#weak hero class x male reader

[niki-phoria]

Please I need Yeon sieun dating head canons.

pairing: kdrama!sieun x gn!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of parental neglect/bullying

includes: reader is booksmart/likes studying, post layout is kinda messy oops, this is my first attempt at writing hcs pls, i am begging for sieun x male reader reqs

a/n: i don't write hcs but i had a few ideas for this so i did my best lol thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

⋆｡°✩ first meeting

— he’s SO awkward when you first meet

— probably ignores you at first lmao

— sieun doesn’t care much about his peers/other classmates but you catch his eye because of your intelligence

— he still focus more on his studies tho

sieun sits at his usual seat in class, hunched over his desk as he reviews his notes for an upcoming english exam. his hand hovers just above the paper as he skims through the words and makes small mental notes about which parts to continue practicing.

the sudden halted chatter from his classmates catches sieun’s attention. he glances up briefly, setting his pencil aside when he notices his teacher standing in her usual position at the front of the classroom. beside her is an unfamiliar teenager wearing a thin black jacket draped over the school’s button up. 

“class,” the teacher begins, gesturing to you. “this is y/n. they’re a new student here.”

“hello,” you say, bowing to the class. 

“there’s an open spot next to sieun,” she says, gently pushing you towards him. “you can sit there for now.”

sieun lets out a small sigh in annoyance as you shuffle over before sliding into the seat beside him. the mindless chatter of your classmates resumes as the door closes, signaling your teacher’s exit. he reaches over to grab his earbuds once again, reaching up to place one into his ear when a voice interrupts him. “number four is wrong.”

sieun stops in his tracks, glaring in your direction. you had also pulled out a notebook, filled with your own scribbled notes and miscellaneous doodles decorating the corners. “it’s a dependant clause, not independent,” you elaborate before turning back to your own notes. 

despite his better judgment, sieun backtracks to question four. he scoffs slightly when he rereads the question again. you were right. 

“thanks,” he mumbles. 

you simply smile, waving him off with the slight shake of your head. “anytime.”

⋆｡°✩ first date

— you have to ask him out. he will never make the first move

— needs a lot of reassurance. this is his first relationship and he likes you a lot. he doesn’t wanna mess it up. bare with him

— probably started off as a study hangout and turned into a study date ngl

you flip your pen between your fingers as you watch sieun continue to scribble down notes. his apartment remains silent except for the occasional noise of either of you flipping through your textbooks or the incessant noise of sieun’s pencil against the page. 

you set your own pencil aside, ignoring your notes in favour of admiring the boy in front of you. sieun’s fringe is just barely short enough to avoid falling into his eyes. his eyebrows furrow every now and then as his eyes rapidly switch between his notebook and the textbook laid out beside him. his teeth catch his bottom lip between them - a particularly attractive habit you had noticed over the months of getting to know each other. 

siuen pauses when he notices your lack of writing, glancing up at you momentarily. you can’t help the soft smile that spreads across your face when you notice his cheeks heating up slightly. 

“you’re staring,” he says.

“i’m admiring,” you tease. sieun’s writing pauses for a second before resuming, though his blush has spread fully across his face, tinting the skin a light pink. 

a tranquil silence falls over the room once again. it feels so intimate - sitting with sieun in his quiet apartment. your little quirks have made their way into his life despite your young age. a new pair of slides sits at the door, awaiting your arrival. the front pouch of sieun’s backpack has been cleaned out of the usual pencils and highlighters in favour of snacks and packets of gum for you to take at your convenience. he no longer reaches for his left earbud; the small device being reserved for you. 

your feelings for sieun jumble together in a mess of half-finished love letters and detailed confessions deeply confined to your mind. after spending over a month suppressing the urge to tell him, you finally can’t help yourself anymore.

“sieun,” you reach out to take his hand into yours. you smile as he intertwines your fingers together. he stops his studying to look up at you - something he’s never done for anyone else. “i like you.”

his eyes widen in surprise. your breath hitches in your throat and your body tenses. it feels like hours of waiting for his reaction before he finally speaks. 

“i like you too.”

a bright smile spreads across your face, making sieun’s lips quirk upwards into a soft smile of his own. “will you be mine?”

“only if you’ll be mine too,” he smiles as he squeezes your still-intertwined hands.

⋆｡°✩ first kiss

— “i don’t know what to do with my hands”

— has never been kissed before slkdnsl

— probably doesn’t kiss back at first but he’ll get the hang of it

— more of a peck than an actual kiss tbh

— it takes a lot of trust and vulnerability to get to this point with siuen. he’s not used to feeling love or affection so kisses mean a lot to you

you sigh to yourself, dramatically stretching before a yawn escapes you. the noise catches sieun’s attention, making him pause momentarily as he watches you attempt to blink some of the sleepiness out of your eyes. “you should get some rest,” he says. 

you glance at your textbook once more before nodding with another small sigh. “so should you. you’ve been working for even longer than i have.”

“i’m fine.” the words escape sieun’s lips almost instinctively as he continues his studying. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, closing your textbook and shoving it into your backpack in preparation for school the next day. 

“sieun…” you circle around the dining room table so you’re standing behind your boyfriend. you lean down to gently rest your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscles. a small sigh of content escapes him as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his cheek. “you’re exhausted. come on, let’s go to bed.”

sieun finally relents after a few more seconds, letting his own pencil fall to the side before he stands up. your arm snakes around his waist as you help him tidy up; rhythmically packing up his pencils into the case and sliding each textbook back into its rightful place inside of his bag. 

you set your backpacks beside each other as you guide sieun towards his bedroom. his bed remains in the corner, still perfectly tidied from his morning routine. 

sieun climbs into bed first, sliding underneath the covers before you join him. his arm finds its familiar home around your waist to keep your body closely against his. you bring your hand up to cup sieun’s cheek, brushing your thumb against his soft skin. he smiles as your fingers trail down his face to trace along his jawline before they finally settle underneath his chin. 

sieun’s breath hitches when you brush your thumb against his plump bottom lip. he’s grateful for the darkness covers the blush burning on his cheeks. your voice is quiet when you break the silence. “sieun,” you whisper.

“what is it?”

“can i kiss you?”

his body tenses beside you before he forces himself to relax. sieun can feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. “i’ve… never kissed anybody before.”

“it’s okay.” even in the moonlight he can see you softly smiling at him. “we can take it slow, okay? i won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

he knows. sieun has never felt safe with anyone like he does with you. but he nods nevertheless. “please kiss me,” he whispers. 

your hand moves from his chin to cup his cheek once again. after a few seconds you finally lean in, gently pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss. 

sieun brings his own hand up to your cheek, hesitantly leaning in and replicating your movements. this one lasts much longer than the first. you can nearly feel all of the love being poured into it. 

you both smile when you finally pull away, pressing a final peck against his lips. you lean in closer, nuzzling your face into the crook of sieun’s neck. you press a chaste kiss against the exposed skin of his neck as you let out a small content sigh, finally letting your eyes flutter closed as you begin to fall asleep. “i love you,” you whisper.

sieun presses a kiss against your forehead. “i love you too.”

⋆｡°✩ general dating hcs

— not a huge fan of pda. he doesn’t like the attention and would rather keep your moments together private

— not very touchy but he likes when you hold his hand/intertwine your arms together (especially if it’s an unconscious thing)

— SO PROTECTIVE. sieun is 100% willing to throw himself between you and any bullies 

— his kisses are short and sweet. kiss him as a reward for a good grade or reassurance and his face will light up

— sometimes if he’s feeling extra confident he’ll kiss you in public

— has moments of insecurity pretty often. siuen was neglected as a kid and bullied as a teenager. he needs to know that you love and care about him for him and not out of sympathy

— he needs reminders to eat/sleep/drink water. falls a little more in love every time you do little things for him

— his love languages are quality time/acts of service. quietly studying together until you get up to make him some food as he reviews your notes for you are some of his fav moments with you

— gets clingy when he’s tired. pull him away from his studying, help him wash up, kiss his forehead, and pull him into your arms and he will MELT

— also pls pls pls play with his hair he’ll fall asleep immediately

#yeon sieun x reader #yeon sieun x male reader #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class x male reader #yeon sieun imagine #yeon sieun fluff #yeon sieun one shot #yeon sieun scenario #yeon sieun drabble #weak hero class imagine #weak hero class one shot #weak hero class scenario #weak hero class drabble #yeon sieun hcs #yeon sieun headcannons #weak hero class 1 fic #weak hero class hcs #weak hero class headcannons #sieun x reader #sieun x male reader #how do i tag this help #kdrama x male reader #kdrama x reader #park jihoon x reader #park jihoon x male reader #male reader #gn reader #fem reader

[mins-fins]

polaroid love — choi hyunwook

hyunwook is super supportive of his boyfriend, so supportive that he shows up to congratulate him at one of his comeback stages.

tags :: choi hyunwook x m!reader , reader is an enhypen member , reader is an 02 liner , hyunwook is whipped , established relationship , they’re cheesy

“i’m dying guys”.

yang jungwon laughs, patting his hyung on the back. “you’ll be okay, hyung, we still have five more stages to go” he laughs at the groan he receives from the older male.

“yeah, amazing” he rolls his eyes, sitting down beside a laughing sunghoon. the older male only groans again, his mind racing with how little sleep he’ll probably be getting that night.

he rests his chin on his hand, his mind focused on something else, a certain someone to say the least. he taps his finger onto his thigh, listening to the chatter of his fellow members.

“did you guys watch twenty five twenty one? the drama was so good!”

upon hearing the drama name, the l/n looks up, though he quickly looks down as to not make it obvious that he was intrigued.

“i’m very interested by choi hyunwook, he did so well with his role”.

y/n feels his heart leap out of his chest, but he manages to keep himself sitting still, continuing to tap his finger onto his thigh.

he gets a nudge from sunoo, making him finally look up. “hm?” the 03 liner points towards the door, where the manager was standing, y/n tilts his head in confusion, but makes an 'o' shape with his mouth when he gestures him over.

“oh” he says. “i’ll be back” sunoo waves his hand dismissively, just smiling.

y/n knew he’d tell the other members anyway, he walks with the manager and looks over at him with confusion. “what is this for?”

the manager doesn’t stop walking. “someone’s here for you, he’s visiting”.

someone’s visiting me? who—

oh.

“hyunwook”.

oh.

“hi” the older breathes, and y/n feels his legs about to give in. hyunwook laughs at the look of shock which remains on his face. he reached over and pinches his cheek, finally earning a reaction from him.

“hyunwook, what— what are you doing here?” he finally asks, his mouth feels as if it’s gone dry, but he still manages to get out the words.

hyunwook chuckled. “i’m being supportive, and i wanted to go all out for you”.

y/n resists the urge to punch his pretty ass face.

“you always go all out for me”.

“and i have no regrets”.

y/n unknowingly smiles, his face becoming a deep shade of red. god, how did he get as lucky as to have choi hyunwook as his boyfriend? he couldn’t have been more grateful for him.

he leans back on his heels, clasping his hands together. “well, thank you” he whispers, his hands now moving to take hyunwook’s.

he always like how his hands felt when he held them, and it was even better when hyunwook gave him a wider smile, caressing his hand. “i just wanted to see my pretty boyfriend”.

y/n snorts. “i’m the one who should be calling you pretty”.

“really?”

“yeah, cause you are”.

“no, you are”.

“are you sure?”

“more than sure”.

god their cheesy, so cheesy, but they’re cute as well. you can’t help but look at them and coo at how cute of a couple they are, staring at each other as if their the only people in the world, it’s enough to make someone jealous.

hyunwook looks up, smiling. “ah, i actually got you something” he lets go of his partners hand for a sheer moment, and y/n stares, almost jumping up in his position.

“here”.

“oh my god..” a bouquet of flowers, exactly what y/n needed for motivation. “i love it, it’s basic, but i love it”.

hyunwook pouts, his eyes glowing as if he was a little kid. “i picked those flowers myself, they’re your favorite colors”.

“i noticed” y/n’s smile grows wider. he can conclude that he is utterly in love with choi hyunwook.

yes, flowers might’ve been basic, but he loved them, he would cherish them. he didn’t care if he’d be questioned by the members, he was just insanely grateful to be receiving such a gift.

“thank you” he doesn’t think as he pulls his boyfriend into a tight hug. his arms wrap around his neck and he laid his head onto his shoulder. “seriously, i love you”.

hyunwook smiles like an idiot, his cheeks a shade of red. “i love you too”.

y/n pulls away, smiling. he places a kiss on hyunwook’s cheek, and the males face goes an even deeper shade of red.

“i should go now” he says, smiling. hyunwook only then realizes that they’re backstage of one of enhypen’s comeback stages.

“oh— right, yeah! you should” y/n laughs at the way his words were jumbled together. “you’re so cute, hyun”.

“don’t try to flatter me”.

y/n just kisses him again, still holding the bouquet of flowers. “i’ll call you later”.

hyunwook nods, sending his boyfriend a flying kiss before giving him one last wave and walking away. “i love you”.

“i love you more”.

y/n is smiling like an idiot all the way back to the room where the rest of the enhypen members are waiting, he stares down at the bouquet, the feeling of love circulating in his veins.

“flowers? who gave you flowers?”

the 02 liner looks up, tilting his head at ni-ki. he just smiles, looking back down at the flowers. he shrugs, earning sounds of confusion from the rest of the enhypen members.

“someone”.

“someone? someone who?” heeseung asks. “are they from an admirer?”

y/n just smiles, rocking back and forth on his heels. “i guess you could say that”.

the enhypen members are confused for the rest of the day.

