#It's basically a song about a guy denying that he loves the person he has a crush on!! the way they use irony throughout the song is so djdd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

praisethegabs · 9 months

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HATE THAT I LOVE YOU

leon kennedy x f!reader

synopsis: Leon can't stand seeing you around him. You know how much he hates you and you like having fun with it. Things get worse when the two of you get lost during one mission, with no comms to call for help. Leon blames you for everything, until he revels something he shouldn't.

warnings: ENEMIES TO LOVERS. descriptions of injuries, reader taking care of leon, comfort, fake marriage, descriptions of nudity, leon drunk and and reader teasing him. small reference to call of duty characters as part of reader backstory.

word count: 10k +

a/n: heavily inspired by "death of me" by wizthemc. cover from laughingwallaby on x/twitter. it isn't necessary to listen to the song, but I highly recommend it.

"he’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her" senlinyu

Leon Kennedy hates you more than anything else in this world.

He hated the fact he was obligated to be your partner, hated the reckless way you always managed to finish a mission practically intact, and hated the way you always succeeded in something, no matter what it was. He hates you entirely, even your perfume is enough to get him on his nerves.

He hates you ten times more because he knows you know he hates you, and you seem like you don't care about it at all.

It all started three years ago, when he discovered he would be your new partner. Your name was pretty famous, and so were you. Not that he envies your success, but he never thought he would be under the shadow of someone like you. At first, Leon was very impressed with your skills and the way you work, but two weeks later, he started to despise you, and this feeling turned into hatred.

You ain’t stupid, you can even feel all the hate he has towards you, and things get better because you have this masochist side of yours that makes you feel happy seeing how angry he can be at you.

Although you don’t care about the reasons he hates you, the thing is, you can’t deny how attractive Leon can be, and having him as your partner makes every other agent jealous of how lucky you are. It’s Agent Kennedy, the one and only. The guy who rescued the president's daughter and basically did other significant things for the government.

But, despite the Leon you know at work, his entire life is a blank page. You know absolutely nothing about him, and he doesn’t care about sharing his personal life details with someone he hates. You noticed a while ago that you are the only person Leon ignores and despises completely, and he avoids talking to you as much as he can, only when it is necessary. And when he opens that pretty mouth of his, it usually contains hateful words.

At this point, you just do your job the way you see fit and come back home safely, not caring about Leon’s arrogant ass.

“You could have killed us!” Leon snaps at you, his entire demeanor showing stress. He can’t avoid grabbing you by your arm and squeezing it tightly, which makes you groan.

“Well, golden boy, at least your ass is intact and here. I’d like to hear a nice ‘thank you’, how about it?” You smirk and tilt your head, and in response, his entire face turns red with anger.

“You’re so fucking immature. Do you think you’ll be lucky for the rest of your life?” He raised his voice, his hand on your arm getting tighter by the second. The expression on your lips didn’t make things easier. “One day, you won’t be that lucky, and you’ll probably drop dead somewhere. I won’t be there to pick up your pieces. Do you want to risk your life? Go ahead, I don’t fucking care, but don’t drag me into your bullshit again. I’m your partner, not your babysitter”

“I’m really surprised you consider me your partner, Kennedy,” you smirk again, and that smirk was enough to infuriate Leon more than he already was.

Leon was on the verge of yelling at you, but the cold expression that quickly went up on his face was enough to make your smirk disappear. You have never seen him like that, it was weird.

“Maybe I should change that,” he hissed with cold and dead eyes, finally letting go of your arm.

“Good luck with that, Kennedy,” you coo, crossing your arms over your chest as you speak.

After saying that, the smile you gave him was enough to make Leon livid. He wanted so badly to take that ironic smile off of your lips, he wished that right now you were a man, so he could definitely teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget so soon. However, you are the same annoying opposite gender that he hates so much. So, instead of beating the living shit out of you, he just watched you leave, turning in the opposite direction to calm himself down before he did something stupid.

The last mission was very simple: locate and terminate a bioweapon. As you two went there to find the said bioweapon, the entire area was drowning in chaos. The area was isolated to prevent the bioweapon from running away, and alongside you and Leon, there was the entire squad ready to follow your lead.

It should be simple, right? Here's the part where Leon thinks you're completely reckless. Instead of following the standard protocol, you thought it would be best to use yourself as bait and literally explode the entire block. Your stupid plan really worked, and the bioweapon died in the explosion; luckily, you were left with a few scratches and a bleeding ear — which the doctor said wasn't something serious, although you would be “deaf” for a few days from your right side.

So, when you got home, the first thing you actually did was take a nap, which turned out to be deeper than you expected. You slept for twelve hours with your phone in airplane mode so that no one could disturb your sleep. The only thing you weren't counting on was waking up to the distant sounds of someone practically wanting to take your door down. Wearing your cat pajamas, your hair a complete mess, and your face swollen after so many hours sleeping, the last person you thought you would see was Leon.

And he was right there.

“Do you know I’m out of the clock at the moment, right?” you asked him, with a big yawn seconds later. His face wasn't one of the most friendly you've seen.

“Yeah? Do you think I’m here because I want it?” Leon rolls his eyes, sounding annoyed and bored.

“Well, golden boy, if you’re here to yell at me about what happened earlier, I suggest you wait until tomorrow. I’m definitely not in the mood for you,” you said, already closing the door, when Leon suddenly stopped you. “I always thought you were a weirdo, now I’m sure of it. What do you want?”

“Get ready for our new assignment. And try to dress in something more... elegant.” Leon gave you the file from the next mission. Surprised, you started to read the file, and out of nowhere, you started to laugh in disbelief.

“Recently married couple on their honeymoon? Is this some kind of sick joke?” You glanced at him, still laughing nervously at your new disguise with him.

“Trust me, I asked the same question, and unfortunately, that's our new disguise. So, get your ass ready. We’ll be leaving in three hours, Ms. Kennedy,” he said with his Stoic and cold expression as always, giving you a ring made of white gold, which made you think how expensive it was.

“I’m pretty sure our agency wouldn’t give us this type of accessory,” you said to him, taking a good look at the ring he gave you. White gold, with a beautiful sapphire and diamonds carved around the blue stone.

“Don’t be late,” Leon said, ignoring your last commentary. “I’ll be waiting at the airport”

Leon left without looking at your confused expression. You had to read the file at least three times until you finally understood the mission. Leon and you were going to pose as a recently married couple enjoying their honeymoon as you two investigate a famous billionaire that made its own wealth by selling bioweapons in the market. You sighed with the sudden stress, walking towards your room to prepare your bag. After finishing your bag, you caught yourself glancing again at the ring. You were sure the agency wouldn’t give this ring to Leon for a fake marriage. It was something else, but what?

So, one hour later, you drove to the airport. At least this time, you weren’t late, and Leon wouldn’t be making a scene over it. You found him distracted, wearing sunglasses with his leather jacket, his hair shining in the sunlight. Leon seemed very focused on the book he was reading, and it was a big surprise to see him like that, especially because you knew nothing about him.

“So, dear husband, are you ready to go?” you ask, seeing him put his book aside. He looked very beautiful with those sunglasses.

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, his voice sounding calm instead of the coldness you were used to. You noticed he was wearing his own wedding ring.

“Will you tell me where these came from?” You started to walk next to him, referring yourself to the ring he gave you, hoping it would be a real answer.

“Why do you care? It’s just a ring,” Leon replied, avoiding the subject as much as he could.

“I don’t think it’s just a ring. It has some marks on it, like it was used before.” The egocentric smile on your lips made Leon take a deep breath.

“It was from my mother, okay? It’s the last thing I had from her and my dad before they died. Satisfied?” Leon harshly replied to you, and you knew you had screwed up. You didn’t know about his family, and the way he replied made you realize it was a hard subject.

“I’m sorry, Leon. I didn’t know,” you hissed, feeling your entire face burn with shame.

“Like you care,” he replied in a cold tone, walking away from you towards the airport.

The rest of the flight was absolute silence. Leon didn’t speak with you and had no intention to do so. You felt terrible, but you decided not to show him any feelings; the guy literally hated you, and showing how you felt was the last thing he would believe. So, thinking about all the years of free hate, you decided it was for the best to pretend you didn’t care.

Naturally, pretending that everything was fine was one of your best qualities. You were so good at hiding your own feelings that no one could read you or decipher your emotions.

At the hotel, hours later, you were ready to follow Leon and finish the job. Deep down, you were expecting his coldness and his famous Stoic expression, along with his grumpy humor. However, you were caught off guard when he suddenly took your bags and smiled at you. He was, indeed, a full mystery.

“C’mon, darling. I’ll take your bags for you.” When he said that, you noticed the “recently married couple” game was on. You glance at him and smile broadly, then kiss his cheek.

“Oh, babe, you’re so sweet to me. Thank you,” you said, giving him your bag and walking in front of him like you were some kind of model. Two people could play this game, right?

After the check-in, you two walked between fake laughs until you reached the master bedroom. Leon could pay, and so could you, but you decided to let him play along since it was his mission, and you were just his annoying partner.

“Such a cliché… having one bed,” you sighed at the sight of the master bed in the center of the room.

“We’re married, it should look like that.” Leon rolled his eyes, leaving your bag close to the bed as he analyzed the entire room.

“No, we’re not married. We’re pretending to be,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed and smirking ironically at him. “And besides, why me? You said you wanted to leave. You could have asked for any other agent”

“Who said I didn't ask?” Leon replied with the same ironic smirk on his lips, sitting on the armchair in front of you.

“And what did they say?” Suddenly, you sounded more upset than your usual sarcastic demeanor. You hope Leon didn’t notice.

“Unfortunately, they can’t give me another partner. Guess I’m stuck with you for God knows how long” He sounded annoyed for a moment, but you chose to ignore it completely.

You decided you needed a bath. You took a few clothes from your bag and decided to “play” with him. Not only that, but you removed your clothes in front of him, sensually, trying to get some reaction from him. When you glanced at Leon, he was hard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you noticed he was breathing heavily. Now he was nervous, and it wasn't anger.

“We are married. I guess this is what wives do in front of their husbands.” You wink at him, making your way to the bathroom wearing nothing but your lingerie.

Leon was completely speechless. You could see him swallowing harder, his Adam’s apple going up and down faster. The devilish smile on your lips didn’t make things easier for him, either. It took a lot of strength from him to look anywhere else but you. Leon was clearly uncomfortable and nervous.

“You know, if you want this mission to succeed, you must pretend you don’t hate me. And for that, you need to trust me, Kennedy. I know you despise my methods, and I know you’re anxious to get rid of me, and honestly, I don’t really give a shit about your teenage behavior,” you said from the bathroom, wrapping your now naked body around a white towel and opening the door again so you could see him. “So, I promise I’ll try my best to not screw everything up. Just try not to act like the asshole you are usually whenever you’re with me”

“Oh, I’m the asshole now.” Leon finally seemed to wake up from his own trance, and his expression suddenly changed from Stoic to aggressive. "You've acted like a complete jerk since the first day we started to work together, and according to you, I’m the asshole here? You should look at yourself in the mirror, sweetheart”

“Then why did you stay here with me this entire time? You could have split a long time ago, golden boy,” you say, crossing your arms in your chest, not intimidated by his behavior.

“I told you. They won’t put me with another agent. I’m stuck with you, and trust me, I wish I could have left a very long time ago,” Leon replied coldly, his blue eyes almost icy with the way he was staring at you.

But instead of your silence, you caught him off guard.

“I know you’re lying. If you snap your fingers, they will do everything you want. You just have to ask, since you’re their golden boy. They freaking love you, Kennedy, and there’s nothing they wouldn't do to please you. Don’t bullshit me,” you said, walking slowly towards him and hissing, your eyes shining with sarcasm.

But Leon didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he took his leather jacket and left the room without saying something. You decided to calm yourself down and go straight for a bath, enjoying the candles and their arousal. After what seemed to be a long time in the tub, you left the tub and wrapped the towel around your body; the room was still empty, and you couldn't care less about Leon. If he wanted to act like a pampered kid, that was his problem, not yours.

You enjoyed the time alone to do your skin care routine, and decided to take care of your own body as well. It was almost eight when the phone inside your room started to ring.

“Ms. Kennedy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your husband seems to be causing quite a scene in the hotel bar. I might have to ask you to pick him up; otherwise, I’ll have to ask security to take care of him,” the person on the other side says to you, and immediately, you sighed.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go get him right now. Thank you,” you said, forcing the most sweet tone of voice you could at the moment.

You left the room thinking about ending Leon. He could definitely jeopardize the entire mission with his behavior, and this was unacceptable. When you found him in the bar, he was, indeed, causing a big scene. Leon was screaming and scaring the rest of the guests, and there were at least three security guards next to him.

“Leon, darling, come on. You've had enough,” you said, approaching him and touching his shoulder softly.

“Are you his wife?” one of the security guards asks you with a serious expression. You couldn’t blame the man, he was only doing his job.

“Yes, and I am really sorry for my husband. I guess he’s just too carried away…” you said with the calmest tone of voice you could, trying your best to hold him tight.

“Ma’am, you need to control him. He made a lot of mess in the bar.” The other looked severely at you, with an angry expression.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Don’t worry about the trouble, we can pay for the inconvenience,” you replied in a harsh tone. Suddenly, Leon threw up, and his vomit fell on the floor. “And we can pay for that too”

“Suck on that, fuckers!” Leon smiled before you dragged him back to your room.

In the silence of the hallway, Leon had a lot of difficulty walking properly. He was stumbling on his feet and saying incoherent things in your ear. You never saw him like that, and it was pretty weird being his babysitter. You wanted to kill him, but he couldn’t even stand, and possibly wouldn’t remember a thing the next day.

“I hate you,” you muttered, dragging him across the hallway towards your room.

“Why do you hate me?” Leon asks, his mouth smelling of alcohol and his words confused. “Am I not good enough?”

“Where is this coming from?” You raised both of your eyebrows in visible confusion. Finally, you reached the room and unlocked the door, dragging Leon into the bathroom.

“I tried… to be enough… I know I’m an asshole, but… I’m scared of being hurt again, and… I push people away from me… but you’re so different…” he says between drunken hiccups, which is almost funny, but completely unexpected. “I've liked you since the first time I saw you, and… and…” Leon throws up again in the toilet, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before looking at you again. You were completely speechless.

“I think you need a bath,” you muttered, still shocked by his words. Your hands were shaking, and for a moment, you had no idea what you should do.

“No… I… I need to finish this because I don’t know when I’ll have the balls to do so again…” Leon grabs you tightly, not wanting to let go of you. Biting your lower lip, you nodded. “I know I said I hate you, but… but that’s not true. I only did that because… because I was scared and thought you would reject me… so I started to act like an asshole… I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay… I should be sorry too, I didn’t make things easier for you since day one” you said to him, sounding more kind than you usually are. He won’t remember this conversation, you are sure of it.

“I feel complete trash… I should’ve just… asked you instead of acting like an asshole…” Leon said this between other rounds of drunken hiccups. He’s pretty wasted.

And before this conversation could end in another way, you decided to give him a cold bath. You didn’t remove his clothes, and he complained a lot when he felt the cold water on him. After that, you had to change his clothes, and when Leon saw you touching him, he turned hard again, although he was too drunk to even be ashamed. You had trouble laying him on the bed, but he didn’t struggle against you.

“I love you,” he whispers before falling asleep.

The next morning, you decided to leave Leon alone for a while. You couldn’t explain to him what happened the night before because you were too shocked to say something. “I love you,” he said, and his words made a home in your head. How was that even possible?

Leon Kennedy, the guy who hated you with his entire being, said he loved you. He was drunk, and he probably didn’t mean any of those words. Maybe he was just playing a game with you, maybe that wasn’t true. However… drunk people tend to say things they usually wouldn’t say. So, there was a remote possibility that he was, indeed, telling the truth. How could you believe him?

“Fuck… what happened?” Leon asks you when he woke up, squeezing his eyes. He had a terrible headache.

“You got drunk last night and caused a lot of trouble in the bar,” you said, throwing at him a small, transparent bag with painkillers.

“Shit, I can’t remember anything. My head hurts like crazy.” Leon looks at you, and you can see the effects of the hangover on his face.

“Glad one of us has commitment to the job,” you said, sounding harsher than you wanted to be. Leon looks at you again, but completely confused this time.

“What did I say?” he asks, and then, as you can notice, he sounds more desperate. If it were at another time, you would definitely take advantage of it, but his words echoed in your head again.

“Nothing important. Just regular drunk stuff,” you say, shaking your shoulders, avoiding the subject that was hammering your head.

"Fine.” He nods his head and stands up, walking to the bathroom.

His words were floating in your head, and it was hard not to think about what happened the other night. At this point, you had no idea how you would finish the mission. Not with his words hammering in your head, penetrating your chest, and making you feel things you really don’t want to.

You hate Leon Kennedy and everything he made you feel.

He comes out of the bathroom, and he has a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight you had of him, all muscular, his body sculpted by the gods, walking like that in his own glory. It made your stomach twitch. You felt your face burning, and right now, you wanted to dissipate from the earth.

“We have a meeting in one hour.” You had to find a lot of strength inside you to not stare at his chest when you spoke to him.

“Can you go alone? I’m not really in perfect condition.” Leon sits on the bed, looking at you. He seems to not realize what’s happening. You, in response, shake your head.

“No, I can’t. Since we’re married, you need to come with me. It sucks, huh?” you replied with a cold smile, looking at him with dead eyes.

“Jesus, you’re really a pain in the ass,” he says in a deep breath, reaching for the painkillers.

You decided to ignore his commentary and get ready for the day. According to your new schedule, the man you two went to investigate would be in a meeting and then head to the restaurant. It was the perfect opportunity. You decided to wear a short black dress, making your thighs visible, and a V-neckline, showing a little of your breasts.

"Fuck” Leon mutters when he sees you, and you can notice he’s a little nervous. Maybe he’s starting to remember what he did last night.

“What?” you ask him, raising both of your eyebrows.

“I can’t find my phone,” he replies angrily, looking the entire room over to find his phone.

“It’s in the drawer.” You rolled your eyes, finishing with the makeup and your hair. Leon sighed in relief when he finally found his phone. “You’re welcome”

He took a few minutes until he finished getting ready. Leon was wearing a navy blue shirt, black shorts, and sunglasses, the same ones he was using at the airport. He was looking very beautiful, but you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Ready?” he finally asks you, looking at you with some curiosity. You nodded, grabbing your purse and walking next to him outside the room.

The hotel’s restaurant was filled with the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of conversations. Leon and you decided to sit across from each other at a small, intimate table, your gazes scanning the room for any sign of your target.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft jazz playing in the background provided a calming facade to the tension that lingered between them. Leon, with disheveled hair and a pair of sunglasses that only partially hid the evidence of a rough night, rubbed his temples and winced.

"Ugh, I think I might die. I can't believe you dragged me into this after last night. I swear, my head is splitting." he muttered, pretending to be reading the menu.

"This is a mission, Leon, not a vacation. You knew what you signed up for when you took that last shot. Now, pull yourself together. We need to find our guy, and your hangover isn't helping." you shot him a withering look, your eyes sharp beneath a cascade of your hair

"I just don't get why we couldn't have rescheduled this. I mean, who plans a stakeout the morning after an undercover party? It's like the universe is against me." Leon leaned back in his chair, wincing at the light filtering through the bistro's window.

"We don't have the luxury of rescheduling. This is our best chance to catch him off guard, and we can't afford any mistakes. Your lack of professionalism could jeopardize the entire mission. So, get over yourself and focus." You clenched your jaw, your frustration evident.

Leon sighed, realizing he had hit a nerve. He straightened up and took off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes.

"Fine, fine. I get it. No more complaints. Let's just eat and keep an eye out for our guy. Maybe the food will cure this hangover from hell." he said, waving his hand at the waitress.

"Good. We need to stay sharp. Our target is slippery, and we can't afford to miss any signs. Just remember, we're a married couple on a lunch date. Act natural." you nodded, your stern expression softening slightly.

As the minutes went by, the restaurant was an oasis of calm, its subdued lighting and plush furnishings a stark contrast to the pounding headache Leon was nursing.

Besides his mood and his complaints about the headache, you were the one who maintained a professional demeanor. However, your patience was wearing thin. The clinking of silverware and muted conversations formed a backdrop to your undercover mission.

"Can we make this quick? My head feels like it's about to split open." Leon winced, massaging his temples after minutes in silence.

"You brought this upon yourself, Leon. You can't let your personal life interfere with the mission. We have a job to do." You shot him a disapproving glance.

"I didn't expect last night to turn into a frat party. It was supposed to be a simple gathering." Leon sighed, regret etched on his face.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you started to behave like a pampered kid. But guess what, Kennedy? We can't change that now. We're on a timeline, and we can't afford mistakes. So, suck it up and focus." your eyes narrowed, your tone of voice sounding angry. I love you, his words, still echoing in the back of your head,

As he perused the menu, Leon's eyes flickered across the room, and he stiffened.

"There he is," he muttered, nodding discreetly toward your target who had just entered the restaurant.

"Perfect timing, Leon. Just what we needed." your gaze followed Leon's, and you cursed under your breath.

You two ordered quickly, your argument temporarily set aside as you two maintained the appearance of a normal, albeit slightly disgruntled, married couple. The target settled at a nearby table, engaged in conversation with an associate. As your food arrived, Leon's hangover-induced irritability resurfaced.

"Can we at least eat in peace before we tail him? I'm not in the mood for this undercover drama." he complains again.

"Your mood doesn't matter. We need to catch this guy. Finish your food quickly, and we'll tail him discreetly." you shot him a stern look.

Leon grumbled but complied, glancing over his shoulder at the target. The argument simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to erupt. As the two of you left the restaurant, the hangover weighed heavily on Leon, intensifying his annoyance. You kept your voice low as you two trailed the target through the hotel's corridors.

"Leon, I don't care about your hangover. We can argue later. Right now, we need to focus on the mission." you sharply told him in annoyance.

Leon shot back, his tone sharp, "Well, maybe if you were a bit more understanding, we wouldn't have to argue at all. This headache is killing me."

You shot him a pointed look but decided to let it go for the moment as you two approached the front desk to inquire about your room. The target was believed to be staying on one of the upper floors, and obviously, you two needed to gather information without raising suspicion. As you stepped into the elevator, Leon swayed slightly, earning a disapproving glance from you. The elevator doors closed, and Leon muttered:

"I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

The doors opened to a corridor adorned with plush carpeting and dimmed lights. You and Leon maintained their cover, acting the part of the honeymooning couple as you two made your way down the hall. Just as the both of you reached the door to the suspected target's room, a sudden chill crept up Leon's spine.

A group of imposing figures, undoubtedly the target's security detail, emerged from the elevator behind you. Your eyes widened as you discreetly tugged on Leon's arm, directing his attention to the unexpected threat.

"Leon, we've got company," you whispered urgently.

“Well, sweetheart, you won’t like this” Leon said, turning himself to you.

“What-”

Before you could even speak, you felt his lips crushing against yours. Something about his kiss made you feel something inside your chest. The taste of alcohol mixed with mint, the way his tongue danced inside your mouth, it was something you never felt and tasted before.

Leon tilted your chin upward, creating the perfect illusion of a stolen moment between two infatuated lovers. The security guards, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected display, hesitated in their approach. You felt him break the kiss, your eyes meeting with a shared understanding.

“That was close” he whispers, holding your hand as you two walk together in the corridor.

But you were left without any words. His kiss caught you completely off guard and for some stupid reason, you felt your legs were failing you. Something about the way Leon's lips pressed against yours sparked an internal conflict. His kiss was not one of disdain; it was fervent, almost desperate. In that moment, the line between pretense and reality blurred, and you found yourself torn between the mission and your own conflicting emotions.

As you walked in silence next to him, the tension between you two became palpable. Leon, ever the professional, maintained his stoic expression, his eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threats, even with the hangover state. You, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the unease that accompanied you every step. You stole a glance at Leon, his features carved in light of the hallway.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the night shattered as a series of sharp cracks pierced the air. Bullets whizzed past you two, sparking against the cobblestone streets. You and Leon instinctively dove behind the cover of a wall as the realization hit — you two were the targets now.

"Move!" Leon shouted over the chaos, grabbing your arm and propelling you forward.

The rhythmic staccato of gunfire followed you two, echoing through the maze of narrow alleys. The assailants were relentless, shadows in pursuit, fueled by an unseen vendetta. You two sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors, your breaths mingling with the desperate echoes of your footfalls. Leon's mind raced, analyzing escape routes and potential hiding spots. You, feeling your heart pounding, cast glances over your shoulder, your instincts sharp as you matched Leon's every move.

