room after Feyd pulls a chair out for you.

This was the next part of the ritual, where the newly married couple must eat a meal that one partner made for the other. It sounds simple enough that you don’t think anything of it.

Feyd makes a gesture and your food is placed before you by one of your family’s servants. They look a bit queasy and green in the face but they’re gone before you can ask if they’re alright.

“I hope you like it, princess.” Feyd says with a barely there smirk, pointing to the… pie in front of you. “I cut down many people for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at that but bring your knife to take a slice of the pie anyway. Upon lifting the piece onto your plate, you notice eyeballs, flesh, tongues, and some sort of black liquid running throughout the filling. You freeze in place, not even meeting your husband’s eyes. One blue eye seems to twitch and the black substance makes a sick sound as you move it around with your fork.

“The other men who your father considered, my concubines….. I actually can’t tell you which of them are in that slice, but they are all there.” He whispers in your ear, having gotten up from his position opposite you to feed you himself.

You respect the ritual despite your urge to throw up, so you swallow what he gives you. He grins, swiping a thumb down to your throat to feel the food travel. He squeezes your cheeks when you’re done, and you open your mouth to show him that you ate it all.

“That’s my princess.” He condescendingly croons, bending down to run his tongue all over your face before standing up and pushing you to lie flat on the cold table. “But I'm afraid that it’s time for me to have my meal.”

Your elaborate wedding gown is slashed to shreds, the cool tip of his blade moving down your flesh until it reaches your lace covered mound. He taps the hilt of his weapon on your hood and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor.

You didn’t expect the reveal of your wedding night attire to be under such unorthodox circumstances, but can you say you expected any of this?

“A worthy bride with a body to match, thank you for this gift, your highness”. He says in a half joking manner, grinning with too many teeth as he runs his hands along the delicate material. He toys with the idea of cutting this little number to pieces too, but your holes are left conveniently exposed. Maybe he’s fallen too in love with it, he’s been in love with you since you met years ago anyway.

The lingerie is a custom designed piece littered with straps and sheer fabric that leave nothing to the imagination. Your tits are accentuated by a seashell-like pattern bra and there’s even a little black bow above your pussy. The frilly strips of material wrapped around your thighs do nothing to keep your curves contained and the tiny tulle skirt frames your ass beautifully.

Your husband drinks in the sight of you before pulling your ankles to rest on his shoulders. You watch in arousal and shock as he broadly licks the sole of your right foot. He groans unabashedly, nuzzling at your heel and then dipping his tongue in the spaces between your toes. You wiggle at the ticklish feeling but you don’t kick him away.

He really gets into it when he starts sucking your toes, bobbing his head and making sure you’re watching as curls his tongue around each one. His eyes roll back in pleasure once he reaches the last toe on your other foot, and drool trickles down your leg when he’s done getting acquainted with the taste of it. He presses a kiss to the top of each toe but then the weird softness is ruined by the bite he adorns your ankle with.

Feyd’s mouth makes a slick popping sound as he pulls away from your feet. You’re at a loss for words when he proceeds to lie down on the table beside you. He gropes your breast quickly and leans over to give you a surprisingly chaste peck. The look on his face is a smug one but his eyes say something unknown to you, soft and obsessive all at once. It’s as if he knows something you don’t.

“Now sit on my face, claim your new throne, princess.”

You don’t know how long he keeps you hostage there, your cunt soaking him as he devours you to the bone. He doesn’t let you become too relaxed, nipping your clit as he sees fit and clawing the skin of your ass. Eventually your gut aches and though at first you think you’re about to cum already, the second heartbeat in your clit feels different. You come to a horrifying realization that you need to relieve yourself.

“H-husband, what the fuck- I… I need to pee.” You’d rather be dead than doing what you are and saying what you are, but nature calls.

“Yes, that’s it.” He growls and digs his nails into your ass, jigging the globes in his hands before sharply slapping them. “Piss all over my face, get me wet with it like a good wife.”

The shriek you let out when you do just that is abhorrent. Your legs shake as you spray hot pee on your husband’s skin, the gold mixing with the white of your simultaneous orgasm as it drips down his body. You try to move off of Feyd but he tightens his grip on your ass and yanks you back down. The sensation of a hungry mouth desperately sucking the fluids from you drives you wild.

“You have…… fuck- y-you have to stop, hah- i’m going to break.” You sob.

He chuckles into your piss covered pussy and then pulls away to speak, “Then break, a wife of House Harkonnen doesn’t need to be put together.”

You think you hear him say something about using his blade on your body later, but that might just be your own perverted idea.

[berryhobii]

Late For Work (jjk x reader)

Pairing: Husband!Jeon Jungkook x black!female!reader

Word Count: 2,223

Warnings: established relationship(they’re married!), fluff, domestic vibes, Jungkook’s a house husband, tattooed!Jungkook, smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), morning sex, somnophilia I guess? He wakes reader up with head. Kitchen sex, oral(m and f receiving), deepthroating, throat fucking, lots of spit, reader’s a whiny and needy sl*t, Jungkook is obsessed with reader(in a sweet way), begging, overstimulation, interrupting phone cliche

A/N: Hi! I’m back! I know I said this would be a Gamer!Jungkook but I kind of went off script a little, heh. There will definitely be a part 2 of this though and there will be actual Gamer JK in that. I didn’t really describe the reader in this so imagine them as you like. Criticism is always welcomed and I hope you enjoy!

~

When you woke up, it was to him between your legs, slurping up all of your wetness and flicking his tongue against your swollen clit. He managed to wrench 3 orgasms out of you before your alarm rang, that stupid job calling for your attention. Thank goodness you were close to going on vacation. After that, you could spend some much needed quality time with your husband.

He helped you to the bathroom, your legs feeling weak from your orgasms that were still vibrating through your body. Once you showered, did your skincare, and refreshed your hair, you found him in the kitchen, back turned to you as he sliced something on a cutting board.

Bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, your hungry eyes greedily took in the expanse of his bare, muscled back. Each movement caused his muscles to flex, the dark and brightly colored tattoos that stretched across his back shifting. He had recently finished the healing process for his brand new back tattoos—a large dragon spread across his shoulder blades, multiple flowers of different colors wrapped around his ribs, and your favorites were the abundance of clouds with butterflies resting on them. He had lots of little others like that cute smiley face on the back of his neck and that Minnie mouse bow on the back of his right arm he got on a dare after losing to Taehyung. You remember when he came home with it. You had laughed for close to 10 minutes, much to Jungkook’s chargin, his pout never leaving until he got annoyed and bent you over the couch. You still giggled but his cock taught you manners.

He heard you place your purse down on the kitchen island, turning his head to look at you.

“Breakfast is almost ready.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning in to inhale his shampoo. Your cheek rubbed against his soft skin, humming when he relaxed in your embrace.

“Morning head and breakfast? Are you married?”

He chuckled, reaching for another strawberry to slice. “I am. Very happily for 3 years. They’re the love of my life.”

“Sounds like a very lucky person.”

While you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was smiling extra big.

“Eh. They hog all the blankets and can’t sleep unless it’s freezing cold but I guess they’re lucky to have me.”

You rolled your eyes, biting his shoulder blade. He was such a dork.

“They bite me a lot too. I wonder if I’m tasty.”

Your hands began to wander, scratching down his chest and abs until you reached the band of his low sweats. You dipped into the article of clothing, a noise of surprise vibrating your throat when you found he wasn’t wearing underwear.

Your hand grabbed at his half hard cock, beginning to pump him slowly. He inhaled a sharp breath, dropping the knife he held in the sink. Safety first and all that.

His hands gripped at the counter, head dipping low as you stroked him to hardness. When his sweats began to get uncomfortable, he moaned.

“Baby….”

You hummed, pulling away from him to let him turn around. Now that he was facing you, you could appreciate him fully—from his broad chest to his smooth expanse of his defined stomach. Your eyes trailed up to meet his, dark irises staring at you. His gaze made you feel warm all over, those earlier orgasms feeling far away. You wanted more.

Dropping to your knees before him, you grabbed at his sweats before pulling them down. His cock sprang up, the tip leaking precum. You licked your lips, gaze greedy and your throat itching to have him nestled in it.

You gripped him once again, feeling him throb in your hold. Locking eyes with him, you leaned forward to lick at his tip.

“You’re delicious.”

Your stare never broke as you licked him from base to tip. Eye contact was the quickest way to get him to cum. You too. It just made your sex feel more intimate and connected. It also fueled his ego a little to watch your sultry eyes stare up at him as he was down your throat.

After you had slicked him up enough, your hand pumped at him as your mouth sucked at his balls—his most sensitive spot. He tossed his head back, leaning against the counter, a loud moan coming from him.

Gathering saliva in your mouth, you bubbled spit all over his balls. He loved it wet and messy, something you learned after your first few times together. He was always a gentleman during your first times but that quickly changed when you started getting more and more comfortable with him. Your pussy would get so wet and sticky that he couldn’t hold back.

Coming back to his cock, you kissed along his shaft, trailing spit with you, cheeks and chin wet. You took him into your mouth, sucking him halfway in, your hand pumping what you hadn’t gotten to…..yet.

Your tongue licked all around him, cheeks hollowing as you sucked him. His hand grabbed at your hand, hips bucking into your throat. You removed your hand from his cock, instead gripping his thighs, giving him the okay to go hard.

Using his other hand to grab the back of your neck, he began moving his hips in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat, allowing him to slip in and out with ease.

“You like that cock in your throat, baby?” His raspy voice talked down at you. You moaned around his cock because fuck yes you did. You could feel your panties sticking to you, the fabric probably ruined beyond rescue.

He pushed your head all the way down, holding you there, nose buried in the hair at the base of his cock. Tears sprang in your eyes, throat constricting around him. Your nails dug into his thighs, leaving red marks in your wake.

When you began to sputter and gag on him, he let you go. You inhaled a deep breath, coughing and trying to pull air back into your lungs. Your bleary eyes looked back up at him, your hand coming to pump at his slick cock again. Sweat dripped down his chest and stuck his hair to his forehead. He looked good enough to eat.

“Give me more, baby.” Tongue hanging out of your mouth, you were ready to take everything he gave you.

