#i dunno if this person is still...around? but i first watched it with a friend as a teenager and i enjoyed it!

[bandtrees]

“My only hope is for one word. A simple, trivial word from a certain person…”

bungou stray dogs is an anime that iv had a fondness for since like..2018. but only now am i doing fanart for it, as iv gotten back into it via a rewatch with my friend ^_^ akutagawa was my favorite character as a mentally ill 15 year old and continues to be my favorite character as a mentally ill 20 year old

[kaibump]

I dunno man between all these 'have you watched' 'have you read' 'do you know this character' type of poll accounts it really seems like people under a certain age bracket straight up barely consume a lot of media or bother to watch anything older than current seasonal fodder and it's kind of sad tbh

[sabsberries]

birthday sex

summary - it wouldn't really be a happy birthday without some birthday head

w.c. - 2.2k

warnings - smut, oral (m! receiving), biting idk, swearing, use of y/n, first person, fiancé Harry!!!

masterlist | taglist

When I first met Harry, I quickly realised that one of his biggest fears was growing old. He had never explicitly told me, but I could tell that as the plans we made as freshly turned twenty-one year olds grew closer, Harry’s fear seemed to grow with them. Touring Italy at twenty-five? Perfect. Turning twenty-five? Terrifying. A weekend away in France for his twenty-seventh? Wonderful. Becoming a twenty-seven year old? The worst thing in the world.

I could only imagine the turmoil in his head these past few days, gnawing away at the peaceful thoughts that usually came with his well-earned touring breaks—leaving behind nothing but a big, hot, steaming pile of insecurity and fear.

Of course, he would never admit it—not to his family, not to his friends, and especially not to me. But I saw it in the smallest of ways. The way his lip quivered when he spoke about the future, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his jaw clenched, as if bracing for impact. He talked about growing old with me like it was a dream, but his body betrayed him. He hated it.

Now, though, he looked at peace. The early morning light spilled through the curtains, casting soft shadows over his face as he slept, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. For a few quiet moments, there was no fear, no tension—just him, lost in sleep, untouched by the weight of the day ahead. But today was his birthday.

I watched him, my fingers tracing invisible patterns against the sheets as I ran through every idea I had. I could make him breakfast, of course. Or maybe we could find a new café to try. Or we could even stay in and order something special. That’d be nice. But none of it felt enough. None of it could shield him from the inevitable, the thing he was dreading so much. I wanted today to be perfect for him, but how do you make peace with something that’s impossible to avoid?

He shifted slightly, his fingers twitching as if searching for something. A faint sigh escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering open just a crack before closing again, as though trying to hold on to the last remnants of sleep. His eyes slowly opened, the brightness of the room pulling him fully awake. For a moment, he lay still, blinking at the ceiling as if waiting for the world to make sense again. Then, his gaze drifted to me—soft, familiar, but there was something else in it today, something hidden, almost hesitant.

"Good morning, Birthday Boy." I mumbled, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again, and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Morning, my love." His voice was husky, tinged with humour. "What time is it?"

"Only half nine, or something. Way too early to be awake on a Saturday."

He yawned and nodded slightly, rubbing his eye. "Come here." His hand found my waist, pulling me on top of him, his grin never fading.

I laughed as he pulled me onto his stomach, my legs straddling his waist, the duvet tangled around us. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes hazy with sleep, and his lips stretched into a wide, easy grin. "What do you want to do today?" I whispered, grabbing his hands and absently fiddling with his ringless fingers.

"Dunno. Nothing, really." His grin deepened, and his gaze never wavered from mine. His fingers twitched, almost as if he wanted to hold onto mine, but he stopped himself.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing." He reaffirmed, voice soft. "I'd quite like to spend it doing fuck all with my fiancé. Who, by the way, hasn’t even given me my birthday kiss yet."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to let you wake up before bombarding you." I laughed, placing a hand on his chest and pushing it down when he tried to lean up to meet me.

I leaned down instead, brushing my lips against his, soft at first—just a gentle pressure, a playful reminder that I was here. His breath caught for a second, as if he hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon, but he melted into it, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction. His hands found their way to my back, pulling me closer, as if testing the distance between us.

The kiss deepened, slow and easy, like it had a quiet promise behind it. His lips moved against mine with a delicate urgency, as though making sure this moment would be just ours. I let myself get lost in it, closing my eyes and feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my chest.

For a while, neither of us spoke, the world outside fading into nothing but the softness of the kiss, the comfort of knowing the other was there, and for a brief moment, all the worries that clung to Harry seemed to be forgotten. 

His lips curved into a smirk against mine, but there was something else there now—something heavier. His hands, which had been resting lightly on my back, gripped tighter, his fingers pressing into my skin like he was trying to hold me there, just a little longer. The shift between us was subtle at first, a slight change in the way his mouth moved against mine, the way his breath hitched between kisses. But then, like a current pulling me under, it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was heat, need, something deeper. I pulled back just enough to look at him, my forehead resting against his.

"Happy birthday, Harry," I whispered, the words feeling more weighty now than they ever had before.

He hummed quietly, his head shaking ever so slightly, and lifted his face so that our lips could slot back together. It was different now. It was almost hungry, and the way his lips took dominance over mine certainly matched the tone.

His hands slid under my shirt, warm and deliberate as he traced the curve of my waist, fingers brushing along the skin with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. There was nothing innocent about it now. His touch was purposeful, searching, as if each movement of his hand was an attempt to tether me to him, to ground us both in this moment.

I could feel the weight of his gaze as it shifted, his eyes darkening just slightly when they met mine. The playful grin from moments before was gone, replaced by something more intense, almost desperate. It made my heart race faster, my pulse fluttering in my chest.

I leant down again, however this time to pepper light, barely there, kisses along his jawline and neck, slowly increasing in pressure until I reached just above his collarbone, where I sunk my teeth in. "Oh shit!" He hissed, bucking his hips up against mine and letting out a breathy laugh at the way it made me moan.

I moved down his chest, nipping after every few kisses, and occasionally darting out my tongue to sooth over any particularly harsher bites, before shimmying down his hips, placing a small 'thank you' kiss just above his belly button as he spread his legs enough for me to climb between.

His grey boxers had formed a darker patch where the tip of his dick had begun leaking, and, despite being covered by fabric, I could tell he had to be painfully hard by now. I pressed a delicate kiss on the wet patch, pushing out my tongue to slightly swipe across it before moving back down to his thighs and kissing from his meaty inner thigh up to his hip bone.

"Please, Y/N, c'mon." He practically cried, his hand moving to scoop a handful of hair into a ponytail, but not doing much to move my head aside from a gentle tug.

"Be patient." I mumbled, sinking my teeth into his inner thigh.

"Holy— fuck!" He exclaimed, his leg jostling in surprise.

I let go and used my tongue to sooth over the area before placing a final kiss, and moving back up.

I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down his thighs just enough so I could have full access. His dick truly looked painful, with his tip a deep red with precum leaking from the top, and his base thick with his veins slightly enlarged. I dipped my head down and wrapped my lips around his tip, barely sucking whilst my tongue moved around in circles.

Once again, his hips shot up, pushing his dick further into my mouth, and a loud, deep, guttural moan escaped from him, "Oh my fuckin— oh, shit, baby!"

With one hand, I pushed his shaking hips back down onto the bed whilst the other wrapped around his base, using the spit that trailed from my mouth as lube as I bobbed my head up and down.

I pulled my hand away and relaxed my jaw, allowing Harry deeper down my throat whilst my hands massaged deep circles into his hip bones.

“Shit I— please, Y/N.” He whined. I looked up at him and felt my cheeks heating at the sight of his head thrown back, his chest heaving and his abs clenched tight.

My jaw was already beginning to ache, but I didn’t care. The way he was whimpering and whining and crying out was enough motivation to plough through.

I pulled up completely. My hand shot back to continue a steady pace with my thumb encircling his tip, pushing over his slit every few seconds.

“Please, can I?” He asked, his cheeks flushed a deep pink colour, his lips red and raw from him biting them, and his eyes slightly clouded over and barely open.

I grinned, already knowing what he wanted to do, and nodded my head, allowing him to scoop up all of my hair into a ponytail and guide me back to his cock. His hand moved to replace mine, and after a couple pumps, his dick was being led right back into my open mouth.

Almost immediately, my tongue began working overtime, running up and down the vein in the underside of his cock, whilst I was gently sucking. “Okay, you ready?” He questioned, shifting his hips and propping up both of his legs so that his feet were flat against the bed.

I hummed ‘yes’, and once again relaxed my jaw. At first, his thrusts were slow, careful. Then, his grip on my hair tightened. His hips snapped forward, his movements gaining purpose. The sounds between us were obscene, messy, breathless, desperate. Each time his tip hit the back of my throat, I moaned louder, my body reacting on instinct.

As his thrusts got sloppier, Harry’s whimpers turned into groans, his back arched away from the bed, and his grip on my hair became almost impossibly tight.

“I’m gonna– shit! I’m gonna cum.” He groaned, his spare hand clutching the bedsheets next to his waist.

I bobbed my head to match the timings of his thrusts, and with one final dig of my nails into his thigh and a loud whimper, he was shooting hot bursts of cum down my throat. His grip loosened with every groan, moan, and whine that escaped him, and, after a minute or so of silence, he was quick to rub the back of my scalp and pull me off of his dick and up towards him.

"You’re fucking amazing. Do you know that?" He chuckled, breathlessly, his chest rising and falling beneath me. His hair was damp at the edges, sticking slightly to his forehead, and a faint sheen of sweat glowed against his flushed skin.

I grinned, my heart swelling at the way he looked at me, like I was something to be treasured. "I think I’ve heard it before—once or twice."

His breathing slowed, his grip on me loosening as exhaustion crept in. I traced slow circles over his ribs, my touch light, grounding him. He hummed, content, his fingers skimming lazily up my arm before coming to rest over my heart.

Our faces mirrored each other, wide, unabashed smiles stretching across pink-tinted cheeks. I traced my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin, the slight roughness where stubble had started to grow. His eyes, still heavy with sleep and something softer, never left mine.

I shifted slightly, pressing my forehead against his, breathing him in - warm, familiar, safe. "I love you. Happy birthday." My voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried everything I meant.

His fingers ghosted over my waist before pulling me closer, his grip firm yet gentle, like he needed to feel me against him. His smile softened, the playfulness still there, but something deeper flickered in his gaze. "I love you more."

For a moment, neither of us moved. The world outside didn’t matter; the ticking of the clock, the slow morning sun creeping across the sheets, the quiet hum of the city beyond our window. There was just us, tangled in warmth, the weight of the day which lay ahead momentarily forgotten.

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

taglist - @harryshouseo1 @hannah9921 @hisparentsgallerryy @secretisme4 @cloudyluun @mads3502 reply here or dm to be added!

[star--stilinski]

I would absolutely LOVE to request a buzzcut stiles smut omg😭

If you are comfortable and if this is not too much detail could you write something about Stiles being insecure of his buzzcut thinking it makes him unattractive but when he tells his other bsf/reader she’s like flabbergasted and tells him how hot it makes him and it makes him all cocky. Then he’d probably like ask her is she’s serious and when she says yes finally act on his feelings. Maybe soft smut? If that is okay

HALLELUIAH YES GAWDDDD i love this sm omg

☆

stiles frowns at his reflection. scott is ranting in the school bathroom again, but it's all stuff stiles has already heard before and he's distracted anyway. he runs an absent hand over his short hair before following a still-rambling scott out of the bathroom and down the hall.

it's been getting on his nerves lately, how slow his hair is growing. he thought it was pretty cool at first, until he was slapped in the face with the reality of his best friend getting girls left and right and leaving stiles completely dry. not that it's scott's fault- he's just easy to get jealous of with this kind of thing.

"dude, are you even listening?" scott abruptly stops and whirls on stiles. "you've been dead silent for, like, three minutes."

"yeah, i heard you. but it's a little hard to care about your girlfriend strife when she actively wants to sleep with you. speaking of,"

allison is leaning against a locker, watching scott with a dreamy look. she waves and smiles softly, leaving scott to return the smile-wave combo with a lot less charisma.

"listen," stiles sighs, trying to keep the bite of envy out of his tone, "you probably just need to talk to her. girls love confidence. just, i dunno," he waves wildly with his hands. "do that."

scott squints at him. "i think that might be the worst advice you've ever given me."

"worse than killing derek?"

"possibly. now, i'm gonna go-" scott throws a look towards allison and swallows thickly, "figure that out. i'll see you."

stiles calls after him; "don't be an idiot! remember i'm living vicariously through you right now!"

once scott and allison are far enough down the hall, he rubs a hand over his hair again and huffs. stupid, stupid freshman stiles and his bad hair decisions.

"you're gonna rub right through your skull."

"GAH!" stiles jumps back from you, snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. you laugh at him behind your hand, looking up through your pretty lashes. "jesus, your footsteps are like feathers. i need to put a bell on you."

that makes you frown, shoulder-checking him as you start walking. "you're just not used to anything other than two-left-feet scott mccall. i have perfectly regular footsteps."

he jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the school parking lot, eyeing your choice of shorts. your legs being out is a big plus for his racing mind today.

"hey, you busy today? scott ditched me to go play loverbirds and i don't want to do my homework." he hums, pushing one of the heavy doors open and letting you through.

"hmm, that depends, do you have food at your house?"

"not even a little," he smirks at the almost-yes as you both trot through the empty lot towards his jeep. "that's why we're getting drive thru."

"who's paying?"

"who do you think?"

you cheer excitedly as he unlocks the jeep.

☆

you're sat criss-cross on stiles' bed as he paces, tracking his movement with your eyes. he's on a tangent about scott, actually, and how his decision-making skills are subpar. you're listening intently with a tilted head, watching his hands flex as he talks, and the way his biceps bulge without his flannel on, and how his jawline is so sharp-

"and girls are confusing, y'know? sorry, no offense, it's just-" this catches your attention, making your eyes flit up to his as they dart around the room. "it's just that you're all so... so... what do you guys even want? can't be money, because scott has a girlfriend. can't be personality, because jackson has a girlfriend. definitely can't be looks, because i'm pretty sure greenburg is going out with abby right now."

he sighs and turns on you, taking a dangerous step closer to the bed. his brow is upturned, eyes pleading, lips parted.

"it's this stupid buzzcut, isn't it?"

you blink, just once, before squinting. "what?"

"my hair, it's so-" he pushes a frustrated hand through it, and his jaw clenches. "so not hot."

and when he says it, with his narrowed eyes all sharp and his pink lips pressed together, you think for a moment he must be joking. "...what?"

he turns his glare onto you. "you know what i mean, okay? it's unattractive, it must be. i mean, i go completely unnoticed-"

"wait, you actually mean to tell me you think your buzzcut is ugly?"

stiles huffs, clearly not liking the bluntness of his feelings being laid out. "that it makes me ugly, yeah."

this makes you pause. maybe you're a minority, but when stiles drives his jeep and starts talking fast about something nerdy, you imagine climbing into his lap and making him crash the car. one time you two were arguing while he was in his lacrosse uniform and you genuinely wanted to offer to suck his dick. and even right now, with his too-tight t-shirt and his frustrated face, you want to ask him to take his frustration out on you... in- in a hot way. you may have gone a little far with that one-

"would you stop looking at me like that?" he snips, eyes darting over your whole face and then your body like he's looking for the off switch. you frown up at where he stands.

"like what? i'm just in disbelief."

he rolls his eyes. "like you're gonna tackle me. it's weird, after what i just told you."

"well, maybe i do want to tackle you." oh shit, that was supposed to stay in your head! quick, make it look like it was on purpose! "the buzzcut doesn't make you ugly."

his face screws up in confusion. "well, then, what does it make me?"

"hot."

you both kinda falter, like there's nowhere to go from here. his mouth gapes open and you watch his cheeks grow pinker, much similar to your own. and since you've already dug the hole and he doesn't seem too bothered, you make it an inch or two deeper.

"you're pretty hot, stiles. i mean, you hang around scott and stay in your room, so it's not like you're around enough girls for them to tell you. and you never ask me, so... that's probably why you're unaware."

he gapes at you, a hand going to his hair like it has a whole new purpose to him. "i didn't know asking you was an option...."

"apparently it is." you shrug. your oversized t-shirt and shorts suddenly seem not pretty enough for where this conversation seems to be going, but it's too late to linger on that thought now. anyway, his eyes are on you like sniper lasers... or something... and he takes another step closer to you.

"okay, um... i'm asking you."

you raise your eyebrows. what, he just wants you to lament on how sexy he is? you're not that easy, he's probably going to use that information to chase the skirts of some long, skinny-legged girl at school. besides, there's not even that much to-

"please." he hums.

you swallow, turning your face away from him. "okay, well, you've got the whole secretly smart guy thing going on. and your nose is really nice. mix that with the way your eyes are...-"

"my eyes are what?"

you glance up to glare at his impatience. he tilts his head at you, and you swear you can see a mischievous glint in those stupid, stupid (aggravatingly sexy) eyes. bastard.

"they're, um, provocative. when you're frustrated. or focused." you turn your eyes awayyyy from his reaction, for your own safety. "and your jaw is nice, so. plus your hands-"

"my hands?"

"are you gonna keep interrupting me? 'cause i'll stop." you gripe up at him, but looking back up was a big mistake. his cheeks are tinted pink but his mouth is quirked up into a knowing little smirk, like your embarrassment is suddenly clay for him to play with. yeah, no. you are not getting stuck in this position with stiles. "okay, yeah, that's enough."

"no, nonononono wait." he crosses the rest of the distance to crouch in front of the bed, looking up at you. "i'm sorry. i'm just not used to this. or you, like this." his hand rests atop your knee. "i won't even react. keep going, just a bit?"

you pout and look at his hand as his thumb rubs back and forth on your bare skin. it's warm and relaxing and makes your whole body burn hot when his hand inches up your thigh just barely. you look back up at him, but his face is earnest, promising. you sigh.

"your buzzcut makes you look good."

his eyebrows inch up his forehead.

"really good."

stiles grins.

☆

you're not really sure if you left stiles' house or escaped it, after that. all you know is that last night did some serious damage to your ego... and some serious maintenance to his. as you leave school, your mind replays the series of events and the blush that has been plaguing your cheeks and making you overheat returns.

dammit! you had to avoid stiles all day because of this stupid embarrassment. which proved difficult, since you guys had plenty of classes together and ate lunch with each other every day since forever. you slap your cheeks as you shoulder your way past the school doors and into the parking lot, glancing over at the field where lacrosse practice is in full swing.

your eyes catch on something odd, and coach's voice fades into the background when the image registers in your mind. stiles is leaning on the fence with his helmet in hand, sweat making his skin glow and a cocky look on his face. he's leaned over the fence, chatting up three soccer girls, who all seem very interested in whatever he's saying.

this, unfortunately, does not make you happy. but alas, what are you going to do? pull him away by the ear and chastise him for... talking to girls? you just wish you hadn't said anything about his stupid buzzcut (which looks unrealistically good with his lacrosse uniform).

all three of the girls throw their heads back laughing. and it's not even, like, pretty girl flirtatious laughter. it's loud, and one of the girls slaps her friend's arm. you want to rip the arm off.

but you keep walking instead, because you decided the bus was too much and walking home was the best option. better than standing in the parking lot, staring like a creep as your best friend (who you want to messy-make-out with) finally gets girls (who you want dead).

this is going to be a pathetic walk home.

you barely get to the end of the parking lot when you hear stiles shout your name as loud as he can.

part of you wants to stomp your feet and cry, or ignore him (as if the echo didn't reverberate off of the school building), or flip him off. like a middle schooler. because right now, you don't want to deal with the humiliation of telling stiles (through mumbles and attitude) how hot he is and how badly you want him to fuck you into his mattress, only for him to use you as matchmaker for hotter, more experienced girls.

but you're not a child, and he's still your best friend. plus, his lacrosse uniform.... yum.

jesus christ, you need a drink. there is no way that thought just consciously happened.

you drag your feet walking back, and the soccer girls skip off with their ponytails swinging. stiles is smiling all big and bright when you finally reach him. you are not smiling at all. "you needed me?"

"yeah, i wanted to know if you were coming over tonight." he stands taller than you, and his buzzcut looks so touchable right now, you want to bend him down to your level and run your fingers through it. you blink up at him as you stare, and the silence stretches. his hand comes up to the back of his neck. "uhh, just 'cause i could help you with the homework we skipped yesterday-" he interrupts himself. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. for both. the homework and the question." you press your thumb into your palm and turn towards the lacrosse field, away from his searching eyes and worried lips. "see you tomorrow, yeah?"

you start to back away from him when he steps forward, the fence catching him from coming closer to you. "well i just- you should come over. i want you to."

"stiles, i can't wait for lacrosse practice to end-"

"i'll skip. they don't even need me." he clenches his jaw when you look back at him. there's a determination in his eyes you've never seen directed at you, and it makes your stomach flip. you've never fell victim to being his prey before, when he wants something so he gets it. the feeling is unrivaled. his lips part. "please."

you can feel your cheeks flush. why does that always have to work on you?

"okay, alright, no need to beg." you nod your head to his jeep, on the far side of the parking lot. "let's go."

he does a subtle fist pump that he doesn't think you see, and hops the fence to follow you, leaving literally everything in the locker room except his car keys. "how was your day?"

you glance up at him, but only for a second when you see how he's staring. all curious and excited, probably from the attention he was getting from those soccer girls. your lips press together in distaste before you even realize.

"it was fine." you shrug, watching as he gets ahead of you to open the passenger door. "got an A on mrs. martin's project."

stiles hums in approval, which may or may not make your lower stomach fizz with butterflies. then he closes your door and makes the short jog to his side, clambering inside. "good job. you hungry?"

you shake your head as he pulls out of the parking lot, doing your best to ignore the vein in his neck when he looks over his shoulder as he backs out, hand resting on your seat. yeah, you totally don't notice that. "no thanks, i'm okay."

"are you sure? i didn't see you at lunch. or english. or-"

"i wasn't feeling well today."

this shuts him up, but not in a good way. you feel his eyes on you, even as he drives, and it makes you squirm a bit. but he doesn't comment on your icy tone, and you drive the rest of the way in silence.

