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chelseeebe · 2 months ago

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(i only have) eyes for you

18+. mdni. smut. violence! horror themes throughout!! ghostface!eddie

day seven of spooky week and happy halloween freaks!!! i can’t believe i did it… seven days of consistent posting has taken genuine years off of my life lol. pls pretend they’re in college for this, i wrote it entirely that way and then decided they were going to be in steve’s house.. who knows

a/n: i listened to this song a lot while writing this because it is so creepy but so perfect for this fic! this was sorta kinda rushed but i’ve been working this entire week so finding the time to really delve into it the way i wanted to :,(

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

tap tap tap

the sound of something, or really someone rattles against your window, the faint sounds of someone whistling follow shortly after.

despite being wise to eddie’s tricks, the ominous tune makes your skin prickle, too spooked by the news of some masked murderer to think straight.

your window cracks open, the wooden frame scraping upwards loudly, a prolonged creak that signals that whatever it was, was now inside.

his cologne gives him away first, and then the lingering smell of weed that catches up to your nose soon after.

it was eddie, basking in the moonlight, just waiting for you to turn and see him.

“oh my fucking god,” you hiss, “you scared the shit out of me!” scowling as he pulls his limbs through the window.

he wastes no time in kicking off his shoes and practically diving across the room to land atop of you. his heaving chest pressed against yours, finding your frowning lips for a gentle kiss.

“‘m sorry sweetheart,” pouting his lips in an attempt to mock your worried tone, eddie found it endearing really, that you cared about him so.

“there’s a murderer out there, you know?” you scold.

“mhm, is there?”

“yes,” dropping the stern expression the second his hands find the hem of your shirt, delving underneath to grasp your waist, “and i’d really appreciate if you didn’t die.”

“i’m not gonna die,” he says entirely too confidently, “and neither are you.”

“what were you doing out there?”

“i had to.. do some business,” hoping you’d get the hint.

your upper lip snarls, having never liked the fact he dealt on the side. it was mostly a bit of weed to freshmen but the weekends were always busier. “oh,” you huff, running your hands along his sore shoulders.

“you asked,” eddie states plainly. it wasn’t as if he was entirely lying, because he had dropped off a gram for some useless kid.

he had just neglected to tell you what he and steve had done to the kid afterwards.

your eyes roll back, running your fingers up his neck and into his mane of hair, “i wish i hadn’t,” though judging by the fact that you hadn’t kicked him out, you can’t be too mad.

eddie hums, desperately trying to change the subject by trailing his hand further upwards, palming your boob with a soft groan.

“and what if i told you that i was the scary killer?” his knee shifts slightly, moving on top of yours to keep it pressed to the mattress. he’s got you trapped beneath his body, his large hands enveloping both of your wrists.

if you didn’t know eddie so well, you probably would’ve been much more afraid than you were. but you do know him, this had to be some stupid prank, something he’d thought up while high. so you do what he wants you to do and play into it. if he wants to pretend that he’s a weirdo then fine, you can play that game too.

“oh yeah?” you smirk, a feeble attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, “what’re you gonna do to me, mr ghostface?” rutting your hips up to meet his, sighing softly when you feel his hardened cock.

the fact that you’re even into this is simply abhorrent but you can already feel the wet patch growing in your panties, needly bucking your hips desperate for any friction to satiate the growing ache between your thighs.

he chuckles lowly, readjusting his grip on your wrists, leaving one hand pinning them both above your head, “well first..” his breath hot on your cheeks, “i’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” his pupils grow larger, darker somehow, “and then..” prodding his forefinger to your chest, slowly tracing down the length of your torso, “i might just gut you,” his eyes follow his finger all the way down.

you quiver under his touch, breathless. holy fuck. it’s disgusting. it is. but you can’t help yourself, practically panting with animalistic need. it’s not like he was actually going to kill you see, eddie was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a murderer.

“please,” you beg, squirming as his hand slips into the waistband of your jeans. he’s so cold, fingers like blocks of ice that make your skin prickle.

“you want that? hmm?”

you’re gasping at this point, pleading with him to just touch you. he had gotten what he’d wanted from this game so why couldn’t he hurry up? you’re literally jelly beneath him, malleable and just so eager to touch.

“gotta use your words baby.. i wanna hear you,” pausing his descent into your underwear, much to your dismay. legs springing apart as a sort of encouragement to get him to continue.

“yes.. yes i want that,” desperately panting underneath his sly smirk, he’s enjoying this far too much and you can’t help but to just give it to him. so desperate to please, even if it was borderline psychotic.

“good,” he breathes, curling his fingers around the waistband of your sodden underwear. his teeth emerging to graze upon your neck, making sure to leave splotches of violet and deep maroon so that everybody knew whose you really were.

your hips cant upward the second eddie’s fingers tease your hole, crying out for him to cut the shit and just touch you properly. he was a cruel man, unable to satisfy himself with any normal level of foreplay, no. for eddie, he needed to keep this charade up for as long as possible.

“you been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” using his other hand to control your chin, keeping your flickering gaze somewhat on his face, “waiting f’me all night.. i can feel it,” plunging his fingers into your sopping cunt, drawing a sharp hiss from your lips.

“think about you all the time,” you nod, whimpering against his mouth, keeping a strong grip on his neck.

eddie grins, the twinkle returning to his dark eye, letting the charade slip only slightly, “i know you do, and i know it because you never.. ever leave my mind,” his thumb beginning to swirl around your clit, letting go of your jaw to wrap his hands loosely around your neck instead.

“fuckk,” you shudder, canting your hips in response to his fingers gliding in and out of your hole, thumb performing laps around your clit and sensitive folds.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he utters, dotting hungry kisses to your wetted lips, punctuating his longing words. “i just wanna keep you like this forever,” the hunger returning to his blown out pupils, fingers squeezing your throat.

he wouldn’t hurt you, not on purpose. but his grip was getting mighty tight, restricting your breath as your leg slides up between his. the twisting in your abdomen only worsens, dizzying as the pleasure intensifies.

squeezing out a garbled, “eds,” that makes him loosen his grip, flashing back to reality as you squeeze around his fingers, thrashing around underneath his body as your orgasm rocks your bones, the sweetest sounds fill the room.

“that’s it sweetheart,” eddie coos, sliding his hand from your shorts to grasp your hip, kissing over his previously made markings.

“i love you,” muttering breathlessly as you regain control of your limbs.

he breathes heavily into your neck, cocking his head up to meet your gaze, “i love you too,” beaming at your lovesick gaze, praying to god that you’d never find out about the horrific things he was truly doing tonight.

eddie’s idea of date night usually entails him being able to whisk you off somewhere dark and alone at some point during the night. so when you’d suggested a drive-in movie, he’d been positively over the moon.

he’d thought seeing a nightmare on elm street was a little on the nose considering the shit he’d been up to recently but you couldn’t know and besides, it meant you’d be curled into his shoulder for the majority of the movie anyway.

you sit now, with your face buried into his shoulder, both arms clinging tight to his.

not because of the movie though. no, this was because his right hand had crept underneath your skirt, pumping his fingers in and out of your soaked hole.

it wasn’t as if every other couple weren’t doing the exact same thing, it was an unspoken custom of the drive-in experience.

“wait,” you pant, “let me-,” letting go to reach down, pushing your seat further back. your fingers curl around something plastic, reemerging with the damning mask he’d shoved beneath the seat. “what the fuck is this?” you shriek, sitting straight up.

eddie’s blood runs cold, frozen as you flap the plastic mask in his face. it wasn’t even supposed to be in here, let alone for you to find so easily.

“oh my god,” he sighs, thinking on his toes, “it was for a prank,” grabbing the rubber from your fingers, “me and steve were gonna scare argyle and jonathan… it’s not what you think babe,” hoping that measly excuse would be enough to get you off of his back.

“a prank?” you hiss, “is that funny to you? pretending to be some psycho murderer?” funnily enough, he didn’t really have to pretend.

“no!” he frowns, pettily grabbing at the mask though you keep it out of reach, “that’s why we didn’t do it,” sounding completely desperate as he’s lying through his teeth, “sweetheart, i know what it looks like but i promise it’s not like that,” the guilt ripples through his chest, he didn’t want to lie to you but what choice did he have?

you frown, gripping the cracked plastic as if it could tell you the answer itself, “that’s not funny eddie,” lowering your clenched fist at last, “what if someone had seen you? what if someone else found this?”

you’re angry, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. pupils dilated and your jaw clenched, he couldn’t bare to ever see you like this. god only knows how you’d react if you ever found out he was truly responsible for these killings.

“i’m sorry,” utterly exasperated, you couldn’t find out, not now, not ever. “i wasn’t thinking.. i’ve just been-,” his nostrils flare, hoping you could forget about this and quickly, “thinking about everyone dying, you know? i’m scared,” grabbing your hands to really accentuate his point.

“we’re all scared, eds,” his nickname allowing him to breathe at last, you’d never use eds when you were mad, never. “that doesn’t mean you should start pretending to kill people too, you’re so.. stupid,” said endearingly, far calmer than you were five minutes ago.

“i know.. i’m sorry baby,” squeezing your fingers together, “i love you, okay?”

your pout could solve wars, an immediate punch to his gut that had him instantly crawling on his knees for forgiveness. it’s no different now, jutting your bottom lip out with a slight quiver, vowing him to never make such a stupid mistake again.

eddie drives this time, rushing back from the large house they’d been at. he doesn’t even know the kids name, he just knows his spleen no longer resided within his gut.

this one was his idea, some kid that’d stiffed him for a couple grams a few months ago. stupid stuff really, but they’d needed to throw the cops off the scent.

“so,” steve begins, pulling eddie from his head, “you still wanna do this?”

he didn’t, not really. not while you were there.

“i don’t see any other way we can end this,” he sighs, turning onto the darkened street, “it has to end,” you were getting too wise, thumbing at the scratch marks on his arm or questioning why he was always out so late recently.

nothing would ever be worth losing you. not in a million years.

“alright,” steve pouts, enjoying this far more than he first let on, “what’re you gonna do about that sweet girlfriend of yours? i think we should spook her first, really up the stakes,” bouncing around the cab of the van.

“absolutely not, don’t even think about getting her involved with this shit,” baring his teeth, appalled that steve would ever even suggest something like that. you were all wide spoke about, filling up his thoughts even as he was driving a knife into the back of jason carver.

“whaat? you don’t even wanna scare her a little? make her squirm,” his smirk evident in his tone.

“i mean it steve,” eddie warns, flashing the boy a harsh glare, “if you touch her, i’ll kill you.”

the car goes silent for a moment until steve cackles, his grin shining through, “not if i kill you first.”

eddie’s blood runs cold, they could end this entire thing right now if that was what he wanted. his knuckles glow white, gripping the steering wheel as opposed to wrapping his hands around steve’s neck, “are you fucking serious?” spitting his words out, “because i’ll do it steve, i won’t fucking hesitate.”

steve pauses, trying to control his heaving breaths, “calm down loverboy, i’m not gonna hurt her,” sucking his teeth as if eddie were the crazed one here, like he hadn’t just been speaking complete sense.

“don’t even joke about that shit,” slapping his hand against the leather steering wheel, “fucking dumbass, i can’t believe you,” looking to steve with utter disbelief in his eye.

“chill out man,” steve calms, relaxing into the seat, “i’m not gonna do anything, wouldn’t wanna piss you off now, would i?”

eddie had thought the entire night through, every second meticulously planned so that you’d never end up in the crossfire. he just needed your willing cooperation and reassurance that his partner in crime wouldn’t lose his mind.

the last, he can’t promise.

steve had been more erratic than ever, obvious that letting go of this power wasn’t anything he wanted. eddie doesn’t know how he can live with the guilt, but then, steve didn’t look into your bright eyes each night and feel that same stab of betrayal he did.

he takes your hand now, leading you up the steep staircase and into the bathroom, under the guise of getting away from the noise, locking the door behind him as you stand at the sink, only slightly concerned.

“what’s this for?” dipping your chin when his hands meet your waist, pressing your back against the cold porcelain.

“i just wanted to.. get away,” eddie remarks, knowing that any minute now, all hell would break loose downstairs and he’d have to stab the shit out of people he called his friend.

“oh yeah? that’s all you wanted me in here for?” walking your fingers up his chest, settling on his shoulder.

“well,” letting his grin cock to the side, “what do you suggest we do in here?”

you hum, a sweet sound that makes his heart race, “i think we could start with a bit of kissing and then.. see where it goes,” weaving your fingers into his hair, bringing his face closer.

“i like the sound of that,” he coos, but the guilt is unimaginable, your oblivious smile soon to be wiped off your face and it’ll be all his fault.

your lips connect in a harmonious symphony, he can feel your smile radiating against his skin, your fingertips tracing light lines on his scalp, a motion that would usually soothe him has him anxious instead.

he so terribly wants to stay here for the duration of the night, or at least until steve had pushed his luck too far and ended up dead.

but that can’t happen, without eddie, this wouldn’t end.

you shift closer, pressing your body to his with a hum, hoping to turn this into something more that he just can’t give right now.

as if by magic, there’s a loud thud from downstairs, a blood curdling scream that echoes through the walls follows behind. your eyes full of pure dread meet his when you spring apart.

“what the fuck was that?” tightening your grip on the back of his neck.

“i.. don’t know,” a barefaced lie, “i’m gonna go and check it out, alright?” coming eye-to-eye with you, a plea of the highest order.

“what? are you fucking crazy?”

“stay here,” he orders, kindly slipping your bra strap back onto your shoulder, “lock the door after me and don’t come out.”

“no! don’t leave me in here,” true terror ringing through your words. he wishes he could tell you that you truly have nothing to worry about. not like the rest of them.

“you’ll be okay,” eddie soothes, grabbing your hand, “i promise,” his thumb tracing patterns onto your wrist.

“please come back quickly,” pleading with him not to go, your fingers shaking as they grasp his arm.

“i will,” pressing his forehead to yours, giving one last squeeze before he breaks apart, “promise,” slipping out of the door, only waiting to hear the quiet click of the lock before scuffling along to steve’s room.

his outfit had been stored in steve’s closet, the dark robe and rubbery mask that had now become dark and cracked. something about the fabric cascading over his skin had him more confident than anything, forgetting all about who was killing, unfazed by their distant screams.

he tiptoes down the stairs, careful not to bump into any stragglers, the knife poised in his hand when he hits the kitchen, fingers twitching around the handle ready to slash whoever came out first.

something squeals from behind the door, giving away their location immediately, some girl steve had tried to fuck, an obvious victim, someone quick and easy, someone you wouldn’t care about too much.

the knife plunges into her side, the dark red liquid spurting out and all over the linoleum floor, he’s sure steve’s dad wouldn’t care too much.

steve stomps through the kitchen, eyeing the scene before nodding to eddie, gesturing he follow him into the living room. it’s a silent affair, they could never know who was listening.

but eddie does as he’s told, walking in to find a barely-breathing tommy hagan, his hand reaching out pathetically as his eyelids flutter and his lungs fill with blood. eddie’s never liked him, he certainly wouldn’t be sad to see him go.

after the house is emptied, steve was to dress tommy in his robe and mask, plant the knife in his fist and call the police. they’d rehearsed it a thousand times, how steve would slash himself with his knife and eddie would scurry back up to the bathroom with you, waiting until the cops came to get you.

steve’s laugh echoes through the quiet house, maniacal as he drives his blade into tommy’s gut, his last attempts at protesting come out as squeaks before the couch turns a deep red and the sputtering comes to a sudden stop.

but eddie doesn’t want to play that game.

steve was too sporadic, untrustworthy and downright stupid, if he were to be honest. who’s to say he’d never turn on eddie? kill him or worse, you? eddie couldn’t trust him, the boy was out of it, drunk on the power it gave him.

so instead of doing anything they’d rehearsed, eddie forces the knife into steve’s chest, quickly taking it out to drive another jab into his throat, deafening his screams. steve’s eyes full of confusion, a lingering look of betrayal that makes his chest sting, if only for a second.

his body thuds as it hits the floor, a garbled sound full of air escape his throat, an anguished cry that vaguely resembles eddie.

he stares down at his accomplices twitching body, a sadness twinging his heart. steve would undoubtedly still be alive if he hadn’t been stupid enough to start joking about hurting you, all he’d had to do was keep his mouth shut and let the night play out.

but he hadn’t. desperate to make some edgy joke that now lead to him bleeding out on his living room floor.

eddie clears his throat, unwilling to dwell on his emotions for too long. he had to dress tommy and find the phone. there was too much at stake now to let steve ruin this from beyond the grave.

out of the corner of his eye he spots that same glittering top that he’d left locked in the bathroom. he can’t believe you’d been stupid enough to come out of there. why you couldn’t just listen to him for once was completely beyond him.

he bounds along behind you, esnuring that absolutely nobody was skulking around the grand house before clamping one hand over your mouth, the other snaking around your hip to bring you to the cold, wooden floor.

you scream against his palm, vibrating the skin with your pleas for help. eyes wide and watering as they meet the mask, he’s not surprised, for all you know, the knife in his hand was going straight into your side next.

he straddles your waist, keeping your pressed into the floor and not a problem for him, “shh.. sh-shut up,” he hushes, ensuring that the hall really was empty before he revealed his identity.

the thrashing stops, stilling as the cogs slowly turn and his voice becomes familiar, a blood-chilling flash of hurt overtakes your fearful eyes instead.

bile rises in his throat, sick to his stomach with the fact that he could do this to you, make you so scared of him.

“it’s me, it’s me sweetheart,” frantically trying to get you to calm down, to maybe not be so angry at him when this was all over. “promise not to scream and i’ll let go,” itching to take his gloved hand from your mouth, to prove his love.

you nod hopelessly, flashing him an expression that he really can’t place, somewhere between terror, disgust and relief.

he does as he promised, removing his hand from your mouth to slide the mask up, hoping that maybe seeing his face would help, would make you not hate him.

“baby.. it’s not- i can explain everything to you, i just need..” panting his words, scrambling for some kind of excuse to get you back to safety, “you have to listen to me, okay? you trust me, don’t you?”

your face says anything but, watching your bottom lip tremble makes him fume, so incredibly pissed off that he was capable of this.

“please,” eddie begs, pleads even, “i’d never.. ever hurt you, you know that, right?”

“i.. i trust you,” the words squeaked rather than spoken, accompanied by salty streams falling down your cheeks.

he nods, daring to lift his mask. maybe eye contact would make you comfortable, “i’m gonna take you back to the bathroom.. okay? wait for me.. i’ll be five minutes, yeah?” running his knuckles over your mascara stained cheek, “and then i’ll tell you everything,” his tone reeking of desperation.

much to his surprise, and utter delight, you lean into his hand, nodding with your pitiful trembling lip, “okay.. okay,” so innocent, totally unassuming about what he was going to admit to.

eddie clambers off of your body, offering his hand out and praying to whichever god would listen to make sure you wouldn’t run.

you don’t, of course you don’t. taking his hand as you climb up off of the floor, shoulders slumped over as you allow him to move you down the hallway, a gentle hand resting on your waist as you go.

“five minutes baby.. i’ll be back,” he reassures for the hundredth time, “promise me you’ll stay here this time?”

you nod, grabbing his hand just to feel his skin on yours, “i love you,” so sickly sweet he almost forgets what he had to do. but he had to do this for you, or he’d never hear that again.

“i love you too,” with full sincerity, letting the door shut between you as he continues his mission, sprinting back to the living room to get tommy in his clothes and shake any hints of evidence off of himself.

tommy’s heavier than he once anticipated, his lifeless body proving hard to contort into different clothes.

but he does it, dropping the knife on the couch next to his body, giving steve one last sympathetic glance before barrelling down the hallway to the bathroom, pummelling his fist against the door.

he hopes you’ll understand, you had to. everything he did, he did it with you in mind.

his fist pummels against the wood, relief washing over his body when he hears the tiny click that lets him inside and confirms that you didn’t hate him. you trusted him, completely, just as he thought.

eddie’s quick to lock it again, even while knowing the killer was inside of the room with you, the other strewn dead across the floor in a pool of his own blood.

before he can even breath long enough to curate his explanation, the echoing sound of shouting and footsteps fill the house, the cops forcing their way inside and discovering the scene.

the bathroom door splinters, eddie’s arms shielding you from the crossfire of wood. it’s the police, flashlights pointing right at your horrified faces, sharing concerned glances between one another.

“we’ve got two confirmed alive,” one of them squawks into his radio, a fuzzy crackle coming back.

“eddie? eddie munson? we’d like to speak to you about your friend, steve harrington.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson one shot #ghostface!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #chelseeebespookyweek #Spotify

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hollowed-theory-hall · 20 days ago

Note

your post on harry’s handwriting was an eye-opener for me! ik his writing resembled his mother some and is decent overall, but i’ve never seen pics of it!

idk where the horde of fanfic writers came up with the weird notion that harry has bad/chicken scratch handwriting, which triggers me every. time. they make out his handwriting to be messy, his eating habits sloppy, his speech behaviour bumbling, his appearance unkempt, and that he’s rather messy as a person. which boggles the mind, because he’s used to cleaning up after the dursleys and probably enjoys an orderly space, if not super spic and span??? is it only certain fandoms, cuz they make the other character(s) all elegance personified and well-mannered? like, harry already is a well-mannered boy, otherwise petunia would’ve been tutting, clucking, and dying of shame even more before the nieghbours lmaoo. idk whether to cry or laugh, and sometimes it’s such a turn-off that i choose to rage quit fics.

please, if you have the time, i would love a thorough breakdown/meta on how harry actually comes across as a person!

Okay, I have so much to say about this. And omg, Harry's chicken scratch handwriting is one of my pet peeves in fics (here's the handwriting post, btw). Harry's characterization when done wrong in general, tbh is a huge turn-off for me. Becouse I love Harry, he's my boy.

So, what we're gonna look at is how other characters in the books perceive Harry, how he comes across in universe to people who can't read his mind (like we can, as the readers).

I'll start with a general note about how most characters in the books don't really know Harry. This is mostly because Harry, contrary to fanon interpretations, is a very private person and rarely talks about himself/his feelings/his thoughts out loud. This is a habit I believe was ingrained into him by the Dursleys.

Like, I mentioned in the past Harry doesn't talk as much as other characters. Scenes of the trio usually consist of mostly Ron and Hermione talking, for example. This is not becouse he doesn't have thoughts (he's quite judgmental inside his head, and we know he has a lot to say), but becouse he's used to not voicing a lot of them thanks to the Dursleys.

This essay turned out pretty long, but here we go:

How do others see Harry?

Harry comes off as confident. Harry is a defiant and courageous person, and this often comes off as confidence to other people. It's why Snape thinks Harry is arrogant and why most students are always sure Harry meant to do what he did. They think he has shit together because he comes off like he does:

Harry stayed silent. Snape was trying to provoke him into telling the truth. He wasn’t going to do it. Snape had no proof — yet. “How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter,” Snape said suddenly, his eyes glinting. “He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of us too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers . . . The resemblance between you is uncanny.” “My dad didn’t strut,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “And neither do I.”

(PoA, Ch14)

Snape sees Harry as arrogant, when in fact Harry is just defiant and intelligent.

“But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny, half laughing. “Well ... I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

(HBP, Ch30)

Ginny (and other characters) believe he likes to save the wizarding world. That he is this confident hero and savior. I mean, they believe her lie about the tattoo, which says a lot:

and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it’s true you’ve got a hippogriff tattooed across your chest.” Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them. “What did you tell her?” “I told her it’s a Hungarian Horntail,” said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. “Much more macho.”

(HBP, Ch25)

Harry doesn't see himself as leader material, but it's clear everyone else does:

“I think we ought to elect a leader,” said Hermione. “Harry’s leader,” said Cho at once, looking at Hermione as though she were mad, and Harry’s stomach did yet another back flip. “Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly,” said Hermione, unperturbed. “It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?” Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly. “Er — right, thanks,” said Harry, who could feel his face burning.

