#Some people just misunderstood the story completely

[jackoshadows]

Game of Thrones did remind me a lot of British culture and history in terms of Sansa’s xenophobic rants against the Dothraki and Unsullied - who came to help the North from an existential apocalyptic threat and ended up dying in large numbers - being very similar to Brexit Britain.

The othering language used by the Starks - ‘She’s not one of us’. The backstabbing and betrayal of an ally come to help. Brexit was and is as nonsensical as Sansa’s entire ‘Northern independence’ shtick. The way Sansa had no issues feeding the Vale army but complained about feeding the Dothraki and the Unsullied reminds me of the likes of Rees Mogg, Nigel Farage and the UKIP party talking about immigrants and refugees.

And it really is discomforting to realize that a lot of people are fictionally for a UKIP party’s xenophobic hated of others given their rhetoric and support for show Sansa’s actions in GOT. It’s fascinating just in general how easily people fall in anglo-centric/imperialistic/colonial/racist/po-monarchial mindsets when you put a pretty face on the brochure!

ASoIaF on the other hand is fundamentally different to GOT in it’s narrative themes and the story it’s telling with the fight against the allegory for climate change - the Others - being more important than which noble family gets to rule over the Smallfolk. That has consistently been the message of the books.

I’m not an “American First” (and maybe because I read science fiction) I’m a “Terran First”. I’m a human being first. And I have this sympathy for other human beings no matter what side of the giant ice wall they happen to be born on. - GRRM

When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?” - Jeor Mormont

Why can't it be both?" Meera reached up to pinch his nose.

"Because they're different," he insisted. "Like night and day, or ice and fire."

"If ice can burn," said Jojen in his solemn voice, "then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one." - Jojen Reed

“Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?” Jon waited for an answer. None came. “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord— what are these wildlings, if not men?” - Jon Snow

The shield that guards the realms of men. Ghost nuzzled up against his shoulder, and Jon draped an arm around him. He could smell Horse’s unwashed breeches, the sweet scent Satin combed into his beard, the rank sharp smell of fear, the giant’s overpowering musk. He could hear the beating of his own heart. When he looked across the grove at the woman with her child, the two greybeards, the Hornfoot man with his maimed feet, all he saw was men. - Jon Snow

I also think we need to be consistent and if we are talking about Northern independence or Dornish independence or just the dissolution of the 7 kingdoms from the Iron Throne etc, then these discussions should also include the Iron Islands and Ned Stark/Stannis Baratheon crushing the Greyjoy rebellion and taking Theon Stark as a child hostage so that they would not fight back again. There is no one family or one house in the morally right here. They are ALL feudal lords fighting for power and for their house.

#asoiaf #anti GOT #Some people just misunderstood the story completely

[alicentsgf]

the fact asoiaf is very based on british culture and history really adds... something. and that something is perhaps just the deep discomforting realisation that a lot of people are fictionally against like... irish independence, scottish self-determination, etc etc. its fascinating just in general how easily people fall into anglo-centric/imperialistic/pro-monarchical mindsets when you put a pretty face on the brochure.

#some people just. misunderstood the story completely #asoiaf

[no-light-left-on]

hot take but taking every hearsay or rumor or book in a fictional universe for fact is bad understanding of the world as the story presents it, actually

#li.txt #this is both about dishonored and elder scrolls #propaganda exists! artistic interpretation exists! lie exist! people make shit up! #you cant take anything literally unless youre seeing it for yourself imo #if someone is telling you a story about their life they might omit information or make themselves look better! thats how people work! #or if you hear idk some musicians singing in the streets about an ancient myth from 4k years ago maybe dont take it for fact #this is a direct callout to people shitting on born in the month of darkness #if anything they were trying to make the outsider sound like a pathetic wet cat in need of a warm blanket and food. a poor meow meow #unless stuff is confirmed by the characters themselves Im not gonna believe it fully #the books are also often just. not true. theyre scientific speculation Just Like Real Life #or full on propaganda. just like - you guessed it - real life! #the best example that I can think of is how theres two books on the war of betony island in daggerfall. political!! propaganda!!! #not to mention: people will deceive you on purpose! omit details or full on Lie in your face #like Im sure theres stuff we completely misunderstood cause the one thing we were told about it was by someone bullshitting #like with delilah talking about her tragic backstory. like dont get me wrong I 100% believe that it all happened #but also I doubt she was as pitiful and that the Very Quick Summary was all there is to it #I should probably specify that if youre down to believing absolutely everything when there isnt any other sources thats fine #esp if you want to believe it for the reasons of Oh This Is Cool #like people absolutely eating up the angsty backstory for the outsider (me included cause yes. angst.) #have fun with all that #this is mostly about all the people throwing a temper tantrum online about disliking something about canon #'why do the musicians know the backstory why cant they leave anything vague anymore:/' theyre artists melinda its their job ur doing the sam #unless this was confirmed by the outsider in the books idk I cant find those damn things #if something is Stated by a Character or Written in a Novel that is in the world theres always some doubt #like I genuinely doubt that the events of Young Prince of Tyvia happened the way they do in the books #so like yknow. if you hate stuff so much just. ignore the canon established by literal in-game fiction

[teddiebearie]

seeing a post that was made after seeing another post and having the second post remind me of another, completely unrelated third post.... yeah.

#teddy's talk #that one was abt redemption arcs tho. the thing i'm thinking about now is flaws of the author vs flaws of the character #and how some people really need to realise the author's intent DOES matter #like there was this one post i saw abt a character where he misunderstood something another character was going through #in a story that has very clearly set up a narrative where patriarchy is a big problem #like. almost every single female character suffers under it. this is explicitly highlighted several times. #anyway the character misunderstood something another character went through bc he's a guy and despite being kind of outcast #still benefits from being a guy. and the other character had had specific problems *because of* the patriarchal hierarchy. #and he was like 'she hates me bc i'm privileged' which wasn't quite right. #and this person was like yeah the author doesn't quite get it :// #like!!!! no!!!! no that was exactly the point!!!! he's a good and sympathetic guy and the author was trying to show that even HE has trouble #understanding properly bc that's how this kind of stuff tends to work—people who benefit from oppressive systems don't... #fully realise just how bad it gets unless they actually Try to understand. and he's not quite there yet. #my point is. this was clearly supposed to be a character flaw. but this person got clearly upset bc they thought it was an author flaw #or when ppl talk about madoka and completely ignore the original intended message #but that's another can of worms

[baiwu-jinji]

translated the postscript of the revised edition of TGCF, it's beautifully written and you can just tell from the tone of the writing that MXTX's been through stuff:

"I write first to entertain myself, then to entertain others. Of course, self-expression and self-affirmation are given priority, but other people's appreciation is important positive feedback as well. Therefore, above all I want to thank my readers who have stayed with me all along unwaveringly and unfailingly. It's not as if I've never thought about walking away from it all: everyone has different opinions and it gets too loud, too much turmoil in the community makes me want to abandon social media. That would have seemed nice too. But looking back, my steps always waver, and I'm reluctant to part with some readers who are true and sincere.

In the past, there were writers I really loved who just disappeared from the internet, and I always felt as if days of my youth disappeared with them. This is a terrible feeling, and makes one think thoughts that are too grand and harsh, like things tragically forgotten by time, or the overwhelming movement of history. Therefore, I want to stay with my readers longer to the best of my ability. Maybe the day of parting will come eventually, but it could come just a little bit later. Maybe I'm not good enough as I am, but I will try to become better in the coming days. Maybe you've never understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but anyone who comes is a guest, and anyone who stays is a friend; as long as you like my stories, we can sit down and have a chat."

original Chinese:

“写东西先自娱，后娱人。自我表达和自我认可固然为第一，但他人的喜爱也是很重要的正反馈，所以，首先感谢一直以来坚定不移陪伴我的读者们。也不是没想过一走了之：众说纷纭，吵闹；江湖纷扰，弃号！这样好像也不错。但回首却总踟蹰，终归是舍不得一些真心读者。

我曾有很喜欢的作者消失在网络，我总觉得是我的一段青春销声匿迹了，这感觉很难受，让人联想到一些诸如时代眼泪、历史洪流之类过于宏大冷酷的东西。所以，我想竭尽所能地陪伴我的读者更久一些。或许离别的那一天终将到来，但它可以来得晚一些。或许现在的我还不够好，但日后的我会努力变得更好。或许你从来不了解我是什么样的人，甚至是全然误解，但来者是客，留者是友，只要喜欢我的故事，咱们就能坐下聊聊。” ——天官赐福新修版后记

#tgcf #mxtx

[thechekhov]

As an autistic person (who is, to be honest also pretty immature) I also really related to Izutsumi. I understand that my pickiness is unreasonable but that wouldn't stop me from rather not eat that try something I don't like or not know, or that looks bad.

I think maybe we misunderstood each other a bit here.

I don't think the issue is Izutsumi not eating things.

If she simply said "I'm not eating that, I'm going to out and hunt for my own food" that would be completely understandable. Hell, even Marcille refuses to eat some of the things Senshi cooks. Not Eating Monsters is a very relatable part of this story. Most people who the party meets refuse to do that. Senshi and the guys - THEY'RE the weird ones.

In fact, in this panel, Laios is being a jerk on purpose and I'm surprised he got away with only scratches.

I joked about her eating the weird little man, but honestly? If she doesn't want to, why pester her? He was just being Laios.

And in the flashback, Izutsumi dealt with things pretty normally - just give what you don't want to eat to Tade.

No dramatics necessary! Everyone wins. She's a cat, she doesn't need leeks anyway.

But the point at which she kinda crosses a line is specifically this:

She yells at Laios about her limits - fine. A bit unnecessary, given that he's just trying to explain their situation, but whatever.

But she then puts the party in danger by going for the Barometz AND then walks away after initiating a battle, because it doesn't suit her.

The difference between what happened with the Ice Golem and now is consideration. Thinking about how your actions impact the safety of others. While Chilchuck and Izutsumi worked together to fell the golem, the others (Marcille and Senshi and Laios) didn't just wander off to look for NEW problems. They stayed nearby, presumably ready to jump in.

They also didn't split the party, forcing Marcille to give chase in order to assure Izutsumi didn't die. (Marcille is also kinda in the wrong here for leaving others, because she also endangered them, but she did it out of concern for Izutsumi.) (Also, Izutsumi would have died if Marcille hadn't followed her, so it's a fair concern.)

The issue isn't that Izutsumi cares about her own needs. That's a healthy thing that everyone should do!

The issue is that Izutsumi doesn't care about the needs of others, to the point of endangering them for very little reward to herself.

She makes no effort to....make an effort? She yells at the party when things don't go her way and demands they make unreasonable adjustments for her. It's not about when she threw away the mushrooms - like, that was funny and partially expected after Senshi got used to the others eating whatever. Though it IS wasteful....

When I say Izutsumi comes across as spoiled to me - that's NOT because of having personal preferences. She can eat whatever she wants, forever. That's a human right.

But I do think she's selfish for demanding that the world and other characters bend (unreasonably) to her will (because they're in a DUNGEON with limited resources) and make it easier for HER specifically, even though attempting to do so endangers them.

But also, as many of you have pointed out: She's not even an adult, she's 17. I assumed she was like, mid-20s, so her behavior makes a lot more sense now.

#chekhov answers #then again she might have a tragic backstory to explain her actions #who even knows #chekhov reads dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi

[repbeyondthedefaults]

First Kill does not center or even give quarter to gross men. The one gross man we see is Cook from the Guild who just isn't actually hitting on or creeping on Calliope but he's got a vibe like he would if he got the chance. And he is unequivocally gone in the ep after he is introduced. Thank you Cal and subsequently, Juliette!

But even in the scenes between teenagers, they literally have the song Slumber Party playing in the background with lyrics about cunnilingus, but when Ben turns Juliette's spun bottle towards Calliope, there is no whooping and hollering, no lewd comments about wanting to watch, or complaints about the game now being unfair because it landed on someone else. Everyone just kinda goes "Alright, cool." And backs off smiling. It centers a lot of things I love about this show.

Consent. No one is forcing Juliette to kiss someone she's uncomfortable with, especially as a lesbian but also in general.

A complete and total LACK of homophobia. Like these kids don't bat an eye about Juliette and Cal going in the closet to kiss. They're just there to have fun and no one is under any impression that coercion or skeevey commentary is fun.

There's not even the for some reason obligatory in this kind of media creepy "misunderstood" white guy.

The centered narratives are for the girls', a balance between both of their experiences in the story.

People saying it caters to the male gaze are not watching the show. There isn't even a fictional character to whom this show is catering. The girls are in their world. No one is watching.

#first kill #calliette #calliope burns #juliette fairmont #lgbtq #consent #representation in media #more media like this please #literally I am not skeeved out truly by any moment in this show #not with regards to sexuality and sexualization #people keep saying it's a problem #this show honestly has a lot of layers #netflix please renew first kill for several more seasons #it has the range! #mine

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

I don't usually judge people for the way they perceive a story. With that being said, it genuinely confuses me that there are some people who have:

Read the bits and pieces of Azriel's tragic background we've been provided

Read the way he was pining for Mor for 500 years without ever approaching her or speaking his feelings

Read about the way he respects women

Read about the way he is so painfully insecure

Read about the gentleness in which he treats Elain

Read about the way he has never hesitated to think of, include, and protect Elain

Read the ACOSF bonus chapter that shows how utterly tormented he is by his feelings that extend beyond just lust.....

And somehow have come to the conclusion that Azriel is an entitled male for questioning something that Feyre, the damn High Lady, questioned herself. That he believes he is owed Elain's affections, when he was simply expressing his confusion. Entitled. Owed. I could think of 20 different words to describe him, and those two would never, ever make the list.

I don't even think it's a matter of opinion. I genuinely think some folks have completely and utterly mischaracterized or misunderstood his character, whether accidentally or purposely. We don't have his full story, but we've been given enough information to understand part of who Azriel is at his core. He is anything but entitled.

#elriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #elain and azriel #azriel x elain #pro elriel #pro azriel #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster

[winchesterdreamgirl88]

His Sunshine

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Bad writing

Summary: Draco is a cold, dark, brooding person who forgot what it was like to smile or feel happy. But Y/n is the biggest ray of sunshine ever, she always has a smile on her face and is always trying to make people feel better. What happens when they are forced to work on a project together?

Word Count:513

A/n: I feel like I could've written this so much better but I just couldn't find the right words. I really like the grumpy boy and sunshine girl trope it's one of my favorites. I feel like Draco is very misunderstood and honestly isn't a bad person he just didn't have anyone supporting him or helping him. So most of my stories about him may be different than the movies but it's how I envision him.

3rd Person POV

Draco used to be a happy kid in his first year at Hogwarts, but as the years went by he became less and less happy. He was under so much pressure from his father to follow in his footsteps and become a Death Eater and serve his families purpose. He forgot what it was like to feel happiness and joy.

But Y/n on the other hand was the complete opposite, she always had a smile on her face and she radiated happiness. Unfazed by the world's harshness, Y/n exuded an infectious joy that seemed to dance in the air around her. Her whimsical demeanor and dreamy gaze were as captivating as they were mystifying. But surprisingly Draco didn't hate her, and he had every reason to. She was a muggle born and a Gryffindor, there is no reason Draco should feel the way he feels about her. But when he sees her smile he can't help but want to know the reason for her smile, and he wanted to be the reason she smiled like that.

2nd Person POV

One snowy day Draco had woken up just like every morning; sad and alone. He walked his way to potions with Snape, not prepared for what the day had in store for him. Draco walked into class and sat down at his normal table ignoring the useless boring chatter coming from Crabbe and Goyle.

"Alright everyone, I am going to assign you partners and you need to have this done by the end of the class." Everyone groaned and waited to hear who they were going to be forced to work with. Draco has managed to turn out Snape so he was surprised when you suddenly appear next to him.

"Don't worry, let's try and get this done as quick as we can so you can resume your role as the curator of crankiness." You said trying to get some sort of reaction from Draco. But he was facing away from you can not talking. Unbeknownst to you Draco's lips quirked into the tiniest smile.

As the next few days went by you and Draco continued to be partners and work together in potions. Over time, Y/n's infectious happiness became a balm to Draco's brooding soul. You taught him to appreciate the beauty in the smallest moments and find joy even in the darkest corners. Y/n, in turn, discovered a depth and resilience in Draco that others seldom saw.

As the days turned into weeks, Draco found himself smiling more often, his scowl replaced by a softer expression. Your relentless optimism had worked its magic on him. In a quiet moment beneath the starlit sky, Draco took your hand and admitted, "You're infuriatingly happy, y/l/n, but somehow, I find myself drawn to it."

And so, the grumpy Slytherin and the happy dreamer forged an unlikely connection, proving that sometimes, love blooms in the most unexpected places even between a ray of sunshine and a grumpy man who just needed someone to show him the sunshine.

#harry potter imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #tom felton

[phantomonabudget]

We need to talk, Pham. Stop shaming Christine Daaé.

I have seen this behavior consistently for the 30+ years I have been a Phan. What's worse is that I see A LOT of it from grown women. I see posts calling her foolish for leaving Erik. Slut shaming her or calling her a gold digger. Calling her stupid, weak, or unworthy because a "real woman" (presumably the women posting these absurd notions 🙄) would have loved him better and been worthy of his awesome talent and capacity for love. 😳🤮

It's disturbing, disheartening, and disgusting. And it needs to stop.