AUTHORS NOTE — guys i’m totally in love with choi hyunwook like i’m obsessed with him!! also i know i said i’d write more jiwoong angst but i just had the urge and the urge took over

#choi hyun wook #enhypen #kpop #hyunwook x reader #choi hyun wook x reader #fluff #male reader #twenty five twenty one #weak hero class 1

[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.

#bjnet #the boyz #eric sohn #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #eric sohn fluff #eric fluff #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #tbz scenario #tbz fic #the boyz scenario #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #sohn youngjae #youngjae x reader

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

Anyone character u want x punk delinquent male reader tall af loads of piercings and wild hair🫦🫦

WHAT ARE WE TALKING ABOUTTTT

what are we talking about 😩🫦

I'm gonna have fun with this yall

Also this is giving me MAJOR Asuka Langley introspection vibes rn from evangelion.

Namsmnxnd y'all rlly gave me creative freedom so i took that bitch and RAN anskbsnsbx

This is literally a random fanfic idk why I decided to make it literally the most emotional wreck of a group of words to have ever existed.

Masterlist <3

Izuku x Male!Reader - Delinquent

This feeling started during the UA Sports Festival.

You had been plotting to take the spot of one of the 1-A students this year and secure your future as a hero, much like Hitoshi Shinsou. Except, you picked Izuku out of everyone there to prey upon because he looked the kindest. He looked the weakest.

He had those big, green doe eyes like that of a baby deerling, and it made you irrationally angry.

You had so much hatred for the world around you. Your childish wish to 'become the best' and 'save everyone' faded over time, and the only reason you wanted to rise to the top at this point was spite.

Growing up, noone had cheered you on, or encouraged you to persue your interests. You were told that it's better to stick to what you know, and that dreams of the future were destined to be just that. Just dreams.

Over time, you had lost interest in persuing hobbies, or making friends, and had grown to be jealous of all of the kids around you that had what you couldn't get. It was a sinking, lonely feeling, that kept an iron grip on your heart.

It's not like you had some tragic backstory. You were just neglected, like a whole fucking lot of other kids out there. It just affected you in a slightly different way. It had made you bitter.

When you had gotten into UA High, that was when the imposter syndrome really hit. That must've been what drew you to Shinsou, one of your closest and first friends.

Once again, you were bitter about being put in some second rate class and pushed aside. It's like the world was purposely trying to tell you over and over again, that you're nothing special. You're replaceable at best. It had you absolutely livid.

So, naturally, you displaced your anger onto an unsuspecting target, Izuku Midoriya.

You took note of all of his weaknesses and his interests, and during the last stage, when the two of you were paired up for an individual battle, you tried your absolute best to crush his spirit.

You were jealous that he was so happy. That he was so completely perfect. He had a happy childhood and a strong quirk, and so, so many friends he could surround himself with. He had hobbies, and interests, and he was so fucking special that All Might himself was picking favourites. Oh yeah, you noticed that. It only fuelled your spite and hatred.

Underneath all of the brooding looks and big talk was just a little kid, throwing a tantrum at the world because "It's not fair! Why didn't I get what he did?! Why don't real heroes think I'm strong? Why didn't I get parents who love me?! He has friends, he has hobbies, he has dreams! Everything they said I couldn't have, he has in abundance!! Why not me?!!"

Recovery Girl would say something about needing to 'heal your inner child' or whatever the hell that means.

You tried so hard to crush Izuku, and if he were anyone else, it would've worked. You had learned from the best after all, how to crush a person's spirit. But no, apparently, he was special.

Every time you insulted him or told him harsh truths about every one of his dreams and interests, reciting things your parents had told you, he winced, and you couldn't tell why you hated to see it.

You spilled you heart to this boy unknowingly, your fight being a screaming match that noone but the two of you could hear over the clash of earth and Izuku's strength. You had sent boulder after boulder at him, moving the ground beneath him and wearing him down as much as you could, but he refused to give up, and your body started to tire.

'Oh. So that's why he's special. He's just not like me.'

Those were your thoughts as you were knocked to the floor, the world spinning around you as time seemed to slow to a stop.

He didn't give up when things got rough. But you did. You lay on the floor, taking in the sight of the clear blue sky, so close but so far away, the stands full with cheering onlookers disappearing into the background. It's all just white noise now.

You're absolutely gutted at the loss, and the only spirit left crushed was yours, while Izuku was filled with more resolve than ever.

He was just fundamentally better than you, then.

But that's not fair...

Your face was caked in sweat and blood and most definitely tears as you layed on the floor, barely conscious after Izuku's last attack. Your piercings, which had been a result of your boredom while fucking around with a needle, were literally pissing with blood, and your head was swimming in the pain that encompassed your body.

You barely even noticed when the mossy-headed boy had picked you up, carrying you to the infirmary bridal style.

What you said during your fight had struck a chord in his heart, like it had been plucked straight out, not because you had insulted besically everything he had ever loved or associated with, but because he could perfectly translate what you were saying into what you really felt now that he looked back on it.

You were just so angry, and scared and alone. He wanted to stay by your side. He wasn't pitying you. He was just trying to make friends with the guy who'd almost beaten him during their matchup.

That's what made you hesitantly accept his proposal of friendship when you had next awoken, though you gave him no shortage of side-eye.

Over the course of the next few years, the two of you had actually became real friends, best friends, and you had realised that the feelings you were developing towards him were a little more than just friendly. He had shown you what it was like to actually enjoy things, and have meaningful conversation, and he had helped you make more friends. You had fallen head over heels for him.

Because of him, you were doing better in your classes, and had actually started attending them again. You were picking less fights with random classmates. You had even started to study for written tests, instead of just leaving them blank. Izuku was, and is still so proud of you.

He had treated you like you were an equal, and you had let him into your fragile little heart. Now you were in love.

You had kept it a secret though. Izuku couldn't know that you were in love with him. You had no doubt in your mind that Izuku wouldn't treat anyone differently for being gay, but that's not what you were worried about. You just couldn't handle rejection. Your entire childhood and the years you spent craving acceptance proved that. But you were weak for the moss-top.

Everytime he would bat his eyes at you, or give you that world ending grin that literally set fire to every negative emotion you've ever felt in your life, your heart stuttered. He gave everything meaning.

So when you and Izuku sat in his room and he was once again studying the five piercings on your face, one on each side of your nose, your septum, your bridge, and one little stud at the corner of your lip, you learned in close to plant a kiss to his lips, which were so close to yours that you couldn't help yourself. You were a second away from dreading your fatal mistake until you felt him lean closer, not pulling away or recoiling from you.

The kiss deepened as you let a whimper slip past your lips, which he eagerly swallowed, taking charge of the kiss and pushing you down on the mattress so gently.

That was how you ended up where you are now, naked and writhing under a sweaty, breathless greenette who slowly grinds his hips to meet yours.

He moans as you buck your hips up, pushing him further inside of you as his cheeks flush and he pulls you close. Izuku holds you as you mewl and shiver, kissing you gently and making sure you're okay.

Once you're fully adjusted to the feeling of the intrusion you whine and claw at his back, being oversensitive as he pushes in and out again and again, chasing the pleasure that your wet warmth gives him.

"God- It feels so good- t-to finally get to do this with you... Hah- I love you~"

If someone had told you in the past that you would cry when losing your virginity to Izuku Midoriya, you would've laughed and probably beat the messenger half to death, but now here you are, sniffling and crying into Izuku's neck as he chuckles and runs a soft, but strong hand through your hair.

"I- I love you- Izuku!- Please-!"

Your moans fill the quiet of the room, the only other sounds being Izuku's soft breathing and the rain outside the window, while you and your lover interlock your hands and become one.

He reaches down to stroke your neglected skin, your back arching and drool running down your chin. Your thighs shake and this idiot chuckles again, letting himself move his pelvis a little harder and faster, his abs flexing and rippling with each little movement and reducing you to a little melted puddle in his firm embrace.

Oh, he knows exactly where your prostate is, and he's just teasing you at this point, but you don't even get the chance to huff in annoyance before he suddenly changes his mind, his thrusts becoming more intense and his heart set on bullying the little button inside of you.

He gets exactly what he wanted when you sob and release a steady stream of cum that doesn't shoot, but leaks from you and rolls down your length pitifully, tears running down your face while he reaches his own orgasm deep inside of you. His abdomen twitches and he groans so needily, pulling you closer by the waist in a way that has your eyes rolling back, feeling his hot seed filling every crevice inside of you.

God, he is special. He's everything.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #mha fluff #izuku midoryia x you #izuku headcanons #izuku imagine #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x male reader #izuku x m!reader #izuku x you #izuku x y/n #mha scenarios #mha smut #mha imagines #izuku smut #izuku x reader smut #bnha imagines #bnha smut #bnha headcannons #mha headcanons #mha fanfiction

[gh0stchoir]

Reader comforting Monoma when his mind wanders to dark places. For all he gloats that he's the best, his quirk is just copying someone else's and their techniques. Is the praise he hears and got in the past truly for him, or secretly for someone else? Whenever this happens, Reader let's Monoma cuddle him and reassures that they will always love him for who he is, not for what anyone else is. I'll leave it to you if the love is romantic or platonic.

“You're not your quirk.”

Neito Monoma x male reader

Warnings: intrusive thoughts, possibly triggering to some. Not proofread

A/n: HES SO FJRJDBSKEJ WHY DONT PPL LIKE HIM I GET HES ANNOYING BUT HES A PRETTY DUMB BOY

Masterlist

⚠️Female aligned= DNI or you will be blocked. (She/her, she/they, etc.)⚠️

Neito Monoma. Student at UA High, class 1-B. Most people knew of Monoma, knowing how much of a self centered gloater he was, his fault of course. Most would agree they didn’t like the blonde one bit. Mostly from him being blatantly annoying and always yelling about how he’s better than everyone, especially class 1-A. Everyone knew to ignore him and let Kendo deal with him, his threats and useless arguments going no where. It's all he did. All he knew to do to keep up his own sham of what he called 'pride'. At the end of the day, it felt like he just screamed the insults at a mirror, directed at the person he hated the most. Himself.

It was another long boring day at UA, students finally being able to relax from the day. Dorms and common rooms were seemingly quieter, especially class 1-B’s. No one had seen Monoma in the common room, and when they went to check if he was in his dorm, the door was closed and no one answered. They just assumed he was sleeping, too exhausted to continue to be a nuisance after a long day. Like he typically was, how everyone was used to. He hadn't been asleep though. Far from it. He was curled on his bed, trying to be as quiet as possible as he cried his eyes out. They were burning from how much he'd been crying, his body aching in pain from how badly he'd been shaking. His eyes were screwed shut, needing to not see the world he was so familiar with suddenly feel not real and blurry. Intrusive thoughts began flooding his mind, screaming and laughing at him, reminding him that he's nothing but a useless joke. A joke that benefits from everyone else around him. He pleaded for the loud voices to stop, which only egged them on to get louder and louder.

‘You amount to nothing, Monoma.’

‘All you do is copy other people’s quirks, then yell at them for being weak!'

‘You’ll never become what everyone else you copy from will.’

‘This is why no one loves you. You’re a selfish prick.’

‘You’re so unoriginal. It’s sad!'

He shook his head, hitting it half-heartedly to try and make it all stop. He didn't want his stupid useless ego. He didn't want everyone to hate him. He didn't want his frowned upon gift. He didn’t like it, the voices reminding him things he didn’t want to hear, things he feared. The same things he'd gotten told all his life. The things he always tried to repress down deep inside, locked away and open to no one. The things that haunted him everywhere he went. He knew that people didn’t like him or get along with him. He knew people saw him as this low life that copies other peoples quirks, too prideful to say he's any less than they are. He couldn’t just accept it though. He had to keep up this front runner of being a prideful douchebag. This facade he had put up that made him look so very very confident. But Monoma wasn’t confident at all. Far from it. He was terrified of people seeing him like this. Sobbing, curled up in a ball, with only his thoughts to fill the long silent void. If everyone saw him like this, they would call him weak, not a true hero. Just a scared and weak little boy. Like he really was.

“Sweetheart, hey hey look at me..” Neito snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to see you standing next to him with a frown as you set down his backpack. You had a deeply concerned look, your eyes dropped with evident bags under them. Were you tired because of dealing with him all the time? Was it his fault you didn’t have that much energy? Was he being too much for you? Holding you back from everything? “Bad thoughts again?” You interrupted Monoma's thoughts, reminding him he wasn’t alone. He nodded instinctively, like a trained puppy. He wouldn’t lie to you. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could lie to you. You sighed and sat down on the bed, crawling to the side and pulling Neito close. The two of you sat in silence for a minute or two, just to embrace the other.

“You know I love you right, my prince?” You asked. Monoma sniffed and closed his eyes. "You-you shouldn't.." You frowned and cupped the blondes cheeks, wiping away a tear. “How so?” You noticed Monoma didn’t spare a glance at you. Not that he didn’t want to look at you, but he was too afraid to. He hated looking people in the eye, even more when he was in such a vulnerable state as he was now. “Because, I'm nothing but a pain to have to deal with daily, just annoying and completely usele-”

“Monoma, do not finish that sentence.” You interrupted sternly, kissing his forehead softly. “You are nowhere near a pain to deal with. Nor are you useless. Do you know how amazing of a person you are? You fill in any place you go to with light and happiness, even when you're acting a fool.” You offered a reassuring smile, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Monoma curled against you more, crying harder. You always knew the exact words to his heart. It was like he was a book, and you had read the book countless times, too invested with the story to set aside. “All my life I just copy people and their quirks. I’m a complete asshole and I-I don’t know why I act like it..” He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip. “It’s why everyone hates me- I’m nothing but a piece of shit.”