Fuck.

A few more pumps of your hand and harsh suck to his tip and he was cumming in your mouth, filling your cheeks. He shivered as his orgasm racked him, mouth dropping open in a silent moan.

You didn’t immediately swallow, letting him regain his breath. You patiently sat back on your heels, bright eyes staring up at him.

His hand reached out to grab your chin, tilting your head up. “Open.”

You obliged, dropping your jaw to show him his release in your mouth. He felt his cock jump at the sight. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Swallow.”

And you did, opening your mouth again to show him you had obeyed.

He helped you up from the ground, grabbing under your thighs to lift you and place you on the kitchen island. His lips hungrily moved against yours, his hands pushing your pencil skirt up until he could access your thong. His warm hands grabbed both sides of the thin string, giving it one harsh pull and it snapped. He worked at the buttons of your blouse next, careful not to pop any of them in his haste but truthfully, he could care less. Once it was open, he pulled down the cups of your bra, letting your breasts spill out.

You moaned as his hands pinched at your nipples, little sparks going up your back. He pulled away from your mouth, a whine coming from you but it was quickly covered when his mouth sucked in your left nipple. Your hands buried in his hair, humming as he worked both of your nipples to stiff peaks. He bit at the skin of your breasts, further darkening the hickies he placed there just last night. Once he was satisfied with his work, he pulled away to kiss you again.

“Fuck me, baby. Please. I can’t wait anymore.” You were starting to grow more and more desperate. Those orgasms from earlier just weren’t enough. You needed his cock right now.

He smirked at your whiny tone. His cock was hard again, throbbing to be nestled in your warm and tight walls but he had more pressing matters to tend to.

Pecking your lips once more, he bent down slightly until he was level with your pussy. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart to get more access to your dripping heat. You barely had time to balance yourself on your hands before he was diving in, eating you out like a man starved. His tongue licked and sucked at your clit, abusing the swollen bud until your legs were shaking.

His eyes looked at you from between your legs and goodness were you a sight to see. The way your mouth dropped open, your breasts all marked up, and your watery eyes threatening to spill. He could eat you out for hours, not even stopping when you were crying and begging for him to let you rest.

You didn’t even realize how desperate and close you were until that band was snapping and you were cumming all over his face. One of your hands buried in hair, pulling him closer as your head fell back. Your toes dug into his shoulders, almost pushing him away but he remained firm, delivering licks to your clit.

Once you were shaking in overstimulation, he pulled away, licking his lips of your sweet juices.

He stood back to his full height, pulling you closer until your hips hung off the edge of the counter. You felt his cock rub against your sensitive pussy, flinching away a little at the almost painful feeling. But you were so desperate for him that you didn’t care. You just wanted his cock inside you. Now.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him to you again. Tears fell down your cheeks, bottom lip wobbling. “P-please….no more teasing…”

He could hold himself back anymore either. He pecked your temple, hands digging into the nest of your thighs. “Okay, princess.”

The head of his cock rubbed against your slick folds, bumping your clit a few times making you shiver.

Just as he was about to push in, the loud blaring of your phone broke you apart. Realization struck you, your eyes widening.

“Oh shit! My meeting! I’m late!” You hastily reached for your purse, digging in it until you found your phone. You quickly answered it, apologies falling from your lips.

After you hung up, Jungkook helped you from the island, your legs buckling but he held you up.

You sighed, leaning against his sweaty chest. “Ugh, darn you and your magnetic dick. Why did you distract me?”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You stuck your hand down my pants. You started this.”

You growled, biting his pec lightly. “You woke me up. You started this.”

He harshly gripped both of your ass cheeks in his hands. “Do you want me to finish it?” His suggestive tone matched his eyes, his stare sending shocks straight to your pussy. Was that meeting really important? You could just quit your job and live your days with Jungkook’s cock down your throat. You’d clock in faithfully every day.

You whined, pushing him away. “I’m already late. Stop tempting me.”

He gave you that cheeky smile again but let you go, making sure to deliver a slap to your ass as you walked away.

Once you had brushed your teeth again and fixed your makeup and hair, you rushed to the door. Jungkook was already waiting for you with a bagel and your lunch bag. Your heart warmed at the sight of him. He took such good care of you. An idea of a surprise date swirled in your head.

You smiled when your eyes met.

“Here. I packed your lunch and since breakfast got cold, I made you a bagel. Eat the whole thing.”

You walked into his arms, hugging him tightly, his warmth sinking into your skin. “I love you.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you more.”

After embracing for a moment longer, you reluctantly pulled away, not wanting to leave him but you knew you had to work.

He kissed away your pout. “I’ll be here when you come back. I promise.”

You sighed but nodded, expecting a final kiss before you finally walked out of the door but instead, his hand grabbed your throat to pull you closer. You gasped at the sudden movement, eyes widening as they locked with his. His smile had dropped, only a mischievous smirk left in its wake.

“And when you come back, I’ll fuck you on every surface in this apartment.”

Your thighs rubbed against each other, excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to say something but you were silenced when he shoved the bagel in your mouth

“Have a good day at work.”

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die [teaser]

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line »» 

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?

The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.

Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: est. 30k | [teaser]: ~1k

RELEASE DATE: est. May 19th, 2024 - may change

‼️PLEASE SEND AN ASK OR REPLY TO THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST (ageless blogs WILL NOT BE ADDED)‼️

masterlist

WARNINGS [!is subject to change upon publishing of the full fic!]: slowburn, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, smut tags to be added in the full fic

[AN]: hai i am back with another monstrosity 😃 biggest thank you to @highvern for brainstorming with me and beta-ing for me, this fic would not exist without her!!!!! im super excited for this to come out, its my best work yet and i hope you all like it too!!!!

teaser under the cut!

“Did your stupid father drop you on your head as a baby?” 

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull. 

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant. 

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?” 

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.” 

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?” 

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully; “What?” 

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone else.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest. 

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit. 

Is he about to cut my hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt. 

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long. 

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level. 

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?” 

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.” 

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard. 

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope. 

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.” 

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion. 

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.” 

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed. 

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour. 

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

[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.

[aroaessidhe]

Queerplatonic book recs, that actually have QPRs, inspired by me seeing someone listing qpr books that were literally just queer people being friends 🤦‍♀️

These all have the main characters in queerplatonic relationships,  explicitly and/or unambiguously in most cases.

The Thread That Binds

solarpunk-fantasy about queer bookbinding witches, 2/3 MCs are an aroace & an ace in a QPR

Baker Thief

superhero fantasy with a bigender aromantic superhero / demisexual woman QPR 

Not Even Bones

YA supernatural trilogy where the main characters initially seem to be developing a romantic relationship, but eventually realise neither actually feel that way, and settle into more or less a QPR (without labels, but it’s pretty clear)

Two Dark Moons

YA fantasy where an arospec girl & ace lizard kid accidentally get fantasy-married & develop a friendship/qpr

The Wolf Among The Wild Hunt

dark fantasy novella with an aroace wolfman & nonbinary knight qpr

Our Bloody Pearl

NA fantasy with a siren & ace pirate, originally marketed as a romance, but it is pretty much a qpr and that’s what the author intended!

The Reckless Kind

historical YA with an aspec girl becoming a family with her best friend and his boyfriend

Fire Becomes Her

YA, 1920s inspired fantasy world, demiro girl breaks free of her relationship and instead ends up in a QPR with a nonbinary transmasc ace.

If It Makes You Happy

YA contemporary about a girl navigating her queerplatonic relationship with her best friend, and a possible new romantic relationship.

Royal Rescue

high fantasy with an amatonormative royal marriage system, where the aroace MC has had enough, rescues himself, and starts to dismantle the system, finding a QPR on the way

The Heretic’s Guide To Homecoming (duology)

slow introspective high fantasy following two characters on a journey, doesn’t explicitly have them define their relationship in a QPR-like way, but undeniably focuses on complex platonic relationships and narratives

Mindtouch

this is one that’s been on my tbr forever - a sort of cozy/slice of life sci-fi that centres a platonic relationship between two aliens, which is quite reminiscent of a QPR. apparently there’s like 5 books now, I’ve only read the first so far!

Archivist Wasp / Firebreak

honorable mention because it’s not explicitly a qpr - but all of the author’s works focus on platonic m/f relationships in a very aspec way, and have absolutely no romance anywhere. one of the central relationships is very much platonic soulmates/ qpr vibes (postapoc ghosty sci-fi/fantasy YA & dystopian anticapitalism)

[yuurivoice]

Saw a goofball post about ASMR Roleplay, romantic plots, narratives, etc. and so on.

Let me share some of my philosophy with you as someone in this game for 7 years, 150k subs on YouTube, and who turned this into a lucrative business for himself. I say all that not to flex, but to assure you that maybe I know a little bit about what I'm talking about.

Audio Roleplays, ASMR Roleplay, etc and so forth is not some sort of rigid, strict thing. If you believe that content in this niche has to adhere to strict rules, structure, and expectations, you've already entered into this with strange expectations because there is such a vast array of ways you can go about presenting this content.

Some of it is slice of life moments in time with an assumed relationships between character and listener. Before narrative audios started to pick up steam, or rather, a handful of folks (myself included) developed followings centered on original characters and stories, the vast majority of creators in this space were just doing snippets of experiences. And, in case you were unaware, that approach is wildly successful. Boyfriend Experiences, audio smut, etc. has a much wider appeal at this time because a listener can drop right in and enjoy it.

If you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that every audio has to adhere to strict narrative rules, be defined by conflict, or things happening beyond whatever the vibe calls for, you're willfully putting yourself and the niche in a box. Which is fine, but seeing people piss and moan about it is strange.

My approach has been to blend narrative series along with one-shots. One-shots serve as super self indulgent audios that aren't tied to the narrative and allow listeners to engage with some of their favorite characters they fell in love with in the narrative without furthering the plot.

Sometimes I play the game, explore tropes and clichés that are popular for the sake of taking a crack at it. Because it brings in new listeners who then become fans of my narrative work and creates genuine supporters of my passion projects.