First off, none of these characters are real, so perhaps let's take things a little less seriously in general. It's a fictional story. I get it: we all love it, and probably love the Phantom's character. That's fine....I've made a 20+ year career dressing as the dude, for crying out loud. 🤣 Maybe we all identify with Erik/The Phantom to some degree. Regardless of the version of the story, if the actors or authors do their job well, we *should* feel pity and compassion for him. But feeling compassion and completely ignoring the character's dangerous and abusive behavior are two very different things. It has the potential for some severe consequences in the real world.

By shaming Christine for leaving Erik at the end, you are potentially telling young people that staying in abusive relationships is the right thing. You make them think that if their significant other is talented, misunderstood, been abused themselves etc, then they should stay and love them into a healthy relationship. That if they just love their abusive SO harder, sacrifice themselves a little more or for a little longer, or keep putting that person's needs above their own, that the relationship will suddenly become this wonderful, euphoric experience. It won't. As a survivor of longtime abusive myself, I can tell you from experience: it doesn't happen that way.

Celebrate healthy relationships and enforcing healthy boundaries. Stop shaming Christine for fighting for and winning her life and saving the man she loves.

And please stop calling this a romance. It's the antithesis of romance.

I am sick of members of this Phandom completely ignoring Erik/The Phantom's behavior to justify their blind adoration. Erik is an abusive and dangerous character, and extremely toxic. He lies to and manipulates Christine using her trauma from her deceased father. He kidnaps her, multiple times. Threatens her and her colleagues. He extorts hundreds of thousands from the business managers. He endangers dozens of people with the chandelier crash, and effectively holds hundreds hostage for months or years at a time with his reign of terror at the Opera.

Then there are the murders. Several of them. Probably been at that for awhile so we can assume it's far more than the two we see in the show. We don't know his actual body count, but we do know he's adept and comfortable taking human life.

And yet, I see some mature phans out here completely ignoring all those things and still shaming Christine for leaving him. Why? Because he's "sexy" (author's note: PLEASE go re-read Leroux. Please). And he's talented. And has so much love to give. And is misunderstood. And society was terrible to him...so it's all fine. 😳🤮 She should have just stayed and loved him like he deserves to be loved. 🙄

Recently I saw a post shaming Christine and the justification was that Raoul was so much worse. He isn't. Is he a perfect character? No, not at all. Does he make mistakes and try to use Christine? In some versions, yes. Does he run around extorting, manipulating, threatening, and killing others? Also no.

Pleasw don't ever use LND!Raoul's character assassination as some kind of justification, because he's still the most sane, normal human being in that show, and Erik is still 1,000 times worse than Raoul in LND. Also, using LND as justification for anything makes for a very weak and uninformed argument.

"Hurt people hurt people." Ever heard that phrase? Abused people sometimes abuse others, especially if they haven't done the work to heal themselves. Their previous abuse does NOT entitle them to abuse others. That is always a deliberate choice and those choices have consequences. The dangerous, disgusting rhetoric I see in the Phantom community basically excuses toxic behavior because Erik was previously abused and nothing is his fault. That is simply not true. Those that abused me were previously abused. Didn't make my abuse hurt any less. And I made the choice to do the work so that the abuse stopped with me. Previous trauma is a reason for the behavior, but it is NEVER, ever an excuse.

And don't let the fact the dude can sing or that he's a snappy dresser blind you to his toxicity.

We can all enjoy the Phantom character's complexity and love him, while still acknowledging his flaws and holding him accountable for his deeply inappropriate choices.

We talk a lot more these days about trauma, toxicity, and self care. And yet, as a community, we still shame the character of Christine Daaé for doing the healthy, correct thing. The ONLY thing. And in doing so, we set a disturbing precedent for our young or vulnerable Phans who now might think that staying in toxic relationships in the real world is okay.

Please do better, Phandom.

#phantom of the opera #poto #christine daae #raoul de chagny #the phantom #erik #gaston leroux #andrew lloyd webber #the phantom of the opera #toxicity #phandom #phantom phans #fandom

[freelancearsonist]

el chico del apartamento 512

➔ Frankie Morales x gn!Reader - 1.6k

➔ There's a rumor going around your building about the resident of apartment 512, and you're eager to investigate.

➔ Rated PG-13 for allusions to sex but otherwise just some plain old fluff and fun. post movie canon wife and kid erasure sorry, takes place in colombia, both reader and frankie speak spanish and everything is translated.

➔ this is my entry for the Selena Drabble Challenge hosted by mi esposa @fhatbhabie <3 sorry i've been sitting on this forever hehe but i hope you enjoy

Frankie barely manages to pull himself out of the slump he’s in for the first year or so after the absolute disaster in the Andes.

He misses his family, misses his friends, misses his crew–his brothers. He tries to convince himself that it’s for the best, that it’s only a matter of time before those assholes who were in cahoots with Lorea come after him–that the people he loves will be safer and happier if he’s not around them when it happens. And most of the time he can block all that sadness and pain out by throwing his whole mind and body into the earnest construction job he picks up in this new town within this new country. But it catches up to him late at night in dreams and quiet whispers of intrusive thoughts; that he’s a coward for abandoning the ones that needed him most, that he could’ve done more to make that damned mission less of a disaster. That he could’ve come out of it rich and happy if he wasn’t such a fuck-up.

He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, an ache so deep in his chest that it feels like he’s been shot. He clutches at his sternum and tries to catch his breath but he can’t. His body wracks with sobs and he knows he’ll never be okay again.

But somehow, he ends up okay anyway. Somehow, he falls back to sleep just to repeat the cycle the next day.

There’s a rumor going around amongst your neighbors that apartment 512 is haunted.

People hear things–weird things. Screaming, crying, banging–and always at the dead of night. And everyone swears up and down that they’ve never seen the guy who supposedly lives there. The people who say they have seen him get more dramatic with their descriptions every time–toweringly tall, shoulders that could stand up to a wrecking ball, hauntingly sad eyes and gaunt face. It’s like he’s a thing of legend–a story they tell their kids to make sure they behave. “Don’t run in the halls or the guy from apartment 512 will get you.”

You figure he’s probably just some guy who works long hours and likes to watch horror movies to unwind or something–not a monster or a ghost, just misunderstood. You haven’t seen the guy yourself, but you kinda like him anyway. The building’s certainly been a lot quieter since he moved in… well, everywhere except his own apartment, at least. 

You find yourself keeping a more vigilant eye out, alert to any face in the building that doesn’t look familiar. It seems kinda silly to want to see someone you don’t know, but you’re a little nosy and a little more than curious. If there’s some truth to the rumors that have been going around by the people who claim to have seen him, you want to find out for yourself.

It’s a completely ordinary night when you notice an unfamiliar face in the mailroom, and you have to do a double take. This stranger is handsome–tall and dark with shaggy brown hair and an even shaggier patch of stubble across his jaw.

He’s just standing there, staring blankly at a row of mailboxes, looking so… foreboding. You approach slowly, cautiously; part of you thinks you should just walk away and let this man do whatever he’s doing. But there’s a large, louder part of you that approaches with curiosity. There’s just something about him that draws you in, that makes you put on your best smile and ask, “Señor? Necesitas ayuda?” (Do you need help, sir?)

He blinks slowly, heavily, and then dark brown eyes flicker towards you.

“Oh!” He clears his throat and it’s like he’s coming back from an out of body experience–the color returns to his face, his eyes lose that glassy sheen, and his posture loosens a bit. He looks friendly now, sheepish even. He wrings his big hands and shifts on his feet, as if he’s been caught at a vulnerable moment. “Lo siento, estaba en la nube.” (Sorry, I was spacing out.)

“Está bien,” you tell him with your most disarming smile. “Andas buscando algo?” (It’s okay. / Are you looking for something?)

“No, solo estoy recopilando mi correo,” he rumbles before flashing you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen in your life. (No, I’m just getting my mail.)

He fishes through his pockets and finds a small silver key–and then he inserts it into the box labeled “512”.

“Tú vives en el apartamento 512?” There’s a strange air of reverence in your voice despite trying to hide it. This is the guy everyone’s been talking about, and he doesn’t seem nearly as monstrous as everyone tried to make him sound. (You live in apartment 512?)

“Uhhh… sí?” He chuckles and looks over to you, and you can see the way his brow furrows at the look of shocked surprise on your face.

You realize you’re actually gaping open-mouthed at the poor guy, and you snap your mouth closed as soon as you see the little crease between his brows deepen. Not soon enough for it to go unnoticed, though–the corner of his mouth flickers up in a pseudo-smirk, and god he’s handsome.

“No hemos tenido la oportunidad de conocernos aún.” You look up at him and give your best, winning smile as you give him your name. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your stomach as his dark eyes meet yours–have you mentioned how handsome he is? (We haven’t had the chance to meet yet.)

“Mucho gusto,” he says with a smile. “Soy Frankie. Supongo que vives en el edificio también?” (Nice to meet you. / I’m Frankie. I’m guessing you live in the building too?)

“Oh, sí,” you say with a slight laugh. “No soy ningún tipo de acosador, vivo en el apartamento 526.” (Oh, yes. / I promise I’m not some kind of creep, I live in apartment 526.)

And then you catch his eyes dragging along your form, not even the least bit subtle, and you try your best to be nonchalant about the way you have to lean against the wall to avoid melting into a puddle on the mailroom floor; especially when you see those full lips of his curve into a smile, and you know he’s liking what he’s seeing.

“Nah, no creo que seas un acosador,” he hums–and there’s that damned smirk again. If you don’t get out of here you’re going to start drooling. (I don’t think you’re a creep.)

He grabs two letters from his mailbox, examines the envelopes, and then unceremoniously dumps them both into the trashcan in the corner with a mumbled, “Malditas estafas por correo.” (Damn junk mail.)

“Eso es lo único que recibo ahora también,” you tell him sympathetically. (That’s all I get anymore too.)

He brushes past you slightly as he moves to the door, and you get a whiff of distinctly woody cologne that makes your heart pick up a beat. You try to act normal and go to open your own mailbox, but he stops in the narrow doorway and leans against the jam to look at you.

“Te volveremos a ver aquí?” (Will I see you around again?)

You think the rumors about him were right, at least a little bit. He’s towering and imposing–he fills the entire doorway with ease. He’s firm and broad and sturdy and big. Maybe he would be intimidating to someone else, but all you can think about is climbing him like a tree.

“Sí. Puedes verme cuando tú quieras.” (You can see me whenever you want to.)

His eyes flicker indecisively for a moment, and then he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “Qué tal viernes por la noche?” (What about Friday night?)

You try not to focus on how you want him to bite into you like that as you tell him, “Sí, eso sería perfecto.” (Yes, that would be perfect.)

“Perfecto. Te veré luego.” And then he flashes you that damned adorable boyish smile again before he retreats from the mailroom. You think he’s going to be trouble for you. (Perfect. I’ll see you then.)

The monthly building meeting is Saturday morning, and you’re glad to see Frankie’s decided to join in finally. Everyone throws curious looks his way as he walks through the room towards where you’re seated, but no one is curious or brave enough to ask who he is.

“Buenos días, querida,” he murmurs, discreetly ghosting a kiss against your cheek as he drops into the seat beside yours. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes as they trail over your outfit: the same one you wore to dinner last night, the same one you picked up off his bedroom floor this morning and shoved on hastily to get to this meeting in time. (Good morning, dear.)

Before you get a chance to respond, your neighbor from across the hall plunks down in the seat on your other side.

“Escuchaste ese ruido anoche?” She asks, sounding more amused than annoyed. (Did you hear that noise last night?)

“Qué ruido?” You ask with a raised brow. (What noise?)

She smirks with satisfaction, like she knows something you don’t. And then she looks pointedly between you and Frankie. “Suena como si nuestro fantasma en el apartamento 512 hubiera conseguido un socio para él.” (It sounds like our ghost in apartment 512 got himself a partner.)

You nearly choke on your own tongue, but Frankie just chuckles raspily and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He learned all about the rumors from you last night over dinner, and he thinks they’re hilarious. Besides, they’ll die out soon enough anyway–he’s never slept quite as peacefully as he did last night in your arms–if he doesn’t feed them a little bit. And if feeding the rumors means keeping you moaning and groaning the way he did last night, he can’t say he minds it one bit.

➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales one shot #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

[dutchdread]

Hi, I'm sorry if this question has been answered before, but what are your views on the whole Cloud not answering Tifa when she asks if he loves her. I'm not entirely sure where it's from, sorry.

Sure, it might have been asked before, I know I've answered it before, but I've talked about this subject in many places so it might not have been on Tumblr. Either way, the question doesn't bother me, it's a good question since people bring it up a lot, so having a chance to reiterate the answer isn't a bad thing. The scene you're talking about is from the short story: " On the way to a smile - Episode Tifa". Like with all these supposed rebuttals to Cloti this argument fails when you look at the situation honestly for more than two seconds, and is actually Pro-Cloti. Firstly, this argument suffers from the same problem that I brought up a while back in my article concerning "the most misunderstood quote in the LTD". Namely that for this argument to make sense you already have to admit that Cloud and Tifa are in a relationship. There is not a person on earth who would walk up to random friends in the middle of the night and wake them up to ask them whether they love them. The scene is framed as Tifa being in Clouds bedroom, and since Tifa is never mentioned to go to his room and Cloud seems to not be surprised about her being there Occams razor will tell you the most likely reason she's in his room is because they're sleeping together. So even if we look at this situation in the most pro-Cleriths way possible then we still already have a situation where Cloud and Tifa are in a relationship, because only in a relationship does it make sense to talk about relationship issues. And since the very notion of stories is to have a resolution we can also surmise that by the end of the story these relationship issues are in some way fixed, either by them going their separate ways, or them working it out. And since we've discussed the nature of the issues Cloud is facing in depth on this page and have discussed how they are resolved, we know the answer to these questions. The issues are resolved by Cloud returning to Tifa and the children, as has been explicitly stated by the developers.

Inside, I felt one thing was for sure: Cloud and Tifa would be together. Everybody would be back home where they belonged. ~ Nojima - Reunion files - pg. 70

Let me stress this again, the most PRO-Clerith version of this argument has Tifa and Cloud being in a relationship and working it out by the end. And in reality it's even more pro-Cloti than that. The very fact that Tifa is concerned about Cloud not loving her implies that him loving her is in some way the standard. It's not that Tifa and Cloud are friends and it's going so well that Tifa is wondering "wait, does he maybe like me more as just friends? does he perhaps....LOVE me?" no, the implication is that the accepted state of affairs is that they were two people in love, and that she is now questioning whether that's actually the case. Now note that Tifas insecurities by themselves mean nothing. Tifa can be extremely jealous of Aerith and completely convinced that Cloud is depressed because he actually loves another woman, and yet be completely wrong about that, as is clearly the case. Whatever insecurities Tifa might reasonably have, they're pretty clearly shown to be false by the sub-sequent events of Advent Children and all the quotes surrounding it. We know the reason Cloud was depressed, we know the reason he left. As I have discussed in depth here: "why does Cloud think about Aerith if he's not in love with her" as well as on other articles. In short, Cloud is depressed because of Cherophobia, PTSD, Fear of failure, and guilt, and his ultimate reason for leaving is due to his Geostigma. Tifas romantic worries are shown to be unfounded. Concerning the scene itself, a lot of people pretend that Cloud doesn't answer Tifa, that is incorrect. Cloud is asleep when Tifa asks the quote. When this wakes him Tifa changes the question to "do you love Marlene". The reason she does this is most likely because she's scared of the answer, she chickens out and instead of repeating the question, which he missed on account of BEING ASLEEP, she changes it to something less directly threatening to her heart, "do you love Marlene". The most important thing to note is that Cloud answers in the affirmative, he DOES love Marlene. Most importantly, this answer also serves as an answer to "do you love me?", either because Cloud straight up heard Tifa (I don't think he did, but some people pretend he did) and is answering her indirectly, or because this is how you use storytelling to provide an indirect answer to the viewer. The scene illustrates, in general, that Clouds issues are not due to a lack of love. There is a different problem, what is that problem? Well, I've already provided you with a link showing just that. Let me also quickly touch on what happens later on in the short story in general:

Cloud is looking for a way to atone, which he finds through Denzel.