(OotP, Ch18)

Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece and yelled. “I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”

(DH, Ch28)

“Look who it is! Didn’t I tell you?” As Harry emerged into the room beyond the passage, there were several screams and yells: “HARRY!” “It’s Potter, it’s POTTER!” “Ron!” “Hermione!” [...] “Are you all right, Harry?” Neville was saying. “Want to sit down? I expect you’re tired, aren’t—?” “No,” said Harry. He looked at Ron and Hermione, trying to tell them without words that Voldemort has just discovered the loss of one of the other Horcruxes. Time was running out fast: If Voldemort chose to visit Hogwarts next, they would miss their chance. “We need to get going,” he said, and their expression told him that they understood. “What are we going to do, then, Harry?” asked Seamus. “What’s the plan?” “Plan?” repeated Harry. He was exercising all his willpower to prevent himself succumbing again to Voldemort’s rage: His scar was still burning. “Well, there’s something we—Ron, Hermione, and I—need to do, and then we’ll get out of here.” Nobody was laughing or whooping anymore. Neville looked confused.

(DH, Ch29)

Everyone expected Harry in DH to have a plan of attack the moment he arrived because that's how he acts. Even in the above scene, he's in terrible pain from his scar, but the others don't see it. What they see is a Harry who looks exhausted but says no to rest because there's work to be done and they expect this of him. They see someone fearless and capable with a plan who could lead them, but this isn't what we see because we're inside his head.

How Harry doesn't speak much and acts overall quite distant, as in, he actively avoids the girls who fancy him:

Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls. “Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him. “Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him

(HBP, Ch7)

And he only has two close friends and barley knows the other students in his year. Most students only know Harry Potter from the stories, rumors, and Dumbledore's end-of-the-year speeches about his heroism. They have no clue who the real Harry is — so they expect the hero they do hear about.

He stands his ground a lot (again, defiance):

Harry turned to McLaggen to tell him that, most unfortunately, Ron had beaten him, only to find McLaggen’s red face inches from his own. He stepped back hastily. “His sister didn’t really try,” said McLaggen menacingly. There was a vein pulsing in his temple like the one Harry had often admired in Uncle Vernon’s. “She gave him an easy save.” “Rubbish,” said Harry coldly. “That was the one he nearly missed.”

(HBP, Ch11)

And more often than not, he does so coldly and calmly. A lot of his more fiery anger is a sign of trauma with Harry, his baseline anger reaction is cold.

All of this adds to him appearing to others as controlled, confident, and like he has everything together and could never have any issues. He comes off as this bigger than life person to most people. Snape isn't the only one who reads Harry's behavior as confident. But it's actually far from the truth.

We, as the readers, see how depressed Harry is. How lowly he thinks of himself and how much he doesn't think of himself as anything special when he very clearly is. But the fact he doesn't say any of it and has mastered the skill of acting cold and like everything is fine when he literally wants to die at the age of 5, no one knows. Even Ron and Hermione didn't truly realize the full extent of Harry's low self-worth until 5th year.

The other students are shocked to see Harry as angry as he is in book 5 because he's often way more controlled and well-mannered than that. They're used to seeing him cold and quiet, not firey. Most of his fire stays inside his head unless he's really angry or emotional in general (or traumatized):

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated. “Harry, no!” Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach. “So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?” Harry asked, his voice shaking. There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what had happened on the night that Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge

(OotP, Ch12)

The shock of the other students, I believe, is because of what he's saying, yes, but it's also because Harry is behaving very unlike him here. He usually doesn't shout at teachers or anyone, really. He rarely speaks in classes actually.

And regarding his confidence, everyone, Ron and Hermione included, was sure Harry is super skilled and that that's how he evaded Voldemort:

“You don’t know what it’s like! You — neither of you — you’ve never had to face him, have you? You think it’s just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you’re in class or something? The whole time you know there’s nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you’re about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they’ve never taught us that in their classes, what it’s like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I’m a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don’t get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn’t needed me —” “We weren’t saying anything like that, mate,” said Ron, looking aghast. “We weren’t having a go at Diggory, we didn’t — you’ve got the wrong end of the —” He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken.

(OotP, Ch15)

They didn't for a second think he wasn't confident in his own abilities because Harry acts in a way that comes off as confident and capable. It's why everyone so easily accepts him as a leader under various circumstances. He acts level-headed while he's terrified, so everyone thinks he knows what he's doing except Harry (and the reader). Ron and Hermione had zero doubts Harry's skill was a big part of why he survived book 4, it's only Harry who doesn't think that.

The fact Snape bothered to extract his own memories during his Occlumancy lessons goes to show how he thinks Harry is talented, contrary to his words. He feared Harry would reverse the connection and see into his mind, otherwise he wouldn't have taken these precautions.

Think of Voldemort’s resurrection even. Inside his mind, we know Harry's terrified. We know he has no idea what he's doing.

But imagine being a Death Eater in the crowd and you see this 14-year-old kid stand up after being Crucio-ed by their lord, and he stands up, resists the imperius, and shouts at your lord like he thinks of himself as equal to him — or, perhaps, better than him:

“I asked you whether you want me to do that again,” said Voldemort softly. “Answer me! Imperio!” [...] I WON’T!” And these words burst from Harry’s mouth; they echoed through the graveyard, and the dream state was lifted as suddenly as though cold water had been thrown over him — back rushed the aches that the Cruciatus Curse had left all over his body — back rushed the realization of where he was, and what he was facing. . . . “You won’t?” said Voldemort quietly, and the Death Eaters were not laughing now.

(GoF, Ch34)

That's pretty badass. Harry comes off like a confidant badass. And he gets more badass and confident as he matures (even if he isn't actually as confident as he appears).

Even in the DoM, Lucius Malfoy, who was in the graveyard, takes Harry seriously:

“Don’t do anything,” he [Harry] muttered. “Not yet —” The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter. “You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!” “Oh, you don’t know Potter as I do, Bellatrix,” said Malfoy softly. “He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter.”

(OotP, Ch35)

Bellatrix makes fun of how Harry gives the other kids orders as if they're going to fight, but Lucius knows better, he knows Harry is going to fight, and I think, he's scared of what would happen when he does. Even Bellatrix quickly starts taking Harry more seriously:

“Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter,” she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. “Very well, then —”

(OotP, Ch35)

And she changes her tone completely after he casts a Crucio at her:

“Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?” she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now.

(OotP, Ch36)

His aura is one of competence and confidence even when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing. Especially when he's frightened and has no idea what he's doing.

And for the most part, he doesn't come off nearly as judgmental as he actually is, because he doesn't say a lot of what he thinks. We only see him start to actually speak his mind and be more sassy out loud around 5th and 6th year. And even then, his highly judgmental physical descriptions stay part of his narration, they aren't spoken:

“That’s the bell,” said Harry listlessly, because Ron and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. They did not stop arguing all the way down to Snape’s dungeon, which gave Harry plenty of time to reflect that between Neville and Ron he would be lucky ever to have two minutes’ conversation with Cho that he could look back on without wanting to leave the country.

(OotP, Ch12)

Ron and Hermione banter while Harry feels done with them, but he doesn't really say anything or complain. He keeps a lot of his thoughts inside his head.

If we look at how Ron, Hermione, and Sirius see Harry, they're the closest to who Harry actually is as these three know Harry best. (They're also more objective than Harry who looks down on himself)

After the book 5 conversation I mentioned above, Ron and Hermione are more aware of Harry's insecurities, but they find them silly. They see Harry as incredibly capable and skilled:

“Did he?” said Harry. Behind him he felt rather than heard Hermione passing his message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters.

(OotP, Ch35)

“What are we going to do with them?” Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, “Kill them? They’d kill us. They had a good go just now.” Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head. “We just need to wipe their memories,” said Harry.

(DH, Ch9)

When danger comes, everyone's instantly following Harry's lead. Harry's the planner when the situation is dangerous, he calls the shots, not Hermione. Hermione and Ron look to Harry for a plan when things get tough, and Harry always figures something out. Now, we see Harry thinking he has no idea what to do:

He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking. He could feel one of the other’s quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.

(OotP, Ch35)

But Ron and Hermione don't. No one does. They just see Harry coming up with a plan to save them. Every time. They don't see him wracking his brain for a way to keep everyone alive.

Hermione never considers Harry stupid, not even in first year:

“I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!”

(PS, Ch16)

And Ron clearly doesn't expect stupid behavior from Harry. He's surprised and shocked when Harry does something he considers stupid:

“What the hell,” panted Ron, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backward and forward on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, “didn’t you take this thing off before you dived?”

(DH, 19)

Both Ron and Hermione trust Harry's opinion and they trust him to know what to do when shit hits the fan. When things are dangerous, both Ron and Hermione (and everyone else) turn to Harry to know what to do becouse that's the aura he has:

“I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.” Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were full of tears. “Nearly always right,” she repeated.

(DH, Ch22)

Hermione agrees with Lupin's assessment here. Dumbledore did too, he's the one who told Kingsley and Remus to trust Harry's instincts. Harry doesn't give the impression he's messy and bumbling, quite the opposite. Yes, Harry and Hermione have their doubts, they don't agree with Harry on everything, especially when he has no evidence for his claim except his intuition. But, it's telling Harry can make claims based on gut feeling and Ron and Hermione ask him why he thinks that instead of just instantly rejecting the claims.

Like I mentioned above, he looks like he has his shit together even when he really doesn't. He's an expert in keeping a mask on and bottling up his feelings.

Sirius, also sees Harry as mature and capable for his age. It's why he's so insistent on telling him things while Molly wants to cuddle Harry:

“I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still—” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently.

(OotP, Ch5)

Between them, Sirius sees Harry more accurately. Harry is incredibly mature and capable and wants to be in the know. He'd be better off in the know. Sirius understands Harry's curiosity which Molly seems unaware of. Lupin also remarks on how Harry is going to find out things anyway, he's aware of how curious and determined Harry is. Sirius considers Harry capable even during PoA and GoF:

I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you.

(GoF, Ch18)

Molly, on the other hand, never really sees Harry's capabilities. Molly only ever sees a polite, intelligent kid. In the early years at the Weasley, Harry barely talks to Molly and Arthur because he doesn't really know how to talk to them. So they talk to him, the other Weasleys talk around him, and he's polite in turn:

“I don’t blame you, dear,” she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really” (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate), “flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —”

(CoS, Ch3)

Harry acts around most adults like this, especially when younger. It's clear he acted this way around his teachers too:

“You see what you expect to see, Severus,” said Dumbledore, without raising his eyes from a copy of Transfiguration Today. “Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likable, and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child.”

(DH, Ch33)

Snape got it a bit different. Because Harry is defiant and sassy — it's how he responds to the Dursleys, and this is how he responds to threats he can't do anything about in general. Sass. It's why we see Harry do this with Umbridge, Snape, and Scrimgeour:

Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice. “Hmm, let’s think . . .” said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, “maybe Lord Voldemort?”

(OotP, Ch12)

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry stiffly. “Yes, sir.” “There’s no need to call me ��sir,’ Professor.”

(HBP, Ch9)

“...You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!” “It’s time you earned it.” said Harry.

(DH, Ch7)

Harry appears confidant and arrogant not only to Snape but to Scrimgeour too (I think other students at Hogwarts see Harry as arrogant too. His demeanor can come off as arrogant if you don't know what he's thinking. It's why they could believe the Daily Prophet, it fit what they got to see). It's because he is rude and sassy when speaking his mind. It's because he acts more confident when he's terrified. It's because he's cold, distant, and uncaring towards most people and actively avoids talking to most.

And even that's mostly when he's older. In 4th year, he responds to Snape by glaring at him silently and wishing he could cast a Crucio at him:

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GoF, Ch18)

Harry is overall really quiet, which does create the impression of him being put together. More than he thinks of himself, for sure. It also adds to why many students feel as comfortable talking about him as they do because he feels distant to them. His quiet makes him feel mysterious, unknown, and far away. Like a symbol rather than a person.

Something I want to note, specifically with Umbridge, is this scene:

Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later.

(OotP, Ch13)

Part of why Harry comes off as such a put-together badass is that he doesn't let others see his pain. He doesn't show he's in pain to others, especially when it's people he doesn't like. He acts though, constantly.

He hates crying in front of others becouse Harry does everything he can to not appear weak:

Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.

(PoA, Ch12)

And it works, people see him as confident, and capable, and heroic. Most people don't see the struggle because Harry keeps bottling it in.

Even with Hermione, he tries not to let her see how upset he actually is. We know in his head, that he is devastated by his wand breaking, that he's mourning it like it was a dead loved one, but this is what he's willing to show Hermione:

“It was an accident,” said Harry mechanically. He felt empty, stunned. “We’ll—we’ll find a way to repair it.” [...] “Well,” he said, in a falsely matter-of-fact voice, “well, I’ll just borrow yours for now, then. While I keep watch.”

(DH, Ch17)

All this means, we, as the readers , see Harry's pain, his struggles, his vulnerability — but the other characters almost never do.

The only character who is consistently aware of Harry's struggles is Sirius who Harry confides his weaknesses to more than any other character:

“Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously. “I’m —” For a second, Harry tried to say “fine” — but he couldn’t do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he’d talked in days

(GoF, Ch19)

Harry is so used to saying his fine and bearing his burdens in silence. It's what he does. It's what he did for years. Most characters think Harry is unshakable because that's how he acts.

Even when Harry tries to lie so Sirius won't worry, Sirius sees through it:

Nice try, Harry. I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts.

(GoF, Ch15)

As for his room and appearance, he is a little messy actually when he has the chance to be in seventh year:

Harry had spent the morning completely emptying his school trunk for the first time since he had packed it six years ago. At the start of the intervening school years, he had merely skimmed off the topmost three quarters of the contents and replaced or updated them, leaving a layer of general debris at the bottom—old quills, desiccated beetle eyes, single socks that no longer fit.

(DH, Ch2)

As in, his trunk is a bit of a mess. But this makes sense, I think. He allows himself to be messy when he doesn't have the Dursleys over his head. It's like a sort of freedom he didn't have before, so he indulges in it. I think the mess in his trunk is also a result of him actually living from it for 6 years, as he couldn't really leave everything at home with the Dursleys, could he? Still, his room and belongings are nowhere near as messy as Ron's.

As for his appearance, the only thing mentioned to be messy is his hair:

His jet-black hair, however, was just as it always had been — stubbornly untidy, whatever he did to it

(PoA, Ch1)

But from other characters (including Hermione) thinking Harry's hot:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.”

(HBP, Ch11)

We can conclude Harry's messy hair comes off as cool and attractive and not like a bird's nest.

We also see from Hermione and others that Harry looks scary. He is 5'11 by book 6 with an intimidating glare and that he looks like he can throw a punch, (and can definitely throw a punch when he wants to). So he has a physical intimidation factor when older:

“Well, it’s like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,” said Hermione impatiently, “and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn’t usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren’t they? The way some people can see them and some can’t! I wish I could.” “Do you?” Harry asked her quietly. She looked horrorstruck. “Oh Harry — I’m sorry — no, of course I don’t — that was a really stupid thing to say —”

(OotP, Ch21)

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy’s stomach — “Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!” He could hear girls’ voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled “IMPEDIMENTA!” and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .

(OotP, Ch19)

To summarise

Harry bottles up a lot of his emotions and tends to be quiet, this creates the often wrong impression he is confident and has his shit together.

He doesn't show pain and weakness to others and doesn't cry or show he's upset to basically anyone (except Sirius). This means basically no one sees his struggles or how depressed and traumatized Harry actually is. It even surprises Ron and Hermione in book 5.

He is defiant and rude to people he doesn't like, especially when scared, the result is that he appears like a very capable and confident badass especially when under pressure.

He can be intimidating with his glare alone and once he's older he is a physical presence. He's not someone who can disappear in a crowd post-book 5.

His rudeness oftentimes stays in his head except when someone really annoys him. This makes him appear defiant, but overall polite because he keeps most of his mean comments to himself.

When younger, he is very polite and quiet, especially toward adults. When he's older, he gets a little sassier (as in, he says some of his internal monologue out loud). But he is a polite, well-mannered kid for the most part.

The character who has a messy room, is a bit of a slob, has chicken scratch handwriting, and is lazy with schoolwork, is Ronald Weasley, who I love dearly, but these descriptions have nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with Ron.

The only unkempt thing about Harry's appearance is likely his Potter hair, which is more messy hot than messy bad (if all the girls' reactions are anything to go by).

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedtheory #harry potter meta #asks #anonymous #harry james potter #my best boy hjp

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hawkinsbnbg · 6 months ago

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Eddie and his bisexual awakening.

Eddie didn't know he also liked men until Steve Harrington landed in his life with that perfect hair, sweet nature, admirable bravery, and divine everything.

It took Eddie being mauled by the bats, almost dying multiple times, and freaking out with Wayne about his not-so-heterosexual thoughts to realize that Steve’s moles and freckles were fucking beautiful.

He knew he had been down bad when he couldn't stop waxing poetries about the guy all day and visiting Family Video whenever he could, which made him the store’s regular much to Robin’s entertainment.

Although she didn't say anything, he was quite sure that she had clocked him as queer by now. He just hoped that she would eventually clue him in about Steve’s interest if he showed enough of his consistency.

“How can I help you?”

Eddie leaned his arm on the counter and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly at Robin’s mirthful look, he could feel his cheeks heat up just by being so obvious about it.

Not to mention today marked his two months of hopeless pining.

“Uhm, is Steve here today?” He asked softly.

Instead of answering him, she turned slightly to call over her shoulder.

“Dingus, your boy is here!”

If Eddie wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now.

“What– I’m not–”

“Which ones?” Steve’s voice called back from the inside.

And okay, Eddie knew it was stupid to get jealous over something so random because one, he was only Steve’s friend, and two, he had no claim over Steve except the massive crush he had on the guy.

But he was. Furious and bristled about the fact that he wasn’t the only person besides Robin who monopolized Steve’s free time during boring shifts.

“Who else has visited him lately?” Eddie planted his hands on the counter and narrowed his eyes, not caring that he wasn’t being subtle at all.

“Let’s see,” she tapped her chin contemplatively and started counting by her fingers, “you, obviously. Then Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.”

That’s it? Eddie blinked owlishly at her, waiting for the punch line. But what came next was—

“Leave the poor guy alone, Robs.”

Steve finally emerged from the back room and hip-checked Robin as he walked over to her side.

“He’s just so easy,” Robin huffed out a laugh.

“Stop spreading lies about me, Buckley,” Eddie gave her a wounded glare that held no real heat while also trying and failing to not stare at Steve standing directly across from him.

“Yeah, stop spreading lies, Birdie,” Steve poked at her bicep with a teasing smile.

And then that smile turned warm, fond, when it was directed at Eddie.

“Sorry about her,” Steve offered lightly, doe eyes peering up at him from under the lashes.

Eddie felt weak in the knees and secretly thanked whatever power above that had granted him a few inches on this pretty boy.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Eddie also smiled and felt his heart thump loudly in his chest as he decided to go with it. “She’s, uh, not wrong about it.”

“Are you admitting that you’re easy now, Munson?” Steve raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he reached for Eddie’s hand and started playing with the rings on it as if it had been one of his habits all along.

Which was true and never failed to make Eddie tongue-tied.

“Just for you,” he blurted out. “I’m only easy just for you.”

It would sound ridiculous if not for the way Steve’s cheeks tinted pink despite his effort at trying to stay nonchalant.

“Just for me, huh?”

Strangely, seeing the younger boy also being affected by the tension between them helped Eddie regain some confidence.

He turned his hand so he could grab Steve’s own and brought it to his lips, pressing soft kisses on the scarred knuckles.

“Yeah, I’m all yours,” he met Steve’s gaze with a dopey smile, “Sweetheart.”

A small part of him noticed that Robin had gone to the back room to give them some semblance of privacy. But a larger part of him had been lost in the beaming smile on Steve’s pretty face.

They stared at each other for a while until Steve finally broke the silence.

“Dinner at mine?”

“I’ll bring the beer and,” Eddie picked up the forgotten VHS case of ‘Risky Business’ and waved it lightly, “something to watch.”

That earned him a chuckle in return.

“It's a date?” Steve tilted his head, wanting to confirm again.

“It’s a date,” Eddie grinned and kissed the back of Steve’s hand.

Later that night, Eddie had turned up with a bouquet of flowers and was rewarded with a heated kiss that almost distracted both of them from Steve’s delicious lasagna.

Once they were done with the dishes and mitigated to the couch, he got a lapful of Steve, sweet and pretty and very eager to give him the best time of his life.

In the end, Eddie finally had a taste of that peachy ass and relived many of his wet dreams by turning Steve speechless and delirious with pleasure.

And if he also declared his love over and over again, then he didn't hear Steve complaining.

Maybe, it was because Steve had been busy doing the same.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #disaster bisexual eddie munson #confident bisexual steve harrington #steve is eddie's bi awakening #simp eddie munson #sionewrites

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doomedmoth · 7 months ago

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Three’s a crowd

Pairing : Poly and bisexual fem!reader | reader x alexandra saint mleux x charles lerclerc

Warnings : use of y/n, polyamory, fluff, very light angst, request, not much more tbh

Synopsis : Request : Could you write a poly fic about Charles, Alexandra and Y/N ? Everyone is celebrating Charles’ brand LEC but since Charles and Alex are the public couple (for Ferrari PR etc), Y/N can’t do anything. She’s starting to feel left out because of it since they’re going out and celebrating without her, they keep leaving her out and forgetting important dates (her birthday or smthg). Happy ending please !

Moth’s prophecy💡: Thank you to the anonymous cryptid for the request, I tweaked it a bit but still kept the main plot, and I hope you and the other poly enjoyers will like it ! Thanks again for the support and great ideas !

“Okay one… two… three… and posted !” You threw yourself in Charles’ arms as he clicked on the button and threw his phone away immediately, catching both you and Alex in a cuddle.

“You did it !” Alexandra pinched at his cheeks and you ruffled his hair, hands trembling with excitement.

Finally his ice-cream brand, Lec, was out, the main announcement posted on Instagram. The end of countless sleepless nights and never ending zoom calls, meetings at the worst time possible, and secrets to keep. Of course, now the promotion would be another handful, but at least the three of you would deal with it together. And you had always been pretty good at supporting your lovers.

You got into a more comfortable position on Charles’ lap, head resting against his, as Alexandra had gotten up and started her, as she called it, “happy dance”, which consisted mostly in jumping in circles screaming until she got dizzy. As you snorted, Alexandra very clearly loosing balance, Charles took your hand in his, softly rubbing it with his fingers.

“Thank you… I know it hasn’t been easy to deal with this on top of the races and everything… You’ve been amazing. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You could not help a smirk from coming up your lips, and thought this was the time to charge again.

“I know how you can repay me…” You straddled him, and as he did his best to appear confident and in charge, his blush betrayed his shyness. Alex had stopped spinning, seemingly much more interested in what was taking place on the couch. “Maybe you could…” You got closer to him, and peppered his neck with kisses until you got to his ear, in which you whispered as seductively as you could. “Maybe you could get me a dog ?”

He immediately rolled his eyes and playfully pushed you away as you laughed at his bright red cheeks. You had dreamt of having your own dog for so long, specifically a longhaired dachshund, and both Alex and Charles had said no multiple times. Charles’ arguments were mainly that he was away too often to properly care for it, and your girlfriend, who called the breed “hairy sausages”, argued she would have to deal with all the responsibilities of it because both yours and Charles’ works took a lot of time. And though she actually found dogs very cute, she did not have an interest big enough for them to manage her schedule around one.

You had pleaded to Lewis to use Roscoe to convince them, managed to go partly remote with your job, and flooded their messages with videos of dogs almost daily. At this point, you were seriously considering getting one in secret just to see how long it would take for them to realize, and then argue it is too late to give it back.

“Sure.” What ? You sat straight up on Charles as he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You couldn’t have heard well. You turned to Alex, who shrugged.

“I can’t deal with seeing you cry over reels anymore, and Mimi’s pretty cute.” She gave you a warm smile. Mimi was your friend’s dog, the one who got you into dachshund in the first place.

“You’re not serious, are you ? You’re just in a good mood. You’re joking.” Charles actually laughed, and you thought your heart wouldn’t be able to handle a prank.

“Promis juré ma princesse. Why not, you want one, you can take care of it, who am I to deny you ? Let’s get you a dog.”

No matter how well isolated was your apartment, you thought you would be lucky if no neighbors came to complain tomorrow. There was a lot to celebrate for one night.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really need you to give Leo back, we’re going to take pictures…” Searching desperately for support in Alex’s eyes, you felt sick when you saw her staring at the ground. You were so shaken you let the event coordinator take the puppy from your arms and give him to Alexandra, who sheepishly turned her back to you and walked towards the press wall.