☆

in fact, you're silent all the way up to his room, where you toss your bag in the corner and toe your shoes off. stiles huffs out a sigh and scrubs over his buzzcut self-consciously, tracking you with his eyes as you trail aimlessly around his room and admire the things on his walls.

he's been dying to ask it. he has to. the girls on the soccer team said... he squeezes his eyes shut while you're turned away, repeating what they said to him in his head for nth time. just be honest, and confident. that's what you'd want.

stiles takes bold strides across the room right up to you. he gives you enough room to turn around and face him, but not much more.

"hey."

you scrunch your face up just a bit in confusion. "...hi?"

he clears his throat, his jaw flexing on it's own accord. "the...- okay, when you said my buzzcut makes me look really good-"

"stiles," you scoff and push past him, walking to the middle of his room as a means of escape. "i'm not doing this with you."

"no, wait, doing what?" he scurries around you to face you again, holding you lightly by the shoulders. "waitwaitwait. you gotta let me-"

"no. stop." you're embarrassed, he can tell now. the way you turn your face away and narrow your brow, he never knew he'd be able to read you so well. but he's doing it now, and he's not happy with what he's seeing.

"no, you stop. let me ask you what i want to ask, alright?" he huffs through his nose, and watches as you seem to come to attention. it gives him an odd thrill to see you react so readily when he corrects you. "are you gonna listen to me?"

you glare up at him for a second too long before nodding slowly. he nods too, and in a impatient, annoyed tone, he grumbles: "good."

and then stiles watches your eyes flicker as you fluster much more than he expected. he didn't think much of the words when he was saying them, but here you both are, weirdly into it. he blinks hard to clear his head.

"when you said my buzzcut makes me look 'really good'," he repeats, "did you mean really good to you or to other people?"

he feels you shift your weight by the movement of your shoulders. looking away, you hum, "i don't understand why this is important to you."

stiles narrows his eyes. "yes you do. you know you're into me and you just wont say it."

you snap your eyes to his and take a challenging step forward. "who said i'm into you? just because i said you're good looking doesn't mean you get to use me as some matchmaking machine. i won't inflate your ego just so you can hook up with popular girls, stiles. you can't-"

"i'm not asking so you can inflate my ego." stiles takes a step towards you, making you step back. "i'm asking because i want to know if you were serious." another step. "because i want you to think that about me." another step, and your back hits the wall.

you watch, doe eyed, as stiles brings a hand up to push some of your hair away from your face. his eyes meet yours, but dip down when your lips part. he swallows.

"so," stiles hums, towering over you. "were you being serious?"

stiles watches in awe as your pretty mouth forms around his new favorite word.

"yes."

he half expects himself to tear both of your clothes off and go wild. but his body moves on its own accord; taking your face gently in his hands, kissing you like you're made of glass. when you reciprocate eagerly, he feels his pants start to strain. fuck. seriously? can you please pretend you've had at least some action before?

he can't believe he has to talk his dick down when he's kissing you.

pressing you back up against his bedroom wall, he feels goosebumps rise as your nails rake lightly over his buzz, and it makes him hum. stiles gently removes one hand from the curve of your jaw and slides it onto your hip instead. he loves your hips. he loves them even more when his hands are on them, apparently, because the feeling of it is otherworldly.

what's even better, though, is when your tongue collides with his and you let out a small noise. it's high-pitched and whiney, and it almost makes him finish prematurely. he licks eagerly into your mouth to try and draw it out of you again, but you seem to silence yourself from embarrassment. this does not fly with stiles. his knee draws forward and splits your thighs apart, resting in between them, and he moves down to kiss at your neck. he'll make you whine again, he's sure of it.

"wait," you breathe out. he almost doesn't catch it, too busy with the way your skin feel on his lips and how he has you up against his wall, breathless and pliant. but he pulls back (albeit reluctantly) and meets your dazed look with one of his own.

"what? is this okay? do you wanna stop?" he might actually die on the spot if you want to stop. but he'd do it, for you. his hand massages your hip where he's got you gently pinned, and he watches as it visibly makes you sway (swoon, but you'd never admit that).

"no, no. but, your dad-"

"he's out."

"he could get home anytime."

"we can be quick. we don't have to do anything more than this right now."

"stiles," you're laughing at him. it's airy, and mostly just a teasing smile, but you're still laughing at him. "are you just saying that to get me in your bed? i mean..."

your thigh, which is in between his because of his being in between yours, slides up and presses lightly against his hard-on. his jaw goes slack as the unexpected pressure washes pleasure all over his nerves, and his shoulders bend over for a moment as his hips react on their own. he stops himself, thoroughly embarrassed, and glares at you. you giggle behind your hand, raising an eyebrow. "how're you gonna say you don't want anything below the collar with that going on?"

he pushes your thigh away, shaking his head. "i never said i didn't want anything more, i said we don't have to do anything more. plus, you're the one making the noises and touching me and... so, if anything, this isn't even my fault." stiles gestures vaguely to his dick.

"i'm flattered." you deadpan, before your hand trails from his chest to his stomach. he watches in awe, still half disbelieving that he got you here. you hook your fingers into his waistband and look up at him. "promise your dad wont walk in on us?"

"can you not talk about my dad while turning me on?" he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "swear on my life, you have nothing to worry about."

you nod and lean back against the wall, tugging him by his pants to meet you there. he follows suit, lining his body against yours as he kisses you, hands on your hips with yours running through his buzz. he captures your lower lip in his teeth and gently as he can, and you make another short, high-pitched noise again. his dick twitches in his pants.

"you wanna, um," you suck in a breath as he kisses your neck, "move to the bed?"

"yes," he sighs, and immediately pulls your hips forward and directs you to his bed. when you drop onto it and scoot back, stiles hesitates. your hair is a bit messy, lips are full, and your eyes have a glint in them he's never seen before. he's assaulted with the thought of you being his wife and having his kids and growing old and dying together, and then he blinks it away. jesus christ, you're a powerful woman.

he wants to do anything to make you look like this all the time. needy, pretty, all your insecurities and doubts kissed right off of your lips, even if it's just for a bit. is this what being horny is going to be like for him now? is he gonna be a sap when you want to fuck?

stiles crawls over you slowly, laying you back against his pillows. you're excited and it shows, and you're both smiling when he kisses you this time.

☆

he's a mess for days after, head full of the faces you make when he touches you just right, the noises coming from your mouth when you finish. the feeling of skin on skin, the picture perfect look of you wearing his shirt after. it takes scott about two and a half seconds to scrunch up his nose and make a disgusted face at stiles when he starts thinking it. your beauty is just seeping out of him, like he soaked you up and now every werewolf in a one hundred mile radius can smell the lovesick puppy on him.

you want to go on dates, too. real ones, all the time, and you think he's hot and cute and sometimes pretty, which is confusing to him but he likes it anyway. and he wants to save up his money so he can take you to a fancy restaurant. and he is so whipped.

which he's fine with. as long as it's for you. honestly, he's fine with almost anything, as long as it's for you.

☆

i didn't write smut and i apologize but my writing process is to blackout while my fingers fly across my keyboard like i'm a hacker spy until i come to and there's a story on the screen. so. smut didn't happen naturally so it ain't gonna happen at all, i guess. i dunno. ask writing star, not editing star. sorry i've been so absent, holidays is super busy with extended family and such. wish me luck. xoxo!!!

☆

BONUS!! stiles asks some poor soccer girls for help before you went to his house after lacrosse practice. the advice is... really somethin'.

"hey, um, lily?" he had to guess the name of the girl jogging past, but he got it right. she stopped and approached him skeptically, glancing at her two friends in front of her.

"yeah?" she threaded her fingers through the fence as he strided the rest of the distance to her. her two friends had begun making their way over as well. she had to squint past the sun as she stared at him. "what's up?"

"hi, hey, we have bio together. fourth period? i've sat behind you all sememster?"

her face showed no recognition.

"...anyway, i have a question. actually, i can ask all three of you. since you're, um, girls."

her two friends had approached at that point, and looked equally as put off by stiles as lily did. he cleared his throat and started on his ramble:

"so, let's say i'm best friends with this girl, and i like her. like, a lot. and she's kinda totally way out of my leauge, but we never talk about it because she doesn't see things like that anyway. and one day i get on a rant about girls and how confusing they are because, y'know," he gestured to his face like it was a tell of itself, "and she says that my biggest insecurity- err, physically- is actually really hot. and she says my hands are sexy. and my eyes are seductive. and she's like, kinda blushing a lot? but she blushes anyway about stuff around me so it doesn't really-"

"she likes you." one of lily's friends piped up behind her. "if that's what you're asking."

"are you sure? i'm not her type, plus-"

"dude," sighed the other one. the three girls shared a look, making stiles gulp. "girls don't call guys' hands sexy unless they're dying to have them in their mouth."

"mazie!" lily whirled around to slap her friend's shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to censor her. when she turned back to stiles, it was apologetically. "sorry, but she's got a point."

he slumped onto the fence in relief. "you think so? i want to put my hands in her mouth, if she's asking for that."

"nice." mazie nodded as the other two girls made noises of disgust. ignoring them, mazie continued. "honestly, she probably likes you but thinks you don't like her. especially if you're chatting up three soccer girls, looking like that."

the only girl stiles hadn't gotten the name of nodded solemly, and lily put her hands on her hips, determined. "okay, skinhead. how're you gonna confess?"

stiles smiles awkwardly. "uh, i'll just tell her when she comes over tonight?"

lily barked out a laugh, and her two friends followed suit. it was loud, like three crows making fun of him while they toss their heads back. it ended abruptly, too, and lily glared daggers at him in the silence. "no, idiot."

stiles whimpered a little "oh."

"girls love confidence." the unnamed girl declared, tilting her head. "when i flirt with girls i always make them like, say how hot i am. always gets them going."

"god," lily scrunched her nose, "are you both ovulating? we do not need to know all of that."

"so... what should i do?" stiles blinked at them, and they refocused their attention on him.

"be confident. be honest. that's always a rare, and hot, trait in a guy." lily said, before her eyes roved over him analytically. "anyway, you're attractive. it'll be fine."

"he's attractive?" the unnamed girl said, making all three of them laugh again. lily slapped her arm, and stiles let himself get distracted as his eye caught on someone walking across the parking lot.

oh, it's you.

his body feels a bit warmer, buzzing with nervous energy, as he shouts your name.

☆

[bandgie]

Free Use - Hyung Line

maknae line

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, !!free-use is legal and public!!, public sex (duhhh), dry humping, gangbangs (implied), pussy easting, sex photography, reader is called slut

notes: longer version of this ask! to be clear, this is a free-use society so if you're not comfortable with that, don't read it pls! thanks :)

BANGCHAN! - even if it's completely legal to fuck you in public, chan can't bring himself to. your moans, whimpers, cries... those are for his ears (and maybe a few close friends) but that doesn't mean he won't do a few things - main one is arguably dry humping. standing behind you while waiting in a line for some boba and his hands settle on your hips. it's cute at first, but his grip tightens. you'll arch your back further into him because you know what he wants, you can feel it. - he grinds his hips softly on your ass. guiding his cock over your body before sliding it out to put it between your thighs. He breathlessly moans in your ear, one hand moving to grope your chest over your shirt. if he gets really into it, chan will push your head down once you make it to the counter and rut into you like he's actually fucking you and still order. - another that's more intense is when he's working in the studio. he's got you pretty and nice on his lap. Changbin and Han are so used to you riding his thigh that they hardly notice your moans anymore. - no shorts, no underwear. just your bare pussy on his leg while you hump him desperately. in a way, this is more degrading since people will come in and out of the studio, asking for adjustments and adding things to the schedule acting like they can't see you rocking your hips on his flexed thigh. but it still doesn't stop you from quietly pleading for his friends to have a turn too.

"I dunno, babe. I've got a lot of work. Why don't you keep doing this and if you're a good girl, I'll think about it."

MINHO! - total opposite of chan, he is 100% fucking you in public. everyone needs to see how much a slut you are, how much you love being fucked no matter the time of day. just cuz he's a little shit, minho will purposely fuck you in places you're supposed to be quiet. on a bus, a train, the library, the possibilities are endless - the bus though? his favorite. there's so many eyes silently watching him bounce you on his lap. all his has to do is tap his thigh and you know to lift your skirt up and sink onto his cock. no underwear on because why would you? - he wants you to be loud, he wants the people around you to join in. to twist your nipples and shove fingers in your mouth. some people will look at you with disgust wondering why mandated free use is even legal. most will be jealous though, asking minho if you're up for grabs or if you're personal use - and when it's finally your stop, he'll slide out of you and feel the way your pussy clings onto him. a few people might follow you guys until he stops at an alleyway (he has some decency) and bends you over the air.

"You can use any hole you want, but her pussy's mine."

CHANGBIN! - you're public free-use when he first meets you. there's just something about your moans, the way you move your hips, the aroused look in your eye. changbin doesn't usually engage with mandated free-use sluts but you catch his eye right at the start - he'll frequent at the place you do service at and watch most of the time. jerking himself off at the same pace you're bouncing on a cock. but he'll work up the courage and finally take you like he's been wanting to, flipping you around to get a up close view of your face - gosh, you're perfect. fucked out expression, swollen lips, cum dripping down your pretty body. how has no one made you a personal slut yet? changbin taps his fat tip on your clit, watching your body vibrate in overstimulated pleasure - he takes a long time, the people behind him growing impatient, but he doesn't care. you deserve to be praised, to be cherished. your walls are so soft and warm when he slides in, most likely from the previous people fucking you endlessly, but changbin hardly minds the fact. he presses his cock deep in you, feeling your pussy spasm and clench. and when he slides out? he gets to see all of your cream coating his length.

"So pretty. Pretty, pretty girl. You're not personal yet, right? Binnie will take care of you. Binnie can make you feel like this everyday."

HYUNJIN! - even though you're the one who's free-use, hyunjin acts like he is. he always worships you, in or out of the bedroom. he'll bring you to his photoshoots and surprises you with being photographed! the makeup artists and hair dresses doll you up so nice and pretty. you look beautiful, how can Hyunjin stay away? - with the cameras shuttering, he'll get on his knees and hook one of your legs over his shoulder. peeling the dress up to expose your sweet cunt. the makeup artists will scowl since the'll have to redo it and the hairdressers groan when you thread your fingers through his carefully styled hair, but he doesn't care - the photographers will make the best of what they can. there's no use in trying to pry Hyunjin away from you. your pussy tastes too sweet, too inviting on his tongue. so you'll be able to hear the rapid clicks of cameras and see the flashes of light while orgasming in his mouth - it's definitely a little strange to see yourself on the front cover of a magazine with hyunjin between your legs, but it's even stranger that it looks good!

"You look like an angel. You're shy? Don't be shy! You're beautiful, everyone needs to see that."

[astralee]

party pooper

remus lupin x fem!reader

parties are the worst. you decide that after your first ever party with your friends when you’re all pissed off your heads and throwing up. you’d sworn them off forever- well you did until a certain person entered your life.

‘certain person’ goes by the name remus lupin, one of the four marauders. he’s a rather sarcastic boy with a gorgeous smirk that’d knock the socks off of anyone. unfortunately for you, the other 3 marauders were a package deal that came along with your relationship and the package deal love throwing parties.

that’s how you end up here, surrounded by sweaty bodies that are shitfaced and all up over eachother. it’s like hell- scratch that. you’d much prefer hell, but for remus you’ll continue to go to the dreaded parties.

“still feeling alright?” remus quizzed when you shuffled over to stand between his legs. he was sat on the couch and the space next to him was sadly already occupied. “we can get off if you want.”

you’d love that, but remus is surrounded by his friends and he’s having fun. “better than alright, can i have some of your drink?”

wordlessly, he handed you the drink over and watched as you took a sip. when you finished, he had taken it out your hand, shoved it into marlene’s and reached up for you. “remus!” you chided as he gripped your hips and spun you around before pulling you down onto him. “i could’ve flashed the whole room.”

“you didn’t.” marlene chimed in with a goofy smile, she was definitely drunk. “wish you had though- have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?”

“don’t think so, you gonna tell me?” you grinned at her mischievously, the grin turning into somewhat of a smirk as you felt familiar hands roam around your thigh before settling in one place with a squeeze.

marlene grinned back just as cheeky. “can’t.” she worded simply. “think your fella is getting jealous.”

that brought a laugh out between you all, remus had definitely felt a little jealous. “i’m ready to go upstairs.” he brought his mouth to your ear so he could whisper. “shall we?”

“dunno.” you shrugged. “might stay with marlene.” she wasn’t even paying attention to you both anymore, you just loved to tease.

remus chuckled, stretching his hands around your thighs and poking his fingers just a little up your skirt. the pair of you weren’t usually up for a lot of pda but somehow you both end up really affectionate after a sip of alcohol “and your room is a state.”

remus groaned. “you can’t torture me because the boys are messy.” it was true, the three other boys in the room were beyond messy. remus likes to keep things neat, organised around his bed but the walk through the room to his bed is a hazard. “and we hate your room because the blonde girl is always eyeing me up.”

god she was always eyeing him up. you hadn’t even noticed at first, not until remus mentioned it and from then on you always caught the long stares she’d give him. it didn’t make you jealous, remus would never do anything to hurt you but you knew it made him uncomfortable. “alright let’s go up but if it stinks in there i’m not sleeping, okay?”

“it won’t stink.” remus promised. it probably would but there’s nothing a little spell won’t fix up. “come on then love, let’s get in bed.”

the pair of you ignored the loud protest coming from sirius when you announced you were calling it a night, too entranced in eachother to care and so excited you could finally leave the party

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Lonely Nights

Two uploads in one day? I'm cooking. Also inspired by @/shurisneakers grumpy x grumpy works, go check her works out they're amazing

Summary: Attending a party with the man whose whole goal in life seems to be annoying you to no end goes...not exactly as planned

You've lost count of the number of parties Natasha has dragged you to attend. You're pretty sure this is at least the tenth one in the past month, which is ten times more than the number of parties you usually attend. Then again zero times ten is still zero so you're not sure how the math adds up.

Grabbing another glass of whiskey, you stare at the golden liquid swirling around, trying to drown out the noise in the background. Parties really are far too loud for your taste, the only good thing to come out of them is the free flow alcohol that you constantly take advantage of. The drinks taste even better knowing that the tab is on a certain genius playboy billionaire and so at every party you lurk at the bar, inhaling drinks until you get hungover.

Tonight, there's a newcomer — Bucky Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier. Turns out he's Steve's best friend who was thought dead and you have to admit, the brunette is quite the handsome man, although you'd rather die than admit it out loud. He's currently following Sam who seems to be on a mission to talk to a girl for more than a minute, and from the look on his face, quite enjoying the other's multiple failures.

You take another mouth of whiskey and look away, relishing in the way the liquid burns on the way down. Natasha has disappeared, probably to outdrink yet another poor soul, leaving you all alone at the bar counter, not that you mind. You quite like the personal space and lack of need to socialise with another human being, two things that are currently being challenged by a certain brunette you were watching not too long ago.

"Go away."

"I see you've been learning some manners." He leans over to take a glass of whiskey for himself, downing half of it in one go.

"And I see you haven't." You glare at him.

"Maybe you should introduce me to your teacher, I might just learn some manners then." He simply smiles at you.

"Hmph." You turn back to your glass. "So what are you doing here?"

"Was invited to the party by Tony." He swirls his glass before downing the remaining half. "Same as you."

"I can tell. Why are you sitting right next to me after I told you to get lost?"

"I believe you said 'go away', not 'get lost'."

"Same thing." You pinch the bridge of your nose. He was getting on your nerves as always, you sometimes swore he saved all his cheek for you and you alone.

"Nope it isn't. One is asking me to simply leave, the other is asking me to lose all sense of direction —"

"Okay Mr Dictionary, didn't ask you for the difference between 'away' and 'lost'. Why are you still seated next to me?" You grab another glass from a passing waiter and immediately inhale one third of it.

"I'm tired and want to sit down." Bucky shrugs.

"There's plenty of other seats out there." You gesture to where the crowd is.

"Here seemed the most comfy, although the company it offers could use some work." He smirks, biting back an amused huff when you roll your eyes.

"Then go and find company elsewhere."

"But you'll be lonely. As a gentleman, I cannot stand by and let a lovely person such as yourself spend the night alone." He dramatically places a hand over his heart.

"Since when were you a gentleman?" You snort, knocking back more alcohol. You were going to need more if this bastard insisted on spending the rest of the night with you.

"Since the moment I saw you sitting here alone."

"How chivalrous. You want a lordship or something?"

He laughs, reaching over the counter and pulling out a bottle of vodka. "If only you could grant me one."

"Dunno. Could try pulling some strings or something, haven't tried granting anyone a lordship before. First time for everything, am I right?" You toss a bottle opener his way and he catches it, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you have this on you at all times?"

"Swiped it from the waiter just now. Was going to open one myself but since you've already taken one you might as well share. Sharing is caring, right?" You wave a hand.

"Then sharing this bottle would imply I care for you." He pops the cap open and starts chugging.

"Hey! I provided the bottle opener! I deserve some!" You yelp, rising from your seat. He easily dodges your attempts to grab the bottle from him and grins, waving it just out of your reach. Growling, you leap onto the counter and dash along it, successfully swiping the bottle from his surprisingly loose grip. Hopping back down, you gleefully wave the bottle before chugging the remaining liquid inside, letting out a satisfied sigh when not a drop is left.

"I win!" You cheer, laughing. All that alcohol is making you giddy and you lean a little too far backwards, stumbling towards the counter but before you can hit anything, a pair of arms wrap themselves around you, stopping your fall.

"Can't have you dying before granting me that lordship." Bucky grunts, placing you back onto your seat. You try to shove his arms off, making a face when he refuses to let go before resuming your scowl and crossing your arms.

"I'm not dying before you," you huff, annoyed. More importantly, you weren't about to die from a fall when you've survived aliens, gods, superhumans and everything in between.