“So the problem was resolved?” Tifa asked. “Which problem?” Cloud responded. “Your problem.” “Oh…” Cloud thought about it. “It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me.” “I can’t really explain it well…” Cloud warned before starting to talk. “The problem isn’t resolved. Well, I never tried resolving it for a long time, I think. You can’t retrieve lost lives.” Tifa nodded silently. “But maybe we can save the lives who are in a crisis just now. Maybe even I can do it.” “You mean Denzel?” “Yeah.” “Hey, do you remember what you said when you brought Denzel here?” “What did I say?” “A lot of things. Even if I opposed it, you would bring him back with you. I could just feel it.” “That…” Cloud was making a face like a kid who thought he would get scolded. “Tell me. I’ll decide whether I’m angry or not after I listen.” Cloud nodded and continued. “Denzel had collapsed in front of Aerith’s church. That’s why I thought Aerith lead him to me.” Saying all that in one breath, Cloud looked away. “You went to the church.” “I didn’t intend to hide it from you.” “You did hide it.” “I’m sorry.” “I’m not saying you couldn’t go. But next time, I’ll go with you.” “I understand.” “And you’re wrong, Cloud.” Cloud was perplexed as he looked at Tifa. “Aerith didn’t bring Denzel to you.” “Ahh, I only thought that…..” “I didn’t mean it that way.” “Aerith brought Denzel to our home.” Cloud gazed at Tifa and finally smiled. __________________________________

This provides further evidence that the issues between Tifa and Cloud weren't due to a lack of love, but were due to Cloud suffering from the guilt of failing to protect Aerith. He doesn't know how to deal with that because this is not something he can take back: "You can’t retrieve lost lives.”. However, he is looking for a way to atone and thinks he's found one by protecting those who are still alive, in this case Denzel. Subsequently his situation with Tifa seemingly improves. But then the story ends with Clouds sudden disappearance, and Tifa wondering if the improvement, and the accompanying smiles, were a lie. The story lets that question linger, it is a cliff hanger, the set-up for Advent Children, advent children is supposed to answer the question, and it does. The answer to the mystery of why Cloud suddenly disappeared when things appeared to be improving, is that he contracted Geostigma.

Cloud never had a candid personality to begin with, and although he started living with Tifa and even started working, he obtained a peaceful living he’s never experienced before, and this conversely made him anxious. And in the midst of this he contracts Geostigma himself, and rather than being able to protect the people dear to him, he instead was forced to face his own death, and so ran away.”-Nojima in AC prologue.

Case closed, Cloti wins again. Like always, whenever you look at any scene in the larger context you come to the conclusion that it perfectly fits the overall story and concepts proposed by Clotis. It's the remarkable coherency of this interpretation that in my opinion is it's best proof. Cleriths propose a very shallow story, they never look deeper than "Clouds actions revolve around romantic love, therefore, every action has to either directly prove romance, or disprove it, there can be no unrelated issues". There is no nuance there, no understanding of deeper concepts. There can't be, because as soon as you try to add those the interpretation falls apart at the seems, you run into a hundred conflicting quotes and a thousand themes that don't fit together or are downright bad. You get stories about a man abandoning sick kids because he wants die die to be with a dead girl, for no other reason than that he knew her for one week and now is obsessed with her. There is no story here, no beauty, no lessons, no morality, just a weird shallow death cult, and the biggest proof that it is a cult is how they can look at a scene like the one you proposed, and delude themselves into actually believing their shallow misrepresentations constitute "a good argument".

#FFVII #ffvii remake #cloti #advent children

[headkiss]

how you looked at me then

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: based on the song K. by cigarettes after sex. moving to hawkins might not have seemed great, then you met steve and everything changed.

word count: 14k

warnings: smut, slight angst, fluff, all of it!!

a/n: this is my baby.. it took so long and i really hope u guys enjoy it!!!! it’s a long one so buckle up, and please please tell me what you think!

༄

You’ve known Steve for over a year now, and you've been sleeping with him for a couple months. It was a long story, and something completely unexpected.

You never thought moving into a trailer park in Hawkins would lead you to make so many friends, but here you were. Eddie was the one you met first, because you were neighbors. He was misunderstood, an outcast. For you, though, he was just the kind person who welcomed you to the town.

Eddie showed you around, taking you to his favorite spots like the arcade, his band practices, a strange spot in the forest that should’ve scared you but didn’t, the works. You would occasionally smoke together, winding down after long days with a joint. He was a good friend to you, a platonic partner in crime.

He even introduced you to his group of friends. Dustin, the other kids, Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, and Steve. Especially Steve.

You don’t know if Eddie had some kind of motive with his talking up of the Harrington boy, but he seemed to want to sell you on him. To make sure you would give him the time of day, as if you weren’t already planning on it.

The group took you in, reluctantly on some ends at first, but they became your people. A support system and a family. Even if they seemed to have a bond that didn’t include you, something that ran deep, you were still treated with warmth and kindness.

Robin was quick to befriend you, claiming that she was tired of her and Nancy being outnumbered by all the boys, and she was ecstatic to have someone else to turn to that wasn’t Steve, as much as she loved him. Some things were better spoken between women.

As your time in Hawkins passed, your friendship with everyone grew stronger, and it was like you’d been part of the clan all along.

The kids had someone else to look up to, to put their trust in, and it felt good to be needed that way. To be loved like that.

-

The flirty dynamic between you and Steve was something that came easily, thoughtlessly. It just worked. Your energy matched, the tension built. You both ignored that tension, until you couldn’t anymore.

You sat in your trailer with Eddie, Steve, and Robin. Each of you sprawled somewhere in the main area, bored and in need of entertainment for the night. Most of the time just being in each other’s company would be plenty of entertainment, but there was something missing this time. It was like everyone just needed something to do.

Eddie was the one who spoke up, “isn’t there a party somewhere tonight? We should go.”

“Hell no,” you were quick to shut it down. You weren’t one for parties because of the people. You didn’t know them and you didn’t necessarily want to.

“Why so quick to say no, babe?”

Of course Steve was smirking as he said it, it seemed like it was almost always on his face when he spoke to you. He loved to tease when it came to you. You always reacted or gave it back in some kind of way and he couldn’t get enough of it. Couldn't get enough of you.

“Because! I don’t know anyone here besides you guys and I don’t really need to. Why can't we just stay here?”

Robin decided to join in next, also trying to persuade you to go out even though it wasn’t really her scene either. “All the more reason! Meet new people and stuff, it could be fun.”

“Not you too, Robs. Really?”

She just shrugged, a small smile on her face because she knew you’d cave if everyone agreed. You were the type of person to do anything for those you cared about, even something small like attending a stupid party.

At everyone’s expectant looks towards you, you sighed. Standing up from your spot on your couch, you just placed your hands on your hips—a move you might’ve picked up from Steve—and nodded your head towards the door.

“Let’s go then.”

Your friends were right, it wasn’t horrible and you did get to meet a lot of new people, which was nice. Eventually, though, the small talk got old and the drinks got gross. You grew bored despite the music and party games.

Steve noticed it when you disappeared from the crowd, of course he did. Lately it seemed like he noticed everything you did. He wished he could say he didn’t know why, but that would be a lie. He liked you, and that was that.

He made it his mission to find you, and he did. You were leaning against the counter in the kitchen, just observing the party by yourself. Steve smiled when he saw you, your hair a little messy from the heated air, your eye makeup smudged the tiniest bit. And yet, you still looked perfect to him. Effortlessly.

“What are you doing hiding here, babe?”

You looked over at the sound of his voice, Steve’s eyes already on you. He came over to stand next to you, eyeing the crowd just as you were seconds before.

“Not hiding. ‘S just getting old. The party, I mean.”

“We can go back to mine. Drop Robin off on the way, I’m pretty sure she’s only here for you anyways.”

“She’s great. What about Eddie?”

“He’s making business, we can just let him know we’re leaving. He’ll be fine.”

“So you wanna go back to your house… just you and me?”

Shit. Did he spook you? Did he ask too much? He knew you’d been friends for a few months, but he didn’t know how to read this situation. Obviously he wanted to spend time with you, and only you. But he had no idea if you felt the same. Or if you even thought about it.

“Um. Yeah, is that okay?”

“‘Course it is, Steve. I’ll go tell Eddie. You get Robs?”

“Okay. Meet me at my car?”

“Sure thing.”

You walked off after that, assuming Steve would do the same. He waited a few moments first, though, just watching the way you moved through the room. The way his eyes seemed to stay stuck on you like that. He shook it off eventually and went to go find Robin.

She was sitting on a chair in the living room, somehow almost asleep even in this noisy house. Steve shook her awake and started talking. He needed her advice.

“Robin, wake up.”

“What?”

“Wake up! I need your help.”

“Jesus, I’m awake. What?”

“So y/n wants to leave and she’s coming to hangout at mine. I said we’d drop you off on the way so it’ll just be us. What do I do? I’m gonna embarrass myself. Oh my god.”

“First of all, rude of you to exclude me. Second, just be honest, like really honest. Tell her how you feel.”

“No, I’m not doing that.”

“You ask what to do and you never listen! You’re hopeless.”

Steve simply rolled his eyes and turned to exit the house, Robin following. He couldn’t tell you how he felt, you’d be so freaked out. It was so early in your friendship, in your time of knowing each other in general. It was just a crush. It had to stay that way.

Meanwhile, you found Eddie and told him that you were leaving with Steve and Robin.

“You’re going back to Harrington’s place? Priceless.”

“What are you saying Eddie?”

“I’m saying you like the boy. It’s about time you do something about it.”

“He’s my friend, Eddie, that’s it. Seriously.”

“Sure.”

You left after that, going to Steve’s car where he and Robin were waiting as promised. Eddie just shook his head at it all. He knew Steve liked you, it was pretty clear in his flirting manner and the look on his face whenever he saw you. He also knew that you liked Steve, even if you didn’t feel it yet. Eddie just knew you two were perfect for each other.

After dropping off a very stumbly Robin and getting back to the Harrington household, you and Steve were sitting on his couch with a random movie playing. At this point, it was background noise, something neither of you were paying attention to.

You and Steve have hung out just the two of you before, but never like this. Never in the quiet and privacy of an empty house, never this late in the night when things seemed to be deserted.

It went unnoticed when you both seemed to shift closer to the other, as if it was just a reflex that didn’t need any thought at all. It was natural, easy.

You can't pinpoint exactly when the mood shifted, when it went from lighthearted flirting like usual to something more, something deeper that was full of want.

Maybe it was when his arm ended up around your shoulders, a heavy weight that led your mind to all things Steve. Maybe it was when you turned on the couch to face each other, eyes roaming and curious. Maybe that want had been there all along, dormant and waiting to escape.

You felt it when Steve’s hand was placing itself on the side of your neck as you spoke, causing a slight hitch in your words. Just the reaction he was looking for.

Steve knew he wanted you, he was never sure if you felt the same until now. He was so intrigued by you, pulled in by all that you were. While he knew he felt something deeper for you than just want, he would take anything you offered. Anything at all.

With his hand on your neck, your pulse picking up under his palm, he felt something. Something mutual.

“How mad would you be if I kissed you, babe?”

Even with the thickness in the air between you, you weren’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at all. You wanted him to kiss you, to feel his mouth on yours. What the hell was up with that?

“Why don’t you find out?”

A whispered “holy shit,” and then he was leaning in, looking in your eyes one last time to search for any hesitation. He found none.

So, he kissed you.

It seemed like the world went still when you kissed, nothing else mattered then. His lips were as soft as they looked, pressing to yours softly at first, then, quicker, hungrier.

If Steve wasn’t kissing you dumb, you’d be freaking out over the fact that Steve was kissing you. When you gasped and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, any trace of thought you had slipped away.

He paid attention to everything that made you react. Breathe harder, push yourself closer.

His senses were going wild and it had everything to do with you and your mouth. You were enchanting and soft and so pretty, and you were here, kissing him. He couldn’t help but groan when you shifted to straddle his lap, a hand braced on his chest and the other tangling itself in his hair.

“How mad would you be if I told you I wanted to make you feel good?”

He was breathless, his pupils wide with desire and his hands now on your hips, guiding you. You could feel him hard underneath you, and it was driving you crazy.

“Not mad at all.”

It was a rush from there. Shirts coming off, kisses stolen between every item of clothing removed. You ended up on your back with Steve hovering over you, both of you in nothing but your underwear.

It was heated touches and his hand slipping beneath the hem of your panties. An orgasm coaxed out of you with skill and praise and all the right words. Another kiss and a question of “Can I fuck you?” and your answer of “yes, please.”

It was the beginning of something.

-

Since that night, an arrangement of sorts was made between you and Steve. A friends with benefits thing that just worked.

You understood each other and what was wanted at what time. How to read what your bodies were saying, what certain looks meant when you were with the rest of your friends. One for ‘my house, later,’ another for ‘I need you. Now,’ that would usually lead to half-assed excuses and two friends leaving early. Very sneaky.

Through the months of your situation, Steve’s feelings for you only grew, though they remained a secret to you. Meanwhile yours stayed buried, in a space of your mind and soul that lived in ignorance.

Despite you and Steve believing you were secretive enough, everybody knew something was going on, and they all knew it would end in one of two ways: with the two of you happy and in love, or a horrible disaster.

Steve’s emotions towards you were clear for anyone to see. Anyone except you, it seemed. His hand would find a place on your lower back when weaving through crowded rooms, his eyes often softening as they fell on your figure, the flirting you had leaving him more flustered than ever before.

He had it bad.

Last night, Steve had the whole clan over. The kids and the other’s all together with pizza and games. It was fun and lively. Exactly what you all needed every once in a while to remind you of the brilliant support system you had.

It involved Eddie’s classing routine of trying to get everyone to give his music taste a chance, Dustin’s huge ego invading every single game, the couples trying to play on teams—except Max, who loved to beat Lucas in anything.

To put it simply, it was a long night. No matter how fun, you didn’t feel like driving home after the chaos that was that group of people, so, naturally, Steve let you stay the night.

When everyone got ready to go, and you didn’t, it gave them even more proof that the two of you were trying to hide something. It gave Eddie more proof to use to get you together, winking at you as he left.

You and Steve had sleepovers before, but always with the expectation of something more. This time, it was just a friend offering a place to sleep for another friend. No sex tonight.

It felt like muscle memory as you walked up to his room with him, changing into pajamas of yours he’s made room for in the top drawer of his dresser. Moving on to the bathroom where Steve kept spare bottles of your skincare products, ready for you anytime. Where there was a second toothbrush in his holder just for you.

You never over thought any of it, though. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you, but friends could be sweet, too. It didn’t have to be romantic… right?

You and Steve moved around each other with ease throughout your night routines, never in the way. It was something you had lots of practice with considering the amount of late night phone calls that turned into late night visits.

Once you were both in his bed, that’s when there was a small hesitation. Do you still cuddle even if nothing happened beforehand? Was it acceptable for Steve to give you a forehead kiss goodnight in this case? Were you allowed to wrap his arm around your waist, deeming yourself the little spoon?

After that moment of wondering who will make the first move, though, you both seemed to just think, fuck it. You both turned to lay on your sides, Steve wrapping his arm around you, you scooching back so his chest was pressed right against your back, radiating warmth and comfort.

Then, a forehead kiss from Steve, whispered goodnights, and you were both asleep.

You woke up to sunlight slipping through the gap in the curtains, an arm still holding you close, legs tangled with yours. A warm chest against you and soft breaths hitting the back of your neck.

When you felt Steve shift around, consciousness coming back to him, you turned around in his hold to face him. You loved the way he looked in the morning, his usually perfect hair messy from sleep, his eyes still hazy and blinking open slowly. He looked cute.

One of his favorite things was waking up with you, because it was domestic and soft in a way that was rare for him to come by. You were extra pliant, welcoming his morning cuddles no matter the context. He gave you a lazy smile, “hi.”

“Hi.”

You reached up to push his hair away from his forehead, tender and delicate. Something a lover would do, but your morning brain wasn’t one to think too hard about your actions. The earlier hours of the day were spent together, it was like they didn’t really count, as if acting like a couple in the privacy of his room now wouldn’t matter.

He sighed happily, rolling over to lay himself on top of you, face squished against your chest and his arms hugging you close.

“Steven!”

He just giggled, knowing you were smiling too. You only called him that teasingly, trying to be serious with him when you couldn’t.

“Mmm, you’re so comfy.”

“And you’re squishing me.”

He gasped, mocking offense and pushing himself up to hover over you and let you look at his dramatically pinched face, “I am not!”

“Don’t pout at me, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Heyyy. Don’t be mean, I'm fragile in the morning.”

“Sorry, c’mere.”

To both of your surprise, you placed both of your hands on his cheeks, pulling him down for a soft kiss to make him feel better, even though he wasn’t actually upset. You two never kissed, or did anything in the mornings. Usually, you’d just get up and get dressed. Something about today felt different.

It was a short kiss, but when Steve pulled away and looked over your pretty face, your eyes fuzzy and glancing at his lips, he dove back in. He was propped up using one arm, bent just above your head so he could stay close, the other running over your side.

Your hands shifted so one was buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, keeping him close to you, while the other was hugged around his shoulders, feeling the muscles there ripple and shift with his movements. It became heated, the kind of kiss that was bound to lead to something else, and it felt exciting, new.

Steve’s hips began to shift against yours, the morning stiffy he sported no longer ignored. You pushed your pelvis up to meet in the middle, a delicious friction that felt even better with your newly awoken senses, minds still a little bit tired, but completely focused on each other.

When you let out a whimper, Steve slipped his tongue into your mouth, the kiss going languid. Slowed down and relaxed, but just as arousing as before. Somehow, with the pace going down, it made everything better, stronger.

“Steve, please,” you whined between kisses, feeling needier with every push of his hips and stroke of his tongue. It seemed like this pocket of time belonged to only you and him, the rest of the world falling away in the midst of the risen sun and morning dew.

“What is it, honey?”

“Need you.”

“Know you do. I’ve got you.”