Charles himself was nowhere and everywhere at once, it was no use trying to get him to advocate for you. Too stressed by the beginning of the racing season combined with the launching events for Lec, he had mindlessly agreed to most of his agent’s suggestions, including playing what the Ferrari PR team had called “happy family”. Following the announcement of Carlos’ replacement, they needed good news to balance, and thought emphasizing Charles’ couple and furry kid would pull at a few heartstrings. But in their good Italian traditional beliefs, there was no place for a third, and since you had always been more busy, and therefore more discreet, than Alexandra, the cut had been made. They were to be the hit couple for a while, in a vain but admittedly successful attempt at calming the fans.

You had had little to no say, Charles having always been your voice in those kinds of businesses, and Alexandra being media trained to perfection. You thought back on your promises, on your dedication to be supportive of them, and decided the best thing to do would be to go get some air. It wasn’t as if you would be missed anyway.

As you stepped on one of the secluded balconies, the cold breeze of the night came to slap your face, and without anyone’s arms or jacket to comfort you, you suddenly felt very lonely. The evening had dragged on enough, you just wanted to go home. Debating between taking a cab or waiting for your lovers, you took out your phone, only to be flooded by notifications from your socials. You barely used them, so had no idea why they would be so active all of a sudden.

Both Instagram and Twitter greeted you with the same pictures taken either by fans or paparazzis. You shopping with Carlos’s girlfriend, Leo trotting happily by your side, as well as another few at a restaurant with friends, where Leo was sleeping on your lap while Charles and Alex were somewhere in the background, probably discussing going dancing after. The usual. But this time, all the comments seemed to agree on one thing. The dog wasn’t yours.

“Did they lend her the dog for the day ?”. “Leo’s godmother.” “Is she gonna be the babysitter while they’re gone ?” “Me when my friends get a baby”.

You three had always been private, but not secret. People made their own opinions anyway, and you did not care much about polishing a public persona. You did not use socials, Alex had private accounts, and Charles’ were managed by his PR team. In the end, even though you had dated Alexandra since high school, and Charles for a bit more than a year, the lack of official pictures or announcement, coupled with Ferrari’s new strategy, only served as validation to those who affirmed the real couple were Alexandra and Charles.

You felt sick, cold, and particularly lonely. Cab it would be.

“Babe what are you doing outside like that, you’ll get a cold !” You felt his jacket fall on your shoulders before you even heard him walk up to you. Ears buzzing, eyes watering, you weren’t sure you were able to face him.

“I’m gonna go home. I’ll leave you with your girlfriend and your dog if you don’t mind.” When you turned to him, you saw right behind one of the girls in charge of the party holding Leo, and your blood started boiling again. Charles was looking at you all confused, and you felt an itch to slap him.

“What ? What are you on about ? How ‘bout you come back inside, I think Leo misses you.” He chuckled, and you thought a full punch would probably be better than a slap.

“I don’t think your dog misses me.” The words felt like poison in your mouth, but you wanted him to get it. To understand how ridiculous this situation was getting. And why wouldn’t the girl put him down, he was clearly uncomfortable in her arms ? Why was no one taking it seriously ?

“Leo’s your dog, Y/N, I don’t get it…”

“Then give him back to me !” You screamed and the puppy yapped back, before jumping from the assistant’s arms, who shrieked and struggled to get him back. Too late, he had found your arms before she managed to pull the leash. “You should probably talk with your team, Charles.” He frowned at the use of his name, which almost always meant you were pissed. “Goodnight.”

As they finished filling their suitcases, you thought back on this evening, and that you probably should have shut your mouth. Following Lec’s launching party, what you hoped would be a wake up call for your lovers turned into something even worse. Charles was indeed called in for a talk with the PR team. And then Alex too. Your turn never came, and the more the days passed, the more it appeared your relationship was being taken over by management and marketing teams.

The following weeks had been a blur of unspoken tensions and meaningless routines. Breakfast alone, walking Leo only in the areas pre-approved to avoid pictures, going to work without him and coming home to new communication materials published with his face on it, work calls for your boyfriend stretching into the night, and your girlfriend going out so often it seemed her side of the bed was getting colder with each passing day. They both seemed to have undergone a sad transformation, their fiery and protective spirits dampened by forced compromises. Something told you they had been pushed to agree to the new directive, and yet you couldn’t help but stay mad at them. You understood Charles. The pressure he was under, the expectations of the whole team, the weight of his responsibilities. But Alexandra, you had known for too long. She had never been one to bow down and blindly agree to unfair decisions. She had loved you, through good and bad. She had promised you, together forever. And now she kept her hands by her side on the street and you wondered when her clothes had stopped smelling like you.

They kissed you goodbye, promised you mountains of gifts and a magnificent restaurant when they returned, but the door had not even closed when you fell crying to your knees. You had moved to the couch and slept there, your puppy watching over you, when your mother knocked on the door the following morning.

“Happy birthday darling !” She opened her arms and you ran in them, grabbing at your siblings behind her to get them in the hug too.

You had hoped to be out of tears by now, having spent the night reading articles speculating on why you were living with Formula 1 hottest couple -were you a distant relative ? A friend of Alex in need of a place to crash ?-, but the warm embrace of family members you hadn’t seen for months was enough to bring you back to the edge.

“Where are my favorite in-laws ?” She was beaming as she settled her belongings on the kitchen counter. “Oh that’s my baby grandson, come here baby !” She took Leo in her arms and you thought you had more time to breathe, but your younger brother tugged at your sleeve.

“Can Charlie take me on the boat ? I learned how to do a backflip at school and he can film me do it from the boat and then the others are gonna be so jealous and” You put your hand on his head and ruffled his hair softly.

“I’m sorry… Charles isn’t there. Alex too.” Your mother furrowed her brows and gave you a puzzled look. “Race weekend, and they were expected at an event they couldn’t cancel.” Your voice, barely above a whisper, was already shaking. You felt your tears ready to spill over, and gritted your teeth. “Last minute decision.”

Your brother only groaned and ran to the balcony to look at the port, already over it, but your mother came to hold your hand, and you exchanged a look of “we’ll talk about it later”.

Unfortunately, by the time you all came back from your evening out, and the kids were in bed, your mother was faced with the situation without leaving you any time to explain.

“Y/N, dear, come here please…” You sat next to her with two glasses of wine, and looked over her shoulder to her phone, where she had some celebrities gossip website open. “Is that the event they couldn’t cancel for your birthday ?” Her tone was cold, and you took at better look at the pictures.

A sunset movie-worthy, one of those that always brought tears to your eyes. A small table with candles and flowers on the beach, cocktails so colorful you could almost taste them from afar. Holding hands, looking at each other like the world had stopped, your lovers were apparently having the time of their life in a romantic restaurant, on your birthday evening. You took out your own phone. No messages.

The panic attack struck you without warning. Your heart had clenched all at once, and despite your mother’s attempt at laying you on your back, your muscles kept you rolled in a ball. You felt as if every breath was tearing apart your lungs, and could feel your heartbeat from your ears to the tip of your fingers. You could vaguely hear her talking to you, but it was as if a wall was standing between you, yet her touch felt very close, too close, as if her usually soft fingers were now burning your arms. Was it the end ? Was it how your great love story ended, alone on a Saturday night, crying so much you were drooling on the couch ? Your body was aching like never before, were you about to pass out ? To simply die ?

In the end you only managed to fall asleep after your mom calmed you down. You thought before closing your eyes that even your pain was disappointing.

You were helping your siblings pack up their bags when they came home, arms filled with packages. The little ones jumped to them, glad to have at least been able to say hello before leaving, but your mother stayed by your side, not even greeting them. She thanked them coldly for the gifts, and pushing the children towards the door, gave you a sympathetic look. She said she would always be there for you. She said you could come home if needed. But when Leo jumped on the couch and laid next to you, you knew no matter how painful it was, your home was here and there. You just needed time. You would figure it out, together. But not tonight. Tonight you just wanted out.

“Happy belated birthday, princesse.” Charles said tentatively, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he gestured to the mountain of gifts piled on the table. Alex sat by your side, but you got up before she could hold your hand.

“I don’t want your gifts. I want an apology. Think well about what you’ve done.” You kissed your puppy’s head and left the apartment immediately.

Almost running in the hallways and stairs, you got to his door panting. You knew he was back, they always made the journey together. So when he opened the door, clearly exhausted and surprised to see you, you broke down once again.

“I’m sorry Max… can I come in ?” He immediately closed the door behind you and called for his girlfriend, while his step daughter Penelope came to hug your legs. You collapsed on their sofa, shoulders shaking with silent sobs, unable to find the words to explain the depth of your pain. Kelly and Penelope tried to soothe you with soft voices and hugs, but Max only managed to pace the room, his jaw clenched in anger.

“What the hell happened ?” He had always been so sweet to you, so welcoming in this unfamiliar world. You felt bad for seeking comfort in his home after he had just came back. But the gates were opened, and while you cried, you still managed to make out a few words, enough for the couple to piece out the situation.

Penelope stayed close to you, hugging you with all the warmth a child could muster, while Kelly had been forced to stand in front of the door to prevent your friend from committing murder. They were now arguing silently, and you felt your eyes get heavier by the minute, strangely lulled to sleep by their hushed whispers. You had finally put words on what was happening, and the little girl’s cuddles had managed to calm you down to the point of dozing off.

“I think you should take her home.” Kelly murmured, still worried.

Max nodded in agreement, and he carefully scooped you in his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carried you back to your apartment. Charles was standing in the doorway, Alex pacing behind him, and both let him pass, faces etched with concern.

“You two stay right there.” Max’s voice was sharp, commanding not to argue. He laid you down in your bed, tucking the covers around you and stroking your hair until sleep finally claimed you. When he tried to leave the apartment, your two lovers were still standing by the door, begging to be heard.

“Max, please, what’s going on…” Alexandra tried to get close but he immediately took a step back, and pointed his finger at her.

“You had your chance to make things right by staying this weekend. You blew it up. Take your responsibilities.” He then turned to Charles, and almost spat to his face. “And you… I thought family was supposed to always come first. Maybe I was wrong.” His face was distorted with anger, and his knuckles white on the door handle. “You two have to man up for once in your fucking life. Either you tell Ferrari, and everyone who’s putting their noise in your business, to fuck off, or you loose her.”

With that, he slammed the door, leaving Charles and Alexandra with the consequences of their actions. They knew they had been fooled. Manipulated. Two nights ago, when the pictures of them had been taken, they were having one of the worst conversation possible. One they wanted to share with you as soon as possible, and in person, and not on your birthday. They were now wondering how they could do so without sounding like liars.

Would you trust them ? Believe Charles, when he would tell you the PR team had said you weren’t cut for fame, that the spotlights were obviously making you stressed, that you would be happier away from it all ? Believe Alex, when she would admit that they had threatened her with your boyfriend’s career, as well as your own, reminding her that she had never needed to work, and that if she loved the both of you, she should let professionals handle the situation ? Believe them, when they would say that’s what they talked about at the restaurant, and that their look of love was captured when they thought of you home, and wished you were with them ?

They weren’t sure. The thought that you could decide to end it all, and you would be smart to do so, frightened them. When they finally went to bed, hands shaking and eyes wet, each one cuddling by your side, hoping this night would not be the last, you did not even wake up.

“Still not forgiven ?” Max pushed Charles’ shoulder softly, half teasing him, half genuinely concerned for his friend, even though he hated to admit it. He had moved away from the group of men having a drink in the shared garden of their building, and had been staring at the moon for too long for someone in a good mood.

“I don’t know… She keeps saying everything is fine, but it’s clearly not. Even when we told her of our meetings, she was like… she agreed with them ?” Charles turned to his friend, disbelief written all over his face. “Said they knew what they were talking about, that it was for the best. Keeps walking behind us in the street, encourages us to go out just us two, even refuses to hold Leo when there are fans ! Her own dog, Max !” Charles felt the arm of the taller man lay on his shoulder, and he rested his head in the embrace, sighing.

As he was about to turn for a full hug, he heard Carlos whistle from the table, and Daniel signed at them to get back and away from the hedges.

“Paps.” The Aussie simply said when they got back, pointing a finger at the light of a camera through the bushes. “What a waste of money living here if they still manage to get in.” Max groaned and started to pick up the bottles, inciting everyone to go back inside.

“What a pain those fuckers…” He grumbled, clearly annoyed to not be able to enjoy his evening out with friends without the sound of camera shutters ruining everything. “What fucking interest is there to our lives, go get one of your own or something for god’s sake…” Everyone agreed but still followed him to one of the shared inside spaces, frustration hanging heavy in the air.

As they settled around the pool table, anecdotes about obsessive fans and annoying paparazzis were shared, but Charles’ mind was drifting elsewhere. An idea had begun to take root, a small glimmer of hope for his relationship, to maybe get back his girlfriend, before sadness had taken over most of her. He chugged down the rest of his drink, and called for the attention of his friends.

“What if… what if we used the paps ? What if I said fuck you to Ferrari without dealing with the legal issues ?” A spark appeared in their eyes, and in their last sober decision, they called Alexandra to come down, all agreeing she would be their voice of reason.

Oblivious to it all, you were reading in bed when the gathering happened, and would never know of it.

Only a few days later was the plan put into action. Charles’ idea of using actual paparazzis was turned down by Alex, who reminded the boys of the consequences on their careers if anyone found out who made the call. Despite his drunken arguments of being ready to fuck it all for his girls, soundly supported by his friends, she had found a much safer solution.

When you stepped on the huge balcony, you felt tears come to your eyes, happy ones, for the first time in weeks. Your lovers had crafted a perfect romantic dinner for you, straight out of a movie. The table was laid out for three, candles lit up and rose petals everywhere on the ground. A bottle of expensive champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice, waiting to be popped podium-style, and Leo was waiting by the door with a little bow tie on his collar. You had missed being just the three of you, no waitress, no management, no friends, just a homemade dinner and loving looks.

So when they took you in their arms, wrapping you in love and affection, peppering your skin with kisses and sweet compliments, you simply gave in without a care for anything else. You hugged and kissed until you had no breath left, and let them treat you, for you had deserved it.

Yet the whole time, unbeknownst to you, Daniel and Max had been stationed right under your balcony, hidden from view as they snapped pictures of the intimate scene unfolding. They did their best to capture every shared glance and affectionate touch, every kiss and hug that would make it impossible to deny the love shared between you. They had all warned paparazzis were roaming in the area the night before, which would make the whole thing even more believable for the PR teams. The secret mission was going to perfection, and when you retreated indoors with a seductive wink to your partners, Charles and Alexandra gave a subtle thumbs up to the boys to signal the end of the work for tonight.

As you awoke to the gentle rays of sunlight through the curtains you had not closed well last night, a sense of peace came over you for the first time in a while. Yesterday’s romantic dinner, and night, was still fresh in your mind and body, and you smiled when greeted with your lovers’ sleeping faces when you turned in the bed. Reaching as quietly as possible for your phone, your soft morning suddenly turned to hell as you saw hundreds of notifications and missed calls appear on the lock screen.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you scrolled them all. Missed calls from Ferrari. Messages from long lost friends. And obviously, dozens and dozens of pictures plastered across every gossip account related to Formula 1. It seemed an anonymous account had taken and posted pictures of your very private dinner during the night, and then disappeared, right after the pictures had been reposted everywhere.

With trembling hands, you turned to look at Charles and Alexandra, still sleeping peacefully by your side. Instead of finding solace in their presence, a wave of dread washed over you, the fear of losing everything you held dear threatening to consume you whole. Would this be the breaking point for them ? Would Ferrari ask you to move out ? Would they all lie, deny completely your existence ?

The sound of Leo’s plaintive cries echoed through the room, snapping your partners from their slumber. They came even closer to you, filled with concern as your breathing got more and more erratic, tears streaming down your face. They took turns kissing away your tears and whispering words of comfort until you managed to give them your phone, as well as theirs. You tried regulating your breathing as they scrolled, and sat down, expecting a tough conversation straight after.

Alex simply threw her phone away after not even two minutes of screen time, coming back to lay her head on your chest and faking purring. Charles sighed, and opened the camera of his phone. Had they asked him to make an apology video ? He turned the camera to Leo, and added his hand to where Alex’s fingers were already intertwined with yours. Snapping a pic of the small dog with your three hands next to him, he immediately posted it on his story on Instagram, which he had apparently gotten back the login details for, with the caption “Family 4️⃣❤️”.

“About time it was out officially, right love ?” Charles stroked your cheek lovingly while your girlfriend hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to you. “I was thinking your red dress for the event next week, and we could get me a new suit but” He kept rambling on, his phone buzzing non stop on his side table, head in the crook of your neck. Too stunned to speak, you simply laid back in the bed and let him talk your ear off. It wasn’t over then ?

By the time of the next Lec event, you were sure it was far from over. Alex was holding your hand, and you had gotten matching nails the day before. Charles had insisted you were the only one to wear red tonight, and he kept you as close as physically possible, one hand always on your waist. The little pup struggled to find his place in all this affection, but you made sure to keep him in your arms whenever he needed comfort, and otherwise refused to give the leash to anyone else. When Charles’ agent came to warn you there would be trouble, Alex stepped in front of you with the look of defiance you had always loved, and simply told him “With all due respect, fuck off.” Charles shrugged, saying this wasn’t a Ferrari event anyway, and smiled as he took you two away.

You finally stood tall and proud, at peace and at home. The party was quite private, you were mostly surrounded by friends and well-wishers, and one in particular came to greet you with the biggest smile on his face.

“As pretty as ever querida !” Carlos took you in his arms, and gave a small pet to Leo’s head. He congratulated you, and gesturing to the PR team seemingly having a breakdown in the corner of a room, he chuckled. “The only thing I won’t miss at Ferrari is their shitty strategy.” He winked at you before going back to the buffet, not without a last word “It’s clear the only happy family they should advertise is you three, with how they’re looking at you.”

You turned back to meet their eyes. Charles raised his glass to you, and Alex’s smile was brighter than the neon lights. You felt filled with pride, love, a sense of validation like no other. You thought of your mother, of her warm embrace and comforting words. You hoped she would see the pictures of tonight. You hoped she knew you had a home away from home in them. And so you ran to them, and laughed until your cheeks hurt, and danced until the lights went out, and promised to love until the very last star in the sky burnt out.

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cursedcatvibes · 2 months ago

Text

KILLSHOT!

re4r!fuckboy leon x fuckgirl reader

word count: 5.9k

summary: Leon is only really a fuckboy because of some sort of childhood trauma thing. He doesn’t want to be forgotten, growing up ugly isn’t something he wanted to be remembered by so when he got his glow up he obviously used his looks to his advantage. But what happens when he starts to hear another name other than his own making rounds, everyone is raving about this person and Leon doesn’t like this. Is he jealous of them? Or is he actually jealous he hadn’t gotten to experience it yet?

tags/warnings: Minors DNI! Smut, 18+. Complicated emotions, slight mask kink, using of drugs, drugs mentioned, alcohol slightly mentioned, college ditzy bimbo talking, fingering, cowgirl, praise, characters from other franchises mentioned, halloween party, stalking-ish.. not proof read

A/N: hello! i have not been active in a few months oh my gosh.. literally sickening but life is literally sickening in itself? so.. but anyways, i had this idea strike me and it’s taken so long for me to punch it out because i kept changing the plot and rewriting and deleting shit because i didn’t like it. sue me! but yeah i forced myself to sit and write all day, so if some of the plot is not consistent i apologize! i actually got slight inspiration from pawgleon.. like the way the characters speak. i think she portrays bimbo and ditzy talk very well! (this is me partaking in kinktober)

Songs! ^^

Killshot (Slowed + Reverb) - Magdalena Bay

Rehab - Brent Faiyaz

Yummy - Ayesha Erotica

Like a Dream - Thomas LaRosa

Poison- Brent Faiyaz

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Leon’s always made a name for himself ever since Junior year in highschool. He had been considered ugly up until that point, had a bunch of acne (just like a normal growing teenager would), wore glasses, and his voice was still a little high-pitched because his balls had yet to drop. So what? Most boys are late bloomers! Definitely nothing to be insecure about.

He got picked on a lot and all the girls he liked never liked him back, always made fun of him whenever they could and called him a weird freak. But that all changed one summer when he got back to school for the new year.

He had gained a skincare routine, traded his glasses for contact lenses, and even started working out. It made him feel good about himself and it gave him the confidence to say fuck you to everyone else.

When he strolled into school however, it proved to be different almost immediately.

Here he was thinking he would have to defend himself again this year but people actually seemed to like him, girls he had never spoken to in his life started coming up to him. All pretty and perky too.

Now all of the sudden everyone wanted to fuck him and he was overjoyed. He quickly lost his virginity not even a month into starting the new school year, it took him a long while to perfect his craft but soon he got pretty good at knowing a woman’s body, men too.

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A few years later and now he’s in college with a reputation of being a fuckboy. It wasn’t a bad thing for him, considering the fact that he was able to get out the pent up stress college applied onto him.

Leon always got to pick his fruit of the night daily, sometimes even more than once a day. He didn’t have to worry about girls trying to get into relationships with him because of his reputation, one, and two, he was always up front about how he didn’t want to date anyone.

He was 1000% sure that if someone could be labeled as best fuck/hookup he would qualify for first every single time.

Well that’s what he originally thought until he started hearing another name going around, almost as often as his own. He was curious about who this person was, he wondered if they were as good as him for this many people to be buzzing about them.

It only took him a couple of minutes asking around before he found out the full name of the person and what class they were in. Surprisingly they were in the morning class of the same lesson that Leon took except his was more in the afternoon.

No wonder they haven’t crossed paths. No worries, he’s sure that a person like him must be cool enough to become friends with.

Oh how wrong he was.

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You had a decent up bringing growing up, didn’t struggle academically and you weren’t bad looking but you weren’t good looking either. Just plain. No one paid much mind to you in middle school.

It was completely fine with you, no drama, no names to remember, and no one to pick on you. You could honestly say you enjoyed it.

No one bothered you up until you hit puberty, you noticed almost immediately that people started treating you differently. It was strange at first, getting used to everyone trying to butter you up for one thing only.

You didn’t see much of an issue because you didn’t care, you didn’t see virginity as a big deal either. Now you weren’t a hoe or passed around, you just had sexual relations with whomever.

You were pretty ecstatic about going to college you had aspirations and dreams, that dream job wasn’t going to be easy. You needed to have a proper education and a little experience in that field before you even tried.

It was also well known in college that you get to sleep around with whoever you want and receive no consequences.

But never raw, you definitely weren’t trying to get pregnant before your life properly started. You applauded the women who did have babies this early in life and still make something of themselves but you could barely take care of yourself on a daily let alone a whole other little human.

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You sat there in the middle row of the lecture, bored out of your mind. You stared at the chalkboard and occasionally glanced down at your notebook to doodle or something to make it appear you were paying attention. It was just an extra class you were forced to do for extra credits before the end of the semester.

Leon on the other hand was sat in the back row of that same class, he somehow managed to weasel his way into the same extracurricular as you so he could spy on you, a feeling of unease brewing in his belly as he watched you.

He didn’t trust you, he didn’t think you were a whore. That’s kinda hypocritical of him but he was put off by your presence. Maybe a little bit jealous of you and how you managed to make a name for yourself. It was almost like he was challenging you mentally. A challenge you yourself wasn’t even aware of.

He glanced up at the clock when he noticed people getting up, he collected his stuff immediately and quietly followed behind you. Leon felt like he was being a bit stalker ish but he wanted answers. Plus it’s not like he was doing it to be a pervert.

He watched as you met up with some friends to go study in the library, obviously he was still shadowing you from afar. His nose shoved inside a book in the far corner in the library but close enough to spy on you from a distance.

He didn’t gain much information, you were hard working with a flirtatious personality, it was kind of hard for him to gather anything from this. But he overheard you and your friends talking about going to a party, his head perked up a bit like a dog smelling a delicious treat.

He wasn’t sure why but he felt this strange feeling wash over him, could he confront you there? But why was he trying to confront you? In all honesty he wasn’t sure, he just knew that he was jealous and scared that he would become a nobody again.

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You and your friends spoke happily about the most random stuff, like who got who pregnant, followed by did you see this new show? The topics never truly stayed on one solid one unless the whole group had a deep connection to it.

So it didn’t surprise you that a party happening later that night was mentioned. “It’s a costume party?” You asked curiously and your friend chuckled and nudged you with her elbow. “Oh my god, like yeah. Obviously. It’s halloween.” Ashley giggled and the rest of them did too.