The honeymoon facade shattered as the two agents sprinted down the corridor, bullets whizzing past the two of you. Panic and urgency replaced the hangover-induced haze in Leon's mind. You two reached a stairwell, taking it two steps at a time, the footsteps drowned out by the chaos unfolding behind you.

As you two burst onto a lower floor, you spotted an emergency exit. Without hesitation, you burst through the door, finding yourselves in a garden. The adrenaline-fueled escape continued through the green labyrinthine surrounding the hotel, leaving the luxurious facade behind as you and Leon navigated the maze, chased by both the consequences of the cover being blown and the remnants of the security detail.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Apparently, the said billionaire found out about the two of you, and now, Leon and you had to run somewhere else safe, leaving all your belongings in the hotel. There were gunshots everywhere, and you had to fight for your dear life, protecting you and Leon with a marble statue as a form of barricade to prevent being shot.

“This isn’t how I expected my honeymoon to be,” Leon muttered, shooting one of the security guards.

“This isn’t a honeymoon either,” you replied, firing your gun at the guard, killing him with a perfect headshot. “We are not even married”

“Well, this isn’t how I imagined it, anyway. We need to get out, Ms. Kennedy,” Leon said, offering his hand to you, which you took without thinking twice. You started to run, with Leon covering your back.

You could hear the security guards running after you, two more gunshots. Likewise, you ran for your life, not daring to look behind you, knowing Leon was right behind you, making sure you were protected, which was very odd, considering the history between the two of you.

At the moment, it's the last thing you're worried about. After a few minutes of running, you managed to escape the guards and find a place to hide. You were breathing heavily, and shaking.

“Are you okay?” Leon asks you, looking at the direction you two came from.

“Why do you care?” you simply replied, coughing a little as you tried to catch your breath.

“Do you think I don’t remember what I said last night? C’mon, I might be a drunk asshole, but I don’t forget things easily.” Leon glanced at you, which was more sympathetic than usual.

“This isn’t fair. You can’t say things like that after treating me like garbage for years,” you snapped at him, finally letting your feelings go without any shame. “You can’t say you love me, and the next day you can’t barely look at my face. You can’t say you love me when the only thing that comes from your mouth is hate and disgust. This isn’t fair, and you can’t play like that with me”

After saying that, you decided to walk yourself out and leave Leon alone. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to play with your feelings like that. You were so angry at him for throwing that on your shoulders with no responsibility.

Besides, you had important things to deal with, not his bullshit. Your hands were shaking like crazy, and you realized that you had no control over your feelings, and this was very dangerous, especially in your line of work. You needed to calm yourself down, and you needed to do it fast.

Hours later, everything was quiet. Leon was nowhere to be seen, because you didn’t notice when he went missing in the first place, and you couldn't care less about him. It was obviously a stupid idea to try to get back to the hotel, knowing it would be heavily secured after what happened earlier. But, somehow, you felt something very wrong.

The gunshot noises out there were exactly what you didn’t want to hear. You heard screams and loud voices, and immediately, your hand fell to your gun. You heard footsteps, and by the sound, you knew this person was supporting his body weight on his left leg, and was limping heavily. When you were about to attack, it was him.

“What the hell?” you gasped in shock, seeing him limping and, of course, injured.

“I tried to get our comms back” he whimpered almost quietly, as you helped him sit down. He was breathing heavily, his hand pressing tightly on his ribs. “But, as you can see, it didn’t go well.”

“And you say I'm reckless, right?” you muttered, trying to see the size of the damage on him, although he whined again. “You could've died in there, asshole”

“Now I understand why you do things this way,” Leon chuckles, but then he groans in pain, his grip on his ribs getting tight. “It’s way more fun”

“Fun? Are you out of your mind, Kennedy?” you snapped at him. If Leon wasn’t injured at the moment, you would definitely beat the living shit out of him. “I don’t do things like that for fun!”

“Keep your voice down, sweetheart. I don’t want to get back home inside a coffin,” Leon said, as he pressed his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. In the sudden silence, you were able to hear more footsteps, and Leon kept pressing his hand on your mouth. A few minutes later, everything went silent again.

“I’m not… okay” he mutters, and his eyes meet yours. Blue like the ocean. And then, you finally see the blood spot on his shirt — the same spot he was trying to hide from you. “I’m sorry”

“I swear to God, if you dare to die on me, I’ll personally kill you, Kennedy,” you replied, and then you started to press his wound to prevent him from bleeding to a certain death.

But he smiled. It was a faint smile, but he was really smiling at you. You saw him raise his hand, and he touched your hair, moving the strands that fell on your face. The way he was looking at you, so sad and weak, it was like he was saying goodbye.

“You look so... beautiful.” His voice seems weak, and his breath starts to become more shallow. “I guess… this is what angels look like”

“C’mon, Leon, don’t you dare die on me,” you said as you noticed yourself getting more anxious by the second.

He smiled again and kept looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes. Slowly, he started to close his eyes, and his breath got more shallow, indicating he was losing consciousness. The more you tried to keep him awake, the more he seemed lost. You were slowly losing him.

“Condor One! Condor Two,” someone called you two. It was your squad.

“We’re here” you shouted at them, your hands filled with Leon’s blood as you waved at your squad. “He’s injured and losing a lot of blood”

“Don’t worry, we’re taking you two,” the leader said as the team approached you with medical equipment.

You couldn’t describe the stress you felt with everything that happened in the meantime. Did you two succeed in the mission? Was it over? You couldn’t know. Not until you were sure Leon was safe and sound.

From the helicopter, you could see the sirens, the local police, and the agents from the government. It was almost unbelievable, but it was true. The operation was a success, after all. You glanced at Leon. He was sleeping, or at least he seemed to be.

You tried to rest, but it seemed unreachable. Your body was electric, filled with constant energy that prevented you from closing your eyes. You wanted to sleep badly, but your concern about him was enough to keep you awake. When the helicopter finally landed at the hospital heliport, Leon was immediately taken into surgery. As for you, you had no other option but to wait.

Hours later, you had no news about him, and the anxiety was eating you alive from the inside. At this point, your body was less tense than before, and the first signs of stress and tiredness were finally showing up. You were sitting in a chair, in an empty white hallway, waiting. The hours seemed to slip through your fingers, slowly.

You sighted a kid playing with a purple teddy bear, and for a moment, you started to wonder about the life you led. The choices you made and how you ended up in your job. It was weird to think that while other people had normal lives, you had to risk yours every day, to make sure they would live in a safe world.

It sounded selfish to think like that, but you had every reason to do so since you couldn’t have a normal life. That word didn’t exist in your dictionary. Nor in your days.

Then, you see yourself playing with Leon’s mother's ring on your finger. For a brief moment, you imagined how your life would be if you were married and raising kids. Then, you push away these thoughts; motherhood isn’t your style, not even a married life.

“Ms. Kennedy?” you hear the doctor call you, and the sound of Leon’s surname addressed to you like you were his real wife makes your heart ache.

“Is he okay?” Your voice sounded more hoarse than you thought it would, a small consequence of being silent for so long. The look on the doctor’s face said there wasn’t good news.

“Your husband has lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop the bleeding, and the surgery went well. Our main concern is with his brain injury…” The doctor pauses for a brief moment, wondering how to tell you the next news. “But, unfortunately, he’s in a coma.”

The news came at you like a violent wave. Suddenly, the world around you stopped, and you couldn't hear anything else. Your eyes were wide open, your chest was burning and aching, and for some stupid reason, you didn’t want to believe those words. How could Leon be in a coma? It was your thing to play reckless, he had no right to leave you like this.

You saw the doctor talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything; everything around you was running slowly. What the hell was he saying? His lips moved slowly, just like the rest of the entire world, but you managed to understand: he was asking you if you were okay or if you needed something.

You felt like you were drowning, unable to reach the surface, surrounded by darkness. You wanted to scream and cry, but you couldn’t. You felt trapped by an invisible force, holding you tight and keeping you shut.

It was the sight of Chris that made you turn back to reality, and finally, the scream that was trapped in your throat came out from the core of your lungs.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Redfield said quickly as he held you before you fell to the ground. Your legs were shaking just like the rest of your body. “It’s okay”

“It was my fault, Chris.” Your voice was muffled by desperate chokes and sobs. “He’s in a coma, and it’s my fault”

“It’s not your fault, okay? It could’ve happened to you or him. Leon knows what he does, and I’m sure he did that to protect you" Chris tries his best to comfort you, although it seems impossible at the moment. He still holds you tight, for which you are very grateful, because you know you’ll fall if he lets you go.

Leon had no one in his life. You knew that the moment he told you about the ring. The “family” he had consisted of Chris and Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. You had no room for this. Leon made that pretty clear years ago, but now everything is different. You had to tell everyone what went wrong, how he got injured, and why it ended like that. You had to describe the entire mission, you had to remember everything. Now you were sitting again, with Claire holding your hand, while Jill and Chris were talking with Rebecca. Your eyes were locked on your hands, still stained with his blood. You were completely shocked, with no reaction or words.

“He’ll wake up, I know he will,” Claire whispers as a way to comfort you and give you kind words.

“He said he loves me,” you managed to say, although you doubted Claire would hear it. You wanted to hold onto something real, that would help you deal with what was happening.

“He always did, I’m glad he finally told you that,” Claire said, and you were a little surprised she heard you. More surprised to hear something you thought would never exist.

“But I don’t think that’s true. He always hated me.” You finally look at her, your eyes seeing something different from the dried blood in your hands.

“Do you think Leon is capable of hating you? He’s so in love with you, he can’t even hide it,” Claire said, and then she smiled largely while holding your hands.

But you find it hard to believe those words. Your mind was conflicted between what Claire was saying and what Leon said before he fainted. You wanted desperately to believe it, but deep down, you weren't sure. You finally received authorization to see him, with the benefit of being his “wife” and a government agent, but when you stepped inside his room, seeing all those loud machines around his body and a giant bandage on his ribs, his clothes were perfectly folded in the chair. His skin was pale and cold to the touch. He was almost lifeless, and seeing him like that made you sob again.

“I’m sorry… I never wanted to see you hurt,” you muttered, hoping he would hear it. You held his hand, praying he would wake up. “If you can hear me, then come back to us... I miss you fighting with me”

But there was nothing — not even a small squeeze on your hand. You were trying to convince yourself that he heard you and that he was coming back to you, and that was the lie you were desperately trying to believe. How silly you were. How desperate and pathetic you felt. It could be days, weeks, months, or years, how could you possibly predict when he would wake up? It was up to him.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Kennedy,” you said last, as a single tear fell from your eye. You wanted to be brave for him.

And as an answer, he squeezed your hand weakly.

Three months later.

“Goddammit, this hurts!” Leon groaned angrily at you when you tried to remove the bandage from his ribs to clean it.

“Stop moving, asshole,” you said back, glancing at him and then rolling your eyes. “Then it won’t hurt”

“You’re so fucking gentle,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. You waited until he stopped moving so you could change the bandage.

“Hey, I’m not the one with open wounds,” you teased him, then finished removing the bandage, being extra careful with the stitches on his skin.

“How does it look?” Leon asks with a soft voice. You noticed that he never actually looked at the wound.

“Terrible, but healing,” you smiled kindly at him, cleaning around the wound with the antiseptic and the wet cotton. You saw his skin chilling, and soft groans coming from his mouth.

Leon hated seeing his scars. He hated having them; he hated knowing what caused them, which was why he barely sees himself in the mirror; he avoids his own image. One month ago, Leon woke up from his coma, and although he was very confused, at first, due to his brain injury, he had no memories of the mission or what happened before he got hurt. Chris had to explain everything to him like he was a toddler learning how to communicate.

“So… that was it,” Chris tells him, after explaining why he was in a hospital bed with a huge wound on his ribs.

“Shit… I’m tired,” Leon muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to relax his beaten-up body on the bed. “Two months?”

“Yep. You slept like a baby,” Chris chuckled, making fun of the situation to lighten up his mood.

“Where is…” Leon started, as it seems pretty obvious that you weren’t there with Chris.

“Oh…” The smile on Chris’s lips disappeared slowly, and he became more serious, sitting more appropriately on the chair. “Well, um…”

For some unknown reason, Leon was anxious. He didn’t know why, but he felt eager to know why you weren’t there with him; he was sure he heard you say you missed him fighting with you, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. And the way Chris kept looking at him made his heart beat ten thousand times faster. When Chris was about to tell Leon about you, someone knocked on the door, and when the person came inside, Leon felt disappointed to see it was a nurse with his medication.

“Mr. Redfield, you’ll have to leave now. The visiting hour ended a few minutes ago, and the patient needs to rest,” the nurse says, leaving the tray with Leon’s medication on his bedside table. Leon sighed, glancing at the window, while he laid his head on his pillow to rest.

“Before I go… I want you to have this,” Chris said, getting closer to his bed with something in his hand. Leon glanced back, curious. When Chris opened his hand, Leon saw his mother’s ring, and he felt sad. “You know, she was here with you the entire time”

“Then why is she not here now?” Leon asks, holding the ring in his hand and avoiding Chris’s gaze.

“Give time to time,” Redfield said before leaving his room.

Leon hated being in the hospital with different wires connected to his body. Nurses checked on him constantly, asking a lot of questions, taking him through thousands of exams to see if he was doing better or worse, and doing physiotherapy. They said the brain injury had damaged his body, and, besides the wound on his ribs, Leon had broken his arm and would have a disability in walking and doing normal things. Of course, with the proper therapy, he would walk again and have a normal life, but he needed to cooperate.

Leon had already convinced himself you didn’t care, but on the third week after he woke up, he was taken into another exam. One hour later, when he came back to his room, he found you asleep on the chair, wrapped around your jumper, seeming tired to the bones. The nurse helped him lay back on his bed, and he remained silent, just watching you sleep. He wanted to keep every detail about you, even the small ones. Suddenly, you moved on the chair and woke up, yawning. Nothing he had rehearsed in his head prepared him for this moment.

He had given up on hope, he thought you would never see him again. Maybe you had found another partner, or maybe you had moved on with your life. Perhaps you just didn’t care about him. Maybe and more maybe…

"Hey,” you said, noticing he was too shocked to even pronounce a word. “How are you?”

“Fine, I guess,” he managed to say, and he wanted to punch himself because he sounded very rude. “That’s not what I meant…”

But, to his surprise, you just smiled. Chris told you about his amnesia, he told you that Leon wouldn’t be able to walk for a long time because of the damage to his brain from the injury. You were hoping he didn’t remember what happened before he fainted that day. It would be easier for both of you.

“I came here because Chris told me you woke up, I wasn’t in the country, so…” you said, feeling your cheeks blush a little. He nodded quietly, and the expression on his face told you he was sad. “I had to finish our last mission. Do you remember anything?”

“Not so much, everything is a little messed up, and every time I try to remember something, my head hurts,” he says, taking a deep breath and laying his head on the pillow again. “I remember me in front of your apartment telling you about our mission; I remember giving you my mother’s ring; and the fight we had at the airport… I remember a few things from the hotel we were at, but nothing more… Sometimes I have a few flashbacks. I remember getting hurt trying to get our comms back, breaking my arm, but..."

“It’s okay, don’t force yourself. You know you’ll remember eventually,” you said to him, trying to give some comfort. “You’re alive and recovering, that’s all that matters now, Leon”

“It sucks being here… I want to go home, but people keep telling me I’m better here and that medical bullshit,” he sighs, then he looks outside his window again.

“About that… I’m here to offer something,” you said to him, already thinking it would be a terrible idea.

“What would that be?” he asks you, raising both of his eyebrows in a slightly curious tone.

“Come live with me…” you simply said, shaking both of your shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Until you recover, of course”

At first, having him live with you proved to be a difficult task, mostly because Leon thought he was a burden and strongly avoided his appointments. In his head, he could treat himself alone, he could take care of his wounds and do the chores in the house. However, he could barely leave the bed, and he complained every time you tried to convince him to attend his appointments. Even Chris tried to coax him into getting out of the house, but Leon refused like a pampered kid. It was very difficult.

“You know I can’t do everything on my own, right?” you asked him after finishing changing and cleaning the wound on his rib.

“I know, but… I’m sorry,” he says with a deep sigh, looking at you with guilt. “I know I’m making this more difficult than it should be…”

“It’s not your fault, but I really need you to understand that sometimes even the toughest agent needs help. You can’t avoid medical care forever, Leon,” you said, looking straight into his eyes.

“I’m an asshole, right?” He managed to smile a little, then he looked at you. “I never thanked you for taking care of me”

“What can I say? You didn’t make things easier, either.” You smiled at him, looking into his blue eyes.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Leon whispers, then bites his lower lip and avoids your eyes.

“Shoot me”

“I… remember what happened… before the coma. I remember the mission,” he says, finally taking the courage to look into your eyes. You decided to stay calm, but not cold. “I was scared, I never thought I would almost die… but then you were there with me, and I felt at peace”

“Why did you give me your mother’s ring?” you decided to ask. You needed to understand.

“Because it was personal, I wanted you to have something personal from me… I knew one day I would come close to death trying to get your ass out of danger, and I thought you would feel better having something mine,” he explained, and then, everything made sense. He truly cared about you.

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Kennedy.” You smiled at him, then you laughed.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked after knocking on his door. He glanced at you, his eyes swollen after crying for God knows how long.

This entire month that you took care of him was enough to learn how to read him. Before, he was pure mystery — the person who hated you the most. Now you know when he’s happy, angry, or uncomfortable. You know how to decipher him, read his face, and understand how he feels.

Leon still sleeps in the guest’s room, but sometimes you can hear him wince and cry, and sometimes you can hear him sobbing. You woke up to the sound of him crying and decided to finally ask. You had been wondering for weeks, thinking he wouldn’t talk about this subject. But you needed to try it, anyway.

“I… it’s nothing, I’m okay,” he said, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“C’mon, you can talk to me. We’re friends now,” you say again, sitting on the edge of his bed and smiling.

“It’s just a silly nightmare…” Leon whispers softly, looking at his arm plaster. You had signed your name on it, followed by Chris, Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. “It’s Raccoon City. The same night over and over again”

“You were there? I’m surprised,” you said to him, and he smirked slightly.

“I was a rookie cop, late as hell on my first day. I had recently graduated from the Police Academy,” Leon explains, gazing at the ceiling, then at you again. “I survived that night, met Claire, saved Sherry… then, they forced me to work for them, and here I am”

“Forced? What do you mean?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“It was a deal I made to keep Sherry safe… I never told this to anyone,” Leon whispers, and you imagine how cruel it was for him to be forced to work all those years for the government. “How about you? How did you end up being an agent?”

“Before the government, I was in the army. Special Forces. I worked with Task 141 across the earth, until I decided to leave before things went to shit” you tell Leon, which makes him glance at you completely surprised. “I miss my buddies Price, Roach, Soap, and Ghost”

“It’s so weird to think how our lives were different… I was forced to join the government, you decided to do it for yourself…” Leon whispers, analyzing his own choices in life. “Now I can truly understand why you work the way you do…”

“I made a lot of bad choices, I’ll admit that. But after everything I did in the past… you actually get used to your own method of working,” you say to him, hugging your legs. “Maybe that’s why I do things the way I do. I like the adrenaline and danger that come with it”

“I’m sorry for calling you reckless,” Leon said after a brief moment of silence.

“That’s okay, trust me. I've heard worse things before,” you chuckled.

Leon seemed more calm, although his eyes were still red and swollen. You heard the first drops of rain hitting his window, and the noise of the lightning outside announced the rain. For a moment, there was only silence between the two of you.

“I hate this stupid arm plaster,” Leon suddenly says, and then you laugh.

“But there are our names signed on it. And I made a drawing when you were asleep” You showed him the drawing you made. It was a cat and a few flowers.

“Flowers? Really?” Leon frowned, glancing at you.

His last appointment provided good news. His ribs seemed to be healing, and soon he would be able to remove the arm plaster. After the appointment, you drove Leon to his physiotherapy session, and for the first time after he woke up from the coma, he finally decided to cooperate with himself. For some unknown reason, he wasn’t grumpy today.

“What? They’re cute!” you protested while laughing at his reaction. “But I’m serious, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow you have that physiotherapy session and an appointment”

“Well, if you keep doing home exercises, soon you’ll be fully recovered,” the doctor tells him, sitting in front of you two.

“Home exercises?” Leon asks, looking briefly at you, knowing you would definitely force him to do his exercises.

“Yes. It’ll help ease the pain and help with your mobility.” She nods, noting something on the paper. “And, most important, you can’t avoid your appointments, Mr. Kennedy”

“Yeah… I’ll keep coming,” he said, his entire face red as a tomato.

When you drove him back home, he certainly wasn’t expecting a surprise from your little family. Claire, Rebecca and Jill decorated your entire apartment, while Chris went to buy food and drinks. Because of the thousands of pills he was taking, Leon wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol, which you gladly thanked him for. He was better sober than drunk.

The smile on his lips and the way his eyes were shining were more than he could put into words. You noticed that Claire even bought party letter decorations that were hanging from your ceiling, with the sentence ‘Happy Birthday, Leon’ in blue and yellow.

“Come on, you guys gotta be kidding me” he laughs with happiness, hugging everyone carefully.

“What? You really thought we would forget your birthday, golden boy?” you tease him, drinking soda and giving him one cup.

“This is… amazing” Leon seemed lost in his own words. “I don’t deserve you guys”

After singing him the birthday song, you guys celebrated his birthday with those blue birthday hats and a special cake the girls baked for him. Chris was talking to him, while you and Rebecca were chatting about types of coffee. Jill and Claire seemed to be very focused on their own conversation about TerraSave.

“Guys… I wanted to thank everyone. I know sometimes I’m a pain in the ass, but after everything that happened to me in the past three months, I have a lot to thank for… especially you.” Leon glances at you with shyness. “You took me into your home, took care of me, and had to hear every stupid joke I made, even my grumpy humor”

“That was the hard part, believe me,” you say, winking at him, which makes everyone laugh.

“I know. I was a jerk, and we had a lot of arguments with each other, but recently I found out that…” he paused for a moment, certainly thinking about what to say. “Life can be shitty sometimes, and bad things can happen to us… and this last mission made me see things I thought would never happen to me. I nearly died, but I got a second chance, and I don’t intend to waste it”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Living with him for the past three months proved to be an interesting task. You knew him, and that was enough. Hours later, it was only you and him, sitting on your couch as the rain struck against the window. The fireplace gives off a warm temperature inside the living room, and, despite the silence, you two are more connected than before.

“I must say, there’s one thing I’m sure won't change,” Leon laughs, looking at his hands, after a long time of silence. “Being almost killed truly made me see things…”

“Such as?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“First, I actually never asked to be reassigned to another partner. I only told you that because I wanted to see how you would react” he said, looking at you. “And…”

“What's the second?” You laugh at his confession, mostly because you knew that a long time ago.

“The second is… I really hate the way that I love you”

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pleaktale · 3 months

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Please please- write a modern reader (spiderperson or not) explaining things like email, memes, and the internet. It is such a fun concept to me that Hobie is clueless on things like ai.

Personally, I see that as an oppurtunity to mess with him.

Anything you want! Drabble, headcannons. Just have fun if this tickles your fancy 🫶

I cackled with this one so much because I thought about all his reactions and that would be PRICELESS. Didn't enter much on the AI thing because we don't fw AI 🙅 Thank you for the request, lovie! Did a bit of both <3

Warnigs: none I guess?

Tags: Hobie x modern!gn!reader, headcanons

Enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Hobie is a guy of techs, that is set in stone. But what does he know about memes? Spotify? What about watching videos in tiny screens?

He went to your world once. Guy was LOST in all the screened outdoors, cars moving by sustainable energy and without tires, the lack of humans in things such as supermarkets and pharmacies a little worrying to him;

Once you taught him how to open the door to your apartment, he asked you to dismantle that thing;

"What do ya mean this.. opens with your DNA!?" he asked with slumping shoulders, watching as you entered the apartment like it was just a normal occurrence. And it was.

Your laugh quieted down his mind a little. "It reads my irises through the capture, I already added yours also," you show him the screen of your phone, his name written in the 'allowed' list.

"When tha' happened!!?" Hobie scratched his head, watching over as you cackled your way to the couch.

Visiting each other's dimension was a regular thing, so seeing the old ass things in his world was kinda funny to you;

Sharing wired headphones with him was like living your great great grandparents lives, and watching his curious mind of a nerd in tech trying to figure out your bluetooth earbuds was perhaps the funniest thing in the world;

The first time he went in contact with the humor of your century, it was like explaining calculus to a toddler. But he got the hang of it;

Hobie is smart, that you can't deny. But watching him get used to touch screens was... curious, to say the least;

The first time you showed something AI-made to him, Hobie was taken aback just like you thought he would;

"Ya mean this hyper realistic video of the Eifell Tower burning until it's metals were curling 'n shit.. isn't real?" Hobie had squinted eyes at you.

