#starting this off with my beloved because I did not put her in my top 10 eps for the event...which was purely a mood based decision tbh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariacallous · 7 months

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“Did they really decapitate babies?” my 14-year-old daughter asked me yesterday. She was pointing to a text message on her phone from a friend. “They’re saying they found Jewish babies killed, some burnt, some decapitated.” And I froze. Not because I didn’t know what to say—though in truth I didn’t know what to say—but because for a moment I forgot what century I was in. All of the assumptions I had made as a Jewish father, even one who had grown up, as I did, with the Holocaust just a few decades past, were suddenly no longer relevant. Had I adequately prepared her for the reality of Jewish death, what every shtetl child for centuries would have known intimately? Later in the day, she asked if, for safety’s sake, she should take off the necklace she loves that her grandparents had given her and that has her name written out in Hebrew script.

The attack by Hamas on Israeli civilians last Saturday broke something in me. I had always resisted victimhood. It felt abhorrent, self-pitying to me in a world that seemed far away from the Inquisition and Babi Yar—especially in the United States, where I live and where polls repeatedly tell me that Jews are more beloved than any other religious group. I wasn’t blind to anti-Semitism and the ways it had recently become deadlier, or to the existential dread that my family in Israel felt every time terrorists blew up a bus or café—it’s a story whose sorrows have punctuated my entire life. But I refused to embrace that ironically comforting mantra, “They will always want to kill us.” I hated what this tacitly expressed, that if they always want to kill us, then we owe them, the world, nothing. I deplore the occupation for both the misery it has inflicted on generations of Palestinians and the way it corrodes Israeli society; when settlers in the West Bank have been attacked, it has pained me, but I have also felt anger that they are even there. In short, I wasn’t locked into the worldview of my survivor grandparents and I felt superior for it.

But something in me did break. As I was driving on Tuesday, I heard a long interview on the BBC with Shir Golan, a 22-year-old woman who had survived the attack at the music festival where more than 250 people were killed, her voice sounding just like one of my young Israeli cousins. She described, barely able to catch her breath, how the shooting had started and how she’d begun to run. She’d found a wooded area and tried to hide. “I got really into the ground,” she said. “I put the bushes on me.” Covered with dirt and leaves, she’d waited. A group of terrorists had shown up and called for anyone hiding to come out. From her spot under the earth, she’d seen three young people, whom she called “children,” emerge. “I didn’t go out because I was scared. But there were three children next to me who got out. And then they shot them. One after one after one. And they fell down, and that I saw. I saw the children fall down. And all that I did was pray. I prayed to my god to save me.”

I pulled my car over because my own hands were shaking as I listened. She then described waiting, hidden in the dirt under bushes for hours, until she saw the terrorists begin to light the forest on fire. “I didn’t know what to do. Because if I’m staying there, I’m just burnt to death. But if I go out they are going to kill me.” She crawled over to where she saw dead bodies and lay on top of them, but the heat soon approached, so she found more bushes to hide in until she could run again. Burnt bodies were everywhere, and Shir looked for her friends but couldn’t find them, couldn’t even see the faces of those killed because they were so badly burned. “I felt like I was in hell.” She finally escaped in a car.

Her story flung me back to my grandparents’ stories. My grandmother hid in a hole for a year in the Polish countryside, also under dirt, also scared. My grandfather spent months in Majdanek, a death camp, and saw bodies pile up in exactly this way. Stories are still emerging of families burnt alive, of children forced to watch their parents killed before their eyes, of bodies desecrated. How was this taking place last Saturday?

But these stories aren’t what broke me. What did was the distance between what was happening in my head and what was happening outside of it. The people on “my side” are supposed to care about human suffering, whether it’s in the detention camps of Xinjiang or in Darfur. They are supposed to recognize the common humanity of people in need, that a child in distress is first a child in distress regardless of country or background. But I quickly saw that many of those on the left who I thought shared these values with me could see what had happened only through established categories of colonized and colonizer, evil Israeli and righteous Palestinian—templates made of concrete. The break was caused by this enormous disconnect. I was in a world of Jewish suffering that they couldn’t see because Jewish suffering simply didn’t fit anywhere for them.