“That’s so lame.” You murmured, twirling your pencil around in your hand. “Like.. this is the start of a bad hallmark movie or something.” You said as your lips pulled up into a thin line.

Your friends shrugged and they obviously knew you would go anyways, you glanced around the library per usual. Something you did just as a random habit and you spotted someone looking at you.

You frowned a bit as you watched the guy look away and bury his face back in his book. How strange? “What a weirdo.” Your friend, Jill, spoke up and it startled you a bit. “Huh?” You turned back to her and she stared at the guy before looking back at you.

“Do you know him?” She asked and you shook your head no. “Yeah.. I thought so. He kept glancing over here and I thought it was all in my head.” Jill mumbled softly as if to keep it between the both of you. With a nod of agreement from you Jill joined back into the conversation.

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Leon on the other hand was burning red in embarrassment, you had looked right at him and made a face. Now he looked creepy. He should just leave the library now or something, anything! But he stayed glued to his seat, straining his ears to eavesdrop on your table.

After a while he watched you all get up and leave, he sighed softly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nice going, Kennedy. You’ve outdone yourself and now you look like a creep.” He muttered in annoyance.

He quickly packed his stuff up and exited the library, shooting his friends a quick text before heading towards his dorm. He needed a Halloween costume now.

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Halloween shopping didn’t take long for your group of friends. All of you got ready in Claire’s dorm because it was spacious and she was the one who got the best one because rumor had it her brother fucked one of the deans for special privileges and Claire used it as blackmail for herself.

Everyone in that dorm knew it was far from the truth, she was just a good student and because of that she got special treatment alongside Chris.

Ashley was busy doing her makeup when she looked over at you who was staring at the costume you had got. “You okay?” She asked and you turned around to look at her. It was obvious to everyone she would go as Harley Quinn. It suited her. Is what you thought before responding.

“I’m questioning if this is too much.” You responded and Jill perked up. “Definitely not. It’s actually beneficial because it’ll probably be super hot at that party so the less clothes the better.” She murmured mindlessly as she put on her realistic wig..

Ashley and Claire glanced over at Jill before bursting out in a fit of giggles. “This is why we keep Jill on a high pedestal. She’s like super smart and pretty. It’s a two for one.” Ashley grinned and you chuckled softly.

Claire slung her arm over your shoulder and tugged you close. “Besides you’ll be matching with me, and y’know if someone bothers you and you don’t want them Chris will stand up for us.” She pinched your cheek gently and you swatted her hand away with a whine.

“Fine, you have a point.” You relented with raised hands as if you surrender. Claire smiled and grabbed her costume to change into.

Ashley put her hair up into two pigtails and grabbed the spray of temporary hair dye. “So.. Luis is going to be there.” She beamed, and everyone in the room rolled their eyes. “Ashley, you are such a simp for him.” Claire huffed and you and Jill nodded in agreement.

“Okay well it’s not my fault okay! It’s gotta be his stupid accent.” Ashley grumbled softly, pouting as she did so. When she turned around after staring at the vanity mirror for so long she smiled seeing everyone in their costumes.

Jill is Tiffany Valentine from the Chucky franchise, Ashley is Harley Quinn from the DC franchise, Claire is Starfire, and you are Raven.

You purse your lips as you hold the cape up between your fingertips. “You know for the longest time I had no idea what she was saying.” You admitted and everyone but Jill agreed. “You didn’t watch it with subtitles?” She laughed and you shook your head no with a grin.

“I thought she was just speaking gibberish.” You said and it just made everyone laugh harder as they gathered their things to get ready to leave. “Yeah because they would make one of their main characters speak gibberish everytime she used her powers.” Claire teased and you turned red with embarrassment but also laughter as you all walked out the door.

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Leon on the other hand was pre gaming in his dorm room with his friends, Carlos, Chris, and Luis. “Dude you know how many hot chicks are going to be there?” Chris murmured as he slipped into a brown jacket, pulling gloves onto his hands while searching for his Jason Vorhees mask.

“I'm definitely scoring tonight.” Carlos said as he messed with his hair, a soft hum leaving his lips. Leon shrugged, not very interested in hooking up with anybody. He was more interested in trying to one up you.

Luis sat next to Leon on the couch and stared at him for a second. “¿Qué pasa, Sancho?” He asked, tilting his head at the blonde who seemed to be anxious. “Nothing. Just.. thinking. I guess.” He replied, rubbing his nape.

Luis cocked his eyebrow up and narrowed his eyes at Leon suspiciously. “Well, whatever it is. I’m here if you wanna talk.” He assured, placing his hand on Leon’s shoulder. Leon nodded and grabbed his Ghostface mask.

“Are we all ready?” Chris asked as Carlos was putting on his gloves with fake claws on them. He had the signature Freddy Krueger colors on while Luis had the iconic blue jumpsuit and Michael Myers mask. Once everyone was ready they set off to the party, Leon swallowed anxiously under his mask.

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The first thing you were met with when you entered the frat house was a mess, a mess of drunk and high people. You made a face at the smell of sweat and sex filling the air. Have some decorum people. You grimaced as you were dragged through the party.

Somehow ending up in the living room with everyone in your friend group. “They have coke! Oh my gosh, I’ve like totally wanted to try it.” Ashley beamed and grabbed you. “C’mon let’s all do a line, when’s the next time you’ll be offered coke or something. We’ll be all old with wrinkles.” Ashley whined, trying to convince Claire and Jill who sighed and reluctantly agreed.

“Okay but doesn’t this like burn?” You questioned.

“What? Like Molly?” Ashley raised her eyebrow.

“No—Like doesn’t it burn your nostrils?” You raised an eyebrow back at her.

Jill sighed and picked up a straw that was on the table along with random lines of coke on the glass surface while you and Ashley argued over something as tedious as whether it’ll go down smoothly.

Claire followed in pursuit of Jill and did a line too, squeezing her eyes shut as she sniffled. “Jeez, that shit is strong..” She muttered as she pinched her nostrils, Jill nodded heavily in agreement.

“I forgot you’re the fucking coke queen of America. That’s my bad.” You huffed softly.

Ashley rolled her eyes and went to reach for a straw for you only to see Claire and Jill holding them. “You guys did it without us!!” She complained and you just sighed.

“Ash, we can just do a line right now.” You murmured which seemed to calm her down enough to keep her tantrum at bay. She holds your hand and leans down in sync with you as you both snorted a line.

At the same time you both did, Leon and his goon squad arrived at the party and everyone started cheering. Garnering the attention of all of you kneeled at the table.

You wiped away the residue on your nose and sniffled, narrowing your eyes at Leon for a second as he put on his Ghostface mask and his face was hidden again. He looked.. familiar.

You tried to ponder where you saw him at, but you just shrugged it off. Whatever. Probably nowhere.

Jill glanced over at Chris a few times while Claire was eyeing Carlos. Ashley immediately bounced up and was about to scurry over to Luis. You grabbed onto her wrist before she could run off.

“Ashley! Are you seriously ditching us for Luis?” You stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

“What? Noo—I would definitely not. ‘M just being friendly. I’ll totally come back.” She replied in her usual manner, which gave away that she was lying. You reluctantly let her go and she scurried off.

You sighed heavily as you watched Claire and Jill give each other a knowing look. “You guys too?!” You groaned out and they gave you a sheepish smile. “We’ll come back, we have our phones on sound and we’ll all go home together.” Jill assured, placing her hand on your thigh.

“You guys hate me.” You frowned with a slight pout and Claire pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Pinky promise we’ll come back.” She whispered and you took her pinky in your own. “Okay. Promise.” You sighed out.

Then you watched Claire and Jill disappear, probably to go curl up with Chris and Carlos. You weren’t very amused, the only reason you came was to hang out with them but Leon and his stupid friends came and ruined it.

Whatever. Least you had some entertainment, the coke on the table and the promise of alcohol.

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Leon smirked as he entered the party, he knew he was hot shit. But that lingering fear that he would be some name in the past still brewed within him. Which is why he agreed to tag along. The only question was where were you?

He sauntered deeper into the party with his friends until one by one they were plucked away by girls he recognized from your friend group. He pursed his lips beneath his mask, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he glanced around.

It’s as if fate itself had its way of showing itself as you stumbled into the kitchen, not dressed in much. His eyes widened in surprise as you walked to the punch bowl that was probably spiked by now and got yourself a cup of juice.

He watched from the corner of his eye in awe as you licked the rim of the cup to clean the few drops of juice you got on the side of the cup. He gulped and chastised himself, no he wasn’t supposed to be staring at you like some lovesick maniac. He was trying to prove himself tonight.

He would plow through so much pussy tonight it would leave you behind in the dust. Or at least that’s what he hoped.

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As the night lingered on you got more wasted to forget about the fact you got ditched for some dick. You couldn’t say you were surprised and honestly you were contemplating getting laid. But there was something uneasy about tonight.

Every room you slowly made your way into you saw some guy in the Ghostface costume making out with some girl, borderline groping each other over their clothes. At first you thought it was different guys until you got a good look at the face of the man behind the mask twice to realize it was the same guy with different girls each time. Weirdo. Is all you thought but you were smart enough to remember some guys have a game to see who can get the most kisses, hook ups, blowjobs in one night.

Leon on one hand was shocked each time you walked past him like it was nothing, like you just didn’t care. He was sure he could fuck some girl in front of everyone and you wouldn’t pay them any mind. What the hell?

With a growl he was determined to get your attention somehow, it didn’t even register that he was doing all this for your attention. His body reacting on pure instinct as he broke away from the kiss with the girl. A brief apology as he excused himself. Chasing after you as you drunkenly stumbled back to the kitchen.

He stood at a distance watching you rummage through the fridge. “All my friends hate me, oh my god.” You mumbled under your breath as you found nothing to satisfy your hungry belly. A soft pout on your expression until some guy pressed up against you from behind.

You paused for a second before you stood up straight and turned around to see some random guy in a batman costume staring down at you. “Uhm, hello.” You say as he leans down to inspect your costume. “Oh okay. Just go on ahead—“

“Raven? From Teen Titans?” He asked as his eyes met your own again.

“Oh yeah, my friend and I dressed as Raven and Starfire.” You slurred a bit as he rubbed his thumb over your chin. “Oh—Hellooo.” You giggled as the guy placed his other hand on your hip.

“We’re from the same franchise. I think your costume looks really cool.. I’m Brandon” He uttered softly, leaning down to brush his lips against yours and you eagerly reciprocated, whispering your own name into the kiss. You had plans starting to form in your head to go back with this guy to his dorm and hook up with him.

Well, you did at least plan to leave with him. But no way in hell was Leon going to let that happen. He stormed over, his angry expression hidden behind the Ghostface mask, he cleared his throat and tugged you away from the guy.

He glanced between you and the guy in his stupid batman costume. When he realized what he had done he immediately lied on the spot, blurting the first name of your friend that came to mind. “Ashley! Erm—Ashley asked if you could come help her with something.”

You blinked a few times as you processed what was said, realizing that the guy behind the Ghostface costume must know Ashley, which didn’t surprise you. “Oh.”

You bit on your bottom lip and glanced at Brandon. “Sorry. My friend needs me.” You replied and latched onto Leon’s arm. “Lead the way.” You hiccuped.

Leon immediately walked off with you, feeling a sense of pride at the knowledge he ruined that moment for you. Yet when he looked down at your face you didn’t seem to mind, in fact you seemed more worried about your friend.

Leon guided you out the party, letting the fresh air overcome him and you. He didn’t realize how hot it was inside until he stepped outside with you.

“Wait. She left the party?” You stopped in your tracks and gently tugged on Leon’s arm.

“What?” He said, confusion laced in his tone before he remembered the lie he uttered. “Oh yeah—yeah. She uhm, left to go with him but she told him to tell me you needed her.”

You didn’t seem to question him any further, which was a relief for him because he wasn’t sure how much more he could lie as he guided you back to the dorms. More specifically his.

What the fuck am I doing?

Why did I care so much that she was going to kiss some random dude?

Why am I taking her back to my dorm?

I should’ve been on my fourth hook up tonight and yet I haven’t touched any naked body yet.

Leon’s mind raced as he unlocked the door and guided you inside, closing the door behind him and locking it as you called out for Ashley.

“Ashley! Ugh I swear if it’s not something important and you made me miss out on the opportunity to get laid I’m gonna murder you!” You groaned out as you stumbled in your platformed boots; which in theory are horrible to wear while being wasted.

Leon pulled his mask off and tossed it onto his couch, wiping the sweat from his brow before he followed after you, grabbing hold of your wrist to turn you around towards him gently.

“Ew your hands are like.. gross and sweaty.” You made a face of disgust and his nose scrunched up in annoyance.

“Okay that’s a bit rude.” He huffed and looked at you, he would finally be able to see you for you at this moment. It suddenly hit him.

You’re not competition, obviously not if you’re not bragging about your hook up to him, rather your friend who definitely isn’t here.

Hell, you’re just a girl. A girl who he’s jealous of for no reason.

A girl who’s.. really fucking pretty?

His eyes widened as he came to the realization that it wasn’t anger at being replaced, it wasn’t jealousy of hearing your name being uttered time and time again instead of his.

No, that's stupid. I’ll see if she’s really as good as everyone says she is. He was determined to see what was so special about you.

Your nose scrunched up as if mimicking his own expression as you could see different emotions ran across his face. “Uhm hello?—“ You went to wave your hand in front of his eyes when he tightened his grip on you and pulled you in for a kiss with force. Such force that you stumbled.

A quick lie running out of his mouth smoothly as he cupped your face in his hands. “I lied, Ashley didn’t call you here.. I just have such a big crush on you and didn’t know how to express it.” He breathed out as your tongue ran over his bottom lip.

You, to his surprise, didn’t fight back or protest the kiss. You seemed to encourage it more than anything.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s kinda sly of you..” You remarked as you pulled back from the kiss, your lipstick smeared on his soft plump ones. You brought your thumb up to his bottom lip and wiped away as much as you could.

“So what’s your name you big stud.” You teased in a drunken tone, Leon bit his bottom lip and ducked down to capture your lips again. “Leon.” He muttered into the kiss, slowly guiding you to his room with careful steps.

He could tell you were getting tired of how slow he was moving so he patted your thigh to encourage you to hop up. Once you did he grabbed the back of your legs and held you firmly against him, your lips not parting from his own as he stumbled into his bedroom.

He dropped you down onto the bed and finally pulled away. “I have to turn on the lamp..” He mumbled quietly as he reached off to the side to flick the light on. The moonlight helped to illuminate the parts of the room the light didn’t reach fully.

When he looked down at you he felt his heart rate increase. “Fuck.” He cursed and you just smiled at the sight above you.

You reached your hand up to move his hair out of his face. “What? Think I’m pretty or something?” You asked and he nodded, a soft giggle leaving your precious lips.

So precious. He thought as he pressed his left palm above your head against the bed while his other hand came up to cup and fondle your breast above your costume.

You managed to kick your boots off somehow, leaning back against the bed comfortably. “Well that’s sweet of you. I think you’re quite handsome.” You replied as your hair laid spread out behind you.

Leon hesitated for a second, what does he do now? He’s been hooking up with people for awhile now and for once in his life he’s stunned on what to do next. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a soft moan as you drag his hand up to your mouth to suck on his thumb.

“Hah.. you’re good at that hm?” He cooed, pressing his thumb down against your tongue. With a soft hum from you he adjusted the way he was hovering above you so he could use both hands instead of one.

He dragged his left hand down your torso right down to your pussy, he could feel the heat radiating off of such an intimate part of you. This made his cock throb with want as he pushed the crotch of your costume to the side.

“I guess this costume is pretty much easy access..” He spoke his inner thoughts aloud, watching you blush beneath his watchful gaze before his fingertip brushed against your clit.

You mewled softly and brought your hands up to paw at his chest, wanting his costume off but he clicked his tongue. “Patience. Good things come to those who wait.” He scolded you lightly and gave you a shit eating grin as you frowned.

“You’re like a delicacy.” He explained, rubbing his middle and ring finger through your folds before prodding them against your hole. “You must be handled with care.” He punctuated his words by shoving his fingers inside of you.

You gasped and your back arched off the bed a little. “O-Oh fuck. That feels good.. your fingers are so thick.” You whimpered around his thumb, he snickered softly and pulled his thumb away from your mouth, pressing the wet digit against your clit to rub hard and fast circles against the sensitive little bud while his other hand moved in tandem by fucking his fingers in and out of you.

A slick squelching sound resounding through the room followed by lewd moans coming from you. Who would’ve thought having sex while being high on coke made everything feel ten times better?

“Leon.” You whined softly as your walls clenched down tightly around his fingers. “You’re g’nna make me cum..”

Leon just shrugged and leaned down to nip at your neck. “And? That’s what you want, right baby?” He whispered directly in your ear, sucking on your earlobe. He let out a low chuckle as you cried out a soft yes.

He doubled down on his efforts and you swore you saw stars, definitely. You squealed softly as your orgasm crashed down onto your body like a truck, your cheeks and the tips of your ears turning red and hot with arousal.

“There’s we go. That’s my girl.” He lapped at the pulse point on your neck as you settled down from your high, he took the opportunity to strip himself of his clothes but not before getting a taste of what he was going to be indulging in.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth and swirled his tongue around his own digits, sighing softly as he tasted the sweet essence that he had coaxed out of you.

“God. That shits perfect.” Leon bit his bottom lip as he began to remove his clothes, eyeing you hungrily as his cock sprung up into view.

You mumbled something before sitting up on your elbows, your mouth almost instantly watering at the sight of his dick. “Woah.” You blinked a few times before reaching out to touch.

Accidentally grabbing it too hard made Leon hiss in pleasure. “God damn. Easy baby.” He groaned out, and you winced out a soft apology, letting him guide your hand to be the perfect pressure and pace for him to get off on.

“Wait..” You said suddenly which made Leon pause, staring down at you questioningly. “Can you get your uh.. the mask.” You asked coyly, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger slyly as it registered what you wanted in his head.

“Sure thing.” He chuckled and patted your cheek, disappearing for a second before returning with the mask on his head. You grinned wickedly as he stood near the edge of his bed.

“How do I look—“ He was cut off by you yanking him down onto the bed, straddling him as you smirked. “I’m gonna absolutely ravish you.” You sighed out softly, having already removed your clothes when he stepped out the room.

Leon was quite stunned at the 360 shift in attitude. You were just crying on his fingers a few seconds ago and now you’re practically pinning him down. He placed his hands on your thighs, gently rubbing his thumbs against your soft skin.

“Yeah? What if I want to ravish you?” He retorted and you leaned down to press your bare chest against his own, “You could try.” You slurred quietly, but as the hours went on the more you slightly sobered up.

“Guess I’ll have to try super hard then.” He whispered softly as he grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip of it through your folds with a soft hum. You bit your bottom lip as you eventually sank down on him, the two releasing a soft moan in sync with each other.

It didn’t take long for Leon to start bouncing you on his cock as you rode him with an eager pace, it seems the mask was doing things for you that you yourself weren’t even aware would do.

The wet sounds between the two resounding through the room as skin on skin slapping against each other blended into the mix. “Fuck, you’re so tight.. ‘n wet.. ‘n warm.” He whined, fingers digging into your plush thighs as he bucked his hips up into you.

You nodded in acknowledgment. Your eyes fluttered shut as you could feel that coil in your gut tightening with each thrust and bounce. You knew you were close and so did Leon. “I’m almost there.” He panted out, gulping beneath the mask which was starting to prove to be extremely hot. He was sure he had sweat all over his face and head, if he was to remove the mask he was 99% sure that his hair would be thoroughly damp.

Yet if he could get girls to ride him as crazy and as good as you do he would wear it for every hookup encounter he ever had.

You reached your hands up to start punching and twisting your nipples, fondling your tits to tease him. He grunted loudly as he watched you with bated breath. “Fuck, keep playing with yourself like that. Touch that pretty little clit of yours too.” He gritted out as you did so, causing your walls to clamp down tightly around his cock.

Your jaw dropped as his cock brushed against that spongy spot inside of you that never failed to give you chills. “I-I can’t hold it..” You cried out, hand still moving quickly against your clit. Leon could see your chest rising and falling quickly and he was just a few seconds away from spilling his own seed.

“I know. W-Where do you want it?” He uttered aloud, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back against his bed. “Mm. Inside, please.” You whined, bucking your hips eagerly.

Leon's eyes shot open and his head shot up to stare at you. “Fuck.. that’s so hot. Are you sure?” He was a bit nervous and didn’t want to cum inside of you if you weren’t 100% sure.

With an eager nod you spoke once more. “Yes! God, please! Inside of me, Leon.” You insisted, throwing your head back in pleasure as he thrusted a couple more times before pulling your hips flush against his own, he came before you did and it only took a few quick rubs from you before your orgasm hit you once more.

You practically collapsed on top of him with a heavy breath, resting your head on his chest as he moved his hands up to pull the mask off, finally being free of the sweaty contraption. He wrapped both his arms around you as his cock started to soften within your warm wet walls.

Fuck. He had to admit that the people were right about you being a good fuck.

Especially when you looked up at him with that soft smile but your eyes told a different story as you wiggled your hips a bit, it’s as if he didn’t even start to soften to begin with as he was fully hard within seconds.

Guess he was in for a long night, just as long as you don’t hear the incessant buzzing coming from your phone that was discarded on his nightstand haphazardly from your friends.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #writing ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#fuckboy!leon #fuckgirl!reader #kinktober

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yuikomorii · 28 days ago

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Ayato: Idol AU Headcanons

// Since you guys enjoyed my DL K-pop AU posts, I decided to write some HCs about Ayato, because he was the most talked about. In this AU, the Sakamakis aren’t actual brothers, nor are they vampires; the group’s concept is just the one of a vampire family. Some details here are based on true things about Ayato but have been slightly tweaked to better fit the idol AU. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

He was once a basketball player and even served as the captain of his team. His dedication to the sport often led him to compete in numerous tournaments, causing him to skip many classes.

Ayato was scouted for his visuals. The CEO of REJET LABELS noticed his youthful yet refined features while Ayato was casually walking home from high school.

A former classmate confirmed Ayato’s popularity at school. She also mentioned that people would randomly take pictures of him on the street, and a bunch of his photos are used on Pinterest for inspiration.

Even before starting his trainee period, Ayato was already quite good in both slow and freestyle dancing. After beginning his training, he discovered his rapping abilities.

As a trainee, the first person Ayato befriended was Laito, who remained his closest companion even after debuting. The two are often spotted hanging out together.

Ayato hates doing aegyo. However, during a special episode of the variety show MUKBROS, Kou dared him to sing and dance to a cute song. The performance went extremely viral, skyrocketing his popularity. Despite this success, Ayato has admitted that the experience still gives him PTSD.

Ayato is in high demand for brand deals and appears to be everywhere. Rumor has it he’s poised to become the next Chanel ambassador. Unfortunately, this has led some solo fans of other members to accuse him of favoritism, casting him in a negative light.

He is the first member of the SAKAMAKIS to appear in Vogue, where he was officially recognized as the "IT boy."

He was ranked 1st in top 100 most beautiful faces (male version); one of the reasons why he gained the “Visual God” title within the idol community.

His best known controversy involves plastic surgery. Netizens noticed changes in Ayato’s nose and jaw when comparing his pre-debut photos and videos to his current appearance. A bunch of Dialovers took his side, attributing the changes to puberty, yet others strongly disagreed, spreading hate by making posts about him looking “botched.”

Last year, he partnered with soloist Cardia as a MC. This experience had a mixed impact on Ayato’s image. While some criticized him for occasionally forgetting his lines or laughing and posing in front of the camera while Cardia consistently gave her all, others came to his defense. Many fans and non-fans argued that the criticism was too harsh, pointing out that Ayato was never intended to be the spokesperson of his group, but Reiji. They also emphasized that it was unfair to compare someone with no prior experience to someone used to give speeches.

When asked who he considers the best-looking person he knows, he confidently answered, while giggling, "myself." Shu then posed the same question but added a rule: he couldn’t choose himself again. In response, Ayato admitted that Cardia is a close second.

Despite this, the biggest dating rumor surrounding Ayato involved a possible relationship with the daughter of one of the staff members. Diapatch spotted Ayato with a blonde girl at a private event, and sasaengs later reported seeing them holding hands late at night. Whether they are actually dating remains unclear, but the rumors enraged many of Ayato’s solo stans. Some were so upset that they filmed themselves destroying his PCs and degrading the girl online.