"Congratulations on surviving purely out of spite all this while. Would you also like a gold medal?" Sarcasm drips heavily from his words.

"I'll take one." You don't miss a beat, even when tipsy. Bucky would admire that, really he would, unfortunately he's on the receiving end of your sass so it's already less admirable because of that. At least him being here means you won't be meeting your end via counters, he would miss all that wit and sarcasm if that were to happen. After laughing at your cause of death.

"Unfortunately I don't have one right now. Mind waiting for a bit, doll?" His lips quirk upwards ever so slightly.

"A gentleman making someone wait? What kind of gentleman are you?" You lift another snagged bottle to your lips, taking a swig.

"One that knows you're caring enough to share that bottle with me." He easily wrestles the half-drunk bottle from you, chugging the rest while keeping you at arms length with his forearm pressed against your chest. "Thank you for your generosity."

"You're not welcome!" You huff, futilely hitting his arm in an attempt to close the gap. He grins, turning the bottle upside down to show you there's not a drop left.

"Asshole." You scowl, gripping his arm tightly.

"My pleasure." His smirk is infuriating and with the alcohol clouding your mind, the moment he drops his arm you close the distance, wiping the smirk off his face with a kiss. Your lips connect and his eyes widen, but he kisses back, his metal arm snaking around your waist while his flesh one pulls you closer so that he can devour you.

Bucky's lips taste of vodka, whiskey and whatever else he drank before being your nuisance and it tastes good. You breathlessly pull away, cheeks flushed and grab a breath before diving back for another round.

"You're a pathetic kisser," you gasp after pulling away for air again.

"And still you want more." He licks his lips, ice blue eyes shining with mirth. "What does that say about you?"

"That I'm going to need to teach you how to kiss."

"Then teach me." He lifts your chin up. "The night's still young."

"Step one: shut up." Your lips crash into his again and he shuts up, savouring the kiss.

"Step two: don't stop." He murmurs, threading his fingers through your hair.

"Step three: eyes on me, only me." You press your forehead against his, feeling his warmth. "Took you forever to kiss me."

"You're the one who took forever, I was always open to it."

"Asshole."

"Idiot."

"You just asked an idiot to be your teacher."

"I don't mind this idiot being my teacher." His thumb runs over your bottom lip. "After all, this idiot is my idiot."

"Hate you."

"Love you too."

[elikajinnie]

You Are My Sunshine - K.S

P: Hufflepuff!Sunoo X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minor Bullying? Fluff, Confessions, Minor Angst.

Synopsis: You were known as the grumpy, closed-off student at Hogwarts, keeping your emotions tightly guarded. That is, until Kim Sunoo, the ever-cheerful Hufflepuff, took it upon himself to brighten your days. With his infectious laughter and unwavering optimism seep into your life, you slowly realize that the warmth of his sunshine is quickly melting away your defenses.

a/n: sorry babes and pooks, this one is kinda short? exams are coming up and i only have a sliver of moment in the commute to and from school to write :) but hope everyone had a nice halloween! (anyone got an idea for Heeseungs slytherin fic?? Im brainstorming over here >:(

masterlist

☀︎⋆｡°·☁︎

You swore you were a nice person. It might not look like it, though—your face and demeanor often gave the opposite impression. You weren’t cold, but you had always been reserved, choosing to keep to yourself more often than not. Because of that, when you first arrived at Hogwarts, you didn’t exactly collect friends the way others seemed to. Only a select few ever got to see how friendly you actually were, but that was only after you decided you could trust them.

So, it came as a surprise—a big surprise—when one afternoon, while you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, deeply immersed in your studies, someone pulled out a chair and sat down right beside you.

Glancing up, you immediately recognized him. Kim Sunoo, the ever-smiling, ever-popular Hufflepuff. His presence was unmistakable, bright as day. His grin was practically beaming, and it momentarily threw you off balance. You blinked, wondering if he had the wrong table.

"Hey!" he greeted, voice light and full of energy. "Mind if I sit here?"

You stared at him blankly, unsure if he was serious or just passing by. He had already sat down, so you didn’t see much point in objecting. After a beat of silence, you returned your attention to the parchment in front of you, figuring the conversation might end there.

It didn’t.

"I’ve seen you around," he continued, undeterred by your lack of response. "You’re really focused when you’re working, huh? Must be nice to be that dedicated. I always get distracted in the library."

Your eyes flicked over to him, giving a small nod but saying nothing. You weren’t used to this—the friendliness so freely given, the casual conversation with someone you barely knew. Your face remained impassive, though inwardly, you were trying to piece together why he of all people was sitting with you. Surely, he had plenty of other, more sociable people to talk to.

Sunoo, however, didn’t seem to mind your quietness. In fact, he just kept going. "I’m terrible at Potions," he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "Professor Snape probably thinks I’m hopeless. I bet you’re good at it, though. You’ve got that… I dunno, that calm, focused vibe."

You couldn’t help but frown a little at that. "Calm, focused vibe?" you echoed, your tone flat.

He grinned even wider, his eyes almost disappearing into crescent moons. "Yeah! You just seem really composed all the time. It’s cool. I get stressed and panicky over every little thing."

"I wouldn’t say I’m always calm," you replied, voice as even as your expression.

Sunoo’s smile didn’t waver. If anything, he looked more pleased that you were finally talking. "See? Even when you’re denying it, you’re calm," he teased, clearly enjoying himself. "You’re like the opposite of me."

You stared at him for a moment, wondering how anyone could be so upbeat all the time. Sunoo’s energy was infectious, even if your face didn’t show it. Still, your brows furrowed slightly as you watched him speak, trying to make sense of why this popular Hufflepuff was suddenly so interested in chatting with you.

"I don’t usually talk much," you pointed out, your tone neutral.

"I noticed," Sunoo replied without missing a beat, completely unfazed. "But I think that’s fine. You don’t need to say a lot to be interesting."

You blinked again, your expression still not giving away the faint surprise you felt at his words. You had expected him to lose interest by now, to move on to someone who would match his energy and conversation style, but he stayed right where he was, grinning like he had just made the best discovery of the day.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there, him smiling, you with your usual stoic expression, and yet, for some reason, it didn’t feel awkward. It was as if Sunoo’s bright presence was enough to fill any potential silence.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "Why are you talking to me?"

His laughter was soft, but genuine. "Why not? You seem interesting."

"I don’t really come across that way," you said, voice deadpan.

Sunoo shrugged, still smiling. "You do to me."

And with that, he leaned back in his chair, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to sit there, in complete contrast to your serious demeanor, radiating warmth and light like a small sun.

☀︎⋆｡°·☁︎

During your next Potions class, you settled into your usual spot toward the back, where the dim light made it easier to focus without distractions. You liked this spot. It was quiet, and you could concentrate without anyone poking their nose into your work. But just as you began setting up your ingredients, you heard a familiar, cheerful voice.

"Mind if I join you?"

You glanced up, almost certain you had imagined it, only to find Kim Sunoo grinning down at you. His presence was the last thing you expected in this class. He was known for sitting up front, surrounded by his usual group, always cracking jokes and flashing that bright smile.

Sunoo slid into the seat beside you before you could respond, giving you an easy, friendly smile as he began organizing his ingredients. "I thought maybe if I sat by you, Professor Snape might be a little more… forgiving?" he whispered, his tone hopeful.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Why would he be?"

"Well," he said, leaning in slightly as if sharing a great secret, "he likes you. Haven't you noticed? He doesn’t scowl as much when you’re around. I figured maybe I could absorb some of your calm, composed energy," he added, making an exaggerated face of concentration as if he were already channeling your stoic look.

You couldn’t help but let a small, amused huff escape. “If that’s your plan, I wouldn’t count on it working.”

Sunoo smiled wider, undeterred. "Worth a shot, right?"

As if on cue, Snape swept into the classroom, his dark robes billowing behind him. His eyes scanned the room with that usual, critical glint before landing on you and Sunoo. He paused, visibly surprised to see the two of you sitting together, but instead of saying anything, he gave a curt nod and moved on, barking instructions for today’s lesson.

You gave Sunoo a sidelong glance as he visibly relaxed. “See? I think it’s working already,” he whispered, giving you a thumbs-up under the table. “He didn’t even glare!”

You rolled your eyes. "He didn't glare because he’s focused on starting class. Don't think you're off the hook."

Sunoo just shrugged, a bit of humor still glinting in his eyes. “I don’t mind. Besides, you’re probably good at Potions, right? You could even help me. Professor Snape can’t get mad if you’re the one teaching me, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works. But sure… as long as you don’t blow anything up.”

Sunoo grinned again, nudging you playfully with his elbow. "Deal."

As the lesson began, you quickly noticed that Sunoo seemed determined to keep up, his usual playful energy tempered as he looked over his cauldron with an unexpected intensity. It was strange to see him so focused, but oddly gratifying, knowing he was genuinely trying.

"Okay," you whispered, leaning over to show him your carefully arranged ingredients. "For this Draught of Peace, every step has to be precise. Start by adding the powdered moonstone, but remember to stir counterclockwise three times after each pinch."

Sunoo glanced at you, his face serious as he nodded. "Three times, counterclockwise. Got it." He leaned forward, following your lead and adding the powder in controlled amounts. His usual talkative nature was nowhere to be seen, replaced by an almost endearing determination to get it right.

When he looked back at you for the next step, you raised an eyebrow, testing him. "What’s next, then?”

He bit his lip, thinking hard. "Uh, lacewing flies… right? Only one… no, two wings, torn lengthwise?"

"Not bad," you said, impressed. “See? You’re actually getting it."

He smiled sheepishly, keeping his eyes on his work as he carefully placed the ingredients in the cauldron. "Only because you’re explaining it in a way that makes sense," he admitted, glancing at you. "Potions books make it sound way too complicated."

You had to admit, seeing him genuinely engaged in learning something he found difficult felt surprisingly rewarding. “It’s only complicated if you rush,” you explained, “so take your time with this part. And make sure to add a clockwise stir after each wing.”

He mirrored your movements, handling each step as carefully as he could manage, clearly hanging onto each of your instructions. When he managed to mix everything without a hitch, he turned to you, his face beaming. “Look, it’s actually working. It’s not grey!”

You gave him an approving nod. “See? As long as you follow the instructions and stay focused, you’re fine.”

"Well, when you put it like that, it’s not so scary," he murmured, watching as the liquid turned a gentle blue.

"Now, simmer it for ten minutes," you said, leaning back in your chair. "And keep an eye on the bubbles—they should stay small and steady."

He sighed in relief, clearly grateful for the help. "You have no idea how much easier that makes things."

When you caught his eye, he grinned. "If I sit next to you every Potions class, you won’t mind, right?"

You paused at his question, thrown off by how quickly he’d asked it. Sunoo had a way of being open and friendly with everyone, but this… well, this felt different. You weren’t sure what he was really after, and his sudden interest in sitting with you felt almost too friendly.

So, you just shrugged, keeping your face neutral. “If you want to,” you replied, glancing back at your own cauldron.

Sunoo watched you for a moment, seeming to notice your hesitation. But instead of getting discouraged, he just gave a small laugh, scratching the back of his head. “You don’t mind, right? I mean… you’re not gonna hex me or anything?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but his teasing smirk showed he was only joking. “No,” you said, “Not unless you mess up the potion.”

He chuckled, apparently finding your reaction funny. "Alright, noted," he replied, nudging his cauldron carefully as he checked the simmering liquid. “Guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior then.”

For the rest of class, he kept close by your side, following each instruction you gave him with an unusual attentiveness. He even managed to complete the potion almost perfectly. When Snape passed by, he raised an eyebrow at Sunoo’s work but said nothing, which was the highest praise he could give.

As you cleaned up at the end of class, Sunoo packed his things slowly, glancing over at you. “Thanks for the help,” he said, smiling warmly. “Not sure I could’ve done that without you.”

You simply nodded, unsure of what to say, but he seemed content with the small gesture. As he turned to leave, he glanced back one more time. “See you next class?”

“Yeah… sure,” you replied, giving a half-shrug.

As he left, you couldn’t help but feel a little curious. Sunoo’s interest in sitting with you still felt unexpected.

☀︎⋆｡°·☁︎

Days turned into weeks, and Sunoo became a near-constant presence by your side. Whether it was Potions, lunch in the Great Hall, or even the occasional study session in the library, he always seemed to find his way over to you, plopping down with that familiar grin and easy energy that contrasted so starkly with your laid-back demeanor.

At first, you thought maybe he’d get bored, or that your lack of enthusiasm might wear him down. But Sunoo was nothing if not persistent. No matter how often you shrugged at his questions or gave him short, deadpan responses, he just laughed it off, acting as though he’d known you forever. And even though you never rejected his company outright, you never really encouraged it either. Not that Sunoo seemed to care.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the library, a familiar routine now: books spread out, your head bent over an assignment you were half-heartedly working on. The sound of footsteps made you glance up, and sure enough, there he was—Sunoo, grinning, holding two mugs of butterbeer from the kitchens.

“Thought you could use one,” he said, sliding it across the table to you.

You gave a halfhearted sigh, accepting it anyway. “You know, you don’t have to keep showing up like this. Don’t you have other friends?”

He shrugged, unfazed. “Sure, but I like hanging out with you. Plus, you’re surprisingly easy to talk to, you know?”

“Is that right,” you said, taking a sip of the butterbeer, trying to keep your face neutral. “And here I thought I was terrible company.”

“Hardly,” he replied with a grin, leaning in like he was letting you in on a secret. “I think you’re interesting, even if you act like you don’t care. And… I think you like my company, too.”

You huffed, looking away. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He laughed, “Alright, alright. I’ll leave it at that. But you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

You hid a smile behind your hand, feeling an unexpected warmth from his words.

As days passed, Sunoo continued to be your constant shadow, sticking to you like he belonged there. Whenever he leaned in close to explain something exciting or nudged your shoulder to get your attention, you didn’t push him away. Not even a grumble. And soon enough, people began to notice—whispers trailing behind the two of you whenever you entered a room together.

"Are they really that close now?" someone muttered one afternoon in the library, eyeing the way Sunoo leaned over to show you a funny illustration in his book.

"They’re, like… polar opposites," another whispered, watching you with open curiosity, clearly baffled at how you, the reserved one with a permanent poker face, had Sunoo—the endlessly friendly, sunny Hufflepuff—so close.

The attention might have bothered you once, but Sunoo’s influence seemed to have rubbed off on you. You were a little more relaxed, even when people stared or asked questions. Sunoo’s laughter or his quick jokes were enough to break the awkwardness you might’ve once felt, and strangely enough, you’d even found yourself talking to more people—not necessarily by choice, but because he kept introducing you to others.

One evening, you were sitting in the library with one of your closer friends. They’d known you for years and were one of the few who really understood you. As Sunoo wandered over to grab a book from the shelves nearby, your friend leaned in with a small smile.

“You know, it’s funny,” they said quietly, eyeing you with amusement. “You and Sunoo… you balance each other out. Like, he brings you out of your comfort zone with all these people and conversations, and you, well… you help him calm down and focus more.”

You raised an eyebrow, a bit skeptical. “Sunoo? Focused?”

Your friend chuckled. “More than you’d think. Have you noticed how much more serious he’s been in Potions lately? And he actually sits through an entire library study session without talking your ear off.”

You shrugged, not wanting to admit just how true it was. “Maybe he’s just getting better at Potions.”

“Sure,” they replied, giving you a knowing look. “And maybe you’re just getting more social.”

You huffed, looking away to hide a small, reluctant smile. It was true that Sunoo had brought a new energy to your life, and whether you liked it or not, you’d changed a little since he’d attached himself to you. You actually found yourself looking forward to his presence. He made things… lighter.

Just then, Sunoo bounded over, oblivious to the conversation you’d been having. He plopped down beside you, smiling as usual. “Hey! Did you know they added a new dessert in the kitchens? We have to go try it later!”

Your friend shot you a look, clearly delighted by the way you barely rolled your eyes before nodding. “Fine,” you replied. “But you’re bringing it back here. I’m not going all the way to the kitchens.”

Sunoo’s smile only grew. “Deal. You’re finally starting to admit you like spending time with me, huh?”

You scoffed, looking away to hide the faint warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Don’t push it.”

But the truth was undeniable, and both your friend and Sunoo could see it: somehow, the two of you had found a balance.

It didn’t take long for you to realize just how well Sunoo had come to understand you. He could somehow sense when your patience was wearing thin, when you’d been around people for too long and needed to be left alone. Whenever he picked up on your waning energy, he would offer you a small, knowing smile, give you a light squeeze on the shoulder, and let you be. No questions asked, no lingering around to wait you out—he just knew.

And maybe, in some way, you’d learned to pick up on his cues, too. Sunoo, who was normally all bright smiles and endless chatter, had quiet days—moments when his laughter would be softer, his eyes a little distant, his usual warmth feeling dimmed. At first, you didn’t know what to make of it, but eventually, you realized what he needed. So, whenever he’d get that faraway look, you’d make an extra effort to bring a bit of lightness back into his world.

Like the time you found him sitting by the lake, lost in thought as he absently trailed his fingers through the water. Without a word, you’d sat beside him and started retelling one of Snape’s more ridiculous lectures with a deadpan voice, mimicking Snape’s mannerisms in a way that finally drew a soft, genuine laugh from Sunoo.

“You’re pretty funny when you want to be,” he had said, nudging your shoulder as his smile returned.

“Just don’t get used to it,” you replied, but you couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping onto your face.

And it did go both ways. Sometimes you’d notice his plate looking a little too empty at dinner, and without a word, you’d sneak extra food onto it, nudging it his way until he ate. On the mornings he’d wander into class looking groggy and starving from skipping breakfast, you’d casually slide a piece of toast or a muffin over to him without drawing any attention, not even acknowledging it as he glanced at you in surprise, a grateful look in his eyes.

Once, he’d shown up in the library just before lunch, clearly worn down from a long morning of classes. His face lit up as he saw you, but before he could say anything, you pulled a sandwich from your bag and held it out to him, rolling your eyes as he grinned.

“Eat,” you ordered, trying not to smile at the way he accepted it.

“You’re seriously the best,” he said between bites, eyes shining with gratitude.

You shrugged, not making a big deal of it. “Just don’t skip meals.”

As much as Sunoo’s constant presence had once felt overwhelming, you couldn’t deny how natural it had become. He was someone you didn’t mind looking after, just as he looked after you in his own way. And even though you still hadn’t outright admitted how much he’d come to mean to you, you knew he could feel it.

After all, Sunoo seemed to understand you better than you’d ever expected.

☀︎⋆｡°·☁︎

On a Thursday, right as you and Sunoo were walking down the hall from Potions, laughing quietly about some ridiculous mistake he’d made when a group of students passed by, whispering just loud enough for you to hear.

“Can’t believe those two are always together,” one of them sneered, glancing your way. “I don’t get what Sunoo sees in someone so… cold.”

“Yeah, must be a pity friendship,” another scoffed. “Who’d actually choose to hang around someone like that?”

The words hit you harder than you’d like to admit. You clenched your fists, feeling your cheeks grow hot with anger. Before you knew it, you were turning toward them, words already forming on your tongue.

But then, you felt a soft tug on your arm—Sunoo, pulling you back. His expression was a mix of concern and pleading, his hand gripping yours tightly.

“Don’t,” he whispered urgently, shaking his head. “They’re not worth it. Just… let it go, okay?”

But their words kept echoing in your mind, growing louder, and something about the way they’d insulted not only you but Sunoo too, made your blood boil. You could see how Sunoo was trying to brush it off, but the hurt flashed briefly in his eyes, even if he was trying to hide it.

“No,” you said firmly, ignoring his hold as you spun back around, voice sharp as you yelled after them. “Got something to say? How about you say it to our faces instead of acting like cowards?”

The group turned, surprised by your outburst, and you could see them tense, unprepared for confrontation. They exchanged uneasy looks before one of them, bolder than the others, sneered. “We’re just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

“Then let me make one thing clear,” you shot back, holding their gaze with an intensity that made them falter. “Sunoo is a hundred times the person any of you will ever be. So maybe you’re the ones who should keep quiet.”

They shifted, looking caught off guard. When they finally muttered a weak insult under their breath and walked off, you turned back to Sunoo, your anger still simmering.

Sunoo was watching you, eyes wide, a mixture of shock and something else—something soft and grateful—shining in his expression. He let out a breath, chuckling as he shook his head. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

You shrugged, still fuming, but now a little embarrassed at how strongly you’d reacted. “They don’t get to talk about us like that.”

Sunoo’s smile widened, and he squeezed your hand, which you’d forgotten he was still holding, looking at you with a warmth that seemed to melt away the remnants of your anger.

The hallway felt strangely empty around you, and though you didn’t say anything, the look you gave him said everything you couldn’t put into words.

☀︎⋆｡°·☁︎

You and Sunoo became a regular sight around Hogwarts: you, with your usual deadpan expression and arms crossed, and Sunoo practically glowing with happiness beside you. Wherever he went, you seemed to follow, trailing a few paces behind with that ever-present poker face, while he chatted, laughed, and animatedly waved to anyone who passed.

There were days when Sunoo would drag you into random "adventures" across the castle, whether it was sneaking into the kitchens to grab snacks or daring you to climb one of the tall staircases to see if you could spot your common room window.

Like that time he convinced you to join him on an impromptu “mission” to see if the Fat Friar really could pass through walls from the sixth-floor corridor to the third-floor hallway. Somehow, he managed to get you to run after the ghost with him, dodging curious glances from students and teachers alike. Sunoo had laughed himself silly when you reached the third floor out of breath, pointing out the tiny, genuine grin that slipped onto your face as he panted beside you.

"Look, they’re smiling!" someone had gasped, and Sunoo turned with a proud grin, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “See? You just needed a little fun.”

You promptly rolled your eyes, but you didn't shrug him off. “I don’t know if chasing ghosts counts as fun,” you muttered, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you with the smallest smirk.

Then, there was the time Sunoo found out you’d never tried a Sugar Quill and insisted on “fixing this tragedy.” He dragged you down to Hogsmeade, where he bought you not one but two Sugar Quills, then made a show of pulling a face as he pretended to judge your expression with every lick. Even though you mostly kept your deadpan look, he saw right through you, laughing as you admitted they were “better than expected.”