"Basically, yeah," you replied with a sigh, "it's a little more in control now, we have tools to see if it's AI made or not, but I honestly wanted this gone."

"Bet a bunch of wankers had taken their shared advantage of that," Hobie sighed too, shaking his head in clear disagreement.

After that he always send you videos asking if they're real or not (you got him a phone so he could use TikTok, now it's like having your grandpa sending you skibidi toilet videos asking 'what the hell's this');

He absolutely loves the MP3 you gave him, it's such a tiny thing and still has all his songs plus your favorite ones, he likes to go patrolling with them;

You showed him spotify once, he called it a "damn trap of capitalism" for making you pay for songs that weren't even physical (he's not wrong though);

The concept of being formal over email didn't clicked to him;

"Write a letter, then!" Hobie pointed at the screen after reading your email you planned on sending over to Miguel.

"But that takes weeks to get somewhere, Hobie," you raised an eyebrow, looking at him while pressing the 'send' button. "See? Gone and in his email, if he's online he'll see it now."

"Online? Yeah, a'ight, whatever." His hands up in mock surrender got another set of laugh out of you.

I could go on for longer but maybe for a pt. 2 😅 I hope you enjoyed! Until next time <3

#bleak's writing #request done #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #hobie thoughts #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x modern!reader #hobie x you #hobie x reader #atsv imagines

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bloodypeachblog · 1 year

Text

The Tumblr Yandere Quintet (Peter, Sunny Day Jack, John Doe, Damon, and Alan Orion) - my personal headcanons SFW + NSFW

(TW: blood, knives, death, cannibalism, anything associated with yanderes will most likely be here, so you've been warned)

A/N: btw they coexist in the same universe here. Like, let's say they all live together in a house with Y/N. Why? Because I can. Also this is all F!Reader, so yeah.

~♡~Peter~♡~

• He is shy boi when it comes to you. He acts confident, but underneath he is lowkey panicking.

• But towards others, he is brat. Just, burns and roasts up the wazoo. It's like the person flips the switch and activates his bitch mode.

• he loves playing video games, anything that seem interesting to him. He loves Dead by Daylight and his favorite role is the killer.

• True Crime Aficionado. He listens to podcasts, watches documentaries and movies and YouTube videos, he knows serial killers' stories like the back of his hand.

• he can cook and bake pretty well. He's not Gordon Ramsay levels of good, but he very rarely makes a bad dish. He likes to make food for you and watch your reactions to it.

• as a boyfriend, he is such a hopeless romantic. Roses, poems, serenades (he's not confident in his singing voice, so he plays songs that say whatever he's feeling and sends you the youtube link to listen to them, or just blaring them on the radio outside your window), the whole shebang. Of course, he's not obnoxious about it. Just enough to make you swoon.

• You guys know that old famous photo of a soldier kissing his girlfriend after WW2? Yeah, Peter loves doing that to you.

• pet names for you: Darling, Honey, Baby, Princess, Angel. Basic stuff.

♡NSFW♡

• he likes to nibble on your ear. He loves your reactions to it.

• guy is a straight-up pervert. He'd grope you when you're alone and make dirty jokes. You'd blush tomato red each time.

• angel on the streets, devil in the sheets. More like incubus in the sheets. He will find ways to make you moan his name.

• WHAT DAT TONGUE DO THO? OH LAWD Seriously, when he eats you out, you swear you can feel the very tip of his tongue brush against your cervix.

• favorite positions are missionary, mating press, and doggy style. But he likes oral too, both sides. He loves feeling your warm mouth taking in his cock, he struggles not to cum right then and there. He loves your taste, he can't get enough of it.

•some nights he can be gentle, other nights he'll fuck you into the dirt.

• his cock is about 5.6 inches, good thickness. Not the dick of the gods, but still something to brag about. Very pretty, too.

• Knifeplay? On you, depends on if you're into it or not. On him, FUCK YEAH. He fantasizes about you using a knife to write your name on his chest. Getting cut gives him the biggest hard-on, he'd be already dripping pre-cum. And if you lick the cuts? Oh, this man will cum immediately.

• Anal? Hell yeah. If you're okay with it, of course.

~~~~~

~♡~Damon~♡~

• He's more chill and laid back. Also he's emo. Because I said so.

• He likes listening to music. He likes any genre, but he tends to leans towards emo bands, stuff from Lapfox Trax, and metal. But you play a country song, he will destroy the radio or debate on murdering the artist.

• He wears his puffy coat almost 24/7. I say almost because he can't wear it in the shower. He loves to share it with you, the whole two person in one coat thing couples do.

• he's a cuddle bug, but won't admit it. If you tease him about it, he'll deny it and blush.

• he acts like a kuudere to others, if not annoyed. But when with you, he's so sweet. He'd give you his umbrella if it's raining and you didn't have one.

• Dude can cook, if you can call preparing instant ramen in the microwave 'cooking'.

• This guy loves meat and chewing on bones, so I bet he is also a secret cannibal, but only eats his victims. Gotta get rid of the bodies somehow! He has Peter help with preparing and cooking the meat, but Damon never says where he got it. Peter knows, though, but he don't really care.

• pet names for you: Babe, Sweetie, Lovely

♡NSFW♡

• Favorite positions are you on top, and the position where you're on your stomach and he has your arm behind your back.

• He is SO loving and gentle most of the time. He just wants to make sure you're getting enough. You will cum many times before he even finishes.

• but once in a while, expect to be sore in the morning, some bruises here and there from how much he grips you.

• master of seduction right here. He will whisper in your ear the sweetest yet dirtiest stuff, maybe some erotica limerick/sonnet he found online. His voice is so smooth it makes your core tingle just by hearing it.

• his dick is pretty average, but it's not a bad thing. It gets the job done just fine and you're not complaining.

• he does have a bondage fetish. He loves to tie you to the bed and on special occasions, like your birthday, he'll tie himself up and let you do whatever you want.

• Anal? Nah. Unless you beg for it.

• dude loves meat, so... he has a dolcett fetish. (Don't know what it is? ...eh google it, I'm not your mom. But don't say I didn't warn you.) He never acts on it really [he may eat people, but he doesn't get off to it because he feels like he'd be cheating on you], but his phone and laptop has a folder with hundreds of pics/videos of dolcett porn. Sort of a guily pleasure fetish, emphasis on the pleasure.

~~~~~

~♡~Alan~♡~

• He is such a good boi. Sweetest boi in the world. Pure sugar cookie.

• he is the outdoorsy guy, hunting, fishing, camping, all that stuff. Dude lives in the woods.

• he's the one who brings home fish or game for dinner. Preps it himself in the garage. Expect to find some deer or birds hanging from the ceiling.

• he's a pro at bonfires. Knows all the different ways to burn wood.

• Cooking? He prefers to grill or cook over a fire. He sometimes indulges in Damon's choice of meats, but no one ever tells him what it is. So don't tell him. It'd break the guy...

• he is such a sweetheart. Asking if you're feeling ok, if you need any help with anything, just so considerate. Heavy follower of PDA.

• unashamed cuddler. When you two go camping, he has you in the same sleeping bag as him.

• HUGE astrology and astronomy nerd. He will talk your ear off about the star constellations and tell you your horoscope of the day and if you are compatible with him or anyone else in the group.

• pet names: Doe-Eyes, darling, honey, dear, love

♡NSFW♡

• he's more on the gentler side of things. Perfect candidate for your first time. He will comfort you if it hurts and praise you so much.

• favorite positions are where he can look at you splayed out and writhing in pleasure. Mostly missionary.

• man is a pussy eater. On bad days, he gives you puppy dog eyes and asks to eat you out. With those eyes, you can't help but say yes.

• he likes to nibble and bite. Favorite place to bite is your thighs. He can leave marks, but never breaks skin. If he does, he'll stop and patch you up.

• his cock is the smallest in the group, but not in general. It's pretty average, nothing to complain about. He's a grower, not a shower. You secretly find his cock (both erect and flaccid) adorable, but you never say that to his face.

• does he do anal? Only if you ask him to, but even then, he's hesitant. He will make sure you're prepped well.

~~~~~

~♡~Jack~♡~

• the ray of sunshine in the group. Always trying to cheer people up.

• he loves to give hugs any time, any day, any where

• he is such an 80s retro nerd. He has a collection of games and movies from that era. Favorite movies are The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Favorite arcade game is Dragon's Lair or Pac-Man.

• definitely the fashionista of the group. He loves to create outfits for you to wear, making sure the colors compliment each other. He does this for the other guys too, but some are not sure how to feel about it.

• dude is the kind of guy who would wear a nun's halloween outfit as his costume for reals and awaken some people while wearing it. He makes any outfit sexy.

• Cooking? He prefers to bake. Champion at breakfasts. Favorite thing to make is blueberry pancakes.

• Himbo. Just. Pure grade-A himbo.

♡NSFW♡

• bruh, this man will be cheery and bubbly during the day, total daddy at night. Holy shit.

• he will show you that you are his and only his. He's only sharing you with the other guys just to make you happy.

• man's got a body like Adonis. He's got a chest where he got man tiddies.

• his cock? HOLY FUCK. He's the biggest out of the group and he has to force his way inside you sometimes (this is canon, I swear, I've seen that clip). It is downright BEAUTIFUL. You swear, he is some sort of god.

• his favorite positions are 1) where you're both on your sides, him behind you, lifting your leg so he can plow you while kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings and dirty shit in your ear. And 2) that position where you're on your belly and he is behind you, raising your ass to him and he has your arm pinned behind your back.

• he is definitely heavy on the praise. He sees you as a goddess. Expect him to make you cum multiple times before he even gets inside you, just to make sure you're putty in his hands and ready for him.

• does he do anal? Fuck yeah he does. But he's very careful about it and only does it when you say it's ok.

~~~~~

~♡John♡~

• and then there's John.

• he's just a crack baby.

• sorry, John Doe stans. I just couldn't get that much on this guy.

• he's essentially the pet dog of the group. But it's fine, he's into that.

• he's pretty much a feral animal.

• is fueled by energy drinks and Doritos.

• he LOVES when Damon feeds him the special meat he's collected. He gobbles that shit up.

• dude snuggles you like a puppy. He can be cute and sweet when he wants to, don't get me wrong here. Puppies are always sweet and cute.

• hates baths. Y/N has to chain him to the tub in order to bathe him.

• usually stays in his room. He plays Call of Duty with Peter and loves to watch zombie movies. Favorite movie is Cannibal Holocaust and City of the Living Dead. Ruggero Deodato, Lucio Fulci, and George A Romero are his idols.

• Cooking? No idea how. Anything already prepared is perfect for him.

♡NSFW♡

• you into werewolf quality sex? John's your guy.

• expect tons of nail marks and bites all over you once you're done.

• man will make you bleed.

• some nights, the guys will hear you yell "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!!" from your bedroom.

• he will almost eat you alive, he's that feral.

• Does he do anal? Duh.

• favorite position is you up against the wall.

~~~~~

Yandere Quintet Dynamics

Peter & John Doe: Gaming buddies

Jack & Alan: Big bro (Jack), little bro (Alan)

Peter and Damon: Constant dick-measuring (metaphorically, of course) at first, but now partners in crime (oh they'll double-team ya). They like discussing true crime stuff, enough to where they have a podcast.

Damon & John Doe: Man (Damon) using dog (John Doe) to hide evidence.

Jack & Peter: total nerd buddies. Trivia night is horrible with them.

Jack & John Doe: kid being terrified of dogs (Jack), rabid dog (John Doe)

Alan & Peter: another big bro (Peter), little bro (Alan) dynamic.

Alan & John Doe: hunter (Alan) and his hunting dog (John Doe)

Jack & Damon: guy (Damon) is annoyed by the other guy (Jack), but secretly enjoys his company.

Damon & Alan: same deal as Damon and Jack, but Damon will kill anyone trying to hurt or be mean to Alan.

~~~~~

Aaaaand that's all she wrote! Hope you enjoyed this feast!

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lousirs · 3 months

Text

UD headcanons no one asked for!

my motivation has gone to get the milk and has not come back since, SO HEY! who wants to hear some random headcanons that have been microwaving in my head for the past year???

this is going to be a long one...

stuff under the cut vvv

Lou is the kinda guy to only pack nice looking outfits on a holiday. Do they suit the occasion? Probably not. But he wants to look the part every where he goes, even if he's wearing a suit during the middle of summer

He would also be the guy to complain that it's too cold, even though he was told to pack up layers of clothes for a hiking trip, and didn't. But when someone tries to give him a coat, he says "I don't need that, I'm fine!" even though he looks like he's going to freeze over.

He takes the coat not too soon after

On the other hand, either Nolan or Ox would overpack for a trip. Ox because he is basically the fatherly figure of the group, and wants to make sure that everyone has enough food, water, and layers of clothing for the trip. Oh, and he brings a first aid kit as well. Nolan however does it because "What if I didn't pack enough?? What if I need this oddly specific thing??" and packs more than he needs to

Speaking of Ox, he always came off as a character who really enjoys camping and exploring, ya know? He seems like the leader of a scout group who loves to sing campfire songs and tell spooky stories that no one believes. (him and Rhidian would get along well)

LITERALLY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT LUCKYBAT AND OX'S DYNAMIC AND IT'S DRIVING ME WILD. Hello?? A withdrawn and somewhat jaded mayor who is protective of those he's close to with his intelligent, caring and concerned assistant?? That sounds interesting!

I'm sure LuckyBat knows more than anyone else (besides Lou) of what Ox went through. Perhaps he didn't know about the Institute, but he knew ox went through some stuff outside Uglyville. Perhaps that's why he's so cautious to go into the pipe.

(And perhaps the reason why he decides to go to learn new stuff was for the sake of finding out what Ox doesn't speak about?)

Back to the Prettydolls, I always found it interesting that Nolan was able to run the gauntlet despite being imperfect, although Moxy and Mandy, two other imperfect dolls, were thrown into recycling. Why was Nolan allowed to run the gauntlet, huh Lou? Didn't you say that any unideal looking doll goes to recycling, Lou????

Personally, I like to think that Lou allowed Nolan to do training and was like "Haha watch this idiot fail". And turns out Nolan was really good at it (flashbacks to Nolan being buff in the novel). Lou is flabbergasted.

...Either that or Lou just allowed him to run the gauntlet to watch him fail immediately because "Haha funny" and also "Haha imperfects can't win. Suck it loser~"

Kitty is jealous of Mandy's makeup skills, and often copies her because of it, too embarrassed to ask for advice because she needs to learn on her own. After Lou gets overthrown, Kitty and Mandy help each other out on their makeup and hair

Tuesday is the girl to think that "Yeah I'm smiling, but inside I'm crying" is the deepest thing to ever exist. Kitty bullies her for it.

Also, Tuesday cry-sings "I'm a mess" by Bebe Rexha after Lou denied her 1244th love confession. She will try again tomorrow

Because Kelly Clarkson was pop-rock for a while, I like to imagine that Moxy had a rock-n-roll rebellious phase, and still has a few characteristics from that era of her life

During the scene where Lou is going up the gauntlet lift with everyone else, he is constantly moving about. Winking at Mandy to fake confidence, adjusting his suit...etc. I always saw this has him being nervous, because you know, he's about to expose himself for being a prototype after this gauntlet stuff is over. So I like to think that he fiddles around with his suit when he's nervous. Mainly readjusting the sleeves, tightening his ascot tie and flicking out his collar. Also pulling out loose threads, if there is any.

I thought for the longest time that when Lou's hair got slightly messier, it showed him being more genuine. There is one god damn strand on his fringe that goes from being in place to hanging out, and I thought it showed him losing his façade, very very subtly.

This might be a hot take but I always saw Loundy (Mandy/Lou) as being friends/lovers to enemies. Think about it: Lou and Mandy seemed to have some sort of connection, Mandy (in my opinion) basically being Lou's assistant, similar to the spy girls. She began thinking he was perfect, and they formed a (seemingly) close bond. But over time, as Lou's desperation for perfection increased, her opinion of him soured, and she realised he isn't as perfect as she thought. She kept the negative thoughts to herself, though. Who would believe her? The perfect doll with the flawless looks and endless talents, topped off with a charming personality... Why would he be unhinged? How would he be unhinged?

You know that line Mandy says to Lou at the gauntlet? "You know, Lou.. When I first got here, I thought you were perfect. I couldn't find a single thing wrong with you. But, I can see a lot better now." perhaps that wasn't just talking about the events of the film, as it probably implies. Maybe she knows how terrible he's been for a long time...

That's all I got for now, I may doodle some of these if motivation comes back, who knows..

#uglydolls #doodle #uglydolls lou #uglydolls nolan #uglydolls ox #uglydolls tuesday #uglydolls lucky bat #uglydolls moxy #uglydolls kitty #uglydolls mandy #dollpurgatoryart #headcanons #dollpurgatory rambles #art #digital art #digital fanart

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starlyx0 · 3 months

Text

so I have noticed some people think Ben is boring (trust me I’ve seen it)

so I am here to talk about everything ben and try to explain his character!

This won’t be the best character analysis

as English is not my first language and I'm trying to bring more attention to stuff that's not talked about often.

So I'm going to split this into 6 categories to try to make writing this easier for me so bare with me.

Things I’ll go over!

personality

looks

hobbies

past & current

relationship with family

relationship with friends

This is going to have a bunch of stuff that are headcanons I'm only including them to show ppl if u can put some thought into it u can get some reasonable ones.

1 | personality

I see a lot of ppl reduce his character to only music and being mute? which really upsets me because he soo so much more,

but making his entire personality music makes me so mad

most headcanons I see are all the same PLEASE I AM TIRED of hearing what kind of songs he listens to that or all ship headcanons titled as Bens

he's a shy awkward guy we all know that cuz he really just stands in a corner awkwardly scratching his neck most times and he also doesn’t like horror or anything scary (eps 11)

hes a protective older brother not overly like Tyler where hes more protective of Tay from other people ben is more chill going and more afraid of what life throws at Lily, there’s not much here cuz more points I have fit in the other categories :)

2 | looks

he looks kinda of basic nobody can deny that so I won't, but because of his past I imagine he would have a bunch of scars ik he doesn’t and that’s a bummer cuz I really wish he had 🥲

After he lost his voice he became super facially expressive but also really good at hiding his emotions so it’s either really easy to read him or really hard no in between. also because of his past bullying, I assume it affected him and the way he presents himself that why he sticks to basic outfits and look,

overall trying not to bring attention to himself even after therapy he stuck to his habit but if someone gave him a little push and helped him he would drop it and start putting thought into his looks,

saw this somewhere I don’t remember where they said he would have curly hair as a kid but his mom didn’t know how to take care of it so they ended up shaving it and i think curly or wavy haired Ben would be so cute also he would look amazing with an eyebrow piercing %100 and uhh I genuinely don’t remember him smiling genuinely in canon so i imagine his with a downturned smile I may be wrong about that idk

3 | hobbies

did I make this a separate category just to talk about him being an artist? yes I absolutely did 🙂↕️

I fear most people forgot about it n honestly and that is criminal

there is not much said about it in canon but I’ll work with what I have,

he probably didn’t have much artistic skills when he was younger and only started doing it as a distraction and a way to calm down n he probably made himself draw

I feel like red projected onto him in that ifykyk😭

but from the picture Ben draws based on things that happen so he diff draws a bunch of random things he sees and thinks its cool, he would draw everything and everyone and I feel his art style would be more realistic tbh

but Ben also plays guitar, plays piano

, fight, used to sing, and the medic of the group like what else he do?? he is literally perfect what more can I say here but most of these are not really hobbies but skills he had to learn for the sake of his life

4 | Past & current

I’ll talk more here about how his past affects him currently,

I love to think he has a fear of fires because of the fire that burned down his house more of a headcanon tbh

see the pan he burned in that official art? it took him half an hour in his room to calm down his heartbeat and gathering around the campfire is the opposite of relaxing for him

probably hates turtlenecks with his being

and I want to talk about his voice as that affects him the most what really bothers me about the fandom is that a lot of people ignore the fact that he probably will never speak.

I see plenty of ppl benlor shippers say

“he would sing for —-🥺“ “he would whisper to comfort—🥺“ n it makes me wonder are we even talking about the same character???? which is absolute bullshit if he did that he is the one that’s gonna need comfort like please. he would probably never speak unless he sees someone's head gets ripped off there body.

It's said flat out in episode 27

That he has the option to speak but he doesn’t why? Because he hates his voice and if he hates his voice sm he chose to not speak for yearsss what makes u think he would speak for the sake of someone else's comfort when doing that only pains him? he is selectively mute for a reason I'm not saying he doesn’t have a voice but at least if u headcanon him to speak in the future at least let it be for his own sake instead of doing it for someone else or make it about ur ship.

5 | Relationship with family

Starting with his parents I don’t think they are bad parents at all they tried to help him as much as they could but they couldn’t so they opened up other options and let him move away and heal even if he’s not with them I think what the did is a good choice for their situation and their relationship would still be great tbh considering the distance

now onto Lily

I honestly can talk about them for days. I love them

Their relationship is so sweet the way Lily is stuck to him every chance she gets and ah also used to sing to her can you imagine how she felt seeing her brother coming home later and later covered in bruises not singing to her to sleep anymore watching him sneak out

she basically watched her brother spiral down and then leave she was probably too young to really understand what was going on fully so now she just wants to spend all the time she can with him and he tries to make up for lost time :(

now Aiden

most people probably forgot Aiden is the closest person to Ben and the same goes the other way around.

Aiden is a life long friend of Ben’s

he literally trusts him, follows him everywhere and lets him decide for him

they spent most of their time together since Ben moved in they live together there stuck together.

Aiden probably helped him a lot mentally helping him try new things and be more carefree

Ben also probably helped him mentally and physically patching him up and looking out for him overall,

I see some Aiden fics that are like “Oh no Ben’s gonna be so upset at me 😖” and they make him act like a nurse, not a friend and he just bandages him up then leaves as if nothing happened and someone else comes and in does all the comforting

like I can count all the fics where Ben acts like a decent person and I'd still have more fingers up than down,

it’s so upsetting how ignored their relationship is in this fandom they deserve so much more honestly.

6 | Relationship with friends

he is definitely the therapist friend

He is that kind of friend that you can tell everything to him going from weird food to the worst time of your life and won't even realize it

his friendship with Ash is very chill not the closest I'd say,

they're really just trying to keep their peace lmao

his friendship with Taylor

I imagine them as gossip girls tbh Ben being a quiet kid while Taylor is popular they definitely know some good gossip

his friendship with Tyler is something he used to find him irritating but then he realized they have a lot in common especially when Tyler was teaching him guitar which was precise since he was the one who offered

and his friendship with Logan

it's really sweet Logan would try to teach him gardening while they talk about their interests

and be absolute nerds together lmao

overall the friendship between all of them is really sweet ik I didn’t give it justice here but the found family trope and the way they find comfort in each other is just everything to me

And I'm done yappin hope u enjoyed that because that was over 1,5k words

if u have any questions feel free to ask 🫡

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hello-nichya-here · 1 year

Text

Yes, Buffy loved Spike

The way people act like that was in anyway left up to discussion by the show is legit hilarious/infuriating.

James Marsters (Spike) has said in an interview that, when Joss Whedon let him know that Spike was gonna fall in love with Buffy in season five, he had assumed it would one-sided - only for Whedon to correct him with a "Oh no, she's gonna fall in love with you too."

And the show wasn't shy about it either. Through seasons six and seven, we are shown Buffy repeatedly denying that she loves Spike - and then immediatelly contradicting herself either through actions or her own words (and even in season five she had already kissed him once after he did not give away her sister's identiy to Glory even after being tortured).

After Buffy comes back from the dead - from heaven - and is dragged to the literal hellmouth, having to crawl out of her grave, she sees the Buffy-bot being torn from limb by a bunch of demons. Naturally, this fucks with her head a bit. She manages to save her friends, but she is still very shaken, and looking like she's not really fully back to her senses as her sister is speaking to her. It really does look like something is very wrong and that she is not at all the same girl we once knew.

Then she hears Spike's voice and goes to see him. Only when she sees HIM, when HE starts trying to talk to her, when HE is the one taking care of her, does she start to properly respond. And, of course, out of all the people there - all of whom are worried about her and that she supposedly trusts way more than she trusts this "fully evil" vampire - Spike is the one to whom she reveals what actually happened to her.

During the musical episode, we see her sing "I touch the fire and it freezes me, I look into it and it's black. Why can't I feel? My skin should crack and peal - I want the fire back" confirming to us that her depression after being taken from heaven was not just a temporary consequence of the shock of it all, and has left her completely disconnected from the people she loved, and from life itself, and that she does not know if it can ever be fixed.