You frowned and held Monoma tighter, letting his crying calm down until he was breathing normally and no more tears streamed down his cheeks. “You know, I want you to know that nobody hates you. If they do, then what are they compared to my beautiful boy here? You are so so strong, so very strong. You accept the comments and keep on going. You know how many people wish they could do that?” Neito sniffled and glanced up at you, seeing a soft smile on your face. That damn smile, that perfect smile that gave him so much motivation. The one he got warm inside just from seeing it. He loved your smile so much, wanting to see it every second of every day. "I’m sorry for all of this- I shouldn’t of dragged you into my problems..” He mumbled. You sighed and shook your head. 

“You didn’t drag me into anything Neito. I’m glad to be here to help talk to you and make sure those intrusive thoughts don’t come in. I’m your boyfriend, I love you. And I’d do anything to see you smiling and genuinely happy.” You spoke with a smile. Monoma bit his lip and rested his head in the crook of your neck, trying his best to not breakdown again. How did he deserve to have you? When his mind went into those dark places, you was always there to bring him back into the light. It felt like you were his only cure. You were the only one to make him actually feel good about something he did, and made him feel at least a little bit better about himself.

“Thank you..so much. I don’t think I say it enough.” Monoma wiped at the dried tears on his red cheeks with his sleeves. You watched him with a raised brow. “I understand you’re thankful without you needing to say it. You convey it to me on the daily dear.” You giggled into your hand. “....Really?”

You happily nodded. “Yup! You always cuddle with me and say you love me, repeating it like a parrot, it's cute. You also take time to find me to eat with me, and make sure I’m happy and have company.” You explained, thinking back to all the times in a day Monoma would go out of his way to make sure you were alright. All you wanted was for him to feel the same way. For him to believe that he deserved you, that he was the only person that ever deserved you.“Well of course I’d do those things, I love you and want to see you..” Neito muttered out. You smiled and kissed his nose, grabbing his hands and intertwining your fingers together. “That’s the same reason why I try to make you happy. Because I love you, if only you’d get that through your thick skull.” You joked, giving a gentle squeeze to Monoma’s hands. He let out a small laugh, looking into your eyes and admiring the way the lamp next to his bed glistened in your eyes. The orange hue, followed by the lighting of the setting sun coming from the window, made you looked like an angel that descended from above. You were an angel to him, his angel, the one that kept him sane.

"I love you, so much.. fuck how do I deserve you." Neito squeezed his eyes shut, holding you closer to him. You let out a sad hum. "Well, because I love you and no one else." You grabbed his face, gently holding his cheeks and smiling at him. "You're my boy, and I'm yours. And if it makes you feel better, maybe one day I'll have Monoma as my last name also." You giggle as his cheeks visibly redden, his eyes widening. You'd often thought about the future with Neito, including that of marriage. You wanted to be with him forever, no matter what. "You..you want to marry me-?" He asked, doubt in his tone. You enthusiastically nod and kiss his forehead. "Certainly! Who wouldn't marry the love of their life?" You giggle out as Monoma hugged you tighter and began littering your face in kisses. Goddamn he loves you.

#x male reader #mha x male reader #bnha x male reader #my hero academia x male reader #neito monoma x male reader #monoma x male reader #neito x male reader #Monoma neito x male reader #female aligned dni #women dni

[lmeskitz]

Masterlist!

****************************************************

This is a place where you can find all my stories! Thanks so much for all the support! <3

Find my rules for requesting here

****************************************************

Miraculous Ladybug

Oneshots-

Chat Noir x Ftm!Reader (pms cramps)

Adrien Agreste x deaf! reader (male)

Headcannons-

Nothing yet!

Marvel

Oneshots-

Peter Parker x sick! reader (male)

Headcannons-

Peter Parker with a neko s/o headcannons

My hero Academia

Oneshots-

Rubber Ducks (Tododeku)

You’re not weak- Bakugou x neko! reader (male)

Class Interruption- Dadzawa x gn reader (crackfic)

Dadzawa x male! Student! Reader (PLATONIC)

Dadzawa x Ftm reader PLATONIC

Dadzawa x male! Student! reader PLATONIC (kinda angsty)

Headcannons-

Nothing yet!

Sk8 The Infinity

Oneshots-

Nothing yet!

Headcannons-

Nothing yet!

HxH

Oneshots-

Killua Zoldyck’s Reunion with his Unofficial Older Brother Reader

Headcannons-

Nothing yet!

****************************************************

Thank you so much for all your support! I am so grateful that everyone loves my stories, and I have such a fun time writing them!

As always, my requests are open so feel free to request! I love having ideas on what to write!

I hope you all have a fantabulous day, and peace out my dudes. ✌️

#marvel #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #hxh #x male reader #masterlist #demon slayer #sk8 the infinity #rise of the guardians #miraculous ladybug #mha bakugou #mha x male reader #bnha #bnha x male reader #mha

[just-my-fandom]

Heartache (Shouta Aizawa x Pro-Hero! Reader)

A/N: Ooo-kay, finally back from my month long, needed break from writing. I’m kinda attached to MHA at the moment, so that is what I am taking requests for.

Summary; The two times where two of UAs teachers nearly lose their lives to protect their students, mindful of the child they have at home.

Request; Can we have some pro hero love where reader (pro hero) and Mr. Aizawa have a daughter and Thirteen who is readers best friend is said daughters god mom while Present Mic is the god dad plz

Akari- Japanese name meaning “Light”. Readers quirk is the ability to send large waves of energy a selective distance, and shield herself with said energy.

Two months prior- U.A.

“Alright, everyone,”

Shouta Aizawa seemed well too calm this early morning. Too calm despite the fact that he is holding a child on his hip, who looked all too like him.

“Today’s lesson is simple. Based on communication,” He starts, “Communication when it comes to citizens. This lesson will teach you how to comfort an injured or scared citizen during an attack, specifically women and children,”

“Uh, Mr. Aizawa?” Denki Kaminari was first to speak up, hand half raised in confusion, “Why do you have a baby?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mina leans forward, eyes wide and gleaming happily, “That’s Mr. Aizawas and Neutron Shields baby! She looks just like him,”

“Lets not jump to conclusions,” Shouta hums, but the barely visible smirk on his lips lets his class know that the toddler is, indeed, his own, “I brought Akari here today for the lesson that will be taught. You will all need to learn and know how to comfort a child during an attack if the child has been separated from its parents,”

“Only, however,” Shoutas eyebrow raise causes his students to watch as his daughter leaned against his shoulder and glanced outward to the class, “Akari does have a quirk. It is similar to her mother’s, as Mina predicted, Neutron Shields. Meaning if she were to get defensive, you would have to calm the child from harming herself more, or you,”

“So we’re fighting a little brat,” Bakugou mumbles, rolling his eyes so when he looked back up to his teacher, said mans hair had raised and his eyes glowed red,

“Insult my daughter again,” Shouta threatens, instantly dropping his intimidating act when Akaris hand reaches up to pat his face. With a deep sigh, Shouta looks away from his daughter to his students, “No. Youre not fighting her. Simply consult her into comfort so she knows you’re not a threat. Akaris been taught how to control her quirk on demand,”

Lowering the toddler onto the floor, Shouta steps back as soon as his daughter began to tear up, twisting to reach for her father with quiet sniffles.

“Well?” Shouta eyes the students, when Akari hiccups and looks back to the teenagers, “She’s distressed,”

“I got this,” Kirishima is first to push out of his desk, hands out and steps slow as he approached the child, “Hey, Akari, it’s okay,”

Akari is swift to shake her head and twist her upper body away from the red head. On cue, a purple bubble surrounds herself, Bakugous brows pinching as Dekis mouth dropped, hand reaching over to pat Todorokis shoulder in amazement.

The bubble then expands to hit Kirishima and throw him off his feet, landing hard on his back so Akari blinked and giggled, loudly, the bubble then vanishing.

“Me next!” Mina exclaims, Akaris eyes flicking from the red head and to the pink skinned girl, who knelt down next to Kirishima and opened-closed her hands.

Hesitantly, Akami leant forward onto her hands and knees, ready to crawl up to the girl, but instead blinked so a bubble formed around Mina, the bubble suddenly shrinking so Mina shrieked and pressed her hands to the sides in an attempt to stop the shied like bubble from crushing her.

“Akari,” Shouta speaks up, his daughter blinking so the bubble vanished, her eyes shifting to her father before looking back to the class, Mina exhaling in relief and backing away.

“Come on, shit for brains,” Bakugou scoffs, standing to his feet so Akari stared at him, “We’ve trained with Neutron Shield before. The brats no different,”

“Akari is a child,” Todoroki reminds, on his own feet and stepping forward so Akari instantly reached up, the fire and ice powered male pausing to stare at her.

Her whine when he makes no move to pick her up causes him to do so, Shouta smirking as Akari stared at Bakugou and stuck her thumb into her mouth.

“It seems she has a favorite,”

USJ Training Facility

You weren’t sure what happened. As soon as you were in line of view, two of Shoutas students- Uraraka and Ashido- immediately began to panic from where they knelt down next to Thirteens collapsed figure.

“Mrs. Aizawa!” Mina cries, tears in her eyes as her hand rests on Thirteens shoulder, “Thirteen- she took a hit-!”

You are quick to move next to Ochaco, hand opposite of Minas so Thirteens head turned and her eyes weakly looked up at you,

“Thirteen,” You call, softly, “Hey. It’s okay,”

“I tried to protect them,” Thirteen murmurs, and you nod, sliding your arms beneath hers to heave her to her feet, Mina and Ochaco quick to stick their hands out in case she fell,

“You did,” You promise, “You did amazing, Thirteen,” Your eyes flick to the class, “Where’s Iida?”

“Getting help,” Mina heaves, shakily, “What- what’s going to happen to Thirteen?”

“Shes going to be okay,” You reassure, and shift Thirteens arm around your shoulders so she fell slump against your side, “I’m going to make sure of that,” Your eyes shift to your best friend, “Do you hear me, Thirteen? Akari needs her godmother in her life,”

“I’ll always be here for that angel,” Thirteen breathily laughs, watching as you looked over in alarm at the sounds of fighting, “Eraserhead. He stayed behind,”

“He can hold his own,” You murmur, but the doubt in your tone causes Thirteen to grasp the back of your suit,

“Go help him,” Thirteen demands, extending her free hand for Mina to drape at her shoulders, “I’ll be fine,”

You hesitantly peel away from the pro-hero, glancing between her and where the fighting could be heard, before you sprint down the steps, looking up in time to see Noumu, Shigarakis weapon, on top of your collapsed husband.

“Hey!” You call, raising your hands so a bubble surrounded you, expanding in a rush to hit Noumu so he stumbled off his feet, a good distance away from Shoutas figure.

Protect him. Protect him now.

With quick steps, you throw out a hand that forms a bright (Favorite/Color) bubble, which you slide under and next to Shoutas collapsed form so the bubble shielded both you and him.

“I always wondered when I would get to fight the famous Eraserhead and Neutron Shield at once,” Shigaraki speaks, your eyes shifting over your shoulder where he stood at one end of your bubble, while Noumu stood opposite of his leader,

“But defeating them both?” Shigaraki chuckles, “A dream come true,”

The first punch Noumu sends against your bubble creates severe damage to your shield. It cracks beneath his fist, giving the monster the confidence he needs to continue punching and clawing at the barrier,

“Mrs. Aizawa can’t take them both- not on her own,” Midoryia heaves from his spot in the water, where he, Mineta, and Asui hid a good distance from the battle.

“She has shields!” Mineta reminds, shivering in a panic, “She’ll be fine!”

“Ribbit, her bubble can only take a certain amount of damage before it breaks,” Asui states, “And the damage her shields take, her body takes,”

Where’s All Might when you need him?

With a weak breath, you slide your hand beneath Shoutas head, resting it in your lap as your muscles screamed for you to drop your shields.

“Honey,” You call, pleadingly, free hand resting over Shoutas chest- thankful to feel a heartbeat, “Baby, wake up. Please,”

Looking up, you watch as the top of your bubble cracks and shrivels in defeat, Noumu stepping back enough for the shield to drop and leave not only you, but now Shouta, vulnerable.

With a startled gasp, you raise your hand as Noumu then lunged at you, the shield only protecting your face, so the punch Noumu sends forces you feet back, tumbling backwards and onto your front, leaving Shouta out in the open yet again.

Fingernails grabbing at dirt, you moan out in pain, forcing your arms to push you to sit up, raising your head in time for Noumus claws to latch at your shoulders, shoving you onto your back, his weight forcing you to gasp for air at the pressure of him on your chest,

Raising a hand that clawed at his arm, you are quick to throw a shied, the edge slicing Noumus face so he only jerked back then growled down at you.

With wide eyes, you look over to Shoutas form, then up, at a distanced- “I am here!”

Noumus weight lifts as he departs, your lungs expanding as you gasped, coughing as you sit up, slowly moving up to Shoutas form.

“Help me get him up,” You demand, when Tsuyu and Mineta rush next to you, “Please,”

“Mrs. Aizawa- you’re bleeding!” Mineta stammers, your hand raising to your mouth where blood dripped.