“Wait, was that a compliment?” he teased, eyes wide in mock surprise.

You rolled your eyes, biting the end of the quill. “Don’t get used to it.”

But the most notable reactions always came during the quieter moments—the times Sunoo would ramble on about something, and you’d listen quietly, only to get caught off-guard by his laugh or one of his jokes, and let a smile slip. Whenever someone noticed, they’d gape in shock, like they’d just seen something truly unbelievable.

Like when you two were sitting by the Black Lake, and Sunoo was telling some ridiculous story about how he once tried to turn the Great Hall’s chandelier into a disco ball for a party idea (though, predictably, he’d been caught). You tried to hold it in, but a soft chuckle slipped out anyway. One nearby student stared so openly that Sunoo caught it too, and immediately grinned, elbowing you.

“See? People can’t believe their eyes. They probably think you’re a statue brought to life,” he teased, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

You gave him a flat look, but the tiny smile wouldn’t leave your face. “Maybe it’s you who’s bringing me to life,” you replied dryly, just to see him blush.

The two of you were a study in contrasts—your stoic, steady presence beside Sunoo’s unstoppable, bubbly energy. But somehow, people started catching those small, fleeting moments when you softened around him, when he made you smile in spite of yourself. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you liked that he was the one who could bring that out in you.

Life with Sunoo by your side continued to be an endless series of unexpected twists, each one gradually chipping away at your grumpy exterior. He had this strange ability to draw out parts of you that you’d long kept hidden, surprising even yourself in the process. And, somehow, you didn’t mind it as much as you thought you would.

One afternoon, Sunoo decided it was "absolutely necessary" to take you to the Owlery to see a particular baby owl he’d become fond of. “You’ll love it, I swear,” he insisted, dragging you up the steps. And despite your half-hearted grumbles about climbing “unnecessary stairs,” you found yourself actually smiling when the little owl pecked his hand affectionately. When Sunoo turned and caught the tiny smile on your face, he gasped dramatically.

“Stop the press!” he said loudly enough to echo through the Owlery. “They do have a heart!”

“Careful, or I’ll stop coming along to your ridiculous little outings,” you muttered, though the hint of amusement in your voice was hard to ignore.

“Oh, please,” Sunoo scoffed, looping an arm through yours as you both made your way back down. “You love every second of my company.”

You didn’t answer, but your silence was all the confirmation he needed.

Another time, during a Transfiguration lesson, you found yourself paired with Sunoo for a particularly tricky assignment. Sunoo, naturally, was struggling to concentrate, his wand movements lazy and absent-minded as he kept nudging you with random observations. “Did you know Professor McGonagall has a favorite cat?” he whispered, eyes wide.

“Focus,” you deadpanned, though the corners of your mouth twitched as you tried to stifle a smile.

Seeing your reaction, he grinned, adjusting his stance and mirroring your serious expression in an exaggerated way. “Like this?” he asked, mimicking your look perfectly.

You couldn’t hold it in this time—a small, genuine laugh escaped you, shocking the students around you. Even McGonagall raised an eyebrow, glancing over her spectacles. “Good to see you finding joy in Transfiguration, for once,” she said with a rare smile.

When class ended, Sunoo was practically beaming. “See? I’m finally getting you to open up,” he said, walking beside you with that familiar, almost blinding smile.

“Don’t push your luck,” you warned, but he only laughed, knowing you didn’t really mean it.

And every now and then, you’d catch students around the castle gawking when Sunoo would lean in close, pointing out something funny on a page or whispering a joke that would make your stone-cold demeanor soften for just a second. They couldn’t believe it, seeing you actually smiling or laughing in response to his antics.

One evening in the library, you were finishing up some homework while Sunoo sat beside you, absently doodling on parchment. He glanced over at you, tapping his quill on the desk.

“So,” he started, a little softer this time, “when did I officially become your friend?”

You didn’t look up, but your lips tugged upward slightly. “Guess it was the day you decided not to leave me alone,” you replied.

Sunoo grinned, leaning his head against your shoulder with a sigh. “Good thing I’m stubborn.”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t move away, either. In fact, the small smile you wore spoke more than words ever could.

☀︎⋆｡°·☁︎

One quiet afternoon, you and Sunoo found yourselves sitting by the Black Lake. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the water, and for once, there were no interruptions, no curious glances from other students. It was just the two of you, enjoying the peace and each other's company.

Sunoo had been unusually silent for a while, lost in thought as he skipped stones across the lake. Finally, he turned to you, his expression more serious than usual. “Hey,” he began softly, “can I ask you something?”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, what’s up?”

He hesitated, biting his lip before speaking again. “Why don’t you smile much around people? I mean, you smile a lot when it’s just us, but with others… it’s like you shut down.”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. You stared out at the water, watching the ripples dance across the surface as you gathered your thoughts. Finally, you sighed, deciding to share a piece of your past that you rarely talked about.

“It’s not that I don’t want to smile,” you began slowly, choosing your words carefully. “I thought I had people I could rely on,” you continued, still keeping your gaze down, staring at the grass as though it held all the answers. “But things changed. They either weren’t there when I needed them most, or…” You trailed off, not quite able to voice the ways people had let you down. “It’s like they didn’t care as much as I thought they did. I felt stupid for ever trusting them.”

Your voice was barely a whisper by the end, but you forced yourself to keep going, feeling the weight of your words start to lighten as you let them out. “After that, I just… learned to be careful. I figured if I didn’t let people in, they couldn’t hurt me. So I stopped smiling so much. I thought maybe if I looked… unapproachable, people would keep their distance. And for the most part, they did.”

Sunoo gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said quietly, his voice laced with genuine empathy. “People can be selfish, and sometimes they don’t realize how their actions affect others. But I hope you know not everyone is like that.”

A lump formed in your throat at his words, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. “I know,” you replied, though your voice shook slightly. “It’s just hard to remember that sometimes. I didn’t want to risk getting hurt again, so… shutting people out seemed like the safest option.”

Sunoo shifted a little closer, his warmth a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone. “You know,” he began, voice gentle, “I had my own fair share of people who weren’t exactly the best, too. It hurt, and yeah, I thought about closing myself off sometimes. But then I thought, what if I missed out on someone who really could be a good friend?”

You looked over at him, catching the soft vulnerability in his eyes. “I guess that’s why you’re so… friendly,” you said, almost teasing but more thoughtful than anything. “You don’t want to miss out on the good people out there.”

He smiled, nodding. “Exactly. And… I knew you were different, you know. Even if you didn’t smile much, even if you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else than around people, I could just tell. That there was more to you. And look,” he added with a grin, “I was right.”

A laugh slipped out before you could stop it, a genuine one, and you shook your head at his optimism. “Guess you were,” you admitted, a little sheepishly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you putting up with me, though.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours. “I knew there was something worth sticking around for. Even if you tried to hide it.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you couldn’t help but feel a small surge of warmth. Sunoo hadn’t just pushed past your walls; he’d done it so gently, with such patience, that you hardly realized when you’d stopped trying to keep him out.

“Thanks for… sticking around,” you said, voice quiet, the sincerity in your words a stark contrast to your usual deadpan tone.

“Anytime,” he replied, a soft smile playing at his lips as he looked out at the lake. Then, after a beat, he added, “Besides, I like having someone around who gets me. You know how I can get lost in my own thoughts sometimes. You’re always there to pull me back.”

You both shared a comfortable silence, the kind you could only have with someone who truly understood you. After a while, you finally spoke again. “I guess I kind of forgot how nice it feels to let someone in.”

Sunoo nodded, a content smile on his face. “I’m glad you trusted me with that,” he said softly. “And… I hope you know I’ll never do anything to hurt you. Promise.”

You turned to him, meeting his gaze, and for once, you let down every wall and allowed yourself to believe him. “I believe you.”

He grinned, looking both relieved and happy. “Good. Because I plan on being around for a long time, whether you like it or not.”

Rolling your eyes, you felt the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips once again. But this time, you didn’t fight it. “Guess I don’t really have a choice, huh?”

“Nope,” he replied cheerfully, leaning his head against your shoulder with a sigh. “I’m a very stubborn person, you know.”

Sunoo’s smile was soft and reassuring, his eyes shining.“I promise, I’ll never do anything to hurt you. You’re stuck with me now, whether you like it or not.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, a genuine smile breaking through your usual guarded expression. “I guess I can live with that.”

Sunoo grinned, leaning in a bit closer. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

☀︎⋆｡°·☁︎

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment it happened, the gradual shift from seeing Sunoo as just that kind, bubbly Hufflepuff who wouldn’t leave you alone, to… this. Somewhere in the days spent with him at your side, with his laugh brightening even your most tired moments, Sunoo had become more than just a friend.

It hit you unexpectedly one day, as you leaned against a stone wall in the courtyard, watching from afar while he chatted with a group of other students. He was laughing, the sound rich and clear as he threw his head back, eyes crinkling in a way that made him look almost ethereal. His presence lit up the entire courtyard, as if he were some rare creature, something precious that didn’t quite belong to the harshness of the real world.

For a second, you wondered how someone like him—so pure, so effortlessly kind and happy—had come to talk to you, much less stick around. And as the thought lingered, you felt an ache in your chest you hadn’t expected. Because no matter how close you’d gotten, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sunoo was somehow beyond your reach.

He caught sight of you then, his gaze shifting from the others to land directly on you, and his face lit up even more, a broad grin spreading across his features. You blinked, feeling warmth bloom inside you as he broke away from the group, jogging over to where you stood.

“You just standing there, brooding?” he teased, his eyes glinting with playful mischief as he nudged your shoulder.

You huffed, trying to shake off the thought that had just been consuming you. “Maybe. Someone’s gotta keep the aesthetic,” you muttered, lips curling in a faint smirk.

But as he laughed, the sound tugging at something deep inside you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see you the way you were beginning to see him. If he’d ever feel that same tug of warmth and longing when he looked at you.

“What?” Sunoo asked, tilting his head when he noticed you staring.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, looking away to hide the hint of pink creeping up your cheeks.

The days turned into weeks, and while Sunoo’s cheerful presence continued to brighten your life, you found yourself slipping back into familiar habits. Each time you spotted him surrounded by large groups of people, laughing and joking with ease, an unsettling fear began to take root in your chest. You pulled away, convinced that you would inevitably reveal too much—your feelings for him slipping through the cracks, leaving you vulnerable in front of everyone.

It wasn’t that you wanted to distance yourself from Sunoo; rather, it was the overwhelming dread of accidentally exposing your heart that made you withdraw. You’d sit on the sidelines, pretending to be absorbed in your own conversations or buried in a book, watching him from afar with a mix of longing and anxiety. Each time he glanced your way, a bolt of panic shot through you, and you’d quickly look away, heart racing at the thought of what he might see in your eyes.

You told yourself it was fine, that you needed space—that it was safer to watch him from afar, to keep things simple and keep your feelings hidden.

But that was easier said than done. Every time he’d glance over with that bright, hopeful smile, a pang of guilt and longing would settle in your chest. You’d nod in acknowledgment, force a small wave, and then slip away, heart hammering as you went.

And of course, Sunoo noticed.

One evening, when you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, a familiar figure appeared beside you. Sunoo slid into the seat, watching you with a curious, slightly hurt expression. "You’re avoiding me," he said softly, cutting right to the point.

You didn’t look up, keeping your focus on the parchment in front of you, hoping he wouldn’t press. “No, I’m just… busy. Lots of work,” you mumbled, hoping that would satisfy him.

“Really?” he asked, his voice edged with disbelief. “Because you used to tell me when things were bothering you. Now, it’s like… like I don’t even know what’s going on with you.” His tone was tinged with hurt, and you felt it like a weight in your chest.

“I’m fine, Sunoo. Really,” you replied with a weak shrug, not daring to meet his eyes. You knew if you did, he’d see right through you.

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Don’t do that,” he pleaded, his voice wavering. “Don’t push me away. I thought… I thought we’d built something together, you know? Something real. I want to be there for you, but you have to let me in.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart pound painfully. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

He leaned closer, his voice filled with an unfamiliar urgency. “Then let me in on the ‘complicated.’ I don’t want you to hide from me. Please, talk to me.”

You clenched your jaw, still not meeting his gaze. You could feel his intensity, his genuine care, and it tore you up inside. “Sunoo, just… drop it,” you said, voice quieter than you intended.

But he didn’t drop it. “Why won’t you just be real with me?” he nearly begged, his tone raw and vulnerable. “I hate seeing you shut yourself off like this. I hate that you’re just… disappearing. It’s like I’m losing you, and I don’t understand why. I thought we were closer than this.”

A pang of frustration bubbled up. He didn’t understand because you’d kept him in the dark, because you were afraid he’d never feel the same way. You had no right to be upset, but it hurt too much to bear alone any longer.

“Because, Sunoo!” you said, your voice rising. “Because I… I have feelings for you, alright?”

As soon as the words were out, your hand flew to your mouth in shock, eyes widening at what you’d just revealed. You stared at him, feeling a mixture of panic and regret swell up as the weight of what you’d just said settled between you.

You half-expected to see shock or pity on his face, but instead, Sunoo’s expression softened. Slowly, a smile spread across his lips, one of genuine happiness and warmth, lighting up his entire face.

“Do you… do you really feel that way?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper as if he didn’t quite believe his own ears.

Face burning, you nodded, too afraid to meet his eyes but not wanting to take the words back. “Yeah. I do,” you replied, voice quiet, feeling both relieved and terrified.

Without another word, Sunoo’s hands reached for yours, pulling you close. He looked at you with a joy that you hadn’t seen in him before, his eyes practically glowing. “I’ve liked you for so long,” he admitted softly, almost shyly. “You’re everything I wanted but thought I’d never have.”

You blinked, your breath catching as his words sank in. “Really?”

He nodded, grinning even wider as he held your gaze. “Yes. So… don’t pull away from me, okay? I want to be there with you, through everything.”

Still in shock, you finally let yourself breathe. Then, with a shaky smile, you whispered, “Okay.”

Sunoo’s face lit up, and he pulled you into a warm embrace, holding you close as if he’d never let go. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself relax, feeling the weight of your guarded heart ease as you leaned into him.

Sunoo’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of excitement and hesitation. “Can I… kiss you?” he asked softly.

You didn’t need to think twice. Instead of answering verbally, you leaned in closer, closing the distance between you until your lips met his. The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle brush of warmth and sweetness, but it quickly deepened as Sunoo responded, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck, cradling you closer.

Every nerve in your body tingled as you kissed him back, the sensation blooming inside you like fireworks. It felt right, like a missing piece finally falling into place. Sunoo’s lips were soft against yours, and the world melted away—there was no noise, no crowd, just the two of you.

As he deepened the kiss, you felt yourself melt against him, your worries and fears dissipating like morning mist in the sunlight. Sunoo pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless and a little stunned.

“Wow,” he breathed, his eyes sparkling with delight. “That was… amazing.”

You chuckled softly, still feeling a rush of warmth and happiness coursing through you. “Yeah, it really was.”

“Can we do that again?” he asked, a playful glint in his eye, and you couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Definitely,” you replied, heart racing with a mix of excitement and newfound affection.

With a grin, he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his, and you both fell into the rhythm of each other’s movements, the kiss growing more confident this time. It was a sweet, tender connection that spoke of the trust and understanding you’d built, a promise of what was to come.

As you pulled away again, your cheeks flushed, you couldn’t help but laugh at how easy it felt, how natural. “I can’t believe we waited this long,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know, right?” Sunoo replied, still beaming. “But I’m glad we finally did.” He paused, a seriousness creeping into his expression. “I really like you, you know. I’ve wanted to say it for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you off.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, and you smiled softly. “You didn’t scare me off, Sunoo. If anything, you made me realize how much I needed you in my life.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Then let’s keep making these memories, yeah? I want to know everything about you. All the good stuff and the not-so-good stuff. I want to be the one you trust.”

“Deal,” you replied, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. “And I’ll try to be more open, I promise.”

“Good,” he said, and with a playful nudge, he added, “And maybe I’ll even get you to smile more often.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that broke through. “Maybe. But only if you keep being so ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is my specialty,” he laughed, and as the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this new chapter in your life—a chapter filled with laughter, trust, and the thrill of discovering each other.

[weaselandfriends]

The Making Of: When I Win the World Ends

(For my previous Making Of post, see The Making Of: Cleveland Quixotic.)

I. 1999

It was the year of the cubicle movie. It was the year of Fight Club, of Office Space, of Being John Malkovich, of Three Kings, of The Matrix, and of American Beauty. It was the year of suburban malaise, of eternal sunshine, of ceaseless normality. A year of United States hegemony; a year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.

Before the millennium turned and the towers fell, there was an initial challenge to this order, a completely inconsequential one made consequential by a newly minted 24/7 news media machine running out of noise to fill dead air now that people were sick to bursting of the Clinton impeachment. This challenge came not through war, revolution, or violence, but through entertainment. Children's entertainment.

And I was a child. Unaware of any cultural context, I knew only one thing: I loved Pokémon. I really, really loved Pokémon.

I owned Red Version, Blue Version, Yellow Version, Pokémon Pinball, Pokémon Stadium, Pokémon Snap, Hey You Pikachu, a Pokémon Tetris sort of puzzle game, even the Pokémon TCG game for Gameboy. I had ten to fifteen strategy guides for the games, an encyclopedia of the 151 Pokémon, a choose your own adventure book, an I Spy-style book. I had Pokémon figurines, Pokémon plushies, toy Poké Balls, toy Pokédexes. I had Pokémon stamps and Pokémon stickers and a deck of Pokémon cards. Not trading cards, just a standard 52-card deck with Pokémon pictures on it. Of course I also had the trading cards. A complete set of the first three runs, plus a special Mew card you could get from I dunno Toys R Us or something as part of some promotion. I had a guide for the card game that explained which cards were good or bad even though I didn't even play the card game. I had a Pokémon Tamagotchi and Pokémon pencils and Pokémon erasers and Ash Ketchum's hat and I dressed up as Ash Ketchum for Halloween. Of course I watched every episode of the anime, and in notebooks I drew doodles of existing Pokémon and came up with names for new Pokémon. My father had died that year.

My father was a sports fanatic. Traditional sports. He, too, collected. Sports memorabilia, baseball cards, figures of famous stars. When I was an infant, he drove me on a cross country road trip to Lambeau Field in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where I became a part owner of the Green Bay Packers. He had always wanted me to grow up and pursue professional sports. When I was born, the doctor apparently said to start looking for football colleges, a quote he saved in a scrapbook of baby photos. He had played sports himself, in college; he was a baseball catcher, until a hitter accidentally struck him in the head with a full force swing.

Almost everything I personally remember about him involves him dying. He was sick for a long time, and I remember hospitals and hospital beds and strange smells and gauze. And then one day my mother told me he died.

He was a charismatic man, very social and very popular. He had many friends and a lot of family, all of whom had constantly been around our house. Once he was gone, they stopped coming around. Then it was just me and my mother, who was not a fanatic for anything, except maybe her job as an elementary school teacher, which consumed her time as she assiduously prepared lesson plans and graded tests until late at night. When my father died, she got into some argument with his side of the family, the details of which I still don't fully understand, and afterward they no longer spoke. Her own family lived far away, out-of-state, seen only at Christmas. The house became quiet.

And I… played… Pokémon.

II. The Electric Tale of Pikachu

Toshihiro Ono was a mangaka primarily known for shotacon and futanari hentai. His credits such as Innyou Megami and Anal Justice made him a no-brainer pick for the officially licensed Pokémon manga, Electric Tale of Pikachu, as it too would feature a 10-year-old boy as the protagonist.

This manga would be the foundation for my conception of what Pokémon was, narratively. Though I also had the Pokémon Adventures manga that ran concurrently and which has by now long outlasted it, Electric Tale left a significantly deeper imprint on my memory.

In summary, Electric Tale is a retelling of the first two seasons of the anime. Ash Ketchum is the main character, he's accompanied by Misty and later Brock, his rival is Gary, and Team Rocket harangues him.

What sets Electric Tale apart is its tone, which is far more adult than Adventures and the anime. Obviously, part of this comes from the author's primary area of expertise being hentai. Even in the censored English version, there is a sense of sexual playfulness in how every single female character is an older woman who likes to tease Ash about his romantic interests.

But there are other elements that creep in unrelated to sex, due to the perspective of someone only used to speaking to adults who suddenly has to speak to children. Ono doesn't really get the childish fantasy of leaving at 10 being normal in society, so he introduces an element where Ash can only get a one year deferment from school and will have to return unless he hits it big. Team Rocket are former competitive hopefuls who flamed out and then, with no education or work experience to speak of, had no choice but to turn to crime. The Pokémon are depicted more realistically, often eschewing the toyetic mascot elements of their designs.

And the landscapes are often wistful, even apocalyptic in their presentation:

This more sedate, mature, realistic depiction of Pokémon became what I wanted Pokémon to be, what I projected onto an original Red and Blue version that left everything open to interpretation, and what would increasingly frustrate me with the series as it deviated more toward bombastic villain groups with goofy destroy-the-world plots. (Which was what put me off Pokémon Adventures.)

Amid all this, one panel stuck with me in particular. One panel I would think about ever since I first saw it as a child, that would turn around in my head and keep coming back. That panel would eventually—over two decades later—become the basis for When I Win the World Ends, the seed from which an entire story grew:

III. The Unkillable Demon King

But in the interim, the seed remained dormant. 1999 fell away. I grew up. I played later Pokémon games and increasingly lost interest by around Gen 4 and 5. Then I went to college.

That's when I started playing League of Legends.

I was something of a psychopath in college. I operated on a strict schedule and did not deviate. Wake up, read 50 pages of classic literature, write 2,000 words, go to classes, study, and then by about four in the afternoon all my obligations were done and it was League of Legends until midnight.