But at the end of the episode, after Spike stops her from basically commiting suicide (because remember, he stopped BUFFY. not the bad guy) she sings to Spike "This isn't real, but I just wanna feel" right before they kiss. And Spike's own song says "I died so many years ago. You can make me feel like it isn't so."

It is very clear that what convinced Buffy to keep on living wasn't just because Spike loved her - she already knew that, and she also her friends and this has not done anything to make her less depressed. What makes her not give up is realizing that SHE can still connect to others, SHE still can have feelings for someone. Only it is with her former mortal enemy instead of her friends and family (she had even said in an earlier episode that he was the only person she could stand to be around) and the kiss makes it obvious that this new bond she has with Spike is NOT platonic.

And the following episode when she tries to pretend it means nothing? It has her acting all flirty with Spike while they're both dealing with the amnesia spell, and once their memories return the episode ends with her kissing him AGAIN.

And during ALL of the episodes she's claming she is totally disgusted by him? She's having sex with him all the time. And when Tara finds out about it, Buffy does admit she's using him, but she refuses to give an answer when Tara asks "Do you love him?"

When Spike brings a date to Xander's wedding , Buffy KNOWS is just to get her jealous and Spike even admits to it - and she admits that, even knowing all of that, it DOES bother her. She is unbelievably distraught after finding out he slept with Anya, and even says to his face "I have feelings for you, I do. But it's not love. I could never trust you enough for that" showing us that the thing stopping Buffy from truly giving Spike a chance is, understandably, the "You're a literal souless creature that needs to feed on people to survive" factor, not because their connection is not genuine or strong enough, or because of her past with Angel.

Not to mention, it makes perfect sense that, during the season she was clearly suicidal, she falls in love with the character that is representing the possibility of her death - their first time even happens after Spike reveals that, for some reason, the chip no longer causes him pain when he attacks her, and thus he actually poses a threat to her again.

Unhealthy? Absolutely. Scary? Fuck yes. Does she get over her "feelings that are totally not love" in the season finale, when she's crawling "out of her grave" again, this time triumphantly, in the sunlight, all brave and finally letting go of her self loathing? NOPE!

In season seven, when she's finally about to go out with a man that is not and has never been evil, her friends are all obviously wondering if this is a sign that she is over Spike - of if she's just pretending to. Buffy's response? THE biggest Freudian Slip she's ever had in the series.

"Why does everyone in this house think that I'm still in love with Spike?"

STILL!

Still. In. Love.

Not "Why is everyone convinced that I fell in love with Spike? I told you guys I liked him, but didn't love him" but "Why do you guys think I'm not over those totally vague, definitively not deep 'feelings' I had and that were 100% not just a code for 'Yes, I am in love with him, but I'm scared it will blow up in my face'?"

And how does that date with that Not Evil guy, that was revealed to be the son of Slayer, go? Pretty well! It looks like this romance might actually have a chance of going somewhere.

At least until she goes "Look, I know Spike killed your mom when he was souless and all, but if you try to go after him to get revenge again, he will murder you, and I will let him." She also turns her back on her watcher, and father figure, when she finds out he was in on the plan to kill this vampire that is Totally-Not-Her-Boyfriend.

The episode even has Giles directly compare her codependent bond with Spike to what she had with Angel - which again, included her letting Angelus get away and kill people. Sure, Spike has a soul now, he let the dude live to tell the tale since killing his mom WAS an awful thing to do, and if he was attacked again and killed him it would be self-defense - but it's impossible not to notice the very clear "Buffy is protecting her man" tone of it all.

Not to mention, before that, Spike offers to leave Sunnydale since Buffy's potential new boyfriend clearly can help her find demons and thus she no longer needs him around - and she full on says that SHE IS NOT READY FOR HIM NOT TO BE THERE.

Then, of course, there's "Touched." The episode in which EVERYONE is going "We might die tomorrow, lets fuck to cope", and not only is Buffy clearly touched (Get it? Get it?) by Spike's speech about how much he loves her, she asks him to get in bed with her and hold her. And even though they are not having sex, the scenes of them cuddling are being framed as being just as intimate and romantic as the scenes of everyone else making love to their partners. Again, we had Giles full on state the obvious to Buffy: she and Spike might not be sleeping together anymore, but they are VERY clearly acting like they're still in a relationship, even if both are now hesitant to give it a try after literally everything went wrong for them.

The following day, Spike says that it was the happiest night of his life, and when he starts saying that he knows it obviously didn't mean as much for Buffy as it did to him, she corrects him and says it absolutely did. Spike even goes as far as trying to confirm it AGAIN by asking "Were you there with me?" to which Buffy says "I was", which is HUGE considering she had just admited to him the previous night that she had always cut herself off from everyone - Spike VERY much included - due to being the slayer.

"Oh, but what about the Bangel kiss in the finale?"

The one Joss Whedon explicitly refered to as "the show's way of servicing the Bangel fans" aka FANSERVICE? The one that came right out of nowhere as the signature of Bangel's "romantic chemistry" is angsty pining? The one that didn't hold a candle to one of the few Bangel scenes I say absolutely worked, aka the kiss after Angel comes back to Sunnydale to help Buffy deal with her grief over her mother and that only happened after they had spend HOURS together because, surprise surprise, it doesn't matter if they still have feelings for each other, they have NEVER had this dynamic of exes that just casually make out with each other the second they are in the same room together?

The one that happens right before Buffy says "Sorry, you won't be the vampire champion that will save the world, I'm chosing Spike for that role"? The one that is followed by an obviously jealous Angel making it very clear to Buffy that he is bitter she's "brushing him off for captain peroxide"? And then she asks if he'll react that way everytime she gets a BOYFRIEND?

When Angel points out that, again, she just let slip how she actually feels about Spike, Buffy has to deny it because Joss Whedon thought the ONLY way to make sure viewers didn't miss that Buffy is totally an independent woman that don't need no man was to tease both the possibility of a Bangel AND a Spuffy endgame just to go "Sorry, Buffy is gonna choose to be single."

HOWEVER, even the way she does that has changed significantly, as she says "He is not my boyfriend, but he is in my heart." Notice how, unlike all the previous times, Buffy is not trying to diminish what she has with Spike.

She went from "I slept with Spike/said I feelings for him BUT this totally means nothing and I could NEVER love him because he doesn't have a soul like Angel did" to "Look, Angel, I swear that Spike is totally not my boyfriend BUT I will treat him like he is because I absolutely do have feelings for him. Could you pretty, pretty please go back to L.A. now that the fanservice moment is over? I'll even end it with a 'sometimes I totally think of what could happen between us someday' so we can pretend our romance has not been officially pronounced 'impossible to ever be endgame' since season three of my show and season one of your show?"

And where does she immediatelly go to after this? To see Spike. Because she wants another night of cuddling with him. Then The First shows up in the middle of the night to torment her, he explicitly refers to Spike as Buffy's vampire LOVER.

Finally, the final battle is happening, and Spike is about to die saving the world, and Buffy, with tears in her eyes finally says that she loves him. Whedon had even said to Sarah "Be proud of him. Love him when saying it." We even see literal flames as they are holding hands - an obvious nod to the musical, with the "I want the fire (feeling) back", and Whedon basically confirmed it by saying it was a very deliberate choice to symbolize the feelings the characters have for each other. It is the visual representation of Buffy FINALLY accepting that she truly does love Spike.

"Oh, but he responds 'No, you don't, but thanks for saying it' implying Buffy was only trying to make sure he would die happy!"

Did you guys forget EVERYTHING ELSE I just mentioned in this post? Or the fact, at that point, Spike is still processing the guilt of all the monstruous things he did as a vampire now that he has a soul again? Did you forget him literally asking Buffy to kill him for what he did and telling her that the soul did not suddenly make him good - only for HER to be the one to say he fought back against the monster inside of him and that she believes in him?

Again, James Marsters gave us his insight on what he felt Spike meant by that line and how he played it: Spike was saying that Buffy COULDN'T love him. Not yet. Because he didn't feel he deserved it yet. It was not the right time for them. Yet.

"Oh, but in the late seasons of Angel, when Spike is brought back to life, he is told that Buffy never truly loved him!" Yeah, he is told that - BY ANGEL! In what world would he, Buffy's ex that has had problems with Spike since long before Buffy was even born and that had already admited that having her pick Spike over him "did not bring out the champion in him", not be extremely biased?

"But you're forgetting the Buffy comics in which she is basically told Angel is her soulmate and sleeps with him during some magical fuckery that made her go mad with power!"

Yeah, and in those same comics, even though it took forever and Whedon just HAS to force the "Buffy ends the story chosing to be single because she can either be a strong female character OR be in a happy relationship" AGAIN, she and Spike became a couple after all of that, with her explicitly telling him WHAT SHE HAD WITH ANGEL IS IN THE PAST, and the ending even suggests is only a matter of time before she and Spike get back together again, this time for good.

Claiming that it was up for debate if Buffy ever truly loved Spike is as ridiculous as if I said "I know we are both shown and told many times that Angel and Buffy slept together in season two, but I actually think it's up for the debate if they truly did" NO, IT ISN'T!

We are shown how Buffy's feelings for Spike grow over time, how her dynamic with him changes, how she is actively choosing him over everybody else after he gets his soul, and both the character and the people involved in making the show EXPLICITLY SAY she loves him.

You can dislike it, but don't expect everyone else to cover their ears and close their eyes to pretend it wasn't clear that Spike's love for Buffy has not been one-sided for a VERY long time.

#spuffy

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greyyson-but-no · 5 months

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hey guys heres a couple reasons I don't like taylor swift and maybe yous should consider your own opinions on her, no enforcement, just a suggestion

Being a billionaire will never not be bad for the economy (The Eras Tour is expected to make around $2 billion by the end of it so there is no denying her being a billionaire now).

She brands herself as someone that completely build her own fame from nothing - this is not true both her parents were extremely wealthy which meant that she had the ability to fly weekly to NYC to get singing and acting lessons and was working with a talent manager at the age of fourteen. She could not be at the level of fame she is at today if it were not for that but she brands herself as if that is the case. The issue is not with her actually coming from money but that she brands herself as someone that isn't — it creates a fake sense of security for her young fans that believe they can do the same.

She takes the worship she recieves from her fans and (for lake of hetter word) uses it against other artists and communities to attack them through the way she advertises her new music and speaks about them in other songs. This is not me saying that those other artists are perfect either (eg the kanye situation), but instead that this sentiment creates further uneccessary drama which she uses to boost her fame and popularity.

Taylor Swift only speaks up about certainly world issues when it benefits her. She hasn't spoken up about the genocide in Palestine at the moment, it took her 21 years into her career to collaberate with a woman of colour and she is clearly the poster girl for White Feminism. Not only this, but dating Matty Healy of 1975 is proof of that. He is an extremely racist, xenophobic and generally controversial person, and since Taylor once stated "i want to be know by what i love", those same attributes can automatically be associated with her.

The Eras Tour that has been completed so far is only a small amount of her carbon emissions (the first leg of the tour ended with 139 tons of CO2) and that isn't including the equipment being transported and her individual trips to run errands and see her boyfriend three times a week. Her buying carbon credits does nothing, carbon credits will not rid the world of the CO2 she has emitted and in fact only pay governments to 'support the reduce, reuse, recycle' project which we all know is not where that money actually goes. Recently, she flew 30 miles and don't give me the 'its easier and quicker' argument, thats equivalent to a 20 minute drive.

Calling her a lesbian/queer icon is just completely wrong and doesn't work in any circumstance with her. She is openly straight and has never even been open to questioning her sexuality or gender at all. Just because she released 'you need to calm down' during a time of queer peril, doesn't make her a queer icon. In fact, there are many other lesbian artists that are either growing in popularity or have the potential to, and giving that title to her brings down actual queer artists and their opportunities.

"Tortured Poets Department"? Are we even serious at this point? Who exactly here is tortured because its certainly not the white straight billionaire, that's for sure. Having a song that basically says it was okay you dated a racist because you were 'heartbroken' is not okay. To have little digs at Joe and him being depressed using the excuse that he broke your heart is not okay. Using metaphors that link to you being in an insane asylum is not okay. Insane asylums were extremely torturous places to be and there is no moral decision in comparing the music industry to a place with that much terror and injustice.

here I have only spoken about two of her partners in a passing mention, there is much more that I could add to on these subjects but I've decided not to because I don't think they hold the same weight the points I've already made have. this will probably be edited and added to in the future.

I'd like to emphasise this is not me forcing swifties to completely turn on her and hate her and everything she does. all I am doing by posting this information is allowing people to make their own educated decisions on how they go about interacting with taylor swift and her community however they deem fit. personally I have her removed on spotify because that is a decision I have made. my decision.

it wasn't easy for my either. a lot of songs of hers I associated with my grandad who recently passed, which meant having stop listening to her music lead to a big part of mine and his bond was erased, but that is again, a decision that I have made. her negative impact on the world, the music industry at the media is just too much for me to defend. again, I will reiterate that is my opinion and my decision, what you guys decides to do effects me just as little as what I decide effects you.

#anti taylor swift #taylor swift

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loveandleases · 7 months

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(Time for our favorite dilf's Fluff ABC. The previous ABC's can be found here and here. Below the cut~)

A = Admiration - Ardent admires when someone is responsible.

B = Body - He's a fan of the entire body, though if you wanted to know which one he would focus on in the middle of the night, would have to ask the old man.

C = Cuddling - He cuddles Cupid when she allows it. When she doesn't he gets a nice scratch as a reminder. Now with a partner Ardent loves being the big spoon, but he will deny he enjoys cuddling.

D = Dates - He doesn't have that much time to date. When he used to he would always offer to cook for his date, Ardent loves to show off his skill in the kitchen, among other places.

E = Emotions - He likes to pretend to be this big tough guy, but one unanswered call to his niece and the man is sulking for the better part of the hour. Ardent doesn't hold back his thoughts while some may say he's an angry person, in reality he just stopped trying to please other people.

F = Family - Ardent is very close to his parent's, especially his mother. He takes care of the complex just for them, not wanting to accept the payment they send his way. He has a sister, who is the mother to his very loved niece. We also can't forget Cupid.

G = Gifts - He will deny he enjoys recieving gifts, but in actuality when someone thinks enough to give him something he truly cherishes it. For Ardent, he doesn't mind to give gifts. When he gives you homemade food, that's when you know he has a soft spot for you.

H = Holding Hands - He will cling to his partners hand like his life depends on it, not wanting to get seperated. Squeeze as hard as you want, he won't let go. Though if you point out you're holding his hand, he pretends it's as a favor to you, definitely not because he likes it.

I = Injury - Ardent is very calm in a crisis, be that an accident or his sister giving birth. He is focused on the end goal. So if someone is hurt, he will basically be like a mother hen. Ensuring they get an ample amount of rest and relaxation.

J = Jokes - The guy tries he really does, when peope laugh at his "jokes", it's usually when he's serious. His jokes tend to fall flat. Every once in awhile he has a good one.

K = Kisses - Ardent kisses with hunger, full of passion. As if the last of breath in his body belongs to his partner. He can be rough more often than not, but if you're lucky enough he might just surprise you with how tender he can be.

L = Love - He loves many people, Ardent doesn't see the point of hiding emotions. It's not something his parents did and it's not something he does either. He grew up in a home where the phrase I love you was always in use. Be that from his family or friends.

M = Memory - Ardent's favorite memory is seeing his niece for the first time, well that and adopting Cupid. Remembering how small she was when he took Cupid home is one of the highlights of his life. Knowing that he could in fact be so caring for her, even though sometimes Cupid just doesn't have time for that.

N = Nightmare (what is one of their fears?) - Not being able to be a safe space for someone he cares about. He might suffer with hearing other peoples emotions, but Ardent still wants to be trusted by them. To be that shoulder they can lean on.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?) - Many people don't know he's actually greek. That is until he gets angry, then he can't help but curse in his native tongue.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)- Kitten.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?) - Ardent would love just hanging out, be that at home or somewhere else. Though he hates when people pay him attention, when it's with you he will deal with it. He would love to just enjoy the night in each others company, with a good book and a nice glass of wine.

R = Rhythm (what song do they hum to themselves, when they think no one is listening.)- Torn to shreds by Deff Lepard.

S = Secrets (how open are they?) - Not very, though that will change over time. But get him in front of his mom, or niece and he is like an open book. The man is putty in their hands.

T = Time (how do they spend their time?) - He spends his time quite divided, be that taking his niece to after school activities, working on things at the complex, trying to get his mother's Manicotti recipe. Ardent can be seen going in and out many times of the day. The question is for who.

U = Upset (how do they act when they're upset?) - It depends on the level of upset. He could simmer in his anger, sulk, or just let it all out.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?) - His body, his cat, and his cooking. He will show it all off if given a chance. Ardent works hard to keep in good health, to love Cupid, and to be able to make a good meal.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?) - He doesn't like to admit he would fight for anyone. Instead he prefers to pretend to care less. (Such a lie). Ardent would fight for his partner, or for someone he sees is done wrong. He might be an ass, but he refuses to let people be treated as such.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?) - Ardent can read a shy person very well. Only time will tell how well he pushes MC's.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?) - Maybe something silly like having the ring on Cupid's collar for MC to see. Whose to say just yet.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?) - Cupid laying on his chest, or rubbing his back. Just letting him feel his emotions and knowing someone is there for him can make him calm.

#loveandleases #love and leases #ardent #fluff #fluff alphabet #alphabet

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httpcarlossainzcom · 1 year

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Idealizations Concerning Real Life Relations - cs55

here is part 2 to this mini series

warnings: i have very bad grammar (sorry not sorry….) also this is an 18+ fic minors do not interact!

summary: Carlos loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

song inspiration: summers over interlude - drake and majid jordan, each time you fall in love - cigarettes after sex, from the dining table - harry styles

word count: 26k (sorry babes)

this is split up into multiple parts so dont worry :)

There’s something about Carlos that makes people drawn to him. He’s charming, enrapturing, in every sense of the word. Makes people feel special. His laugh is infectious, loud and often more entertaining than the original joke when he does that thing where he claps his hands, or falls to his knees if it’s funny enough. Being around someone like that is refreshing. He’s captivating and easy to be around, easy to love. He’s such a bright light no matter where he goes, a beacon to those in his vicinity.

And he’s so, so kind. To everyone that speaks to him. Even to those that don’t speak and just look, he offers a kind smile. When someone has his attention, they have it all, his big doe-eyes holding eye contact, nodding to let them know he’s listening and being attentive. He’s a good person. A little hard to understand, hard to get close to. So people say, so you’ve learned. But he’s good. Not much is known about stars, anyway.

You’re watching him right now, always watching. You’re on another stained sofa in a different house than the one you usually went to with your knees pulled to your chest, a cup of beer resting on your knee. He’s chatting with someone, looks like the guy is showing him his tattoos. Carlos smiles, looks enthused, points to one that he must like based on his reaction. Then he’s holding up his own forearm, pointing to a small piece of ink, and then of course, he’s pointing at you.

Just before coming here, you and him had been at his tattoo shop. He drew the most beautiful, intricate little shooting star into your ribs. A little fireball attached to a long trail of stardust, smaller little twinkles falling off of it. It was simple clean line work, lines thin and dark. And then you drew two of the most basic five pointed stars on him, in a small blank space of his already existing sleeve.

You warned him, told him you couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler, let alone a heavy, vibrating tattoo gun. But he assured you he wanted it, that he needed to get that spot filled anyway.

Though both stars are small, one is bigger than the other.

‘This one is you,’ you had said, pointing to the larger star, ‘and this one is me,’ you continued, moving to point to the smaller one.

‘Is it?’ Carlos had asked, a teasing smile gracing his mouth as he leaned into you.

‘Yeah,’ you had breathed against his lips.

Your soft kisses turned to soft touches, touches that transformed into soft moans. Right there in the parlor.

He’s talking louder now, getting excited. “Look how good her lines are! I didn’t even have to help her that much…” he goes on and on and you smile into your cup.

It was actually a really shitty tattoo. Lopsided, with the points of the stars all different lengths. But hearing him praise you, express how much he actually likes it? It makes your heart burn, glowing bright pink in your chest. You get up and sonder over to him.

He smiles as he sees you, opens his arm up for you to tuck yourself into his side. His arm going over your shoulder, and yours going around his waist. You rest your empty hand on his tummy, can feel how it tenses as he laughs.

“Ah, my little artist herself!” he says.

“That’s a stretch,” you deny, looking towards the guy across from you, “Alex right?”

He nods. “Yeah the one who has spent the last 5 years in school studying medicine and plants,” his voice holds a twinge of regret, a longing for life that isn’t run by tests and grading scales.

You laugh lightly. Ah, the botany guy. “Graduate program?” you ask.

He nods again.

You tap your fingers on Carlos’s stomach, trying to think of something else to say. “Oh! Do you know Charles? He’s not in the same plant… program or whatever but he’s doing a graduate program too.”

Alex smiles. “I don’t know him aside from the parties he shows up at sometimes, but I’ve heard of him around campus. Where is he by the way? You usually have him and Luiza with you when you show up here right?”

Your brow furrows as you take another sip of your drink, readjusting yourself so your back is against Carlos’s chest. He rests his hands on your hips, and cheekily pushes against your ass. You ignore him. “I actually don’t know? We haven’t hung out in a while…” you hum contemplatively while you play with your bottom lip. You look up at Carlos. “Do you know? Lando’s not here either.”

He shrugs, expression bored. “Lando said he has something to do tonight, maybe he’s finally eating Luiza’s pussy. And you know Charles hates these parties almost as much as you.”

You pout still, but Alex swiftly changes the subject.

“Anywho, you’re a tattoo artist now?” he tilts his drink in the direction of Carlos’s arm, his smile playful and knowing. “Must be pretty special to be able to get behind the gun and work on this one. He’s a snob.”

You’re about to deny it once again but Carlos interrupts you with a snort. “Obviously she’s special, we are special friends.”

Alex’s eyebrows raise and you laugh a little. Your eyes sparkle when you look up at the brunette behind you. “Are you drunk?”

He grumbles and wraps his arms around you tighter before mumbling into your neck. “No… not really, but I am horny,” he whispers.

You tut at him, scolding with a whisper, “I literally just jerked you off earlier.”

You’re swiftly ignored as he turns his attention back to Alex, “If you’ll excuse us, we have to put aquaphor on our tattoos.”

You send Alex an apologetic smile, but he just laughs, turning to head in the direction of the kitchen.

Carlos’s hand is tight when it grips yours, a vice like hold as he drags you through the house. It’s at a frat this time, so the upstairs is lined with bedrooms. People are littered through the hall, and in the open bathroom you can see a girl cutting a line on the porcelain sink. The guy behind her holds her hair for her. A modern romance, like a scene from a movie. There are the stereotypical socks on door knobs, and thankfully the music is way too loud and the bass is boosting so you can’t hear what’s going on behind the doors. You almost run into Carlos’s back when he comes to a stop in front of a locked door void of any sock.

“Carlos,” you hiss, “we can’t just have sex in a random person’s room.”

He’s somehow procured a key and gets the door open. “Yes we can, but this isn’t someone random’s room, it’s ’s. He lets me use it sometimes.”

He doesn’t notice the slip of the tongue, once again, but it leaves an icky taste in your mouth. Thick and unpleasant on your tongue. But you know in due time the taste will change, into one of starlight, heady and intoxicating, and so wholly Carlos.

“Lando goes to uni? I never see him on campus,” you wonder aloud tentatively taking a step through the threshold. It looks like a typical college boys room. A desk with a computer and school work scattered all over. A floor littered with shoes and clothes, along with a nightstand that has the lamp, the lotion bottle, and the kleenex box that sit on top of it. You laugh to yourself. Weird.

“Mmm, he’s enrolled and goes just enough to not get kicked out so he can keep getting his student loans and living here,” he replies as he locks the door.

Immediately he’s backing you into the bed, urging you to lay down. He stays close, lips on yours, hands hastily pushing your shirt up and over your head so your top half is bare under him. He pauses while straddling you, looks at you with hooded eyes, taking in the way your long hair fans out against the grey sheets of Lando’s bed. With eyes raking over your skin, his tongue peeks out to lick at his lips subconsciously as he fondles your tits.

“You’re so sexy, your body is so nice,” He pinches your nipples, making them pebble between his finger tips, “love the way you respond to me,” he purrs.

You make a soft embarrassed sound as you blush and bring your hands to your face to hide.

Like every time you try to hide from him, he pulls your hands away and gives you a sly yet sweet smile. He looks down at you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Why do you still get so shy with me? Hmm?” With your hands in his, he brings them to his clothed torso, urging you to touch him.