Shaking your head, you allow All Might to take your hand and help you stand, “I’m not worried about me. Get him out of here,”

Camp Attack

Why were you struggling so hard to fight a girl with a knife? Maybe it was because you just couldn’t stomach the thought that your students- your husband were still somewhere in these woods, being attacked by someone else.

Your breaths are shallow by the time you pull yourself from your thoughts. With a hand grasping Togas wrist that held the knife, your eyes wildly search behind you, landing on two of your students,

“Asui, Uraraka, go,” You heave, grunting when Toga shoves at your front, “Go, now!”

Uraraka gasps in fear when Togas foot skillfully hooks around your ankle, jerking so you fell on your back with a pained grunt. Toga is quick to pin over top of you, knife held against the skin of your neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a pro-hero?” Toga grins, voice high as you narrow your eyes and suck in a deep breath through the nose, “You’ve gotten weak after having that stupid baby of yours,”

“Do not ever mention my child,” You heave, raising a hand so a shield formed, that instantly vanished when Togas knife slid across your neck, startling you to gasp in quick breaths,

“Mrs. Aizawa!” The two students shriek, your eyes pinching shut as you form a small bubble around you, successfully pushing Toga off of you so you could sit up and cough, hand covered in dark red blood.

You look over and form a bubble around Asui and Uraraka, looking back up at Toga when she giggles, dragging the blood covered knife across the bubble,

“You think a small bubble can stop me from getting what I want?” With a quick jab, the knife plunges into the bubble so you flinched and raised a hand to your neck.

Vision blurry, you blink, the bubble shattering so Toga giggled and lunges forward, not before a tongue shoots out and wraps around her, tossing her to the side and into a tree nearby,

“Mrs. Aizawa!” Uraraka quickly moves next to you, eyes wide as she watches you slowly lower back onto the dirt in defeat, “Mrs. Aizawa, stay awake!” Uraraka looks to Asui, alarmed to find Toga gone, “Tsu, go get help!”

“Uraraka, Asui!” The two girls look over, to find a group- consisting of Midoryia, Todoroki, Bakugou, Shoji, and Tokoyami- rushing towards them, “Come on! We’re heading back to the Camp!”

“Our pace will be slower with two injuries,” Todoroki states, eyes flicking to Midoryia on Shojis back, before he moves to help lift you up, your arms around his and Urarakas shoulders, “We need to find Mr. Aizawa, first and foremost,”

“They said we can use our powers to defend ourselves, and now we have two injured, one being a teacher,” Shoji states, “So don’t let anyone stop you,”

Present

“You shouldn’t be moving around so much,”

You hum through a light laugh, lifting your head from where you rocked back and forth on your feet, your daughter curled against you.

“I’m not dying, Shouta. I’ll be fine,” You feel Akaris hand graze across the stitches at your neck, as you turn to face your husband.

“That’s nothing to joke about,” Shouta steps up, sliding his hands under Akaris arms to peel her away from you and against his own shoulder,

“Just thought I’d give a little pay back for the heart attack you gave me during the USJ incident,” You shrug, frowning at Shoutas glare, “Okay. Sorry. But honestly, honey, I’m okay. Recovery Girl said I should be fully healed by next week,”

“Until then you should be resting,” You roll your eyes at Shoutas statement, turning to then pluck a shirt from your pile of laundry to fold,

“Take your own advance, honey. You haven’t slept a full night in three weeks,” You turn, hand at your hip, “Why don’t we call Hizashi and let him take Akari for a day or two? Give us time to rest?”

“If you want another kid, just ask,” Shouta smirks, your lips parting as he moves around you, laying Akari in her own bed in the corner,

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,”

“Do I, though?” Shoutas hands rest at your hips, and you smile, hand at his jaw to pull his lips against yours.

“Seriously, though,” You hum, “Hizashi would love to see his god daughter. I promised Thirteen I’d help her with her own recovery,”

“I swear you love Thirteen more than me,”

“Oh, definitely. No questions asked,”

“Fine, go ask her for another kid,”

“Nah, I like my kids to have your attitude,”

“Oh, sure,”

“Really!”

#shouta aizawa x reader angst #shouta aizawa #Shouta Aizawa x reader #Shouta Aizawa one shot #Shouta Aizawa imagine #izuku mydoria #Shigaraki #noumu #all might #present mic #thirteen #uraraka #asui #toga #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #mha imagines

[thrndlngs]

three times shinsou misses the opportunity to kiss you + the one time he seized the moment.

── pairing, shinsou x fem!prohero!reader ── request: x times shinsou wants to kiss fem reader??? pLZ I NEED IT ── author’s note: this was super dope & cute to write. tysm for sending this in. i hope i did this justice and it wasn’t to out of character.  also reader has a water quirk & the two of you are in your early twenties.  ♡ 

i.

     "'toshi,” you whispered, chest against his as the two of you currently hid from the group of villains. your two agencies had partnered up in attempt to take down a new gang of villains who were transporting drugs from the city to the waters, the two of you were partnered because of how the two of you excelled in your respective agencies, shinsou was sent to aid in your patrols of the waters  ──  which is why the two of you are currently hiding in a storage closet on a ship. 

  “shut up.” you don’t take it to heart, you’re sure he means it as nicely as possible - he just lacks a few pages in the ‘vocabulary’ department. 

  “we need to do something.” you tell him, trying your best to meet his gaze in the tight space (which was nearly impossible because he’s towering over you at the moment). he doesn’t reply, not at first at least, if you looked hard enough you would probably see the gears in his head turning. 

  “──stop talking, it’s distracting me.” 

  your mouth quickly shuts, fidgety hands are now at your side, you were starting to get antsy and there was practically little to no room to move around without being heard - or seen for that matter. 

  “they switch the guards every ten minutes, in the middle of the switch, we run.” the purple haired male explained, taking a peak at the time on his cellphone. the two of you had to endure this for three more minutes. just three more minutes and you would be free.

  “three minutes,” you repeated, more to confirm this for yourself. you’re sure you wouldn’t last that long, after all, this was shinsou, the male you’ve had a crush on for quite some time now. how were you expected to last that long?

  “──think of it like seven minutes of heaven.”

  “we haven’t played that since── “

  “yeah, yeah i know, but just think of it like that. don’t think about the closet, just the game.” 

  you nodded quickly, meeting his gaze as the two of you stood there in silence. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about kissing him. it seemed like the perfect moment - it was just the two of you. if it were the last day on earth, you at least wanted to go out with a bang. you know?

  “let me get comfortable, you can do the same after.” you watched as he places either hands besides your head, slouching a bit against the wall so his back could have some sort of support. he nods to you, signaling for you to do the same. 

  it takes you a moment, the position shinsou is currently in causes your heart to skip just a few beats. were you disappointed in yourself for letting your mind drift.. elsewhere during a mission? for sure. did you care right now? absolutely not.

  you cleared your throat, widening your stance and trying to balance the weight in between your legs to help ease some of the weight  ──  but there wasn’t really much you could do.

  “two minutes.” 

   this had to be the longest three minutes of your life.

   “i think i just tasted my own sweat.” he complained. it feels like he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t produce sweat in.

  “i feel like a fish out of water,” you added.

  “──gonna start passing out if i don’t throw you in the water soon?”

  “says the one whose sweating to death.” 

  “and you’re dehydrated. guess we’re both shit out of luck aren’t we?”

  “yeah, but, i think this isn’t the worst way to die.” 

  he takes another peak at his cellphone, noting that there’s a minute left before the two of you could finally get out of this damn storage closet. “you’ve got a minute to tell me anything worse than dying like this.” 

  in hindsight ── there’s a lot that could happen in a minute, that’s the only reason you said something to begin with. “alone, i could die in this closet, alone and then you know, it would be lonely.” 

 “are you serious?” 

  “oh come on! that’s pretty serious!”

  “it ── it really isn’t,” he’s trying to laugh as quietly as possible and you playfully slapped him in his shoulder. 

 “okay, well, i wouldn’t want to die alone.”

  “mhm, scaredy cat.” his smile is infectious and for a moment, he forgets that the two of you are stuck in a storage closet. maybe now would be the perfect time to kiss you, when it’s just the two of you, waiting to make your grand escape, when the two of your are just centimeters apart. 

  “now’s our chance,” he whispered, straightening himself to get out first just in case. he doesn’t want to act off of impulses. if he kisses you, he wants to make sure it’s because you want him too.

ii.

     “good to see you when you’re not acting like a goldfish who just hopped out of it’s bowl.” the familiar voice teased from behind you, hands folded behind his head. if it were anyone else, you might have tripped them.

  “──don’t you have to go buy hair dye now or something?”

  “no that was after i made sure a fisherman didn’t take you on the way home.”

  “is this what do you do on your spare time? think of jokes that revolve around my quirk?”  

  he rolls his shoulder lazily, leaning against the apartment railing across from your front door. “they come naturally, no extra thinking required.”

  “and here i thought all the hair dye went to your brain.”

   this wasn’t out of the norm for the two of you, he would make the first jab and then you would follow suit. sometimes, the bickering could go on for hours  ──  regardless of task at hand (like the time the two of you were trying to detain a villain and shinsou had told the woman you were a water sprite), it’s an old nickname of yours, he had given it to you back at the sports festival when you were kids. you had earned it when you had almost drown mineta because he wouldn’t stop making inappropriate jokes and you had brought the entire water fountain down on him. 

  as the two of you stood there in silence, you, had your back against your door, hands folded behind you while he stood parallel, arms against his chest he wonders: is this the time he kisses you goodnight? 

  “d’ya want to come inside? i have leftovers? we could pull an all nighter like we used to do back in the dorms?” there’s a hint of hopefulness in your eyes and he would feel like absolute shit if he declined the offer.

  “only because you have food.” 

  he doesn’t kiss you goodnight then. and he doesn’t kiss you goodnight when you fall asleep on his shoulder after the second horror movie either. if you were anyone else, he would’ve left without a care in the world, but it’s you and you are different. 

  so he stays and tells himself that tomorrow will be a new day and tomorrow, he can try again.

iii.

     “i don’t dance,” shinsou tells you as you so desperately tried to bring him onto the dance floor. it’s a hero’s gala, everyone from your respective classes at U.A. were here, pro heroes from all around the world and some of your old instructors as well  ──  these aren’t his thing, you know that. you remember his attitude during the first two hours of the third year’s ‘goodbye party’ - not much had changed. he’s taller, a bit more handsomer and smiles more often. 

  “you do tonight, come on.” while you had dragged him by one hand, the other desperately tried to loosen his tie because it feels like he’s suffocating. 

  “──you’ll be the death of me woman.” he’s mumbling under his breath, one hand resting in yours as the other found its place at your waist.

  “because i asked you to dance? might i say this is on your list of horrible ways to die?” you teased, offering him that infectious smile that makes him go weak in his knees. he hates to admit the pull you have on him  ──  he might even go as far as saying you might have him wrapped around that finger of yours and you don’t even know it yet.

  “if it’s by your hands i would say it’s a merciful death.”

  “a merciful death? i’ll keep that in mind.” 

  “don’t test your luck,” you know he’s only messing with you  ──  

  you’re to busy enjoying the moment to think of some witty comeback. it’s something about the way your hand seems to fit perfectly in his. or how the two of you are able to move in sync without any words spoken in between the two of you that’s driving you insane.

  if you would’ve told your past self that you would be slow dancing with the hitoshi shinsou at a hero’s gala while the world around you disappeared you would’ve laughed at the idea. it would’ve seem silly to you  ──  stupid even. shinsou and you weren’t rivals like you and bakugou were, but, you had always found yourself trying to one up him. 

  yet here you were, swaying to the slow tune as you managed to snake your arms around his midsection and rest a head against his chest. maybe this was his chance: with the little distance in between the two of you, dim lighting and dressed to the nines. surely, this would be a good memory to relive later down the road wouldn’t it? 

  but he wanted to savor the moment. so he decides it against it  ── despite the ache in his chest.

  iv.

     "we did it.” shinsou muses, an awkward hand offered in your direction for you to shake. it’s been six months but your agencies had finally shut down the smuggling operation and you could finally take the break you had so desperately needed. you weren’t sure what to do with the outstretched hand, but, you give in anyways, resting your hand in his as he gave it a firm shake.

  “pleasure doing business with you.” you tell him, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. teasing, bickering and ‘playful’ sparring aside, you were going to miss him. you were used to patrolling and doing missions on your own but this was different. 

  “try not to end up on the other side of fishing hook, yeah?” it’s his way of telling you to be careful in shinsou’s teasing nature.

  “make sure i’m the one to grant you the merciful death.” please be careful, is what you want to say. though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud - if you did, it would only confirm that you care about the purple haired pro hero more than you should. 

  he shakes his head with a laugh, “you’re the only one who gets the satisfaction.” 

  “it better stay that way ‘toshi.” 

  he doesn’t know for certain if your agencies would cross paths again. your agency was closer to the waters and he was closer in the city, the chance that you would run into one another again would be slim to none. 

 he clears his throat for a moment, retreating his hand from yours and placing them at your waist instead. he’s pictured this a thousand times but now that he’s in the moment he couldn’t manage to find the right words. it’s frustrating, really.

  “──hi.” you’re holding your breath in anticipation, was this another one of his games? was he going to kiss you? tell you a secret? use his capture weapon and tell you that he’s not letting you go until you admit something embarrassing?

  he doesn’t care anymore. doesn’t care if it makes him look like a love sick idiot when he kisses you like it’s the last thing he’s about to do before he dies, he doesn’t care if anyone’s watching or for the wrinkles you’ll cause since you’ve got a fistful of his shirt in a desperate attempt to close whatever little distance the two of you had between you. 

  you pull away first causing him to pout (which was actually cute but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that) but you do laugh.