I wasn't actually interested in the League of Legends esports scene in its infancy. In 2012, I was actually invited to attend its World Championship in Los Angeles and refused. (When I received this invitation, I had just finished reading Homestuck for the first time, and was caught in a month-long haze in which I could do little but bask within what I considered the greatest artistic achievement I'd seen in my life. It was this month that inspired Modern Cannibals.) I only liked playing the game and watching Dunkey videos.

It wasn't until the next year, when a girl I was interested in recommended I watch, that I tuned in to my first professional League of Legends game, at the 2013 World Championship. It was there that I got to watch this new, hyped, upcoming Korean player who had apparently taken the pro scene by storm that season. That player was Faker.

It has seemingly become essential to the narrative of any sport that there is "the man who always wins." American football has Tom Brady, and the moment Brady retired, he was replaced by Patrick Mahomes. Basketball has LeBron James, picking up the mantle from Michael Jordan. It's as if someone being "the best" validates the skill-based promise of the sport, the fundamental top-down fairness of its premise, the idea that the person who wins is the best and deserved it. Faker would become the backbone of League of Legends esports and his ascendance correlated to that of the sport itself, from its humble roots at small-scale tournaments in places like Jönköping, Sweden, to max capacity arenas in the biggest cities in the world.

It's surprising, though, how the legend of Faker had already begun even before he won his first World Championship. League of Legends was designed as a clone of Defense of the Ancients (DotA), a popular mod for Warcraft III that emphasized competitive play. In its infancy, the competitive scene was mostly dominated by players who had migrated from DotA to League. They were older, winning thanks to a fundamental conceptual understanding of the game that was superior to everyone else, and frankly not very good in the aggregate. As League of Legends esports exploded in popularity from 2013 to 2015, these old pros would get filtered out swiftly, with even the biggest and most popular names retiring after only a couple of years in the scene.

Even once the new generation of League-grown talent ascended, though, careers were nasty, brutish, and short. The best players only remained on top for a season, as game patches dramatically changed viable strategies. Internationally the sport was dominated by Koreans, with the Korean regional league sometimes being seen as more difficult to win than the World Championship, where Koreans often breezed through uncompetitive Chinese, European, and North American squads.

This possibly affected the demographics of the professional scene. South Korea has mandatory military service, and leaving the pro scene to join the military was basically the end of a Korean player's career. This meant that it was rare to see a Korean player older than 25. Retiring in your early 20s was and remains common. Korean organizations, which had an infrastructural leg up on other regions due to the popularity of StarCraft 2 esports in the country, became adept at scouting promising players at 15 or 16, building them into top level competitive pros, wringing them dry for a few seasons with brutal training regimens, and spitting them out.

Faker was the exception. Though he had been discovered young by SK Telecom, a major Korean telecommunications company that did esports on the side, and gone through the training regimen, he refused to be spit out. He simply didn't stop. He won in 2013, then with a completely new four-man squad around him won again in 2015 and 2016 before narrowly losing the 2017 finals in a nail biter. Given League of Legends esports had only existed since 2011, he basically accounted for half of the championships up until that point. Nobody else, except for his teammates, had won more than once. And it was like it was known he would be this juggernaut the instant he manifested ex nihilo. Like it was known, even in 2013, that he would always win.

Then, Faker stopped winning.

By 2017, League of Legends esports was a titan. Venture capital firms, seeing the millions of eyeballs, thought that this was the next NBA in its infancy, and decided to get in on the ground floor. Multiple millions of dollars were pumped into the scene as even mediocre players in weak regions like North America pulled seven-digit salaries. In China, where League of Legends had become the national pastime, the nation's richest oligarchs ran teams for fun and vanity, outbidding Korean organizations for top Korean players in pursuit of a trophy that had gone to Korea every year since 2013. Riot, the studio developing the game, pumped tons of money into creating a professional sports product, with skilled announcers, dedicated arenas for regional leagues, live performances by musicians like Imagine Dragons and Lil Nas X, and all the other bells and whistles one might expect from a program watched on ESPN.

In this milieu, it seemed like Faker had finally reached his limit. He was still good, but not the best. Even as an individual, while everyone still considered him the "greatest of all time," he was considered outmatched by newer pros like Chovy and ShowMaker. 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021 passed with no championships. In 2022, on a team of mostly rookies, he reached the world finals, but was ultimately beaten. Korea's stranglehold over the sport had been shaken by China, which had finally strung together some championships. People wondered if Faker would retire, although he had managed to avoid mandatory military service by representing Korea in the Olympics-esque Asian Games. He'd dealt with wrist injuries and his level of play dropped year over year. He just didn't seem to be that good anymore, potentially holding back his team of talented young players rather than leading them to victory.

Then, in 2023—

And in 2024—

In the end, never count out Touchdown Tom. 11 years of professional play, 5 world championships.

From this longwinded explanation, you might have realized that after watching that game in 2013, I became a League of Legends esports fanatic, fulfilling the prophecy set before me by my father though perhaps in not the way he would have expected.

And the things I become a fanatic about, I want to write a story about.

IV. Modern Cannibals

There's a deleted scene in Modern Cannibals, as Maximillion is driving Z. and her friends through the Utah desert. He starts to talk about Pokémon.

"I bring it up because my university thesis was about Pokemon in particular how Pokemon has basically trained an entire generation of children to think in a completely different way than preceding generations my generation for instance our fad was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles now I don't know how much you know about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles but from an educational standpoint we're talking absolute bankrupt complete and utter goose egg but Pokemon now Pokemon you see it's more like there's some substance to it you know that refrain Gotta Catch Em All right?" "..." "Well to most parents it looks like a marketing gimmick you make one hundred fifty-one characters and structure a game around collecting them the merchandising potential is astronomical kids buy one hundred fifty-one trading cards stickers coloring books figurines uh collectable lunchable toys I'm sure you've got some yourself."

He continues:

"But really you look at the game itself before the big toy explosion the game itself the focus is placed less on the collection and more on the catalogue you're given a blank encyclopedia to fill and you fill it by capturing one hundred fifty-one Pokemon but the goal is to create a complete database of each and every one and this is what I argue is the educational core of the Pokemon series." His hands left the wheel to conceive of his idea in the cool air of the car, which remained steady on its ever-forward path. "Our modern era is no longer one of singular isolated knowledge it is one of the catalogue the database which is most clearly personified in the advent of the internet because now all knowledge can be at the fingertips of any one human being all that is needed is someone to go and put the catalogue together and presto whiz bang it's there think about it Z. when you catch a bunch of Pokemon where do you store them?" Z. didn't need to think long to remember the game's mechanics. "In the PC." "Exactly now isn't that odd consider it in real life terms you have real life creatures made assumedly of flesh and bone and yet you store them in a computer how does that make sense you'd expect a farm or a holding pen but no it's the computer and that too prepares the budding portion of the millennial generation to become cognizant of the linkage between the computer the encyclopedia and the database structure of knowledge in a new era." "So," said Z. "So you're saying Pokemon taught kids how to think in the digital age?"

There's also a deleted character in Modern Cannibals. Well, mostly deleted—he still shows up, unnamed, in a couple of pages. He is Cole Coulter, Z.'s older brother, a popular League of Legends streamer. Before I deleted him, his role was to accompany Mrs. Roddlevan and Frederick in an attempt to bring Z. back home. He had POV scenes that gave insight into the weirdness of his cotravelers, but ultimately, I decided he didn't add anything to the story and removed him almost entirely.

Even then, though, I was already considering the future of Cole Coulter as the protagonist of a story about League of Legends esports. Playing under the ID MadKing, he would be a North American professional top laner, once known for his aggressive duelist style but recently forced into playing boring tanks as the esports metagame became more sophisticated and tactics-based.

The story would be simple, something I envisioned as a "sports story" only about esports instead of regular sports. It would start with Cole's team being relegated from the league, only for Cole to get a last chance signing to a new team with two promising Korean imports. One import, the mid laner, would be a charismatic and eccentric player in the mold of Doinb/Ganked By Mom/Huhi, while the other, an AD carry, would be introverted and pissy and elitist, in the mold of Piglet. The team would initially struggle, cultures would clash, then a mid-season replacement to sign a psychopathic Tyler1/Tarzaned style streamer as jungler would revitalize the team, put them on a major run, and get them to the World Championship. Though they would eventually fall after a miracle run, Cole would get a moment to truly shine on the biggest stage when he won a pivotal game by aggressive split pushing rather than tank play.

Thematically, the story would be about two things. First, a counterpoint to the idea of American exceptionalism, featuring a league where Americans are particularly bad compared to Korean or Chinese players. Second, an exploration of what it means to be exceptional at all. Cole would be an all-around mediocre person. Middling at school, at (real) sports, at the various popularity contests of being a teenager. League of Legends, this niche sub-sport, is the one thing he truly excelled at, the one place where he was good, better than 99.9 percent of all players, and yet even within that statistical greatness he wound up, ultimately, in a professional scene where he was once again mediocre, relegated to "tank duty," to facilitating other players to carry.

What does it mean to be the best? How can someone be so, so good, only to reach a level where they were still nothing special? Is there any way to win if you're not "the man who always wins"?

I remembered that panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu. The last people filtered before the final champion. It's certainly no walk in the zoo!

This idea was pretty detailed for a story I never wound up writing, something I mostly blame on the years 2018 and 2019, when a lot of bad things happened to me and in retrospect I consider it a minor miracle I managed to finish Chicago at all. As a human being, I would be decimated for the next three years, and so a lot of stories I might have written in that time never came to fruition.

Meanwhile, League of Legends esports reached a peak, then the venture capital bubble burst as investors realized there was no monetization scheme in place for any interested party except Riot Games. Money hemorrhaged out, Riot shifted resources to Valorant, and a sport that had been overinflated based on projected exponential growth in perpetuity fell back down to earth.

Also, Players came out.

Players was a 2022 mockumentary about a fictional League of Legends team competing in the North American league. Conceptually, it was doing a lot of what I had planned for my story: following a single team on a rags-to-riches run, focusing on the interpersonal drama of the team members, asking questions about greatness and its pursuit. It's a pretty good show if you're familiar with League of Legends esports at all, with a lot of on-the-ground fidelity that gives it an authentic feel, which is exactly what I had been hoping to use my esports fanaticism to accomplish. It completely took the wind out of my sails; it was like my idea had already been done.

So by 2022, the idea of a League of Legends esports story was dead. But there was still a drive to create something with that spirit, that would delve into those themes.

What remained after all these years of sifting the sieve, letting sand slip through, was that one panel from the manga. The number of people pursuing greatness slowly filtering until only one remained. And if I wasn't going to pursue that idea through League of Legends, maybe I could pursue it through another vehicle. Maybe the vehicle through which the idea had originally been exposed to me. Pokémon. It all came back to Pokémon.

V. Everything Evolving Into Crabs

I knew immediately that if I were to write a Pokémon fic, it would be a tournament arc. This was the natural evolution of my esports story idea. Also, if I were to write Pokémon, I wanted it to be a story about utopia, immersed within Pokémon's near-future ideal world, where everything is clean and healthy, where society is neat and ordered.

This idea caused me to remember the novel Eyeless in Gaza by Aldous Huxley, which I had read a few years back. A mostly autobiographical bildungsroman written on the precipice of World War II, the novel ends with the young protagonist on a journey to Central America, where he meets an idealistic doctor who believes sport to be a proper substitution for war. He tells the story of two tribes locked in internecine conflict through generations, able to replace that violence with soccer matches.

And wasn't that what the world of Pokémon was, a utopia revolving around neutralizing weapons of war by using them for competitive sport?

This tournament, I envisioned, would not simply be about deciding who was best, but an ideological battle for the future of the Pokémon world. To that end, I imagined a war between an entrenched trainer class, who competed as philosopher-warriors, intense individuals with deep connections to their Pokémon, and an upstart commercialization that sought to replace the ideological underpinnings that made their society so safe and prosperous with economic accumulation. It was from this kernel that the character who would become Aracely Sosa arose: charismatic, appealing, human-empathic, and propped up by a support staff who did all the hard work of teambuilding for her.

I imagined the story having an ensemble cast, focusing on nearly every competitor equally, with the Aracely character not having any especial focus until her improbable rise to the top. I imagined a final round where she faced off against "the man who always wins," and though she would lose to him, she would seem to have won the ideological battle, altering the course of society as major corporations scrambled to employ her formula for success at a much grander scale. The story would end with this realization of the earth-shattering importance behind her run, only for Aracely to sink in disappointment. Because in the end, all she really wanted was to win.

The more I thought about it, though, the less I liked the idea of an ensemble cast. The ensemble cast element of Chicago hadn't gone over very well (though I like it), and I figured it would wind up inflating the length of the story considerably. I was coming to the end of Cleveland Quixotic, after all, and once more wanted to write something smaller, tighter, and denser.

So I oriented my thinking to instead have the story revolve around Aracely and one major rival, to give an interpersonal mirror to the ideological war being waged. Thus, Toril came about as an antithesis to everything I had imagined Aracely to be: gruff, antisocial, independent. Their rivalry would culminate in a semifinals battle, before Aracely went on to fight "the man who always wins" in the finals.

I forget exactly when the gender theme came into the equation, but it evolved as an outgrowth of (once again) my competitive League of Legends expertise, where women are essentially nonexistent despite there seemingly being no biological blocks against them. This dovetailed nicely with Pokémon, a world where women seemingly could be powerful competitors, but where—in the anime at least—none ever are. For instance, look at this chart of every major tournament in the anime:

Every known winner is male. Every known finalist and semifinalist is male. Only a handful of female characters have reached the quarterfinals. What possible in-universe justification could there be for that?

This question was actually far more prominent in early planning and drafting than it wound up being in the final work. Initially, I had Aracely's personal motivation revolve around a drive to be the first female trainer to win; this would increase the ideological conflict between her and Toril, who attempted to ignore that she was female altogether. Over time, this theme would see diminished importance in face of the last piece of the thematic puzzle: cults.

It came from reading Underground by Haruki Murakami, a nonfiction journalistic account of the 1995 Tokyo sarin gas attacks carried out by the cult Aum Shinrikyo under the direction of its leader Shoko Asahara. Japan in the 90s was experiencing its own End of History, one taken literally by those disaffected with modern society's grand narrative. The prophecies of Nostradamus became fashionable among the young, who believed that 1999 would be the final year before the world was destroyed. Murakami interviewed both survivors of the gas attack and members of Aum Shinrikyo, collecting worldviews of people who simply thought they were "different" and who were willing to give everything in their lives to the one place that seemed to accept that difference.

The 1995 attacks were a watershed moment in Japanese culture. In their wake would come pivotal works of Japanese pop media, like the titan of otaku culture, Neon Genesis Evangelion:

(What's scary about Nostradamus' prophecy is that it might not come true. A year whose chief terror was that THIS WAS IT.)

Pokémon, whose first games released in Japan in 1996, also emerged within this post-Aum world where fixation on the minutiae of pop media was becoming a primary pillar of meaning for the youth, and it's hard not to see echoes of cultism in the evil teams that dot the series' landscape. Even Team Rocket, originally more modeled on organized crime than occultism, veers that direction in Gold and Silver, and afterward the organizations and their world-ending plots become increasingly absurd, to the point where it starts to become unclear why anyone would ever follow, say, Lysandre.

As I mentioned earlier, my personal interest in Pokémon was at odds with these clownish, Saturday morning cartoon villain organizations, but Murakami's account of the Aum attacks recontextualized them for me, made them make sense even within the framework of a "realistic" utopian world. The last elements snapped into place, and I knew my main character would be the member of one of these cults. A cult dedicated to, what else? Evolution. A core element of the Pokémon series, a perfect metaphor for the frustrating lack of movement of the End of History 90s. I imagined a cult leader as a surrogate mother figure for Aracely, who would have a strained relationship with both of her own parents, and deciding on that, the idea of making Pokémon's canon evil mother Lusamine the villain was a no-brainer. I imagined a post-SuMo Lusamine, unable to move on from her experience merged with Nihilego, languishing in Kanto after being sent there to consult with Bill, who had his own experience being merged with a Pokémon... It didn't take long to figure out how all these pieces connected.

The full form of the story had taken shape.

VI. Showdown

I knew immediately I would be following Showdown rules for the battles. No alternative even crossed my mind. I had dabbled in Showdown a few times over the years, first in Gen 3 OUs, then later in Gen 7 OUs, and I knew from experience that Pokémon is a monumentally more interesting competitive game when operating at a high level compared to either its depiction in the anime (shounen logic, mid-fight evolutions) or the general playing experience (spam your best move on your overleveled starter). I knew I would use competitive rulesets before I even considered the thematic or worldbuilding aspect I would eventually take in the story itself (i.e., that the specific rulesets prevent battles from becoming bloodsport and enforce order on the world). I simply thought doing battles this way would be far more entertaining.

To prepare, I started playing Gen 9 OUs under the guidance of a few friends who were into the competitive scene. I grinded the ladder for months, eventually getting a good enough grasp on the metagame to reach 1500 Elo on the Showdown ladder, which is not very good but generally higher than someone can reach with dumb luck.

Crafting the tournament format and rulesets used in the story wasn't difficult. I modeled the tournament format on the League of Legends World Championship, with region-based seeds (having been selected due to performance in regional tournaments) competing in four groups before the highest performers advanced to a single elimination bracket. Initially, I envisioned a 32-competitor bracket instead of the 16-competitor bracket that would appear in the final draft, but otherwise the format came quickly and easily.

In terms of the rulesets and available Pokémon, my considerations were made primarily in terms of what would be most entertaining to read. I decided to include Mega Evolutions and not include Z Moves, Dynamax, or Terastallization, because Mega Evolutions are cool and those other gimmicks are not. The bring-9-pick-6 format, while unusual in Showdown rulesets, is similar to the rules in Pokémon Stadium and VGC tournaments, and also adds a level of intrigue to which Pokémon each competitor uses. (It also enabled Red's Zapdos at the climax of the story, which was something I knew I would bring out from very early on.)

With the help of one of my friends who knew competitive Pokémon, I scripted out each battle assiduously before I wrote them. Every battle was tested using Showdown itself, with only a few turns mocked up to account for luck. For instance, in Aracely versus Jinjiao, Slowking is meant to stay asleep for three turns. Rather than rely on luck to ensure Slowking actually slept that long during the test, I could give Slowking a useless move and have him use that instead to simulate being asleep.

The only thing that couldn't be tested in Showdown was the 7 PP Kingambit trick Red uses at the end of the story, because it's impossible to set a Pokémon to have fewer than max PP in Showdown. This led to one of the bigger mistakes of the story, as it turns out that Encore would simply wear off if Kingambit ran out of PP, rather than forcing him to use Struggle like I assumed. Luckily, even if this were the case, it wouldn't change the outcome of the battle, so it's not an error I lose too much sleep over.

Character teams were chosen to thread the needle between a few considerations. The team needed to be competitively viable, reflect the character's personality in some way, and be distinct from other teams for the sake of variety. (Variety is somewhat unrealistic in real top-level competitive Pokémon, where you'll often see many almost identical teams in the top ranks. But that would be boring.) Some lack of optimization was allowed under the conceit that actually training these Pokémon to peak form would take a lot of time in the real world, compared to Showdown were optimization can be determined quickly due to the ability to immediately adjust stats and builds.

I also tried to give some preference for Pokémon that would be more familiar to layman fans, though this was difficult because Gen 8 and 9 have outrageous power creep and many popular early generation Pokémon have been completely phased out. (Using Megas helped with this issue.) It was this consideration that led to Azumarill being Aracely's ace. There was also an innate challenge to imagining what the competitive scene would look like without legendary Pokémon. Zapdos and Landorus-Therian have been inexorable staples of the competitive scene for generations. What happens in a world where they aren't used at all?

In the original 32-person bracket, I imagined Aracely competing against Jinjiao in the first round, then minor characters Adrian da Cunha and Jacq Ray Johnson in the next two rounds, before facing Toril in semifinals. I imagined Adrian da Cunha as a "hometown hero" whose team wasn't great but he was plucky with a lot of grit, and Jacq Ray Johnson as a self-aware heel who liked to use cheesy strategies and gimmicky Pokémon like Smeargle and Ditto. Condensing from 32 to 16 occurred around the same time I had settled on Lusamine as my villain/cult leader, which led to replacing those two with Gladion. I developed full brackets for both the 32-man and 16-man iterations, with character names and regions, just in case I ever needed to mention them.

All that was left to do was write the story.

VII. Unbroken Line of History

I began writing in September 2023 under the tentative title Unbroken Line of History, which I would later change to simply Lines. In the original drafts, I opened the story with a modified version of the panel from Electric Tale of Pikachu detailing how people are filtered over time in their pursuit of being the best, this time starting with all 8 billion people in the world until only one remains. The story then cut to Aracely's perspective in the restroom as she mentally prepared for her final group stage match.

At this point I was more set on Aracely being the clear protagonist of the story, so she had a few facets of her personality designed around that. First, as I mentioned before, there was a feminist angle where she was motivated specifically to be the first female trainer to win the championship. Secondly, I threw in some more generic nervousness/fear of failure. The other major difference is that I did not lead with the cult prophecy of the world ending. I originally envisioned the cult reveal to be a mid-story twist, and only obliquely hinted at it.

The scene still played out with Toril appearing and the two getting off to a bad start. Then, Cely's father tried to talk strategy with her while she ignored him, before the battle transpired in much the same form as it does in the final draft.

I showed this early draft to my friends and most disliked it. My girlfriend at the time told me Cely sounded like an edgy 13-year-old boy, while my neuroscientist friend whose aspirational idol is Bondrewd from Made in Abyss wanted to know more about the oblique hints of a cult, finding everything else boring. Another friend said it was stupid that there were 30 seconds between turns during the battle and that the Pokémon should just go at each other; nobody would actually want to watch a battle that was paced so slowly. (I vehemently disagreed with that take. Basically every popular sport balances between slow-paced moments of strategy and fast-paced moments of action and execution.) Some people I showed it to did enjoy it, though. Gazemaize, the author of Chili and the Chocolate Factory, was especially enamored by the Brittany/Gardevoir reveal and the Bud Light Analyst Desk, and implored me to keep both of those elements at all costs. 7th, one of my friends who helped me with the Showdown stuff, was so into it she drew fan art of all the characters (which I've posted before) and also wrote eight pornographic short stories about them.