His mouth parts when you graze his nipples, and he breathes out a tiny, pleased laugh. “I get the same way for you, can’t you feel it?” He trails your hands down even farther, until they are rubbing against the bulge in his jeans. He sighs, head hanging back, letting you pleasure him for just a moment.

You go to undo his belt but he stops you. “Not yet,” he says as he swats your hand away. He kneels down, kisses and sucks at your collarbones, as he grinds softly into your lower belly, quiet little sighs sneaking out between his kisses.

He’s slowly moving down your body until he gets to the new tattoo, fresh and vibrant against your skin, the edges still a little red. He gently runs a finger over it, before kissing next to it, all around it. “I love it, do you love it?” he murmurs, doe-eyes jumping between the ink and your face.

You run a hair through his brunette locks, brushing them out of his face. “Yeah, you did such a good job, thank you.”

He hums and you feel him smile into your ribs before making his way a little lower. You stop him by pulling at the hair you have a grip on.

“Wait, I wanna- you always take care of me…” you look at his cock. “Let me?” you ask.

He sits back up and regards you like he’s debating on letting you have your way with him before he huffs and shuffles off the bed. He stands at the edge and rids himself of his shoes and socks and you watch as you follow his example.

Next he gets rid of his shirt. You take him in, admiring the lithe, trim cut of his small waist, how his jeans and belt rest on his hip bones, the lightest little fuzz of hair that travels down his lower belly. The very obvious hard on pushing against the zip. You crawl over and sit on the edge of the bed in front of him. He cradles your face and your eyes flutter shut at the touch.

“You wanna take care of me, my baby? Wanna make me feel good?”

You nod as you take his arm into your hold, glancing at him through your lashes before pressing a sweet kiss next to the tattoo you gave him. He coos.

“C’mere,” he says, applying light pressure with the hand on your face.

Up close you can see the flush that has taken over his skin. He has little droplets of sweat forming at his hairline. It’s always so hot at these parties. Maybe it’s because you’re always with him when you attend. He’s always burning so bright, fiery hot.

The hand on your face pinches your cheek sweetly, and now, your cheeks are warm too. He laughs a little before he kisses you. “I know just how you can make me feel good, pretty,” he says against your lips, biting quick and sharp.

He threads a hand in your hair at the back of your head and guides your mouth to his neck. “You can kiss me here,” he sighs, extending it so you have more room. “And here,” down to his collarbones.

You kiss and suckle softly at the bone that protrudes, and pull the thin skin between your teeth for just a second. You moan when Carlos hisses and the hold in your hair tightens. Pulling away, you look up at him. He looks down his nose at you, bites his lip before he smirks a little.

“You wanna mark me, don’t you? Was the tattoo not enough?” he answers the unspoken question swimming in your eyes, while simultaneously teasing. He’s acting cocky, but his voice is airy and has a bit more vibrato than normal, giving away how aroused he is.

You nod eagerly. Of course you want to mark him, of course the tattoo wasn’t enough. Maybe you’re greedy, or maybe you’re just in love. But you don’t think it will ever be enough; a part of you will always yearn for more. He takes his time searching your face before he nods a single, short time.

Carlos doesn’t usually let you mark him, and if he does, he’s usually particular about where. This fuels you, and you sink your teeth into his faintly sun kissed skin, rolling it between your teeth harshly, sucking until you’re sure that his skin has turned the color of the prettiest violet.

When you lick at your work to help ease the ache, a moan gets caught in his throat. You rub your thighs together. His noises always get to you, always make your pussy weep inside of your panties. With his chest rising and falling rapidly, he pulls you off and pushes you back onto the bed, a little forcefully, but you don’t mind. He’s always been a little rough with you. Stars are known to be destructive from time to time.

He crowds your space, taking a spot in between your open legs. Being sat on the bed, his abdomen is eye level, and he pulls you to his tummy when he twines both his hands in your hair again. You lick the center line off his abs before you kiss, wet and open mouthed.

“Yeah, kiss me there,” he moans.

You peek up quickly, and see that his head is tilted back again, blissfully letting your mouth work over his skin. His hands in your hair massage at your scalp encouragingly. Gentle and subconscious with his movements. His abs tense and jump when you nibble at one of the bumps of muscle, and he pushes into you, eager, maybe a little desperate. Although he would never admit that.

He holds you there, guiding you where he wants you till he’s pleased and backs away from the bed enough for you to have space on the floor when you drop to your knees.

Your pussy pulses, gets a fluttery heart beat of its own, as you watch Carlos undo his belt. Anticipation makes you sink a hand between your thighs, makes you press and put a little pressure on your cunt to give you just a bit of relief.

His hands are big and strong, and the glint of the belt buckle matches the glint of the rings that decorate his fingers. The glint of the zipper as he pulls it down. He rubs himself over his boxers, shimmying his jeans down just little as he does it.

“Do you wanna kiss me here too?” He’s smiling a tiny smile, talking quietly as his fingertips play with the tip of his cock. He sounds a little breathless too.

“Please,” you all but whimper, mouth watering.

He hums, while he drags his briefs down his length until it springs out and bounces back to his tummy. He sighs when he starts to stroke himself with one hand, the other settling on your face, petting a little before he taps an open palm on it.

You try to hold in the moan, but when his hand connects with your skin again, just a little harder than before, you can’t. It makes Carlos’s hand on his cock speed up. His mouth parts in awe. Gripping your jaw, he pushes it side to side, and you just let him. You let him play with you like a little doll. Another teasing smack lands on your face.

He sighs, lust filled and dreamy. “God, you’d let me do whatever I want to you, wouldn’t you?” His thumb is running over the slightly reddened skin of your cheek. You nod in his hold.

You would. It’s scary to think about, the extent you feel like you’d go to, to have him, what you’d let him do, let him get away with.

He brings his cock to your lips, but pulls it back when you try to suckle it. You pout, and then he taps the tip of it against your lips, groaning when he says, “Yeah, I know you would, you’re so good to me, so perfect,” he taps the length of his cock on your cheek a few times, he marvels at the little string of precum that connects his tip to the apple of your cheek.

His cock feels thick and hot and a pleasant kind of heavy on your cheek, much like how it feels on your tongue. When he finally lets you taste him, you start by curling your tongue around the crown, licking up some of the precum that has dribbled from his slit. You love it when he leaks for you. It shows you what you do to him, how bad he wants you. He confirms it when he sighs small affirmations.

“That’s it, such a good girl for me.”

You look at him, smiling a little at the praise, tongue teasing his slit, and his face makes your pussy throb. His mouth is parted and his eyes are hooded, like he wants to close them, bask in the pleasure, but keeps them open because the desire to watch you with his cock in your mouth outweighs it. He pushes his hips forward.

“Suck it, baby,” he whispers, soft and salacious as he guides the tip past your lips, little by little until it touches the back of your throat.

You’re confident about a few things, but your head game is close, if not at the top of your list. Little to no gag reflex to hold you back, mouth wet and sloppy as you drool all over his length. Tongue skilled as it moves up and down the sensitive vein running on the underside, while your throat contracts around his tip.

His hips stutter like he’s gonna pull out before he pushes in as far as he can, hands forming a makeshift ponytail with your hair as he holds you down, buries your nose in the coarse patch of groomed hair at the base of his cock. He moans, whines, high pitched and loud. He pulls out of your throat with a gasp.

“Fuck, your mouth,” he drools, praises.

He gives you a second to catch your breath, admires the way your eyes are glassy with tears, mascara smudging the slightest bit, surely to be running by the time he’s done with you. You love it when he fucks you hard enough to make you cry, hard enough to make your makeup run. It shows how well he did it, how badly he made you fall apart. He’s got a few pictures on his phone of you looking ruined and fucked out. He says you look so pretty like that, with teary eyes, a messy face, and hair knotted from being fucked into the mattress.

Then he’s fucking your mouth. Hand coming down to your neck so he can feel the way his cock fills it up every time his hips snap forward. His body curls over yours some as he bends a little to reach your neck, and you can feel the heat from his body ignite the air around you as he slides deeper, inch by inch .

Every time he pulls out you take a quick breath through your nose, before he’s pushing in again, your throat like a spit-slick cocksleeve designed specifically for him. The perfect amount of wet and the tightest type of grip. His breathing is audible and ragged above you, harsh huffs, and occasional moans color the air when you swallow around him. His cock is so hard and hot in your mouth, throbbing and pulsing on your tongue.

Your hands are on his thighs and you can feel them tense, almost tremble as he pulls your head down onto him over and over again. He’s less considerate now, stingy with the breaths he allows you to take while he chases that high. He’s groaning loud and unabashed, and you’re choking, bubbles of spit forming at the corners of your mouth and around the base of his cock. He holds you down one more time, shaking your head by the ponytail so that the tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat then he’s hastily pulling you off.

You rest your forehead on his lower belly, trying to catch your breath. You can feel him too, getting a hold of himself, due to the expanding of his stomach as he takes deep breaths. He still has his hands on you, touching just like always, running his fingers through your hair. Until he’s pulling you up by it.

He’s quick to get his lips on you, and his tongue is quick to slide into your mouth. When he tastes himself on you, he sighs, smiles into the kiss. With hands cupping your face, you smile back, basking in the attention and sweet affection. You reach your hand down and grab his cock and his hips jerk. He pulls away at first before subtly fucking into your hand and moaning. You drink it down like the sweetest champagne, his sounds intoxicating in their own right.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he rests his forehead against yours, “wanted to cum in that mouth so bad… wanna cum in your hand right now,” he pushes a long slow thrust into your palm, his foreskin sliding with his movements. He sounds like it’s so difficult to hold back, to keep from cumming right there in the palm of your hand. “You’ve got me so hot baby, wanna cum inside you…” He places the softest, pleading kiss to your lips.

It almost sounds like a question, his voice light and airy, lilting up at the end. Soft and gentle as he brushes his nose against yours, a gesture that is as painful as it is sweet, a touch too tender for what you both are. But it makes you keen in his hold, body pressing to his, as close as you can get.

Your hands are running over him, and his running over you, just taking up each other’s space, breathing each other’s breaths. His hands slide to your hips and spin you around so you’re facing the bed, a little rough, impatient, as they yank your pants and panties down. They knead at your ass, when you lower to your forearms and arch your back, presenting yourself to him.

Carlos drops to his knees behind you, spreads your cheeks so he can see your cunt, pretty and pink and glistening. He rubs his two first fingers in between your plush lips, and your legs spread wider. You push back into his touch.

“Just fuck me, please, I can’t wait,” you breathe.

He hums, plays with your pussy a little more before you feel him spit on it. Then he buries his face into you, tongue coming out and licking from your clit, to your core, all the way to your hole between your spread cheeks. He swirls his tongue around it and you peep, the feeling oddly pleasant, but unexpected. Carlos huffs a little laugh while he pulls away. He sheds his pants, and you follow suit, before settling atop the bed, once more on all fours.

His big hands fall on your ass, jiggling it a little. He groans at the way the fatty part ripples before settling back into place. Gripping his cock with one hand and pulling a cheek to the side with the other, he rubs the tip between your silky lips. The sloppy, wet noises fill the room, loud and clear. The sound of the distant chatter and subdued party music outside the door is distant, barely there, all your focus on Carlos. He hisses as he watches his cock sink inside of you.

“So wet…” he rasps out as he fucks into you with shallow thrusts. He can see your arousal shiny and sticky on his cock, no lube needed.

You nod as your head dips, hanging between your forearms. He bottoms out and you let out a high pitched whine. “Yeah, want you so bad, baby…”

He stays buried to the hilt for a moment, hands running over your ass, your back, squeezing at the smallest part of your waist. His touch feels so good, electric on your skin. But you’ve felt his cock before, many times, and you’re no stranger to how good that feels. It makes you lean forward, makes you drag your cunt up his length, before you push yourself back onto it.

Carlos gasps, hands squeezing hard at the motion. “Fuck… keep doing that.”

You whimper as your work your pussy over him, throwing your hips back, fast and consistent. Getting high off the sounds Carlos is making behind you. The soft curses, the loud groans when you start to circle your hips slightly. The way he just lets you make him feel good.

You collapse onto the bed, arms giving out due to the pleasure coursing through your body, and you turn your face to the side, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. His palm settles on the small of your back, halting your movements so that he can snap his hips forward, punching pleased gasps from you. You turn your face into the sheets, trying to quiet yourself.

He doesn’t like that apparently. If the hand gripping your hair and yanking is enough to go by.

His body is over yours, chest to your back as he fucks into you with short, hard thrusts. “Wanna hear you pretty girl, want everyone to hear you,” he whispers in your ear.

You squirm in his hold, slowly getting overwhelmed by the way his body is making you feel, by the way you slowly climb higher and higher until you feel like you could touch the stars. “Feels… so good…”

“Yeah, I fuck you the best don’t I?” he purrs, “Better than anyone before me? Better than anyone will after me too, right? Always gonna want this cock, aren’t you?”

You whine because you know it’s true. You know no matter what you do or what happens between you and Carlos, he’s always going to live in your head, always going to have a place in your heart, your body is always going to remember him and long for him. Not even just in a sexual sense either. You think he knows this all too well.

He pulls out of you with a ragged breath before situating himself on his side behind you. He urges you to push yourself against him, back to his front, spooning. He grips the thigh of your top leg, pulls it up to your chest.

“Keep them open,” he instructs.

You do as he says, looking down your body where you see him bring the tip of his cock to your center again. He’s watching you though, braced on his elbow, while his free hand guides himself into you. The way your eyes roll back before squeezing shut with knitted brows makes Carlos sigh, the way your mouth drops open when he pushes in the last few inches makes him moan.

He’s going slow. Long, punctuated plunges into your cunt. He’s got his face buried in the place where your neck meets your shoulders. Breathing out lewd moans, his grip on your hip tightens as he bites and kisses at your throat, breath scalding as he pants into your skin.

“Love your pussy, fuck…” he brings skilled fingers to your clit and starts to massage with tight constant circles. You buckle in his hold, glance down at his hand again, watching as he touches you just the way you like, the way he knows you like. The way he knows will get you shaking in no time.

“Please let me cum,” you beg.

He hasn’t purposefully been edging you, but you’re worked up. Usually he fingers you, goes down on you, before you even get his cock inside of you. But due to the change in routine today and the lack of stimulation, the pressure in your core has been building quick, almost putting you at your breaking point already.

He’s well aware, voice teasing yet aroused when he coos, “You wanna cum baby? Yeah, you do?”

You twist in his hold some so that you can look at him, show him the tears in your eyes, hoping that they convey how badly you want to do just that.

His eyes are shiny too, pleasure so raw and apparent in them. He kisses you, licks into your mouth as he keeps that slow pace to his hips. The one that’s so deep, the one that brushes your sweet spot inside every time he glides against your sensitive walls.

“Want you to cum too,” he says it with a sigh, like he’s so close, just needs you to finish him off, “you’ve got me so… think I could cum just from being inside you while you cream on my cock, just from feeling that messy little cunt cum around me,” he’s moaning as he speaks, his hips losing rhythm, speeding up some as he gets closer.

You nod, the hand you’re leaning on holding tight at the sheets, the other keeping your legs spread. “Yeah, want you to cum inside me, cum with me…” Your eyes are closed, and your voice is kind of delirious as you feel it all come to a head. Your pussy is already tightening around him.

He hisses. “There you go, that’s it baby… can feel how close you are,” his hips have almost stopped, just the smallest, minute little thrusts still going. He brings the fingers on your clit down to your leaking cunt just for a second getting them nice and wet before circling your bud again, faster, a little harder than before. Focusing on your pleasure, on making you finish. You keen as the leg you’re holding up starts to shake.

“Gonna cum,” you warn, the hand that was gripping the sheets coming up to your tit to play with your nipple.

Carlos curses on a moan, “Yeah, fuck… me too.”

He feels it, the way your body goes tense before you let go. How you tremble against him as your orgasm rushes through you, moans and whimpers falling from your lips. Your pussy clenching around his cock is what sends him over the edge.

“Fuck, I’m cumming-” he gasps out quickly, before biting down on your shoulder, grunts of pleasure muffled as he fucks into you as deep as he can, repeatedly, with those small thrusts. You feel his cock throb inside of you, cum filling you up.

You smile, serene and spent when he goes limp behind you. His arm comes around your waist, pulls you closer. He keeps his cock tucked inside. You run your fingertips over his arm and feel the slight scabbing of the stars on his skin.

He shivers at the touch. Sitting up some, he curls over you. Your eyes are still closed, content, chest still rising and falling with your deep breaths. He leans in and kisses you, so sweet. Tastes like rose petals dipped in sugar.

He’s still on your lips when he mutters, “Now we have to figure out a way to get out of here without getting any cum on Lando’s sheets.”

You giggle, nod, and then kiss him again. You’ll clean up in a little.

It’s deliberate, the way you choose not to think about the reason why he wants to clean up, get going. How he doesn’t want to stay the night with you.

~~~

“I want you to get out a pen and a piece of paper and then clear off the rest of your belongings.”

School is back in session, winter break ending far too soon. It’s your last semester, your degree is so close you can almost taste it, with only 3 classes left till you’re walking the stage in your cap and gown. One of the classes is a writing class that you saved till the end of your university run so you had something to look forward to.

It’s a Thursday afternoon and you’re sitting in the back of your Creative Writing lecture hall. Someone’s eating so it smells disgustingly of peanut butter and the seats are filled with college students who just rolled out of bed at 12pm, everyone slightly disheveled and the crowd lackluster as the professor paces the front of the room. She’s quickly become one your favorites however, the last few weeks in her class proving to be entertaining as well as educational. You paw your sweater sleeve up in your fist and hold it to your nose and lean forward attentively.

“Now, I want you to think about someone you love. It can be a real person, fictional, completely imaginary. Dead or alive. Old or young. Doesn’t matter. You just have to love them.”

Of course starry doe-eyes flash in your mind. A crooked grin that pulls down a little farther on the right side. The centered mole just under his bottom lip that you kiss softly, so often when he’s distracted. The scar on his cheek that you run your fingers over when he’s resting on you. You do love Carlos, you have for a while now.

“Write that person’s name at the top. They are going to be the model of basis and foundation for one of the characters in the short story project that we have due mid-April. So you’ve got approximately 2 months to finish it.”

A chorus of groans sound around the hall. The boy in front of you rests his head on his arms, looking defeated.

“Hey,” your professor laughs, “this is the last year for most of you and this is the only project you have this semester. And it was in the syllabus. Not sure why you all sound so despondently surprised. You didn’t really think you would get through the whole course without one did you?” she inquires, still pacing the front of the room with a quirked brow.

You honestly don’t mind. It will be a good distraction when you’re left to entertain yourself. Carlos’s actually been more on top of his apprenticeship attendance lately. It’s a good thing of course, but you don’t see him as much as you used to. That’s not to say that you aren’t together an incessant amount, just a bit less than normal. You scribble a tiny ‘Chili ♡’ at the top of your paper.

“Now with your muse in mind, I’m going to ask you a series of questions so that we can get some finite details about your fictional character on paper for you to use and reference as you’re writing,” she pauses, clicks to another slide on the projector. “What is their favorite color?”

After writing the question you pause. Surely it’s red right? That’s basically the only color he wears. Maybe black? You had helped him color his hair black just a few days ago, the stains on your pillow a lightish grey colored reminder every night… Still, you go with your first instinct, scrawling ‘red’ on the lined paper.

“Their birthday?”

You’re quick to answer this one, he’s a Virgo, so his birthday is… A small frown starts to tug at the corners of your lips. What day in September did he say? Did he ever say? Did you guys ever even actually talk about birthdays? ‘Virgo’ gets written next to question 2.

“Are they close to their parents? Closer to the mother or father? Are they estranged? If you know why, please elaborate.”

You know you don’t know this one. Fairly certain Carlos hasn’t even mentioned them in passing.

“What role, or character archetype are they playing in your story?” she clasps her hands in front of her. “Are they the hero? The love interest? The villain?”

You answer that one hastily.

A few more questions are asked, some that you can answer, some that you can’t. They gradually get deeper, more personal as your professor carries on with them.

“Okay. Now I want you to think hard about this character, and about the muse you’ve crafted them after. Could you answer all of the questions I asked?” She moves a weighted gaze around the room. You feel like she’s looking directly at you when she speaks again. “Do you really love the person you chose for the basic character prototype? Again, they could have been real, imaginary or fictional, but do you really love them, or do you love the idea of them? The version of them that you have pieced together in those brains of yours.”

Your heart stops for just a moment, you can almost feel how you pale, the color draining from your cheeks. She continues.

“I only ask because I want you to grow to love the character you are creating. This isn’t Psychology, I’m not here to make you question the love, or emotions you do or don’t feel,” the class laughs at this. The class with the exception of you. “But I am here to make you better writers. And one skill that you can have as a writer, a creative, or fiction writer especially, is building a connection with your characters. You’re going to be working on their, the character you’re outlining, story for the next few months. And when I read your work I want to be able feel the connection you have with them.”

She waits for it to sink in before continuing. “So I ask again: Do you love the muse you’ve chosen, or do you love the idea of them? Because loving someone and loving the idea of them are two completely different things. To love an idea of someone or something is to love it in a very surface level and/or superficial way. Still with me?” she questions.

You are, but you wish you weren’t. You think you’re going to be sick.

“Good, so as I was saying. It’s superficial. To be blunt, you love them for what they could be not for what they really are. As writers, many of us are guilty of this.”

The thing about being a hopeless romantic is that you think about life in could be’s.

“To truly love someone or something is to know all the little details about them, their virtues and their flaws. The reason why they prefer winter to spring. How old they were when they got their heartbroken for the first time. When they figured out who they are as a person, or if they are still searching. I asked those questions at the beginning of class to get you thinking.”

Your hands are starting to tremble just a little. Words on your paper coming out sloppy. You do love Carlos.

Your professor takes a deep breath, flips to another slide. “How can you expect to love the character when you don’t even truly love who they are modeled after?”

The room is quiet for a second. Someone raises their hand.

“Isn’t it possible for characters to change as you write them? Like I can’t change my person, but I can change my character, like write them the way I want so that I end up loving them.”

Your professor laughs again, light and airy as if she expected someone to ask. “Ah, yes. Character development is a thing of course. Although this is something that happens naturally throughout the story. But to change your character, like how you described?” she shakes her head and tsks, “Is it really love if you have to change them?”

The sound of your paper crumpling is blaring in the quiet room. You pull out a new sheet, writing your sister’s name at the top. Her favorite color is green, her birthday is July 8th, she’s closer to your dad because you and your mom have always had a bond she couldn’t recreate with her, she’s the hero in the story, not the love interest like Carlos was… The lecture continues, and you don’t even notice when the bell rings, too busy thinking about how you do love Carlos.

~~~

Carlos’s playing the newest version of Final Fantasy on his PS, the one you got him for Valentine’s day just a few days ago. You remembered him passively saying that he hadn’t played since he was little, and how he said he missed racing the chocobo’s.

His eyes flicker between his tv and you walking around his room. You’ve been to his apartment many times, but still, you always move around and take everything in like it’s your first time there; your fingers running over his manga collection in the corner, tidying up his desk, lighting the linen candle you brought from your place.

‘A gentle smell’ you had told him with a sweet smile, ‘because you’re sensitive to certain scents.’

He gets distracted, the pleated skirt you’re wearing catching his eye even more than the improved graphics of the game. He doesn’t quite hear you when you speak up.

“Huh?” he asks, dragging his gaze up your body only to be met with a knowing look of your own. He smiles sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, before taking a seat in his computer chair, not too far from his bed where he’s sat. Flipping through one of his tattoo sketchbooks you ask again, “What’s your favorite color?”

Carlos isn’t surprised when you decide to make conversation. Before you started wandering around his room, you were on the bed with him while he played but you were a little fidgety and fussy, like you had something on your mind. He suspected you got up to try and distract yourself from your thoughts.

He hums and tells you that it’s black, maybe red.

You ask his birthday next. He tells you September 1st.

Adjusting himself against the headboard of his bed, he opens for you when you make your way to him, crawling across his duvet. You take it upon yourself to settle between his thighs, back against his chest. He wraps his arms around you and continues to play, his chin resting atop your head. He smiles to himself when he feels you start to trace the stars on his arm.

“Are you close to your parents?” you question again.

He makes a small pondering noise. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Uh- they worked a lot I guess and-” He pauses. You don’t sound like you’re prying, just soft curiosity lacing your tone, but he still hesitates. “Why are you asking?”

You hum and lean up a little to peck at the line of his jaw. He purrs at the contact, content. “Just wondering,” you state, pressing back into his chest.

It’s quiet for a bit, you annoyingly plucking at the little bit of arm hair he has, making him laugh and playfully scold you, nuzzling into you and nipping at your cheek in retaliation. You giggle and he gets that sharp feeling in his chest, just like he always does.