  “you know,” he muses, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, a habit you hadn’t seen in years. “──i didn’t want to let you walk away without something to remember, my little water sprite.” 

  you rolled your eyes at the choice of nickname but were flattered nonetheless, your own arms finding their way around his neck, “who said i was walking away?”

#shinsou fluff #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #bnha imagine #bnha drabble #mha drabble #mha imagine #shinsou tbt. #( this is so lame bc i wrote this at 1:43 am while at work JHADKJHDA ) #╰ ♡ ✧ ˖ 𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐄 ┊ WRITINGS .

[niki-phoria]

Can you do a sieun x tall himbo male reader

Maybe where sieun is teaching reader a math problem but reader is distracted or where reader is clumsy all the time and bumps into doors bc of how tall he is?

pairing: sieun x male!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 635

includes: established relationship, kinda mixed these ideas together lol, reader is taller than sieun, wrote this over a few days and didn't proofread it so maybe not the most cohesive fic i've made lol

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :))

feedback is always appreciated <33

your eyes flutter closed as you lean your head down against your folded arms, zoning out the lecture from your math teacher in favour of getting a few more minutes of sleep. you can all but feel sieun’s eyes on you as his glare burns a hole into your head.

you startle awake when the bell rings, announcing the end of your class. you stifle a yawn as you quickly shove your books into your backpack before making your way over to sieun’s desk. you softly smile down at him as he tugs his own bag over his shoulders. 

“ready?” 

sieun simply nods, silently reaching over to take your hand into his. he subtly tugs you away from the side of the door before your shoulder hits the metal frame. 

you absentmindedly swing your intertwined hands as you follow sieun down the steps of the school and up to his apartment. “you really should pay attention in class,” he says as he momentarily lets go to unlock his front door. 

you let out a small hum in response. sieun watches as you kick your shoes off and slip your feet into a special pair of slides he had bought shortly after you started dating. “why would i? you’re my favourite teacher anyway.”

sieun’s face flushes slightly when you lean down to press a quick kiss against his forehead before you make yourself comfortable at his dining table. he sits across from you at the table as you pull out your textbooks and worksheets. 

hours pass by with nothing but the occasional noise of a page being flipped or sieun’s pencil scratching against his notebook. you lean back in your chair to stretch out your sore muscles. you flip through the last remaining pages filled with problems; a soft huff escapes you at the seemingly never ending list. 

you cover your face with your hand as yet another yawn escapes you. you rest your head against your hand; your tired eyes drifting from the pages of practice problems up to your boyfriend instead. your lips quirk into a soft smile as you observe each of his delicate features: his full cheeks; the way his eyes light up whenever he solves a new problem; his chapped lips and the way he occasionally bites them whenever he gets stuck.

sieun glances up at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows at the prolonged silence. “y/n?” he whispers. 

“hm?” 

“...did you hear me?”

“sorry,” you chuckle, shaking your head slightly. “i was distracted by seeing the most handsome boy i’ve ever seen in front of me.”

sieun’s face flushes a deep red. he lets out a nervous chuckle as he glances back down at his textbook to gather his composure before looking back up at you. “tired?”

“exhausted,” you hum. you rub the tiredness out of your eyes once again. 

sieun closes his notebook, reaching over to grab your hand as he stands up. “come on, then,” he says. you furrow your eyebrows slightly but follow him nonetheless, letting him guide you into his bedroom. 

inside is a small room with a bed sitting in the corner and a desk pushed up against the adjacent wall. various notes and passages have been taped up to the wall. sheer, white curtains delicately hang over the only window in the room. 

sieun guides you over to his bed to sit beside him. you silently follow his lead as you lay down beside him underneath the covers. you curl up beside his body as best as you can despite the small space, letting out a content sigh as he gently rubs a hand against your back to soothe you. “i love you, sieun,” you whisper.

he softly smiles before leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. “get some rest, y/n.”

#sieun x male reader #sieun x reader #yeon sieun x male reader #yeon sieun x reader #yeon sieun fluff #yeon sieun x you #yeon sieun x y/n #yeon sieun fanfic #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class x reader #weak hero class x male reader #weak hero class x you #weak hero class x y/n #weak hero class imagine #weak hero class one shot #weak hero class drabble #weak hero class scenario #yeon sieun imagine #yeon sieun one shot #yeon sieun drabble #yeon sieun scenario #male reader #kdrama x male reader #kdrama x reader

[mins-fins]

friends — yeon sieun

sieun’s fighting coach seems to like him.

tags :: yeon sieun x m!reader , reader is a professional fighter , sieun kinda has a crush on him tbh , he still doesn’t smile though

sieun grunts, falling to the floor. out of all the times his footing could’ve betrayed him, it just had to be now.

“ah, how many times have i beat you today?”

he raises his head up, glaring at the looming figure before him. the boy snorts. “i asked you a question, sieun-ah”.

sieun stays silent, swallowing. “five times”.

“exactly” the boy says, stretching out his hand for him to grab. sieun stares at his outstretched hand for a moment, grabbing it and standing up straight.

he keeps his hands on sieun's. y/n had always been interested by the boy and his knowledge in identifying how his surroundings could aid him in fights, but the thing with sieun was that he couldn’t properly fight, and that was bad since this guy was targeting him.

“let’s do something different” the l/n says, he holds up sieun’s hands, placing them into fists and keeping them still.

sieun watches his moves cautiously, and he can’t help but be so.. dazed by his eyes, which were seemingly glowing as he positioned the boys hands into a fighting stance.

“okay” he breathes, letting go of sieun’s hands. “push your first forward, sieun”.

sieun blinks, keeping his fists in the same exact position as he stared at the boy, confused. “you want me to punch you?”

y/n stares back, a chuckle escaping his lips. “yes and no, just push your fist forward”.

sieun stares, reluctantly pushing his fist forward with much more force than intended. y/n blocks his punch almost immediately, holding his fist.

“see? simple move” y/n says, placing his fist down as sieun dropped his arms on his sides.

y/n then raises his fists, eyes focused on sieun. “now let’s try again, but opposite this time”.

sieun stares, hesitance in his eyes. he knew there was no chance of y/n actually hurting him, but he didn’t want to risk the chance of being too slow and getting accidentally punched.

the l/n seems to read his mind, speaking up once again. “don’t worry, i’ll be careful not to hit you, i’ve done this before, remember?”

sieun takes in his words, before nodding. he takes a deep breath, looking to y/n, a look that confirmed he was ready.

smiling lightly, y/n pushes his fist forward in a punching motion, and sieun surprisingly catches his fist right before it makes contact with his face.

he stares with wide eyes, surprise present in his features. y/n stares back, a small smile gracing his features. “see? you did it”.

sieun’s normally neutral expression remains, though his eyes told a whole different story. they were full of admiration, and he couldn’t help but feel something in his stomach flutter at the feeling.

“well” y/n sighs, removing his first from sieun’s hand. “you did well today, sieun-ah, i’ll see you again next wednesday”.

sieun nods, still not smiling. “yeah, i’ll see you”.

oh, how he couldn’t wait.

#yeon si eun #weak hero class 1 #yeon si eun x male reader #park ji hoon

[mizunetzu]

Can I request a Iida x male reader with a skin problem? Like every time they finish training or after a stressful event the reader's skin would inch then they would scratch it, red blotches would appear on their chest, stomach, back. The reader insecure about them and hate their body, so in the locker room Denki points them out which they realize and start to become insecure and the itching becomes unbearable. They make an excuse then Iida becomes worried about his classmate then hears quiet cries in their door, Iida asks to come in then sees them curled up on their bed scratches their skin harshly which Iida quickly stops them. Iida confronts them and tries to comfort them.

🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰LOVE YOUR WRITING BYE THE WAY!!!!!!!!!!!

Aaaah thank you! This request was very fun, and I do love me some iida~ I feel bad for antagonizing kaminari once again in my fics tho 😅😅

——————

Iida x reader - Don’t Itch Your Neck

⚠️warnings - two (2) mentions of itch attacks, one in the beginning and one at the end (sorry, didn’t know the word for it) kaminari being insensitive to reader.

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

‘Please don’t compare me to a villain.’

It should be common sense. Why would you ever compare someone to something as wickedly as a villain? It’s rude and distasteful, and you’re practically saying they’re just as bad as illegal thugs and murderer.

But as (Y/n) mindlessly scratched the itch on his neck, a normal itch, not one caused by his skin condition, a villain who terrorized their school at USJ suddenly popped up on the news channel he was watching on his phone.

“-Villain known as Shigaraki Tomura, the alleged ring leader of the League of Villains, has last been seen atop of a high building.” His phone buzzed. He stopped writing answers onto his notebook, as well as unconsciously scratching harder at his neck while turning his attention to the news channel on his phone propped up on Iida’s bed.

Iida would come back any second, telling him to get back to studying, but hey, he’s doing something productive like watching the news, right? Watching news is productive, right? Apparently, it was a special on Shigaraki, and knowing more about villains as a future hero is good, right?

“Shigaraki is estimated to be in his 20’s, and he is commonly seen in disputes against U.A, especially first-year hero class 1-A.” Yep, that was them alright. The news castor continued.

“It is also estimated that Shigaraki has some sort of skin condition, or due to his quirk his skin seems to be very dead and brittle.” The screen cut to some surveillance footage zoomed in on Shigaraki, clawing at dry blotches covering his neck.

His scratched-up, blotchy neck looked uncannily similar to (Y/n’s), especially with the way he was scratching it while being confronted by heroes. It must’ve been caused by stress too. (Y/n’s) skin would burn under the pressure of stress, and he couldn’t help but scratch all over.

(Y/n’s) neck decided to flare up at the sight of Shigaraki. Does that mean he was similar to a villain? He had some sort of trait that was identifiable with a villain? One that attacked his school, no doubt? He scratched his neck harder, bringing up his other hand to scratch the other burning side. Does that mean he was like Shigaraki?

(Y/n) let out a whimper. The itchiness would only scream more if he retracted his hands from his neck. He rubbed his skin raw, scratching so hard he could’ve swore there was blood starting to seep out from his neck.

The door to Iida’s dorm room clicked open silently. (Y/n) paid no mind to it, more focused on the unbearable itch on his neck and the tears clumping at his eyes.

“...(Y/n)-kun? Are you alright?” Iida’s voice broke through the small breaths and scratches of (Y/n), making him look up slightly with blurry eyes. When (Y/n) said nothing, Iida immediately dashed into his bathroom, looking for a small container of ointment.

Iida timped back into the room with a tiny white container in his hands, unscrewing the cap and placing it on under the container. He sat down on his bed, next to (Y/n).

“(Y/n)-kun...I need you to remove your hands, please.” (Y/n) whimpered out a weak, pained “No...” Iida pursed his lips.

“I promise it’s only for a second, it won’t itch.”

“It-it won’t stop-!” Blood was starting to drip down (Y/n’s) nails. Iida winced, quickly shuffling to the bedside table to grab a tissue from a half-filled tissue box. He returned calmly, sitting down next to (Y/n).

He gently set his hand on top of one of (Y/n’s), testing the waters and gently urging him to pull away. “It will only be for a second, love.” He said, with the tissue in his free-hand and the cream resting on a book laying on the bed.

(Y/n) let him pull away his hand, and Iida immediately went up to dabbing the tender, red area of his neck. There wasn’t much blood to begin with, only a few drops, but Iida didn’t want to take the risk of rubbing in the ointment while there was blood on his neck. He dipped his fingers into the white cream of the container, gently cupped (Y/n’s) cheek with his dry hand, and blotted the reddest parts of his neck as gently as he could.

(Y/n) eventually cooled down, the cold substance of the cream as well as the medicine inside it enough to soothe his nerves. Iida hummed.

“How are you feeling?” Iida earned a hum of satisfaction in reply. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

(Y/n) paused for a second, before patting the bed around for his phone. His hand eventually landed on it, and he turned on the newscast in hopes they were still playing the same topic they were on to show Iida. Iida bent over slightly to examine (Y/n’s) phone screen.

“...a villain? The one who attacked us at USJ?”

(Y/n) nodded. “He also probably has a skin condition that makes him all itchy too....the news said it and they played a video of him scratching his neck—and I don’t wanna be like that-“

“Ah...I understand. I understand how upsetting it must be to share something in common with a villain.”

“It’s not just that, though...” (Y/n) sighed. “Because of the scratching, I have all these ugly red blotches on my body...and it makes me look scary...I don’t want my skin to end up like his either...”

Iida hummed. He set a hand on (Y/n’s) shoulder. “I can assure you, you are nothing like a horrible villain such as him. I’m sure there are many heroes with conditions such as your own!”

(Y/n) bit back a smile. He downcast his head, trying to avoid touching his sensitive neck as much as he could.

“Thank you...”

——

Hero training.

(Y/n) dreaded hero training.

The class itself wasn’t so bad, no. No, it was before and after hero training. Where he’d have to change into his hero costume, and change out of it after class was done.

When he did that, everyone could see the ugly red splotches or red scratch marks that made it look like a cat attacked him nonstop. He always made it a point to get in and out of there as fast as he could so no one would ever bring up the rough skin plastered on his body.

But luck didn’t seem to be on his side today.

(Y/n) tore off his hero costume, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. Or at least have something covering him by the time every one else arrived. Of course, Iida was there—he could never beat him first to the locker rooms somehow—but he trusted his boyfriend enough to let him change in the locker room while his vulnerable, spotty body was exposed.