The hate train quickly faded, especially after Ayato's successful solo debut. His fancams went viral, with his styling making him truly resemble a Vampire Prince. This reminded netizens of his iconic performance on MUKBROS, leaving them stunned by his duality. On top of that, his noticeable improvement silenced critics who had dismissed him as "just a visual."

When asked which idol he’d like to get to know better, he mentioned soloist KINO from the same company. A few months later, KINO invited him to his limited-edition web show, where they had the chance to interact, play games and even filmed a TikTok together afterward.

It’s rumored that not only REJET LABELS, but also other companies pressure idols into plastic surgery to resemble Ayato. This theory gained credibility when Zen from Un: Birthday Song looked different in middle school but began resembling Ayato after becoming a trainee, securing his debut spot in a reality competition.

People who have seen Ayato describe him as having an arrogant and bold presence on stage, perfectly fitting his vampire idol persona. However, off-stage, he’s known to be kind to his fans and happy to engage in casual conversations. Recently, a Dialover shared their experience meeting Ayato, saying, “In MVs and concerts he appears untouchable, but in real life, you realize he’s just a normal handsome boy.”

He is frequently described as the ideal type in street interviews, admired for his stunning looks, hardworking nature, and confident personality. Moreover, many trainees have cited him as their role model.

#(these were so fun!)#(the read more option isn’t working again so I hope it’s not really too long lol)#sakamaki ayato #ayato sakamaki #diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #admin

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certainempatheticturkeymuffin · 27 days ago

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Saw a post about Mushang and it's similarities to Liushen, then thought about how interesting it would be to have those in the same fic — then I went down a rabbit hole that included Mobing and Gongzhi (for some reason?)

so... here's this plotbunny, it's really fucking long though, sorry!

(oops, it posted before I finished, sorry about that, it's fixed now!)

Shang Qinghua knew, theoretically, that his death would be at the hands of Mobei-jun. He knew that when he saved him, he knew that all these years of serving him, but... it's finally sunk in. That Mobei-jun is going to kill him. That the bruises and frostbite and broken bones are all leading up to his death. He wraps another cut and thinks, somewhat deliriously... that maybe he should've killed Mobei-jun on that mission.

Shen Qingqiu knew his fate — the fate of the Scum Villain. He knew that any goodwill he'd built up was destroyed the moment he pushed Luo Binghe into the Abyss. Knows that all those years of treating him well, only to betray him, may have actually made the situation worse. He thinks back on that day, suddenly realizing that he probably could've made it look like an accident — he could've had Binghe "accidentally" pushed into the Abyss during the chaos, could've faked a Without-A-Cure flare up to excuse his lack of rescue. Maybe, if he'd done that, Binghe would've had mercy.

Their weekly meetings become stilted, their tea goes cold, their snacks uneaten. They don't argue about Airplane's terrible writing, they don't even reminisce over AC or the internet. The air is filled with unease, polluting each of their peaks... until they both snap. They confide in each other, cursing the System, cursing their choices, and try to plan — to dig themselves out of these holes they've dug. The clock is ticking for Binghe's return. Shang Qinghua's wounds are getting worse — he doesn't know if his death will be expedited or delayed at this rate.

And so, they argue and plan and eventually come to a few conclusions...

Shang Qinghua needs the protection of the sect. Needs to confess and beg for Yue Qingyuan's protection as he abandons Mobei-jun. Needs the protection of someone Mobei-jun had no chance of defeating.

Shen Qingqiu, likewise, needs protection — but it's written that Luo Binghe cannot lose, not to anyone in the sect... no one, except for Liu Qingge, who didn't live long enough to fight him, who didn't have a single canonical fight for the world to measure him against. The War God. The one person that wasn't bound by the narrative.

They decide to deal with Shang Qinghua first — Binghe isn't scheduled to leave the Abyss for years, after all. Mobei-jun, however, is a current threat. Every meeting leaves Shang Qinghua with more and more injuries, injuries that the original goods never had to deal with. They don't know if this Mobei-jun is going to follow PIDW's timeline. They don't know how long it'll take before he beats Shang Qinghua to a bloody pulp. After some arguing, it's agreed to come clean to Mu Qingfang first — to test the waters. He's been treating all of Shang Qinghua's wounds since they were disciples, and he'd be good back up if Yue Qingyuan didn't immediately cave to Shen Qingqiu's demands. Of course, Shang Qinghua wouldn't tell the complete truth — no one needed to know that Shang Qinghua spared Mobei-jun because he was hot — but he wouldn't alter the story too much. Better to keep to small lies, easy to keep consistent.

If it goes poorly... they'll just run. They'll abandon the friends and family they've found here, and they'll use whatever plot devices they can find to disguise themselves. The only reason it's not Plan A is because Mobei-jun knows Shang Qinghua's qi signature, and the only artifacts they know that can change qi signatures are... annoying to acquire and dangerous to use.

Mu Qingfang isn't surprised when Shang-shixiong shows up with various injuries, absolutely covered in demonic qi. It's routine at this point to sit him down, perform a check up, and ask questions he knows won't be answered. So he does. He heals the cuts and bruises, sets and heals the bones, and does his best to calm the eternally-stressed qi lest his shixiong have a deviation. He asks how this happened, expecting the usual evasive answer (hating that his shixiong is being abused while he does nothing but fix the aftermath), and...

and Shang Qinghua answers.

His shixiong, after years– decades of asking, stutters out an explanation. That he's been a spy for Mobei-jun since that mission where he was the only survivor. That he did it because he was scared, that by the time he was powerful enough to do anything about it, Mobei-jun was a king, and it would probably start a war if he killed him. He says Mobei-jun's been hurting him more often, that he's terrified he's going to die, and Mu Qingfang carefully soothes his shixiong's qi as tears start to fall and he stutters out his plan to team up with Shen-shixiong to tell Zhangmen-shixiong, to beg for forgiveness — for protection, even if it means sitting in a prison cell. He just doesn't want to die.

And in the face of his sobbing shixiong, constantly over-worked and terrified, Mu Qingfang promises to help. Because what else can he do? Turn his back on the shixiong he's been watching slowly fall apart over the decades? The shixiong he's watched go from introverted to downright anxious — the shixiong he's had to pick up and put back together with increasing frequency. Even if he hadn't come clean, Mu Qingfang would've had to have done something soon, with the way the injuries were increasing in severity. He's just glad Shang-shixiong told him first, so they could approach the sect leader together. It wouldn't have been good for his shixiong's stress levels if he'd demanded the sect leader interrogate him to figure out what was going on.

So, the two meet up with Shen Qingqiu and demand a meeting with Yue Qingyuan, who, as always, immediately makes time for Shen-shixiong. Shang Qinghua stutters through his story again, Mu Qingfang regulating his qi, and Shen Qingqiu bringing out a particular icy glare whenever Yue Qingyuan looks like he's going to interrupt. Zhangmen-shixiong's face is carefully blank by the time Shang Qinghua finishes speaking, at which point, Mu Qingfang decides to speak up.

He tells Zhangmen-shixiong of the countless injuries over the decades, of his certainty of their demonic origin, even during that first meeting. He tells the sect leader that if Shang Qinghua is going to be punished for protecting himself, for preventing a war, then he'll need to punish Mu Qingfang too. As a head disciple, he should've reported any suspicious injuries to his shizun, as a Peak Lord, he should've immediately informed Zhangmen-shixiong of Shang Qinghua's continuous injuries and of their suspiciously demonic origin. He says that he has even less of an excuse than Shang Qinghua, who was genuinely afraid for his life and the well-being of his sect. Mu Qingfang simply didn't want to make the situation worse for him, ignoring all rules and expectations that would've had the situation cleared up sooner.

Shen Qingqiu, clearly approving of Mu Qingfang's ardent defense, decides to continue, stating that the sect hasn't experienced an increase in failed missions or other sabotage. He explains that, clearly, Shang Qinghua had been doing his best to protect the sect, even under such strenuous circumstances. He sees no reason to be harsh towards someone who'd been a child when it started, and who was so thoroughly terrified that he only approached Shen Qingqiu, as a friend, because he could see he'd end up dead sooner or later due to the beatings.

Yue Qingyuan lets them all say their piece, and sighs. He sees Shang Qinghua's terror, and he understands both Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu's arguments. He says that this was a breach of trust, that ordinarily this would call for execution, but... Shang Qinghua has not caused harm to the sect, and had he continued, the only harm would've been to himself. As long as Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are willing to bear the consequences, Yue Qingyuan will allow this to be swept under the rug, never spoken of again.

Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are quick to agree, and Shang Qinghua's punishment is to update the sect's defense arrays... left unsaid was the expectation that Mobei-jun never be able to enter the sect again. And so, the matter is dealt with, and Shang-shixiong looks like he's had the weight of the world lifted off him once the arrays are complete.

So long as he doesn't leave the sect without a qi-cloaking artifact (courtesy of the Artifact Peak), he'll be safe. Mu Qingfang feels... thrilled, to know his shixiong won't have to suffer anymore.

Liu Qingge notices Shen Qingqiu's nerves as he cleanses his meridians. It's an unexpected change of pace, given the dour mood the man's been in for... months, at this point. The session finishes in silence, but there's an air of anticipation that has Liu Qingge... loitering, just a bit.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh, pours him tea, and starts to talk — quietly, as if ashamed of his words. He shares that, during the chaos at the end of the Immortal Alliance Concerence, his prized disciple broke a seal. It had been placed on him at birth, presumably by one of his parents, and revealed him to be a heavenly demon. He explains that he panicked at the sight of the seal, understanding what it meant, but his disciple looked just as shocked as him. He understood that his disciple was a demon, that he clearly didn't know that fact, and given the presence of multiple sects and the ongoing catastrophe... his disciple would die, if anyone else stumbled upon him.

Liu Qingge listens, as Shen Qingqiu shares that he pushed his own disciple into the Endless Abyss. His grief makes more sense now, Liu Qingge thinks. It's not just the grief of a teacher losing their favorite student, it's also the guilt of pushing that student into danger, even if it's to protect them. Even he would've hesitated to cut down the disciple, if he'd formed such a bond and the child clearly had no idea what was going on.

They continue sitting in silence, and Liu Qingge is almost ready to leave, before Shen Qingqiu speaks up again. He explains that Luo Binghe was a heavenly demon, and the last one — presumably his father — required the collaboration of multiple sects to seal away. There's a chance that Luo Binghe will survive the Abyss, and escape it.

There's a muted fear in Shen Qingqiu's eyes, as he states there's a chance Luo Binghe will hunt him down. That, given a demon's propensity for overreactions, he may take the entire sect with him. It wasn't like he explained his reasoning, when he pushed the child into the Abyss. All he'd know is that his caring shizun saw he was a demon and immediately pushed him into hell.

And Liu Qingge can understand that fear. Heavenly Demons were strong, too strong for even him to be confident in facing them alone. Even if this one was a child, if it managed to escape the Abyss... it would be too strong for Shen Qingqiu to survive. There's an obvious solution then: train until Shen Qingqiu is strong enough to at least run away.

He says that they'll go on hunts together, so Shen Qingqiu can fight those beasts he knows so much about, to get in practice as they look for any artifact that might help him. He says they'll spar, and he'll even let him face the Bai Zhan disciples for variety. Shen Qingqiu is... reluctant, but quickly realizes that it's probably his best option. With the condition that they return to the sect at least once a month to check on his disciples, he agrees to Liu Qingge's proposal.

They'll both train, and Liu Qingge won't let him out of sight for even a moment — not with a heavenly demon after his head.

The months afterwards are... peaceful.

An Ding grows used to the sight of Mu Qingfang, who arrives just before dawn every morning to share breakfast with Shang Qinghua before they must start work. They do each other's hair and gossip, sharing whatever happened the day before as they get ready. Without the constant fear, and with Mu Qingfang's help taming his curls (as the only other one in the sect with curly hair), the sect slowly comes to realize that Shang Qinghua is a total knockout, actually, it was just hidden behind frizzy hair, eyebags, and his constant terrified hunching.

There are still bad days, of course, where Mu Qingfang has to insist he delegate his work to his head disciple, or where Shang Qinghua ends up on Qian Cao in the middle of the night having a panic attack, but... they're growing rarer as time passes. Qian Cao learns to turn their heads when Shang Qinghua arrives with an early shipment or unexpected, expensive goods. They learn to mind their business when they see him comfort their Shizun after a particularly challenging day.

It doesn't really surprise anyone when they start courting. The only surprise is that Shang Qinghua is the one that started it, but even that is less shocking now than it would've been the year before. An Ding is happy that their shifu finally looks safe and healthy (he actually stops working at a reasonable hour now, even if it is still after sunset), and Qian Cao is glad their shizun has someone of his own to vent to (given the stress of his job and the various struggles that come with it).

As for Qing Jing, they're absolutely thrilled that their shizun isn't moping anymore. The loss of Binghe hit them hard too, but seeing Shen Qingqiu make the effort to go on hunts made it easier for them to move on too. They miss him, when he's gone, but he always returns with treats from various villages, and a week's worth of stories and lessons to impart. He's even compiled his own bestiary! Ning Yingying has taken to giving Liu Qingge sweets as a thank you for helping her shizun, and Ming Fan grows more comfortable in his old role as head disciple, with how his shizun actually sees him and compliments him, rather than missing Binghe. The Bamboo House is still... a very hard place to be. Without Shizun, it's empty, and even with his recovery, the vacant room seems to bring back his grief.

Seeing this, Qing Jing is both relieved and absolutely pissed when Liu Qingge offers up his spare room instead. Shen Qingqiu accepts, and it's become common for him to join the Bai Zhan disciples in their morning exercises before returning to teach on Qing Jing. They are, understandably, absolutely pumped to have another Peak Lord around to fight (on top of their own being around more often! Shifu teaches them more! And is he getting better at it? What miracles!)

They settle into a routine, and, though it takes an unexpectedly long time, they announce their courting to Yue Qingyuan, who looks both heartbroken and extremely happy for them. Qing Jing gives Liu Qingge a surprisingly scary shovel talk (though he's mostly amused, he respects their dedication), but are overall very happy that their shizun is happy. Bai Zhan is just cheering that another Peak Lord has basically taken up permanent residence, since Shen Qingqiu stays in Liu Qingge's house rather than the bamboo house. They enjoy the unique challenge he gives, and some of the braver ones tell their shifu that he better treat him right or they'll try to take him for themselves (he went particularly hard on them after that, but they had zero regrets — Shen-shibo is a catch after all!)

Meanwhile, Mobei-jun is... frustrated and heartbroken. He can no longer enter Cang Qiong Sect, and he can no longer find Shang Qinghua's qi signature. He doesn't know why — was Shang Qinghua caught? Is he dead? Why else would he just... randomly leave? He's stuck with Mobei-jun for decades, why would he leave now? What was the catalyst? Was he truly so uncomfortable with Mobei-jun's courting? Why wouldn't he just say so!?

The questions leave him angry and frustrated, with no way to get answers. It's only after he enters Luo Binghe's service (an embarrassing loss — would he have done better with Qinghua's advice?) that he finally gets... something of an answer. A potential explanation.

Luo Binghe has no friends in the demon realm, trusts absolutely no one, but he's still a kind person. When he sees that Mobei-jun is frustrated, all it takes is that curly haired boy (a face so similar to Qinghua's) asking for all the questions to come spilling out. Whether it takes hours or minutes, Mobei-jun doesn't know, all he remembers is the lesson from that conversation:

Humans court differently. Constant physical bombardment is known as abuse.

And Mobei-jun is sick.

He hurt Qinghua. He drove away the one man that stuck with him through everything, just because he couldn't be bothered to double check that his courting would be understood. According to Luo Binghe... it was a miracle Shang Qinghua hadn't left sooner. And the worst part? Mobei-jun can't right this wrong. He can't explain himself. Because Cang Qiong has new wards, and Shang Qinghua has figured out how to make himself thoroughly disappear, even though Mobei-jun does receive word when the Peak Lord is spotted during a trade deal. He can't get Qinghua back. There's nothing he can do.

So he stays by Luo Binghe's side. His curly hair, his similar face... these days, Mobei-jun curses himself for not digging into Shang Qinghua's history. For this boy is an orphan, a street rat, and now it would be near impossible to find out his true relation to Shang Qinghua, given that no one knew which humans Tianlang-jun had bed. It doesn't truly matter, whether he is a cousin, brother, or nephew, Mobei-jun will right his wrongs through Shang Qinghua's kin, unable to reach the man himself.

When Luo Binghe leaves the Demon Realm, he goes to Huan Hua, and things progress pretty much as they did in canon, with Shen Qingqiu running, absolutely fucking terrified, being force fed blood, and agreeing to be held in the Water Prison to avoid blowback on the sect. Only difference is that Liu Qingge tried to kill LBH, which almost caused an incident with Huan Hua, because no one believed he was a demon. In the water prison, Luo Binghe sees... a ring. He knows his shizun never wore that before, so he asks about it. Not wanting to put Liu Qingge in even more danger, Shen Qingqiu stays silent.

Gongyi Xiao helps Shen Qingqiu escape, and things continue to progress. When Liu Qingge squares up to fight Luo Binghe, he notices him wearing a ring, threaded onto a necklace, and so similar to Shen Qingqiu's. It doesn't take him long to process the fact that his beloved shizun is... already taken.

By Liu fucking Qingge.

He's thoroughly pissed off, he goes to attack, but pauses when he sees his shizun grip Liu-shishu tightly, shaking like a leaf. He looks like he's preparing to take his husband and run. The thought is... off-putting. Because Liu Qingge is the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. Why doesn't Shizun have faith in the man he married?

So he asks.

And Shen Qingqiu doesn't answer.

Liu Qingge still hasn't relaxed, ready to attack at any moment, and Luo Binghe is running out of patience.

"If Shizun finds this demon despicable enough to throw into the Abyss, he should let his husband kill it."

"That's not why he did it."

Liu Qingge's words throw him off balance. He expected the man to be shocked, hearing that his loving husband had done such a thing (maybe cause a rift in their relationship), he expected, maybe, to be attacked for being so disrespectful.

Liu Qingge then explains, because Shen Qingqiu is terrified into silence.

And Luo Binghe is crushed. Shizun threw him into the Abyss... to save him? Shizun was scared for his safety?

And suddenly Luo Binghe feels sick, when he remembers what he's done. How he hurt Shizun, who was too scared to answer. Who just wanted to protect him, only to realize later that he wasn't thinking straight — that his words were twisted in his effort to get Luo Binghe into the safest place possible in that moment: the Endless Abyss. The shizun that believed in his capabilities enough to be afraid that he'd come seeking revenge.

The fight drains out of him, Liu Qingge doesn't relax, but Shen Qingqiu behind him looks just the slightest bit more curious than terrified. Luo Binghe pulls out a note, written from Mobei-jun to Shang Qinghua, and drops it onto the roof. "This disciple apologizes to Shizun. Please ensure this message gets to Shang-shishu." He uses Xin Mo to teleport to a different roof, staying just long enough to see Liu Qingge hand the note to Shen Qingqiu, who collapsed bonelessly into his side.

He goes to the Northern Desert, rather than the Southern Kingdom. He arrives in the sitting area of Mobei-jun's quarters, and plops himself into a seat. He thinks, and thinks, and he's feeling absolutely awful by the time Mobei-jun arrives. He takes one look at Luo Binghe's disheveled state, and takes the seat next to him.

They talk.

Mobei-jun is a surprisingly comforting presence. He'd always listened and offered advice, but Luo Binghe didn't think he'd have the patience for talking him through... whatever the hell this is. Heartbreak? He isn't sure.

It helps though, and Luo Binghe feels much lighter. Mobei-jun had already promised to never darken Cang Qiong's doorstep, to never go anywhere near Shang Qinghua again, after what he'd done... Luo Binghe would just have to do the same. Even if all he wanted was to go back to Qing Jing, to his room in the Bamboo House... but Shizun is married now, there's no way he'd allow Luo Binghe to stay there permanently.

So he just... stays in the Demon Realm. He's an emperor now, surely Shizun wouldn't want him neglecting that duty? And even if he would've liked Shizun's advice... Mobei-jun would have to do. He had experience, and he's been nothing but helpful. Decision made, Luo Binghe embraces his status as the Demon Emperor, and gives it his full attention.

Without him, Shen Qingqiu's trial falls apart, even as the Palace Master accuses Liu Qingge of killing Luo Binghe. There's not enough concrete evidence for Shen Qingqiu's crimes, and the character defenses from the sect and his husband all speak louder than Qiu Haitang's slander. Even if Liu Qingge was in extremely hot water with Huan Hua, they couldn't prove he'd done anything either.

Shen Qingqiu delivers Mobei-jun's note to Mu Qingfang, asking him to be there when Shang Qinghua read it, because who knew what was in it. He agrees, and they read it as soon as possible, to get it over with.

It's an apology, with an explanation of their different cultures and a promise to never bother him again. It's a promise to right his wrongs through Luo Binghe, who he assumes to be related to Shang Qinghua through the boy's mother. It's short and blunt, and Shang Qinghua is... conflicted. He loves Mu Qingfang, and honestly, couldn't even dream of a life without him, but... Mobei-jun was his dream man. Thinking like that... perhaps it was for the best that they didn't end up together. The reality could never live up to the expectation.

More importantly, is him remembering his half-sister in this life: Xi-jie. Who had suddenly cut contact with him completely, and who he'd never managed to track down afterwards, not having known her full name. Shang Qinghua is crushed, to realize the protagonist was that close to being given a better life. Had Su Xiyan managed to contact him at any point, he would've taken her son in in a heartbeat. Mu Qingfang consoles him, and they decide, jointly, that it was for the best if he didn't pursue that relationship. Not with Mobei-jun promising to stick by the boy, and not with the way he'd treated Shen Qingqiu.

And everyone just... moves on with their lives.

Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua are happy together; they have three kids that get absolutely spoiled by their disciples, and they take care of each other, ensuring neither overworks too severely. Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu, without the threat of Binghe's return hanging over them, relax more. They enjoy peaceful days with the Qing Jing disciples, they have fun jointly beating up the Bai Zhan disciples and teaching them new moves, and their hunts aren't nearly as battle-focused as they were before, giving Shen Qingqiu a chance to study the beasts rather than immediately going to fight them.

Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun are rarely apart and treat each other as equals in all things. They value the other's advice when implementing policies, and they will each jump to the other's defense, whether it be physically or through words. It surprises absolutely no one when their affair is found out — at first a convenient way to control Xin Mo, eventually morphing into a proper relationship. They're the rulers of the demon realm, they need not abide by the rules, but... Luo Binghe enjoys planning the wedding, and Mobei-jun can't deny him that, even if it meant dealing with the paperwork of technically merging the two kingdoms but also not. Their broken hearts have long been mended by each other, and it's no surprise when they have six children, close-knit and loving, like the family they wished they'd had sooner.

Tianlang-jun rotted away, despite Zhuzhi-lang's best efforts. His last act was to give Zhuzhi-lang enough energy to sustain his human form indefinitely. He is purposeless, and alone, and he sits beside his uncle's corpse for far longer than he should have. There's nothing left for him, not with his uncle gone.

So he exits the cave, and he sits under a tree, out in the open. He is very clearly a demon within Huan Hua territory, so it wouldn't take long for a cultivator to stumble upon him and put him out of his misery. Sure enough, in the middle of his patrol, Gongyi Xiao sees a snake demon just... sitting there. He doesn't look hostile, nor does he look like he's going to move.

He also just... looks kinda pathetic.

So, Gongyi Xiao makes a decision. He can't, in good conscience, leave it there. If he does, and it attacks someone, that's his fault. He also can't just kill it if it's not even doing anything. So he decides to... initiate conversation.

It takes a while for Zhuzhi-lang to bother properly responding, but once he does, they get along quite well. He shares stories about his and his uncle's journies through the human realm, reminiscing as he starts to process his grief. Gongyi Xiao decides, maybe this demon isn't that bad actually, and before they know it, it's sun down and Gongyi Xiao is very late.

They meet daily, with Gongyi Xiao taking on more patrols than usual to make sure his demon is doing alright. Eventually, though, pieces of Zhuzhi-lang's story start to... click. They conflict with things he's been told by his shizun. Maybe Zhuzhi-lang is misremembering in his grief, but... he's concerned enough to start investigating on his own.