His hand that was steady on your waist moved down, pushing your pj shorts and underwear aside to slip his fingers down to where you were wet, a sigh escaping you when he moved up to your clit. He knew exactly how to wound you up, how to make you feel good. He had plenty of time to learn you and your body and it was easy now. Easy to get you there.

“Steve. Stop teasing.”

“Sorry. Can't get enough of you.”

He kissed you again when he slipped a finger into you, swallowing the moans you gave him. You were squirming under him, needy for anything he’d give and he fucking loved it. The way you gave yourself to him, trusted him.

Your first orgasm was coaxed out of you with the expertise of his fingers, and the encouragement of “that’s it. Atta girl.”

Your back arched enough to press your chest to his, your head digging into the pillow beneath it. He kept going until you couldn’t take it anymore, knowing the kind of whimper that was a signal of you needing a minute to come back.

Steve stood up as you caught your breath, sucking his coated fingers into his mouth before helping you strip and pulling his boxers down, both of you left bare. You’d seen each other naked many times, but in the golden glow of sunlight it was special. He grabbed a condom from his nightstand and put it on before crawling back over you, giving you another dizzying kiss before lining himself up.

“You want this?”

You nodded, arms slipping around his neck, “I want you, Steve.”

“Fuck.”

He kissed you again as he pushed himself in, distracting you partially so you’d relax for him. Once he was all the way there, he pulled back just enough to lean his forehead against yours, your noses brushing against each other at each push and pull of his hips.

“You’re beautiful. So good for me.”

“More, please.”

He could never deny you when you asked so prettily. A whininess to your voice that made him feel special because he brought it out of you. He’s the one who made you feel this way.

Steve moved slow and deep, brushing against all the right spots that had you moaning and wrapping your legs around his waist to let him in even more. He kissed you all over, a peck to your forehead, your nose, then spongy lips trailing down your neck to kiss at your throat.

Sounds escaping both of you without control, senses full of each other and nothing else. You and Steve had sex often, but never like this. Never in this intimate way that seemed much more like making love than simply fucking.

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweet girl. You wanna come for me?”

“Steve.”

“I know, I’ll get you there.”

And he did, the hand that wasn’t needed to hold himself up sliding over the hill of your breasts and down to rub circles against your clit, pushing you over the edge yet again.

“There you go. So pretty.”

Your second orgasm washed over you, and before he could even react, you flipped Steve over so you were on top, straddling his thighs and riding him slow and steady. Your hands were braced on his chest at first, but at that look of pleasure and bliss on his face you leaned down to kiss him.

With each grind of your hips, your chest would slide against his, as close as you could get. He held your hips, helping you along and making sure you were feeling the best you could.

After letting you lead for a bit, he planted his feet on the bed, giving him the steadiness to meet your hips and thrust into you. Your face was buried in his neck after that, moans falling into his ear and a hand cradling his head, the other squeezing the pillow in your fist.

“Steve. Want you to come.”

“I will, babe. Can you give me another first?”

All you could do was nod against his skin, and he felt it, giving him encouragement to speed up just enough to have you pulse around him one more time. He came with you then, a hand coming to the back of your neck to guide you to look at him. Your eyes locking in a way that was so intimate, so full of devotion it felt like the fabric of your relationship shifted right then.

“God. You feel so good. So, so perfect for me.”

The only things leaving your mouth were curses and whimpers of his name. Both of you coming and then relaxing together. You all but collapsed on top of him when you both finished, spent and completely fucked out.

“You okay, sweet girl?”

“Think you turned my brain to mush,” you mumbled against his sticky skin. He chuckled, running his hands up and down your back to soothe you, to bring you back to him.

“How ‘bout a shower?”

Together? That wasn’t something you’d done before, surprisingly. You would always take turns, avoiding the intimacy a shared shower would provide. The feelings that might escape.

This morning, everything shifted though, and it was like nothing else even existed. So, naturally, you said yes.

Neither of you were in a rush to get up, though, taking the time to come down from the events of the morning before moving over to the bathroom. You’re almost positive you would have fallen asleep laying on top of Steve if he didn’t roll you over so he was able to pull out of you and get rid of the condom. After that, he disappeared from the room for a minute to turn on the shower.

When he came back in, smiling at the sight of you so sleepy on his bed, he almost felt bad for disturbing that. He knew you wanted to wash off though, and he couldn’t deny that he was giddy at the idea of showering together. It was something couples did, not something that was mixed in with a supposed feeling free arrangement.

He walked over and scooped you up bridal style, not wanting to let the water run for too long.

“Steven! I can walk.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to carry you.”

“You’re sweet.”

“I try my best.”

He set you down once you were in the bathroom, and you got in the shower right away. You didn’t want to give yourself time to overthink this new part of your relationship with Steve, and everything this morning might mean. The warm water relaxed your muscles, eased your mind ever so slightly.

Steve joined you quickly, stepping in behind you so his chest was almost pushed against your back. When you tilted your head to let your hair get wet, he snuck a quick kiss to your forehead that left you flustered. He was a soft person, and he cared so deeply for the people around him and you knew that. That’s why this was scary to you, because the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him or your friendship.

He reached for a bottle of shampoo, one that happened to be yours because he even kept your favorite brands of soap in his shower, and squeezed some onto his hand, “can I?”

“Mhm. You have good hands.”

“Dirty.”

“Your mind is dirty, that’s all.”

He massaged the suds into your scalp, probably longer than needed because he enjoyed the way you sighed at the feeling, the way your body seemed to calm even more under his touch.

He rinsed your hair and did conditioner too, knowing to only put it in the ends of your hair because he was an expert on the subject.

“Why’re you so good at this?”

“They don’t call me The Hair for nothing.”

You laughed, you had heard the story of The Hair and it never failed to be funny to you, “I can't believe people actually called you that.”

“What? You don’t think my hair is my best feature?”

You were facing him now, watching him wash his own hair while you stayed close to him. You thought about it. You knew he was teasing but it made you wonder. You couldn’t help but think of his eyes and how expressive they were, the sweetness of honey that was so easy to get lost in.

“Your hair is nice, but I like your eyes. Your eyes are really, really pretty.”

His hands paused in his hair, his head moving to look down at you, at the sincerity of your words. He decided then that you didn’t have a best feature, because there wasn’t a single bad one about you. You were perfect, and sometimes he’s convinced that you’re an angel that was sent to him as a protector. Someone meant to keep him grounded without any effort at all.

He was in love with you.

The thought had been floating in his mind for months, but here and now, he knew it for sure. He loved you and he thinks he has for almost as long as he’s known you. This moment of intimacy, of trust and peace, it confirmed it for him.

He was scared that if he opened his mouth to speak, he’d let those words slip out, so instead he just gave you a quick kiss. Chaste but still tender as ever. Then, he just went back to washing his hair with his mind full and his heart even fuller.

-

After finishing up in the shower and getting dressed in fresh clothes—yours from the drawer he left empty just for you—Steve made you breakfast, the saccharine haze of the morning still present. It stretched across the day.

The hours slipped away when you were with Steve, time didn’t really exist. You watched TV cuddled up on the couch, comfortable enough to have a nap together there. He challenged you in board games, but was ready to let you win if you showed any bit of disappointment in how it was going. You spent a bit of time reading, Steve asking if you would do it out loud so he could listen along.

It felt natural to spend so long with him, like this wasn’t only his home, but yours too. Maybe that was an odd thing to feel, but it was true. Being with Steve in his expansive house, just the two of you, felt right. Like you belonged there with him. That was another point to add to your list of things to overthink.

You had a lot to figure out because all of this had to mean something.

Steve never wanted the day to end. He loved having you with him in the house that was so often empty of company. He loved being able to spend so much uninterrupted time with you in a way that really made him wish for things he shouldn’t be wishing for. A relationship with you, for example. A real one where you would call him your boyfriend and he could call you his girlfriend. Where one day you’d become his wife and you could live together, just like this, every day.

In an attempt to stretch the best day of his life even further, Steve had the idea to ask you out. He’d do it in a way that was casual enough to pass as a friend's thing, when really he wanted it to be more.

“You hungry, babe?” He asked you from his spot on the couch, the two of you having gone back to watching pointless television.

“I could eat. Why?”

“Was wondering if you wanted to go to that diner that’s just out of town. You know, with the staff on roller skates and milkshakes and stuff.”

“Sometimes, Steven, you have really great ideas.”

“What do you mean sometimes! I have great ideas, like, hourly. At least.”

He enjoyed the way you laughed at that, replying to him with, “gosh, you’re a dork. You’re lucky I like you so much. Let’s go.”

You’re lucky I like you so much.

He knew you probably meant it jokingly, but he was stuck on it. How much was it? Enough for it to be romantic? Was there something there after all? He was convinced he’d been imagining the shift that was felt since you both woke up this morning, but maybe it was real. Maybe it was something clicking into place.

“The luckiest. C’mon, I’ll drive.”

-

The diner was tucked away, standing by itself on its lot outside of Hawkins. Outside, it was just a regular building with a bright, lit up sign attached to it. Inside, however, it was perfect.

The checkered floors, the jukebox sat in the corner, the pink countertops and booth seats. Everything about the space was bright and fun and you wished you knew about it earlier. At the same time, you’re glad Steve’s the one who’s showing it to you.

He watched your face as you looked around, the smile on your face and the glint in your eyes. He knew it wasn’t something huge, but he loved this diner and he’s only ever been here alone. Until now.

“This is so cute, Steve!”

“I knew you’d like it.”

His hand on your lower back guided you over to a booth tucked by the front window of the diner. When you sat down, he opted to sit next to you instead of across, and you couldn’t deny the way it made your face heat and your stomach flutter.

The menus were already on the table, allowing you to pick it up and take a look. The other menu was on the other side, where Steve chose not to sit, so, he just leaned in with his head next to yours to read it with you. His chin was perched on your shoulder, his arm slung around you and resting lazily on your hip.

“What do you think, babe?”

“Everything looks really good. Can you just choose for me?”

“You trust me with your meal? I’m so honoured.”

“Yeah. You should be.”

You both turned to look at each other, smiling at the ease you felt when chatting. Your smiles faded when the proximity of your faces was realized, your noses nearly touching. It was confusing, a question of who will move first, and will they pull away or get closer.

The small moment was broken when a waitress in roller skates approached the table, her light pink uniform and big welcoming smile coming into view.

“Hi, Steve! Good to see you again. You’ve brought someone, this time!”

“Hi, Brenda. I did. This is the girl I told you about.”

Brenda seemed sweet, and genuinely happy to meet you. It wasn’t her fault you felt a little jealous at the idea of Steve coming here alone, being taken care of by someone so pretty and kind like her. What the hell was wrong with you?

“Oh! Yes, I’ve heard so much. I’m Brenda, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Um, yeah. Hi. You too.”

If she noticed your apprehensiveness, she didn’t let it show, while Steve just squeezed your hip a little to remind you he was there. With you, not her.

“What can I get you guys?”

“Okay, I’ll have the usual. Burger and fries. She’ll have the same, and a vanilla milkshake, please. Two straws.”

“I’ll be right back with that.”

She skated away, somehow elegantly and it was impressive. You think you could like her, if you just sorted out whatever that pinch in your gut was at the wink she gave Steve before pushing off.

You looked at him, now leaning against the seat with his head tilted towards you. He was really pretty, you’d always known that. It was present here in the lighting of the diner, the fluorescent lights beaming and yet, he was beautiful.

“Two straws?”

He gave you a little tap on your nose, grinning at the cute way you scrunched it up, “duh. One for you, one for me. C’mon, pretty, keep up.”

“My bad, Steven.”

“Mhm. Said you trusted me. Did I choose well?”

“So far so good. Gotta taste it to know for sure though.”

“Dirty.”

“That’s your mind!”

“It’s your fault. You bring it out of me, I guess.”

Bring what out of him? Being dirty? You already knew that, the sex you were having spoke for itself. But he sounded like he was talking about something else, like maybe he just meant his laid back, teasing behaviour was something saved for you. Or, maybe you were just thinking too hard.

Steve loved the way he felt with you, how he could be himself without any second thoughts. He liked that you never knew him in his high school days, that you never knew him as ‘King Steve,’ only as Steve, or Steven—which was reserved for you. It was a relief to meet someone and not have their judgement of his past weighing down on him.

While you had been told about the person he used to be, you only knew who he was now. That was really special to him. Because he was proud of the person he became, and that’s who you met, who you chose to spend time with.

“I’m really happy you moved here.”

You looked at him, noting the sincerity in his words and the hand that wasn’t on your hip moving to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You really looked at him, at the situation. You couldn’t help but notice how much this felt like a date, and how you really wanted it to be one.

It was like a pocket of your mind had been emptied, revealing your feelings for him right there, all at once. He was the sweetest boy you ever met, with the kindest eyes and the softest heart. He was someone you wanted to spend every minute with, and you don’t think you could ever get sick of him.

He was someone you loved. Someone you might even be in love with.

Something changed there in that booth for you. How you looked at him then. It turned into something more, or maybe it was always there and the only difference was now you knew it. Either way, things weren’t the same.

“Yeah, I’m really happy I moved here, too.”

He gave you a quick kiss, without a thought. He liked kissing you, he wanted to do it and he figured that in this almost empty diner, he was allowed. He wished he was allowed all of the time; in front of your friends or anytime at all that wasn’t the two of you sleeping together.

He just wanted you to be his, and he to be yours. Completely.

A peck on your cheek followed, then your nose and forehead. When you giggled at his actions, he pulled away, looking at your smiling face and feeling special that he’s the one who made you react like that.

“You’re a great person, Steve. I mean that.”

“Stop.”

“It’s true! I’m glad you’re in my life.”

“Sometimes I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It sort of slipped out, his thoughts travelling into words quicker than he could process. It was true, though. You were a vibrant light in the town of Hawkins. Exactly what he needed.

Then, your food was brought out, your vulnerable conversation cut off by hungry stomachs and a yummy meal. Steve stole fries from your plate, he teased you with fake gags when you dipped yours in the milkshake. You forced him to try it and his mind was changed, of course.

From the counter, Brenda observed the two of you with a smile. Steve told her about his feelings for you, because she wasn’t on the inside. She didn’t know any of his and your friends, and she was able to give him advice without any bias.

Seeing you in the flesh next to him was even more proof of how he felt. He was practically glowing because of you, his eyes on you with so much emotion she couldn’t believe you weren’t already together. She just shook her head and brought over the bill, giving Steve another wink because she knew.

On the ride home, he rested a hand on your thigh, keeping contact with you like he absolutely had to. You knew he was a physical touch kind of person, and today really brought it out of him.

He wanted to take you back to his, to spend another day like this one all over again tomorrow and the next day, and the next. He wanted to hold you in his sleep and wake you up with kisses and love and all of that couple shit.

“Can you come to mine again?”

“I want to, but my mom will lose her mind if I’m not home tonight. You know how she is.”

“She’s nice.”

“Because she likes you!”

“How could she not? I’m a charmer.”

“Just take me home, Steven. You dork.”

“Alright, alright.”

Even on the short drive, you managed to doze off. Steve’s hand on your leg a calming weight that kept you grounded, the lull of the music playing making your eyes heavy. Your head lying awkwardly against the seat in a way that was sure to hurt your neck if you stayed there for too long.

Steve didn’t even notice you’d fallen asleep until he pulled into your driveway, glancing over at you to say bye and finding your eyes shut and your breathing steady. Yet again you showed that you trusted him, to get you home, to take care of you. He fucking loved you.

He really didn’t want to disturb you, you looked so peaceful and he just wanted to let you stay that way. But, he knew that you had to get home, he didn’t want to upset your mom or you in any way.

Steve decided to wake you slowly, first cupping your face in one of his hands and letting his thumb brush back and forth against your skin, then using his other hand to grab the hand laying in your lap, squeezing.

“Hey, we’re here, babe.”

You shifted slightly, your head nuzzling into his palm in your drowsy state—something Steve found adorable—and breathing in deep. The boy squeezed your hand again, leaning in closer to kiss your eyelids, your cheek, then backed away again.

You blinked your eyes open then, lazy and so, so soft. “Hey.”

“Hi, sweet girl. You have a nice nap?”

“Mhm. Smells like you in here, ‘s cozy.”

“You’re cute. And we’re in your driveway.”

You hadn’t even noticed you were home, glancing out the window towards your front porch, the lights left on to welcome you home. As much as you loved your room, the bookshelf that sat in there, the stuffed animal you still kept on your bed, you wanted to stay with Steve.

He was a welcomed presence at any time, and now more than ever you knew that. He took care of you, he knew you. What you needed or wanted without a word, Steve could tell. You never had a connection like that with anyone else.

You could say with certainty now, you were in love with him. It wasn’t just your sleepy mind or a random thought, it was true.

“Thank you for today. For dinner and driving me home. You’re the best, Steve.”

“You know you can call me anytime, for anything. I love y- um, spending time with you. You’re my best friend, pretty.”

Did you catch his slip up? He certainly did and his heart was beating wildly in his chest. If you heard what he almost said, you didn’t mention it, only looking at him in that way you always did that made him weak.

Best friend. Right. You knew that, but you were also pretty sure he almost just said something that might have meant you were more. Having just woken up, though, you weren’t sure if you were just making things up.

“I love spending time with you too. I’ll see you later?”

“Of course you will.”