But just as he had every single article of his hero clothing off, leaving him in his underwear, he heard footsteps rattling closer, before the door to the changing room swung open. His stomach dropped.

“Yooo! (L/n)! What’s-oh?” Kaminari’s boisterous voice dug pits in (Y/n’s) guts. He slowly turned around, doing his best to cover his torso with his U.A button-up shirt as he did so. He saw Kaminari standing a few good feet away from him, as the boys of 1-A began filing into the locker room. (Y/n) glanced at Iida, his anchor in a situation like this, before catching his apologetic expression.

“Dude...did Tokoyami really fuck you up that bad in trainin’ today?” Kaminari pointed at the red marks nipping at (Y/n’s) forearms and legs. Sure enough, he sparred with Tokoyami today, but that wasn’t really the cause.

Tokoyami turned around. He shook his head. “Dark shadow cannot inflict such...scratches. And if he did he should be in Recovery Girl’s office instead of the locker rooms.”

(Y/n) silently wished Tokoyami would just take the bait and say it was Dark Shadow. Because Kaminari wouldn’t be rubbing his chin and saying,

“So then what’s all that?” While gesturing circles to the rough, red skin on (Y/n’s) body.

“S’nothin...that’s all...” (Y/n) quietly mumbled. He turned around swiftly, shrugging on the button-up of his uniform and trying to button it up with shaky fingers.

Hands reached down from behind (Y/n) and grabbed his wrists, lifting them high above his head and twirling him around.

“Duuuude! They’re all over your stomach too!”

“Please...lower your voice, Kaminari-kun.” Iida voiced as kindly as he could, not facing (Y/n) to at least spare him one less pair of eyes that were staring at his red-blotched body.

Kaminari’s eyes were plastered onto the red scratch marks and flaked skin on (Y/n’s) barely-buttoned shirt, while (Y/n) wriggled his hands free from his grasp. He completely ignored Iida’s request.

He unconsciously brought his hands up to his neck, still sensitive from yesterday’s...incident and certainly still itchy. The itch was coming back.

He started pawing at the growing itch on his neck, his back pressed against the locker door as he tried to reach for his pants with his free hand.

He started pulling them on the best he could with one hand, not hearing the growing voice of Kaminari asking about why he was itching his neck; or the quiet protests from Iida. Once his pants were sloppily hanging from his waist, his hand flew up to scratch another forming itch right under his eye.

Kaminari suddenly clapped his hands together, looking very appealed all of a sudden. “Dude! I just realized who you looked like!”

“Kaminari-kun, thats-“

“Remember that villain who attacked us at USJ? Shigaraki? The one who kept scratching at his neck and stuff? I think they did a special on him on the news yesterday!”

“Kamina-“

“You look exactly like him!” Kaminari chuckled. “The scratching-“

Iida abruptly slammed his locker door shut. The loud bang it produced shook waves across the locker room, loud enough to silence every one there. Kaminari flinched in surprise, along with everyone else in the changing room.

“...Shut the fuck up, Kaminari.”

Silence ensued the once talkative changing room. All eyes fixated on Iida, a dead scowl on his face that replaced the mighty rule-abiding gaze he wore. The use of no honorific for the first time was absurd, but hearing Iida tell Kaminari to ‘shut the fuck up’ really took the cake. Iida was glaring dull daggers at Kaminari, who was standing there staring back with awkward eyes.

(Y/n) took that opportunity to mumble a quiet “I have to use the bathroom..” and slip out from in front of Kaminari, and slink out of the changing room. He buttoned up his shirt as quickly as he could, not caring about his long forgotten tie or blazer with the burning, unbearable itch that pulsed from his entire body.

He figured he couldn’t last in class like this.

——

Iida sped-walked all the way to the U.A heights alliance. He was worried when (Y/n) didn’t show up to afternoon classes, but didn’t want to run in fear of immodesty on school grounds.

Though, he supposed it hardly mattered anymore, especially after his spiel in the locker room. He was so irritated he didn’t think to apologize until they got back to the classroom. And boy, did bowing hundreds of times, chittering “I apologize for my rude behavior!” Millions of times over again count as an apology.

Iida started sprinting, before ducking into the door and up the stairs.

He ran around the whole dorm building, in case (Y/n) was hiding in someone else’s room or the restrooms. No luck.

And he had no further luck until he passed by (Y/n’s) dorm room, hearing soft sobs and skritches from inside the room. Iida hummed, knocking on the door.

“(Y/n)-kun?”

The sobbing from inside (Y/n’s) room went silent. Iida set his hand on the doorknob.

“Please open the door. Or let me in, please.”

Iida was trying his best to keep his voice level, but inside he was probably just as panicked as (Y/n). Even though he knew (Y/n) kept his medicated cream in his room, Iida had grabbed the spare laying in his own just in case. The soft whimpers from inside the room resumed. Iida sighed.

“I’m coming in. Pardon the intrusion.”

The door the (Y/n’s) room softly clicked open, the light from the outside casting a strip of yellow light into the dark that was (Y/n’s) room. Iida took a moment to let his eyes adjust, before his red eyes fell onto the curled up ball of itching that was (Y/n).

Iida quietly sat down next to (Y/n) on his bed, who paid him no mind. He kept sobbing into the school uniform he never bothered to change out of, one hand under his button-up and the other scratching at the back of his arm. Eventually, his arms switched to scratch at his legs and his neck.

“It burns...it-it burns, Ten-“

“I know, I know,” Iida refrained himself from patting (Y/n’s) back, in fear he’d accidentally inflame that area. Instead, he calmly rose from the bed, walking briskly to (Y/n’s) closet. He opened it gently, shuffling through clothes and picking out a loose shirt and basketball shorts.

He laid them out on the bed. “Do you think you can put these on for me...? Oh, but before you put the shirt on, please allow me to apply your medication onto your stomach..”

(Y/n) briefly looked up to see Iida squatted down infront of him through his tucked-in knees. He looked from Iida to the clothes waiting for him on the bed.

Iida set a hand down on the mattress next to (Y/n). “I can turn around if you would like me to.”

(Y/n) nodded, and Iida stood up and faced the opposite side of his room. Waiting as he heard shuffles of clothes being removed and slipped on, accompanied by more itching, he alas heard the dry “m’done..” from (Y/n) he turned back around.

(Y/n) was scratching at his arms, his head turnt down and tears still cascading down his face. He was holding the shirt in in between one of his armpits. Red blotches and scratch-lines littered (Y/n’s) chest, arms, and legs. The irritated skin looked even more irritated as (Y/n) scratched and clawed at them even more.

“Thank you, handsome.” Iida cooed. “Are you comfortable with me applying it to your chest or would you like to do that on your own?”

“You can do it...I don’t...” (Y/n’s) voice died down, but Iida got the gist of what he was saying. He set (Y/n) back down to his bed, drawing the cream out from his possession and popping off the cap.

After smearing on a generous amount to his chest, his forearms, and his calves, (Y/n) was able to stop scratching for just a bit. It soothed the burning itch for only just a bit, though.

Iida brought his cream-covered fingertips to (Y/n’s) red neck. He tilted it up, giving Iida access, as he rubbed gentle circles around it.

“Would you like to talk about what happened?” Iida said, not taking his eyes off of his current task. (Y/n) sniffed.

“...Do you think I act like Shigaraki? I know you said I didn’t...but you were just being nice, weren’t you?” (Y/n’s) voice was barely audible over the sounds of his sniffles and hics. Iida pressed his lips into a fine line, making sure to coat every area of his neck before retracting his hand. “S’ok...you can tell me, I won’t be mad.”

“(Y/n)-kun...darling, you know that’s absurd.”

“But it isn’t!” (Y/n’s) voice cracked. “Y’know-my body’s already all ugly and disgusting, I might as well become a villain especially because I look like one.”

“Just because you have these splotches on your body doesn’t make you any less handsome.”

“Stop lying, Tenya.”

“You know me, I don’t lie.” Iida placed his hands on his lap as (Y/n) carefully slipped on his shirt. “What kind of class representative would I be if I were a liar? I’m just stating facts like a good civilian.”

“And it’s a fact that (L/n) (Y/n) is the most beautiful, handsome, alluring boy I have ever laid my eyes on. Kaminari-kun took his ‘joke’ too far, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t qualify as a joke in the first place.”

Iida finally set his hand on (Y/n’s) shoulder. “Please don’t let his words get to your head. Your nothing like a villain, nor is your skin any less beautiful than you think it is. If you can’t love it yourself, I will just have to make sure to love you just as much to make up for it.”

(Y/n) stayed quiet for a second, before shifting closer to Iida and laying his head down against his shoulder. Iida smiled, reaching up to pat (Y/n) appreciatively on the head.

“Thank you, Tenya.”

‘Please don’t compare me to a villain.’

Because (L/n) (Y/n) was far from it.

——————

I apologize if I got any information wrong, I am not the best educated on topics such as skin conditions :((

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x male reader #mha x reader #iida x reader #tenya iida x reader #iida imagine #iida tenya x reader #bnha iida #mha iida #iida x male reader #boku no hero academia tenya #boku no hero acadamia #my hero academia #my hero x reader #my hero x male reader

[peonyneko]

Hi! I have a request :) How would Izuku act around a reader with a feline quirk? I’d say the quirk would be interesting— like a cat she’d sleep more than regular stufents— she could jump high— and she has claws. Either way, what would Midoriya think?

Izuku x Feline!Reader

- When he first saw your he immediately noticed your subtle feline features. Your sharp eyes, pointed ears, and canines were the first to capture his attention. "Someone with feline quirk! But what kind?" were his first thoughts.

- He was immediately interested in your quirk because "another transformation quirk!" But he didn't want to assume so he would trying ease into knowing your quirk.

- After knowing you for about a month, expect him to ask about your quirk without any hesitation.

- Are you tired often because of your messy sleep/school schedule because of your nocturnal nature? He will try to constantly recommend ways to slip in nap here and there throughout the school day.

- "Hey, ____. We have 25 minutes until battle starts. I saw a beanbag near the entrance early. You should go rest!"

- Lunch time? He'll sometimes forgets that you're not in danger when eating foods felines normally shouldn't have. After all, you're still human. "___! You can't eat choc- Wait, uh nevermind. Continue"

- Your incredible hearing really fascinates him. He can rarely ever sneak up on you, especially during battle and training. He takes up the challenge and is glad that you're helping him become smoother and more quiet with his actions.

- "Ah! So close," he said with a support item from your hero suit in his hand. He managed to grab it before you jumped away.

- Although he expected it, he's quite shocked by your flexibility. One time, your pencil fell behind your desk. He was just about to get but your body did a whole twist and you easily got your pencil without his help. He was left calculating the amount of surprises he will continue to get from you.

- He's fascinated by your claws. They help you climb, attack, cut, and so much more. Lucky you! He's always on watch for them when you two practice fighting. He would be someone to recommend serums or care products that will strengthen and sharpen your claws.

- "Do you need scissors? Oh, you already opened it?!" Wow, the claws really are cool and useful

- Your feline noises (For ex: meows, purrs, and soft rumbles) surprise him but he finds it cute and soothing. He is able to easily tell your emotions from them. Especially when they're negative ones, they immediately grab his attention. He looks out for them so he knows your mental state, too.

- Sometimes he notices that you're on edge because of your ears and eyes hinting it. He tries to calm you down by talking to you or giving you something to scratch or fidget with.

- When ever you both race, you both are quite literally flying. He's speeding with his jumps (also if you read the manga then you know what else). You're just as fast with your jumps and runs.

- When you jump up, he is in awe because you jump incredibly high, like Tsuyu. He does get worried when you jump down from very high heights but he remembers that it's your quirk and you know how to control it.

- He's likes your transformations. One second you're fully human, the next you're the feline creature he knows (and loves). You even do a hybrid transformation which hold a lot of advantages. He really wonders what your tail and ears feel like but he wouldn't want to touch them without your permission. (And he's worried you'll find him odd or creepy).

- He stands up for you when others try to put your down because of your animal quirk. He will let you handle the comments yourself but he will say something too. "They work just as hard as anyone else. You should mind your words and treat them as an equal."

- Your canines! He likes the way they look. Lowkey has the urge to touch them to see how sharp they are but (once again) he doesn't want to be creep and make you uncomfortable.

- Your movements are so smooth and fluid. He's in awe. No wonder some villains and training opponents look captivated when you move. Not only that, you move so fast. He needs to move his eyes fast in order to catch a glimpse of you.

- He absolutely loves it when you fully transform and become an emotional support for some of your classmates. When it's someone you're not close with or you're too tired, you're able to easily call other felines for help. He finds your kind gestures really heartwarming.

- One time you became his emotional support feline and he was so happy but nervous. He was ecstatic to touch your fur because it's so pretty. You're so pretty. Your noises calmed him down too. Your presences brought good vibes and he felt at ease. (Of course, he did ask for permission if he can).

- He tries to actively know if you are bothered by any actions or words. If you tell him about something that hurts you or you don't like, he'll immediately put it on his "don't do" list. He will also tell the class so they're aware.

- Is so proud of you during battles and challenges because you're doing incredible. Wow, look at them! That move was a great choice. They're my ____ alright. Wait... my?

- Also, being the observant male that he is. He also knows your weaknesses. He kindly lets you know the areas he thinks you can improve on. He also wants your suggestions on his power. He wants to work on his and your weaknesses together.