He finds a lot of dirt on the Old Palace Master, most of it completely unrelated to Su Xiyan, which is what he was actually trying to investigate. Eventually, he grows so disgusted with the sheer amount of crimes the old man has committed that he decides to just... start a coup. He's well-liked, so it's easy enough to get people on his side — it's even easier when he starts spreading rumors and has all of the man's misdeeds printed into a fairly popular book (more than a few publishing houses were burned down because of it, oops). He didn't... intend to replace the old man, but that's what happened and, hey, now he can bring his demon home and no one can fight him over it, yes sect leaders, he's perfectly sane, thank you.

Zhuzhi-lang learns that he's just as attracted to competence and beauty as Tianlang-jun, he just prefers his with a side of kindness rather than tsundere. He also finds it incredibly funny that everyone just... pointedly ignores his presence. A demon he may be, but their sect leader wanted him there, so there he would stay. The whole scenario brings to mind the forbidden romances his uncle loved to read about. As he settles in, watching Gongyi Xiao overhaul Huan Hua Palace and all its greedy rules, he thinks his uncle would want to see how this story ends.

AND THAT'S IT! My wrists hurt and i accidentally posted before it was done, lmao, but yeah. Feel free to write this, I feel like I'd start it and never finish lol

#mushang #liushen #mobing #gongzhi #svsss #mxtx #mxtx svsss #mu qingfang #shang qinghua #liu qingge #shen qingqiu #mobei jun #luo binghe #gongyi xiao #zhuzhi lang

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quirrrky · 1 year ago

Text

. : ･ﾟ✦ ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIS

KUROO, BOKUTO, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI; when you thought your love for them was unrequited, but is it really?

≡ NOTES ⋮ Oikawa's hits different on this one 🥺

KUROO

"Looks good," Kuroo commented over your shoulder—his cheek just a mere few inches from yours. "Nice work as usual, Y/N."

You refused to look at him directly. At least, not this close. Everything about Kuroo was just admirable. He excelled at work, got along with everyone and bore looks that always fit his business attire. Aside from that, you never knew anyone who understood you in the way he did. But you're just colleagues. You knew it was only that for him.

"Are you free tonight?" He pulled back and asked. Finally, you could gaze back at him.

"I have nothing else to do and it's weekend tomorrow. I can spare some time. Is there something I need to revise?"

He placed his hands on his hips. "This is why you're single, Y/N," he sighed. "Go on a date! I know someone. I think you'll like him alot. I could set you two up later."

You forced a smile. Kuroo had been consistent in setting you up with some other guys. It hurt everytime, because you're not interested in them, you wanted him instead. You liked Kuroo a little more than you should and it's hopeless. You were hopeless.

"Fine," you surrendered. Just to put an end to this. You couldn't be hurting everytime he'd ask you to meet someone else for a date.

Evening came and you walked to the meeting place, still trying to accept the reality that Kuroo never liked you in the same way. After all, he asked you to date some other guy and it was totally cool for him to let you be with someone else.

"Y/N!" Kuroo called as he approached you.

"Oh, Kuroo..." You greeted a little melancholic then you looked behind him and around you, "Your friend? Is he....already here?"

"Friend?" He narrowed his eyes. "What friend?"

You tilted your head in puzzlement. "You told me that you'd set me up on a date with someone."

"Yes, I did. But Y/N..." He said, leaning forward and casting a mischievous smirk. "... that someone is me."

You were baffled still couldn't believe that he liked you back.

Kuroo could see the disbelief and joy in your eyes. God, he'd been wanting for things to come to this for so long. Finally, your eyes locked and he inched closer. His lips captured yours in an all-consuming kiss that got you gasping when he pulled your body against his. You felt weak in the knees that you didn't want it to end.

Slowly, he pulled away still pinning your gaze while you were left wanting for more.

"I told you," he whispered to you, closely. "You'll like him alot." He playfully grinned.

And though you wanted to give him a lighthearted slap you couldn't deny that yes, you like him a lot.

BOKUTO

Confident that his team would win, you immediately ran towards Bokuto. A grin widely spread on your face as you went towards the hallway on your way to meet him before he head over to the lockers. Turning to the corner, however you saw him kissing a girl. She was tiptoed with eyes closed as she had his face cradled in her hands.

It crushed you.

Tears instantly pooled at the corners of your eyes and your instinct pushed you to turn back and run away. You were so much in a haste that you bumped into Akaashi without even noticing.

All this time you held affection for your best friend. You never knew that a day would come when you’d feel so much more for him. You tried to fight back the feeling but it turned out unsuccessful like always. Maybe a sliver hope remained in you because you never saw him with someones else until now.

Maybe this was the sign to let go.

You sat at the bench of a bus stop and hugged your bag firmly as tears began to trickle down your cheeks involuntarily. It’s so stupid! Why’re you crying?

“Y/N!” You heard Bokuto’s voice called out to you. His tone, laced with urgency and worry. He sat beside you you and draped an arm across your shoulders. “What’s it? What’s wrong? Akaashi told me you don’t look alright. Hey, Y/N…Are you…are you crying?” You could definitely hear his sad face from his voice.

You just shook your head refusing to look his face. You knew. You knew you couldn’t afford to face him like this.

“Hey, Y/N…answer me.” He begged as he leaned his head against yours like a puppy. “Why’re you crying? What’s wrong? Did I do somethin’? Please tell me. Are you mad at me?”

Still, you’re resisting until he cupped your face and made you look at him. “Hey, hey... you know I love you, right?”

Hearing those words yet you knew it meant different for you teared up caved in and said, “We can’t be friends anymore.”

“But why?” He asked with a pout.

You gripped your bag, mustering all the courage you could. “Because…Because I can’t take seeing you with some other girl.”

“What do you mean?” Bokuto paused for a brief moment, tilting his head while trying to figure things out.

“I saw you….kissing-“

”Oh that! I don’t even know her name. She just suddenly went in for it.” He explained and rubbed the back of his head. “Geez…Y/N if I’d kiss someone, it would rather be you.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “H-Huh?”

”Well, yeah…I’ve always been wantin' to kiss you.” Bokuto leaned his face close to yours. “Do you…”

“Do I...?”

“Do you wanna kiss me too?” He asked and you blushed. One moment you were crying and now your heart was pounding loud.

“I…” You trailed off as got lost in his pleading gaze. Your eyes lulled close and soon you felt his lips soft against yours. It was sweet, slow and magical that when he pulled away you breathlessly muttered, “I love you.”

Bokuto beamed with eyes like he was about to cry out of joy, “I can’t believe it. You finally say it back.”

OIKAWA

It was dumb for a wallflower like you to even believe that Oikawa Tooru, everyone’s dream in your campus, would fall in love with you. It started when he would casually talk to you along the hallway.

Eventually, you became classmates and he would sneak from his volleyball practices just to bother you as you studied alone in an empty room after class. Then, he would join you during lunch from time to time and would give you a packet of his favorite milk bun sometimes.

You felt special. He’s the only person who made you feel seen. He made you feel like you existed. While others chose to pass you by, he would stop in his tracks to greet you. You could still recall the melodious way he’d call your name. Y/N-chan! You anticipated his casual visits to you everytime. It was like the best part of your day.

There’s always a little smile reserved just for him. That kind of smile he said he loved seeing. You loved Oikawa Tooru, but to think a mere peasant like you would be noticed by a prince, it was all a mistake.

There were rumors about him pursuing some other girl. You thought it was just a rumor until they ended up together. You’re such a fool for believing in fairytales. Gradually, you drew a distance between you. You’re no longer receptive of charms or, at least, you showed you weren’t. Next thing you knew he flew to Buenos Aires and he was all a fairytale.

Years passed and you didn’t know how you end up visiting your campus again. Memories of him flashed back and a bitter smile appeared on your face. You still thanked him for everything, because even just for a year, you felt important. He showed you how valuable you were and how much you needed validation, consequently realizing that the appreciation that would make you whole was not from him, but from yourself.

You would never forget him, though, for showing you what a fairytale looked like even just for a moment in time.

“Y/N-chan!” A familiar voice called out and you found him...Oikawa....He’d grown a lot now. Wrinkles on the side of his eyes and shoulders broader than the last time you recalled. “Have you...forgotten about me?” He asked, sounding sad.

“How can I?” You replied.

“Yeah, I guess. I was pretty memorable back then, huh?” He rubbed the back of his head. “I...I haven’t forgotten you though.”

You gulped. Why do you still feel happy? “Really?” You asked. “You have a lot swarming around you. I’m pretty sure I’m forgettable.”

How could he forget you? How could he forget the one who looked past his recognition and physical appearance? You listened to him tirelessly about volleyball without complaining. You were invested in him when he showed his vulnerabilities. You didn’t run away in times you couldn’t understand him anymore.

You were perfect. In fact, too perfect for him. He knew back then that all he had in his immature brain was to reach for his dreams. He didn’t want to hurt you like how he did others because he’s not free to invest time. Next thing he knew you slowly slipped away from him and you were just his fairytale.

“How could I forget you?” He smiled, bitterly. “My Y/N-chan with the beautiful smile.”

You both chuckled. The ache of the past memories was being purged out. Somehow, it’s such a relief.

He extended his hand and you meekly took it.

“Tooru, please call me Tooru now.” And maybe this time things would work out the way it should’ve been.

IWAIZUMI

You basically grew up together. He was your brother’s best friend and he’d always hang out with him and had sleepovers in your home. They would usually join you as they played. Sometimes, they played as your princes, winning over who could save you from the daunting aliens.

But Hajime was always your prince.

Even when you were little, you dreamt of marrying him. It was all just a childish dream back then, but as you grew older, it was nothing sort of childish anymore. You could never imagine anyone else to be with for life other than him.

However, when your Tooru-nii began living in Argentina, Hajime went back to replace his role over you. To be your brother.

“I don’t like that guy for you, Y/N.” He said, after informing him of the blind date you'd be attending after work.

“Why do you care so much?” Why was he acting this way? Why do you always take care of me? He didn’t have to do that. Stop making me fall in love with you! 

“Because your brother is away and no one here’s gonna look after you!”

“You’re not my brother! So stop acting like one!” You answered back, not looking back as you walked out the door. 

The night fell and your date was still not showing up. Maybe the guy saw you but was not interested. Maybe Hajime was right. You hated it when he’s right, because you knew he was. You knew that there couldn’t be anyone more right for you than him, but it was all so wrong because you’re just a little sister for him.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and immediately looked. Your hope subsided.

“You dropped your handkerchief,” the stranger said.

You knelt and picked the item up. As you stood back up again, you were surprised to see Hajime in front of you.

You felt relief and an undeniable sting inside. You could never get over him. You knew that for sure.

“Let’s go home,” he said, and you earnestly refused no longer capable to bear any hope for him.

“I’ll pass for now. I’ll walk home”

“Y/N, it’s late now-”

“I know. I know,” you dismissively and mockingly said. “It’s not safe and my brother isn’t around so no one’s here to protect me, but you because I’m like a little sister to you right? A little si-”

Your eyes widened as he stopped you from babbling with his lips on yours. Both od his hands cupped your cheeks as he kissed you passionately like it’s something he’d been wanting to do for so long. He parted with the both of you catching your breaths.

“You’re right I’m not your brother, and I never wanted to be.”

#kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo scenarios #oikawa scenarios #oikawa drabble #bokuto fluff #bokuto scenarios #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu x reader

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stillness-in-green · 28 days ago

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Some thoughts on The Discourse about the last BNHA cover

(Note: This Discourse was on Twitter. I don’t know how much of this may have been said here on Tumblr, so consider this either my contribution or just me reporting back on drama from other fronts.)

So, I saw a lot of back and forth over there between people who didn’t like the cover and people who did, and I spent a little while mulling it over. It seemed to me that the people who didn’t like it had a good point, but one they were not articulating particularly well, possibly thanks to the character limit and possibly also because the people talking about it tended to phrase their objections in sarcastic, consciously exaggerated terms because that’s the language months and months of dealing with the truly insufferable Horikoshi Defense Squad on Twitter primed them to use.

So what is the point? Basically this: In going for the lazy/easy callback in both the cover design and Dai (plate-hair kid)'s role in the final chapter more generally, Horikoshi landed on an "everything comes full circle" ending when what the story desperately needed was an indicator of change.

We didn't need to know that a kid with low self-confidence and nothing to speak of in the quirk department can still become a Pro Hero if he[1] wants to. We already knew that because it's what the whole story of BNHA was about! Deku passing the torch/paying it forward is nice if all you care about is Deku's personal arc, but it's sheer reductiveness if you care about literally anything else. If there was going to be a kid getting Deku's encouragement and help at the end, if that's the ending Hori was absolutely set on, it shouldn't have been the Deku Redux kid; it shouldn't have been the weak kid who has already been metaphorically proven capable of becoming a Hero.

1: And of course it would be a boy.

It should have been the troubled kid, the one from the bad family situation, the one who isn't sure whether he even believes in this Hero thing. It should have been the kid who, if nothing about Hero Society had changed, would’ve been rejected by the whole corrupt system—in so many words, the Tenko Redux kid. That's the one who we saw could not become a Hero under the previous system. That's who we needed to demonstrate the system's improvement.

Instead, all we get is Deku helping himself. And it fits, I guess, because “himself” is the only sort of person Deku ever wanted to save anyway—remember that in the very first chapter, Deku tells All Might that he wants to be a Hero because he was never “saved” as a kid and so he thinks saving is the coolest thing ever. Implicitly, then, Deku wanted to be the kind of Hero who could have saved the kid he was, and that tendency to reserve his compassion for people he can recognize himself in—the crying children and the Hero wannabes—is consistent throughout the series. Dai, then, simply becomes the very last of these examples, the chance for Deku to tell his middle school self that he, too, can be a great Hero.

And that’s quite a choice, isn’t it? Take a second to consider the implications there. The metaphorical parallel Deku helps is his middle school self, not his childhood self—there’s no evidence that Dai was bullied on the same level young Izuku was, and we sure didn’t see anyone telling him to jump off a roof. So, who does save those children, then, in this grand, improved version of Hero Society? Does anyone?

Well, not really. Not that we’re shown. Indeed, the child who was the closest analogue to young Izuku—a weak and seemingly quirkless boy who stuck his neck out for other rejected children, who still stubbornly wanted to be a Hero despite a parent's disapproval—was Tenko, and Deku pointedly did not save him.

To be clear, I don’t mean that just in the sense that Deku failed to save the adult Tenko became, but even in the emotional sense that the series clearly wants me to believe Deku succeeded at, the saving of the boy's heart? I don’t think Deku even managed that. Sure, he might have protected the echo of that child from a few memories, might have held his hands for a few exchanges of dialogue, but then the boy transformed back into the form of the Villain he'd become and was swallowed down the spiritual maw of the man from whom society failed to save Tenko to begin with! And what was Deku doing as this happened? Absolutely nothing but yelling impotently as he got blown backward and out of the mindscape.

Imagine that Deku had found some way to cheer up Izumi Kouta only for Muscular to kill the kid thirty seconds later. No one would be saying, “I think Deku still saved him—his heart, anyway,” if Deku got Kouta to smile and admit that Heroes were actually pretty cool only to do nothing but scream helplessly as he watched Muscular pulverize Kouta’s ribcage with one gentle squeeze.[2]

2: Mind you, this comparison is flawed! Unlike AFO’s vestige, Muscular doesn’t turn up to kill a child as a direct result of Deku’s own actions. Also unlike the events of the final battle, Deku doesn't jump up and personally administer the killing blow to the still-screaming victim, either.

It just leaves me thinking about some of the stuff @codenamesazanka has said about how the narrative treats Shigaraki and Deku helping him: not as something Deku has a duty to do, not something Hero Society on the whole owes Shigaraki (and all the other metaphorical expy/future Shigarakis), but rather a bonus, a nice extra, a demonstration to shine up Deku's Hero cred because he's making efforts no one else would bother with and that no one would reasonably expect him to make. It's not Deku’s job to save the Tenkos or the young Izukus of the world; apparently that just falls to society at large.

So then, what was the point of making Tenko/Tomura such an extreme case of someone who started in a similar place to Deku? Why make him, also, a weak kid who was told he couldn't be a Hero, if you're not going to have Deku save him in the way no one saved Deku himself?

From where I'm sitting, the answer is, "It seemed like a good idea to Horikoshi at the time, but proved to be poorly thought out." But if Deku failing to save his own closest childhood analogue was where the story was going the whole time, then Shigaraki should never have been used to parallel Deku to begin with. It's just a damned waste of Shigaraki as a character, an insult to everything he represented, to use him for ~the parallels~ throughout the entirety of the story except the very beginning and the very end.

Anyway, Pro Heroes are bullshit and the ending should have been them being radically reconceived from the ground up with input from all the people they failed to save. But again, if you have to still have Heroes-qua-Heroes at the end, and you have to have some stupid thematic echo because you as an author think callbacks are the single most compelling storytelling tool of all time, then everything we got on Dai should have been for Scissors-kun instead, and here I am very much including Dai's scene before the first war. An unsettling scene of a strange child with his mouth sewn shut, stuck in a straitjacket in a dark room should have been the last thing we saw before launching into the day of the raids, an apparent element for the future in the same way that so many future Villains were first shown in the wake of Stain's arrest.

See, Shigaraki’s own destructiveness is what ultimately frees Scissors-kun from the basement, “saving” this rejected, abused child in a way no Hero ever managed or even knew to try, just as Shigaraki brought light and a strange sort of hope to the lives of so many others whom Heroes failed. However, Shigaraki couldn't carry his ambitions through to the end. He was never able to meet the kid he indirectly saved, never able to offer that appallingly abused victim an avenue for his signature brand of rough justice. Heroes stopped him from doing so. So then, who will help Scissors-kun?

If we’re to believe that the story's protagonist has made a real difference, that Deku and his classmates have changed the world for the better, then we don't need to see them helping a kid who we already know is going to turn out fine because “he” aleady did. We need to see them help the people that previously only Villains would have helped, picking up the torch they struck from Shigaraki’s hands.

So sure, keep the scene with Granny Evil and Scissors-kun if you must, to show that it’s not only Heroes but also the broader Hero Society that’s changed. After that, though, show Deku stepping in. Show him taking an interest in this kid as a way to keep his promises—to Shigaraki, that the rejection and obliviousness that he sought to destroy have indeed been destroyed and will remain so, and to Spinner, that Deku will remember Shigaraki for the rest of his life.

When Deku is older and in a position to give advice to a kid who’s floundering and uncertain of what to do with his life because of what people around him say about him, make that character echo the characters the old system failed to save, not the character who the entire story proved would do just fine.

For god's sake, ditch Deku Redux.

Now, I know the obvious rejoinder here: We can’t use Deku’s story to say that BNHA already showed us that Dai would be fine because Dai has a quirk where Deku did not, therefore Deku’s path would not be open to Dai. To this, I would reply that neither Deku nor Dai specify that Dai wants/is able to be a top Hero, merely that he be the kind of Hero people can admire—which the story has also already proven true!

Ojiro got into UA with nothing but one (1) extra limb.

Manual has a perfectly middling quirk that turned out to be absolutely crucial in two different wars because it was the right quirk at the right time.

Wash’s quirk makes strong bubbles.

Like, this list is not short. Manifest Plates might or might not make Dai Hero Billboard material, but one of the major points of the endgame was the sublime and noble value of helping when you can, in the way that you can. So to reiterate, we didn’t need that to be proven again in the epilogue.

If anything, going the route of retreading the same story makes the epilogue much worse! Not only do we not get to see how this society is helping the people the old society most profoundly failed—victims who fall through the cracks and become Villains—but in seeing yet another a weak kid being mocked for his heroic aspirations, we find that we’ve barely moved a step beyond the exact same place we started.

That’s the message Horikoshi chose to go with, for both the closing chapters of the story and the story’s final volume cover. Truly, as art that summarizes the story goes, it’s a masterful choice! And that's the whole problem. The cover of Volume 42 is a perfect illustration of the self-absorbed, cynical, cyclical nature of BNHA's endgame. Little wonder, then, that it's hated by the same people who hated said endgame.

#bnha #bnha critical #green no. 2 #shigaraki tomura #bnha scissors-kun #more protag slander for the discerning palate #stillness has salt #bnha endgame

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hannie-roses · 2 months ago

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Love in the line of fire

Pairing: Seungmin x fem¡reader

Synopsis: Y/N never expected her quiet, life to be turned upside down by Seungmin, the most frustrating guy she’s ever met. With his sharp tongue, annoying sarcasm, and habit of always being right, Seungmin seems determined to get under her skin.The two can’t seem to spend a moment in each other’s presence without clashing. But as circumstances force them to work together with a shared project. Y/N begins to see seungmin in a different light. Beneath his biting remarks are moments of surprising vulnerability and kindness that confuse her a weird kindness. And maybe, just maybe, the reason she can’t stop thinking about him isn’t because she hates him — but because her heart is starting to betray her.

Genre: Romance, Enemies-to-Lovers, smut, hardcore degradation¡

Etc: Emotional growth, misunderstandings, vulnerability, and the fine line between love and hate. MINORS DNI

Word count: 15k

Y/N tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook, glancing toward the clock and praying for the lecture to end. Just as the professor launched into another tangent, the seat beside her creaked, and she didn’t have to look to know who it was. Seungmin. Of course. He always had a way of showing up when she least wanted him around. Without a word, he slid into the chair like he owned the place, tossing his bag to the floor with that same careless confidence she found maddening. “Still pretending to not care?” he muttered under his breath, barely glancing her way. Y/N exhaled through her nose, gripping her pen tighter. “Do you ever shut up?” she whispered sharply. Seungmin leaned back in his chair with a lazy shrug. “Not when you’re this fun to mess with.”

Seungmin’s grin didn’t waver, but his eyes darkened, sharp and unyielding. “Wow, someone’s feeling bold today,” he shot back smoothly. “Must be exhausting trying that hard to stay relevant when no one actually cares.” He leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to sting. “If you spent half as much effort on your grades as you do on these weak comebacks, maybe you wouldn’t be clinging to a B-minus like it’s a lifeline.” Y/N’s jaw clenched, but the smug glint in Seungmin’s eyes told her he knew exactly how deep he’d cut and that he was enjoying every second of it.

The collective groan from the class did nothing to calm Y/N’s nerves. She tapped her pen nervously on the desk, praying—please, not Seungmin. But, of course, life wasn’t that kind.

“Y/N and Seungmin,” the professor read aloud.

Her heart sank like a stone.

“No way,” Y/N muttered under her breath, but the professor’s sharp glance silenced any further protest.

“You two will coordinate where and when you meet,” he continued, oblivious to the glares she and Seungmin exchanged. “And given the size of the project, you’ll need a consistent place to work. Off-campus is probably best.”

Seungmin leaned over, grinning like a cat that just cornered a mouse. “Guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you for the next two weeks. Your place works, right?”

“No,” Y/N hissed, her voice low and tense.

“Unless you plan on coming over to my place every day, I suggest you rethink that,” Seungmin said smugly. “I have roommates, remember? Way too loud for serious work.”

“And you think I want you at my house?” Y/N shot back, her pulse pounding.

“Not really,” he replied, flashing a smirk. “But it’s that or fail. Your call.”

She clenched her jaw so tight it hurt. Before she could snap back, the professor interrupted. “Enough. Either work together, or get comfortable with an F.”

As the bell rang, Y/N grabbed her things and stormed out, but Seungmin followed right on her heels. “This’ll be fun,” he said, far too cheerful for her liking.

“Fun?” she spat. “The only fun part will be when these two weeks are over.”

“Aw, come on. It’s not that bad,” he teased. “Two weeks, your place, no distractions. What could go wrong?”

“Everything,” Y/N muttered, marching ahead—but Seungmin’s voice trailed after her, smug and infuriating as ever.

“Careful, Y/N. I might grow on you.”

She whipped around, glaring at him. “In your dreams, Seungmin.”

“Plenty of room for that in two weeks,” he said with a wink, leaving her fuming as he strolled off, whistling like this was all a game.

Y/N stared after him, heart pounding with frustration—and something else she wasn’t ready to name. Two weeks of Seungmin in her house? This was going to be a nightmare.

That evening, Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, hoping to find some miracle excuse to cancel this nightmare of a project. But just as she began to delude herself into thinking she could fake being sick for two weeks, her phone buzzed. A new message. From him.