“Okay.”

Before you let yourself overthink it, you leaned over the centre console to plant a sweet kiss on Steve’s lips. He welcomed it, welcomed you and your taste. You didn’t let it go for too long, scared your mom might walk out and see or that you’d get carried away. So, you pulled away, pressed two more pecks to his mouth before opening the passenger door.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, babe.”

He watched you walk up to your front door, waiting for your bedroom light to turn on before backing out of your driveway and taking himself back to his empty house that somehow felt even emptier without you in it.

-

It’s been a couple of days since the diner, since the time spent with Steve that taught you so much. That day made you realize you loved him, made you aware of how you felt and what you really wanted. You wanted him as your boyfriend, as your future and hopefully forever.

You had seen him since, but not separately from the group. It was full of glances and smiles and teasing. Your dynamic hadn’t really changed, at least not when you were around others, you weren’t sure you could say the same for your alone time.

Tonight, you had plans with Steve and the older crew. There was a bar type thing outside of town that seemed exciting enough, more so than the Hideaway, and with the fake IDs Eddie got you all, you’d be in no problem.

You were finishing getting ready in your bathroom, grateful you were the last person on the way to the bar because you needed the extra time. You were carefully applying your mascara when you heard the honk outside, letting you know your ride was here.

You hurried down the stairs, trying to put your shoes on as quickly as possible on the way, then, you were out the door. You spotted Eddie’s van right away, quickly walking to the back door.

The van was spacious, but always seemed to look full with your friends in it. Eddie in the driver's seat, Robin in the passenger seat with her feet up on the dashboard, Jonathan and Nancy sitting next to each other in the back, and Steve, wearing the sweetest smile at the sight of you.

Your dress was beautiful, but maybe he only thought so because you were the one wearing it. Your hair styled in a way he wanted to ruin, to mess up with his hands. He had it so bad for you and he knew it. Everyone did, really.

“Hey, babe! You look amazing.”

“Thanks. You too, Steve.”

Eddie groaned dramatically, but he was still smiling, “okay enough flirting and get in! Let’s go!”

This time, you listened to Eddie, climbing into the van and shutting the door behind you. Steve didn’t know what came over him when he tugged you down by your waist to sit on his lap, but he was glad he did when you let out the cutest surprised gasp.

He was more comfortable being touchy with you without the kids around, without their incessant questions and lack of filter. Here, he felt like it was more okay, like nobody would really say anything even if they wanted to.

They all knew about Steve’s feelings for you, even if he’d never told them. He became a very transparent person and that vulnerability was more amplified when you were involved. They were also fairly sure there was something going on, and that you felt the same way he did. The two of you weren’t really that great at hiding it.

You were shocked at his actions, considering his usual restraint around your friends, but you can’t say you weren’t buzzing because of it. You settled in his lap, his arms around your waist to keep you steady. It was nice, to feel like you were really his.

If the others felt a type of way about the couple-ish behaviour, they didn’t show it. They just kept the conversation going as normal as it would. Poking fun at Eddie’s driving, asking Robin if she was ready to dance without falling over, checking Jonathan’s temperature because he must’ve been sick if he agreed to going out like this.

It was all in good spirits, spilling laughter and a happy atmosphere.

The closer you got to the bar, the bumpier the roads were, and Steve noticed. He could feel you shift and bounce in his lap every time the car would hit a pothole, could feel you trying to squirm back into a comfortable position after getting jostled a little.

He was about to lose his mind.

When you shifted around again, he gripped your waist harder, stilling your movements.

“You gotta stop moving so much, pretty.” He was whispering, so quiet that you were the only one who could’ve heard him. His mouth by your ear and his hands holding you still.

“What?” You turned your face towards him so your lowered volume could be heard by him. You saw the look on his face, the deep breathing in his chest. Then you felt him. He was hard. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“‘S okay. Just try to be still for me.”

“I will. We’re almost there. Sorry again.”

“Not your fault you turn me on.”

“Shh! Steven!”

“Oh stop, they're too loud to hear us.”

You shook your head and turned back towards the front, trying your best to remain steady so Steve could get a break. You were flustered at the reminder of the affect you had on him, of how you made him react to your body without knowing it.

You and Steve joined back in on the main conversation after that, hearing the tail end of Robin’s story about an angry customer from the day before. It was hard to focus, though. With the hands splayed wide against you and the thoughts about what could be.

Eddie pulled into the parking lot of the bar shortly after that, turning the car off then glancing at the rest of you with that mischievous look that could only ever be an Eddie face. “You guys ready to get fucked up?”

“Who says we’re getting fucked up?” Nancy, the supposed responsible one, replied.

“Well, miss Wheeler, since I’m the chauffeur and can’t drink tonight, you’re all doing it for me!”

You giggled at your friend's train of thought, “sounds like a solid plan, Eds. You’re gonna be in charge of all of us?”

“Yes and I’ll be great at it! You’ll see.”

Steve leaned his head against yours, “enough chit chat, let’s get in there!”

“Patience, Steven.”

But you were already getting up, and getting out of the van, Steve following. Everyone else did, too, and you all made your way towards the doors, IDs and your best poker face at the ready.

As promised, you got in easily, and then you were all headed to order drinks. Steve’s hand found yours in the crowded space, gripping it to make sure you stayed close to him and he knew you were there. It was sweet, and you squeezed his hand because of it.

Drinks were ordered and downed, the second round for sipping slower. At first, you all stuck together, trying to talk over the noise, but eventually you split off. Nancy and Robin pulled you onto the dance floor with a new drink in hand before you could protest. Steve and the other two boys finding a spot to stand and lean and watch you all, making sure you were okay.

“So, Steve, when are you gonna fess up?”

“What?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. You and Steve were driving him nuts because he knew about the feelings and he knew it would work. It was just taking so long.

“Oh, come on Harrington. That you love her? That there’s something going on. We can all tell.”

“Nothing’s going on.. um. Yeah.”

“Back me up here, Byers.”

Jonathan had a way of speaking that was very persuasive, very matter-of-fact, and that’s why Eddie roped him into the conversation. He needed assistance in his match-making task.

“Steve, it’s kinda obvious. You look at her like she’s the sun, or something. Just admit it.”

You look at her like she’s the sun. Maybe that’s because you are, in a way. The brightest star that keeps him warm and relaxed and cheery. He only hoped he wouldn’t get burnt in your rays.

“Okay. So what? She’s my friend. Yeah.”

“Cut the bullshit. You love her and there’s something there. Just tell us. We can give great advice.. look at Byers over here, he’s in a great relationship.”

“Jesus, we’re having sex. You happy?”

“And you haven’t told her how you feel because..?”

What a great question that was. Steve didn’t even know the answer, because there were so many reasons. You might not feel the same, you might get totally freaked out and pull away from him. Or, you could love him back and he could ruin it because he thinks that’s what he’s best at. Messing things up.

“I don’t know.”

Jonathan spoke more reassuringly, “trust me, she feels the same way. She talks to Nancy about you.”

“Oh. Good to know, thanks.”

You talked about him? Was it good? Did you worry about every little thing like he did? Worry about whether he felt the same way or how to go about things in the future?

That was a lot to think about.

He didn’t have the time to do so, though, because when his eyes were back on you, he saw a guy talking to you. He saw you laugh at something that he said and then he saw him hold out a hand to dance with you. He saw you take it.

He felt like shit.

You were tipsy, just enough to be giggly and happy. When the stranger asked you to dance you didn’t even realize he was flirting, you only agreed because you lost Nancy and Robin and this seemed fun.

Steve downed his drink and walked onto the floor, his eyes focused on you and that fucking guy you were dancing with. In your defence, there was a distance between you and the stranger, not even touching other than the hand he held. That was enough to make Steve jealous, though.

When you saw Steve walking over you waved to him with excitement. Your grin was inviting and it almost made Steve forget about why he was walking over there in the first place. Almost. But the stranger came into view once more, and his jealousy flared up again.

“Steve! Dance with me!”

You let go of the stranger when Steve got close, opting to hold onto him instead. You stumbled a little and Steve caught you with ease, the stranger disappearing into the crowd. You weren’t even drunk, only slightly fuzzy, but it was enough that mixed with the atmosphere, you were feeling extra giddy.

He felt his past annoyance fade, because you were literally tripping to be with Steve instead of that guy. He was who you wanted to dance with, really. Who was he to deny you of that?

“Show me your moves, pretty.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, his going around your waist loosely to give you room to move. You grinned at him, happy to have the contact and time with Steve. Your hips swayed to the best of whatever song was playing, eyes locked on Steve and his on you.

“Why aren’t you dancing, Steven!”

“You’re too good, I can’t compare.”

“Don’t care, dance with me.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me, honey.”

“‘Kay. So just listen to the music, right? Then you gotta move to it.”

He tried, but ended up looking more like a dad at a barbecue than a pretty boy in a bar. You bit your lip to hold in your laugh, but failed, and he pouted at you for it.

“What?”

“You’re gonna need so many lessons.”

“Hey! I’m not bad. Maybe it’s my teacher's fault.”

“No way. You said yourself, I’m too good.”

“Got me there,” he kissed your cheek, distracting you with his soft lips. The lightest touch from him managed to take your mind off of whatever was happening beforehand. It was baffling to know that someone had that much power over you, but you felt safe knowing that person was Steve.

Steve continued to try and dance the way you instructed, often failing but eventually getting better, able to keep rhythm with you. You were having fun, not a care about the world around you.

After a while, your mouth was dry from the lack of a drink and constant movement, “Steve, ‘M thirsty.”

“Don’t move, I’ll get you some water. Sound good?”

“Mhm. You’re the best,” you gave him a quick peck and he was off. You didn’t really think about kissing him, it was a reflex that you couldn’t control.

From different spots scattered around the place, your friends all collectively saw you and Steve’s quick kiss. Various reactions of eye rolls, smiles, and eyebrow raises ensued but they were all thinking the same thing. When would you two finally get together?

After the collective moment of briefly watching you two interact, they went back to whatever they were doing before. Eddie trying to convince the bartender to give his band a slot, Robin playing a game of darts against a random stranger, Nancy and Jonathan creating narratives for strangers throughout the place.

You waited for Steve and stayed put as promised, but got antsy when he was taking a while. To be fair, it had probably only been five minutes, but any time without him felt longer. You stood on your tip toes trying to find him, when you did, you wished you hadn’t.

He was talking to a girl, a pretty one. Damn it.

Her hair was shiny and soft and seemed perfectly in place even in the sweaty atmosphere. Her smile perfect with teeth that looked super clean and white. Worst of all, her hand was on his arm as she laughed at one of his jokes. Jokes that should be meant for you.

Jealousy was a bitch.

You wanted to push your way over there, to nudge her away from him and take her spot. You wanted to have your hand on him and you wanted to be on the receiving end of his humour. You hated the feeling, like reality was coming back to you because he wasn’t yours, he never had been.

Then, the stranger from earlier was next to you again.

Steve was graciously turning the girl down. She was really pretty, seemed nice, too. She wasn’t you, though. He made some kind of self deprecating joke to make her feel better and he shifted at the arm she placed on him. Lately the only touch he welcomed was yours. He apologized to her, grabbing his two waters off the counter and turning around to find you.

He didn’t like what he saw.

The guy who you danced with for like two minutes earlier in the night was back, leaned in way too close to you for Steve’s liking. Rationally, somewhere in his mind Steve knew it was probably just so you could hear him. But, that’s the funny thing with jealousy, rational thoughts go out the window.

He wanted to storm over and push the guy away from you, to tell him to fuck off and stop trying because you were his. But that was a lie. You weren’t really his, and he wasn’t yours. You weren’t doing anything wrong, you weren’t even touching the guy and still, Steve was fuming.

Instead of storming, Steve walked as casually as he could muster until he was behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you against him. You stumbled a little, surprised because you didn’t see him coming, but when you smelled Steve’s cologne, you relaxed into him.

“Here’s your water, babe.”

“Thanks.”

You chugged it down, and while you drank, Steve stared the other boy down. He was conveying a message with his fixed gaze.

She’s taken. Go away. She’s with me, not you.

The guy walked away, muttering something along the lines of ‘asshole,’ under his breath and retreating. The relief Steve felt was immediate, because you were in his embrace, after all.

You finished your water, feeling refreshed and clear. The song playing was a great one, and you started to sway again, this time right against Steve who was still holding you against his front. This time, he moved with you easily. His hips grinding against your ass not so subtly and you loved it.

It was getting arousing, the way he groaned in your ear when you moved a certain way, the grip on your waist tightening as if he had to let out tension somehow. He was turned on and you knew it, you felt it.

When you pushed yourself into him harder, he couldn’t take it anymore and leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear, “bathroom. Now.”

He was walking away before you could muster a reply, but he knew you’d follow.

You did, staying a few paces behind him but making sure you could see where he was going. He walked into the hallway with the bathrooms with you in tow, heading into the furthest one from the rest of the bar.

As soon as you were through the door, he was rushing to kiss you and press you against it, flipping the lock so nobody would disturb you. He pushed himself against you, his hands wandering all over like they couldn’t settle. You had one hand in his hair, the other squeezing his shoulder.

It was like all of the built up tension throughout the night had finally snapped. The car ride over with you on Steve’s lap, the glimpses of jealousy, the dancing together that eventually brought you here.

The kiss was a mess of tongues, fast paced and probably the most heated you’d ever felt with Steve. You didn’t know if it was the environment of the bar, if it was the shift from the perfect day rearing its head, or if it was everything you couldn’t say being conveyed.

Steve pulled you off the door, walking you over to the sink and helping you to sit up on the counter where he could fit himself between your thighs. His hands cradled your head for a minute, kissing you again with so much passion, so much force, your mind was a blur of Steve and nothing else.

His hands then traveled up your legs, pushing the skirt of your dress up along with them until it was up around your waist, leaving your underwear in sight. His kisses shifted down to your neck, then he pulled the collar of your dress down to suck a hickey into your skin where it could be hidden later. A reminder for you, and nobody else.

Then, he was kneeling, his lips now moving up your legs until he was teasing the insides of your thighs, riling you up.

“Steve.”

“Hm?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Thought you liked to be teased, pretty. You’ve been teasing me ever since you got into the damn van.”

You scoffed, “you’re the one who pulled me onto your lap.”

“Always blaming me, huh?”

You were about to reply when you were cut off by your own gasp at the feeling of Steve’s fingers finding your clit over your underwear.

“Steve, come on.”

“What is it, honey? Tell me what you want.”

Your hips were squirming, searching for relief, “please touch me. Mmm, want your mouth.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Definitely not because he’d been dying to taste you since he had you on his lap. He moved your panties aside, and leaned in to lick a stripe up to your clit. He was calculated and quick, knowing exactly what to do to please you.

You leaned back, holding yourself up with one hand and the other buried in his hair, your legs thrown over his shoulders. You couldn’t help but moan when he sucked your clit into his mouth, grateful for the blaring music that blocked out any noises you made.

As good as he was making you feel, you couldn’t wait any longer to have him, so you pulled him back using your grip on his hair. He looked up at you, slightly concerned and confused.

“Something wrong?”

“Not at all. Just don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Yeah? You want me?”

“So bad.”

He stood up, letting your legs fall from his shoulders and leaning in to kiss you. His hands were busy finding his wallet, then the condom that was in it. The kiss grew messy due to Steve’s distraction, and you moved to kiss at his neck, giving him some room to breathe.

While Steve ripped the package open, your hands worked quickly to undo his belt and his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear enough to free him of his confines.

He groaned, slipping the condom on and tossing the wrapper aside before pulling you closer to him so you were sat on the edge of the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck.

“Still okay? You’re ready for me?”

“Yes, Steve. Please.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

Steve didn’t waste any more time, lining himself up and pushing into you with ease considering how wet you were, and how in tune you were with his body. He gave you a second to adjust, but when your legs squeezed around him, pushing him deeper, his resolve collapsed.

He pulled himself out of you almost completely before pushing back in, quick, hard, deep. His grip was tight around your back, keeping you steady and close. Steve was a careful partner, even in more intense moments like this one.

Something about the way he was fucking you, the added roughness to his actions had your mind losing focus of anything that wasn’t Steve.

“Fuck. You feel so good,” he was breathing heavily, moans falling into the space between you. He kissed you again, but it quickly became an uncoordinated thing because of his pace. The kiss broke but the two of you stayed close, your mouths hovering over each other to breathe in every sound.

It wasn’t long before he felt you tightening around him, your pelvis squirming against his because you were close. He drew back enough to snake a hand down to your clit, giving you the added sensation you needed to reach your end.

“That’s it. You’re gonna come for me, huh?”

All you could manage was a nod, your mouth agape to heave in as much air as you could, your eyebrows scrunched with that expression he knew you made before you came.

“Go on, pretty. All over me.”

“Fuck. Steve.”

Your head fell back, your orgasm hitting you as hard as Steve’s movements. He kept going, pushing you through it and making it more intense than it already was. He pulled out of you when he could tell you were sensitive, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“You didn’t come?”

“Not yet, babe. Want you to again. Can you?”

“Shit. Yeah.”

He lifted you off the counter, setting you down and spinning you so that you faced the mirror, bent over the sink with Steve standing behind you. He nudged your legs apart so he could fit between them, your skirt still flipped up to give him access.