- You both already had an agreement. If you were to fall asleep in an odd place or position then he would help you out.

- He noticed your room was unlocked but you weren't there. Instead, when he went downstairs, you were sleeping in the main room. You were balled up under the table. His eyes soften and he goes near you. They're too cute. I'll take them to their room.

- Overall, Izuku would absolutely love the reader's feline quirk. He is fascinated by your strengths and weaknesses. Your transformations, features, and personality have him enraptured.

-----------

I tried not to specify the readers gender because different people might read this. If you want something similar, a part 2, or even a small story/imagine, please let me know. I hope you enjoyed it! Once again, sorry for the delay.

#midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #feline!reader #reader #bnha requests #mha requests #izuku midoriya #deku #deku x reader #cat! reader #request #anon asks #izuku fluff #cat reader

[tsukikoayanosuke]

Captain Talks About Some Writing Things - (Reverse) Harem Protagonist

If you feel offended while reading this, I apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but this is just something I notice and sometimes do. This is only my opinion in addition to looking at this through the lens of storytelling and writing.

Also, this is not a call-out post. However, since I'm in Twisted-Wonderland fandom, I'll be giving my example from there. There will be a premise for those who aren't from the fandom.

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Now, I'm going to start with a disclaimer: Harem and reverse-harem is not my favorite genre. In fact, romance is my least favorite genre for a couple of reasons:

One, I've never fallen in love before. At least, not that deep. Yes, I did have a puppy love crush when I was in middle school, but after that, it disappeared because that boy I was pining over was in a different class in high school.

Two, I'm not ready for love or marriage just yet. I was taught that dating is the first step in preparing yourself for marriage. That's why I've never dated before. Call this a traditional mindset, but this is what I was taught and it's hard to just jump away from everything your family and community had taught you for your entire life.

With that, you can see why I have some problem connecting with romance and (reverse) harem. From all the anime I've watched, I only know a couple of harem anime and most of them are trashy adaptations. I watch Disney movies as fantasy escapism, not because I want to fall in love and marry a prince. I read more found family fanfic than even the slowest burn I can find.

With that background, you can see that I might be biased in my judgment, but I'll try my best not to in explaining this.

Let's actually start from the definition of 'harem (genre)' according to Wikipedia:

A genre where a protagonist is surrounded by three or more androphilic (male, masculinity)/gynephilic (female, femininity) love interests or sexual partners.

In harem, the main focus is the protagonist's romantic relationship with their potential partners, similar to a dating sim. I know some of us have watched or played a dating sim game.

Now there are three things were going to focus on in this discussion: protagonist, potential partners, and romantic relationships. As we go down, I'll give you an example with a self-made OC.

-Protagonist-

Let's not try to deny this, guys. Sometimes, (reverse) harem protagonists suck. They're might be the most milquetoast white boy/girl you could ever see. A boring (reverse) harem protagonist might make you wish the comedic best friend or even the villainess is the main character instead. And that's something you don't want to have in a protagonist. You might argue that it'll make it easier to project yourself into the main character position. But do you really want to bring yourself down to a character who doesn't have a backbone?

This is most prominent in 'x reader' and 'Y/N' fanfic. You know you can't make a specific reader, thus you have to make them as generic as possible.

How do we work this out? To start, don't start with a 'HAREM protagonist', but make a 'harem PROTAGONIST'. This is the same as making a 'strong female CHARACTER' instead of a 'strong FEMALE character' (which I hope we can tackle this one day).

We need to make a protagonist first, whether they're likable or not. Do you want your protagonist to be an 'all-loving hero/heroine' or a 'jerk with a heart of gold'? What is their personality? What is their backstory? Everything you have learned about making a character, pour them out in making your (reverse) harem protagonist with their strength, weakness, and flaws.

Another thing we need to remind ourselves is that our protagonist has a personality outside the harem. The point of having a harem is that there's something that makes the love interests fall in love with your protagonist. And I can't stress this enough: being pretty/handsome is not a personality. If the love interests fall in love with your protagonist just because of their looks, that's not love. That's lust. We'll talk more about this in the next sections.

Now, let's make a (reverse) harem protagonist:

Yume Sakaki is a 16 years old girl from Tokyo, Japan who got hit by a truck and isekai-ed to a magical all-boys academy called Night Raven College. Before her death, Yume is an avid visual novel gamer who has no interest in romance with real-life boys. She prefers to daydream about her 2D husbando. She sees everything like a game, thinking of many potential perks when deciding on something, and compares stuff in her mental tier list. However, because of her lack of socializing, most people will see her as weird. She herself doesn't really know anything outside her game.

When she got isekai-ed, her personality gets carried over to the new world. But because this is a magical world, it'll make it harder for her. For one, she sucks in school because, you know, a magical school. But, she gains a small group circle of friends when she joins the board game club and got introduced to new games.

-Potential Partners-

Now, I'll keep this brief because we're talking in the realm of fanfiction, thus we already have thousands of characters we can push our (reverse) harem protagonist onto.

However, this is where our problem starts: OOC characters.

The biggest sin in 'x reader' and/or (reverse) harem fanfictions is making the canon characters (aka the potential partners) so out of characters to fill your protagonist harem. How many times you've seen a cold character become so overprotective after seeing the protagonist? How many times a villain is willing to drop their well-crafted evil plans to mary the protagonist? If this becomes too much, it'll be very annoying instead of cute. It'll make the canon characters (aka the potential partners) look like a brainless simp and make the protagonist (aka the 'reader', aka 'Y/N') such a mary-sue for being the center of the universe.

How do we work this out? For one: research. If the canon characters are not lovey-dovey, maybe don't make them like that. Always remember that canon characters have lives outside of the (reverse) harem protagonist and they are allowed to not think about the protagonist 24/7. They need to be able to stand on their own without the protagonist.

Now, let's give some love interests for our (reverse) harem protagonist:

Ace Trappola, a first-year student and Yume's classmate who sat beside her. Ace has a cheerful and mischievous personality, and often enjoys teasing others too. He doesn't have a problem speaking out his thoughts and could even come as far as insulting others.

Riddle Rosehearts, the chairman of the public morals committee. Riddle has a strong commitment and dedication to implementing the rules. He has no problem punishing rule-breakers. He is quite irritable and becomes very angry if someone admits that they are against the rules that he has set in place.

Azul Ashengrotto, a second-year and member of the Board Game Club. Upon first seeing Azul, he came off as 'friendly' and willing to 'help' others. He is also intelligent in arranging words and is also known to be sly. He is also seen to be skilled in every aspect.

Idia Shroud, a third-year, and leader of the Board Game Club. He doesn't like being in places with many people around and so he doesn't go outside very often. He doesn't talk much with his classmates or people from school, but things change when he talks about his hobby or things he likes.

-Romantic Relationship-

Now, in dating sims and visual novels, there's a thing called 'heart event' or 'character route'. Essentially, these are events that can progress the (reverse) harem protagonist and a certain love interest's relationship. Usually, we also get more insight into the love interest's past. At this point, we know what is the love interest main problem and how the protagonist is going to 'fix' it with the power of love and friendship.

This is where we can give a little leeway in canon characters being ooc. It'll only be acceptable if we see the progress. I'm going to reiterate what I just said: being pretty/handsome is not a personality. If the love interests fall in love with your protagonist just because of their looks, that's not love. That's lust. Good looks are not a steady base for a relationship. It can be an introduction, like because your senior is so good looking you want to know more about them instead of just pining from afar. But, if your protagonist's relationship is based on looks, that's... not encouraging, isn't it? If the canon characters are willing to change their entire personality just from seeing how beautiful/handsome the (reverse) harem protagonist is, can you really call it genuine?

How do we work this out? Give us progress. Show us the love interests falling in love with the (reverse) harem protagonist. If the only way to show that the love interest is in love is by kissing the rotagonist, is it really love? Show the reader the cute moments, the fallouts, the bickerings. No relationship is without their struggle, and not just in trivial things. Show us the characters changing that we can pinpoint when the love interest really had truly fallen in love.

And another thing. Remember when I say harem is about relationships? Not only do you have to pay attention to the '(reverse) harem protagonist x main love interest', you have to pay attention to the '(reverse) harem protagonist & other love interests' and 'love interests & love interests'. Is it really a harem if every love interest wants to kill each other for the protagonist's attention? DO they ever talk about anything outside their crush on the protagonist? How is everyone's relationship outside the harem? Is there any platonic relationship at all between the characters within the same age range as the protagonist?

The biggest pitfall I've seen is when there are other characters with the same gender as the (reverse) harem protagonist, the writer might either write them out or turn them into an asshole/bitch. Unless this is the character's original personality, changing their personality in other to make the (reverse) harem protagonist looks better is such a dick move. Please, don't.

Now, let's make a Heart Event:

Zero Heart Event: Yume joins the Board Game Club because she sees the recruitment pamphlet on the announcement board. There, she meets with Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, and Ortho Shroud (Idia's little brother). The first session is a game of snake and ladder. Somehow, Yume is so lucky that day that she wins the first game, earning a spot in the club.

First Heart Event: One day after a few weeks in school, Yume realizes that Idia looks more gloomy than usual. When she asks, Idia said that Ortho is sick. So, Yume decides to make some soup for Ortho. From here, Yume gets more respect from Idia because he can see how she's good with children.

Second Heart Event: Thee's going to be a new farm-simulator game released and Idia wants to buy it. He asks Yume to join him so that he doesn't feel too nervous in the crowd. Yume agrees and both of them go together to the game store. On the way back, both of them chat about the new features and characters. Here Idia feels more comfortable with Yume because of their same interest.

Final Heart Event: There's a Board Game Tournament and the club is joining in. When it's Idia's turn to fight, Yume is cheering for him, which gives a boost of morale. The Board Game Club wins the tournament in the end. At the end of the day, Yume and Idia spend their time at the Board Game Club room to hang their trophy. That's when Idia confesses his love because Yume is such a fun girl to hang around with. They kiss.

Some Good Examples from My Favorite Characters:

As I've said earlier, (reverse) harem is not my favorite genre, thus the good example I have is very limited.

Tomoya Okazaki - Clannad

Clannad has the biggest advantages of this anime being about family, but Tomoya is still a harem protagonist. Before the series even started, he has three girls fall for him (Kotomi, Kyou, and Ryou). At the start of the series, he meets with Nagisa, the main girl. And throughout the series, he gets Tomoyo.

Tomoya is a 'bad boy' but only really limited to just going to class very late, but still a kind boy. He's blunt and sarcastic. His father is neglectful after his mother's death. He's the first one to declare his love to Nagisa because she's a hard-working individual for her love in theater. When they have a baby and Nagisa died, Tomoya did slip into becoming like his father, but snapped back and got a second chance for a better life.

Katarina Claes - My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

The biggest selling point for this anime is the fact that this can be counted as a bisexual harem. All the male love interests (Geordo, Alan, Nicole, and Keith) and the supposed female rivals (Sophie, Mary, and Maria) are in love with the main character.

Katarina is very dense but lovable and has a big heart. She's actually a 17 years old otaku girl who died and got reincarnated as the main villainess in her favorite otome game who always ended up either dead or exiled. Katarina is too busy avoiding her doom flags that she doesn't even realize that her kind attitude makes all the characters in the game change for the better and even fall in love with her.

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Now, to close this, this is not me saying that you shouldn't make a (reverse) harem fanfic or it's wrong to make one. I'm saying that there's a lot of potential of making (reverse) harem. (Reverse) harem, 'x reader', 'Y/N' fics have a reputation of being not well-written. But that doesn't mean it's always like that. Maybe, just start with making a likable protagonist and a believable romance, and then maybe the story can be a pleasant surprise.

The final question: why does this matter? Isn't the point of making a (reverse) harem fanfic is for our self-indulgent? And you are right. In the end, we write fanfiction for fun. Don't stop writing just because I'm saying this. After all, I'm saying this as someone who doesn't enjoy (reverse) harem or romance fic, so my opinion is not the most valid.

All I can say is, good luck with your (reverse) harem protagonist and story~!

And if any of you want to listen to me ramble about any character archetype, you can send a request through my "Good Question" ask box~!

#the captain's rambling #characters trait #oc creating tips

[aizawa-needs-coffee]

Shinsou x reader who is really responsible but only acts like that because nobody was ever there for them and the reader has ✨trauma✨ but doesnt show it? bonus points is Shinsou walks in on them crying or smth and its angst to fluff and 10000000/10 if it ends in cuddles

I hope you like it!

Shinso x GN reader Angst/Fluff SFW All characters are 18+

Wordcount: 1,055

Shinso had been aware of you since the school year began, watching as you helped everyone who needed it, he was there when you made friends with Denki and helped him study to pass exams, the nights you would stay up and try your best to get the blond to pay attention. He’d seen you help Midoriya when it came to the brash and obnoxious Bakugo picking on him in the hallways.

Every single time anyone needed help he saw you there at the for front trying your best. He’d asked you in passing once “Why do you do it? Why help everyone?” and you’d just offered him this smile, this sweet, rehearsed smile he’d seen a thousand times “It’s the responsible thing to do, we are heroes after all right?”

He’d never mentioned it again, your reason had been good enough at the time, everyone who wanted to be a hero was bound to have that mentality. The responsibility to help whoever was in need.

One night after he’d had extra training with Aizawa-sensai he was slowly making his way back to the dorms, the hallways so quiet, such a stark contrast from the day when the place was filled with students and staff, bristling with so much energy. Being able to hear each of his footsteps felt unnatural.