He thinks that’s the end of your questioning but too soon, you speak up again. “Do you prefer Winter or Spring?”

“Winter, but my favorite season is Fall,” he says glancing down at you quickly before redirecting his attention to his game again. “You’re being weird, are we playing 20 questions or something? No, I’m not a virgin. What color panties are you wearing?” he asks, trying to make a joke.

He chuckles when you lift your skirt to check before flipping it down again. “Pink,” you reply.

You’re about to talk again but he interrupts you, “Wait let me see, I didn’t get a good look.”

He hears you huff and can imagine you rolling your eyes as you do what he asks. You put it down again after a few seconds.

“Just a little longer,” he tries.

“Ugh, can you stop,” you say, a giggle leaking into the words, “I’m trying to talk to you!”

He groans over dramatically like he’s exhausted, but he gives in. He always does with you.

“How old were you when you lost it? Your virginity?”

The fond feeling in his chest starts to dwindle, and Carlos can feel the first little pricks of irritation poke at him as he answers your question shorter than before. “17 or 18.”

You make a small surprised noise, looking up at him shocked. “Really that old?”

He doesn’t glance back, stays focused on his game, hoping that you get the hint that he doesn’t want to ‘talk’ like this. “Yeah, I was a late bloomer and also an idiot.”

You smile at him before going back to tracing his tattoos. “I doubt you were an idiot. That was just part of your story, a little chapter in your life.”

He tenses at your words but shortly after, a lull falls into the conversation. But as soon as Carlos relaxes, a small frown takes over his face when you ask if the girl had been his girlfriend. And again, you don’t sound overbearing or anything, but he knows you can tell he’s not interested or invested in your questions. The atmosphere has shifted from pleasant and content to stiff and vexatious.

“Yup,” he says, voice taking a stern edge despite his efforts to mask it.

He feels you tense against his chest, your fingers halting on his arm. “Are you mad at me?” you ask hesitantly.

Immediately he feels bad, and sighs. “No, I’m not,” he says quietly, trying to be gentle.

But it seems you just don’t get it, because not even a few minutes later you’re asking, “How long were you together?”

And he does his best to not snap at you, but he can’t stop himself when he goes rigid behind you and his words come out harsh and scathing. “Why does it matter and why the fuck are you interrogating me all of a sudden?”

You turn around between his legs and gape at him with a shocked expression. “I’m not interrogating you? I’m literally just making conversation? Trying to get to know you better?”

“And why’s that?” he says, his tone flippant and annoyed.

You pout and furrow your brows. “Am I not allowed to get to know you?”

His jaw ticks and he casts an annoyed gaze around his room, looking anywhere but at you, as if not acknowledging the confused and hurt arch of your brow will make it go away. “You haven’t tried to in the last what? Five months?”

“Six,” you correct him quietly.

You sound unsure, like you don’t know why he’s lashing out like he is. And to be fair, it’s out of character for him, at least with you. He’s really not this cold towards you very often, almost ever.

Usually things with you both are great, easy. Fitting together in each other’s lives almost perfectly. So seamlessly they are almost completely intertwined at this point. You meeting him for his breaks at his lessening shifts at the coffee shop, him meeting you after classes when he doesn’t have work, going to each other’s places after he gets off from his apprenticeship. The parties every now and again. The tattoos.

But he supposes it’s easy to put two blank canvases together when there are no details known about either of them. That’s what he was hoping for at least.

“So am I just not allowed to?” you repeat when he stays silent.

With an irked groan he tosses his controller to the side and rubs his hands over his face, rakes them through his navy hair. “I just don’t get why you are asking in the first place.”

You regard him quietly for a moment, taking in his bored stare. He knows the disinterest in his tone is agonizingly apparent, and he knows it hurts you, just like the detached dismissal that he has ready on the tip of his tongue will. He expects you to keep pushing, to bicker with him just so he doesn’t give you the silent treatment.

He doesn’t expect you to start crawling off his bed.

He sighs and reaches out for you, getting a grip on your arm before you can get away completely. “C’mon, what are you doing? Are you mad at me now?”

“I’m not mad, I just don’t see the point in staying here if you aren’t going to talk to me.” You’re trying to sound impassive, but he can hear the hurt in your voice.

“But I am talking to you. I talk to you all the time, what do you mean?” He hates that he almost sounds like he’s whining, but he just doesn’t understand and he’s frustrated that you are prying and making things deeper than they need to be, than they should be.

“Not about things that matter,” you reply curtly.

“But the things you’re asking about literally do not matter, ___,” he states, just as short.

You hang your head back and he can see your lashes fluttering rapidly. He knows you’re trying to not cry. Blinking to rid your eyes of unshed tears. You do that sometimes, cry when you get frustrated. As articulate as you are, sometimes things are hard to get out. You sound defeated and disheartened, but your words also have a hurt edge to them when you say, “They matter to me, anything that has to do with you matters to me.”

He knew you were close to tears, but when you look at him with glossy eyes, he softens almost instantly.

“Baby,” he coos, sighing again as he tugs you back to between his legs, back to his chest like when the conversation first started. He wraps his arms around you and kind of sways a little as he pecks your hair. “I just don’t think it’s important. Like the past is the past, and that’s it, you know?”

He knows you’re pouting, and your voice is short and whiny when you insist, “I just want to know.”

He hangs his head back and knocks it lightly against his headboard, trying to be patient with you. “It wasn’t like a bad relationship or anything like that but I just-”

“Does it still bother you?”

“No, but it’s still something I’d rather not think or talk about,” he’s talking to you slowly, like a child.

You’re quiet for some time, but Carlos just waits, knows you have more questions.

It’s tentative and rushed when you speak again. “Was she your only girlfriend? If it wasn’t a bad relationship, why did you break up with her?”

He takes a deep breath, actively trying to not be short with you. “She was the only serious one, and she broke up with me. Nothing really happened.” He shrugs, tone getting softer as he speaks. “Just the stereotypical case of unreciprocated love, or like one person just not feeling it anymore.”

“So you loved her?” It asked so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear you over the chimes of his game still playing in the background, forgotten and now sound tracking the trepid atmosphere around you.

He doesn’t verbally reply, just nods. He knows you’ll feel the movement.

It hurts him when you go still in his hold. Like you didn’t want that to be the answer. You recover quickly, however, inquiring him again. “Did she break your heart?”

He can’t help but laugh a little behind you, the words sounding far too dramatic for him. “Yeah I guess so?” he answers, “But it wasn’t like traumatizing if that’s what you’re thinking. I just cared for her more than she cared about me in the end. That’s how it always is, right?” He pauses, hums like he’s thinking. “Plus she was the first girl I was with, blah blah blah, you know how the story goes.”

You make a confused noise in front of him like you’re trying to understand and wrap your head around what he just said. “Did that really not affect you at all?”

You’re probably wondering why he is the way he is, if his first heartbreak isn’t his anti-commitment origin story. He doesn’t blame you.

Jeongg thinks about his words for a second. He’s not lying. It wasn’t traumatizing. Maybe it did change him, how he views things, people, love. But it wasn’t tragic. He just kind of became this way as he got older. He has no real backstory for why he is the way he is, why he loves to be loved but will never love in return. Not in the way the other person deserves, at least. Even if he wanted to, he never would. Because as selfish as it is, the one thing he craves more than love, than anything, is his freedom. And in his head he can’t have it all.

And maybe that is tragic in a sense, but he’s never really thought of it as a bad thing. Knows that sometimes in order to have something he wants, he has to give up something else.

“I mean… I see love differently now. I don’t know if my viewpoint changed because of the break up or just because I got older and realized what’s important to me, but I probably used to think about love closer to the way you do… head in the clouds,” he nudges you playfully, like he’s trying to lighten the mood, “too much faith in people. A top tier romantic and the number one idealist.”

He knows it’s hard to picture. But he was more like you than he would care to admit. Maybe that’s why he’s so much more careful with you. Because he knows.

“How do you see love now?”

Sometimes Carlos thinks he’s heartless. But when you ask him questions like that, the kind that you already know the answer to, but ask anyway, hoping that he will tell you something different, tell you what you want to hear… He knows he’s not because his heart aches in his chest.

He knows he’s not heartless, because he does his best to be soft with you, to make whatever this is between you both, as painless as possible. And that’s why he never lies to you about this kind of stuff, because he knows if he did, it would hurt so much more later. And he doesn’t want that. Carlos is selfish with you, but he never wants to hurt you.

“You know how I see it, ___,” he murmurs softly, like he’s trying to be gentle. Almost like he’s reminding you. “Why are you asking questions that you know are going to-”

Hurt you.

He doesn’t say it, because he doesn’t need to. He knows you know that’s what he means.

He feels bad when you start to backtrack. “No, no. I’m not. It’s okay…” you rush out as you shift onto your knees and face him again, hands coming up to cup his face. “Thank you for telling me,” You kiss him gently, hands squeezing, thumb rubbing over the scar on his cheek. You’re too soft, too good for someone like him. “I’m sorry for being nosy, I was just curious.”

His hands on your hips squeeze, and he pulls you closer, brushes his nose against yours before he kisses you. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for getting upset just-” he breathes hot and sharp against your lips, “Kiss me.”

Falling into each other after moments like these is easy. It’s been happening more lately, rough talks turning into rough touches. But again, it’s just so simple. It’s easy to stop the fights and the questions with his lips against yours, it’s easy to forget the things he does behind your back when he has you on yours beneath him, and it’s easy to pretend like that’s all there is. Just you and him. Two parts of the same star you might say.

But even though it’s simple, Carlos still wonders how long easy will be enough.

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part 3 will not take as long as part 2 did cause i just need to write a little bit more until im done. i hope u guys are loving it so far. if u do dont forget to like a reblog <3

#carlos sainz #charles leclerc #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x oc #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #scuderia ferrari #cs55 #cs55 x reader #smut #fluff #formula 1

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offbrandkyoya · 10 months

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81 masked singer

previous | masterlist | next

It’s time. The concert is here.

Thankfully, Thoma ended up getting better and was okay to go. You still felt terrible and told him you’d do anything for him. Thoma denies your request but you told him to think about it. He’s too sweet.

Although because of Thomas stomach ache, you guys were a little late and were stuck in this awful long line. The three of you wait with your tickets safe in your purse. You were super anxious, not because of seeing your friends but confronting your boyfriend. You said all those things that you were scared of what’s going to happen. You love him so much. You can’t lose him.

The line gets shorter and shorter but your nerves grew and grew. Finally, it’s your turn and the three of you hand in your tickets. The person collecting the tickets notices you and says, “Good luck.” Eyeing you up and down. That made your nerves grow worse. Thoma slams his hand on the counter with a glare. “Say something like that again and I’ll stuff those tickets down your throat.”

You guys walked off and you thanked Thoma. You felt even more indebted to him. Thoma was able to get you guys front seats at the pit and that made you anxious. You were going to see Scaramouche face to face. You take in a deep breath. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.’ As it starts to fill in, the more anxiety surfaced you. You stand in the middle of the boys for protection. You would feel someone bump into you and Thoma would put his arm in between you and that person with Albedo scooting closer to you. This all made you smile.

They’re such great friends. You really don’t deserve them. Suddenly, music starts to blast and everyone starts screaming. ‘It’s starting.’ You gulp and grasp onto your purse strap. You don’t even know what’s louder. The crowd or the music. Out comes Venti from the side and everyone screams louder. “Hello hello everyone!” He waved but with no microphone. He’s basically straining his voice for them.

“It’s so nice to see you all! Todays our last day and we hope that we were able to fill you all with such joy!” He praised and blew a kiss. He scans around as he continues to speak and then he notices you. You freeze up and shyly wave. Venti grins and waved back before turning his attention back to the audience. “Now, it’s time to introduce everyone!” More screams.

Albedo covers his ears and so do you. Thoma wanted to ask if you were all okay but he highly doubt you’d hear. You only did it so you could calm yourself and focus. You wanted to prepare yourself for- “And here comes the newest but most popular member, Scaramouche!” Venti calls and your boyfriend enters. He waved with a small smile. “Hello everyone!” He shouts and they all respond with yells.

You watch him and think. ‘Please don’t notice me.’ Unfortunately for you, God wasn’t on your side. Scaramouche glances down at the front and he freezes. He sees you and you knew that. You felt like crying as memories of what you said get in your head. Scaramouche didn’t smile or frown. His face was blank. He continues to stare at you then look away to stand next to Kazuha. You felt like crying.

After the introductions, they began to sing. To be honest, the songs made you feel better. You noticed Thoma and Albedo enjoying themselves and that made you happy. You cheered to the songs and forgot all about your worries. You didn’t notice Scaramouche gain a small smile once he saw you enjoying yourself. You sang along and that made the boys laugh. You’ve been a fan since forever so they weren’t surprised. You even forced them to sing with you. Albedo and you watch Thoma in awe since he has such a good singing voice.

“Thoma, I think I just fell in love with you!” Albedo jokes and you guys laugh. So much time passed but it felt so short to you. You didn’t want the fun to end. The last song plays and everyone claps and cheers. However, Scaramouche takes a step forward to the front of the stage. “I’m sorry but there is one more song.” Everyone gasps in shock. You look at your band friends and even they were confused. “It’s something I worked on my own.” Scaramouche continues. “I hope that…it goes through your hearts.” He takes a step back and starts to sing.

Everyone listens in shock. The guys stand, minus Xiao, and watch Scaramouche sing this mysterious song. It almost sounds like a love song. You gasp as you listen to lyrics closely. This song is basically yearning for love. You know it’s about you. He’s using art analogies and it gets to you. “Throughout all the paintings in the scene.” He sings. “You’re the most beautiful one I’ve seen.”

Once the songs over, everyone begins to mumble. “So it’s true? Scaramouche has a girlfriend?” “Who is it? “Who could it be?” “Is it someone we know?” “Is it a fan?” Suddenly, you gets up on the stage with everyone gasping. Scaramouche looks at you in surprise and you head straight to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. Everyone yells in shock. Scaramouche places his hands on hips as he kisses you. You pull away with tears falling down your face. Scaramouche smiles. “I love you, Yn.” He says, loud enough for everyone to hear.

You cry even more and hug him tight. “I love you too, Scaramouche!” You both hug each other after missing the other for so long. You’re finally reunited again. “What is this?!” The manger comes on stage and Scaramouche quickly pulls you behind him. “Scaramouche, I can’t believe you’re dating someone! That someone being Yn!” “So what?” Scaramouche growls. “I love them and you can’t stop me from seeing them!” “Oh, yes I can! If you continue to see them then-“ “What? I’m fired?” He shoots back.

The manger growls and you grab onto your boyfriends shirt in fear. “You shouldn’t talk back to me.” “Or what? What’re you doing to do huh?!” “I gave you an opportunity!” “An opportunity?! I don’t even know how you found me!” Suddenly, she grins almost in a sinister way. “I had help of course.” Scaramouche looks taken aback. “Help?” “Uh huh.” She nods. “I’m sure you’ve heard..” She takes a step forward. “About the singer who disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Venti gasps with eyes wide. The crowd whisper and mumble. All Thoma and Albedo could do is watch as well. “What about it?” Scaramouche asks, still holding you from behind. “There’s a story.” She starts. “A story that she was from a group with two other people.” She eyes Venti and he looks away in response. “They were a good group. They shined bright and were insanely popular. They were a hit! Until, unfortunate events happened.” She shrugs. “I don’t know the entire details but the singer left and they split up.” “So?” “So what happened to the singer?” She asks out loud and Scaramouche shrugs.

“Why’d she leave? You should know.” Scaramouche doesn’t say a word. “It turns out, she was going to have a baby.” Scaramouche stands still, his heart starts to beat fast. “But she didn’t want it.” Her smile turned to a frown. “That baby ruined her career and eventually, she left him. She left him all alone. Poor thing.” Scaramouche starts to breathe heavily and you get out from hiding. “Scara!” You hold his arms.

Thoma gasps and covers his mouth. “No way..” “Thoma?” Albedo looks at him in worry. “No wonder he looked familiar…he’s…” The manager smiles again. “That singer was Ei. Your mother.” Scaramouche gasps. “She helped me find you so that you can gain your confidence again.” Scaramouche faces down as he trembles in fear. “No…thats…” “I told you that telling him that story was unnecessary. Scaramouche’s heart drops. He knows that voice all too well. Slowly, he looks up and to his horror, it’s Ei.

She looks down on him and he can’t tell what face she’s making. His head is hurting and his vision is starting to blur. Suddenly, all the memories flood his mind. Memories he’s forgotten. His legs gives out and he falls to his knees, holding himself in fear. “Get out.” He speaks softly. “Get out. Leave me alone. Leave me alone!” He shouts as he starts to hyperventilate. Tears are in your eyes as you kneel down next to him. “Scara! It’s going to be okay!” You try to comfort him.

You glance at his so called mother. Ei looks away and walks backstage with the manager. Venti growls, “Ei is sitll the same bitch as ever.” He says and goes to the front of the stage. “Please everyone, head on out! This is a private matter.” He instructs security to usher the people out. “Yn!” You look at the crowd as Thoma and Albedo call for you. You bit your lip. “I’ll find you guys!” You shout at them and they nod in understanding.

You start to full on cry and Aether kneels next to you. “Yn, he’s going to be okay.” You sniffle and watch Venti try to talk Scaramouche out of it. You reach for your boyfriends hand and place a small kiss onto his knuckles. “Scaramouche, listen to my voice.” You croak. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I wish I could’ve done more. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough for you.” You cry harder and sob onto his back, gripping onto his hands. Aethers frown wobble since he wants to cry too.

Scaramouche gains a bit of sense once he realizes you’re crying. “Yn…” He mumbled, taking in deep breaths. You sit up right and pull him in for a hug. “I’m here.” You sniffle and Scaramouche feels tears arrive in his eyes too. He grips onto you right and holds you almost as if you’re going to slip away from him.

“I’m scared.” He tells you finally in between sobs and you can’t helped but cry with him. “I know. I’m sorry.” You held onto each other like you were going to lose one another again.

- yk I actually have someone in mind for the next smau

- it’s a secret 🫡

- but ofc if there’s anyone u want me to do I’ll do it 😋

- um anyways

- ei is here idk

- the Scaramouche lore is strong or something

🏷️ @sakiimeo @coquettemaiden @rmiyuki @kur44pika @theblueblub @jxxji0309 @dreamsofminnie @ohmyfinggod @redactedhimbo @kunisbeloved @akagism2 @sketcheeee @thefandomcrow @beriiov @thenightsflower @yukiipc @scaraapologist @scarletttcroww @samyayaya @crucnhice @monaypo1 @feiherp @myaaones @warcelia @hangecanweholdhands @yuminako @valiryyz @screechingxiaolover @tiddieshakeshownu @ilovechuuyaa @d4y-dr3am3r @dazaisfavgf @swivy123 @ganyusbrideee @sagegreenthinks @the-left-glove @wonderland-fan @kylexzz @kaoyamamegami @whycantscarabereal @rvoulte @eunchaeluvr @lxkeeeee @silvermah @baby-bread-in @yelleloww @magica-ren @itzblazekun @im-inlovewithy0u @featuredtofu @anastaxiah @ask-aph-tanzania @drmyday @what-just-happened-huh @xtobefreex @v4lerixxq @duckyyyx @hannoahs-third-eyelash @brain-r0tt @iota1111 @accio-fandom @kaitfae

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madreemeritus · 2 months

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Love Never Dies slander because I can (it's ok if you like the show, I'm just giving my personal opinion)

The wasted potential of Love Never Dies haunts me.

Because a sequel to the musical is not a bad idea, actually. But writing an adaptation of "Phantom of Manhattan" (very famous for being horribly written) was definitely a terrible one.

Andrew basically wrote a bad E/C fanfiction that ignores completely Erik's redemption (and obviously, his past terrible actions) and Christine's arc of empathy and indepedence. Meg Giry and her mother became villains for some reason? And they have the worst swerfy slutshaming against Meg, really disgusting. Gustave is a useless character, he only exists to bring Erik and Christine together (Beneath a Moonless Sky woulndt exist without him, I don't know if that's a bad or a good thing). And, even though I heavily dislike Raoul, I agree that it's pathetic what they did to him. Raoul became an alcoholic caricature of himself that mistreats both Christine and his son for no reason other to make Erik look better. Again, I don't like Raoul, I also think he's toxic and he could be portrayed REALISTICALLY as a bad husband. But not like that lol

And, like. What is the purpose of erasing Erik's redemption and giving him Christine's (and Gustave's) love as a prize if you make him even worse? This Erik abandoned Christine after FUCKING HER. He and Raoul make a bet over owning Christine like if she is some kind of object. This Erik is horrible to Giry, which makes no sense, he even creates a freakshow and exploits disabled people??? Literally what has done to him in the past??? Also, Erik being a rich business man with little to no social struggles is so ridiculously out of character lol. "Mister Y" doesn't act like Erik himself.

The ending is straight up bullshit. It's too ridiculous and irritating to be tragic. Christine has absolutely no agency in LND, her entire arc is choosing between her boring alcoholic husband or the teacher that abandoned her after fucking her 10 years ago (not to mention that Erik's past mistakes, like, idk, maybe KIDNAPPING HER, killing Piangi and Buquet, is not even mentioned. No one remembers that). And then she sings a pretty song, chooses Erik, and dies. Wow. Amazing. She dies by accident by the way, because Meg shot her... unintentionally? Depending on the actress, I think. I won't even talk too much about Meg's character assassination because it just frustates me. "Oh the deranged sex worker that is punished with abandonment and pain by the end". Ugh.

The songs are amazing though. This I can't deny, even like, Bathing Beauty, it has nothing to do with POTO but it's a good song honestly.

Love Never Dies could be a good sequel. Erik trying to make amends for his mistakes, having terrible coping mechanism (as always), maybe they could explore his relationship with Madame Giry (even if she is depicted as a morally grey character). Christine realizing that she and Raoul were too young when they made the decision to marry, and that she has much more potential than what the victorian patriarchal society has to offer her. It could even end with E/C being canon, but like, with actual development??? Him learning how to behave apropriately, actually healing and being a better partner? (because he doesn't grow in Love Never Dies, he just gets Christine for sometime before she dies, he learns nothing, he just becomes an asshole that is portrayed as the good guy 'cause "Raoul is worse")

#love never dies #the phantom of the opera #erik #poto #broadway #christine daaé #e/c #erik/christine #raoul de chagny #christine/raoul #e/r #also alw lost the oportunity to make the story gayer but i guess that's just me #it would so good to see alw erik having a little gay panic sometimes

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buttercream-princess · 1 year

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Playing The Game

Summary: Y/K and Dean have been secretly enjoying a friends-with-benefits arrangement for some time now, relishing in the pleasure and excitement that it brings. But when Dean unexpectedly reveals his feelings about someone else while under the influence, Y/K is left reeling and wondering where their relationship truly stands. Y/K must decipher between her newfound emotions and unspoken desires what she really wants: lust or love?

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Whole lotta’ ANGST, little bit of fluff, swearing, sexual objectification kink, SMUTTY AF, unprotected sex, quickie, public sex, unholy dirty talk, NSFW, interactive

DISCLAIMER: Every original Harry Potter characters in this story is 21+. My Hogwarts stories are always and only written as a university universe with grown ass characters.

Notes: This one has been sitting in the drafts for awhile. I’m thinking of turning it into a 5 part series because I’m too attached to this Dean at this point (Just like Y/K lol) - he’s so cheeky, I love it!

*Gifs and images were not created by and do not belong to me. All rights go to owners and creators!!

(Not edited | proof-read)

_______________________

You sleepily reach for your phone underneath your pillows and sit up against the bed frame.

You check your notifications; still no text from Dean.

Tired and irritated, you let out a groan of frustration and slump back underneath your covers. All you could think was how much you missed him, it was an unfamiliar feeling borderlining on uncomfortable. You never ached for a response from him, since you always had access to him. You were each other's person, but that now seemed called off. It felt almost unfair how easily he was going on with life without you.

It was a long night of tossing and turning, you were unable to get any sleep. Once the birds began their routine songs at dawn, you knew there was no point in trying to get some shut eye, class begins in a few hours.

You couldn’t even think about studying today, you were bitter and strung up. It was all his fault. If he just reached out to you, that would’ve put your racing thoughts at bay. At this point, even an emoji text would’ve been fine. But no, he was radio silent.

Your argument aside, Dean ghosting you was so out of character for him. Dean always made sure to check in with you, you guys were basically joined at the hip. You and Dean have been good friends since your first week at Hogwarts University. You took up the Magical Fine Arts class as an elective in the 1st year. It was Dean who asked you to be his model for the end of year project, to which you agreed to and along the way, you found yourself spending more time with him than you were studying. Dean was funny, charming and adventurous, just your kind of fun. It seemed he had a strong liking for you too because over time, the two of you were inseparable; wherever you saw him, you were always by his side and vice versa.