Seungmin: Be there at 7. Try not to cry about it.

Her fingers twitched over the keyboard. She wanted to tell him to go to hell—or, better yet, to find a different partner—but the professor’s warning echoed in her mind: Failing. Forty percent. No excuses. With a growl of frustration, she threw her phone down and glared at the ceiling.

Her front door rang at exactly 7:00. Of course. Punctual and annoying, as always. She stomped to the door, wrenching it open to find Seungmin leaning against the frame, duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a grin plastered on his stupidly perfect face.

“You’re right on time,” Y/N muttered, arms crossed.

“Impressed?” he asked, stepping inside like he owned the place. “I aim to please.”

“No, you aim to annoy,” she shot back, closing the door a little harder than necessary.

“Close enough,” he said, kicking off his shoes and scanning her living room. “Cozy. I like it. So, where’s the workspace?”

“In the dining room,” she muttered, leading him to the table she had already set up with books, notebooks, and a few pens. “And keep your stuff over there. Don’t touch anything else.”

Seungmin dropped his duffel onto the floor with an exaggerated sigh. “Bossy, bossy. We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Yeah, can’t wait,” Y/N said flatly, flipping open the book they had to analyze. “Let’s get this over with.”

He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, leaning back with that smug expression she already hated. “So, what’s the plan, partner? Or are you just winging this?”

“We split it in half. I handle character analysis, you do themes,” she said without looking up.

“Yawn,” Seungmin responded, drumming his fingers on the table. “How about we both do everything? It’ll be easier if we bounce ideas off each other.”

“That’s your definition of ‘easier?’” she scoffed.

“Yup. I get to show off how much smarter I am. You get to keep up if you can.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “I swear, Seungmin, if you make one more cocky comment—”

He leaned forward, cutting her off with that same infuriating grin. “Relax, Y/N. You’ll survive. Probably.”

“Oh my God, I already regret this,” she groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

Seungmin pulled the book toward him, skimming the first page. “What are we working on first, genius?”

Y/N shot him a glare but decided to pick her battles. “Fine. We’ll start with the protagonist’s flaws.”

“Perfect,” he said, smirking as he tapped the book. “Flaws are my specialty.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah. That, I believe.”

For the next hour, they bickered over every minor detail—whether the protagonist’s decision was reckless or necessary, whether the author’s message was subtle or obvious. Every suggestion Y/N made, Seungmin found a way to challenge. Every time she pushed back, his smug grin only grew.

“You like being difficult, don’t you?” Y/N snapped after another argument about a minor character’s importance.

“Not my fault you’re wrong,” Seungmin replied, effortlessly flipping the page.

“You are unbearable,” she muttered, scribbling in her notebook with enough force to rip through the paper.

“And yet,” Seungmin said, not missing a beat, “here we are. Stuck together. For two whole weeks.”

Y/N glared at him, determined to ignore the little flicker of heat that surged in her chest. She hated him. Absolutely hated him.

So why was she starting to think that two weeks might not be long enough?

Seungmins POV:

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his sharp gaze locked on Y/N. She was hunched over her notebook, scribbling furiously like the fate of the world depended on it. And honestly? Watching her spiral into frustration was the most entertaining part of his day.

He twirled his pen between his fingers, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. There was something almost addictive about pushing Y/N—like winding up a spring just to see how far it would snap. Most people couldn’t keep up with him, but she gave as good as she got. And that? That was rare.

“So,” he said slowly, voice laced with mock interest, “are we really going to sit here and act like your little analysis makes any sense?”

Her pen stopped mid-sentence. She lifted her head, fixing him with that deadly, narrowed stare that said she was two seconds away from throwing the book at his face.

“You’re joking,” she said flatly, but the dangerous edge in her voice said otherwise.

He tilted his head, flashing her a grin that had irritated more people than he could count. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Y/N leaned back, arms crossed tightly over her chest, radiating annoyance. “If being insufferable were a career, you’d be CEO.”

He laughed, low and smug, as if her insult was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “If that’s the best you’ve got, these two weeks are going to drag.”

“They already are,” she shot back, the venom in her voice making his grin widen.

God, she made this too easy. The way she bristled at every word, as if her whole mission in life was to prove him wrong—it was almost impressive. Almost.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward just enough to make her shift uncomfortably. “We can sit here and argue all night if you want, but at the end of the day? I’m still going to be right. Might as well save yourself the trouble.”

Her jaw clenched so hard he could practically hear her grinding her teeth. “The only thing worse than working with you is that you actually believe you’re always right.”

“Not always,” he said with a cocky shrug. “Just when it matters.”

She let out a frustrated groan, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like an insult. He didn’t care—if anything, it only made his grin grow. He drummed his pen against the table, letting the rhythmic tap fill the tense silence. Two weeks. She’s stuck with me.

And the way she glared at him, as if every second spent in his presence was a personal offense? Yeah, this was going to be the most entertaining project of his life.

“Let’s just finish this,” she grumbled, flipping the book open with a huff.

“Oh no,” Seungmin said, settling into his chair with a lazy smirk. “This? We’re just getting started.”

Seungmin leaned his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hand, watching Y/N pretend he didn’t exist. Her pen scratched furiously across the page, her jaw tight with irritation. She was probably imagining setting him on fire. If looks could kill, he’d already be six feet under.

The thought made him grin.

This wasn’t just any school project—this was two weeks of uninterrupted, front-row tickets to every scowl, eye roll, and exasperated sigh she had in her arsenal. And for some reason, knowing he could irritate her with so little effort made the whole ordeal worth it.

But the silence between them was too tempting, too perfect to leave untouched. He tapped his pen on the edge of her notebook, just enough to make her pause. “So,” he said, voice light and teasing, “how long are you going to pretend that ignoring me will make me disappear?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with a mix of hatred and exhaustion. “If I concentrate hard enough, maybe the universe will do me a favor.”

He smirked, leaning closer until their faces were inches apart. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere. You, me, this project? We’re in it for the long haul.”

Seungmin could already feel the headache forming behind his eyes, and it had Y/N’s name written all over it. She sat across from him, muttering under her breath as she flipped through pages, acting like she could outwork him through sheer willpower. He watched her, amused, as she bit the inside of her cheek—her tell whenever she was pissed but trying to keep it together.

God, she’s so predictable. Every time she tried to ignore him, it was like dangling a challenge in front of him. And if there was one thing Seungmin didn’t do, it was let a challenge go unanswered. Two weeks. He had two whole weeks to get under her skin, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of it.

She thinks she can just steamroll me? Cute.

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the edge of the table, each little sound like a ticking bomb waiting to go off. Y/N’s eyes flicked toward his hand, then away, as if acknowledging him would only make it worse.

“Come on,” he thought, watching her squirm. Take the bait, Y/N. You know you want to.

And right on cue, she slammed her pen down with just enough force to make it bounce. “Can you not?” she snapped, her voice strained with that particular kind of irritation reserved just for him.

He grinned, enjoying the way her frustration simmered right beneath the surface, begging to spill over. She makes this too easy.

“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all. “Didn’t know focus was such a fragile thing for you.”

Y/N shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel. And just like that, there it was—that fire he knew all too well. The one that made this project more than just an annoying grade—it made it entertainment.

Admit it, Y/N. You love this game as much as I do.

“Look,” she said, her voice tight and clipped, “the sooner we finish this, the sooner we don’t have yo be around eachother.”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, pretending to think it over. “Tempting,” he said lazily, “but where’s the fun in that?”

She let out a breath, long and heavy, like she was two seconds away from strangling him. And for a split second, he wondered what it would feel like to really push her past her limit—what it would take to see her lose that tightly controlled composure completely.

Careful, Seungmin. Too far, and she’ll actually murder you.

Still, the idea made him smirk. “Two weeks,” he reminded her, voice low and smooth. “Better get comfortable. We’re just getting started.”

Y/N let out a frustrated groan, rubbing her temples like dealing with him was a full-time job. And Seungmin? He was loving every second of it.

This is going to be fun.

Day 5

Y/n POV:

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, chewing the inside of her cheek as Seungmin lounged across the floor of her room, flipping through his notes like he owned the place. She hated how comfortable he looked, leaning back against her bed frame, one leg stretched out, the other bent just enough to tap his stupid pen against his knee. Every movement he made was irritatingly relaxed, as if this project wasn’t suffocating her sanity more with each passing day.

It had been five days. Five long days of Seungmin’s sarcasm, smug smirks, and infuriating comments. Five days of biting her tongue to keep from losing it completely. She should’ve been ready to scream by now. Should’ve been counting down the hours until they could submit the project and be done with each other. And yet…

Her heart did this weird little flutter every time he smirked at her. And that was new.

She clutched her notebook a little tighter, glaring at it as if the page was responsible for the uncomfortable sensation growing in her chest. It made no sense. None. She hated him—or at least, she thought she did. So why, in the middle of an otherwise perfectly normal afternoon, did her heart stutter when he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair? Why did the sound of him quietly clearing his throat make her stomach twist?

This was bad. Really bad.

“You know,” Seungmin said, breaking the silence without even glancing at her, “if you keep frowning like that, your face might get stuck.”

Her head snapped up, ready to fire back, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, all she could focus on was the way his lips curved—just slightly, like he knew exactly how close she was to throwing something at him.

But instead of the familiar anger bubbling to the surface, something else stirred inside her. Something softer. Something that made her feel unsteady, like the floor wasn’t quite where it should be.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away, pretending to scribble down nonsense in her notebook. What the hell is wrong with me? This was Seungmin. Annoying, arrogant, thinks-he-knows-everything Seungmin. The same guy who had spent the last five days driving her to the edge of her patience. There was no logical reason for her chest to feel tight just because he was sitting a few feet away from her.

“Y/N?” His voice was smooth, with just the right amount of smugness to set her on edge. She hated how much she noticed that now. “You zoning out on me? Wow. Guess I’m more interesting than I thought.”

She clenched her jaw, willing the heat rising to her cheeks to go away. “In your dreams, Seungmin.”

He chuckled, and that stupid sound made her stomach flip. Oh my God. Get it together.

Forcing herself to stay composed, she scrawled something—anything—on the paper in front of her, just to avoid looking at him. But it didn’t help. She could still feel him there, his presence filling the room like he belonged.

And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of her didn’t mind it.

Day 5 – Later That Night

By the time the sun set, the air between them felt heavier. Y/N could still hear Seungmin’s voice echoing in her head, every sarcastic comment, every smug laugh lingering far longer than it should. She hated that he lived rent-free in her mind, yet here she was, sitting across from him in her own room, pretending she wasn’t hyper-aware of every time he breathed.

Seungmin stretched his legs out further, toes brushing her ankle beneath the table, and she jolted at the unexpected contact. It wasn’t like he kicked her—just a graze. Nothing. But it sent sparks racing up her leg. What the hell was that? She tucked her feet beneath her chair, desperate to create some distance between them, but the damage was already done.

No. Nope. Don’t do this, Y/N. You do not catch feelings for Seungmin.

He glanced up from his laptop, one eyebrow raised. “You okay over there? Or is this the part where you malfunction?”

She shot him a withering look, trying to smother the warmth rising to her cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But her voice lacked its usual bite, and Seungmin noticed. Of course, he noticed. That smug grin crept back onto his face, slow and deliberate, like he knew something she didn’t. And for the first time, she felt completely out of her depth.

“Relax,” he said, his voice low, almost playful. “I’m not that irresistible, you know.”

Her heart stuttered. The teasing in his voice was meant to annoy her—it was supposed to drive her crazy. But now, all it did was send her pulse racing. And the worst part? He could probably hear it.

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the crack forming in her composure. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he murmured, leaning back against her bedframe, “here we are.”

There was something dangerous about the way he looked at her then—like he wasn’t just trying to get under her skin anymore. No, this felt different. Like he was testing the waters, waiting to see what would happen if he pushed just a little further.

Y/N clenched her jaw, forcing herself to look anywhere but at him. But the silence between them had shifted. It wasn’t the usual battle of snarky comments and irritation—it felt thicker, heavier. Like tension wound too tight, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

And God help her, part of her wanted it to snap.

Seungmin cleared his throat, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. “We’re getting nowhere with this,” he said, closing his laptop with a soft click. “Let’s take a break.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What? Now?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry.” He stood, stretching his arms above his head, the hem of his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin.

Her gaze flickered—just for a second—and she cursed herself internally for even noticing. Get it together, Y/N.

“Come on,” he said, smirking as if he caught her looking. “You’ve gotta eat, too. Or is brooding your new diet plan?”

“I don’t brood,” she muttered, standing reluctantly.

“Sure you don’t.” He grabbed his jacket, slinging it over one shoulder. “You coming, or are you just gonna sit here and think about me all night?”

Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him, heat flooding her face.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re unbelievable.”

He shot her a wink—an actual wink—and headed for the door.

And against every ounce of logic and reason she had left, Y/N found herself following him.

What am I doing?

Later That Night – Y/N’s Thoughts

What the hell is wrong with me?

Y/N trailed a few steps behind Seungmin as they made their way down the dimly lit street. The cool night air kissed her skin, but it did nothing to chill the chaos swirling in her head. She was supposed to hate him—despise him with every fiber of her being. Yet here she was, walking next to the human equivalent of a headache, heart thumping against her ribs like it had no idea they were supposed to be enemies.

He’s a nightmare. A smug, know-it-all pain in the ass. I hate him. I do. I’ve always hated him. So why the hell do I keep looking at his stupid smile like it’s some kind of rare eclipse?

She risked a glance at him. He was walking easily beside her, hands stuffed into his pockets, his usual cocky energy radiating off him like he didn’t have a care in the world. The streetlights caught the angles of his jaw, and for one fleeting second, she wondered how someone so irritating could look so—

Nope. Nope. Abort mission. I did not just think that.

Her eyes shot forward again, face heating with the kind of embarrassment that felt physical. God, if there’s a hell, I deserve front-row seats for this.

Why did her heart do that annoying little flutter every time he so much as breathed in her direction? Why couldn’t she stop wondering what his hair would feel like if she ran her hands through it? And why—why—did it feel weirdly comfortable being next to him? Like maybe, if she wasn’t so busy hating him, she could—

No. No, no, no. This is Seungmin. Arrogant, rude, irritating Seungmin. You are not allowed to feel anything for him. You’re supposed to roll your eyes, not… not want to kiss him.

That thought hit her like a slap, and she nearly stumbled over her own feet. What the hell? No. No way. I did not just think that.

But now that the thought was there, it was impossible to unthink it. The idea of kissing him hovered at the edges of her mind, taunting her. And the worst part? Some small, deeply buried part of her didn’t hate it.

This can’t be happening. I’m losing it. It’s only been five days, and I’m already losing my damn mind.

Seungmin glanced back at her, his lips quirking up in a grin that made her stomach flip. “You good back there, or do I need to carry you?”

She shot him a glare that was half-hearted at best. There it is. That smug, cocky look that makes me want to throw him into traffic. So why does it also make my chest feel weird?

“Shut up,” she muttered, shoving her hands deeper into her jacket pockets.

He chuckled softly—just enough to make her pulse stutter—and turned back around, still leading the way.

Two weeks of this. Two whole weeks of being alone with him, stuck together in my room, breathing the same air. How am I supposed to survive that when five days already feel like this?

She bit the inside of her cheek, desperate to stop the thoughts before they spiraled further. But it was too late. They were there now, sitting in her mind like uninvited guests, whispering things she didn’t want to admit.

What if I don’t hate him as much as I thought?

And the scariest part? She wasn’t sure if she wanted the feelings to stop.

The quiet hum of the city filled the air around them, but all Y/N could focus on was the warmth radiating off Seungmin as they walked side by side. He’s infuriating, she thought, clenching her fists inside her pockets to keep from reaching out and shoving him—or worse, touching him. And yet, there’s something about him that’s so… captivating.

She could feel the weight of their proximity. With every step, the space between them felt charged, like the air before a storm. Each time he laughed at something that wasn’t even funny, her heart responded in ways that left her unsettled. Why was her body betraying her? It made no sense! I should be focused on the project. I should be annoyed! But instead, I’m caught up in this stupid, stupid distraction.

As they reached a small café, Y/N hesitated at the entrance, suddenly questioning everything. Why am I even here? Seungmin had a way of breaking down her defenses, and it terrified her.

“Are you coming or what?” he called over his shoulder, his voice laced with amusement.

Rolling her eyes, she followed him inside, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the sight of him ordering. He moved with an ease that made it seem like he belonged anywhere he went, and part of her resented how much she admired that. Why can’t I be as effortlessly cool?

“Your usual?” he asked, turning to face her, that mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah. I think I can manage to order for myself, thanks,” she shot back, crossing her arms defensively.

He shrugged, a playful smirk stretching across his lips. “Just checking. Wouldn’t want you to starve, especially since you seem to be so preoccupied with… whatever is going on in that head of yours.”

Ugh. Why does he have to be so infuriatingly perceptive?

The barista called their names, and they took their drinks to a small table outside, the cool breeze playing with her hair as she sat down. Seungmin leaned back, eyes scanning the street as if he owned it. He’s so casual, so sure of himself. What is it about him?

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked suddenly, snapping her from her reverie.

She was taken aback, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m just bored.” His nonchalance was maddening. “And besides, it’s either that or watch you brood.”

Brood? She was not brooding! But she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. She was on the verge of an emotional meltdown, and he was somehow the cause. How was that even fair?

“Fine,” she said, voice tight. “I was just wondering why you’re so annoyingly confident all the time.”

His eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face before he laughed. “Annoyingly confident? I like that. But seriously, why wouldn’t I be? Life’s too short to spend it pretending you don’t matter.”

His words hung in the air, and Y/N found herself searching his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity. But there was none. He looked genuine—almost earnest. It made her heart race again, this time with something she didn’t want to name.

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered, leaning forward. “How can you just… be so open? You act like everything’s a joke.”

“Because it is,” he said simply, a grin playing on his lips. “What’s the point of taking life too seriously? All it does is stress you out.”

So easy for you to say, she thought bitterly, but she couldn’t help but be intrigued. Maybe there was something to his carefree attitude. It was like he found joy in the chaos, while she was stuck in her own head, overthinking every little detail.

“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy,” she said, a challenge lacing her voice. “What do you do when things get tough?”

Seungmin’s expression shifted, a brief flash of something deeper crossing his face. “You adapt. You find a way to make it work. Or you move on. It’s that simple.”

For a moment, Y/N felt her defenses wavering. There was something in his tone, a raw honesty that made her want to lean in closer. But before she could respond, he shifted topics, breaking the tension. “But enough about my wisdom—I need to know what’s going on in that frowning little head of yours.”

“Nothing,” she insisted, her heart racing as she tried to deflect. “I’m just thinking about the project.”

“Sure you are,” he said, teasingly rolling his eyes. “You know, I can see through your lies.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, frustration mixing with an unexpected thrill. “You really think you know me that well?”

“I’m getting there,” he replied, leaning back in his chair, that smug grin returning. “Just give it time.”

Why does that make my heart race?

With every teasing remark and playful jab, Y/N found herself drawn deeper into the tangled web of their strange relationship. This back-and-forth was exhausting, but exhilarating. She wanted to fight it. She wanted to shove it down, to pretend it didn’t exist. But the longer they spent together, the harder it became to ignore the spark that crackled between them.

What if he was right? What if life really was too short to overthink everything?

And just like that, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle overhead, Y/N realized she had a choice to make: keep pushing him away or lean into the storm brewing between them.

Day 7 – Seungmin’s POV

Seven days in and I was beginning to wonder if hell had frozen over. It was day seven of the project, and Y/N still acted like she wanted to rip my head off, but I could sense a shift in the atmosphere. Maybe it was the way her eyes lingered on me a fraction too long, or how her lips curved into an involuntary smile whenever I cracked one of my usual jokes. It was infuriating, really. The more I tried to get under her skin, the more she seemed to react in ways that made my heart race—and not just because she was a walking tornado of annoyance.

Today was supposed to be just another tedious afternoon spent holed up in her room, but there was something different in the air. She paced back and forth, hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall, the tension in her body nearly palpable. Every step she took seemed to echo in my mind, pulling my focus back to her time and again.

I was supposed to be working on our project, but all I could think about was how those jeans hugged her hips just right. How her eyes sparkled with fire whenever I teased her, and how her laughter, despite all my efforts to annoy her, could cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and I was the one holding the match.

“Seungmin, can you focus for once?” she snapped, breaking through my thoughts.

I looked up, feigning innocence. “I am focused. Just contemplating the complexities of our groundbreaking project.”

She rolled her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “Right. Because this is groundbreaking.”

And there it was—that irritation that ignited something primal in me. The way her eyebrows knitted together, the tilt of her head. It was infuriating how even when she was pissed, I found her captivating. I hated that I was starting to notice her like this. I hated that I wanted to tease her, push her buttons, and yet I felt drawn in, as if she were a magnet and I was the metal.

“Are you going to stand there all day, or are we going to get something done?” She snapped, the sharpness in her voice only amplifying the warmth pooling in my gut.

“Patience is a virtue, you know,” I shot back, leaning back in my chair, trying to keep my posture relaxed. But the truth was, I felt anything but relaxed. Her frustration was electric, and each moment she spent within my orbit pulled me in deeper.

But it wasn’t just the banter that got to me. No, it was the way my body betrayed me in her presence. The moment she turned to walk back to her desk, I caught a glimpse of the curve of her waist and—damn it—my thoughts spiraled into inappropriate territory. It was like flipping a switch. All of a sudden, my body responded without my permission, a heat rising that I couldn’t ignore.

What the hell?

“Seungmin?”

Her voice pulled me back to reality. I glanced up, trying to hide the evidence of my body’s traitorous response. Act normal. Act cool. “What?” I snapped, perhaps a bit too harshly, but I needed to redirect this energy before it became too obvious.

“I asked if you could stop daydreaming for five minutes and help me with this section,” she said, exasperation lacing her tone.

“Yeah, sure. Just give me a sec.” I leaned forward, attempting to distract myself with the notes sprawled on the table, but my mind was still clouded with thoughts of her. Just focus on the project, Seungmin. You can’t afford to think about her like that.

As she leaned over the table to highlight a point, my breath hitched. The way she focused, the determination in her eyes—it made my heart race for all the wrong reasons. I tried to swallow, but it felt like there was a knot lodged in my throat. I was painfully aware of how close she was, the faint scent of her shampoo weaving around me, intoxicating and maddening all at once.

“Did you hear a word I said?” she asked, her voice pulling me back to reality once more.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, feigning confidence. “You were talking about… um… that thing. The thing we need to figure out.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. “Right. Because that totally helps.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Hey, I’m just here for the moral support.”

“Your moral support is useless,” she shot back, the heat in her gaze making it harder to ignore the tension simmering beneath the surface.

And just like that, I felt it again. The pull, the longing, and the undeniable physical reaction that threatened to break through my facade. Damn it. I shifted in my seat, desperately trying to find a distraction.

“Maybe you should get your head out of the clouds,” she said, her voice tinged with that familiar frustration. But even as she scolded me, there was something else there—a hint of something softer that I couldn’t quite place.

What is this?

I leaned back, arms crossed, trying to maintain a façade of indifference. “I’m just saying, I’m here for you. Someone has to keep you grounded.”

“Grounded? Please,” she scoffed, but her eyes flickered with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. “You’re just as much of a distraction.”

A cocky grin crept onto my face. “I prefer to think of myself as motivational.”

We stared at each other, the banter charged with a tension that buzzed between us, electric and full of unspoken words. I could feel the walls we’d built crumbling, piece by piece, and it terrified me. What was happening?

I cleared my throat, forcing my gaze to the notes sprawled on the table. “Let’s just finish this before I—”

“Before you what? Lose your mind?” she teased, and I caught a glimpse of that fierce spark I’d grown to love.

“Before I have to deal with whatever this is,” I muttered, motioning vaguely between us.

Y/N’s expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flashing across her features. “What do you mean?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because if I did, I’d have to admit that there was something building between us that felt dangerously close to something more than just a rivalry. And that was a risk I wasn’t ready to take.

“Just—let’s focus on the project,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

But the tension remained, lingering in the air, and I knew that as much as I tried to bury it, the line between hate and something deeper was getting blurrier with every moment spent together. And the worst part? I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep it buried any longer.