His own foot fall suddenly not the only sound his ears could pick up, the shuffling of chair legs on the floor caught his attention to the right, the light was still on, maybe a teacher had staid behind to do marking he mused to himself walking past the door without a second thought. Shinso paused midstep when the sound of a sob broke into the air.

He should mind his own business, he knew that he didn’t like when others fussed over him either, but something about the sad sobs had his heart aching, it felt tight in his chest. The sorrowful muffled wails coming from the room. He sighed outwardly, was he going to regret getting involved?

Sliding the door open he was surprised to see you sat at one of the neatly arranged desks, face buried in your arms as you cried your heart out, no regard to the sound of the sliding door, even when he closed it and stepped forward.

You did not stir from where you cried into your arms, body shivering from each soul wrenching sob, he rubbed his neck nervously and let out cough, he felt bad that you hadn’t noticed his presence, he didn’t want to come off as being intrusive to what was obviously a very private moment.

Lifting your head, eyes red and puffy, tear stained cheeks you sniffled, blinking your blurred vision when you made out who it was. “S-Shinso…h..hey!” there it was, the bright fake smile you wore everyday like it was also part of your uniform.

“Stop it” He was shocked at how blunt that had come out, but the mask you wore at seeing the purple haired male slipped, your lip quivered, putting your arm over your eyes not wanting him to see you cry any more then he already had.

“I can-can’t” you sobbed in a pleading tone, thinking Shinso had meant the tears that still ran freely down your face, soaking the sleeve of your blazer, he clicked his tongue and dropped his bag from his shoulder, making his way over to you.

“Not the crying” you looked over your makeshift shield at him, blinking back more tears, gasping in shock as he knelt on one knee, eye level with you now. “I’m not someone you need to put that fake smile on for, I can see through it” he started, and you trembled at his words, had it always been that obvious?

“I’m so tired Shinso” You let your arm fall by your side, not looking at him, unable to make eye contact, you felt so weak. “I’m so tired of it, I shouldn’t have to be this grown up yet b..but there’s no one… no one to look after me!” fresh tears filled your eyes as you lifted your head now.

“No one cares about me..n..not my f..family” You felt like you couldn’t breathe, the tightening in your chest, the tears coming too strong now, the hic ups taking your breath away, the cusp of a panic attack forcing it’s way into your senses.

He couldn’t do it anymore, seeing you falling apart piece by piece in front of him, the pain that radiated off your words, the unpleasant tingle of familiarity he felt. He moved forward, arms grabbing you and pulling you against him. You choked on a sob, suddenly Shinso had his arms around you, your chin perched on his shoulder. You let it go, the tears, every overwhelming feeling of loneliness, bitterness, everything.

And Shinso held you, grounded you, he rubbed your back as you started to run out of steam, your painful wails simmering down to small whimpers. He gently pulled away to look at you once your body had gone limp against his, his hands on your arms as he did so.

“You can’t be responsible for everyone” Shinso frowned, hands sliding down to find your knees, resting there. Another sigh, he wasn’t good at this stuff, it was why he’d tried his best to remain on the outside.

“I j..” He cut you off, standing to his full height and offering you his hand. “No, I don’t want to hear it, you need to start letting people in” God he hated the irony in his own words, Aizawa’s advice really, but you both needed to hear it.

“You have to start living for you, some people aren’t worth it and some people… “he paused thinking about the friends he was slowly making “Are going to have your back too, just give them the chance to be” You nodded your head, wiping your eyes on your sleeve before allowing yourself to be helped up.

“It’s hard but the dumbasses in this class are the best people to help with that.”

You laughed at his playful insult, feeling the emotions from just before start to leave your body, feeling stronger and braver with your own “Even you?” It was his turn to stare at you, blinking his tired eyes.

“Yeah, even me”

#sfw #gender nuetral reader #shinso x reader #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #angst #fluff

[bozowrites]

Hey! Could I ask an imagine with Bakugou x female reader that is Aizawa’s only child? Like how they would start off as enemies because of their strong personalities but eventually end up together through some circumstances (that’s really up to you!). Angst and smut please! (also extra points if todoroki is aizawas daughter’s bestfriend) Thank u! Also your blog is amazing and I always check for updates! Keep the good work! 😌✨

I Don’t Hate You, But I Don’t Love You Either

Imagine 

↳ Shouting and yelling at one another doesn’t always mean hatred. Sometimes there’s a little love in the mix. 

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki × Aizawa!Fem!Reader 

TW: None.

Word count: 0.8k

A/n: Sorry for the long wait and i apologize for not getting to the smut :( but i kinda dig the idea of a part 2??? AND YOU CHECK MY BLOG FOR MORE WORK?!?!? i love you sm 🥺💖

“Tsk, how did you get in, hm? Did daddy get you in?” Aizawa Y/n grumbled, shooting daggers at the ass—ash blonde, Bakugou Katsuki. “I will kick you ass if you don’t shut the fuck up!” the two butted foreheads, glaring at one another as if the other was an enemy.

 “Break it up you two.” Aizawa Sensei said, pushing his daughter back from Bakugou. The two walked their own ways, the classes had ended and it was time to go home. It was only a week into the school year, and rivalries have already been made between students. “Let’s go, Kiddo.”

Aizawa Y/n stared in horror as her father was taken by the medics. His elbow decade, his head smashed hard into cement by a Nomu. She gulped, feeling her knees give out, falling numb into someone’s arms. She heard their voice speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear clear enough. Her head was dizzy, her brain felt dead. Her heavy breathing only made it worse. Hardly holding onto the reality that her father is severely injured on the way to the hospital, she blacked out.

 Bakugou held her limb body in his arms. He shouted for Kirishima to get a pro hero, to take her from him. They all had their own shocks and fear, but to see your own father nearly die in front of you, especially when he’s the only parent left, is a fear like no other. He couldn’t even be mad at her.

"Y/n? Are you coming?” Todoroki placed his hand on the small of her back, speaking quietly. “Of course. I may dislike Bakugou, but he doesn’t deserve this. I need to help. Even if it means dad lectures me as a teacher and a father.”

“Bakugou, what the hell is your problem?!” Aizawa Y/n shouted, throwing her water bottle to the side, pissed at the blonde. “What’s my problem?! What the fuck is your problem?!” he shouted right back. The two had kept throwing insults at each other, over and over and over again, neither letting up.

 Todoroki and Kirishima sat on the bench nearby, watching their two sparring partners bicker. “Should we stop them?” Kirishima sweat dropped watching the two. “No, they need to get their feelings out.”

 “Their feelings?”

 “Y/n-chan has feelings for Bakugou.” Kirishima choked on his saliva, eyes bulging out of his skull in absolute surprise. “WHAT?!”

 Kirishima kept his eyes trained on Bakugou and Aizawa Y/n’s exchange. They were working on a project together, thanks to Aizawa Sensei forcing the two to sit and work together nicely.

 Their hands brushed against one another, their ears each turning red. Their glances always caught one another’s and each glared to cover it. It seemed so obvious to him now! “OH, MY GODS!”

 “SHUT UP, KIRISHIMA!”

“Bakugou?” said male stood outside Aizawa Y/n’s dorm, tired and hardly holding it together. She didn’t speak another word, grabbed his hand, tugging him lightly to her bed. It was nearly two in the morning, and Bakugou never dared to stay up this late.

 He didn’t defy her movements as she made him lay down in her bed, face up to the ceiling and longing for something. She sighed, pulling the blanket over him, covering his chest. She didn’t ask anything or mutter a single word. He clearly didn’t have a grip on reality, looking so tired and burnt out.

 She sat over on the desk chair, playing soft music on her phone to ease the nerves in the room. He didn’t move a muscle, staring at the ceiling in silence, hardly hearing the music. He didn’t need to say anything, it was obvious what was happening. Though it had been a few weeks since his kidnapping, he still had the occasion nightmare, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. How could he? He would look so weak! Yet somehow, he doesn’t know how, he always ended up in his rival’s room, laying in her bed and waking up there in the early morning. And she never questioned him or said anything. Nothing. She didn’t even dare give him pitiful eyes or worrisome words. Just . . . a simple good morning.

“Goodnight, Bakugou-san.” Her eyes fell closed as she laid on the floor, a little blanket and pillow with her for comfort, though minimal. He sighed himself, glancing over to the side and seeing her moving, clearly in discomfort. This had to be the third time in the last ten days he slept in her dorm.

 She heard the shuffling, then she felt his warms, calloused hands taking hers, tugging her gently, signaling her. His face was stoic, but his eyes were soft and tired. She let a small puff of air leave her lips as she laid herself down near the edge of the bed. The bed only had so much space, their sides close in contact, rubbing together as they moved.

 She giggled, gaining his tired attention. Rolling roughly onto her side to face him, she smiled at him before whispering a “goodnight” again. He only showed the smallest of smiles when she closed her eyes and let his own eyes fall.

 “Goodnight, Y/n/n.”

#bozo answers #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakusquad #bakuhoe #bakugo comfort #bakugou imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff #bnha x reader #bnha headcanon #bnha imagines #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #my hero angst #my hero imagines #my hero x reader

[heroinautumn]

Bakugo X Male Reader | SOMETHING TO TELL YOU

Warnings : None. It’s pretty short and got the Bakugo Swearing.

Word count : 635

Summary : Y/N feels thankful Bakugo saved him last time from a villain’s attack, he just wants to say thank you. 

Notes : I just want to say that it’s pretty short and I just felt like posting this because Bakugo y’know. Stole my heart but stomps on it aswell. Might be a serie. I don’t know. Tell me what y’all think! ( And requests are open of course.)

Also if it’s between || text || , then it’s a flashback. Enjoy !!

-------------------------------------------------------------------

While barely listening to his current class, Y/N was looking through the window. He seemed more than distracted, his mind wasn’t all there anymore. His eyes rested on Bakugo and a few boys from Class 1-A doing some hero training outside on the field.  

Y/N always felt a hundred steps behind Bakugo ever since the year started. It’s not that it stung him that much, being weaker, what truly bothered him was the way he always had to be protected by the blond highschooler. 

|| “ You’re fucking annoying! Y’know that right ?” Bakugo was standing in front of him, in his hero suit after rescuing Y/N from a Villain. Y/N was on the floor, weakened by all the attacks he received protecting random bystanders. ||

He didn’t know why this memory came back to haunt him. But he shook his head and sighed dropping his pen on his desk as the bell rang.

A bit later ... 

Walking towards Classroom 1-A, Y/N was nervous, biting his lower lip. “ Y/N! ” He turned around to see Midoriya catching up. “ What are you doing? Not that there’s anything wrong with you here!” He laughed nervously, a hand behind his head. 

“ I’m here to see Bakugo !” The student smiled back.

“ Why ?” Midoriya almost fell back on his heels. “ Oh … Is it about--”

“ About last time. ” Y/N’s expression hardened. Midoriya seemed to understand. “ I have to go and apologize for the nuisance I’ve been back there. ” 

“ Yah’ fuckin’ Deku! What you did during hero training ... ” That voice, that angry grunt, they both knew who it was. Midoriya and Y/N froze at the same time before turning around like robots, slightly petrified.

“ Ay Ay Ay, Kaachan, there’s no need to-- ” His hands up before his face, Midoriya smiled awkwardly. 

“ DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! ” The blond shouted impulsively before briefly staring at Y/N who was glaring back. “ The hell’ you lookin’ at fishy eyes? ”

“ SO RUDE !” Y/N yelled back. 

“ SO FUCKING WHAT !” Bakugo seemed even more annoyed even though nothing happened. 

He was at a loss for words now that he was facing Bakugo but fortunately, Midoriya had his back. 

“ Y/N wanted to tell you something! ” He said firmly, looking at the student from the other class.

“ Midor-- ” Before he could take Midoriya’s wrist to thank him, the latter was already gone, leaving a smoking trace of his body in the air. “ SO FAST! “ Y/N yelled at Midoriya who was already long gone.

“ Hurry! I don’t have fuckin’ all day !” Bakugo stared for a few seconds before grunting again. 

Y/N was startled, coughing to clear his voice. “ O-oh yeah … Hum. “ Both his indexes were playing round and round, too shy. “ Thank you. ” Bakugo’s brow lifted. “ You’re really strong and I’ve always looked at you from behind … I-- … I’m sorry for being another bystander to protect last time. ” He meant it, it was something that he felt bad for. 

Bakugo sighed. “ The fuck you apologize for? ” He asked, starting to turn around, hands deep in his pockets. “ Just become stronger you idiot !” There was still a recognizable grunt in his voice, but his tone was much smoother somehow. “ Until then I’ll protect you since you’re still fucking weak. That’s what a hero is supposed to do anyways.” He was blushing lightly but Y/N couldn’t see his face. 

“ So manly !” Yelled Kirishima from the other side of the hallway.

“ SHUT THE FUCK UP OR ELSE! ” Yelled back Bakugo taking big steps.

Y/N was also blushing before turning around, Midoriya was standing there.

“ Everything turned all right considering !” The green-hair boy shouted. 

“ How dares he say I’m fucking weak! I’LL SHOW THIS BRAT WHAT I’M MADE OF !” Y/N yelled at Midoriya, fire in his eyes. 

“ Wait-- That’s what you caught from that? Well, I guess it’s fine too … ” Midoriya sighed, laughing lightly at the situation.

#BNHA #MHA #Bakugo x reader #Bakugo x male reader #midoriya #Deku #All Might #Kirishima #BNHA x male reader #bnha x queer reader #bakugo x y/n #BNHA x scenario #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #bnha bakugou