And ya know? It fucking works. It works really well. I can drop a very straightforward, stripped down comfort audio with Alphonse like I did today and move listeners to tears. And then we can continue on with BitterSweet when I'm good and ready. It keeps the channel running, keeps the audience engaged, and keeps me working.

The bigger point here is that creators should be able to approach their work as they see fit, without concerns about goofballs with strange expectations and standards dictating to them what is and is not valid. You wanna know what's valid? Creating shit that you like, that the people who support you like. However you achieve that is all good in my book.

Having some goofy ass superiority complex about how people play pretend with pretty voices is strange behavior. I'm proud that my community has never flung that kind of nonsense around, and I'm speaking on it to affirm that kind of stance for the folks who rock with me.

If you're a listener who has recently stumbled into this niche, I implore you to explore, listen to others, find what you like and enjoy it because you enjoy it. There are countless people making audio content these days and there's no wrong way to do it, never has been. There's something for everyone, and if someone tries to tell you otherwise, be wary.

I'm not about negative nonsense, not about tribalism or putting down one person over another. Lift up your faves and share why you appreciate them and their style. But petulant bickering and shitting on others because of something as trivial as audio content? Nahhhh. If I catch anyone spouting nonsense like that in my name, I try and snuff it out as fast as possible because that's not how my shit is built.

If you are someone who fucks with me and my work but has had some opinions like that, I implore you to chill because none of this has ever been that serious. I want people to enjoy what they want to enjoy because for the love of fuck, life is too short to try and grandstand over this silly little niche. Or please get all the way away from me and my people.

Deuces. ✌️

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Would you mind talking more about Ghost? I dig your interpretation on him so i'm curious if you'd share your thoughts; since i know how COD in general writes these characters and we know romance isn't on the table for them, ESP for someone like Ghost (even confimred by his voice actor too!)

So all that aside, in your opinion, what would it take to win Ghost's heart (or well, Simon's)? :)

It's great to hear you like my interpretation of Ghost! I'll gladly share my thoughts on this, the supposed love life of Simon Riley is one of my favorite subjects 🧐

Thoughts on what would it take to win Simon's heart under the cut ->

To be honest I see it highly unlikely that Ghost would date. I think Samuel Roukin's opinion on this matter was spot on. Simon's traumatic background, trust issues, the need to stay anonymous and his profession as a special ops soldier is just too heavy a combo. His family's murder and multiple betrayals have pushed him on a path of extreme independence and made him evade any kind of attachment.

That being said... I'm a hopeless romantic and love to imagine scenarios just like every other little simp here 🩷💋, and I've pictured (and occasionally written) him to be drawn to someone who is principally the opposite of himself, but who also has a dash of angst in their heart and firsthand experience or at least some basic understanding of complex trauma.

A positive vibes only/sunshine type of person would not resonate well with his darkness, and a carefree joker would only annoy him. Then again, there's Soap – but the thing with John MacTavish is that he shares the same profession and in that way, is not a stranger to the Underworld. Their banter is also evidence enough that Soap is not afraid of Ghost's madness and even looks up to him – actually a perfect way to make someone like Ghost enjoy your company. This man has a terrible praise kink but he can't stand spineless bootlickers. So the adoration should happen in a "I trust you and would follow you to hell & back" kind of way.

However, due to the shit he's been through, I'd say (contrary to popular headcanon, I dunno?) that Simon would likely fall for someone outside the military world. First of all, he's very uncomfortable with the fact that his partner has to fear for his safety. But the fear of losing his partner to the dangers of this profession would be a little too much. It would only trigger a shitload of PTSD stuff. The fear of losing a loved one again would override the mutual experience and bonding through warfare, all the elements which otherwise might be pull factors in a military love interest. On the other hand, people with traumatic backgrounds tend to repeat the pattern, no matter how horrific or unsafe, simply because it's familiar. Still, I'd say someone from the base personnel would be a more alluring option for him. The shared hell, so to say, could make the foundations of this relationship quite dark. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing!

Deep down, Simon would be attracted to softness. Not innocence, per se, just something different from the realm in which he operates. This is why I think he could definitely fall for "a normie". He would appreciate dark humor and a certain kind of fearlessness, however. What ultimately would win his heart is someone who can stand, even cherish, his melancholy and cynicism and life choices and who is not on a quest to change or "fix" him.

I think Simon's ultimate wish is to find a home because he has lost it (or hasn't really had one in the first place). He's a leader and has to provide safety and support on a daily basis to the people under his command. But who offers support and safety to him? He knows how to protect people but doesn't know how to create a safe space, so he would appreciate someone who makes him feel he's finally found his way home. I think he yearns for a small measure of peace and a slice of normal life to wash away the adrenaline and blood and filth, he wants a small corner free from the demons that haunt him, even if he would reluctantly (if ever) admit that he does.

[outtoshatter]

Author spotlight of the week: @aurevell! They have heaps of fics to choose from!

Under 10k:

Returning the Favor | T | 5k tags: established relationship, same age Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski, fluff, Stiles doesn't know about werewolves Summary: Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

When Derek peers down into the dark, he finds the worst thing imaginable: his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar. "What are you doing here?" Derek hisses.

Burial Rituals | G | 4k tags: necromancer Stiles, cursed Derek, meet-cute Summary: The necromancer freezes halfway over the fence, stuttering to a halt the second Derek flashes his red eyes. It’s an awkward pose to hold: leg hiked up over the waist-high bars, hands gripping the rail for balance. The fence’s wrought-iron spears dig into his calf a bit as he settles, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh,” he says lamely, his face pale in the scant moonlight. “Shit.”

Derek guards an abandoned cemetery. Stiles is the necromancer trying to break in.

Sugar in my Coffee | G | 3k tags: no werewolves, established relationship, domestic fluff Summary: Derek’s not a morning person. Stiles would live on sugar if he could.

Lessons in Catiquette | T | 3k tags: creature Stiles, slice of life, pack bonding Summary: The pack’s resident werecat is kind of a mystery to Derek. Luckily, Stiles offers one-on-one tutoring.

It May Simply Lie in Wait | G | 5k tags: getting together, declarations of love, magical Stiles Summary: “This place is haunted as hell,” one boy says under his breath.

The house remembers itself, letting out a subtle upstairs creak to let them know what they’re in for. They enter anyway, inspecting its shamefully crumbled furnishings, running fingers over its tattered walls, crouching to peer at the ceiling tiles fallen on its floor, and the house—

The house does not chase them away.

Years after the fire, Derek and Stiles return to the Hale House. It isn’t sure how it feels about this.

Stories Over 10k:

The Only Thing Left | T | 13k tags: angst, no werewolves, creature Derek Summary: “You don’t need air,” Stiles echoes. “You swim. That doesn’t tell me much. What are you?”

Derek stares. He slowly lifts his shoulders and drops them back into the water.

Or, Stiles meets a stranger at the spring outside of town.

Where we Both Could Live | M | 16k tags: shy Derek, meet cute, friends to lovers Summary: Derek’s having a hard time falling asleep in his noisy new apartment.

His next-door neighbor, who always seems to be talking or singing, is surprisingly helpful with that problem.

The Third Sacrifice | T | 21k tags: magical Stiles, dark fairy tale elements, human sacrifice Summary: Stiles can see the writing on the wall. Everyone knows the Stilinskis are cursed, or magic, or both. He knows he’ll be picked as the third sacrifice—the one that dies for the sake of the harvest. But he doesn’t intend to let some ancient god rip his heart out, not if magic can help it.

If only Derek, his estranged best friend, would stop hounding him about his plans to escape.

A Badge for Everything | T | 11k tags: good alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, boy scout Stiles, getting together Summary: Stiles Stilinski is the only loser left in a pack full of wolves who’d do anything to leave their loser days behind.

(Everything’s the same, but Stiles is a boy scout. That’s it. That’s the story.)

The Beginner's Guide to Everyday Magic | T | 29k | 8 chapters tags: magical Stiles, Stiles is pushed out of the pack, fluff, angst, Studio Ghibli vibes Summary: When the latest threat sweeps into Beacon Hills, Derek decides that the very-much-human Stiles needs to be severed from the pack for his own safety. But when the ritual goes unexpectedly wrong, Stiles finds himself alone—and unable to reach out for help when he needs it most.

Cue a retreat to his mom’s old house, where he finds that magic is more real than he ever could have imagined.

Go check out aurevell's AO3 page, and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

[stjernehiimmel]

ever since writing the bf felix hcs, ive thought about doing them for all the members....... a banger idea imo

random bf skz headcanons.

bang chan:

he's often busy, but texts you a lot during the day and night, to make sure you're okay.

whenever he's not busy, he's cooking homemade meals for you. you always tell him how he's spoiling you by doing this, to which he smiles (totally showing off those cute dimples on purpose.)

you two would definitely wear cute matching tshirts and hoodies.

you absolutely love to ruffle his hair, especially when he's got his natural curls. he doesn't get why you like his hair so much, but he thinks it feels nice when you run your fingers through it.

lee know:

soonie, doongie and dori all love you. it kinda makes your boyfriend jealous (but don't worry, it goes both ways.)

you often go visit cat cafés together and pet cute kitties, totally making minho's beloved cats jealous when you come home and they smell the stranger cats on your clothes.

sometimes he says the most random and kind of unsettling things at random times. while others would find him weird, you respond in the exact same way, totally enabling each other’s chaotic and random vibes.

the things you two talk about make no fucking sense sometimes.

he says he likes watching movies by himself, but you've definitely seen his slight smile when you say you want to join.

changbin:

he'll gladly flex his muscles for you if you ask him to.

all jokes aside, you two often work out together. imagine you trying to do a pull-up and you find it difficult...

he'll come help by lifting you up by your waist 🤭

whenever you don't work out or go out to eat together, you watch either really shitty or good horror movies.

it's always a 50/50% chance if the movie is good or not. usually it's changbin choosing what you're gonna watch and he has a tendency to choose kind of cheesy and bad ones.

but in the chance that it's a good, scary one, he'll hold you close so you don't get scared.

hyunjin:

you can definitely expect to be a model - or at least inspiration - for his paintings. he always tells you that you're beautiful and that he wants to paint something that reminds him of you.

other times you both have chaotic energy and go terrorize the public with it. like that time hyunjin wanted to record a video of you dancing the choreography to lalalala by a fountain and then you proceeded to slip and fall into the water by accident. he has never laughed that much before in his life (after making sure you were okay, of course.)

you’re both total drama queens, but that’s what makes the two of you so good and funny together.

sometimes, however, you have to remind your boyfriend to not side eye people. mostly because you’re scared he might get airfryed… again.

han:

most of the time you two just chill and lay around, occasionally showing each other a funny tiktok you found.

and then at other times you will go buy snacks and drinks, then put on a good anime and cuddle close under a cozy blanket.