But over the last summer, your relationship with him developed into something more physical. It started platonic and friendly but as the semesters passed, your body couldn’t deny his sex appeal anymore. One night at your studio dorm after 2 and a half bottles of red wine, you were both wasted and bonding over your love of muggle music since the both of you were half-blood. That night you went from bestfriends to lovers in private and there was no looking back.

You both agreed to keep it under wraps in consideration of not rocking the boat that was your friend group with Blaise, Lee and Alicia. The odds of awkwardly tinting the group dynamic with your situationship was too much to take a chance on. So for the sake of secrecy, all emotions and entanglements was off the table. It kept your friendship balanced. It was simple and you liked it that way.

As for Dean in the bedroom, he’s incredibly cocky and is well aware of the power he has over you. Although you’ve never casually talked about your attraction to him, he remembers every moan and moment of begging that left your mouth while he turned you out. He always finds a way to remind you just how needy you are for his dick. Most late nights you’d get a text from him, saying, “Can’t sleep. Come over.” and you already knew what time it was the second you got the notification.

Hooking up with him had become a weekly - almost daily ritual so you didn’t usually approach Dean for sex but by now it had been close to three weeks since your last conversation with him and you were almost feral for his face between your legs. He would never go this long without asking you to come over, it was so unlike him.

There was once a whole month where you couldn’t get off eachother. You’d get a quickie in before and between classes, in any private room you could find in the castle. The astronomy tower, the room of requirement, the House Elves restroom. Even in Filch’s office once, which you left in absolute shambles, even staining his desk with dry cum - from the both of you. It was hysterical when he reported the scene in the great hall during dinner. You and Dean forced back fits of giggles with mouths full of food, knowing it was you two who defiled his office while everyone else in the hall was completely oblivious. Sneaking around with him had its benefits, one of them being you had a massive secret that only you and Dean shared, as if it was an inside joke that only you and your favorite person knew the origin of. You could call it special. Sure, hiding the truth sometimes felt like a burden but most times it felt electrifying.

While Dean was AWOL, something fierce was brewing in you this morning. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you were edging on desperation. You were fine with not hearing from him the first couple of days, you figured he was just busy. But once you saw him actively going out his way to dodge you, that was all your mind needed to start jumping to conclusions.

Why was he ghosting you? Did he not wanna hook up anymore? And if so, why?

You blankly stare at your phone while your mind wanders off and pictures all kinds of scenarios for his weird behavior.

You recall the last time the two of you spoke, a late night from a few weeks ago….

________________________________________________________

3 Weeks Ago…

Everyone had just sat the OWLS exams and it was finally done with. This year's OWLS was making up for 40% for your final grade of the semester, the stakes were high. It even ripped Granger a new one. And if Miss Know It All is anxious about a test, you should be terrified. Which of course, everyone was.

Yet somehow you came out the other side of the exam alive, along with your friends, and what better way to celebrate the end of a stressful and anxiety producing test than to get absolutely wasted?

That’s exactly what you and your friends did. Lee and Alicia went off to Hogsmeade bar to celebrate, but you, Dean and Blaise was too tired from a long day of studying to make the trek to town so the three of you shared a bottle of Don Julio in the Griffindor dorm kitchenette. The night was still young and you spent it vibing to music, taking shots and swapping scandalous stories that were only for your friends group ears. It was always good times when you linked with Thomas and Zabini, the three of you were the bestest of bestfriends. You all just naturally clicked with each other and could yarn for hours, which was something worth looking forward to in your day. The night was going good and your stomach was in pain from how much the boys made you laugh, but along the way, the three of you landed on a subject that would change the trajectory of your relationship with Dean…for the better and worse.

“Can we please talk about Fred and Angela? I’ma be all the way real, Fred is punching hardddd man.” Dean exclaims.

Blaise lets out an annoyed moan and perks up from the bench, throwing his hands in the air.

“Finally somebody fucking said it!”

You smirk and raise your glass. Angela Johnson is an etheric goddess walking amongst mere wizards and witches. And Fred is…well, he’s Fred Weasley. Nuff’ said.

“Right?! I’ll bloody drink to that.” You throw back the rest of your mug only to have a few drops hit your tongue. Time for a top up. You scoot off the kitchen top and walk to the fridge, getting some soda to mix with your tequila.

“Look, I love Fred. He’s my best mates brother, Maker bless Ron - the little shit. But how Fred even got a chance with Angie? That’s surely one of Hogwarts greatest mysteries and this school’s packing loads of them cunts.” Dean voices.

You chuckle while fixing yourself a drink, listening in on the boys being messy.

“I’m saying, like? He don’t even know what to do with that, he can’t handle all that.” Blaise says, reeking of jealousy. It was hilarious, you couldn’t hold back the giggles.

“No Weasley can handle a baddie, let alone a black goddess like Angela.” You chime in.

“Exactly. He needs to go for someone like Luna or Pansey, someone in his lane! No offense to them but that’s more Fred’s avenue. Not Angelina Johnson for Merlin's sake!”

You gasp, followed by a chortle. The gossiping behaviour between these two grown ass men was worse than you thought.

“Oh my god Blaise! I know you did not just say that! Not too much on Luna now, that’s my girl. I love that little weirdo.” You insert, jokingly death staring down Zabini. He stares back at you with knitted brows, challenging you. After a few seconds, he blinks and child-like laughter echoes throughout the kitchen from the three of you, laughing at the silly game.

Then Dean loudly clears his throat.

“No but listen, on the topic of Angie…I mean, shiettt, put me in coach. I can handle that.” Dean lowly blurts amongst the laughing.

Silence falls in the room, especially from you. You go mute, processing what he just said.

Blaise snorts.

“I mean you know what I mean? She need someone equipped for the job.”

Blaise daps Dean up in agreement. Both the boys cackle.

Your eyes unintentionally squint and you clench your grip on the bottle of liquor, completely thrown off guard by Dean’s comment. He sure knew how to get a raise out of you. You could hear he was joking, but still, your body reacted on its own accord, knotting up your stomach. You loudly puff out a sigh and plop the bottle back on the bench with a bang.

“Fuck, that was loud. My bad.” You stifly apologize.

“You’re alright.” Dean replies.

“You were saying?” You ask, then clear your throat.

Of course you didn’t want him to. But a sabotaging part of you wanted to see how far he’d take it.

“Look, Angela’s a ten outta ten. Peng as fuck, her body is crazy, and she’s got great banter. I’m first in line when she drops the dead weight that Fred is.”

Wow. He’s playing with fire. You couldn’t believe he’d froth over Angela like that right in front of you. It stinged to say the least.

The two boys cheer glasses and talk more about their thoughts on the couple.

You stir your drink, quietly wheezing to yourself hysterically. Nothing about what Dean said was funny to you, you just couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of him gawking over Angela whilst you were in the room, drunk or not.

Dean glances over to you with the utmost cheeky smirk, cocking up a brow. He was doing it on purpose and it was some kind of emotional torture he wanted to commit to you.

Why was he doing it? What is he getting out of this shit? you thought.

A smug look was locked on his face as he listened to Blaise carry on, but his gaze was focused on you. He watched you closely, seeing if he’d you’d give him any reaction at all, all while stifling back chuckles. Your silent rage of envy was amusing to him it seemed.

As Dean's eyes lingers on you, you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and anger. You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. You remind yourself that this is just Dean being his usual flirtatious self and that he probably didn't mean anything by it. But it still hurts and there was no refusing that.

You take a long sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself from the uncomfortable tension in the air. Soon the boys stop talking and you can feel Blaise and Dean's eyes on you, waiting for a response. But you don't give them the satisfaction. Instead, you change the subject.

"Talking about the Twins, did you guys hear about the prank that the twins pulled on Filch last week? Filch went off his head, it was hilarious!"

Blaise and Dean both laugh, relieved that the tension has been broken. They eagerly listen as you recount the details of the prank, and soon enough, everyone is laughing and joking again.

The rest of the night you barely spoke. You chuckled here and there, showing face in front of Blaise. But you were distracted, lost in intrusive thoughts. You couldn’t shake off Dean’s opinions about Angela. You were salty as fuck, so by the time it hit 2AM, you bowed out.

“As much as I’d love to stay up with you guys, I need to sleep. OWLS kicked my ass. I will see you wonderful people tomorrow.” You slide off the bench and grab the Tequila.

“Yeah shit, it’s almost 3. I’ll head too.” Dean checks his phone and stands up.

“Fair. But first, cuddle before bedtime.” Blaise drunkenly pulls you into a tight hug and pecks the top of your head. Blaise is the biggest softy, you had no idea how he was sorted into Slytherin.

“Okayyy mummy. Night Blaisey. Love ya” You tease, squeezing your arms around him.

“Night bub. Love you too.”

You pull away and head for the dorm hallway. The two boys hang back and say their goodbyes. You soon hear Dean catch up behind you, following you to the dorms. It was a quiet stroll to the rooms. There were many things you wanted to say but your pride had a tight muzzle on your mouth.

Dean breaks the silence, “He’s a good one, that Blaise.”

“Yeah, he’s the best. Love him.”

The rest of the way to your room was silent. You pass the corridor to the men’s dorm but he stays on your route, following you to the women's dorms.

You scoff.

If he thinks he’s getting some tonight, he’s got you all the way fucked up. You don’t mention him following you though, you figured you’d pop off at him in the room. And boy, was he in for a storm.

Dean laughs, catching your attitude. But he doesn’t say a word because he knew you wouldn't turn him away, you never do. Usual overconfident Dean behavior.

You were steaming all the way up to your door. Your blood wasn’t boiling, it was burning. You were contemplating blowing your cool and letting him have it right now and here out in the hallway. You couldn’t understand in the moment why he had you so vexed over banter but you didn’t care, you were hurting and he needed to know. But instead of blowing up on him, you decided silence was the best treatment to handle Thomas.

You huff back the emotions that were flooding to the surface, your face was heating up with rage - tears were sure to follow soon. You just needed to get inside your room before you let it all out.

You take your keys out of your jeans pocket to unlock the door and place the key to the hole but it doesn't budge. Your hands were shaking and you were on the verge of crying out of pure frustration. You already had a mountain of unexplainable feelings that was rocking your shit, this stupid key was just the cherry on top. Pursing your lips together, you swallow back the rogue wave emotions on your heart while staying faced to the door. You couldn’t let Dean see just how miserable you were over something so minor and stupid.

He closes in behind you. The warmth of his breath tickles your skin as he bends down and leans his chin in the crook of your neck.

“Give it here you goose.” He chuckles.

Taking the keys out of your hands, he unlocks and opens the door on the first try. You grumble cuss words under your breath. Even when helping you, you couldn’t stand him. Not right now, everything he did irked your soul.

You step into the apartment and head straight to your kitchen cabinet. There was a heavy weight of feelings on your chest and drinking it away was the only option. Yes, you were already drunk, but definitely not drunk enough to forget how crossed up he has you.

You slam open the kitchen cupboard door, grabbing the biggest cup you own and quickly fill it up with the Tequila in your other hand. Dean closes the door behind him and walks over to you.

“Woah there, fairy. I think the only thing you need to be drinking right now is water.”

He grabs the bottle and glass out of your hand, chucks the alcohol in your cup down the kitchen sink and fills it with water from the sink.

“Oh, so now you know what I need?”

He turns his head to you, furrowed in brows and squints his eyes. He studies your face, the way he looks at you makes you feel exposed. He knew what you were poking at, he could read every subliminal between your words.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to wake up with a hangover in the morning.”

A soft friendly smile forms on his lips, which only riles you up more. Can he not read the fucking room?

“Yeah well, maybe I like waking up with hangovers.”

He snorts and turns off the tap, walking back over to you with the glass of water.

“Maybe you do. Looks like I’m learning something new about you everyday, beautiful. Drink this.”

You place your hand on your hip and stare back at him blank in the face. You weren't doing anything he wanted you to do.

“No, you drink it. And choke for all I care.”

You turn on your heels and head to the bathroom with the bottle of Don Julio still in your hand. He chortles, amused.

“Only if you’re the one doing the choking, baby.”

You grunt at his chirpy attitude, absolutely done with how witty he is. Usually you like it, he always says the right things to make you swoon over him, but now it was just ammo to get under your skin.

You turn on the showers, letting it run hot to steam up the room. As you undressed, you couldn’t help but feel stupid for letting Dean get to you. You take a gulp from the bottle.

With every clothing piece you took off, memories of him kissing that part of your body flooded your mind, accompanied by visuals of him doing that to Angela. It was tormenting. You take another sip from the bottle.

You step under the streaming water, letting it wash over your face. Finally, the tears fall. It felt good. You knew you were crying over something so silly but you didn’t want to compartmentalise, the only way you were getting through this was by letting yourself have a sook and feel everything, something you never did when it came to Dean. Feeling anything emotional towards Dean was something you put off limits from the beginning of your situationship with him, it kept your feelings safe in case things got ugly between you two. But now you were feeling the burn of setting that rule in the first place.

As you stood under the hot water, you let your mind wander. You thought about everything that had led up to this moment. You thought about how you and Thomas had started off as friends, and how things had escalated so quickly. You thought about the passion and the intensity that you had shared, and how it had felt like nothing could ever come between the two of you.

But now, as you stood there alone, you realized that things were different. You couldn't ignore the fact that Thomas had been with other people and could be hooking up with other girls right at this moment, and that he might not have been as committed to you as you had thought, even if it was just friends with benefits. You couldn't ignore the feeling of betrayal that had been gnawing at your heart since you had found out how he felt about Angela.

When you began hooking up with Dean, you had no idea it would cause so much pent up frustration and desire in your body. Sex would help release this energy from the system, but there was an emotional side to things that had you questioning everything. Surely after some time, you began to ask yourself:

“Do I have feelings for Dean?”

Just hearing those words in your thoughts made you angry.

“Fuck!” You yell, “What is wrong with you?!” you ask yourself in frustration.

How could you let it get this far? How could you let Dean work his natural love potion on you? You thought you were better than this. Better than all the other girls who fell for his stupid addictive charm.

Three knocks tap on the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, concern in his voice.

“Yes.” You sniffle.

You see him in the reflection of the bathroom glass, taking off his clothes and shoes, all he was left in was a singlet and boxers. He walks towards you and opens the shower door and leans his arm up against the shower frame. You face towards the shower head, not giving him any form of attention.

“The waters getting out.” You protest.

“I don’t care. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hmmm.”

He pulls his singlet over his head, tossing it aside and kicks off his briefs, stepping into the shower and closing the door.

Tears were still streaming from your eyes, you stood underneath the flush of the water. You didn’t want to let him see you in tears. A few painful minutes go by and you hesitate to tell him off. Although you were mad with him, you loved sharing showers with him, it was one of the few intimate things that you did with him that wasn’t sex.

You sniffle and clear your croaky throat, it was a dead giveaway.

Dean steps closer under the water, saying a wandless spell to the soap, which placed a dollop of cleanser in his hands. He places both hands on your shoulders, lathering up and covering every inch of your body with the suds.

Dean dials down the water temperature and makes it a sweet warm stream and sways you by your waist from under the water.

He was smooth, even in instances like this. He didn’t need to use spells or charms, he just intuitively had a way with you that always got to your core. He observes you, adjusts his approach and works his magic on you.

“Y’know,” He pulls the hair in front of your face behind your neck and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, “You’re allowed to tell me when I fuck up.”

“Huh?”

“I know I said something that made you uncomfortable, you can tell me.”

You turn your head to look at him, surprised by his admission. He was usually so confident and self-assured, it was refreshing to see him vulnerable like this.

“I just don’t know what to say,” you admit, feeling ashamed of your own emotions.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he reassures you, “We both can just be silent for all I care. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, always.”

He leans in and kisses you gently on the lips, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. For a moment, you allow yourself to be held, to feel safe in his arms. But then reality hits you like a ton of bricks.

You push him away, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small shower space.

“No, you’re not here for me. That’s not what it felt like when we were with Blaise,” you accuse him, the anger rising up in your voice, “You just want to keep me around for when you’re bored or lonely. You don’t actually care about me.” you exclaim, accidentally revealing your resentment.

Dean looks hurt by your words, but he doesn’t back down.

His hand slides up from your thighs to your waist.

“I knew something was wrong. You don’t have to act with me. Just tell me what I did.” He calmly says.

His touch goes over your stomach, just above your nether regions, but he doesn’t go further, Dean knew to be gentle with you in the moment.

“Forget it. I’m just trying to shower.” You say, pulling away from his grasp, retreating back to icing him out

He goes to speak but he pauses, you could see on his face that he was calculating his next words. Lost in his thoughts, he says a spell to the body wash again and goes over his body.

You lean against the shower wall, arms crossed, bottle still in hand and looking up to the ceiling. Tears still falling from your eyes disguised as droplets of shower water.

Dean grabs the bottle from your hold and pulls you into the water with him, tilting your head up to his.

“I wasn’t born yesterday and I know you weren't either, so there’s no point in either of us playing dumb. I’m sorry– please believe me.”

You clench your jaw.

“About what?”

“What I said about Angela. It was stupid. I only said it to get a rise out of you.”

Is this shit a game to him? Your emotions just a ploy for him. And for what? Just so he can feel better about himself? You wanted to hear an apology from him but you didn’t expect it to come with the harsh reality of the situation.

“You’re right, it was stupid. I don’t care though.” You lie through gritted teeth, “What does it matter? You were only speaking your truth.”

“That’s the thing. I wasn't. I was saying all that shit just to get a reaction outta’ you and it was beyond wrong to do that. You don’t deserve that.”

You meet his eyes, he looks completely sincere and open but you quickly look away, feeling a small sob build at the bottom of your throat. The liquor had taken over your emotions and was ready to let it all pour out.

“Why Dean? What's the point?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought if I said that, you would’ve said something, anything. Maybe I just wanted to hear you claim m—”

“No, Dean. You didn’t hear me. What’s the point of us?”

He stares into both of your eyes, trying to figure you out. Under his gaze, usually you would melt but right now, all you felt was a sense of grief.

“Right…oh, righttt.” He sternly responds.

He loosens his grip on you and tilts his head, squinting his eyes and licks his bottom lip, a grim smile forms on his lips as he starts to sarcastically laugh.

“Oh. Message received.”

He leans down and places his lips on your forehead, chuckling against your skin while giving you a kiss then exiting the shower, taking no time to dry himself with the towel from the rack.

“When you’re done with whatever this is, let me know.”

You stand there, feeling a mix of confusion, anger, and desire all at once. You can hear the sound of the bathroom door closing as Dean leaves, and you're left alone in the shower, still processing everything that just happened.

You take a deep breath and turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel from the rack. You take one last chug of tequila before placing it on the sink. As you dry yourself off, you can't help but feel disappointment. You didn’t know what you wanted. You were torn between giving him the cold shoulder, letting him feel your anger or to give in, let him right his wrongs and lay up in his arms where you wanted to be.

You swipe your hand across the foggy mirror above the bathroom sink and look back at your reflection, red eyes and puffy eyelids from crying. You knew what the reasonable thing to do was but somewhere deep down, you knew this was an internal issue. You longed to be consistently chosen, whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was an inner turmoil that you had and Dean just happened to be the person who you wanted to act on it. It was unfair to him to put him in such a position without him knowing, but you wanted him to just know what you wanted and to provide it instantly. It was selfish of you but you couldn't help it.

The bitter truth stands - he’s wasn’t your boyfriend, you weren’t in a relationship with him and he wasn’t officially yours. How could you possibly ask him to do boyfriend things without actually being your man. Which posed the next question:

“Do I want to be Dean’s girlfriend?”

You wince again at the intimate ideas flooding in. But the wonder stayed with you this time, replaying back memories in your mind of Dean’s beautiful smile before he laces you with kisses all over your face. You wanted that, all the time. You wanted him all the time.

You finish drying off and walk to the bedroom, still lost in your thoughts. As you approach the bedroom door you see Dean sitting on the edge of your bed, scrolling through his phone.

He looks up as you enter the room, and his expression softens. "Hey," he says, patting the seat next to him. "Come sit."

You hesitate for a moment before taking a seat next to him. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close, and you feel a sudden rush of warmth.

"I'm sorry for how I acted in the shower. Actually I’m sorry for everything," he says, his voice gentle. "I didn't mean to upset you, I was acting out of line this whole night. I just wanted to make things right."

You turn to look at him, and his eyes meet yours. You can see the honesty in his stare, and you feel yourself start to soften. Just as you open your mouth to apologize, he speaks.

“And look, if you don’t want to be around me right now, I understand. I’ll leave-”

He goes to stand up but you pull him by the hem of his shirt. By now you were more wasted than you anticipated and didn't want to be alone with your intrusive thoughts.

“No. Stay.” You slur out.

Relieved, he sits back down and looks at you in silence for a few moments, a flicker in his eyes.

“God, look at you. You’re so cute.”

He squeezes your cheeks between his hands once before getting up from your bed and walking towards your drawers, opening them and shuffling clothes around.

“What are you doing?”

“Pyjamas. It’s time you go to bed, you.”

You giggle burp. You didn’t want to go to sleep, you still wanted to talk about your feelings to him. But for some reason you found it endearing he wanted to put you to bed without sex being in the context.

Dean picks out a set of comfy clothes and walks back over to you.

“Up.” He orders you. Your towel drops to your feet and he fits your shirt over your head then continues to dress you in your clothes.

“Somni Modus (Bedtime mode).” Dean says a wandless spell which dims the lighting, lights the candles, puffs your pillows and pulls back your covers. You crawl to your side of the bed and Dean joins you on the other side, pulling the covers over you.

He leans on a pillow and props himself up on an elbow, facing you, watching your dizzy drunk self get comfortable in bed, cuddling a small pillow. He smiles, looking at you in awe. You roll over and feel the urge to pour your heart out to him,

“I probably wouldn’t say this to you when I’m sober but I think I-”

He cuts you off.

"Darling, you’re way too intoxicated right now. I promise we can talk more when you’re in the right state of mind. Just come and find me, and I’ll listen, okay? But for now, you need some rest.”

You pout, slightly saddened. There were still some things you wanted to get off your chest. But you don’t argue with him, your eyelids was feeling heavy and the room was spinning the more you tried to stay awake.

Dean tucks you in and kisses your forehead, then heads towards the door.

As he's about to leave, you reach out and grab his hand. "Please don't go," you say, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pauses, then smiles softly and sits back down next to you, pulling you into a soft embrace. "I won't go anywhere," he says, stroking your hair, "I'll stay here with you until you fall asleep."

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

As you drift off to sleep, you realize that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay with him after all.

______________________

Currently…

That was the last you heard from Dean. Your memories of the night had a few blanks, considering how much you drank, though you definitely remember how you felt. You spent many days, wracking your brain over why the night panned out like that and why he would promise to listen to you if he was just gonna ignore you in the first place.

You decided when you fully woke up, that was it. No more using your voluptas wand (Pleasure wand) and pretending it was Dean. You needed an explanation, a good fuck and to be on talking terms again and he was the only person who could give it to you. You flicked open his school schedule on your phone, which he had previously sent you so you would know his free periods for quickies or some head in the Elf janitor closet. You two were just that ravenous for each other.

You scrolled to his classes for the day and saw that he had a morning quidditch game against Slytherin. Dean had to be already up at the field, stretching and preparing for the match, he was an early bird.

You stand up from your bed and commit to your decision. You take a brisk shower and dress for the occasion - not showing too much so it shows you mean business but leaving out a little skin for a subtle hint of slutty to show him what he's been missing. Perfect.

It was a cold lengthy walk down to the Quidditch field. No one was awake except for the winter birds, owls and the sun kissing the sky with orange hues. As you neared closer to the male Quidditch changing tent, you went over in your mind exactly what you were going to say to him.

“So, no text? No. That’s lame. Okay, so when were you gonna tell me we weren’t doing this anymore. Ew! that too mushy for 5AM in the morning ,Y/K.” You thought to yourself.

Every sentence that came to conception only made you sound needy and that you wanted him more than you were willing to let him know. But you missed him badly, and you wanted him again for crying out loud! it was the truth. Him finding this out was a risk you were gonna have to take.

You stop out the front of the tent opening and release a big heavy sigh.

“Here goes nothing.”

You lift up the material of the tents doors and see the man of the hour. Butterflies swarm your insides. This had to be the first time you’ve ever felt anxious around him.

“Dean?”

He pauses his stretching and turns around. His beautiful cinnamon brown eyes travel from your legs, up to your eyes. He starts walking over to you with rush in his step.

“Right, so I don’t what’s happening between us but I–”

“Well, look who decided to come around.” He finally speaks.