Day 12 – Y/N's House

It had started off normal enough. They had found a rhythm by now-working through the project with sharp jabs, teasing remarks, and just enough cooperation to keep things civil. For once, it seemed like they might get through the day without an argument. Y/N sat cross- legged on her bed, flipping through their notes, while Seungmin leaned against her desk, scrolling on his laptop.

"Look, if we just divide this section evenly, we'll be done faster," Y/N said, not even looking up.

Seungmin gave a small snort, the corner of his mouth tugging into that familiar smirk. "You mean I do the real work while you fill in the blanks?"

She shot him a glare. "I'm contributing just as much as you."

"Oh, is that what we're calling it?" he teased, closing his laptop with a soft click. "Because it looks to me like you're slacking.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I swear, you’re impossible.”

He chuckled under his breath and took a step closer, that cocky gleam in his eyes. It wasn’t new—this back-and-forth had become their routine. But today, something about the air between them felt heavier, crackling with unspoken tension.

She stood to put the notes back on her desk, brushing past him without a second thought. That was her first mistake.

The second was not expecting the sudden shift.

Before she could react, Seungmin’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. In one fluid motion, he pinned her against the wall, his body pressing into hers, close enough that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

The breath rushed out of her lungs as her back hit the cool surface. “What the hell, Seungmin?” she gasped, but her voice was shaky—betraying the strange rush of excitement blooming in her chest.

His gaze locked onto hers, darker than usual, and she could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’ve had just about enough of you driving me crazy,” he muttered, voice low and rough, as if the words had been building inside him for days.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and suddenly, the small space between them felt too hot, too overwhelming. “You’re insane,” she whispered, but there was no bite to her words.

“Maybe.” His eyes flicked down to her lips, and for a moment, the world around them disappeared. It was just the two of them—this impossible tension pulling them closer, tighter.

She could feel his breath on her skin, the subtle graze of his fingers still wrapped around her wrist, and every nerve in her body screamed at her to push him away. But instead, she stayed frozen, trapped between the cold wall and the burning weight of him.

“Say you hate me,” he whispered, the words a challenge, a dare.

Y/N’s pulse thrummed wildly, her breath coming out shallow. “I—”

But the words never made it out.

Seungmin leaned in, closing the distance, his mouth brushing against hers—not quite a kiss, more like a warning. Her heart stuttered, and for a split second, she thought she might break apart from the sheer force of it.

And then, without thinking, she kissed him.

It was messy, urgent, like they were both trying to make sense of something they didn’t understand. His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, fingers digging into her skin as if anchoring himself. She grabbed at his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.

The kiss deepened, and everything else faded—every argument, every insult, every bitter word exchanged over the past few weeks. None of it mattered now. The only thing that mattered was the way he tasted—like something dangerous and addicting all at once.

He pressed her harder against the wall, a low growl escaping his throat as he tilted her head back, giving himself better access. His lips trailed along her jaw, down to the soft curve of her neck, and Y/N bit her lip to stifle the sound threatening to escape her.

“Seungmin…” Her voice was barely a whisper, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Say you hate me,” he murmured against her skin, the words more desperate this time.

“I hate you,” she breathed, but the way she clung to him told a different story entirely.

Seungmin’s laugh was low and breathless. “Liar.”

And then he kissed her again—harder, deeper, as if this was something they both knew they couldn’t take back.

Day 12 – Y/N’s House (Continued)

Y/N’s mind spun, and every rational thought slipped away as Seungmin kissed her like he’d been waiting years to do it. His hands gripped her waist tightly, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. She gasped against his mouth, her fingers tangled in his hair, and every time she tried to steady herself, his touch undid her all over again.

His lips dragged along her jaw, hot and relentless, down to the hollow of her throat. Her heart raced, each touch sending sparks through her, making it harder to tell where frustration ended and desire began. The words were already on the tip of her tongue—words that had been their lifeline, their defense against whatever this feeling was.

“I hate you,” she whispered, breathless, as his mouth brushed her collarbone.

Seungmin gave a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against her skin. “You’re really going to keep that up?” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement and something darker. His teeth grazed her neck, and she shivered.

“Yes,” she gasped, even as her hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips exploring the warm skin beneath. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he whispered, lips ghosting over hers again, teasingly light.

She hated how much she needed more—how her body leaned into him, desperate for the heat of his kiss, the weight of him pressing her against the wall. Every kiss, every touch felt like both a challenge and a surrender, and it was driving her insane.

He shifted, pinning her wrists above her head, and the action sent a dangerous thrill rushing through her. “You’re still so stubborn,” he said softly, his lips barely brushing her ear. “Even now, when you’re the one pulling me closer.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She could feel every inch of him against her—his body firm and hot, his breath ragged as he struggled to maintain control. But it was slipping, fast.

She kissed him again, rough and desperate, biting his bottom lip as if to punish him for being right. He groaned into her mouth, and the sound shot through her, making her knees weak.

“I hate you,” she whispered again between kisses, the words shaky, betraying how untrue they were.

“Sure you do,” Seungmin murmured, and there was a cocky grin in his voice now. His grip tightened slightly, his hips pressing into hers, and the friction made her gasp. “Say it all you want, Y/N. But we both know you don’t mean it.”

His words made her feel unsteady, vulnerable, and that only made her kiss him harder. Seungmin laughed into her mouth, low and wicked, clearly enjoying her frustration as much as the way her body responded to him.

“You can keep lying,” he whispered against her lips, “but I’m going to make you admit the truth eventually.”

Y/N’s breath came in short, shallow bursts. This was dangerous—whatever this was between them, it felt like playing with fire. But she didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not when everything about this felt so maddeningly, addictively right.

And Seungmin knew it too.

Seungmin’s breath was ragged, his self-control slipping by the second. The way Y/N kissed him—furious and needy—only made it worse. She wasn’t holding back, and neither was he. Every time she bit his lip or dragged her nails along his skin, it sent a jolt of heat straight through him.

This was bad. Very bad.

His hands slid down to her hips, gripping hard, as if holding on to her would somehow anchor him. But the moment her body shifted against his, brushing against him in just the right way, a curse slipped from his lips.

He tried to pull back—just an inch, just enough to breathe—but Y/N followed, pressing closer, as if daring him to lose control. Her scent, the soft warmth of her skin, the way she looked up at him with that defiant glint in her eye—it was all too much.

Focus. Don’t lose it. Don’t let her see.

But it was already happening. His body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his stomach, his pulse hammering as he became painfully aware of how close they were. And Y/N felt it too.

She stilled, her breath hitching, and her gaze flicked downward, the slightest hint of realization dawning in her eyes.

Seungmin clenched his jaw, a mix of frustration and desire tightening in his chest. He could already feel the smug comment forming on her tongue.

But she surprised him.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his, soft but deliberate.

It was infuriating how much those words—so empty, so obviously false—made him want her more. He leaned in, his voice low and rough. “Keep saying it,” he dared, his fingers digging into her hips. “See what happens.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, a wicked little smile playing on her lips. “I hate you,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, teasing, taunting.

Seungmin groaned, his forehead resting against hers as he fought to keep himself in check. The tension between them was unbearable, and every second he spent holding back only made him want to give in that much more.

She shifted again—just slightly, but enough to send another wave of heat through him—and he let out a shaky breath. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Y/N’s grin grew, sensing his struggle. “Good,” she whispered.

His hands gripped her tighter, his breath hot against her skin. He knew he should step away, cool off, regain control before things went too far. But the way she looked at him, daring him to do something about it, made it impossible to think straight.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice dark with unspoken intent. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“And you’re losing,” she shot back, her lips brushing his again, just enough to drive him wild.

Seungmin’s grip on her hips faltered, and in that moment, all his walls came crashing down.

Seungmin’s breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling as his fingers curled into the fabric of Y/N’s shirt. For a moment, he hesitated, as if waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked at him with a mix of defiance and something softer—something she wouldn’t dare say out loud.

His lips brushed against hers again, slower this time, as his hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt. Her skin felt warm under his touch, and the way she shivered made his pulse race. He tugged the fabric upward, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. It hit the floor in a forgotten heap.

Y/N leaned back against the wall, her eyes dark with something dangerously close to surrender. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Not entirely.

“Still hate me?” he whispered, his voice low and edged with amusement as his fingertips traced the curve of her waist.

“More than ever,” she shot back, though the breathlessness in her voice made it clear how thin her resolve had become.

Seungmin smirked, leaning in closer, his lips brushing the hollow of her throat. “Liar.” His hands wandered, slow and deliberate, as if teasing her—testing her patience.

Y/N clenched her jaw, determined not to give him the upper hand. But every touch, every kiss made it harder to think, harder to hold on to the walls she’d built between them.

When his fingers found the button of her jeans, her heart stuttered. He paused, giving her one last chance to stop this, to walk away. But instead of pushing him back, she reached up, her hands sliding through his hair, tugging him down into another kiss.

That was all the confirmation Seungmin needed. His lips curved into a grin against hers as he made quick work of the button and zipper, dragging the denim down her legs with a teasing slowness that made her squirm.

“You’re really bad at hating me,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, her hands tugging at his shirt in response. “And you talk way too much.”

He chuckled, the sound low and husky as he pulled off his own shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze swept over her, heated and unguarded, and for the first time, there was no hint of mockery in his expression. Just want. Raw and undeniable.

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of where hatred ended and desire began—or if there had ever been a difference at all.

Seungmin pushed Y/N against the wall, his body pressed tightly against hers. "You're so stubborn," he growled, his eyes burning with desire. "But I know you can't resist me."

Seungmin held her firmly in place. He began to kiss her neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire on her skin.

"I hate you," she said, but her voice was shaky and breathless. Seungmin chuckled against her skin. "No, you don't," he said, his voice low and husky. "You hate that you want me so badly."

He began to run his hands over her body, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them gently, eliciting a soft moan from Y/N.

"You're so responsive," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. "I love the way your body reacts to me."

He continued to tease her, his fingers tracing the curves of her body and finding all the spots that made her shiver with desire. Y/N tried to hold back, but she couldn't help but arch into his touch, craving more of his attention.

"You're mine," Seungmin said, his voice filled with possessiveness. "And I'm going to make you feel so good."

He lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her against the wall once again. He looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with lust and determination.

"Admit it," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Admit that you want me as much as I want you."

“Fine I want you..” she said barley above a whisper.

Seungmin's hands roamed over Y/N's body as he held her against the wall, his touch becoming more and more intense. He captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth hungrily.

Y/N responded eagerly, her body pressed tightly against his as she surrendered to the moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened.

Seungmin's hands slid down to her hips, gripping them tightly as he began to grind against her. Y/N moaned into the kiss, the friction between them sending waves of pleasure through her body.

"You're so wet for me," Seungmin growled, breaking the kiss to nibble on her earlobe. "I can feel it."

Y/N blushed at his words, but she couldn't deny the truth. She was completely aroused by him, and she wanted more.

Seungmin began to kiss his way down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he went. He reached her breasts and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue.

Y/N gasped and arched her back, her fingers tangling in Seungmin's hair as he continued to pleasure her. "Oh god," she moaned, her voice filled with need.

Seungmin continued to kiss and suck on Y/N's breasts, his hands roaming over her body as he did so. He could feel her growing more and more aroused, her body trembling with need.

He slid one hand down to her inner thigh, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her sensitive skin. Y/N gasped as he got closer and closer to her core, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"You're so wet," Seungmin said again, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to feel you."

He slid his hand between her legs, his fingers finding her slick folds. Y/N let out a low moan as he began to rub her clit in slow, teasing circles.

"Oh god, yes," she gasped, her head falling back against the wall. "More."

Seungmin grinned and began to move his fingers faster, applying more pressure to her clit.

I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, I will try again.

Seungmin continued to tease Y/N's clit, bringing her to the edge but not quite letting her come. She was panting and writhing against him, desperate for release.

"Please," she gasped, her voice filled with need. "I need more."

Seungmin grinned and slid his fingers inside her, curling them up to hit her g-spot. Y/N cried out, her body arching off the wall as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her.

"You're so tight," he growled, his eyes locked on hers. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He continued to finger her, his thumb rubbing her clit in time with his movements. Y/N was completely lost in the pleasure, her body aching for more.

Finally, Seungmin pulled his fingers out of her and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock just barely touching her.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Seungmin looked into Y/N's eyes, his gaze filled with desire and dominance. "You're mine," he said again, his voice possessive. "And I'm going to take you now."

With that, he pushed into her, filling her completely in one smooth thrust. Y/N gasped, her body stretching to accommodate his size.

"Oh god, you're so big," she moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Seungmin began to move, thrusting into her with a slow, steady rhythm. He was hitting all the right spots, and Y/N could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge again.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "I love the way you take my cock."

Y/N couldn't speak, she was too lost in the pleasure. All she could do was hold on to Seungmin as he fucked her against the wall, driving her wild with his powerful thrusts.

As Seungmin continued to thrust into Y/N, he couldn't help but notice the way she was looking at him. There was something different in her eyes, something he had never seen before.

It was a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and it made his heart skip a beat. He had always seen her as an enemy, someone he was constantly competing with and trying to one-up. But in this moment, as he held her in his arms and felt her body responding to his touch, he saw her in a new light.

He leaned in and kissed her, his lips claiming hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed him back.

For a moment, all the animosity between them was forgotten. In that moment, they were just two people lost in the heat of passion, driven by desire and a strange sense of connection.

Seungmin broke the kiss and looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and something else he couldn't quite name. "I hate you," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "But I also can't get enough of you."

Seungmin began to thrust into Y/N harder and faster, his hips snapping against hers with a bruising force. He could feel her body responding to his roughness, her moans growing louder and more desperate.

"You like it rough, don't you?" he growled in her ear, his voice low and commanding. "You like it when I take control and use you like this."

Y/N nodded, her eyes glazed over with pleasure. "Yes," she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love it when you're rough with me."

Seungmin chuckled and nipped at her earlobe. "You're such a little slut," he said, his words sending a shiver down her spine. "Begging for my cock like this. You're so pathetic."

Y/N moaned at his words, her body clenching around him. She loved it when he degraded her, it made her feel so dirty and used.

"Please," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I need more."

Seungmin smirked and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so that he could look into her eyes. "More what?" he asked, his voice dripping with dominance. "Tell me what you want."

Y/N looked up at Seungmin, her eyes filled with desire and submission. "I want you to use me," she said, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk. I want you to make me yours."

Seungmin's eyes darkened with lust at her words. He loved seeing her like this, so desperate and willing to submit to him.

"You're mine," he growled, his grip on her hair tightening. "And I'll do whatever I want with you. I'll use you until you're begging me to stop."

He began to pound into her harder than ever before, his hips slamming against hers with brutal force. Y/N cried out, her body shaking with pleasure as he fucked her mercilessly.

"You like that, don't you?" he panted, his breath hot against her ear. "You like it when I use your body like a toy. You're just a hole for me to fill, nothing more."

Seungmin continued to pound into Y/N, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he approached his own release. He could feel her body tensing up, signaling that she was close too.

"Come for me," he growled, his voice low and demanding. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

Y/N cried out as her orgasm washed over her, her body convulsing with pleasure. Seungmin followed shortly after, pulling out and spilling on her stomach.

They stayed like that for a moment, both panting and trembling from the intensity of their orgasms. Finally, Seungmin set her down on the ground, both of them still struggling to catch their breath.

He looked at her, his expression softening slightly. "You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and tenderness.

Day 13 – Y/N’s House

The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room. Y/N stirred, blinking against the brightness, and a flood of memories rushed back to her from the night before. She felt a rush of warmth at the thought of Seungmin, the way he had looked at her, the heat of his skin against hers. It was strange how everything felt different now, how a single night could shift the dynamics of their so-called “hate.”

Turning slightly, she found Seungmin still asleep beside her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For a moment, she just watched him, a mixture of confusion and warmth swirling in her chest. There was something almost peaceful about him, and it made her smile despite the chaos of emotions bubbling just beneath the surface.

But they had a project to finish, and the reality of their situation hit her like a splash of cold water. They were supposed to be working together, and time was running out. With a reluctant sigh, she slid out of bed, careful not to wake him.

As she gathered her clothes from the floor, her heart raced. The memory of last night—the heated kisses, the way they had shed their defenses—was fresh and vivid. It felt surreal to have crossed that line with him, yet a part of her felt exhilarated.

After getting dressed, Y/N made her way to the kitchen, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. She poured herself a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the space, grounding her in the present. How were they supposed to go back to the project after what had happened?

A soft voice broke her thoughts. “You’re up early.”

She turned to see Seungmin leaning against the doorframe, tousled hair and sleepy eyes. He looked relaxed, and the sight of him sent another rush of warmth through her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, trying to sound casual. “We have a project to finish, remember?”

Seungmin smirked, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “Right, the project. Not the best way to get things done, huh?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, her heart racing at his teasing tone. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

“Touché,” he replied, stepping closer. “So, what’s the plan? We can’t have another ‘distraction’ if we want to actually get this done.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between them suddenly palpable again. “Agreed. Let’s focus on the project—no more distractions.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, leaning against the counter, his gaze fixed on her. “But can you blame me? You’re hard to resist.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. This wasn’t just about the project anymore; they were navigating uncharted territory, and the stakes felt higher than ever.

“Fine,” she said, breaking the gaze to focus on the task at hand. “Let’s just get started.”

“Okay, but you have to admit this will be way more fun now,” he said, moving closer, his arm brushing against hers.

“Fun? You call this fun?” she challenged, raising an eyebrow but unable to suppress a smile.

Seungmin stepped back slightly, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I meant it. Working together now feels… different. Good different.”

The sincerity in his voice made her heart race again. Y/N swallowed hard, nodding as she felt the weight of his gaze. “Yeah, it does.”

With that unspoken agreement lingering in the air, they set to work, but the undercurrents of their new dynamic kept pulling them closer.

Day 15 – Y/N’s House final day working together

Two weeks had passed since their unexpected night together, and as they sat at Y/N’s dining table surrounded by textbooks, papers, and half-empty coffee mugs, something had shifted between them. The tension that once crackled in the air had begun to simmer down, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie that neither of them had anticipated.

“Okay, so if we present this section like this, it’ll really emphasize our main argument,” Y/N said, tapping her pen against the paper. She glanced up at Seungmin, who was leaning back in his chair with a contemplative look on his face.

“Yeah, that makes sense. But what if we add some visuals? You know, to make it more engaging?” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, a side of him that she was starting to appreciate more and more.

“Visuals?” She raised an eyebrow, pretending to be skeptical. “Look at you, getting all creative on me. Who knew you had it in you?”

“Don’t act surprised,” he shot back playfully. “I’m full of surprises.”

Y/N laughed, feeling the warmth of their easy banter wrap around them like a comforting blanket. The more they worked together, the more she found herself appreciating his sharp wit and unexpected insights. It was refreshing—almost intoxicating—in a way she hadn’t expected.

They spent the next hour flipping through articles and compiling their findings, the project taking shape as they built off each other’s ideas. The conversation flowed naturally, filled with light teasing and genuine laughter. It was a stark contrast to the arguments that had marked the beginning of their partnership.

“Okay, how about we meet up tomorrow to finalize everything?” Y/N suggested, leaning back in her chair. “I think we’re almost there.”

“Sure, but only if you promise to bring those cookies you made last week,” Seungmin replied, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Ugh, fine. But you have to promise not to eat them all before we even start working,” she shot back, shaking her head.

“I make no promises,” he teased, winking at her.

The playful banter felt effortless, and Y/N found herself savoring these moments more than she had anticipated. As they wrapped up their work for the day, Seungmin stood up, stretching his arms overhead.

“Wow, I didn’t think this project would actually turn out to be fun,” he admitted, looking at her with a genuine smile.

Y/N felt a flutter in her chest at the sight. “It’s not so bad when you stop being such a jerk.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if I’m naturally charming,” he replied, grinning as he leaned against the table, his proximity making her heart race.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Right, charming. Just don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he said, leaning in slightly. “But seriously, I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made her pause. The weight of their history—the arguments, the hatred that had once defined them—felt lighter in that moment. Maybe they were finally crossing into something new, something better.

“Me too,” Y/N replied softly, meeting his gaze. The air around them thickened with an unspoken understanding, a connection that went beyond their project.

As they cleaned up, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could turn this partnership into something even more meaningful. As Seungmin gathered his things, she couldn’t help but wonder where this new path might lead them.

A Few Months Later – A Cozy Coffee Shop

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped Y/N as she stepped into the quaint coffee shop nestled on the corner of their college campus. It was a chilly autumn afternoon, and the café was warm and inviting, filled with the soft hum of chatter and the clinking of cups. Y/N loved this place; it had become a regular hangout for her and Seungmin since their relationship had blossomed from a bickering partnership into something much more tender.

Today, the café was adorned with twinkling fairy lights and seasonal decorations, giving it a cozy ambiance that felt perfect for what was about to unfold. Y/N spotted Seungmin at their usual table by the window, engrossed in a book, his brow furrowed in concentration. A playful smile spread across her face as she approached him, his presence always stirring butterflies in her stomach.

“Hey, bookworm,” she teased, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the pages. “Found any good plots to steal for our own story?”

He looked up, his serious expression breaking into a grin. “Only the plot twist where I finally confess my undying love for you.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, laughter bubbling up in her chest. “Is that so? You might need a little more practice with that line.”

“Maybe I just need the right moment,” he replied, his eyes locking onto hers with a depth that made her pulse quicken.

They shared a comfortable silence for a moment, the warmth of their connection wrapping around them like a soft blanket. The weeks spent together had transformed their relationship from casual friends into something deeper, something thrilling. Y/N had come to cherish these moments—quiet, intimate, filled with laughter and lingering gazes.

As the barista approached with their drinks, Y/N could feel the electric tension hanging in the air, a palpable anticipation that hinted at something monumental about to happen. She took a sip of her caramel macchiato, savoring the sweet flavor as she watched Seungmin.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice steady but edged with nervous energy. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us lately.”

Her heart raced at the seriousness in his tone. “Yeah? What about us?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. “You know how we started off as rivals? Just two stubborn people who couldn’t stand each other?”

Y/N nodded, a soft chuckle escaping her lips at the memory of their fiery arguments. “I remember. You were insufferable.”

“True,” he admitted, smirking. “But it’s wild to think that after all the bickering, you became someone I can’t imagine my life without.”

Her breath caught in her throat, the weight of his words settling over her like a warm embrace. “Seungmin…”

“I’ve fought it for so long, thinking it would complicate everything,” he continued, his gaze never wavering. “But I can’t hide it anymore. I’ve fallen for you, Y/N. I want to be more than just partners or friends. I want to be with you, all of you.”

Y/N’s heart soared, an exhilarating mix of relief and joy flooding her senses. “You really mean that?” she asked, searching his eyes for sincerity.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his voice soft but resolute. “You make me want to be a better person, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

The warmth blossoming in her chest felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “I feel the same way. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

A wide smile spread across his face, the relief in his expression contagious. “So we’re really doing this?”

“Definitely,” she said, feeling the corners of her mouth lift in a smile that matched his.

Seungmin leaned in closer, their breaths mingling as he whispered, “Then how about we celebrate with a kiss?”

Y/N’s heart raced as she nodded, the thrill of anticipation coursing through her. Their lips met softly at first, a tentative exploration, but it quickly ignited into something deeper and more passionate. The world around them faded, the café’s warmth wrapping around them as they melted into each other, the kiss filled with everything they had held back until now.

When they finally pulled away, both breathless and smiling, the connection between them felt stronger than ever. “Wow,” Y/N breathed, her heart racing.

“Wow, indeed,” he echoed, his voice low and filled with emotion. “This feels right, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she agreed, feeling a rush of warmth. “I can’t believe we waited this long.”

Seungmin chuckled, his fingers brushing against hers as he held her gaze. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, I’m looking forward to all the moments we’re going to create together.”

As they sat in the cozy café, surrounded by the laughter of others, Y/N felt a sense of excitement for the future. The journey they had embarked on was just beginning, and the possibilities seemed endless.

“Let’s make a pact,” she said suddenly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “No more fighting, only adventures.”

“Deal,” he replied, a playful grin spreading across his face. “But I can’t promise I won’t challenge you to a debate or two.”

“Fine, but I’ll win every time,” Y/N countered, her heart light with laughter.

As the sun began to set outside, casting a warm glow through the café’s windows, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their story. With every laugh, every kiss, and every moment shared, they would write a tale that was uniquely theirs—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of many more memories to come.

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