✨ just introvert things ✨

whenever you have both decided you've been inside for too long, you'll go for a long walk to get fresh air. sometimes you'll even stop by a café and get a coffee (and maybe a slice of cake you can share too!)

and then back you go to chilling 🥹

felix:

he'll definitely bake brownies and other tasty things for you.

he looks expectantly at you as you taste what he's baked for you. don't upset him 🥺

you'll often play video games together.

felix tends to be a bit of a nerd in the games you two play, but you think it's cute. especially when he's secretly built something special in minecraft for you (probably from a build he saw on youtube)

you and felix go shopping for clothes as well.

he'll wait patiently outside the changing room while you're trying on clothes. and if you're ever in doubt about something, you can ask for his opinion.

seungmin:

coffee dates. always.

he gets very excited about grabbing a coffee with you. often he'll have a small gift with him.

you two always take cute selfies together.

you can definitely expect him to be the one to take the best photos of you. he's talented!

he's super quick to notice when you're feeling sad or angry. and he'll do his best to cheer you up again.

in:

you go on marvel marathons often. even though you've probably watched all the movies over 10 times.

he likes cooking, so you two do that a lot together. although, he often ends up breaking something... he's a bit clumsy.

he just (nervously) laughs about it while you're scolding him though.

you always end up forgiving him. you can't be mad at that smiley face.

you two will also just lay around and shop for clothes online, showing each other what you're planning on buying.

[blues824]

The dorm leaders with a female inosuke inosuke s/o.

Riddle :didn't your mother teach you manners (they took his tart of his plate and ate it in front of his face while she had their own slice on her plate ) her braking all the rules because they don't do rules and can't read.

Leona : waking up to see them hanging on the ceiling looking at him.

Azul :trying to get them in a contract but finding out she can't read or write and her and thinking that he wants to fight. (the tweels having to save Azul )

Kalim : they like him and keeps stealing his food and he doesn't mind.

(the boy gives me tanjiro vibes )

them making jamil life a living hell two people with endless energy and on of them growing up in the wild is not what he signed up for.

Vil :being triggerd because they tried to eat his makeup 💀

and trying to civilize her. imagen his reaction to seeing her face for the first time and wanting to doll them up. rook having to hold her back because Vil trew her mask away (him learning why she is so attracted to her mask ) and he thought giving epel a skincare routine was bad

Idia : having a panic attack because they are trying to fight every electronic and can't deal with her loudness

Malleus:who thinks all humans from her world are like this until lilia teathes him no it's not they grew up in the wild by a mother bore Malleus keeps getting shiny acorns from her (imagine sebek trying to take the acorns away and Malleus being mad about it because it's from his child of bore )

This is going to be shorter than usual since I kind of rushed this one

Anyways, this was giving chaotic energy and I am living for it.

Riddle Rosehearts

Absolutely not. Nope. Neither his mother nor the Queen of Hearts would approve of your behavior. The sheer amount of times you’ve been beheaded… everyone has lost count. You are the coming and going headache that Riddle deals with everyday.

When you took his tart right off of his plate and ate it right in front of him, he collared you. Little did he know that you didn’t have any magical properties! You still had your swords and your skills, so you were just causing even more trouble than before.

The fact that you don’t follow any of the rules is devastating to Riddle. However, he learned about your background and finally understood why you were so rambunctious. How could a human be raised by boars?

When you help with his overblot, he becomes more lenient towards everyone, including you. You seemed to be taking this as a sign of him calling you weak, so he just collared you again and you got mad and made a mess of everything. 

Leona Kingscholar

Would you keep still and quiet for 5 goddamn minutes?! He can’t sleep when you’re around because you’re always getting into trouble. Hell, he can’t even sit down without hearing your yelling and your swords being unsheathed.

You instigate tons and tons of fights with the Savanaclaw students. You always win because of your determination and your skills as a swordswoman. Leona is a tad scared of you, mainly because your ferocity reminds him of the women from his homeland.

Another reason why he’s creeped out by you is because one time while he was asleep, you crawled onto the ceiling and watched him as he woke up. He was very close to murdering you right then and there, but it would have costed too much energy. You, however, were on the verge of crying from laughter.

After you help him with his overblot, he becomes a tad more understanding towards you and your background. However, you remained the same no matter what. Remind him to never underestimate you or your swordswoman skills.

Azul Ashengrotto

When he first heard of your skills as a combatant and a swordswoman, he obviously wanted you under a contract. However, he very quickly learned that you couldn’t read or write, and that you’re very quick to jump to conclusions.

You thought he was mocking you for being illiterate, so you quickly got your swords in each hand and your boar helmet on and challenged him. He was shocked, so he called the Tweels to escort you out of the Lounge.

You tend to be rather obnoxious and rambunctious towards everyone, but Azul is kind of glad that you can stick up for yourself whenever someone makes fun of you for anything. In fact, most of the Octavinelle dorm fears you because you could easily turn them into sushi.

After you help him with his overblot and he doesn’t do contracts anymore, he can finally see you for you and not as a way to benefit him. He’s impressed by your immense strength and your keen senses. After all, that’s how you are able to deal with all of the overblots.

Kalim Al-Asim

He literally is the Tanjiro of Twisted Wonderland. He is so kind towards you, and you couldn’t take it any other way. There was no misunderstanding that he was being genuinely nice towards everyone because that’s just in his nature.

You like to take food off of Kalim’s plate (food from other people’s plates just tastes better) and he lets you. He even offers to get you a second serving if you’re still hungry. Jamil side-eyes you so hard, but he can’t do much.

Speaking of Jamil, he doesn’t like you very much. He thinks you are a not-so-great influence on Kalim because of how obnoxious and reckless you are. You also get into lots and lots of trouble, so he doesn’t want you around.

When you help Scarabia with Jamil’s overblot, everyone becomes a tad more grateful for you. Kalim rewards you with a feast. Jamil becomes more tolerant of you after, mainly because you saved his life and you risked yours doing that. 

Vil Schoenheit

Epel, is that you? Nah but seriously why can’t you just not be you for 5 minutes?! He will put you under strict supervision, just like he does with Epel. He thinks that if you behaved, you had a lot of potential.

That was, until you tried to eat some of Vil’s makeup products. He was absolutely, positively mortified that you would attempt to do such a thing. Don’t you know that you can’t eat these?! It even says on the label… oh, you can’t read? He will gladly take it upon himself to teach you.

When you meet Neige, you seem to be drawn to his kind disposition, and that makes Vil jealous. Like, why go to that guy when he was right there? >:(  When you bluntly told him that Neige was much nicer than he could ever be, you dealt some real critical damage.

When you helped Vil with his overblot, he became a lot more lenient towards you. You told him that you understood his rivalry with Neige, but it didn’t need to go that far. I mean, you were frenemies with Tanjiro back home, so yeah.

Idia Shroud

HELL NO! HE ISN’T PAID ANYWHERE NEAR ENOUGH TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOU! EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU STEP INTO THE IGNIHYDE DORM, HE FINDS EVERYTHING BROKEN OR SHATTERED IN A MATTER OF 5 SECONDS. NOT COOL, Y/N!

You are too loud for Idia to deal with. Plus, you think everything he does is somehow him initiating a fight or a brawl. Like, mans just stepped outside to buy some candy… you don’t need to tackle him on site. 

You seem pretty chill with Ortho, though, so he’s grateful for that. Ortho is very nice, and since no one has really shown you much kindness throughout your life, you get giddy whenever Ortho comes around to tell you about his day.

When you help Idia with his overblot, his opinion of you flips completely. He becomes a bit more grateful for you since you are the reason why he is still alive. He learns more about you and your upbringing, and now he understands why you act the way that you do.

Malleus Draconia

Is this how all humans act? Or is it just you? He doesn’t see the other humans on campus act as brash and recklessly as you do… besides Ace Trappola. Lilia then explains to him that you were raised by wild boars as a child, and so you copy their mannerisms.

He’s rather curious as to why you keep bringing him acorns, and he goes straight to Lilia again. He then explains that it’s because _____. Sebek constantly tries to get rid of the acorns, but then Malleus gets upset since they are from his child of boars :(

Lilia finds your personality amusing, Silver finds it disruptive and annoying, and Sebek finds it unacceptable. You always fight with Sebek, both verbally and physically, and you always end up winning because you fight demons for a living and so you have had more training than Sebek ever had.

Malleus stands impressed whenever you defeat the overblots. He has been a witness to a few of them, and he’s even helped you with Azul’s (albeit indirectly), and the sheer skill you have with both of your katanas is astounding.

[ventiswampwater]

invasive

bo sinclair x afab!reader

rating: explicit

wordcount: 941 

Reader POV. Your dreams take you to different places, but you’re never too far out of reach. 

EXTREMELY dubious consent as always. Mostly weird prose, but there’s some smut thrown in here as well. Somnophilia, cockwarming. 

A/N: It’s been raining for nearly a week straight where I am. Every single day has been grey. This idea burrowed into my brain and now I’m inflicting it upon you. Similar vibes to poacher’s dream. I just...really wanted to write something that reminded me of the feeling I was trying to capture with that fic. Somnophilia’s been on my mind ever since I read this absolutely electric fic by our lord and savior, @visceravalentines​. Definitely go read it if you haven’t already. It features a lovely man who is not at all like the one in this fic. We should all make out with him instead, probably. We won’t.

You’re lost in a quagmire of green, knee-deep in muck.

You’re running from something, but you aren’t sure what. You feel like it must be close. You can hear crashing, the sloshing of something at your heels. The water is dark here, it’s deep. You need to watch where you’re going, but you won’t. It feels familiar.