Steve’s eyes locked onto yours through the mirror, checking your face to see if you were ready to go again, and your eager nod told him you were. He pushed into you again, his pace picking up right away. His hips smacking against your ass, an arm around your middle and a hand teasing your nipples through the fabric of your dress.

Your eyes squeezed shut at the heat of it all, the overwhelming pleasure leaving you completely fucked. Steve didn’t like that, though, and he moved a hand onto the back of your neck.

“No. Open your eyes.”

You obeyed, it was hard not to when he used a commanding tone that was harsher than what you’d heard from him before. Your eyes opening and looking at him in the mirror yet again.

“Good girl. Watch me fuck you. Who’s making you feel like this?”

“You, Steve. Only you.”

“That’s right, only me. Nobody else can get you like me, huh?”

Your response got stuck in your throat after a hard thrust from Steve, a moan coming out instead. He was so completely lost in you that he didn’t really know what he was saying, only that he wanted it to give a message.

Mine.

He never thought he’d be a possessive person, but he supposes being in love with someone who he only has sex with would complicate things. Love wasn’t what he was conveying with this round, he was fucking the jealousy out of your systems, reminding himself that you only gave yourself to him this way. For now, at least.

He pulled you up from your spot leaning on the countertop, your head falling back onto his shoulder and your hand grabbing the back of his head. His pace kept up through it all, chasing his high as well as yours.

“Please.”

You didn’t even know what you were asking for, relief, anything at all. You were encompassed by Steve and his feel, his smell, you didn’t have time to think about anything other than how he was making you feel.

Your legs were shaky and Steve’s grip around your middle played a big part in keeping you upright. He was working you both up to a sweat, foreheads damp and bodies warm.

“Can feel you squeezing me, pretty. You gonna come again?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.”

“Never gonna stop with you.”

You couldn’t stay up anymore, and collapsed over the counter yet again when you felt your second orgasm coming on, and Steve followed. He leaned over you while he got you through it, encouragement and praises muttered into your ear between his own moans.

“Fucking shit,” he came with you then, his hips losing rhythm until he was stilled in you and all that was left were sounds of you two trying to catch your breaths.

When the two of you came down, Steve’s previous roughness seemed to melt away completely, his hands running over you and his forehead against the back of your shoulder.

He got up after a couple minutes, pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades and pulling away from you to get rid of the condom and right his clothes. He came back to you with a wad of toilet paper in hand, wetting it in the sink and then using it to clean you up.

You hissed at the sensitivity, and he kissed your back again and whispered an, ‘I know, you’re okay,’ into your skin.

He fixed your clothes for you after that, pulling you up and turning you around so you were facing him. Your eye makeup smudged and your forehead shiny with sweat, but your mouth was twisted in a lazy smile.

He brushed your hair away from your face, “did I hurt you?”

“No, you were perfect.”

“Okay. Okay, good.”

He was concerned that he was too harsh with you, letting his emotions get the best of him. While he knows you would tell him if he did something wrong that had to do with sex, he couldn’t help but worry about you.

“We should probably get back out there.”

“Maybe we should fix your makeup a little, honey. You look like you just got fucked.”

You laughed, “that’s completely your fault, you know.”

“Yeah, so let me help.”

He ran some paper towel under the faucet, getting it damp and then using two fingers to grip your chin and tilt your face up to him. He swiped away at the makeup beneath your eyes, his touch soft and careful. When he was satisfied with his job, he pecked your nose and moved to let you look.

You smiled at his softness after sex, his willingness and need to take care of you even in the aftermath. He came back to hug you from behind, to kiss your cheek and your neck once and then perch his chin on your shoulder.

“Still pretty even with a fucked up hairdo.”

“Again, your fault.”

“I know, sorry. Can't help it, I like having my hands on you.”

You glanced down to where they were resting on your stomach, “yeah, I know. I like it, too.”

“That’s my girl.”

That’s my girl. Did he mean that? Did he really want you to be his? You really hoped so because you wanted that more than anything. Tonight was yet another shift in everything, the open affection, the neediness and jealousy that brought you to the bathroom. It had to be more than just sex, there was no way it wasn’t.

That scared you almost as much as it excited you.

“‘Kay, I’ll let you fix your hair and wait in the hall. Sound good?”

“Mhm. Thanks, Steve.”

You shared a quick kiss, another thing that felt like something a boyfriend and girlfriend would share. Something soft and languid. Easy.

He backed away and left the bathroom to let you finish up, and was startled by Eddie walking into the hallway at the same time.

“There you are, Harrington! I’ve been looking for you all over. It’s time to go, Robin and Nancy said so. So we have to listen.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.”

How long had he been in there with you? Shit, Eddie was about to witness you walk out of the same bathroom.

Just as Steve thought it, you walked out into the hall and stopped short when you saw Eddie talking to Steve. Both of their heads turned to look at you, and the long haired boy smirked teasingly because he caught you. Red handed and all.

“Well, look who it is!”

“Um, Steve was just helping me fix my.. hair. Yeah.”

“Okay, sure he was.”

Steve shook his head, turned to look at you and attempted to change the subject because this was awkward. “Eddie said it’s time to head out, you ready?”

“Sure, lead the way.”

You trailed behind the boys, Steve turning to make sure you were still there every couple seconds. Eddie noticed it, “real discreet, Harrington.”

“Shut up, Munson.”

-

The drive home was much more relaxed than the way there, everyone subdued and lazy from the quiet of the car. You sat next to Steve this time, his hand on your leg and your head on his shoulder.

Neither of you cared about any ideas the others would get then, it wasn’t even on your minds.

Besides, they all knew anyway.

They got to your house first, and Eddie turned to look at you with a smile, “we’ve arrived at our first destination, miss.”

“Thanks, Eds.”

“‘Course, see ya.”

A chorus of ‘bye’s and ‘goodnight’s from your friends, a squeeze on your leg from Steve, “I’ll walk you up.”

“Okay.”

You got out of the car, and Steve came along, walking with you up to your porch which really wasn’t far at all, but the gesture was sweet nonetheless.

You paused at your door, Steve’s hand trailing down your arm to grab your hand in his.

“I had a good night. I really like you, pretty.”

Your breath caught, because that could have easily been an admission of feelings. You weren’t sure if he was saying it that way, or if he even realized. He called you his best friend, that must be what he meant.

“I really like you too, Steve.”

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, you know you will.”

“I’m that irresistible, huh?”

“Shut it, Steven.”

He just smiled and shrugged at you, and he leaned in to give you a slow kiss. He was fully aware your friends were probably watching, but he wasn’t worried about that because they knew enough already. He wanted to kiss you, so he did.

You returned it despite the shock you felt at him giving you a kiss goodnight in front of the prying eyes of your nosy friends. You loved Steve, and you’d never turn down a kiss from him.

He pulled away, squeezing your hand that he still held, “Goodnight, babe.”

“‘Night.”

He walked off while you unlocked your door and went in, shutting it behind you and leaning your head onto the wood because what the fuck? Tonight was definitely something you’d have to work yourself up over later.

When Steve got back in the van he was met with everyone’s eyes on him, some smiles and some eyebrows arched at him.

“You’re so gone for her it’s insane.”

“Thank you for the revelation, Robin.”

“Why aren’t you guys dating yet?”

“It’s complicated.”

An exasperated breath from Eddie was heard by everyone, “it’s really not. You guys love each other, simple. Just be honest and then voila! It’s pretty clear to literally everyone that you’re a thing, just make it official and put us all out of our misery.”

Steve just turned to look out the window, he wasn’t in the mood for an intervention or a spell out of what he knew he should do. He was scared to be honest and open, having been hurt in the past because of it.

“Just drive, Eddie.”

-

It’s been almost a week since that night, and things between you and Steve were.. different.

You haven’t had sex since then, no late night phone call that could only be one person, no sleepovers, nothing. You only saw him when you hung out with the others, and it was strange.

You missed him, you missed his touch and his smell and his cuddles in the morning. Being in love with him only made it worse.

You, of course, overthought that night at the bar. Did he ditch you for that girl he talked to? Was he freaked out because your friends knew and he didn’t want anything to do with you if it wasn’t a secret? It felt like he was pulling away from you and it was scary, terrifying.

Steve, on the other hand, realized something after the bar. He realized that you had feelings for him too because why else would you welcome his touch so readily at any moment, why else would you treat him the way you did. Maybe Eddie had a hand in this realization, but either way, it was finally in Steve’s head.

He felt the change in you and it scared him. Of course Steve wanted to be with you, but he was so nervous that something would go wrong. The last thing he wanted was to lose you and your friendship because he couldn’t take care of you properly as a girlfriend.

Even though he’d been treating you as his all along, the title made it more real. Made it easier to lose.

The pouring rain was the perfect backdrop to both of your emotions lately. The confusion and indecisiveness on what to do next lingering.

Your thoughts were running wild, faster than you could keep up with, but you knew the one thing you needed to do was be honest with Steve. You needed to tell him how you felt before he pulled away completely, because you weren’t letting that happen. He treated you like a lover would, and you were ready to stop ignoring that.

His house wasn’t too far from yours, so you decided it would be a great idea to bike over in the rain to see him. You guessed people really do act like fools when they’re in love.

A knock on the front door brought Steve out of his whirling thoughts of you and what the hell he was going to do.

He walked over and opened the door to find just the person he was thinking about. You stood in front of him, drenched from the rain and panting. Still beautiful.

“Hi, Steve.”

“What the hell are you doing? You’re gonna get sick. Get in here.”

He pulled you inside by your sleeve, running up the stairs to get you a towel and a change of clothes because he couldn’t go a minute without making sure you were alright. He could worry about why you showed up unannounced after you stopped shivering.

Steve came back and wrapped the towel around you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to give you warmth then kneeling to untie your shoes and help you slip them off. You could’ve done it yourself, he knew that, but he liked to do things for you anyways.

When he stood, he handed you the clothes he brought down for you, some sweats you left in your drawer, and ushered you to the downstairs bathroom to change.

“Go, put these on then we can talk, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

You shut the door softly behind you and changed as fast as you could. Partly because you wanted to talk to Steve as soon as possible, and partly because you were really cold. Biking in the rain was a stupid thing to do but you were about to drive yourself insane with your stressed out thoughts.

Steve was who you needed to see, so you came to see him.

Once you changed, your wet clothes hung up in the shower, you walked out to find Steve. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, his head turning when he heard you approach. You walked around to the front of the couch, sitting down when Steve patted the spot next to him.

“Is everything okay?”

He couldn’t stop worrying, wondering why you showed up this way when usually you’d call him and he’d drive. Something had to be wrong for you to go out in the pouring rain and end up on his doorstep.

It was especially concerning to him because he knew things were off the last few days, and he knew he was pulling away from you for no good reason. He was only doing it because he loved you so much and the idea of messing anything up scared him.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to talk to you.. if that’s okay?”

“‘Course it’s okay, honey. I’m here for you. What’s going on?”

You had to take a deep breath to prepare yourself, to get ready to spill your heart out to Steve. It’s what you came here to do, and as much as you wanted to back out, you couldn’t. You had to see this through even if it’d break you in the process.

“Ever since that night at the bar, things have been weird, don’t you think? We haven’t done anything just us and I miss it. I’ve just been thinking so much and I wanted to come and see you. I wanted to know what was going on because you seem to be pushing me away, and if you wanna end it that’s, um, that’s fine just tell me now.”

Steve was frozen, taking in all of the information you just dumped on him at once. He heard it all but he couldn’t get past the part where you said the reason you came to see him was because he was pushing you away, being different. He had no idea you cared enough to risk a cold—which was like, your least favorite thing ever—just to see him.

“You came all the way here because I was acting differently?”

He was so fucked.

“Yeah. Is that weird?”

“No. No, it’s really sweet. I’m sorry for making you feel bad.”

“Stop. That’s the thing, Steve, you don’t make me feel bad. You do the opposite, really.”

Oh god, you were gonna do it. You were about to confess your love for him and there was absolutely no turning back now. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your palms clammy.

“I do?”

“Yeah. You make me feel so good. Like, the best I’ve ever felt and I don’t just mean.. you know. I mean all the time. Just being around you.”

Holy shit. It was happening. Steve could tell where this was going and he was buzzing. He wanted to tell you first, but he supposed you were braver than he ever could be. He could feel your nerves, though, and he reached over to grab your hands that were fiddling in your lap.

Your eyes flicked to his when he did, encouragement and care written all over his face. It was enough to get you to keep talking.

“So, um. Ever since I moved here and Eddie introduced us, you’ve been my closest friend, and I want to tell you I think you always will be. But, I was hoping maybe we could be more than that?”

“You mean…”

“I mean I’m in love with you.”

“Really?”

Steve was someone who needed reassurance, who needed to know everything because he hated being blindsided, and you knew that. You knew pretty much everything about him.

“Yeah, really. For a really long time. I realized that day, with the diner and stuff. But, I think I’ve loved you since we started.. ya know. I just never knew it.”

“I can't believe this is happening.”

“I’m sorry if it’s not what you wanna hear.. we can forget about it and-”

“No! No, it’s not- I love you, too. I’m in love with you. Have been for months.”

“We’re idiots, aren’t we?”

“Completely. But I do love you. I’m better when I’m with you, better because of you. I want to be with you, and I don’t wanna hide it anymore, okay?”

“So, I’m your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, pretty. Can finally call you my girl.”

“I’ve been yours.. I never thought about anyone else.”

“Me either. I think you're it for me and it’s scary. I don’t wanna lose you and that’s why I’ve been distant. I’m sorry.”

You understood where he was coming from, and you knew that he had a lot of baggage from his past relationships and childhood, you only hoped he’d let you be there to help him carry it. To take some of the weight off his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Steve. Everything’s okay. I love you and nothing’s gonna change that.”

He pulled you into him then, his hand on the back of your neck to guide your lips to his. He kissed you without any restraint, putting all of his love for you there and it felt incredible. It was honest and raw and it was a promise of the future. One with you two together.

You were the happiest you’d been, Steve was fully yours and he was kissing you like he wanted you to know that. You only pulled away when you ran out of breath, leaning your forehead against his and squeezing his hand that was still in yours.

Steve pulled away and smiled that devastating smile at you, his hand still a comfort weight on the back of your neck, his eyes soft and sweet.

“Sleepover?”

“I kinda already told my mom I was staying here.”

He shook his head at you, “presumptuous of you, pretty.”

“I’d like to call it hopeful. And smart! I was thinking ahead.”

“Of course you were.”

The night was full of touches and kisses and teasing. Your dynamic stronger than it was before and it was perfect. It was everything. You cuddled in bed without any hesitation at all, your head on Steve’s chest and an arm tossed over his stomach, his arms hugging you close.

As you were dozing off you felt a kiss to your forehead, an ‘I love you’ spoken into your skin. You said it back and then, you were asleep.

-

When Eddie found out about your relationship with Steve being official, he practically screamed ‘finally!’ before giving you a hug.

“I knew you guys were gonna end up together! Eddie the matchmaker, you’re welcome.”

You and Steve looked at each other and grinned. You were thinking the same thing: maybe you really should be thanking Eddie because if it weren’t for him you two would’ve never met. If it weren’t for him you would’ve gone your whole life without knowing the best boy that was Steve Harrington.

“Thanks, Eds.”

Steve looked at you, and everytime he did he practically had hearts in his eyes. His emotions were written all over him.

“Yeah. Guess I owe you one, Munson.”

-

And it’s just as good as I knew it would be / Stay with me, I don’t want you to leave <3

༄

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[featherstorm2004]

All For One and the power of context

I tend to drift alongside the BNHA fandom as a somewhat casual enjoyer so I haven't really made much posts about the series even if I do like it. Mostly because the things I want to say have already been stated by someone else so, I never felt a need but with these latest chapters I wanted to mention what I believe is Horikoshi"s biggest strength "context".

What I mean by that is his ability to turn seemingly boring or one note characters into some of the most fascinating by showing how these characters upbringings and living situations made them who they are today. And I believe we can all agree this is shown most strongly with the villains, are most recent example being All For One who has made the transformation from a pure evil one note villain to a complex human being within just a few chapters, even if All For One himself would refuse to admit to such humanity.

This can also be seen with other examples such as Mr Compress, Dabi and Toga with the later being the most demonised by the fandom until recent chapters. But for now I wish to focus on All For One as I find his situation to be the most fascinating because unlike the other villains who desperately want to be seen as human and accepted by the world around them, All For One seems almost afraid to admit his humanity and the cruelty of his circumstances.

Ever since All For One was introduced we have been lead to believe by the narrative and All For One himself that he is simply pure evil, that there is no complex reasoning behind what he dose or why he dose it he was simply "born arrogant". But I don't believe that and I don't think Horikoshi wants you to believe that either, it has been displayed to us multiple times in the series that there is no such thing as people who are born evil. I would argue that nature vs nurture is one of the key themes of BNHA.

One key example of this is Endeavour and Dabi, where in the early arcs of the series we are led to believe Endeavour to be this pure evil abusive monster who tormented his family and whilst he was most certainly an abusive prick, Endeavour can't be simplified so quickly with his atonement arc being a clear sign of that. And then there's Dabi who was hated for not caring about his family or friends because of the way he tried to deflect and hide any emotions that weren't pure anger or disgust, then his complete backstory that wasn't from Endeavour's point of view we see almost immediately after the fire he rushes back home to apologies to his family.