I rewrote the same opening scene several times across October and November, though these were minor iterations without significant adjustments. Frustrated with the lack of progress, I decided to take a break from writing to simply think about the story for a few months.

During this time, to fix Aracely's edgy 13-year-old voice, I decided to lean into her being from Pokémon Los Angeles (with her native region, Visia, being a play on "visual" as a reference to Hollywood) and gave her a Valley Girl accent. To prepare for this, I listened to hours and hours of ASMR videos of people speaking like Valley Girls and took notes on their inflection and syntax. It was here where I decided on Aracely's underlining quirk, as a way of capturing the unique style of emphasis Valley Girls used.

This also made me realize I needed to adjust Aracely's personality. Despite the tone of her voice, she was still acting antisocially. She didn't want to talk to her father, she didn't want to talk to Lachlan Nguyen, she didn't even really want to talk to Toril. Toril herself was a lump of coal. My own misanthropy kept leaking into the characters, even when I conceptually didn't want them to have it. I thought back to Cleveland Quixotic, and how what made the Jay and Viviendre romance work was that they actually both liked each other, and figured—even though I didn't have explicitly romantic plans for Aracely and Toril—that I needed to do something similar to make their rivalry truly pop. Rather than avoid people, Aracely would lean into talking to them, even if they were annoying. Although Toril remained frigid, there would be a part of her yearning for emotional contact, a way to coax her out of her shell.

I also thought deeply about the structure of my stories in general, and my inability to come up with good hooks. It was around this time that someone I knew was reading Chicago. They pointed out that the plot of Chicago doesn't really start until Chapter 26; that I was "burying the lede." I considered this. My logic, when writing Chicago, was that the Empire moving to take over Washington would be a twist, something that would shock and excite people and change their perception of the entire story.

But did that make sense, when really the story was "about" that twist? Didn't that just make everything before the twist harder to get into for a reader? Chicago might look radically different if I revealed the Empire's goals immediately, but it would also probably be a more immediately engaging work. I'm a big fan of delayed gratification in storytelling, but had I taken it too far?

This was a major revelation for me, and immediately I understood what I needed to do for my Pokémon story: move up the cult plotline. Place it front and center. Name the whole story after it even. I decided on framing the opening scene from Toril's perspective, depicting Aracely initially more as an alien other, emphasizing the fact that she was in a cult rather than hide it behind foreshadowing. This could also lead to Aracely and Toril having more of a dual protagonist setup, which would make my planned two-half finale (one half where Aracely battled "the man who always wins," one half where Toril got involved in stopping the cult's doomsday plot) work even better.

Confidence resurged. At the end of January 2024, my girlfriend of seven years  and I broke up. A few days later, I started writing the sixth—and ultimately final—draft of When I Win the World Ends.

VIII. When I Win the World Ends

Now it's the part of the Making Of where I actually make the thing I'm supposed to be making, but there's a lot less to say about it. Once I have a plan, the actual writing of the story is the easy part, and most of what I wrote—with a few exceptions—looks similar to the story as it exists now.

There were some oddities. I wrote the first seven chapters (everything up to the end of the Jinjiao battle) and then had to take a two week break to write a short piece for a writing contest I had entered in December as part of an effort to stop overthinking WIW. After this interruption, I returned to WIW writing perhaps a bit more perfunctorily than I usually would, leading to an original version of Chapter 8 (the chapter where MOTHER makes her first real appearance) that was short and abbreviated. Later, in editing, I would rewrite most of this chapter.

A few ideas emerged while writing, like the motif of serendipity/Logos, which I felt tied nicely to the ideas of evolution and history. It was also in this draft that I introduced Cely's friends Haydn and Charlie, as a nod to an earlier work of mine also featuring a fashion-obsessed girl from Los Angeles. (Speaking of nods to earlier works, in the original 32-man bracket, Cole Coulter featured as one of the competitors, but he didn't make the 16-man cut.)

The process went smoothly. I finished the draft at the end of May, a little under four months after I started it. I had envisioned the full story as being about 70,000 words, but the draft ended up closer to 115,000. Underestimating story length is just an essential element of the trade, though.

A few days after finishing the draft I went on a four-day Oklahoma Darkness Retreat where I had access to zero electronics. The goal was to think about my story deeply and how it could be improved in the editing process.

In this time chamber, where I did nothing except complete crossword puzzles and read The Recognitions by William Gaddis, I came to a realization. There was one element the story needed that wasn't already there.

That element was Sabrina. In the original draft, Sabrina was not present during the scene where Aracely meets the Old Man. She was mentioned obliquely a couple of times in conjunction with Aracely's "psychic powers," but it never really built to anything. There was still a scene where Aracely was interrogated due to her relationship with MOTHER, but only by nameless goons, and the scene lacked tension as it was clear Aracely could talk circles around them.

When I returned from Oklahoma, I prepared for my conception of Sabrina as a character by writing an 8,000 word short story from her perspective, which hashed out an entire backstory for her. Then, I started editing the draft.

For me, a lot of editing is just polish. Usually, cutting out needless sentences and fixing clunky ones, as well as emphasizing a few of the more understated themes and motifs. For instance, during editing, I made slight additions to emphasize the thematic connection between Aracely's suicide attempt and the global war that almost destroyed the world, as well as the connection between the moon and cyclical insanity (lunacy, etymologically, being related to the moon). I made the Old Man more of a Walt Disney-esque figure (from my notes: "a dying Disney"), rewriting much of his dialogue to either be direct quotes or to evoke his ideals. I also expanded on several of the scenes where Toril and Aracely interact to make their relationship more complex and nuanced. I gave MOTHER some new dialogue, including her speech in Chapter 18 about loving a child for the potential it promises, while also paradoxically wanting it to remain a child forever.

The largest changes were in the three chapters I almost fully rewrote. The first was Chapter 8, which as I mentioned earlier was overly terse. In the original draft, it depicted MOTHER as more pathetic, more dependent on Aracely. I decided to make her a more threatening figure, and incorporated a few references to the Moloch sacrifice scene from Valle Verde to make her seem more like a false idol. Similarly, I rewrote Chapter 12, which was originally a very short chapter that focused solely on a conversation between MOTHER and Nilufer that ended with the order to kidnap Aracely. In rewriting the chapter to include Fiorella, I gave myself more opportunity to flesh out the respective philosophies of her and MOTHER (including some of the story's most salient discussions about why cults exist), as well as give more of an insight into the inner workings of RISE as an organization. And lastly, I fully rewrote Chapter 19 to include Sabrina.

The last changes I made in editing were to the final chapter. When I finished the final draft of the story, I sent it to several readers, many of whom had looked at the original drafts of the first chapter, as well as julirites, the author of a Fargo fan fiction called London. There was an immediate and minor backlash to the final chapter, which was originally much more pessimistic, from most people who read it. In the original version, Aracely and Toril were not still in communication. (Fiorella was also dying of cancer instead of jockeying to replace the Old Man.) The finale had a much more somber, sedate, tragic note. Juli and 7th disliked this sad ending, while Gazemaize wanted me to cut the final chapter altogether. I felt confident that the final chapter was necessary, though, and revised it to its current version, which was much better liked.

And then... the story was finished, near the end of July. I crunched the numbers and realized that if I posted two chapters to start and then did a twice-weekly posting schedule, I could end the story serendipitously on October 12. So I did.

IX. Names and Special Thanks

In my Making Of post for Cleveland Quixotic, I had a fairly extensive list of where I got all the character and place names from. The list is a lot less extensive here; most names I constructed for the purpose of sounding evocative, rather than taking them from someplace specific. For instance, I chose the name Aracely Sosa because it sounds like whistling with its repeated S sounds, compared to Toril Lund which is a lot harsher with its consonants. You can see a similar rationale behind names like Fiorella Fiorina, Yui Matsui, and even some of the background characters, like Jacq Ray Johnson, Jr., where there is a lot of emphasis on alliteration and rhyme.

There are a couple of exceptions. Jinjiao is the in-game ID of a longtime Chinese League of Legends pro of middling notability. He picked the name (which means "Golden Horn") as a reference to the Golden Horned King, a villain from Journey to the West.

Lutz, Fiorella's cameraman, was named after an extremely minor character from Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance, who is not playable and only appears in a singular cutscene before being killed. They are so irrelevant that despite naming a character after them, I actually forgot their name, which is Lotz, not Lutz.

Haydn is named after the famous classical composer.

Special thanks to 7th and Elick320 for helping me with the teams and battles. Thanks to Gazemaize and julirites, among others unnamed, for reading and providing feedback. And thank you all for enjoying the story.

[alwaysanundertone]

Ah hello~ :3 I heard you were looking for requests and uh I got an idea but its Remus x reader :"3 if that's alright?

So the idea is... Remus has this chocolate thing right? And he knows everyone's favorite chocolates... But no one knows his. Reader (who is a Ravenclaw) observes him and realizes what his favorite flavor is :3. So she first tries it by leaving a stash of it on his book in the library one day to which Remus LOVES. Then... Idk you do the rest 😅 I want them to interact in the end tho 🤧 like he discovers or like she gets caught dunno aha

Pomegranate chocolate | Remus Lupin x reader

LOVED this idea had to start writing as soon as I could, hope you enjoy this’

fluff

You had always had a crush on Remus. While everyone seemed to be lusting over Sirius’s bad boy vibe, or falling for James’s outgoing behaviour, you had always found Remus’s calmness endeavouring and kind of intimidating at the same time.

You never were the one to initiate things, could barely speak to people you didn’t know, but this time, you wished you could. You wished you could just tap Remus’s shoulder and introduce yourself like every other girl in Hogwarts did. You wished you could have his attention, even for just a few seconds, even if it meant being made fun of. But you couldn’t.

So, you kept on watching him like a stalker. You knew that it was creepy, and kind of out of character for you, but having a crush on the same person for three years straight makes you do crazy things. You knew his favourite book because he always seemed to read it in the library, at least once a month. You knew his favourite classes and his least favourite ones by noticing if he was there or if he was skipping them to go smoking in the astronomy tower. You knew his favourite chocolate, of course, and you noticed that it had been a while since he last bought it. Every time he went to Honeydukes, he came back with his friends’ favourite chocolates, never his, and it seemed quite sad.

That explained why you were now standing in front of the cashier, three stashes of pomegranate dark chocolate piled in your hands, sheepishly handing them over, your face the one of a thief who had just been caught.

You didn’t even know what to do with them, you didn’t know Remus, you couldn’t just come up to him with his favourite type of chocolate like a desperate schoolgirl, begging for attention. You just knew you wanted him to be happy, you wanted to see the scars above his lip crinkle, his eyes light up, and that cute little dimple showing, knowing it was you who made him that happy.

You walked back to the library, bag secured, and looked inside from shelving unit. It was then that you spotted Remus leaving, probably going to smoke, as he always did. You looked around: no one was there, it was Saturday night, after all. Slowly, you got up from your hiding spot, positioning the chocolate on his book; you didn’t stop at that, though: you picked up one of his pens and draw a little heart on a piece of paper, positioning it right above the sweet treat.

You weren’t  stupid, you knew he couldn’t know it was you who draw that heart, still you wanted to accompany the gift with some type of card. You decided to go back to your dorm, staying in your hiding spot would have been to risky.

What you didn’t see was Remus reaction to your little surprise. As soon as he saw the little heart, immediately knew it was you, his little obsession. He smiled down at the gift, finally you were showing him some interest. He had been making everything in his power to get you to like him back: looking at you in class just to see your cheeks becoming the sweetest shade of red, spotting you on the bleachers during practice only to use the hem of his jersey to wipe his face, showing his six pack. His heart swelled: he was going to make you his sooner than he expected. A plan slowly started to take form in his head.

After a week, you still had two other boxes to give to Remus. You decided to leave one of them in front of his locker during Quidditch practice, and the other one on his desk right before potions. Every time you gave him the sweet treat, you always draw an heart on the box, just so he knew that it was the same person who decided to gift him his favourite candy.

When he came back from his smoking break, you watched as he looked down at his desk, his face lighting up as he saw the chocolates, making your lips curl into a little grin. What you didn’t expect, though, was for him to be looking around, spotting you. In mere seconds you had become redder than the sweetest cherry, you looked down, praying he didn’t see your reddened cheeks from across the room, sprinting once the bell rang.

You decided to spend your day in your dorm room, too afraid of running into him. Sure, he couldn’t be knowing that you had a massive crush on him, right? You had been so careful, he couldn’t have seen you. You heard a knock on the door, and as you went to open it, right under your eyes were five boxes of white raspberry chocolate, your favourite.

No one had ever gifted you anything before, and no one knew your taste in chocolate, so that left you kind of surprised.

You gasped loudly, and then you saw Remus coming out from a corner, making you nearly faint.

“I know what you did” He was smirking down at you, the height difference making you feel even more powerless. You decided to play it off.

“And what did I do now, Lupin?” He chuckled, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek, making your false bravado fall as fast as it came.

“You gifted me chocolate. Three boxes, to be more specific. Always with those little cute hearts. My favourite type of chocolate, no one knows what my favourite type of chocolate is, but you do. My smart girl” He was staring into your eyes, his hand preventing you from looking away, even if you wanted to. “My question is, why?”

“Could ask you the same question, Lupin. No one knows my favourite type of chocolate, either.” He chuckled.

“I know why I did it. I really like you, Y/N, have been sporting a massive crush on you for a while. Are you insinuating that you feel the same about me?”

Your mouth opened, you widened your eyes. He was kidding you, this must have been a joke. “I- Is this some type of marauder prank? Because I’m not falling for it, Lupin, take your spiked chocolate away from me” 

“You’re so cute when you get mad” He caressed your cheek with his thumb, his face now dangerously close to yours. “I mean what I said, you know that?” He whispered, right above your lips.

“How did you know it was me, though?”

He smiled. “You always draw those little hearts on your books while you read them. Been observing you for a while now, I could swear there isn’t one of your books who has blank margins.”

Your heart swelled. The idea that he had been as obsessed with you as you were with him making you dizzy. You reached up for his collar, pulling him close to you, pecking his lips. He groaned loudly, his hands gripping your hips as he devoured your mouth, while you reciprocated the kiss with as much fervour.

After a while, you took a big breath, pulling away from the kiss. He licked his lips, making you blush once again. “So, Friday night at Hogsmade? How does that sound?”

“Good” You pulled him once again close to you, afraid he would vanish in thin air if you didn’t.

tag list: @sxmnc

[prinzrupprecht]

When they hurt your feelings

Featuring: Beelzebub, Cu Chulainn, Apollo, Okita ( part 1 )

Ight lads we onto a new series. Dunno why Okita feels out of place in this line up. First time doing Beel and Cu. If you guys want a specific character in part 2 you’ll have to request it or else imma just rng it.

Part 2 and Part 3

No warnings.

Beelzebub

You knew of the risks of trying to get close to the Lord of the Flies. You may have been pestering him around too lately or tried to get him to soften up around you.

All your efforts were for nothing but you still tried. He tells you to leave him alone most of the time while he studies in his own research room. You continued to pout as your advances were rejected yet again.

Beelzebub never tried to get to know you or why you even wanted to befriend him. Ever since Lilith and his three friends died because of him, he doesn’t want the same to happen to anyone else. Other gods feared him and he liked to live in solitude.

You still tried to get close to him. It was pissing him off and so he snapped without thinking one day. He called you the worst things a person shouldn’t ever hear. Bottom-feeder gods were better than you. You were more annoying than a fly buzzing in his ear. If it wasn’t for his desire to die so badly, he’d rather your piercing voice kill him instead.

You probably were more hurt than ever and couldn’t even bring yourself to leave your house for days. You were so annoying that he would rather die than be near you? No, he always wanted to die and you tried to change that.

Instead, you had tried to move on. Maybe it was for the better? Even no matter how hard you tried to be friendly to him, it was no use and the weeks that have gone by without passing a word to him. He probably doesn’t even care enough to look in your direction.

You found your way to the garden of Eve despite the weird creatures that lurk around the forbidden tree. You just wanted to break free from the reality you were in for a moment— “why are you here?” His voice sounded like venom. You couldn’t even move, yet he was here.

“Fine then I’ll leave, sorry for even coming here.” You pouted and turned your head to see him giving you an amused look. You were confused, didn’t he want you not to be around him?

“Actually, I liked it better when you were annoying. It fits you more,” he huffed. He wanted you to pester him around? You didn’t want to feel that heartache again that he gave you.

“Huh?! If you’re here to insult me again then go away!” You huffed pointing your finger at him.

He grabbed your arm pulling you to him with a smirk plastering his face. “No. I actually would rather risk killing you than you avoid me again.” He pushed you against the tree with one hand close to your head. Your mind was running wild with thoughts. Kill you?

“Fine then, only if you let me get to know the real you instead of pushing me away!” You glared back at him which he stepped forward towards you. He was surprised Satan hasn’t tried to kill you. His heart was growing more fonder of you by the day and it killed him more when you stopped pestering him around because of his cruel behaviour towards you.

At last he would have you here and now.

Cu Chulainn

Knowing Cu was probably a nightmare. He was rude and complained about the gods a lot. What were you even? A human brought to Valhalla and met Cu Chulainn along the way. You weren’t exactly the closest to him but you grew jealous of how much he paid attention to his dog more than you sometimes. However, he had a different side to him whenever he was with his dog Geis.

You sometimes wish you were the dog but you concealed your feelings for him knowing what had happened to other women who tried to confess to him. Morrigan… you were there when she demanded him to marry her and the two fought. Morrigan tried to kill you out of revenge for Cu rejecting her. Yet, something snapped in him and somehow he defeated her within seconds.

Your mind was brought back to you watching Cu with his dog. He even allowed you to pet his dog where as nobody else was allowed to. He trusted you enough to pet him. “He’s not bad when he gets to know someone first.” Cu smiled genuinely watching Geis brush against your side.

“He’s cute! Is he fine with cats?” You looked at Cu who gave you even more of an annoyed look. Cats? What?

“I don’t know?” He was having doubts about where this was going.

“Can he meet my cats?” You clasped your hands together. His dog around a bunch of felines?!

“Hell no, Geis doesn’t need to be around a bunch of annoying cats. Heck, even I don’t want them around me.” Cu turned his head but you didn’t say anything. You accepted Cu’s dog but he wouldn’t even trust a few cats? You had thought because he liked animals, maybe he wouldn’t mind the stray cats you take care of.

“It’s fine! Sorry, I asked. I uh– I have to go back home now anyway!” You didn’t even give him a chance to say anything before leaving.

Cu was rude most days, and you put up with him a lot. You watched him train and talked nonstop in his ear. Even when he was busy, he always found time to check up on you. You didn’t want to admit to him about your feelings for him incase he’d reject you.

So why were you hurt now? Cu would probably kill your cats anyway so it’s better that he wasn’t around them. He can’t even accept one part of you?

Several days had passed without hearing anything from Cu. You were fairly certain this must’ve been the longest you haven’t heard from him. You were too sad to even leave the house, why were men so stubborn? Did he expect you to chase him? You refused to do that as you were stronger than that.

You almost didn’t hear the front door open and you immediately jumped thinking someone entered your home. “Woah, relax.” Cu showed himself from around the corner. He looked more annoyed than you.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice croaked which gave away how upset you were with him. You weren’t only upset about what he thought of your cats but his rude attitude also puts you down at times.

“Heh? You didn’t come by for a few days, so I wanted to see if you’re alive. And Geis too was worried,” he called his dog over who nearly tackled you to the ground and was licking you all over. You were happy but at the same time, this changes nothing.

“Well, I’m alive so you can leave.” You gave him a murderous stare indicating you were mad at him. Cu was irritated with you. Now you’re matching his mood? He was stubborn but he never thought you’d be the same.

“Nah, bring your felines out.” Cu brought an arm up to his forehead to hint at the imaginary headache you were causing him. Would you stop being mad at him if he petted one of your cats?

You perked your head up at him, “not if you’re forcing yourself to meet them.” You pouted.

“I’m asking to,“ he didn’t want to admit that it was indeed to make you stop being mad at him. He missed you.

“Fine, but could you be more nicer to me from now on?” You stood up and gave him a sly smile.

“Whatever, Princess.”

Apollo

Being Apollo’s wife came with both pros and cons. He would either suffocate you with his love and continuously talk nonstop to you about his passion for beauty or he would disappear for days. The disappearing part was recent. He used to stay in the Olympus palace with you most times. This was making you worry whether he was going back to his old ways.

Was he seeing someone new? Was he bored of you now? The unsettling feeling wouldn’t go away. Maybe you shouldn’t wait for him anymore.

“My lady, it’s urgent.” One of the maids opened into your shared room. You looked at her to continue.

“Ah, my apologies. Apollo is severely injured and is asking for you.” Severely?! What? You weren’t even mad anymore. Your worries were filled with intrusive thoughts of him being in a critical condition that may be fatal. You could also be worrying too much.

You rushed out of the room as you heard of the news. Why was he severely hurt? You were going to scold him but as soon as you reached the infirmary where there were many injured Olympus guards, deities and you found Apollo in his own room.

“Agh, what happened?!” You busted open the door and you could see that he was wrapped in bandages. His force went from wide shock to giving you a small smile.

“It’s nothing too major darling—"

“Nothing too major? You’re covered from the chest down in bandages?! I’m hurt, yes. You would go off and disappear for days! I know you’re not telling me things.” You lowered your head and sat next to his bedside.

“I’m sorry for being in such a disgusting unsightly position right now.” He changed the topic back to his beauty which even hurt you even more. Did he only care about his looks?

“Can you take this seriously for once? Agh, maybe I should leave.” You stood up but Apollo sighed and needed to explain why he was gone for days at a time. However, you spoke up again turning to face him.

“I thought you were seeing someone else! And then I hear this, I— I don’t even know.” You covered your mouth with one hand. Apollo was offended you lacked faith in him. In all honestly, it shocked him. However, it was his fault for not telling you the Titan issue so you wouldn’t worry. Yet, he knew he messed up.