Maybe, if you push a little further, you’ll reach the edge of the marshland.

The trees crowd around each other, their bulbous trunks bursting out of thick green algae. It’s so dense here, impossibly heavy with warmth. It soaks through your clothes, bleeds under your skin. If someone sliced you open and cracked your bones apart, you’re sure you'd flare hot. Chalky white and exposed, scattering chunks of marrow over the swamp. 

Things end up here when they have nowhere left to go. They get caught in the hanging moss and become part of the scenery. 

You’ll make a mess of this place, but it won’t matter. There are animals here, bigger than you, and they’ve been waiting. You couldn’t ever run very fast. These kinds of games are about losing.

It wasn’t behind you, anyway. It caught your ankle underwater and pulled you down, tumbled you underneath its weight. You’re spinning wildly, rolling and churning, filling your lungs with water (but it’s so hot here, and you like that stuff).

It’ll play with its food until your neck snaps. Trailing blood in the water, dragging you back to a den squashed in the mangroves. A place of dead things, hobbled together out of reeds and a dozen people’s bones. You wonder if they sparked like yours, if they’re kindling too.

Your body is perched on top of a waterlogged tire and hid away until it starts to rot. It makes it easier to eat when it’s soft like that, when the botflies come. Practical things are sometimes the cruelest.

God, you’ve never been anywhere this hot.

You wake up with your face pressed into the pillow, huffing out shallow breaths. The room is bathed in pale light, milky grey with the faintest wash of blue.

The grey disorients you. There was so much light before. You blink a bit in the gloom. Water is still rushing away above you, beside you. It’s impossible to tell what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. It feels like forever. You lived and you died long before you were spat out here.

Out of the heat of your dream, you’re surprised to feel your skin prickle with goosebumps. You must have thrown the sheets off in your sleep. The position you’re in feels unnatural, one leg hoisted away from you. It rests on something solid, something warmer than this room.

You feel so full (of water, of bugs in your belly eating away the soft tissue, of life).

Stop, look at the window. You’re not underwater. It’s raining, dripping tears down the glass. You’re awake again and the fullness is the pressure between your legs.  

Bo’s hand cups at your breast, jiggling the flesh to test its weight in his palm. He catches your nipple between his fingers, tugs at it. When he rolls his hips, you let out a soft little noise, mouthing at the pillowcase. His cock pulses inside you, thick and warm. 

He’s already so deep.

“Couldn’t help myself.” He murmurs into your ear. “Not with you movin’ round like that.”

His hand wraps around your thigh, easing you down. You let out a whine as you feel your walls stretch around him. He hisses out a breath, digging his fingers into your skin.

“You’re so wet, baby.” His voice is husky, the rasp of sleep still thick around his words. You can feel how slick you are, how easy it is for him to push in. “What were you dreamin’ ‘bout?”

“You.” You’re not lying, not exactly. He doesn’t need to know the specifics.

It’s the right answer, or, at least, the one he was expecting. You’re never really sure with him. It doesn’t matter, really. Your dream is getting away from you now, chased away by his hands and his lips and his cock. You were somewhere. He was there. You remember heat, you remember weight. 

(Or maybe that’s all there is now and you’re getting things confused.)

“Thought you were tryin’ to kill me, baby.” He nips along your neck. You clench down around him, moaning into the pillow. “Asleep, squeezin’ me like that.”

Good, you almost say. If I wrap myself around you enough times, you can’t breathe. Neither can I, but I only need to do it once. 

People get rid of snakes, throw them off into the swamp. They’re not supposed to be there. But this looks enough like their idea of home, doesn’t it? They’ll adapt or they’ll get eaten, and that’s all you could ask for. 

His breath is warm on your skin. You reach back, your fingers curling into his hair. 

“You ready to stop teasin’ me?”

(I couldn’t stomach you if I did. I’m not supposed to be here, anyway.)

You almost ask him if he had the same dream. Was it hard, waiting for the rot to set in? Waiting for softness? Did you taste better like that? Would he do it again if you asked him to? Could you return the favor?

Your hand tightens in his hair, giving it a sharp tug. His teeth are on your neck and it hurts in the way it’s supposed to hurt—scorching away inside you.

You’ve never been anywhere that hot, but maybe he has. Maybe he’ll take you there.

“Yes.”

[9800sblog]

wooyoung tarot reading

public persona vs real personality

do I have his energy permission to do and share this reading? queen of wands

in public

hypnotizing is the word to describe what wooyoung goes for; childlike (childish), immature, hard to ignore, messy - fun, entertaining, funny, never a dull moment, makes you wanna re-watch his content multiple times. bad, dangerous - sexy, captivating, impressive, killer moments (literally the 10 of swords), he wants to kill with looks, and skills (dance, modeling, body, literally his eyes, etc). out of all ateez members tho, he seems to be the one to try to look most unavailable (the devil reversed), he acts rude, sassy and sometimes distant, because he is the dangerous dude, the bad boy. but never actually too harmful, he's approachable, more like a best friend you're secretely in love with, that you're so close he doesn't even care what he does around you, he's a menace and if you try hard enough you can actually turn your feelings into reality (lmaaaaao). he tries to look super inner confident, like others’s opinions really don't matter to him, he just doesn't listen and they can never get to him, you can't force wooyoung to be or do anything he doesn't genuinely wants to, he's wooyoung, he's the synonym of self control. if he gets bothered, you'll get sliced, he's dangerous and you guys are close enough that he can just show it when he's uncomfortable. big party, big social life, a man of the night, trendy and cool, in with the kids

in privacy

dude's so chill and casual, familiar, literally giving the vibes of a big family that lives nearby each other. he's like so much more introverted, not only did I get the hermit but the 4 of cups at the same time. you see wooyoung quiet in the back during interviews? that's genuinely how he is casually, just vibing in his own head, in his own world. he doesn't move much, he likes things to stay the same forever and ever, if possible, he likes what he already knows. he's a very polite dude, "excuse me, please and thank you" seem to be natural part of his vocabulary, he treats people fairly like how they treat others, actually. very protective of his kind, would kill for those he loves, big big heart. he's not as flashy with his money or physical appearance, like how his style is mostly casual and comfortable gym clothes or how he spent years with that old ass iPhone 5 just because it still worked 😭😭😭☝️I don't think he keeps a lot to himself, he seems to give away his stuff to family and really really close friends, he doesn't care that much about being socially powerful, he likes genuine connections with those that are similar to him (example, moving from a company with a big name to follow a friend because he's genuinely happy with little things and moments). I think he's pretty quiet and private in general and very traditional for SURE, like "there's a proper way to treat people and exist in civilization". hobbies would include quality time with friends and family, arts like pictures, drawing, paintings, cooking, games. he loves company.

[linktoo]

Watching Alien 9 - how it's perceived and what it wanted to say

Warnings for themes of abuse and implied sexual assault. 

Two things before I start: I watched the subbed version of this, and also there are only 4 episodes if you want to check it out yourself, it’s very short.  

I started watching Alien 9 basically knowing nothing about it. It's an older anime, released back in 2001 so there isn't much internet discussion about it for each episode. But I remember watching it slowly realizing there’s a lot to unpack here. The art direction is beautiful and the dialogue is actually really strong. I went out of my way to look for analysis I could find on the internet because there was a lot that I couldn’t really put into words… but I very quickly came across an ongoing issue.

I guess this is probably a common problem with a lot of media that came out before the internet became the juggernaut that it has become today. The discussion you tend to find doesn’t seem to be very cleaned up or very nuanced - a lot of it is also probably lost to time with discussion forums and personal websites shutting down. But all I saw were really outdated remarks, like “oh kasumi’s the lolicon" and "this is pedo bait”, etc. It was gross and frustrating. So I wanted to talk about it in-depth.  

The anime is initially presented to be a cute slice-of-life anime. Set in a regular school with a sci-fi twist, it gives off a cheery sweet vibe, but even from the very beginning, there was always such an off vibe to it all. With the music fluctuating between cute and off-kilter and discordant. Every shot feels vaguely oppressive, trying to hide something that should be immediately within your line of sight if you were there yourself. You immediately get a sense that something is wrong. 

Not to mention so many silent shots of this looming, grotesque-looking alien pod that looms over the school with weapons. 

Someone commented that the OST for this anime like “a child with anxiety” which is such a great way to describe it! It’s filled with lots of very juvenile, bouncy tunes (like lots of recorders and kazoos and xylophones and horns), even with motifs that sound similar to nursery rhymes like “Mary Had a Little Lamb” but in a minor key. It gives a very jaunty feeling while distinctly feeling off. I think it also has a very soldierly, elementary school vibe to it - like the sound of a bell and young students chanting together in unison like a military cadence. There are instances of kids singing as a choir, giving a religious, holy aspect to certain tracks. It also mixes in synthy, crazy bonker wet sounding and snappy sound samples for the alien feel of it all. It’s erratic. And it’s so cohesive!! I really don’t know much about music composition, but it’s so distinctive to fit the narrative and themes of the show and I love it. Check it out if you’re interested, it’s so funky: [x]

The show focuses on three 12-year-old girls, being tasked with capturing and subduing aliens  with guns, roller skates, and symbiotic aliens that are attached to their heads and feed on their body fluids. Yeah. That’s a bit overwhelming. 

And Yuri Otani, the main character, gets so much shit for hating it. She was forced into it, in a very isolating method of basically the entire classroom ganging up to all vote for her to join (no one wanted to join themselves). The other two, Kumi and Kasumi, are very competent in their own way, which makes Yuri’s inability to capture these very understandably disturbing, pulsating creatures look foolish in comparison.

She cries. Yuri cries a lot. She’s already had a very overwhelming fear with anything that pertains to aliens and left to her own devices she collapses, faints, shudders, wails, and shuts down throughout the entire show. 

And understandably so, it’s creepy and gross and absolutely horrid! It doesn’t get any better!! But everyone around her acts like fighting these aliens are completely normal. Her peers are passive about her distress. Her one kind classmate friend tells her it’s not that bad because of the emergency perks. The adults around her tell her to just stick it out. The other two peers in the alien fighter club frankly have their own concerns and it’s more than just a bit of a liability that Yuri can barely defend herself at all. 