The reason I bring these things up is because it displays seamlessly how the lack of context to Dabi and Endeavour's stories led to them to be demonised and simplified into pure evil characters when that is far from the truth.

And I believe a similar phenomenon has begun to scour with All For One, as with the most recent chapters, where we have been allowed to peel back to mask the demon lord just a little bit to see the real man behind the mask of evil. Now dose this mean I am implying that All For One is simply misunderstood or that he can be redeemed? God no but that's not the point, that''s never been the point.

We aren't meant to like All For One or think that he deserves forgiveness but we are supposed to understand him, to deconstruct the layers of the number one villain and understand how he has gotten to this point. To understand that he was a child born in what was essentially an apocalypse with no parents, no name and no one willing to help him because of his quirk, where him and his brother where hunted by hate groups and the government for simply being born different, where he had to not only find a way for himself to survive but also his sickly twin who couldn't help him much due to his illness.

It is this very important context that allows us to understand how a man like All For One came to be. But we must also understand two very important things and that 1) All For One is a liar and 2) he is very childish. At first I thought it was strange how juvenile he acted during these recent arcs and even stranger when he started de-ageing but now I understand why, because the truth of the situation is that All For One never truly grew up from his days as a young child reading comic books with his brother.

In many ways all of this conflict, pain and destruction is merely an extension of that, he is quite literally a child playing at being the big bad in his favourite story. It also explains why he doesn't understand why his brother wants to stay away from him because it's just a game why are you getting worked up over me breaking a few toys? This also would explain all his tantrums first with All Might and now Hawks because they're ruining his game and his story.

Now that's not to say that I think All For One doesn't understand all the pain he's caused or that what he's doing is wrong. But like early Shigaraki he's distance himself to it, it's a similar phenomenon where people in a video game are more willing to do more messed up stuff like murder or bulling a character because they are distanced from it to a point they feel comfortable acting that way just to see what happens.

That's also why I believe All For One clings to his demon persona so much, because if he is truly a demon if he was simply born evil with no ability to feel love or empathy then that also means that he doesn't have to take accountability for his actions because that was simply how he is.

But it's not just about accountability.

I also think the demon persona is a form of self defence for All For One, a way for him to take back control from a world that denied it to him. Like most victims of trauma he is trying to create a way for him to have agency in a situation he originally had no control in, this can be seen in many children who place themselves in the positions of the hero's in the stories they are exposed to, so they too can feel that sense of power and control in they're own lives.

So, that's simply what All For One did only instead of mimicking the hero he decided to mimic the villain. And I think his reasons for doing so are fascinating, at first he relays to the audience and All Might that it's simply a power thing or his desire to rule the world but it's not that simple.

The real reason is surprisingly more human, All For One wants to be loved, to be relied on and trusted. Essentially, All For One desires a family, a community to call his own after being denied one his entire life and this explains a lot about his earlier actions, hell in one of the first vision's Deku receives about All For One he refers to his minions as his "dear friends" and when he is fighting with All Might one of his biggest grievance is how All Might forced his "dear friends" to go under ground.

He even refers to Aoyama as his nephew and gets him and his family to call him uncle, this man is obsessed with the idea of family. Which in turn explains his absolute rage and hatred to all the barriers of One For All as in his eyes they stole the only family he's had since birth, the only person who loved him unconditionally, until he went too far. It's probably the reason All For One chose to fixate on Tenko so much despite having an army of children who could be his successors as not only did he get his revenge by stealing a family member of one of All For One's holders but he also gets to have a child who appears close enough to him and his brother that he could pretend he is actually family.

However, I don't think All For One can admit this to himself, that he is in fact a human being. A human that desires to be loved and love in return because if he dose admit that to himself then he would shatter and he'd have to face all the emotions and consequences that he's been running from for over a century. It would essentially be an ego death for him as everything he's convinced himself he is and what he was taught to be by the world who fears him would suddenly be a lie and he can't handle that.

So, he lies to himself and to the world desperately trying to convince everyone that he is in fact the demon lord, and not a child who desperately clings to fiction. It's tragic in a way as ultimately I believe Yoichi was correct, if given the right care and upbringing All for one could have been the kindest ability in the world, but alas they were not so lucky.

As, for where his story is going I honestly have no idea, he may be killed, he may De-age into nothingness. But I think it's important to remember this context whenever we discus the story of BNHA with all it's flaws it is ultimately about broken people desperately finding a place in the world.

But that's just my opinion.

#boku no hero academia #bnha 407 #bnha #bnha spoilers #mha #my hero academia #all for one #afo #shigaraki yoichi #bnha meta #character analysis #bnha chapter 408

[genericpuff]

I think what gets me the most annoyed about LO currently is how I just don't care about Rachel's attempts to make the story seem more high-stakes than it really is. Apollo has no real power, Kronos was defeated by bees so why should I care about him now, everyone is instantly on Persades' side, Persephone will get any excuse to not hold her accountable for her mistakes, and Ouranos is simply too late-stage and underdeveloped for me to take them seriously. If this is Rachel's attempts to bring people back or keep them around, she's vastly unaware of what her readers actually want and want she's capable of writing. None of this is compelling, it's just frustrating.

You didn't mention it but even the fact that we as readers know now that Apollo can't use Persephone's powers without her actually being in love with him... it's such a narrative buzzkill?? So now we're spending all this time on some "Apollo twist villain" plotline that we know won't lead to him winning because we already know it won't work. IDK if this was Rachel attempting some sort of dramatic irony thing - when audience members are aware of something the characters aren't, ex. the complete misunderstanding that was Juliet's "death" that resulted in Romeo actually dying - then she completely misunderstood how dramatic irony actually works, you can't inform the audience of something the characters don't know if it's something that removes any and all tension. There are no stakes now. We know Apollo can't use Persephone's powers. So we're either gonna get Apollo realizing he can't do it and have that just be his downfall (predictable) OR we're gonna get some sudden retconned plot point that technically Apollo can use her powers because of the assault (big yikes). Or some other third thing that Rachel will inevitably pull out of thin air to write herself out of a corner.

Overall it speaks to her lack of actual storytelling skills - she's alright at coming up with neat standalone ideas, but she's not good at weaving them into a story, and she's especially not good at actually coming up with organic re-interpretations of things that inspire her; rather she often just rips whatever she likes from things she's watched and throws them into LO without any understanding of why those things were actually well written, she puts them in because "well I liked the scene where the Beast got bathed by his house servants so I'm gonna put the same thing in LO!"

It's very much like - dare I say it and possibly invoke many more asks in my inbox - a certain indie production you may have heard of called RWBY. Constantly yoinking elements out of other shows and movies to put into the show, while not understanding why those elements worked so they come across as flat first steps rather than fully developed ideas.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything

[werezmastarbucks]

kevin khatchadourian x female reader timeline of relationship

(actually, a story I am too lazy to write, but which is just clear and palpable in my head)

• you meet him three times

warnings: violence, manipulation, underage relationships (no grooming), mentions of dissecting frogs, abuse (duh), toxic relationship, unpleasant and traumatic first sex, the OC is kinda very, very human and stupid, exactly as a fifteen year old girl should be. School shooting obv. Also, it's ve-e-ery long, but I'm really not in the mood of writing a book here, so, it's just bullet points. Sorry.

author's note: yes! I watched We need to talk about Kevin around 2014, actually. It seems, considering the nature of this whole blog, I've always had the hots for the worst kind of guys. Enjoy my sublimation!

it was so long I had to divide it into two parts. second part

• you're at the same school, and Kevin is closed, brooding and completely antisocial. You constantly see him smile when there's a fight. He never participates in scuffles but seems to observe people; the other half of the time, he just doesn't care about his surrounding at all. Seemingly

• you've been raised to sympathize with the outcasts, reading all the right books and youself, not being the most popular, the smartest or the most beautiful

• at the biology class, you flat out refuse to dissect a frog. You can't stand the sight of dead animals, to say nothing about cutting them with a freaking knife. You close your eyes and shake your head aggressively, while the teacher is getting angry with your childish stubborness

• until you feel that someone is standing next to you. Kevin says 'she doesn't want to cut the frog' assertively, and takes it to his desk. He doesn't look at you a second, but it feels like a momentary salvation

• you're thinking of thanking him; that seems like a nice thing considering he's never talking to people, and always having lunch alone. He has this loner allure, the misunderstood poet, the lone wolf, if you will. You're fifteen.

• your friends tell you 'are you nuts? he's the cat in the bag'

• there are all kinds of rumors about Kevin; about strangling someone as a joke, and swearing, and watching gore.

• "I didn't do it for you", he smiles, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and you misunderstood the incident so badly that it's funny and totally makes you look like an idiot. "I just like to dissect frogs". But he looks at you so intensely that it tells you something more.

• he never goes to PE

• Kevin is bullied from time to time; he doesn't really react to it, like the other children don't even exist. He never replies to nasty remarks, but just watches them, head tilted forward, like a dog ready to bite.

• you wonder why nobody else is worried about this gaze.

• sometimes you catch him watching you during classes as if he's contemplating something. You think yourself some kind of sacred redeemer, not less. You don't look away, you don't realize you're getting yourself into a swamp. You're fifteen

• at one occasion you tell Kevin he doesn't need to be alone all the time, and there are nice people at school who would accept him

• he just grins at everything you say

• the same guy who bullies Kevin the most acrtively, or is trying to, steals your folder containing some notes, your journal and you photo album. He doesn't admit it but laughs in a way that makes it clear

• you go to the teacher, to the principal, but the conversations do nothing to that guy. He's just a bully, just a dumb jock who has very little thought behind his forehead. You're worried; he might not know, but your personal diary is in that folder.

• you confront him with the fists swaying, to no avail

• the next morning, Kevin walks by your desk and throws the folder, complete with everything, in front of you. You watch his back, wondering when he had got it, and whether he had read your diary. One of the entires was about him, and it was embarrassing.

• "he's tall; taller than the other boys. His face is like milk, but he has this pitch-black hair and vampire stare thing going on. He is always quiet, just watches people. He's reeeeeally good-looking, but damn, Khatchadourian might just be nuts like people say"

• your friends wisely advise you not to get involved with him, but you feel so special all of a sudden

• you start fantasizing about being the only girl at school who managed to get through to him

• as you talk, he notices your desire to be special, and uses it. He observes you with your friends, focuses his laser attention on your grades, tries to get into what makes up your world.

• soon, he manages to make you feel like you really are the one person he reacts to. It is incredibly funny to him. He deems you fuckable.

• he's attacking someone in the yard. The guys from the parallel were getting the best out of Kevin, and rightfully so. This time he's had enough. When it's just talking, he didn't care, but physical assault, he couldn't tolerate, because that was crossing his personal borders. So, when one of the boys tried to steal his backpack, Kevin took out a razor he carried with him

• you try to stop the fight and get in between them just in time to shield the other boy, and Kevin slices your arm across

• the boys run away horrified, and Kevin just stands there, disappointed and dark.

• he evaluates the situation, sees that the cut is pretty deep, and watches the gushes of blood leaving your arm. The first seconds you're silent with shock; then it dies down, and you start feeling pain and yelp.

• he cuts off a piece of his shirt and bandages your arm tightly, saying nothing, just lasers you with his glance. The sight of this wound on you, not unlike his own scar, even in the same spot, accidentally. He finds it curious, invigorating. He watches the expression of physical pain on your face and brings you to the medic's office, saying "I sliced her". It feels good to say that.

• there's a conversation at the principal office. You're quiet, he's almost pleased with himself. His excuse is, I was going for another person ¯_(ツ)_/¯

• he gets away with it. You notice his dad dotes on him, and is absolutely blind to anything Kevin does. He buys the legend of 'I brought it for biology class, because I'm used to working with my own instruments' so easily it's astonishing.

• you don't speak for a while, and Kevin doesn't say sorry. He doesn't look guilty and is equally unimpressed that other students start to avoid him even more

• but his presence is like an oil stain, you can't avoid looking. You want to get to the bottom of him, you actively put yourself in this situation. You're fifteen, edgy, you have a crush on the sexy strange bad guy.

• you catch him after classes and tell him, whatever you're feeling, you don't have to. There are good people, that are worthy of your time. You don't mean yourself, but you're trying to make him defrost a little

• for some reason, the topic of feelings triggers him, and he does the thing he would repeat several times. He gets angry, standing right in your face, hovering over with his height. He puts his face as close as possible to yours and tries to make you pee yourself.

• "how the fuck would you know how I feel? What do you know about how I feel? Tell me, how can a person like you know anything about me?"

• he doesn't apologize for slicing you because he knows he didn't mean it, hense, there's no reason to say sorry. But he sees the prospect of playing with you, and he's so bored. So, he thinks about what a normal person would do in his place. ?

• once, you go to your locker and inside, find a little bunch of field flowers, neatly tied together with a yellow thread. No note, but somehow you have ideas what it means.

• you go on to a party in one of your classmates' house. You still rock a tight bandage on your arm. The party is good. You see Kevin and he looks at you like he wants to talk. You think, this is just like one of those vampire stories. You evade your watchful friends who think you dumb for playing a heroine from the Vampire Diaries. You need to grow up, they say

• you go outside in the terrace and sit down. You drink and ask why Kevin isn't drinking

• "I never drink. It dulls the concentration"

• you tell him that what he said sounds like 'I'm not like all of you idiots'. He confirms that's the gist of most of what he says. You ask if he considers you dumb, too. Biting his tongue, he avoids replying, saying that you're 'nice'

• you keep drinking, feeling the need to master up some bravery in his presence. For what, you don't know. Finally you ask him about how he feels, since he got so angry when you assumed

• surprisingly, Kevin says,

• "angry, bored most of the time. I guess it makes me angry how boring everything is. And dumb. Sitting there at school for six hours every day to do what exactly? It's like torture"

• it's a good thing he found a toy to play with.

• he tells you about his mother, and how she broke his arm when he was little, for shitting himself, on purpose. You talk about mums, and fathers, and how you don't have a very good relationship with your parents. Kevin finds it very interesting. You tell him how your mum mostly ignores your existence because she's more preoccupied with the shattering marriage with your dad, and your dad, finds you annoying and 'too girly'. He tells you about his little sister who is so annoying, and she constantly jumps around him and nags on him. You try to explain that a little girl sees that her brother is big, and strong, and pretty, and is forming a bond. He gives one of the worst performances, but it grills you

• "Pretty?" with a suggesting smile.

• you kiss, mostly because you're drunk, and you both think about each other's background.

• you think how tragic it is, that a boy like Kevin doesn't get the love from the person a child needs the most. Think about his mum, imagine her looking at baby Kevin with hatred and disgust. No wonder he is growing up to be this unapologetic, menacing, edgy guy who brings razor to school and takes it out on others.

• you're partially wrong

• Kevin thinks about how you have daddy issues and feel unloved, unneeded, mediocre

• although everybody at school knows that Kevin Khatchadourian had cut your arm in a violent fashion, the literature teacher pairs you for a half-year assignment. You're supposed to prepare a one-hundred pages analysis of the book of your choice, complete with the presentation.

• you're actually down to such tasks as you can ramble about your favorite books for ages, but you're not sure how it'll work out with Kevin. Casual friendship, if you can call it that, is strange and non-regular; sometimes he ignores you completely in the corridors, sometimes he starts talking about history, and awful things like Unit 731, out of nowhere.

• the first time you assembled to work on the paper was at the library, and it was pretty uneventuful; even boring a little. Kevin was not in the mood, and didn't talk much, and then, after an hour and a half said he was bored, and just left.

• you remembered the kiss from the party, but Kevin acted like nothing happened. Every time, though, when you almost decided he had played you, it was like he read your thoughts, and appeared to reinforce hope in you.

• he suggested you should go to his house at the weekend, and spend the day working on the paper. His family will be away as they usually do, so

• a gut feeling told you not to go, and you really listened to it, refusing the offer. Kevin smiled with his special smile that was like blood and honey, that was very difficult to resist

• "you think I'll do something awful to you?" "Will you?"

• he had a habit of speaking more with his eyes than with his mouth. One of the reasons you were so drawn to him was, he seemed adult, on the inside. Sometimes he said things you didn't expect to hear from a fifteen-year old.

• "Only if you ask".

• you skipped this weekend, and Kevin refused to go to the library, saying he had some things to do after school. But you were free to work on the project alone, of course.

• after a week more you caved in and agreed to go to his place. The whole week he was being uncharacteristically neat, friendly and pleasant. You saw him smile at teachers and even say hi to someone from class. You wondered if he had other friends you didn't know about.

• Kevin had a massive, cool home. Both his parents were rich, but you wouldn't tell it by looking at him act. You were amazed at the interior: artsy, light, with interesting living room and shapes on the walls. Kevin was bored, unimpressed by your interest. He was slacking, stretching time not to get to work that was clearly dull to him; he showed you the bathroom, and his parents bedroom (which made you uncomfortable). As he went downstairs to make tea that he almost forced you to have, you washed your hands in the bathroom on the second floor. Going down towards the stairs, you passed his room with the door open. A song you liked very much played on his computer. You wondered.