“The Titans broke into heaven and Zeus needed all of us.” He grabbed your hands to stop your shaking. You were immensely scared and your worries wouldn’t stop.

Hey, hey, everything is fine.” Apollo pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. You were starting to feel a bit more at ease. You lowered your head on his chest without trying to hurt him. His arms wrapped around your waist. You were calming down and hoping he would recover from this.

Even the titans may return later but you wanted him to be more truthful. “I’m sorry, I overreacted and thought you would hurt me…” you were feeling bad but Apollo still placed one of his hands to his forehead.

“Hmm, no I have no reason to commit infidelity as you’re the only beautiful woman I need to comfort me.” He was so obsessed with beauty even to the point that only you were the most beautiful gem in his eyes.

Okita

Every time you tried to practice your swings and techniques alone, Okita would always make his comments about how you were almost as bad as Hijikata as a joke. You envy him for being a prodigy and that he was right. Souji was the best swordsman in Kondo’s Shieikan training hall. Nothing hurts more than hearing his negative thoughts about your swordplay.

Hijikata was unbothered by the comments hurled at him for being the worst swordsman, and for some reason, you didn’t want to show how bothered you were. Okita-san liked to play around with them and that was what men did. It was a weakness to show your emotional side. You tried to keep your distance from the demon child. For many years you had known Souji, he was incredibly kind to you but that was up until recently when you wanted to learn how to use a sword.

You asked Saitou and Nagakura to help you, but they still won against you every single time. Yet, they never gave you a ton of criticism like how Souji had. They even said you had the potential to be as good as them. It was only Souji who said even if you trained for a hundred years, you wouldn’t ever be as good as him. Maybe he was right, but you weren’t trying to be as good as him. You wondered what changed? Why was he like this towards you?

Even when Kondo took him in, you were just a kid at the time who was also raised by Kondo’s adoptive father and lived at the Shieikan dojo. You even helped Kondo-san take care of Souji and he became incredibly attached and protective of you two. You had wondered if he had thought of you more than someone who just took care of him when he had no one. His sister abandoned him and you reassured him he wasn’t a monster as others saw him as.

When you saw him talking to Saitou and smiling, you felt a bit sad. Why did he act differently around them compared to you? You missed his nice and caring side. You were bothered but you pushed yourself to move on. As you walked away you saw Kondo in another room. “Everything okay?” he had asked which your mind stopped for a moment. You nodded but said nothing.

“You’ve been acting strange these past few days,” he patted you to sit next to him and you couldn’t help but break down your emotions. You couldn’t hold them in any longer. You told Kondo that it was becoming unbearable to be around Souji.

“I don’t think he means it like that, I think he is worried that you’ll get hurt." Kondo took another sip of his tea. You wondered what he meant by that. Get hurt? After some time talking to the boss of the dojo, you started to understand where Souji was coming from. He never spoke to Kondo about his concerns either since men tend to not show their emotions or like to express themselves.

You decided the comments hurt too much and went back to cleaning the dojo and after them. Your friendship felt worse with Souji now. You decided that whatever you thought there was with him before was completely gone now. You saw Yamanami and Saitou practicing inside and they wanted to help you train but you politely declined.

You saw Souji outside sitting at the cherry blossom tree and that was when you walked over to him to confront him with the way he behaved towards you. “You going to explain yourself?” You were standing in front of him and he didn’t look up at you nor spoke for a moment.

“Huh? What?” He gave you an innocent reaction and it irritated you. It was like a sting to your heart and you were just bothering him at this point.

“Seriously? You’re going to play dumb? Never mind, this was a mistake.” You were about to walk away and go back to cleaning but Souji grabbed your sleeved arm so you wouldn’t leave him. Ever since you helped Kondo take care of him, he was afraid you would leave him one day.

“I’m sorry.” He still wouldn’t let go of your arm.

“Huh?” You sat next to him.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you.” His lips curled up into a smile. His knees were still up to his chest while you knew he meant it.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to practice swordplay anymore with Saitou or Nagakura-san.” You shrugged.

“Why haven't you asked me?”

“I— I don’t know. I don’t want to bother you with trivial things…” This made you fidget with your long sleeves.

“But you’re fine with bothering Hajime-san?” You understood where he was coming from. He was annoyed you never asked him for help and relied on others. Jealous? You didn’t want to make a joke about him being jealous. It was obvious and it makes sense that he wanted to be the one to train you and even protect you.

“So you would help train me without being a prick this time?” You couldn’t help but blush a bit. He looked at you and noticed how flustered you looked.

He nodded, “ya I can do that.” He smiled at you and leaned his body against yours like old times. After all, maybe your friendship could be something else with him.

Note: I really want to write a ton of bs one shots with Cu all of a sudden. Anyway, that’s all for now!

[wooahaes]

a healthy change of mind

pairing: non-idol!hoshi x fem!reader

genre: domestic fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: food mention. mentions that reader didn't enjoy her bday growing up. skinship.

word count: ~1.0k

daisy's notes: domestic fluff i love u i love u i love u-

There was always an odd sense of intimacy in tying someone’s apron for them. Soonyoung liked it most when it was you, because he could always press a gentle kiss against your neck when he was done… and you would do the same, giving him butterflies in his stomach all over again.

Today was your birthday, and Soonyoung was happy to greet you when you finally came home from spending time with your friends. He liked being the person who saw the way you melted a bit with exhaustion, the person who snuggled with you on the couch as you recharged your battery. He understood how that felt, too: sometimes after he spent his days with his friends, he just needed to rest in your company. There was always something so easy about being around you. He felt special that you could just snuggle up with him and relax. He’d watched you remove your makeup and take off the jewelry (all little things your friends had bought you over the years), and he stole a kiss from you after you’d shed your shirt to change into sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. 

“I don’t wanna go out tonight,” you had sighed against his shoulder. “Soonyoung?” You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “Can we cook?”

Soonyoung was not a chef. Hell, he didn’t really cook much at all. You’d taught him a little before, but he never felt any good at it. His food never tasted anywhere near as good as yours (although, strangely enough, you said the same when he made you scrambled eggs one morning to surprise you with how much he’d been practicing), and half the time he ended up burning something… But if you wanted him to help you, he would happily help you. It wasn’t the first time you’d ask him to do that anyway. He’d always stay by your side, chopping ingredients and preparing whatever it was that you needed him to do. 

Unfortunately, it did call for a visit to the grocery store. Soonyoung held the basket in one hand, and your hand in the other as you guided him around the store. Another day, you two would do a proper grocery store visit… But that was for another day, definitely. He carried the bags home, still keeping his fingers intertwined with your own. And then he tied your apron, and kissed your neck before you did the same for him. That was what led to now, as you passed him a pair of gloves and asked him to dice chicken for you while you started to work on a sauce for your pasta. 

“You know,” you’d been measuring out heavy cream when you spoke up, “I like my birthday now.” 

He glanced up from where he was carefully cutting chicken. “You do?”

“Mhm. My birthday always kinda sucked when I was growing up,” you shrugged. “I mean—It always kinda felt like they were about other people than just me. My cake always had to be something everyone liked instead of something I liked.” For a moment, you paused, and then looked up, waving a hand. “Not that I didn’t like it! I like vanilla cake just fine,” you shrugged. “But… I dunno. Ice cream cakes are nice. Cupcakes are nice. I just kinda wish it was my decision more often, y’know?”

Is that why you told him not to worry about a cake…? He just watched you for a moment, trying to gauge your thoughts. “It can be your decision now.”

For a second, you just stood there, processing that. “Soonie?” You looked up, voice so small now. “Can we order cake? It can just be two slices for delivery, but—”

He laughed, warm as ever, and nodded. “I’ll pull up the app when I’m done and we can look. Tell me more about your birthdays.”

You shook your head. “Nah. I mean… I never really liked being ‘the birthday girl’ with all the attention on her, y’know? I like what I can do now. Going out with my friends, and then just… getting to come home to you and do something laid-back.” With a blissful sigh, you continued to make the alfredo sauce for your pasta. “I like that I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not.” 

Something ached in his chest at that. You hadn’t told him everything about your past, sure, but you’d told him that you did hide things about yourself growing up. Your interests, your personality, all wrapped up in a tight package of anxiety that you’d say the wrong thing or do something and be hated. It was all irrational, and you knew that now, but as a child with anxiety? Soonyoung couldn’t fault you for struggling so much with it growing up. Yet something softened inside of him as he realized the implications of what you said: you felt safe being yourself around him.

Good, then. He liked being himself around you, too.

The gloves crinkled as they came off, and he tossed them into the bin before making his way over to you. You turned right as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a long kiss against your lips before drawing away. 

You smiled at him. “Hi?”

“Hi,” he giggled. “Happy birthday. I love you.” 

You kissed him back, soft and sweet, before pulling away. “I love you, too, you dork.” 

Soonyoung drew away, already going for his phone to start looking up dessert places. He would have done this for you a thousand times over if it meant he could see that pretty smile on your face. And he knew he’d kiss that smile again when the night was over and you were back where you belonged in his arms.

Hopefully, you two could spend your next birthday just like this, too.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[starboybutler]

don't count on it

summary: buck can't sleep. bucky helps him out.

word count: 2675

warnings: period typical homophobia and homophobic attitudes, handjobs, brief objectification of women, brief talks of war, guys being dudes

notes: i began writing this before i watched mota yesterday so forgive me if anything seems out of character. this came to me in a dream at three am and i've been thinking about it since. this is also inspired by @precious-little-scoundrel so thank you for your lovely blog marina. i hope everyone enjoys!

his entire body radiated with a dull ache deep in his joints. as soon as his back hit the bed, his eyes drooped as if he’d fall asleep right then and there. and yet, he laid there, staring at the dull gray ceiling.

he always did this. he yearned to sleep, but as soon as the time to lay down came, he couldn't fall into a sound slumber. too many thoughts racing in his head, too much aching in his body– too much noise all around him. the hum of the rickety air conditioning, the faint mutters and laughs of his bunkmates as they brushed their teeth and got dressed for bed, his own breathing reverberating in his ears. it all was so mundane, but too overwhelming.

he shut his eyes, hoping sleep would just come to him. he tried to ignore it all– the sounds, the thoughts…but nothing. he was still awake.

the bed dipped next to him, and he didn’t even have to open his eyes to see who it was.

“finally outta the shower?” buck asked, hands tucked behind his head as he waited for a response. “you take forever in there. you're like a woman.”

“yeah yeah,” bucky dismissed, shoving buck playfully as he set his belongings down. “and you didn’t shower long at all. dunno how ya got anything clean in that time.”

“i’m very clean.” gale huffed, cracking one eye open. “i just don’t like showering with other people. i like my alone time.”

“uh huh. you just wanna be able to rub one out in there.”

gale sat up and shoved him, laughing in surprise at his friend's brazen words. it was always like this. bucky, being brazen and outgoing, all while buck watched from the sidelines. he liked it that way. he always felt a weird joy when bucky would tell random stories of reckless things he did in the past, or when he insisted on singing after a few drinks at the bar. he’d always say that he was a prude when he resisted his drunken tugging of his arm, trying to urge him on stage with him. buck never took it personally though– mainly because bucky was right. compared to most of the men he’d been around he was prude. he didn’t gamble, drink– hell, he didn't even have one night stands. many of the guys got drunk and went home with the first broad they saw, but buck didn’t feel anything towards the women who would brazenly grip at his arms and called him a stud. sure, he’s made out with a few of them– and almost made a mess of his uniform– but he never took them back to base. he didn't want to lose his purity like that. sure, he’d done plenty of heavy petting and dry humping, but he’s never went all the way with a girl before. it just didn't happen.

he got teased about it, sure, but he stuck by his guns. he didn't see the big deal in rushing to stick your cock into some random woman and then brag about it the next day. it all seemed very shallow to him. he was always told that sex is special– between two people with a strong, loving bond. and he held that close to his heart. he actually was planning to save himself for marriage– but when you're a hormonal teen…its a little hard to fight those primal feelings.

“oh please, i haven't done that since i got here.” buck said earnestly, laying back down and stretching out. “honestly, i haven't done that in almost a year.”

bucky laughed. “no way. i always joked about you bein’ a prude, y’know, but this is a little far.” he cracked. “where ya too busy? or are you actually that green?”

“i’m not green,” buck grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “i jus’-- goddamn, i dunno. i wanna save myself, y’know. i try not to do it too often.”

“good god man, you didn't even go for it before you were here? you’re crazy.” egan snorted. “now you’re stuck ‘round all these guys.”

buck just shrugged, laying back down and sighing heavily. “oh well. what can ya do?”

it was quiet, for a moment. buck could feel that bucky was was there, but he was silent– like he was contemplating. buck opened one eye and gazed at him, confused at the way his lips were twitching.

“you…you really aren’t gonna…indulge in any ladies out here?” bucky said, softly, like he was ashamed of asking. “you’re gonna lose it, man. it’s only been a week and i already feel all pent up.”

buck felt his face heat up slightly at the implication that his friend was horny. he bit his lip, dragging his eyes away from his black-haired friend as he let those words soak in. “really?”

“yeah. i– it’s been a while for me too, actually. i didn't really think about how it’d only be us guys out here. shoulda got something before i came out here.”

despite buck’s stance on remaining celibate until his marriage, he strangely understood the other man. even though he hardly engaged in such things, he felt the tension in every room he walked in. everyone seemed taut, like a bowstring– waiting to snap. whenever they’d spar, workout, or shower, the air would be thick enough to cut with a knife. it was an unspoken thing– but everyone felt it. no one wanted to talk about it, because…well, what would that make them? they don't allow fairies in the force, that’s for sure. something so scandalous couldn't even be thought about, unless you wanted a good beat down by every other troop in sight.

“i dunno. i think the last time i did it left me satisfied for a while,” he lied, not wanting to admit that he had the same fire simmering, albeit dimly, in his belly. he never felt like this, so what the hell was his deal?

“bullshit,” bucky swore. “no way your fist leaves you satisfied for years to come. you need a woman, buck. one that’ll rock your world.”

“you know i’m savin’ myself.” buck hummed. “besides, hookin’ up with some random woman doesn't sound appealing.”

“you’re wrong, man.” bucky sighed, laying down next to buck and resting his head on his hands. “it’s magical. raw. primal. makes you feel like a real man.” he grunted, inhaling deeply. “hooked up with this one chick– god, she was gorgeous. eager to go down on me– and she gripped ‘round me so damn tight i thought she cut off my circulation. kept bouncin’ on me and talking about how big i was. goddamn.”

buck’s cheeks flushed at the words leaving his friends mouth. the way he spoke about the woman like she was a pastime or a hobby and not a person was surprising. he could see it, though, clear in his minds eye– a young lady, moaning and panting, bouncing eagerly on bucky’s thick cock, bucky panting and calling her a good girl–

he paused. why was he thinking about bucky so much? and why did it make his face flush even more?

“issat right,” buck mumbled, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach from his lewd imagination.

“uh huh. god– i dream about her all the damn time. what i’d give to be buried in her now.”

silence again. only this time, it felt more tense than the last. the vision that buck had– bucky’s cock, his breathless voice, his flushed face. it made him all hot, like no other girl had before. it scared him.

“you ever been with a girl? obviously not all the way– but at all?”

“of course i have.” buck said defensively. “i– i just…it was high school, maybe. real nice girl, real pretty. she came over to study, and we ended up making out. i was still kinda new to the whole….sex thing, so i told her no when she tried to go all the way. we did end up uh…. rubbin’ on each other though. felt nice.”

“and this was high school?” bucky asked. “and you haven’t been with a girl since?”

buck shook his head. bucky stared at him for a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes as he gazed at the blonde. “damn. no wonder you're so damn tense all the time.”

“i’m not tense.”

“you are. you’re always quiet– thinkin’. you never let loose. i bet if you got a handy you’d be as rowdy as the rest of us.”

“quit bein’ dirty.” buck tsked, smacking bucky’s chest lightly. “i don’t need a handy. i need some goddamn sleep.”

“i’m tellin’ ya man. you need to get laid.”

“i’ll smack ya if you say somethin’ pervy again.” buck promised, making bucky snicker softly.

it was quiet again. buck closed his eyes, but he felt as restless as earlier. moreso, even. he kept thinking about bucky’s last hookup, the way he described her, how tight she was. was she really tight? or was bucky just that big, like the girl said?

and there his mind went again. thinking about bucky. that wasn't normal. he needed to stop thinking about bucky and think about girls. like the girl he frotted with in his childhood bed- whatever her name was. the way she grabbed onto him, panted into his neck, shivering and shaking something awful as she came undone all over his slacks. he remembered being shocked at the gush, his cock still unbelievably hard down his thigh after two orgasms. he remembered how bad it hurt, being hard for so long. he wondered if being in a girl was better. he wondered if bucky’s cock stayed hard after he came inside that girl. no– stop. don’t think about the man right next to you. why did he keep–

“you’re breathin’ funny.” bucky observed.

“no i’m not.” buck argued, flustered at how his friend picked up on his heavier breathing. he prayed that he didn't look down and see his dick tenting in his sweats.

he must've. no. he did. his eyes trailed down the lean length of buck’s torso, landing on the large bulge under the fabric of his sweats.

“see what i mean?” bucky breathed, his voice lower in tone than normal. “you're so tense, buck,” he muttered, his hand moving from behind his head. “always so damn tense.”

buck swallowed hard as he felt bucky’s hand rest on his thigh, slowly inching upwards towards his aching cock. his breath stuttered, his face red-hot– but he didn't make a move to stop him. not at all.

bucky’s hand slid into his loose sweats, past the blonde curls, and gently grasped at his cock. buck inhaled sharply, his hand moving to grab bucky’s wrist in a moment of panic. bucky halted, looking up at buck tentatively.

oh, god.

“don't think,” bucky muttered, giving buck a soft squeeze. “jus’ lemme help, yeah? lemme get rid of that tension.”

buck let go slowly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. bucky’s hand gave him a curious squeeze, making buck grunt and rock his hips up into his grasp. slowly, hesitantly, bucky started to move his hand up and down his throbbing shaft.

“oh, god,” buck swore, his face flushed dark red as he felt his stomach clenching with each milking tug of bucky’s hand. he felt himself, dripping with precum all over his friends hand like a girl. he hardly began touching him, and he was already….

“close,” buck warned, his voice breathy and embarrassed as he started to pant softly. “oh, jesus–”

“no,” bucky grunted, pulling his hand away abruptly, much to buck’s dismay. before the blonde could even complain, bucky was straddling him and staring holes into his pretty blue eyes. “wanna see you.”

buck swore his face was radiating light at this point, and bucky’s gaze wasn't helping one bit. it was so hot and intensely desirous that buck thought he was going to get eaten alive.

bucky grasped the blonde’s cock again, giving it small, rhythmic squeezes as he stared into buck’s eyes, taking in how they were welling up with tears– and how his flushed face was beading with sweat. it was so different, so absolutely wildy hot that buck, ever stoic, was falling apart below him.

buck had never had someone look at him so hotly before– not even that girl back then. it was making him nervous, but also hot and needy. the thought that his friend wanted him carnally set a fire in his stomach and his heart.

he began pumping him slowly, twisting his wrist and squeezing, all with an expertise that shocked him a little. he could still hear the buzzing of the ac and the quiet conversations of the other troops as his mouth fell open, head falling into the plush pillows behind him.

bucky’s breathing was growing heavier. he could feel the other man’s heat as he used his thumb to swipe at his leaking slit, his breath catching as buck gasped beneath him. the blonde swore he felt a certain hardness poking at his thigh, but he didn't care at all right now. he needed to cum. he needed bucky to make him cum.

“say my name.” bucky demanded, his face flushed as he began jerking buck’s cock faster. “need to hear ya say my name when you cum.”

“bucky–”

“nah. louder.” he demanded, his own breath speeding up and becoming ragged as he stroked buck faster. “scream it. yell it. make sure all our boys know.”

“fuck–” buck whimpered, his cool, stoic demeanor completely gone as he bucked his hips up into his friends fist, moaning like a cheap whore. “b-bucky!”

“that’s it. fuck– no one can make you feel like this–” he panted, speeding up his ministrations. “can they, buck? i’m the only one. don’t– ngh- ever let me catch ya with anyone else. i’ll kill ‘em.”

“bucky,” buck whimpered, his stomach clenching one final time as his orgasm washed over him, a fire like he hadn't experienced in forever. his cock shot thickly over the front of bucky’s shirt, making the other man groan and bite his lip as his friend came apart. the way bucky was straddling him, stroking him through his orgasm, the faint sounds of his friends voices through the thin wall– oh, fuck.

he dissolved into pathetic little tremors and whines as he came down, his cock bubbling weakly at the tip. bucky was panting hard, his face red and eyes hungry as he gazed at the blonde. suddenly, buck was sure that there was a hardness prodding at him.

silence.

“you–” buck panted, reaching out to grasp bucky’s erection, only to be stopped. “wha–”

“don’t worry about me.” he mumbled. “fuck, everyone’s gonna be here soon. jus’--” he stuttered, clambering off of buck awkwardly, tucking him back into his sweats. “get some sleep, buck.”

buck was too tired to try and chase after him as he scrambled away. his body felt heavy as he closed his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

when he awoke, he went straight to the breakfast hall. he felt like last night was some fever dream he had cooked up in his fucked up mind.

he sat at a table near the window, graciously taking the coffee he was given. only a few minutes later, the chair in front of him had been filled by his friend.

it was dead silent. then, bucky finally spoke, his voice calm and steadier than buck expected.

“sleep good last night?”

buck’s face flushed slightly, but he nodded, his eyes not leaving his plate.

“good.” bucky hummed, leaning back in his chair. “got a mission. you right and ready to fly?”

“you know it.”

“that’s my boy.” bucky smiled, and buck hated that he got butterflies in his stomach from it. “i’ll see ya in the air. don’t fall asleep in the seat, y’hear me?”

buck smiled, taking a sip from his bittersweet coffee. “don’t count on it.”

taglist: @mooodyblue @lauvmyself @kaiistheguy @slowsweetlove @lillypink

[archangeldyke-all]

omg sevika x reader who is annoyingly oblivious to sevika's advances.