Yuri in turn struggles with depression every moment she isn’t fighting aliens. She can't get out of bed in the morning. She zones out, at home and at work. It’s very resonant with me, because that kind of depression is debilitating and takes over so much of your life - you’re seen as lazy when really, you quite literally can’t function unless someone firmly and continuously forces you to do something. It’s upsetting to watch. 

There are invasive, sexual overtones to this story. A lot of people have likened it to an allegory of puberty where your body is rapidly changing and just in general everything feels very confusing and upsetting. Being taken advantage of because you aren’t experienced. The danger that these adults put these children in and tell them just to figure it out or basically die trying, is very reminiscent of a lot of real societal pressure for kids to grow up with very little emotional support. To “toughen” them up, because one day they have to face this big scary world alone. It’s uncomfortable and it gets worse as the story progresses. 

I don’t want to get into it too much, but there is an allegorical gang rape scene that occurs to Yuri in episode 2. The Hunt club advisor already recognized that she was struggling with alien capturing and was instructed to feed the aliens alone, without the help of the other two members to keep her safe. There, three boys who willingly attached aliens to their head and have had this odd fixation on Yuri for several days, find her all alone. It’s violent. Their drills are overtly phallic themed. I can’t get over the haunting statement of her friend calling her “miss popular” just a few hours beforehand. Their attention was NEVER wanted and that framing is so unsettling to me, like the way people say women who were sexually assaulted were “asking for it”. It’s one of the most disturbing parts of the whole show.

It’s repulsive what they do to her. And her pain is destructive not to herself, but everyone around her. 

And how she immediately collapses when she sees the one person that has always been the closest thing to emotional support throughout the entire show. 

There are very human moments in the show, when there are people that show signs of affection that they didn’t have to do, but did it because they cared about her and it makes all the difference.

Yuri’s one friend Miyu always waits to walk home with her. The alien capturing duties are very isolating from the rest of the school, and forces Yuri to stay very late after everybody leaves. But Miyu waits long hours, and at the end of the day, excitedly meets up with her. She invites Yuri to go shopping with her. It’s very obvious she looks forward to the time they spend together.

(E.g. Miyu reading the shopping manual, passing a note to Yuri in class, the way she runs up to meet Yuri when she’s free. It’s so sweet.)

You can even see the beams almost being prison bars that Yuri is momentarily free from. She’s the reason why Yuri gets enough courage and resolve to try her best again with alien fighting and bonding with the others of her own accord. It shows a lot about Yuri’s desire to do well with the insane tasks and responsibilities her adults give her, even when no one else notices. 

The other two members of the alien capturing club are Kumi and Kasumi.

And though they help Yuri out, it’s definitely a little of a drag for them. Kumi in particular has this deep rooted anger when Yuri begs for help. Her own situation at home reminds her that she is constantly relied on; to be the good sport, to be the mature one in every situation and make all the decisions for everyone. 

“I don’t feel like being nice. Not anymore.

[...]

You know something? I was the class leader from grade one onward. Being class leader sucks. All you do is look after other people and you even have to be responsible for what they do. I always got stuck doing all the crappy jobs. That's why I have this position now. So nobody can say to me ‘YOU be the leader.’ Back off and take care of your own problems.” - Kumi

You can even see her wardrobe tends to be clothes that make her more mature than she actually is, especially her black turtleneck. But she’s just a kid, too.

And to her, Yuri is another pathetic whiny colleague asking for her help. Again. And she’s tired.

Kasumi's own narrative definitely is its own disturbing, isolated situation. She’s seen to be the least upset out of the three of them in the whole series, always with a level head and a smile on her face. She’s a prodigy, and seemingly enjoys what she does. She loves everything - sports, playing music, scoring high on tests. But you can see how it feels rather empty, how she’s put herself in this situation to constantly affirm to all the adults in her life that she is well adjusted and super talented. I get the feeling she was not given the love and attention really needed as a child, and did everything she could to get some form of acknowledgement. Notably, her big brother who is noticeably absent the entire time. For… disturbingly what was implicated to be because of incest and grooming. She never quite recovers from the yellowknife alien taking advantage of her unhealthy dependency on him, as they weren’t able to save her before it symbiotically fused with her.

It's not until the traumatic incident Yuri goes through that it’s revealed that the three of them are emotionally bound and feel Yuri’s distress as if it's their own. It’s startling, like they realize that they all experienced that same terror individually, but Yuri’s is much more paralyzing. And understanding that distress, they become particularly protective about her. They only have each other that can ever fully understand what they’re going through at the moment. A classmate couldn’t ever really see that, and Kumi and Kasumi become the people in Yuri’s life that truly empathize with the situation.

and with all of them, Yuri SHINES.

Every time there is a kindness that someone extends to her, her eyes light up. She goes quiet and says, “I think I can stick this out, I think I can keep fighting for a little while longer” and god honestly it makes me feel so weepy. Being shown even one ounce of love, one little action that says “I want you to be here with me,” it gives so much weight to her as a person, someone that keeps her being like. I don’t know! Just a little kid!! Doing random kid stuff!!! It’s genuinely healing and the things they do to coax her out of her shell just a little bit brings levity of the show and moments that she can feel safe again.

You also really get to see as she’s encouraged to get over her fears on a much lower level of danger (swimming in an ocean, running through a “haunted” shrine) with her friends. Even when she’s heavily reminded of her traumatic experiences, she can always run away, back to her friends' arms. 

Notice I didn’t point out her advisor leading the alien capturing duties, because she obviously has no real care towards these kids. It’s honestly a little insidious, because every adult Yuri comes in contact with is female, and have this like, motherly/teacher tone that can SOUND nice and polite, but it’s cold. It’s distant. The three go through harrowing experiences and all the advisor can focus on is her job, and what it means for her. Just that it’s just a nuisance to her. 

“This is strange. I didn’t ask for this. I wonder if it got here by attaching itself to a spaceship. I haven’t even finished checking everyone’s summer homework. This is the last thing I needed!”

Obviously, that doesn’t even begin to talk about how she and the other adults are not transparent at all and have hidden intentions for the girls.

And I want to get into that as a narrative with the discussion online, because holy FUCK. 

It’s time to talk about the obvious Neon Genesis Evangelion (NGE) inspiration that touches the show, from the stark compositions and beautiful animation and notably, how the main character is struggling with depression and the overwhelming responsibility that’s piled onto him. It’s honestly such an interesting comparison to me especially since the two main characters are in starkly different (yet overwhelming) situations. While Shinji is a 16-year-old boy, Yuri is a 12-year-old girl and their societal expectations based on each identity sets them apart. 

Everyone really loves to compare Shinji and Yuri, even going so far as to say “Alien 9 is basically just NGE.” God. That’s a bit reductive of a comparison. You can see the way they talk about both of them, how useless and crybaby and whiny they both are perceived to be by this audience. 

They call Yuri “bitchy”, they call her “useless crybaby”, they call her stupid and moronic, but most importantly, they say she has 0 character development throughout the entire show. I want to take a second to process that, because trauma does NOT equal character development. 

And finally, I want to talk about one of the most casually unsettling parts of the show for me, personally:

Yuri’s teacher notices that she’s distracted and detached. She can’t focus on school. And her assumption?

That she’s thinking about summer vacation. And then, in the very next scene, Yuri asks to quit the alien capturing duties because she can’t take it anymore - and the teacher says THIS.

The hypocrisy and apathy in these two scenes. The way adults pretend they care but also assume every sign of distress means you're just lazy. It’s heartwrenching. Which one is it? Stop relaxing, or don’t be so uptight? It’s maddening to me. To change the narrative to suit your own assumptions about this child because really, Yuri doesn’t have a choice in the matter. And she continues to collapse under the weight of these responsibilities, and continue to be locked into something that she is completely incapable of handling. 

Yuri is so overwhelmed all she can do is shut down and cry and everyone just tells her to get over it like one day she'll snap and do her job no problem like she's not going through the most harrowing shit no one should ever go through ever in their lives. And she ends up screwing up more and more because they keep withdrawing all support to "toughen her up". They NEVER take her seriously, they never let her breathe because she's just a little crybaby girl who doesn't know what's best for her and it just keeps getting worse.

And that’s what is so haunting to me, to see such a common response from the audience watching this same show, to sound exactly like these adults. To take away from the show that Yuri is useless and bratty and should have snapped and fought back at one point, like a main protagonist in a hero’s journey converting their trauma into a badass version of themselves or something. I don’t know, there’s something to be said about how these tone deaf reviews were written and discussed by cis men, while one of the few blog posts I actually liked about Alien 9 was posted in 2021 by two women. There’s a bit of a whiplash to how people received this show on the internet based on who was watching and when.

Anyway, there’s still way more to unpack in terms of the other characters in the show, but I’ll leave it here. Alien 9 in all of its flaws and open-ended questions deserves to be engaged head on. It has its flaws and due to cancellation and budget cuts, was forced to leave on a cliffhanger on its fourth and final episode. A lot was left open. 

But it had a very particular set tone from the beginning, and there was a lot of deliberate intention behind their creative decisions. I’m tired of seeing people say “it’s sooo weird” and “they didn’t know what they were doing” for discussion. It’s definitely a show I keep thinking about on and off again.

[theharrowing]

Lost & Found

Taehyung just wants to be left alone. Too bad you need a place to stay.

👻 Ghost Taehyung x Living Non-Gendered Reader (platonic), formerly Taehyung x Yoongi

👻 word count: 1.9k

👻 strangers to friends (kind of), haunting au, angst, hint of fluff, hurt/comfort, slice of life, 18+

👻 warnings: Taehyung is a ghost and we learn how he died, but it is not too graphic; grief, depression and crying. this might be sad for some, but i did my best to make it light and hopeful.

👻 note: since it’s a drabble, the descriptions are not as vivid as usual. it’s mostly ~vibes~.

👻 requested by @sabiekay for my Harrowing Halloween event! thank you so much for requesting!!! 💜 i, uhhhh.........i was not intending for this to be so focused on grief, but given my last couple of weeks, i am also not shocked by how i ended it. i hope you don't mind! 😅

👻 story told from Taehyung's pov!