• on the wall, you saw the picture of the family. Kevin was smiling like the happiest boy ever, and it looked like a person from another world. His parents, blonde and dark-haired, were so different. The dad, whom Kevin described as 'the dumbest creature I've met', smiled carelessly, totally satisfied with the day. His mom, on the other hand, looked exhausted. The deep dark eyes, like Kevin's, didn't have half of demonic suggestion in them, but she looked weary. She smiled like a person who was wise, and had a death wish. His little sister 'that perfect little princess who never does anything wrong', whom Kevin clearly had very mixed feelings about, had only one eye.

• while having tea in the kitchen, you asked him about his sister.

• "Oh, yeah, it happened a while ago. She poured solvent into her own eye. Mum left the bottle on the table in the open". "Why would she do that?" you were horrified, painting a picture in your head. "Well, kids are dumb", he said so nonchalantly that it sent shivers down your spine. You could understand not liking a younger, more adored sibling, but talking about how they got a disability in such an unaffected way...

• Kevin added "I was there, with her. I called the ambulance. It was go-o-ory". And he smiled.

• you had the intention of working in the living room - light, spacious, with a broad sofa and a huge coffee table. Kevin insisted that he needed to work on his laptop and it was uncomfortable to bend over the little table. You needed to go to his bedroom. Eventually, you agreed, so now, you were sitting elbow to elbow at his desk, so close that you could feel the warmth of his body.

• the first thing you noticed about his room was how minimalistic and boring it was. Nothing on the walls, clean, tidy, impersonal. The only thing on display was a wooden bow, placed against the wall, and a stack of red-feathered arrows, beautiful, hanging above.

• "Wow, do you do archery?" He was unphased, like it was a totally usual hobby. "Yeah". Whatever tickles the rich people's bum, you thought.

• Fifteen minutes into project your phone lit up. Kevin asked who's messaging you and you said it was your common classmate, Paul, who is your good friend. Kevin knew your - your common - surrounding, so he knew that Paul was a good guy, and a good friend, and also had an innocent teenage crush on you.

• "Let me see", he grabbed the phone from your hand and stretched out his arm so that you wouldn't reach. It turned into a game. You both laughed, and giggled, as you tried to get to your phone. It was half-serious, playful 'hey, don't be a jerk!' and him, watching you reach for the phone helplessly. He then threw it on his bed and, as you raced after it, gave you a little push, and you fell.

• Kevin managed to create that feeling of comfort. As he landed next to you on his bed, he pretended not to see your unease. "Come on, let me see. You know I'm nosy". You sighed, deciding that there was nothing incriminating in messages between two friends. After all, there was nothing but memes and schedule discussion in your chat. Kevin scrolled it, giggling, discussing other classmates, and soon, you were snuggled against each other, talking about everything. You showed him your gallery on the phone and he grilled you for the insane amount of pictures of Damon Salvatore.

• "Come on. Come on now, you know they manufacture those dreamy characters specifically with the accordance to the desirable image for teenage girls. They cater specifically to you, and you buy it".

• "I know! But you haven't watched it".

• A long silence with growing smiles on both sides decided the destiny of that evening. You watched the show together, bonding, discussing, talking about how stupid everything is, and how the vampiric lore cannot possibly be depicted perfectly in any movie you've seen.

• he felt so normal, so human, so warm, that you were drunk on love. You felt safe, entertained, enfatuated. You thought to yourself that maybe, this whole thing about Kevin being different, and dangerous, was a front. After all, he had to protect himself, he hadn't gotten any love at home, and he didn't really know how to act around people. You felt appreciated, understood, wholesome.

• it was already dark when you've finished watching the sixth episode, and you were both a little sleepy. As the episode was over, the screen got darker, and you realized that there was barely any light. Kevin was silent beside you; you heard him breathe calmly, but you could tell he's looking at you. Like a snake aiming for your throat and waiting for the right moment.

• as you were about to say something to discharge the situation, your phone rang. It was your mum, checking on you, and you confessed you hadn't gone through with the paper at all. You explained how boring it was, and that the whole day, you drank tea, or talked, or watched the show. She laughed at it and told you not to stay the night. Maybe she did love you after all.

• "My mum", you explained, as the light from the phone died out, as well. "She's worried about you?" "Just checking". "Checking what?" You didn't find what to say here. "Doesn't your mum check on you when you're late and not home?" "No. Usually, I'm the threat".

• somehow, you were kissing. It felt exhilarating. Scary, amazing and fast. You didn't notice how twenty minutes have gone buy, completely taken by the intensity of it. I'm in his bed, you thought, and he's kissing me. The prettiest boy in school, and the most interesting. The rest were boring, you thought, and realized, this thing you had in common. You thought majority of people, even some of your friends, boring. Kevin was the only one who made you look.

• as he went for your thighs, you shivered. "I'm not ready". "Ready for what?" he asked, jokingly. Constantly dismissing your words, as if he always wanted you to speak clearly and not mumble behind the metaphors. "I'm scared, I'm a virgin". Kevin gave you a long look. "Who hurt you?" he immediately assumed there was some dark reason for your fright. Reality was, "Nobody. I'm fifteen, I'm afraid".

• you made him promise he won't force you to anything. Even the fact that you had to make him give you his word should've been a sign. Kissing him, and making out, was the best thing that happened to you the whole year though.

• Paul was strangely cold, even rude to you the last days. Every time you tried to bring up something funny to him, he dismissed you and made himself scarce almost instantly. You could feel, although Kevin didn't openly follow you, that he watched you, like before. Sometimes you had the urge to ask him the banal 'what are we?'

• you approached him in between classes to ask what he's done to Paul.

• he wouldn't tell you 'I confronted him in the bathroom and put my razor right to his throat, making him understand who you belong to; I pushed it so hard it actually left a mark on his Adam's apple. Must have hurt. He looked like a scared puppy. I told him not to text you anymore and not to look in your direction. He ran so fast you could tell he would be a great cast for the Flash'

• he said, "Oh, I spoke to him. You were clearly annoyed by his advances, or was I wrong?" You were annoyed when you talked about it at his place. You lamented your friendship and said you found it irritateing that every guy you were actively friends with, started to fall for you.

• you didn't believe he just 'spoke' to him. You tried to call for the good in him again, but when it didn't work, decided to threat.

• "Don't do the things you'll regret later, Kevin". You tried to walk away, but he put himself between you and the whole world, hovering again, his face as close as possible. His eyes, the eyes of a snake, cold, black, menacing, asked you.

• "What things?" "You know what I'm talking about". "No, I don't. Say it". He dared you. You wanted to say 'violent things'. You remembered his face, full of cold rage, as he swung the razor at that guy in the yard. You looked at his face now, changed from the peaceful everyday mask he always wore, and suddenly it hit you. He was psychopathic. There was no other way he would be so unaffected by things, then jumping into sudden fury, then pleasant and sociable the next moment. He could stand like this for hours, it seemed, burning you down with his trying stare as if he was forcing you to show what you're worth.

• your friend broke this intense exchange by exclaiming, "wow. Get a room?" her voice was casually laughing, like, ha-ha, I'm mocking a PDA. But when you looked at her, her face was expressing concern. Her eyes didn't laugh and were fixed on you. Kevin slowly focused on her with a slight smile and then walked away, saying nothing.

• he stalked you, although you didn't know about it. Listened to your conversations, hiding in the bathroom, and stole your phone for a lesson, and then returned it into your tote bag, making you think you're absent-minded. You were entertainment to him, a goal to reach, with no prizes. He was deciding what to do with you after, in spring.

• the other weekend that you spent working on paper, the Khatchadourian house was full. The previous one, his mum and his sister were away in the countryside, and his dad worked. Now the whole family was at home, and Kevin wasn't really happy.

• his mom was excessively happy to see you, shaking your hand, and giving you a motherly hug. You read in her face that she was glad that her son was socialising.

• his dad was a big booming guy with the lumberjack energy.

• his little sister was a little angel: silky pearl hair, nice little face, only one eye. She was airy, happy, unspoiled. She was everything Kevin wasn't. He stood at the top of the stairs as his stunningly normal family swarmed you. His sister was looking at you curiously, considering the new concept: his brother's friend. She has never encountered that before. You took her little hand and something horrible stung your temples, almost like a vision. Kevin smiling with his absent, self-pleasing smile as she was on the kitchen floor, her eye bubbling, sizzling, blood and goo coming out.

• Kevin lost his patience and ran downstairs, took your hand and led you away from them, giving his mum a certain look. He refused to be served lemonade, and snacks, he just wanted to be left alone with you.

• as you entered the room, he locked the door, and you started making out immediately. The thought of his parents at home made him almost blind with excitement.

• you collapsed on the bed, kissing, rubbing against each other, panting. You were very wet, for the first time in your life for a real person. It was exalting, to desire something so much and get it immediately, to be desired back.

• he caresses the scar on your arm and kisses it. You take it as his way to finally say sorry.

• you don't know that he's never felt sorry, for anything, in his life. That he's calculating, cold, that he is only happy when it's physical satisfaction because all other is imitation. He's like a robot and he feels like a robot. To try to feel something, he used to watch the hardest porn he could find, the trashiest, goriest movies, he watched the nsfw news where the pieces of humans, chunks of meat and bones, were shown; he went to the dark web and watched snuff, and it made him feel nothing. The closest to happiness he felt when he was mildly entertained or cumming; and you were entertaining, for all the possible things he could do to you; and you almost let him cum.

• but you weren't ready for sex yet and, remembering the word he had given to you, he backed up. Building the tension was good for the eventual climax, and he would break you, he knew that, by the way you whimpered when he rubbed against you and kissed your neck.

• you finally had sex at the party once. Closer to spring, when the spirits were lifted. You snuck away from your friends who have half-way accepted that you were spending time with Kevin. You went upstairs and locked yourselves in someone's bedroom; you had been drinking for bravery because you knew what was coming. You wanted it, but you didn't know what to expect; maybe Kevin had a dragon in his pants for all you knew.

• he wasn't soft, but he was cutting the pain short. He made you feel hurt and kissed you tenderly the next second not to let you retaliate. At first, you just had to whitstand the pain, thinking it was normal. That's how it happens for the first time: the feeling of something tearing, and blood, and razor sharp pain. You were very aroused and very drunk, so even the pain ceased soon, and it was actually almost good.

• you went to the bathroom to clean yourself and cried, you didn't know why. Not like you now were a different person. You emerged, talking about the sad state of your makeup, and the room was empty.

• Kevin was downstairs chatting with a girl you didn't know, and when you tugged on his sleeve, he gave you a blind look, like he was seeing you for the first time. He was done with you, the look said. He didn't even smile anymore; he just looked tired, like you intervened in a mildly entertaining experience.

• for the rest of the month you were crushed. You didn't talk about it with friends: in fact, you lied to them that you had an argument with Kevin and never had sex. You were so ashamed to be a victim of such a simple, banal, everyday scam. You were now seeing him for what he was. Just a guy with the looks who was bored.

• you completely forgot about the project, it just came to a halt by itself

• you started alienating yourself from your friends, which wasn't too hard

• you started having lunch alone, and going to classes alone, too.

• you spent a lot of time thinking about the damn dress you wore at a party, as if it was the root of all evil that happened

• you were wallowing in the feeling of betrayal, the impotent desire to crash his face with a hammer. You were brokenhearted, being dragged down from the heavens of being special right to the pits of being played.

• after weeks of mourning your naivity, and your pure feelings for him, your past wish to awaken something good in Kevin, you felt so idiotic, perhaps even more idiotic than the stupidest person in this school. You were a laughing stock for your own self. Your pride was crushed, and your heart was broken.

• eventually you thought, well, it's schooltime. A lot of girls experience this. Maybe in fifteen years' time it will all seem like a minor failure and a useful lesson.

• right? In fifteen years?

• in the beginning of May, Kevin suddenly sat at your table at the closing of lunch. After weeks of literally no communication, dismissive, slightly surprised glances when you happened to be in his eye sight spot, he suddenly reappeared.

• "You didn't tell your friends even? Will you let me get away with it after all?"

• you looked at his face drawn with curiosity and laughter. He was laughing at you. His boyish, demonic beauty was now poisoned with the ugliness of his insides. Earlier, he was like a rare animal from the northern mountains, that was so evasive it seemed like treasure. He was mysterious, impeccable. Too good for you. Now, it was the handsomness of a used mannequin, with the paint faded. Too much blood in the smile.

• "What do you want, Kevin?"

• it's been moments after a short exchange that you felt rage in you. The rage you've been fostering this whole month. You stood up from the table and swung your arm with enthusiasm, and then landed your closed fist on his cheekbone.

• Kevin's reaction was slow, horrifying. In his eyes, you saw the immediate danger to your whole life. He didn't say anything as he rose from the chair, and you noticed his eyes scanning the yard. What if someone witnessed the punch?

• you tried to hit him again, on the shoulder, but he caught your hand, and suddenly, crushing pain sliced through your wrist. He was much stronger than you.

• this time, he approached you so decisively that for a second your only instinct was to fly, but your hand was caught up in his fist. Really, you got scared of him.

• "Never do that again", he said, as his hand took you by the back of your neck. He tilted your head back to look straight into your face, and all the possible trauma made you see the allure again. Yes, he was still laughably attractive, without even trying. He was just a walking trap, and all of your good intentions for him had just been horny.

• "Or I will snap your neck and forget about you in a second".

• the punch was good; a scarlett spot was forming on the side of his face. You were afraid to move because you could feel your wrist on the point of breaking. Such sharp pain, the third time in nine months, and the source of it, again, was Kevin.

• "Say you're sorry"

• "I'm sorry", you whimpered, "that you're such a monster who's unable to love, Kevin".

• you got ready to deal with the broken wrist and closed your eyes, expecting anything. He let go of you. "Love is a big word for you".

• you didn't know how jealous he was of Damon Salvatore.

• as the school year was drawing to an end, the school team started rehearsing

• the rehearsals were always fun; although you never even thought of getting into the cheerleaders, and you had exactly the amount of interest in basketball to understand what's going on.

• it was fun because the team consisted of all the people you knew; there was a lot of students you had good relationship with; the cheerleaders were all very easy going girls, and beautiful, at that. It wasn't like in the Mean Girls.

• and the spectators always brought pizza, or some snacks, to entertain themselves during the long, repetitive rehearsals. You liked to visit them because it was better than hanging out at home with your dysfunctional family.

• the last rehearsals were held in the evening of the 8th of April.

• as you sat there, you vaguely remembered, randomly, that it was to be Kevin's birthday soon; maybe in a week, or less. You pretended not to care, pretended to yourself.

• closer to the end of rehearsal, as people started leaving, your best friend, the one who was concerned about Kevin and even put herself in the position between you, said that her boyfriend had messaged her. She had to leave. You said goodbye and decided to wait for the end. Looking at the girls was mesmerizing; the way they did the combinations and screamed the chants. You thought it was very cool to be a cheerleader; but you weren't tall, or nimble, or beautiful enough.

• the main door was locked from the outside; probably the strings have gone bad again, and the entrance has been deemed a no go. So, your friend circled around the hall a little, tugging the doors with surprise. Finally, she found one working exit and left. As she was leaving, Khatchadourian walked into her, or rather, they ran into each other.

• "Leaving already?" he asked, with a smile. She said nothing and walked away.

• Kevin locked the door behind her. She turned around, puzzled, because her brain hadn't registered at once that Kevin was carrying a stack of arrows with him.

• As he started shooting his classmates, the swarm of people was lifted up, like an avalanche, and started making it for the entrance. The doors were locked. He repositioned, climbing up the spectator's rows, and finally had the perfect spot. From above, in the bunch of people, he saw you.

• you wondered, as all the noise left your brain, and the pale circles started pulsating in your eyes, why you didn't know earlier.

• in the moments he was swinging for someone's throat, or when he was threatening you, or when his face dropped the smile by the snap of the fingers. How do you even foresee something like that?

• you watched his face, a grimace of hatred, not indifferent anymore. He was aiming with his bare teeth, wallowing in every cry of the people he shot; the sound of arrows was almost comforting, whistling around like a seagull that passes over you quietly. Among the roar of the hall, the sound of arrows was so calming and so loud.

• you tried to group yourself, to make yourself smaller, because there were actually very few people left; seven or nine, in fact. But there was nowhere to run. Macey Walken, who ran for the side entrance, got a scarlet arrow into her back, and fell suddenly as if something pulled her. You looked at the floor, into a pool of someone's blood. Kevin was walking down carefully, between the seats, sending the arrows with accurate aim. He didn't even look like a human anymore; it was hard to describe him.

• he neutralized the three teachers first, then went for the students. Paul died in the other side of the hall in his purple and gold uniform. The cheerleader girls were running in circles, in zigzags, clearly entertaining him, moving targets. Kevin now almost approached the last group of five people, where you sat on the floor, numb with scream that never left your mouth, your legs paralyzed completely. He was killing you all one by one, from left to right. Ben, Mary, Meredith. Finally, the bow and arrow were turned towards you, mechanically.

• Kevin pulled the string and then relaxed it, keeping the arrow to himself, and moved on.

• you did manage to become the special girl after all.

#ezra miller imagine #we need to talk about kevin #kevin khatchadourian #kevin khatchadourian imagine