*grabs readers face and stares intensely* "i like you"

"i like you too sev!" *while being completely unaware that it was a confession*

this is so cute omg

men and minors dni

sevika's been in love with you since the day you met. she tried to ignore it for as long as she could, but the feeling persisted. first, for weeks, then months. and finally, when a year rolled around and she still got butterflies every time you so much as smiled at her or your fingers brushed, she finally admitted to herself that she loves you.

it took her a month to work up the nerve to tell you. and when she finally did, she was so nervous she thought she was going to piss herself.

you noticed, of course, you're her best friend, if anyone's gonna notice sevika's nervous it's you.

you'd grabbed her shaking hands in yours, your eyes wide and worried as you looked up at her. sevika tried to ignore the way your touch made her warm, and took a shaky breath before speaking.

"i think. i think i like you." she'd said.

she'd expected you to be surprised, or maybe disgusted, or maybe laugh a bit. but she didn't expect you to giggle and smile sweetly, squeezing her hands in yours and shrugging.

"well duh, sev, we're best friends. i like you too." you'd said, before dragging her to sit beside you on the couch and flipping through channels on the television.

sevika was shocked. completely silent as she stared at you, her eyes bugging out of her head. you didn't notice, of course, too invested in finding a show to watch. you just cuddled against her like you always do, and sevika gulped before pulling you closer to her chest.

so... she had to be a little more obvious. that's fine. sevika can do obvious.

but apparently you can't.

she made it a point to give you incredibly flirty compliments, all of which you'd just giggled at and returned, seemingly thinking she was being platonic.

"i can't stop staring at your tits in that shirt."

"sev, you could be hypnotized by tits on a marble statue." you'd said, laughing. which, yeah, she probably could, but that's not the point.

"you have a great ass."

you'd snorted and smacked her ass, making her jump. "so do you. especially in those pants."

"i find you incredibly attractive. you have an amazing personality."

you'd sighed sadly and leaned your head on her shoulder. "i dunno. i think i'd have a girlfriend by now if all those things were true."

sevika's got nothing else to lose, at this point. you're driving her fucking crazy, and she wants to make you hers just as bad as she wants to tease you about how fucking oblivious you are.

so, she's going all out.

you'd given her the spare key to your place a few months ago, and sevika let herself in this afternoon. she's been working since. she hopes to god you like her back, because it's going to be really awkward for her to clean up the thousands of rose petals on your floor, the hundreds of heart balloons hovering in the air, and the dozens of lit candles if you don't.

she's made dinner, which is waiting in the stove. she's bought wine, which is waiting on the counter. she's got romantic music playing, and she's dressed herself up in her best suit. all she has to do now is wait for you to get home.

she tries to remind herself of all the evidence she has that proves you'll react positively-- once you finally get the message through your thick skull that sevika likes you.

you're always spending time with her. you're always touching her subconsciously-- a hand playing with hers, your fingers in her hair. you've told her many times that you find her attractive, and anytime she mentions a hookup, you get this sad, far away look in your eye. you like her back. she's almost certain.

she doesn't have to wait much longer to figure it out, though, because she can hear you fiddling with the doorknob outside your home. sevika takes a deep breath, and clenches her hands into fists.

you walk into your home and immediately pause, blinking around at the decor that's decorating your living room. you're so distracted by your confusion that you don't notice sevika until she clears her throat. you jump.

"sevika?" you ask. "what's going on?"

"i-- i wanted to talk to you about something." sevika says, her heart in her throat. you blink.

"what's all this?" you ask, tugging at a balloon string. sevika opens her mouth to answer, but you cut her off before you can, your face melting in horror. "fuck, do you have a girl here? shit sev, you shoulda told me you needed my place for a date-- i woulda gone and stayed at yours!" you say, turning to walk back out of your own home.

sevika would laugh if she wasn't so fucking fed up with your cluelessness.

"what the fuck are you talking about?" sevika asks, reaching out to grab your wrist before you can leave. "you think i brought a girl to your place?"

"i know you don't like having women in your own home."

"except you." she says. you blink.

"well yeah, but i don't count." you say, shaking your head. sevika huffs.

"so you think i came over to your house, without your permission, and littered it with all this lovey-dovey crap, just to impress a different girl?!" she asks. you blink. "who the fuck would i do all of this for? i don't know anyone who'd like this shit except you!"

you furrow your brow. "this... is for me?" you ask. sevika nods, thinking you're finally starting to get it. you aren't. "why? sevika-- i know i complain about being single but if you hired me an escort for the night i'm gonna kill you." you whisper, eyeing your bedroom like you're scared a woman in lingerie will come sauntering out at any moment.

sevika groans, and then she laughs. you pout, trying to figure out what's so funny, and sevika laughs so hard she starts to cry.

"i don't get it-- is this a bad prank or something?" you ask. sevika doubles over, her hand still wrapped around your wrist as she laughs at you. you huff. "sevika-- stop laughing at me! tell me what's going on!"

"you're an idiot!" she says between giggles. you huff.

"so you trash my house with valentines decor and insult me-- is that it? are you filming this or something, is this an internet trend? you know i don't keep up with that shit." you ask. sevika falls into another round of laughter, pulling you closer to her as you try to break free of her grasp. you just sigh, watching your best friend laugh at you.

"i'm in love with you." sevika says, a smile on her lips as she wipes tears from her eyes. you roll your eyes.

"i know, i know, i entertain you endlessly with my naivety when it comes to internet culture--"

"no, dumbass, i'm in love with you!" she says, still smiling. she releases your wrist to grab your face in her hands, looking you in the eye as she speaks. "i'm in love with you. i want to be in a relationship with you-- more than friends. like girlfriends. and lovers. and hopefully someday wives, though i doubt you'll know when i'm trying to propose to you, so that's gonna be your responsibility. i've been trying to get your fucking attention for months. i've been flirting with you non-stop. i've asked you out on dates, multiple times! and you head is shoved so far up your own ass you didn't even realize! and i love you, even though you're clueless, so i tried to make it as fucking obvious as possible tonight-- but you managed to find a way to misconstrue that too." she says, giggling. you blink.

"is this--"

"it's not a prank." she cuts you off. "i've been in love with you since the day we met. you're so fucking funny, and so hot, and usually, with most things, pretty smart. and i've been trying to ask you out for months, and i'm sick of waiting for you to understand me. i'm laughing because you're incredibly dense, but i'm not joking in the slightest. i want you to be mine. i want to be yours." she finishes.

you blink. sevika's thumbs start gently sweeping across your cheeks, smiling at you as she watches your mind try to catch up.

"n-no you're not." you say. sevika snorts.

"i very clearly am, honey." she says, waving a hand behind her at all the romantic shit in your living room. "i never thought i'd do something as corny as this-- but i guess love makes you do stupid things." she says, shrugging.

you gulp. "b-but... you flirt with everyone!" you say. sevika laughs.

"no i don't-- i just flirt with you, and you think i flirt with everyone."

"you've been with like twenty girls since we met!"

"and i couldn't fucking settle on any of them 'cause none of 'em were you."

"sevika-- you're insanely fucking attractive." you say, looking at her like she's crazy. she laughs.

"so are you."

"but not in the same way! you're way out of my league!"

"is that what you really think?" she asks. you blink, and nod, and sevika's heart breaks a bit as she starts to understand just why you've been so clueless. "you're stupider than i thought." she says. you blink at her again, and sevika snorts. "sorry. i shouldn't be insulting you this much during a love confession." she leans forward and kisses your forehead, and she feels the way you freeze in her arms. "i think you're out of my league, honestly. you're way too fucking nice for someone as gruff as me, and you're so sweet it drives me crazy. you're the total package, baby, you're so hot it's actually a problem, and nobody makes me laugh like you, and if it's okay with you-- i'd like to kiss you about it. let me prove how serious i am." she says.

you gulp again, still confused and hesitant to believe your friend, but she's looking at you with puppy eyes, and you've never been able to deny her when she looks at you like that.

you nod, and sevika smiles, and then she gently, tentatively presses her lips against yours.

you never let yourself even consider the fact that sevika might like you back. it seemed so far flung and ridiculous, that the only time you wasted fantasizing was in your dreams, when your subconscious finally got a say.

but this kiss, this gentle, chaste, soft kiss, is better than any dream you've ever had. you whimper, something inside of you bursting open, and sevika hums, one of her hands coming down to wrap around your waist.

your heart's beating a mile a minute, and your mind is racing, and you feel like you're being electrocuted, but when sevika's tongue swipes across your lips, all of those things fade to the background, and the only thing you can think or feel is sevika sevika sevika sevika.

she pulls away smirking. you blink up at her with wide, sparkling eyes.

"oh." you say. sevika chuckles.

"so... you're starting to get it?" she asks. you slowly nod.

"i... i might get it a bit faster if you kiss me again, though." you whisper.

sevika grins, her sweet little gap tooth on full display, and your stomach flip-flops.

sevika likes you. no-- actually, she loves you. sevika loves you. fuck.

she leans back in to kiss you again, but you speak before she can.

"oh, i'm a fucking idiot." you whisper. sevika laughs again, and the sound makes the embarrassment fade a bit.

"not usually." she says, re-assuring you. you sigh.

"fuck. this whole time you've been flirting with me, haven't you?" you ask.

"i think i asked you out half a dozen times, babe. you somehow thought it was all just 'friend-dates.'" she says, teasing you. you groan.

"fuck."

"it's okay, though, because... because i think you finally understand." she says, smiling. you huff.

"s-say it again." you demand. sevika grins.

"i'm in love with you."

you melt, your knees going wobbly as your breath catches in your throat. sevika laughs at your reaction, kissing your cheek. it sends fireworks throughout your body, and you reach forward to grab fistfulls of her dress shirt.

"i love you too." you say.

sevika grins, and then she's kissing you again.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

[bunji-enthusiast]

If I'm not bothering you then can you make a sonic exe x reader?

Where exe is able to leave and go back into the game anytime he wants and reader isn't scared of him at all after the first time they met

Then during a strong storm (no rain just strong winds and loud thunder) the whole house becomes black and exe tries to use that to his advantage to scare reader, with her famous chase around the house as reader is litting some candles on but of course he fails in scaring them so in the end they just end up cuddling together on the couch for the rest of the night

It's very simple it's just what I have on my mind for now sorry XD

Long Into The Abyss — Sonic.EXE

Note || that’s fine! A very neat idea :>

WC || 1,527

Sypnosis || Your a hard person to scare, he wonders how he can even deal with that. But soon enough he gives up on the idea.

The first time you had met him was the only time you truly were scared of your fluffy blue friend ridden with malice and lust for murder, though it was only upon those originally living in his world he had inflicted it upon. He thought it to be interesting to scare the hell out of you when your poor innocent soul came across his corrupted game.

Watching the way you panicked when trying to look for a way out for Tails was amusing, but when he had finally made his infamous appearance upon the screen. That was more amusing than anything, the way you screamed when he did. 

Now utter confusion just simply fills him when he realizes you aren’t as phased by his antics anymore, not even when he appears outside of the game in your house.

“What the hell?” He muttered when you continued playing various different routes of his game, he intentionally had created them on purpose to see if he could scare you again. Even then every time with your attempts to save Tails, Knuckles and even Eggman; you weren’t scared anymore. Just only cursing when you mess up.

“Dammit.” You curse under your breath when you're on one of the death routes, you kept forgetting about this specific one. 

“No no, no no-” 

The death screen appears, detailing the very specific death of your poor character. You wince in an apologetic manner for putting him through it again. “Sorry, I’m trying my best here.” He then decides to appear right next to you, swirls of glitches and blurriness permeating his arrival.  

“Oh hey!” You said, noticing him from the corner of your eye.

“How are you not afraid?” He interjects in a curious yet amused tone, sincerely he was curious to know how you can maintain such a calm and ready manner even while playing. The demonic hedgehog floats around you from behind, while he was albeit rude and murderous at times, he wasn’t about to break your concentration. 

“I dunno?” You shrug, before adding on, “I got used to it I guess.” He raises a brow, seemingly confused with the answer you gave. But only with humans could they actually answer this way, it would only make sense, he concludes. For a few moments he blinks, giving you an incredulous look nonetheless. 

“I see.”

Then he disappears into the air, leaving you alone in your own company once more. You were actually getting used to the bloody hedgehog, in a way. You wonder if he will come back around at all once again. “Too bad.” You shrug, turning your attention completely back on the game. You wanted to see what else you could find while you still were in the game, you thought he was interesting for even creating more routes.

You know this because you remember them all not being there near the beginning, since your first official meeting with the self-proclaimed god. 

“Alright Knuckles, let's see if I can do a better job with you.” You pause in your gait, feeling a little hopeless for continually failing them multiple times in a row. You wonder if you should just actually stop playing the game altogether, you caused them enough pain. 

‘Am I actually causing them pain? They aren’t even real.’ You thought to yourself, but this wasn’t anything new to you. You often just played games for fun, this one in particular wasn’t any different, even if it was a corrupted game file. 

You didn’t know what to do, but just searched far and wide – as extensively as possible. You grew up with them sort of, they were your childhood imaginary friends. There for you so that you didn’t feel so alone at recess, in school or just anywhere in general. Popularity was not your most dominant trait growing up, especially not now. 

But they were your friends, so was he. 

–

The whole storm threw you completely off guard, you just wanted to go back home. You got yourself caught in the middle of it when you dropped off something at a friend’s, you certainly didn’t expect it least of all during your way back home. But you were close to being there, that was the fortunate part of it. 

“Crap-” A strong wind nearly threw you off course, but you immediately corrected yourself and got back on track. Your house was appearing in view, finally you could pull back into the driveway. 

Once in the driveway, you turned your car off and opened the door, you suddenly got the wind knocked out of you when you left the car. You heaved as you caught your breath, trying your best to close the door then ran straight for the door. Even in the midst of it all, you were surprised that you managed to find your way back in the dark. 

The loud sounds of all the thunder didn’t help you though.

You yelped as another loud sound of crackling thunder resounded in your ears, this certainly by no means was a normal storm. This was a very harsh storm, you had to get inside.

“C-Come on,” You shook in the cold outside, fiddling with your key to unlock the door. It was a struggle that demanded concentration and patience, nothing of which you really had right now. “Sonuva- ugh.” Your lips pursed in tight posterity as you finally succeeded in unlocking the door. 

It made you question why you shouldn’t have just gotten one of those security locks, or even the padlocks would’ve just worked fine and dandy. 

You look around at your familiar house, finding the usual safety and comfort in it. Only problem being, the whole house was smothered in darkness. You could’ve sworn you left at least some lights on, you were aware you usually forget to turn them off before you leave, but they really would help in your predicament right now.

Your feet were light, you creeped around the house as if you were afraid something would suddenly jump out at you from beyond the dark. Sometimes you weren’t afraid of the dark, other times you were very afraid of the damned dark. Something flickered in the corner of your peripherals, causing you to jump. 

It felt like the ligament holding your eyes tightly in their sockets will just fall out from the way they had nearly bulged that far out. 

“Jesus christ-”

Only a few minutes had passed now, successfully lighting a few candles around the house. You definitely felt more comfortable and less afraid now. Suddenly you could hear a few thumps resound from behind you, you looked behind your shoulder to see it was him. 

“RUN.”

You absolutely didn’t need to be told twice, not when he was feeling particularly murderous right now. Dying this young was not on your bucket list, you took off and immediately grabbed the lighter to begin lighting every other candle in the house. 

Still, he had spoken while he chased you, “You're fast! Not bad at all.” You could hear that bone-chilling laugh echo throughout the halls. Still, you didn’t allow yourself to falter. 

NOPE, NOPE, NOPE–

You find yourself at the last candle you could find, and light it. You turn around to see the bloody hedgehog standing behind you, no longer possessing a ‘god-fearing’ appearance. He just looked innocent and rather small compared to you. 

He huffs and sighs, shoulders relenting in defeat. “You're impossible, you little gnat.” At his words, you chuckle and nod, crossing your arms with a tilt of your head, “So I’ve been told, can’t scare me easily with all this light now can you?” You stuck your tongue out when you finished speaking. 

“I suppose not.” He snaps with a very clearly annoyed disposition, legs folding into a crossed sitting position while his elbow laid to rest for him to rest his cheek on the palm of his hand. His other one tapped the end of his knee on his other leg. 

You shot a glare at the demon-possessed hedgehog, “Well don’t be like that, we could just maybe be cuddle buddies instead?”

One of his ears flicker at the possible insinuation in your offer, brows furrowing as he replied, “What kind of a ridiculous demand is that?”

Your head rolls around as if you were trying to bite back some sort of desperation spilling from your words, you inhale, mouth opened as you attempt to speak. Then you close your mouth, lips pursing in a bout of self-defeat. 

He notices this, his ears falling flat as he sighs. Voice glitching with a bout of nervousness, “Get on the couch.”

You let out a squeak of excitement, not having to wait for him to repeat it again you had already made your way there. You patted the cushion seat beside you, wanting not to wait another second. He wonders to himself why he even agreed to this in the first place, he wasn’t like this to anyone else who played his game.

So why do you seem so different? You were just another possibility of a victim.

But he gives in, climbing onto the couch with you.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Finally Free

Summary: Harry is well aware that his shows are a place for people to be themselves, and he's often asked to help them "come out". But tonight he's helping someone special, to both him and YN, which for him makes it that much more amazing!

Warnings: Absolutely none, and please treat people with kindess

"Are you sure Daisy wants to do this? Here? Tonight?"

"That's what she said." YN shrugs. "You do it all the time for people… what are you worried about?"

Harry shrugs, looking over the homemade sign in his hands.

"Dunno. This one's just diff'rent." He states, turning his head to look at his love. "She's your sister, and your parents are about to hear her big news. It's 'lot of pressure!"

"Harry…" YN places her hand gently on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb along his collarbone, something they both know helps to calm his nerves. "She trusts you! That's why she asked to do it this way."

He nods in agreement. He and YN's sister Daisy became friends as soon as he started dating YN, despite being 5 years younger. He has known what Daisy identifies as for a while now, as she felt safe enough to tell the pair first. He's honored that she wants to include them, or at least him, in this important moment. Coming out to their parents is a big step. It's not as if they wouldn't be accepting, but it is still a huge moment and Harry just wants to make sure it goes right. That it's everything Daisy wants it to be.

"Alright." He states, letting out a large exhale in hopes to breathe out his own anxiety over the situation. "I won't let her down."

"I know you won't." YN replies, leaning up and placing a kiss on his cheek. "She knows you won't."

After raising the pink, purple, and blue flag for a fan in the audience, he turns to them once again to offer some encouragement.

"Go out and conquer and enjoy your bi life as hard as you possibly can! Make some noise for Alfie ev'rybody!"

The entire crowd cheers in celebration, which builds up the excitement, but also the nerves, for what he is about to do next.

"Now, I apologize. I know I said that was the last sign, but I do have one more person that has asked me to help them come out, and now is as good a time as any."

"Umm… can I have that, please?" He bends down at the very front of the walkway, reaching his hand out to the crew member he entrusted with this specific piece of bright paper.

He holds his other hand over his eyes, shielding them from the light with his microphone, and walks about until he reaches the very spot where he sees those familiar faces.

"There you are!" He exclaims, a wide grin on his face now, every ounce of anxiety melting away. He holds up the sign, checking that the big screen is capturing the bright colored letters, outline in glitter pen, and shows of the words that read 'HELP ME COME OUT HARRY'.

"This person is a close, personal friend of mine. We've known each other for a good while now, and she asked me to help her t'night. I feel very honored, thank you."

He notices YN wrap her arms around her sister, their parents on the other side of Daisy with seemingly no clue what is about to happen.

"Could I get some… hmm… upbeat sparkly music now?" He asks of the band, knowing his friend will appreciate making this moment just a bit more unique for her. Like he's been telling himself, he wants this to be everything that she wants it to be.

"Ooh, I like that." He approves, slightly swaying his hips from side to side. "Very good."

The crowd laughs, and claps. He assumes it's mostly for his antics, but hopes it raises the anticipation for YN's sister in a positive manner.

"Daisy!" He shouts, watching the other family members immediately shoot their gazes over to her. "We are doing this, are you ready?"

Daisy nods, quickly turning her head to her parents as she waits for Harry to make her declaration.

"Daisy, t'night, wants her wonderful family to know that she is… oh, wait, I need a flag!" He stops, not intending to stall, but finding relief in the comedy it has appeared to create. He places the sign down, and leans over the side, grabbing a rainbow flag being handed to him by a fan. "Thank you very much."

"Alright. Now we're both ready." He chuckles, sending a grin and wink to the girl as she waits. "Now once I raise this flag, Daisy, you are officially out. So, to Daisy's family, and to all the amazing people here in London t'night…"

Harry begins to jog around the stage, flowing to flag up and down, keeping it low and edging the moment for just a few seconds longer.

"Daisy is…" He raises the flag one more time, keeping it at his shoulder. "Coming out as…" He continues, lowering it down to his thigh.

He looks over to the band, signaling for the music to get bigger and louder. Harry suddenly shoots the flag up higher than his head, as far as his arm can reach upward.

"Gay!!"

The entire venue cheers. Fans, staff, and crew alike. But most importantly, as Harry runs to the place he can get the best view of his friend, he sees YN and her parents embracing Daisy in a big, tight, loving, and accepting hug.

Tears start to form in his eyes as he continues to wave the flag above his head.

"Daisy! You did it! You're officially out and I am so proud of you!" He shouts, hoping the shakiness in his voice didn't prevent the words to fully be heard and understood. "I hope I did this moment justice for you! Ev'rybody, give it up one more time for Alfie, and Daisy, and for anyone else who has been brave enough to share who they truly are with those they love. You are free!"

Harry focuses his gaze on YN, Daisy, and their family, watching all the love being shared between them.

"You are finally free!"

This blog is a safe space. I celebrate all of you who have been able to come out and share who you truly are with the world. I stand by with all of you whom have yet to do so, no matter the reason. I am proud of every single one of you! Happy Pride Month to all!

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