👻 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

👻 posted nov. 2023 | read on ao3

Taehyung watches with a frown as you lean over the kitchen counter and sign a new lease. His kitchen counter, where he prepared his food all those years ago. 

He frowns as he imagines you messing it up with condensating cups and take-out containers. Will you wash it properly with a detergent made for porous material or fuck it up with the cheap shit he has seen tenant after tenant spray on its surface?

That tends to be his final straw – the push he needs to haunt someone adequately enough to scare them off. He hates it when people fail to show consideration for other people's things. Just because he is dead does not mean this house is any less his. 

He bought this house with his own money, fresh out of college. He proposed to the love of his life in the center of the living room just past where you shake hands with the landlord. And right above you, where there are three balusters that look slightly different from the rest on the wooden railing of the upper level was where he leaned just a little too hard unknowingly against rotting wood, falling to his death. 

Just because the impact of his skull against that very kitchen counter that you lean against was culpable in his death, does not mean he wants some asshole from who-knows-where getting it all dirty and not taking proper care of it. 

You have a nice smile, at least, albeit a little sad around the edges and never reaching your eyes. As he shifts just enough to make the curtains move and steps just close enough to give you a chill, he could swear you look directly at him, right into his eyes. 

But why would you rent a home knowing that it is haunted by the ghost of its past? Taehyung finds the notion ridiculous. He is certain the landlord did not disclose the fact that previous tenants have broken their leases feeling scared for their lives after he has grown impatient and terrorized them; why would he?

As soon as the landlord is gone, Taehyung watches as you slump down to the hardwood floor, sitting with your knees bent, hugging them tightly. You do not look like a person who has made a big, happy life decision, and Taehyung finds himself nearly wishing to console you. Nearly. 

"What am I doing?" you grumble into your knees before letting out a deep sigh. 

Taehyung tests your limits almost immediately. He gets the sense that you might not hate the thought of not being perfectly alone, as he has caught you crying more than once, and you do not seem to have very many people you reach out to for comfort, if any at all. To say you seem lonely is an understatement.

When you come from around the kitchen counter, which is mostly bare of any personal items, he stands in your path, allowing you to feel just enough of his presence to get a chill down your spine. To his delight, you halt and look around as if trying to sense more of him, but then you shrug and carry on through the living room, to the hideous brown couch that clashes with your hideous black coffee table to dissociate, he assumes. 

You spend a long time looking at nothing. Sometimes he slightly moves your scented candles a few inches over and opens the curtains just a crack, and you never seem to notice. Or, perhaps you don't care.

Truth be told, Taehyung prefers to be left alone. He likes it when his house is perfectly calm, still, and quiet. He can still remember the way it smelled when he and his fiancé Yoongi occupied the space, and he hates to imagine what it may smell like with someone around; he feels thankful that his sense of smell is gone, feeling none too eager to discover what candles like Witches Brew and Boo-Nana Toffee would do to the place.

Every inch of this home, even after years of new paint jobs and different, ugly furnishings, holds a different memory of Yoongi occupying the space. Seeing someone else in the home that was meant for the two of them feels wrong. 

At least you do not take up a ton of space, but your depression kills the mood. The energy in the house is constantly off, and even Taehyung cannot fathom why you don't just go out and meet new people. It seems that you work or study from home; Taehyung does not pay close attention. He prefers to avoid traveling to the upper level of the house, and that is where you seem to spend the working hours of the day. 

Each weekday, like clockwork, 5:05 pm rolls around, and you shuffle out of the smaller of the two rooms on the upper floor – the one where Taehyung had all of his art supplies set up and laid out long ago, where he assumes you have an office space set up. You are always dressed nicely from the waist up but wear sweatpants or pajama shorts and slippers, and you plop down on your couch, letting out a sigh so heavy that even the huff of air from the cushions under your weight falling against it cannot cover the sound.

Each weekday, like clockwork, you turn on the television and stare toward the screen, never seeming to watch it. Sometimes, you scroll around on your phone. Often, you cry. And then, after several bleak hours of seemingly nothing, you shut off the television, walk up the stairs, turn out all the lights, and leave Taehyung alone. 

"I think the house may be haunted," Taehyung hears you say one day.  

To his surprise, your voice travels from the upper floor, and he perks up from his place on your couch, glancing up in your direction.

You sit at the top of the stairs, looking down through the railing banister, directly at Taehyung. Well, at the space that Taehyung occupies. He wonders if you can see the slight dip that he likes to make in the cushion. He had been doing it for weeks with the hope of creeping you out, and he had begun to wonder whether you had been noticing at all. 

This is only the second time Taehyung has ever seen you talking to another human being, and he watches with fascination as your face contorts to something that may actually be considered a smile. 

"It's a vibe I get," you say with a shrug. 

Eager to enhance the vibe, so to speak, Taehyung slowly begins to stand. He is certain that the shifting of his energy is causing the cushion of the couch to relax from its indented position, and he watches with delight as your eyes widen, following the movement. 

“S-sorry,” you mutter into the phone, shifting in place while your eyes stay glued to the couch, “spaced out. What did you say?”

Taehyung stays put while you finish your conversation, having all the time in the world to watch as your eyes trail knowingly back to the spot on the couch before you finally stand and retreat into one of the upstairs rooms. 

Today, when 5:05 pm rolls around and you do not shuffle from the upstairs room, Taehyung grows concerned. He moves to the kitchen and checks the calendar you have hanging on the fridge, which is covered in images and stickers of kittens, confirming today is a weekday by seeing that the last day you crossed a black x over – yesterday – was Wednesday. 

He considers walking up the stairs to make sure you are alright, but he hesitates. Not since Yoongi left, has he been in the bedroom they shared. Not since grief pushed his beautiful fiancé to pack up and move out and never return – a grief that Taehyung shares to this day. 

But as the minutes tick by, Taehyung becomes increasingly worried. He tells himself that he should go upstairs and check on you – that if it is too much to handle, he will return downstairs. 

Slowly, Taehyung makes his way up, walking each step at a time despite not needing to, just to hear the third step creak underfoot as it has so many times before. He keeps expecting to see you appear at the top landing, ready for your daily routine of spacing out during reruns of a drama he once enjoyed, but you never do. 

Once at the top landing, he hears you crying. It is unmistakable the way you sob – familiar in the way each inhale rattles through your lungs. 

When he rounds the corner and peeks into the master bedroom, nostalgia hits him hard. You sit at the edge of your bed with your head in your hands, just as Yoongi had for months after the accident.

Without thinking, Taehyung approaches and sits on the bed beside you, close enough that the dip from his weight makes you gasp and lift your head to check. 

Your hand falls to the spot, straight through Taehyung’s leg, and you chuckle while sniffling wetly. Taehyung is shocked to see you smiling, slight as it is. 

"Hey, there," you say through a shaky inhale. "I was wondering if you would ever join me."

Silence hangs, and Taehyung weighs his options. He is certain that he has no voice that can be heard, and changing the weight of his energy might actually freak you out. To his own surprise, Taehyung finds he is not eager to scare you away. And so, he just sits with you, and he does nothing. 

“It doesn’t get easier, does it?” you ask after a long pause, eyes cast down on your hand that traces dips in the fabric of the soft white comforter. Softer, as if just to yourself, you say, “I don’t know how to let her go.”

Taehyung gets it, he really does. Without knowing who you have lost and how, he cannot help but think of Yoongi, of the life they were building, and of the love that they shared. 

For the first time since Yoongi left, Taehyung feels glad his house is not empty of life. He wants to tell you that it will get easier, but that it never really goes away; that the pain ebbs and flows, and some days are harder than others. He wants to console you in more ways than just sitting by your side. It is strange, but he thinks he wants to try a little harder to befriend you – to make his presence known.

“At least I have cool ghost vibes to keep me company,” you mutter, making yourself laugh as you sniffle in a sob and your tears come out over a bright smile. "Thank you for sitting with me and making me feel a little less alone."

For the first time since Yoongi left, Taehyung feels glad to know he can bring comfort to someone again. And for the first time in years, his house feels a little more like a home; a place where those who have lost may just find something new. 

HAPPY (late) HALLOWEEEEN!!! 🎃👻🍂

the ending feels a bit abrupt, but i was trying to keep it as short and sweet as possible. it felt like if i tried to add even one more scene, it would become a beast needing to be tamed lolol.

i hope you enjoy this little drabble! i have a couple more on the way, so look forward to Halloween vibes in November hehe. submissions for this event are closed, but i hope to do it again, next year!!!

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS KEEP ME WRITING, AND LIKES MAKE MY DAY BRIGHT!!! THANK YOU FOR READING! I LOVE YOU!

tag list: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 👻 wanna be tagged in all my works? dm me!

Lost & Found is copyright theharrowing 2023. no translations or reposting allowed!

[shiningmystic]

A piece of info on your soulmate/future spouse ❤️✨

Pick a Card

Happy Valentine’s Day lovelies! Just made a quick reading for all cause I felt it in my bones and I’m kinda in the clouds constantly connecting to my soulmate 🤣 just wanted to bring something to you about yours!

So the question was just to know a piece about them, information on who they are what they believe in etc. just a slice of the pie that is them, whoever that person may be ;)

Here are the piles, I close my eyes and see which ones are coming towards me and don’t be afraid to choose 2 or all of them! They may embody all these pieces in their own mosaic:

This reading is nothing fancy just some quick messages about them!