Dean grabs your face into the palm of his hands and pulls you into a haste kiss. His tongue took no time finding yours. The tense from your body drops as you find yourself seeping into his pull, right where you want to be.

The feel of lips and touch felt like feeding an addiction you’ve been weaned off for eons and you’re getting a much needed hit again. But you still had questions. You pull from his kiss and ask away.

“First of all, why didn’t you hit me up? And ignoring me?”

“I was waiting.”

“For?”

“For when you’d make the first move.”

Your mouth opens wide as it forms into a smirk. From the sounds of it, he wanted to be chased by you. So the man has emotional needs and wants besides getting a load off. Who knew?

“Dean Thomas playing the waiting game? Seriously?”

“Oh shut up. I missed you.” he gives you another deep kiss then comes up, “That’s the last time I’m waiting for you to make the call. You almost drove me mad, woman.” his hands slides underneath your skirt and palms your ass cheek in his hand.

You press your body up against his, feeling his member already bricked up. And just like that, gasoline was thrown into the fiery tension between you two like it never left and it felt like pure electricity.

“Please tell me you didn’t jerk off. I want you at your best.”

“Like I said, I was waiting for you. Nothing can satisfy me the way you do.” He says, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites.

You moan in response, feeling the heat rising between your legs. You pull him closer, your hands gripping his biceps tightly.

“We’re gonna need to have a serious talk but I need this first.” You breathe out as your hand slips down to his 9 inch member over his shorts while his hands explore your body.

“Of course. We can talk things over. Do me a favor first, pretty girl? bend over.” He takes your hand, spinning you around and positions you over the stacked bat trunk. You oblige to his request and bend over the case, exposing all of your sex to him.

Dean wastes no time, pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, revealing your wetness. He smirks at the sight, knowing he's the only one who can make you this soaked. He takes a moment to appreciate the view before teasingly running a finger over your folds, making you gasp.

“Please, Dean. Don't tease me. It’s been too long, I can’t wait anymore” You moan out, your body trembling with need.

He chuckles and slides a finger inside of you, pumping it slowly. He adds another finger, hitting all the right spots. He was pumping your pleasure button to new highs, making you buck back against his long strong fingers. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body starts to shake.

“Dean baby, I'm gonna cum.” You whimper out, unable to hold on any longer, and just before you feel the eruption of bliss, he pulls out.

He places a kiss on the back of your neck, “Wait for me baby. I know you miss it.”

And just like that, Dean’s Gryffindor jersey shorts and briefs drop to his ankles, you feel his member hot and hard rubbing against your ass cheeks. He takes his time and slides the tip down between your cheeks, against your asshole, to your hungry flesh. He pushes in slowly and immediately you feel the evidence of his absence. His size hurt like hell but it hurt so good, it already sent you over the edge into climax.

“You kept it nice and tight for me baby, hmmm?”

He dips in deeper, filling you up wholly, hitting your pleasure spot at the back of your pussy, driving you wild. You were gushing all over his dick yet as he pulls back, you feel the friction of your walls wrapped around him like a fitted glove, as if your pussy was designed just for him to fuck in.

He holds the hem of his shirt through his gritted teeth so it didn’t block the view. He wanted to see every motion of your needy cunt taking him whole. He paces himself while adjusting his tip at your entrance again. The tension and anticipation between the two of you was thick and vicious. Both of you knew what was about to go down, once he starts stroking, it’s game over for your precious walls.

Leaning down to you, he grabs a heap of your hair and twirls it in a fist, pulling your head back so his cheek was gashing against yours while he busts his first thrust into you, making your body jerk in intense euphoria. He goes again and again, until he picks up a rhythm. Your bodies rub together in heated unison, stimulating your senses to the nastiest levels possible, as he shoves kisses to your mouth, sucking on your tongue and leaving sloppy kisses on your cheeks and ear, thirsting for your affection. With every stroke, you’re sent into an oblivion of pure ecstasy.

Muffled grunts and mumbles of pleasure was all you could hear. It was killing Dean not to talk his shit. He’s a vocal lover, he knew all the right things to say that would brings out the animalistic freak in you. But in this tent, soft moans and whispers was all he could give you.

You rock your core back against his length, making him damn near lose all control and grip your hips with a tight hook as if he was cautiously trying to steady you. Throwing it back on him was a dangerous game, the control you had over him in the moment was unbearable. He desperately slows down his rhythm, nears your ear and mutters through his breath, “Oh, so you wanna play like that, huh?”

A devilish smile grows on your lips and you catch your breath in the quick spell he’s giving your walls.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You cluelessly respond.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

He pants on top of you, nestling his face in your hair, taking in your scent and licking up the droplets of sweat on your back.

“Two can play that game, sweetheart.” He mumbles into your skin.

A half smile forms on his lips as he slams back into you. He chuckles as you begin to lose it under him again, the sight of your unraveling was pure entertainment for him. He was well aware of just how good he puts it on you.

He stands up and spreads your cheeks apart while observing the view.

“I love seeing your pretty pussy take this dick. Why’s that pussy so good, hmm?” He grunts out.

Dean halts and draws back so only the tip is in.

“I said, why is that pussy so good?” he squeezes your face between his hand and turns your head to him, making you look up at him in the eyes as he rams in and out of you, leaving you silently gasping for air. Rolls of the orgasms he gave you just moments ago were still coming over you.

“I think I need to fuck you before every match.”

He picks his pace back up, filling you entirely. Bending down, his lips swipe across yours, teasing your desperate mouth.

“I bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you? Tearing that pussy up every game.”

You look back to find his eyes piercing into yours as he strokes you down. He had you exactly where he wanted you: under him, stretched and slutted out. He was driving you insane.

You moan in response, feeling his wood flesh you out like there was no tomorrow. The idea of being fucked by him every match was both exhilarating and dangerous. You knew it would be hard to resist him before every match, knowing he had pent up aggression for the quidditch field. It was intimidating how easily he dominated you like this. But right now, all you could think about was how good it made you feel, being his little cum bucket.

“Yes,” you gasp out, “I want you to fuck me every game.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You always spread your legs for me like a good fucking whore, no matter the time or place.”

His features soften and his eyebrows furrow in. He closes his eyes and crashes lips to yours, groaning in your mouth. His strokes deepened inside you to the back of your walls, he wouldn’t dare to pull back a single inch, he wanted to feel all your tightness around him. You clench your pussy lips as he rests balls deep inside you, the pleasure mixing in the pain of his shaft hitting your cervix sent you over once more. You bend further across the trunk, trying to process all the sensations he was giving you, shying from his stroke.

Dean pulls you back, burrying his cock deeper than he was before. You whimper through another nut with teary eyes and slippery sweat all over your body. There wasn’t any words you could fathom that could explain the bliss he was fucking into you.

“Don’t run, baby. Be a good girl, take it.” he whispers, watching your face go through levels of rapture.

He pauses and strokes one more time, steadying himself before giving you another row of toe curling plows. Retracting out and immediately ramming right back in. He continuously rips into you, not giving you a single moment to gather yourself.

“Take it. Take all this fucking dick. I missed this pussy too much. I missed you so much baby!”

His voice cracks into a deep tone, moaning out all his nasty thoughts to you, “You feel so good, you always do. My pretty little whore.”

And just like that, hearing him talk nasty to you sparks the freak in you to life. You start fucking him back, applying all the pressure to his cock.

“Yes baby. I’m a fucking whore. I’m your whore.” You screech out.

You were gone, completely lost in the heat of passion. Dean bought out filthy taboo in you that you didn’t even know had a place in your desires.

“Use me like a fucking toy. I’m just an object for your cum. Nut inside me.”

“Oh fuckkkk.”

His cum shoots against the back of your core. As much as he tried, he couldn’t hold back the roaring moan that left his mouth. You felt his load fill you to the brim as it oozed outside your slit and down the back of your thighs.

“Damn girl, what the…fuck. I haven’t nut that good in a minute…” He weakly pants, his body going limp against yours.

You tiredly chuckle, too exhausted to try to speak, basking in all the high sensations still running through your body.

He doesn’t pull out, he smiles and moves the strands of hair that were slicked against your face behind your ear.

“So that’s what you like? Being my toy?” He inquisitively mumbles between huffs, leaving soft pecks against your bare skin.

You freeze in embarrassment, wanting to hide from his grasp and gaze.

“Oh my g- I don’t even know why I said that. I say stupid shit when we fuck.”

“Well hold on now, who said it was stupid?”

You cover your face in embarrassment with your hand. Sure, the thought of him using you like a fleshlight is enough to make you cum from the thought alone but you couldn’t admit that to him, that was sensitive information for only you, your toys and your spank bank to know. Plus, it would only make him more arrogant knowing how much power play gets you off.

“If you’d allow it, I think you’d make a perfect beautiful tight toy for me.” He caresses your thigh, soothing over the indented marks of his fingers from digging into your skin.

He brings your hands from your face as he hardens inside you, already ready to make a slut out of you again.

You gasp and look at him with widened eyes. “Already?”

“Baby, you actually feel like heaven…can you blame me?” He tilts his head and smiles that cocky all knowing smile.

“You’re such a slut.” you laugh off.

“That makes two of us, sweetheart.”

He gives you a kiss accompanied by slow strokes. You coo from the soreness of your walls being worn out but you ached for another round, his sex was a pleasurable craving you would never get enough of.

From a far distance, you can hear a crowd of people chatting and laughing.

“Fuck. Shit. What time is it?” Dean abruptly tugs his full length out of you, pulling up his shorts.

“I’m not sure? I lost track of time ages ago.” You frantically look around you and over the trunk for your underwear.

Dean helps you look around and remembers he put it in the pocket of his shorts when he was undressing you.

“I think you’ll be needing this.”

He gets down on his knees and helps you put the panties back on, wiping his cum away from your thighs with a gym towel from the equipment basket. He slows his pace when he draws his touch up to your hips. You raise your brows, wondering why he stops rushing.

“Dean?”

He lays a kiss on you clit against the fabric and looks up at you with bright eyes and a smirk, caressing the back of your thigh.

“You free after the game? I have a feeling I’ll be needing to use my toy.”

“What? You ask now with people right outside? You know you can just text me after the game.”

He stands up and pulls you by your waist into him.

“I could, but I wanna hear you say it.”

He bites down on his bottom lips, waiting for the magic words. You antsily look at the exit of the tent, ready for players to start rolling in at any moment.

“Dean! They’re right outside.”

He raises his brows, not budging to let go of you. Either he didn’t give a fuck that anyone knew you were fucking or he was just that naturally bold and stubborn. You were sure it was the latter. Either way, you couldn’t resist his charm.

“Yes, I have a free period after your game to fuck.” You submit, coyly smiling and rolling your eyes.

Satisfied, he presses his lips against yours. “Good girl.”

“Okay, now I’m leaving.” you say against his kiss and step away to head for the exit.

“Yeah, get of here ya’ weirdo! Why are you in the male changing tents anyways? Pervert!” He exclaims loud enough for even the people outside to hear.

You halt and turn back at him in disbelief, breaking into laughter.

“You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”

“You love it.” He chuckles and gives your ass a quick slap.

You scoff. Before you could give a proper reply, the male cohort of the quidditch team enter into the tent.

“Morning Dean…and Y/K?” Ron approaches.

“Left my phone in the common room last night. Good thing Y/K is like totally obsessed with me and knew I had a game this morning.” Dean jokes, mimicking an American valley girl accent, “She came and dropped it off for me first thing.” he shoots you a wink as he makes the sneaky innuendo.

The balls on this guy. Unbelievable. You had to admit, it was fucking sexy though.

“Well that’s the last time I do that. I’ll just let the house elves take it to lost and found next time.”

He laughs. “That’s fair. Thanks anyways bro.”

Bro. Oh he’s really selling it, this guy needs an academy. You’re aware he’s only showing face but for crying out loud, it’s too soon, his cum is still warm inside you. No matter the fuss though, it’s him who’s gonna be moaning baby when you ride the brakes off him later.

You look once over at Ron then shoot Dean a thin lipped smile.

“Don’t mention it, bruv. Just focus on winning, we don’t need any more house points to Slytherin. Knock em’ dead.”

His brow cocks up as he squints, catching all the shade you’re throwing his way. It was written all over his face, he didn’t like that.

“Cheers.” Ron exclaims with a big grin.

You turn on your heels and make for the exit. The way you keep up antics to hide your affair in front of others was Oscar worthy at this point. Although it kept things on the hush-hush, it was exhausting. But my oh my, did Dean hate it. He was a poor example for a fuck buddy. He talked a good game but at the heart of it all, he was sensitive, needed reassurance from time to time and to be claimed out loud. If you knew what it would take for him to stop ignoring you, you would’ve acted on that weeks ago. At least that was the one thing you had over him, you knew Dean Thomas’s secret longing to be wanted and loved.

As selfish as it was, now that you knew his little secret, you now have the upper hand over this situationship. He’s not the only king of hearts anymore; you’re right besides him, sitting pretty on the throne for the queen.

As you leave, you raise your skirt higher, leaving a little cheek out and sway your hips as you exit, giving Dean a cheeky tease. Just enough to make him stiff in his shorts and sexually frustrated. You glance back and see Dean adjusting and tucking away his wood. Laughter erupts from you as you walk out the tent, it was actually hilarious how easy you make him fold.

You were sure you’re gonna catch some heat for it later.

But now after this morning, you realized you like how vexed he gets from your stunts of the need for attention.

Well, solely because it makes him fuck you harder.

#Alfred Enoch fanfiction #Alfie Enoch fanfiction #Dean Thomas fanfiction #Dean Thomas smut #Alfred Enoch smut #Hogwarts fanfiction #black reader smut #hogwarts x black reader #black fem reader #Dean thomas x reader #alfred enoch x reader #alfie enoch x reader #dean thomas imagine #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #black reader fanfiction

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beauty-and-passion · 1 year

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Eurovision 2023: more about the true winner because I said so

Hey, guess who is not over Eurovision 2023 yet.

It’s me, I am who.

I have never been so invested and still so obsessed over this year’s Eurovision. I mean, I am always hit by the post-depressive phase of Eurovision, but that lasts a couple days - during which I usually go through all the beautiful moments and listen to all the songs on repeat - then I’m back to my regular schedule of stupidly long analyses and fanfictions.

(By the way, sorry for all the Americans who follow me and have no idea of what I’m talking about or what happened in this year’s Eurovision. Just bear with me, I will come back to posting Sanders Sides stuff. Just not today)

This year... well, this year was truly something. And if the last year and the one before I was like “aww, what beautiful moments, I miss seeing these people having fun”, now it’s all mushed into one ball of feelings. I look at those artists having fun with the eyes of someone who saw how things went down. I look at them celebrating the true winner after the finale and I have this strange mix of nostalgia and heaviness.

I am not mad anymore for the result. Or better: I am and I will always be because 200 people stepped over the will of millions. But what this loss caused is just so fascinating and so unique, I want to keep exploring it - and maybe talking a little bit more about the true winner of Eurovision 2023 will help me process my feelings too.

Or I just will satisfy my need to ramble more about this incredible Finnish man, either way.

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The sheer power of charisma

When you watch the entirety of Käärijä’s journey on this Youtube channel (and I suggest you do it, because it gives you a lot of food for thought), you notice a lot of interesting details.

From the moment he won the national competition and knew he had to go to Eurovision, Käärijä knew his only rival would’ve been Loreen. He said right from the start that it would’ve ended up with a confrontation between Sweden and Finland. He liked other songs and thought they could’ve been good opponents - but it’s pretty clear he knew the only one who could’ve opposed him was Sweden.

And he knew that Loreen was good. Even though I do not like her songs, even I have to admit she has good vocals. Sure, the vocals are the only thing I understand because she mumbles the rest of the song, but the vocals aren’t bad.

Käärijä knew she was the favorite to win. He praised her performance and called her “queen”, so he has been the first one to recognize her as a worthy opponent. He wasn’t so naive to think “I can easily beat her”.

However, he had some tricks up his sleeves. He knew his song was perfect for Eurovision, he basically designed it for that. He knew his performance would’ve got people’s attention. And he knew he had a lot of charisma.

You can say anything you want about him, but you cannot deny this man is charismatic. And this is a lot interesting, because charisma doesn’t have an exact definition and it’s not the same for everyone. And yet, we can all recognize and identify it as “charisma” when we see it.

The definition Wikipedia offers is that charisma is “a personal quality of presence or charm that compels its subjects”. And it’s undeniable that Käärijä has it. He has that genuine, simple honesty we see in childrens only and this activates our protective instincts, because we feel the need to protect him too. He is funny and makes us smile and everyone loves to smile and have fun. He is simple and humble and that makes him look more approachable and friendly than a superstar.

And his presence on stage is very, very good. He’s eye-catching and he knew it very well. He was the flashiest and the most interesting to look at - both because of his clothes and his appearance. Just compare him to the Cyprus guy: I don’t even remember the Cyprus guy’s face, but I doubt I will ever forget that iconic neon green bolero.

And I am sure he knew that very well. He knew the public would’ve loved him. He knew he would’ve gotten a lot of points because of the public. He knew he would’ve connected with them and not with the jury.

And so it was. The numbers are clear: he was and still is the public’s favorite. His result is the second highest in history right after Kalush Orchestra’s. The entire arena sang with him. During the voting portion, they kept calling his name. Everyone called him “winner”. As the Estonian singer Alika told him: “you had the public when they announced Loreen won”.

And by knowing that, I can understand why he was so bummed. He literally had everything: the perfect song, the charisma, public’s support. And I am pretty sure that, if the public gave more points to Loreen, he would’ve accepted his defeat easier.

But it wasn’t like that: he got more points than her in both the semifinal and the final. He has always been the public’s winner, right from the start. And even if he would've gotten the theoretical maximum of public votes from Europe (432), he still would've ended up behind Sweden.

Losing because 222 people gave your opponent an unbeatable lead isn’t something easy to digest. I mean, it’s been days and I haven’t digested it yet! And I am definitely not a singer, nor I did take part in the competition. However, I voted for him and, well, I am quite pissed that my money got wasted because of a stupid unfair system. The EBU should really refund everyone who tried to vote, considering there was no way to defeat the sheer power of the jury.

So, well, the competition ended with the public’s favorite losing the piece of glass. I will get over it, everyone will get over it. Käärijä himself will get over it - now he’s still rightfully sad about it, but as he said, life goes on.

And he will soon realize that losing the competition turned him into something more than a simple winner.

______________________

The birth of a legend

If Käärijä won, he would’ve been just the winner of Eurovision 2023. People would’ve loved him like they love Kalush Orchestra or Maneskin. Everyone would’ve been happy, a little bit of post-Eurovision depression as always and we would’ve forgotten it.

But losing had an even bigger impact, because Käärijä didn’t step down to second place, but over the first place. Being so spectacularly wronged in front of the world made him ascend to the status of legend and the public went crazy for him. Cha Cha Cha reached the top of Spotify's top 50 global, people from all European countries called him “the true winner” and I’ve seen more than one American, who knew nothing about Eurovision, watch his performance and protest for the result as well.

Even Tumblr was affected by this: the tag Eurovision trended for 3 days after its ending and, after it stopped trending, Käärijä kept doing it for days. And he’s still doing it, so good job people, let’s keep the party going on for a little longer: we all deserve it, after all. You know, as a little FUCK YOU to the jury.

What about Youtube? His grand final performance reached ca. 9 mln views in three days and if you check the comment section, is full of people calling him the true winner as well.

Heck, the Eurovision channel made a video specifically about his journey, like the usually do for winners only (in fact, they did one for Loreen. And Käärijä’s video got more views than Loreen’s in one single day).

And all over Europe people are still protesting and asking for the voting system to change. The Norway delegation asked it first and I fully support them, because they are constantly robbed by the jury. I liked Duncan Lawrence’s Arcade in 2019, but KEiiNO was a completely different level. (And if you loved KEiiNO too, please check their Youtube channel because they have made a lot of other songs and OH MY GOSH THEY ARE ALL GREAT)

Käärijä united Europe with his music and his energy and I understand why Finnish people are so proud of him: there are very few artists who are able to connect people so well. And he did it by using his mother tongue, not English! That’s an even bigger win imho, because it proves that if you have a great song, a strong performance and incredible charisma, people will appreciate you and go past the language barrier without any problem.

That’s why humankind loves music, after all: because it doesn’t need to be understood word by word, to reach people’s hearts.

______________________

The hero’s journey

There are many reasons why people fell in love with this funky green man and they all differ: someone loves his bubbly personality, others were touched by his genuinity, others just fell on the ground laughing and who doesn’t love someone that makes you laugh? And yes, there are some who are just horny for him and you are valid too, because he’s a good-looking man.

However, I think that the main reason why so many people got so invested, it’s because he had the perfect hero’s journey.

He already had a story perfect for a movie, even before starting Eurovision: when he was younger, he was diagnosed with colitis ulcerosa and the disease almost took his life (this post has an interview with all details). But because of that experience, he realized life is short and he should’ve pursued what he truly wanted - i.e. singing. I mean, this alone is perfect material for a movie already.

But now he got another story, and it’s even more like a movie: the story of the young man no one knew, who left his city in his small country, to reach the big European stage. A man with a funny spirit, who connected with everyone despite his broken English - and he wonderfully improved it along the way. Just look at how much more confident he became! Truly a masterful example of how we should just talk and make mistakes, in order to get better in another language.

So we followed the adventures of this funny man and of the friends he made along the way. We had fun and cried for the beauty of his friendship with Bojan (he literally called Käärijä “my new brother” and a small part of my heart that was broken got immediately healed). We got involved in his climbing to the top, we saw him face the behemoth that was opposing him and hoped for him to overcome it.

And he got the tragic conclusion of a hero’s journey: a hero who won and yet still lost.

People love this shit. We have always loved the story of the little one against the unbeatable enemy, the nobody who got the recognition he deserves, the kind heart defeated by the corrupt system. Those are all things that touch people and all aspects of the hero’s journey. And people naturally hope for a happy ending, so if we get a sad, bad or unfair one instead, we tend to feel even more empathetic towards the protagonist. And if your protagonist is as lovable as he is, the feeling is 100x stronger.

I really don’t know if the national juries expected this to happen, when they knew who the public’s favourite was and yet decided to award a different artist. But by doing that, they became the perfect enemy to close Käärijä’s journey and build a legend.

So, well, thanks for sucking so much. You built the legend you didn’t want to.

And yes, Käärijä’s enemy IS NOT Loreen. Loreen did her thing, she didn’t bribe the judges to give her votes. The problem is the jury’s power. So, for all the people who are still harrassing her: please stop hating this woman, she just did what other artists did too.

And since we’re talking about her, please stop saying shit like “She shouldn’t have participated!” too, because this is both very stupid (everyone is allowed to participate in Eurovision) and very disrespectful towards Käärijä himself. It’s a bit like saying that sure, he was good, but, like, you know, not enough good.

And this is totally wrong because this man has been able to defeat Loreen twice, both during the semifinal and the final (at least according to the votes that matter). So stop undermining his ability: he is a good artist. Actually, an artist so good only Loreen was able to compete against him.

And if you still think it’s right to hate Loreen for whatever reason, then I would like to bring this to your attention:

The king literally proposed to Loreen. And, considering how accurate was his foresight about the whole competition, I think it’s time we start to think about when it will happen and how many children they will have.

So if you are still harassing her: stop protesting for the piece of glass and ask her when will they get married, instead. We need to know.

Also, wouldn’t that be an even more perfect ending for Käärijä’s hero’s journey? Not only the great evil (aka the jury) will be defeated, but he will marry the only woman strong enough to oppose him. 100/10 I want a movie now.

And yes, I know Käärijä also proposed to Bojan and they are fathers of a baby sea lion. But what’s the problem? Doesn’t Käärijä have two hands? With one hand can hold Bojan, with the other Loreen, duh.

(Then he will probably need another hand for Selena from Austria, because I think she developed a little crush on him but hey, that’s the life of a hero I guess.)

______________________

Have you listened to his other songs yet?

I just want to confirm they are bops and you should listen to them immediately. Also, do not forget his concert on Saturday that will be available worldwide. Let’s show love to the king.

And yes, that means another post will come out. I mean, there are still so many things we need to know! I want to see the photos of that mural people are doing for him in Vantaa, I want to see the music collaboration between him and Bojan, I want to see them visiting little Edgar at the zoo. And I can’t wait to hear about his future European tour, because he has to do one. And maybe that will fully convey him how big his impact has been indeed.

As people told him in the after party, he conquered the world. Now he just needs to see it for himself.

#eurovision #eurovision 2023 #esc #esc 2023 #finland #jere from vantaa will go very far #good job finland #everyone loves you #and you don't even have to spend money to host the show #also you will be forever linked to the legend #just like ukraine #and that's another huge privilege #käärijä

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