Justice pile 1

Your person will not compromise their morals and are very authentic towards everyone. They don’t mix emotions with business and take things that need care to safety. I’m getting a knightly vibe from pile one where they will not by into lies and never take ish from people but they pick and choose battles wisely. Super smart even if they aren’t book smart definitely a thinker and a problem solver. Your person will have no problem pushing logic back into someone’s face and show them they will not be treaded upon. They have a great work ethic and know what they want. I see a kindness to them that is truly genuine and comes from the right place. I can see through all these piles your soulmates are all very passionate over you guys like crazy cause I can’t pretend the message isn’t coming through like 10 times 😂

Ace of pentacles pile 2

I can see pile 2 you have a much more carefree kind of person but not one who can’t get what they want. I can see many connections, a social person. They will be very public with there affection even if it isn’t physical they are doing everything else to emphasize their love. This does not mean touch will not be something they won’t want to do just saying what I’m seeing. I see many many many gifts from them but many sentimental and thoughtful ones along with the random trips and experiences they want to have with you. I do see luxury getting Venus vibes so they have great taste I mean they picked you 😉 I also see opportunity a sense of wonder and adventure. Very sweet human! They will be able to provide everything you desire to be very honest, or at least they will try 💕 just to quickly mention as well I felt that all three piles are full of passionate people so expect them to be crazy about you in there own ways 😌

Knight of wands reversed

3 of swords

So for pile 3 your spirit guides are saying this person has been through the thick of it. They have been through many hearts breaks but from what I understand; when I receive a message like this it means that you have also been through your own suffering and pain. From this connection I see you will feel heard understood and allowed to be expressive/open about yourselves and your feelings. Even through the hard stuff I hear spirit guides saying they will not turn their back on you. I see that because of there deep pain they are healing right now and will find there way to you and their own hearts again; do not worry about them because again you may be struggling yourself and must find what is maiming you before you can fully take care of another. I see your soulmate will be a delightful person with a drive and a passion for life. Very youthful passionate individual that has a lot to do and say. I see from the knight they have a charisma, they know how to have fun and be playful with there words. I see them being a physical person maybe sports, they are def active. Adventure and excitement just keep resonating through every pile haha

Happy Valentine’s Day! May this find the people who need a little love ❤️ makes me happy to know something about them.

I hope you all enjoyed this small little piece of your soulmates/future spouses!

[tsukimefuku]

Human resources, tasukete!

You're concerned and decide to ask your friends about Jujutsu High's HR policies regarding romantic relationships.

Tags: Implied/Past Nanami x OC/f!Reader. Higuruma x OC/f!Reader. Slight jujusanpo vibes. Crack taken (somewhat) seriously. Slice of life vibes. Humor. Angst. Fluff. Gojo, Shoko and Ijichi are at a loss. Reader is terrified of Shoko.

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma long fic I might write. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots and short stories, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer these stories are NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

"So, Hiromi, I have some concerns." You said, sat beside him on a bench, as you both took a break from strolling around Tokyo. You had a bag of sweets to bribe Gojo the following day, and licked mindlessly at your popsicle.

"You always have concerns, my dear." Higuruma answered, sipping on his soda through the straw, glad the cold beverage provided him with some relief in such a hot day. "What is it?"

"I have no idea if we should be publicly involved. I mean, I don't mind keeping it to ourselves, but-" You stopped to ponder for a moment. "Does Jujutsu High even have some kind of policy regarding relationships in the workplace?"

He looked at you and shrugged. "Whichever you decide is fine by me." He took another sip. "They might, given there are some missions involving two or more parties."

"Yeah, but there are those two weird siblings that usually go together on every mission, so I don't know, really." You paused. "Do you think they need to follow labor laws of any sort?"

Higuruma snorted at the sheer absurdity of it, grinning sardonically. "Well, I really don't think so. And if they do, any sensible lawyer would refuse their case. I mean..." He vaguely gestured in the air.

You smiled, a little embarrassed at the stupid question. "Yeah. Probably not. But it is a possibility they have some sort of internal policy about it, so I'll try finding out about it, okay? Because they barely tolerate me, and your sentence is merely suspended, as far as we know."

"Well, if we make our relationship known," he said, pulling you from your waist to press against him. You chuckled, and he planted a small kiss on your lips. "I'll get to kiss you whenever, wherever. I'd like that very much."

***

"Spill it." Shoko said, turning around and looking straight at you, while holding her cup of coffee. You were both seated at the morgue, as you helped her with her reports, having nothing else to do today. She clearly noticed your eyes burning a hole through her back, choked up on words.

"So, if someone hypothetically had a relationship with a co-worker here in Jujutsu High, how should they proceed?"

"What?"

"I mean, paperwork. What should they do?" You explained.

She was silent for a few moments, a little taken aback by your question. "Are you and Nanami-"

You sighed. "Shoko, the question is hypothetical."

She walked towards you, putting her coffee cup over one of the gurneys, and hovered, ominously. You involuntarily made yourself smaller, pinching your shoulders, as you sat on a small bench.

"Well, hypothetically, are you and Nanami together?" She inquired. 

Shoko had seen the glances, smiles and eventual hugs you two had shared in vulnerable moments. On top of that, she was familiar with Nanami ever since high school, and knew for a fact he wasn't the smiley-huggy type of person. The tension between the two of you was palpable to anyone whenever you and him were both in the same vicinity.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You answered, slightly scared.

The ominous energy grew dire. Shoko wanted her tea and she was going to have it one way or the other.

You leaned back, defeated. "No, it's not Nanami."

"Say what now?" Shoko asked, surprised. "Who is it?"

"Can you promise me not to talk to anyone about this, please?" 

"Yeah, yeah, fine." She dismissed your concerns, shaking her hand in the air. "Now who is it? Don't tell me it's Gojo-"

"What the hell, Shoko!? Ugh, no, never." You answered, shivering, and not in a good way. A great friend, but a man child, after all. "It's Higuruma."

"Oh..." She let out, "He's kinda brooding, I can see the appeal. But... I always thought you and Nanami-"

"Me too. I was wrong, clearly." You replied, sharply, feeling a knot bubbling up your throat.

"What do you mean?" She inquired.

"Ask him." You spat out, grabbing her cup of coffee and taking a sip. You grimaced. How does this woman drink this with no sugar or sweetener whatsoever?

Shoko noticed your face twisting, taking the cup back from your hands. "Sugar is for the weak."

"Then, I'm a weakling." You retorted, getting up. "I'll try to find out if there is anything I should or not do about this regarding Human Resources, or whatever the hell you have in place here."

"I mean, if I were you, I'd just keep it to myself." She pointed out, earnestly.

"Well, I thought about it, but I'm worried that saying nothing might be detrimental to me or him, given our... Particularities."

"Hm. Maybe you're right." Shoko answered, as you made your way out of the morgue.

Nanami how tf did you let that happen?! Shoko chastised him, texting as soon as you left the morgue. 

Ieiri, I have no idea what you're referring to. Could you please be more specific?

The woman you so clearly love is dating what's-his-face black suit.

The typing icon appeared and disappeared on Shoko's screen around six times. It disappeared for a minute, and then came back, lasting a long time.

It's for the best. I hope she's happy.

On the other side of the conversation, Nanami was splayed over his sofa, staring at the ceiling, trying to not feel too sorry for himself. His efforts weren't working as well as expected, as he drowned in a mixture of jealousy and longing for you. But at least, like this, he'd surely have no other chance to slip up and hurt you like he did ever again. 

At least, he tried muttering to himself, willing this fantasy into existence.

At... Least. He covered his face with his forearm, sighing deeply, as he picked his book up to resume his reading session. The words on paper were no longer making any sense.

***

Gojo saw you approaching him in the dojo. He had his casual on, white long sleeve shirt and glasses, after training one of the first-years. 

"Hey, Satoru! How are you?" You said, walking towards the sorcerer holding a paper bag. "So, I remember you liked this particular type of kikufuku-"

"Stop right there," Gojo answered, leaned against the wall, tilting his head to the side with his frivolous smile plastered on his face. "I know bribery when I see it."

You sighed. "I mean, do you actually care that this is bribery or not?"

He chuckled, extending his hand and motioning you to proceed. "Of course I don't. Give it to me. What flavor are those?"

"Matcha."

"Oh, yeah. Very nice." Gojo said, satisfied, as he took the paper bag from your hands. "What do you want from me this time? Saving somebody else's life? Just my fantastic company? Tell me!"

You chuckled, sitting on the ground, looking up at him. "Human resources."

"... The what now?" He answered, pushing an entire kikufuku inside his mouth, looking very pleased. "Wow, I need to know where you bought these. Is it a new store?"

"That's unimportant right now." You shut down his rising antics. "If someone has a relationship with a co-worker here at Jujutsu High, do they have to report it?"

Gojo looked at you, surprised, swallowing his sweets. "Hm... Seriously?"

"What?"

"Why would I know the answer to that question? Do I look like I have a secret sorcerer affair or something?"

"... Huh? This isn't about you, Satoru. What the hell." You retorted, incredulous. "I just need to know if there is any paperwork involved."

He simply shrugged, munching away. "Beats me. No idea."

This was useless.

You got up, in frustration, and that was when Gojo actually processed the words you just had said. "Wait, what do you mean 'you need to know' anything about that? Are you-"

"Bye, pretty boy!" You said, leaving the dojo completely empty-handed. What a waste of money on those kikufuku. Gojo seemed happy to receive them, at least.

***

"Ijichi, you're my last hope!" You jumped him, almost yelling, and the man nearly passed out when you left the bushes looking like a maniac. He thought Master Tengen's shields could have been compromised, and he was being lunged at by a curse.

You were walking around the campus relentlessly, like a predator in the middle of a hunt, trying to catch Ijichi before he left, considering most of his days were spent at home office, from what you had gathered.

"Y-yes, Ms.? H-how can I help you?" He asked, shaking briefly like a frail twig, before recomposing himself and adjusting his tie.

"How do I report a romantic relationship to whatever you guys have for human resources? Or I don't have to?" You asked, holding his shoulders, looking intently at the man, while taken by some kind of desperation.

He was, indeed, your last hope, before you had to speak directly to Yaga in order to inquire him about it.

Ijichi blankly stared at you, buffering your question before he could muster up an answer. "We don't really deal with those kinds of things administratively. So you don't have to report anything, I g-guess." Are she and Nanami-san...? He began pondering, mentally.

Ijichi never got to finish his thought, though.

You sighed, relieved, and pulled him into your arms, hugging the assistant tightly, almost jumping like a schoolgirl. "You're my hero, thank you!" 

His face faintly blushed at the sudden appreciation received from a sorcerer, with no back-handed innuendo. "Y-You're... Welcome."

You let him go, smiled, and started frolicking your way out of the campus, glad there was nothing to report to any kind of higher authority other than your own anxiety due to this whole situation.