The callousness was expressed in so many ways. There were those tweets that did not hide their disregard for Jewish life—“what did y’all think decolonization meant? vibes? papers? essays? Losers”—or the one that described the rampage as a “glorious thing to wake up to.” There was the statement by more than two dozen Harvard student groups asserting, in those first hours in which we saw children and women and old people massacred, that “the Israeli regime” was “entirely responsible for all unfolding violence.” And then there were the less explicit posts that nevertheless made clear through pseudo-intellectual word salads that Israel got what it deserved: “a near-century’s pulverized overtures toward ethnic realization, of groping for a medium of existential latitude—these things culminate in drastic actions in need of no apologia.” I hate to extrapolate from social media—it is a place that twists every utterance into a performance for others. But I also felt this callousness in the real world, in a Times Square celebratory protest promoted by the New York City chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America, at which one speaker talked of supporting Palestinians using “any means necessary” to retake the land “from the river to the sea,” as a number of placards declared. There were silences as well. Institutions that had rushed to condemn the murder of George Floyd or Russia for attacking Ukraine were apparently confounded. I watched my phone to see whether friends would write to find out if my family was okay—and a few did, with genuine and thoughtful concern, but many did not.

I’m still trying to understand this feeling of abandonment. Is my own naivete to blame? Did I tip too far over into the side of universalism and forget the particularistic concerns to which I should have been attuned—the precarious state of my own tribe? Even as I write this, I don’t really want to believe that that’s true. If I can fault myself clearly for something, though, it’s not recognizing that the same ideological hardening I’d seen on the right in the past few years, the blind allegiances and contorted narratives even when reality was staring people in the face, has also happened, to a greater degree than I’d imagined, on the left, among the people whom I think of as my own. They couldn’t recognize a moral abomination when it was staring them in the face. They were so set in their categories that they couldn’t make a distinction between the Palestinian people and a genocidal cult that claimed to speak in that people’s name. And they couldn’t acknowledge hundreds and hundreds of senseless deaths because the people who were killed were Israelis and therefore the enemy.

As the days go on, the horrific details of what happened—those babies—seem to be registering more fully, if not on the ideological left, then at least among sensible liberals. But somehow I can’t shake the feeling of aloneness. Does it take murdered babies for you to recognize our humanity? I find myself thinking—a thought that feels alien to my own mind but also like the truth. Perhaps this is the Jewish condition, bracketed off for many decades and finally pulling me in.

When news broke of the Kishinev pogrom in 1903 that took 49 lives (compare that with the 1,200 we now know were killed on Saturday), it caused a sensation throughout the world. “Babes were literally torn to pieces by the frenzied and bloodthirsty mob,” The New York Times reported. “The local police made no attempt to check the reign of terror. At sunset the streets were piled with corpses and wounded. Those who could make their escape fled in terror, and the city is now practically deserted of Jews.” In response to that massacre, the emigration of hundreds of thousands of Eastern European Jews to the United States began in earnest; the call of Zionism as a solution also sounded clearly and widely for the first time.

In his famous poem about the massacre, “In the City of Slaughter,” the Hebrew writer Haim Naḥman Bialik lamented, even more than the death, the sense of helplessness (“The open mouths of such wounds, that no mending / Shall ever mend, nor healing ever heal”), the men who watched in terror from their hiding places while women were raped and blood was spilled. I can’t say I know what will happen now that this helplessness has returned—if I’m honest, I also fear that Israel’s retaliation will go too far, that acting out of a place of victimhood, as right as it may feel, will cause the country to lose its mind. Innocent lives in Gaza have been and will be destroyed as a result, and competing victimhood is obviously not the way out of the conflict; it’s the reason that it is hopelessly stuck. But in this moment, before the destruction of Gaza grabs my attention and concern alongside fear for my relatives who have been called up to the army, I don’t want to forget how alone I felt as a Jew these past few days. I have a persistent, uncomfortable need now to have my people’s suffering be felt and seen. Otherwise, history is just an endless repetition. And that’s an additional tragedy that seems too much to bear.

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drcranessweetestdoe · 2 months

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Hiii😻

I’ve got an idea as well: Older husband Cillian showing his young wife how to please him properly xx

Hii, thank you for the request!<3 I am always a sucker for some older husband Cillian:)

Hands on mine

warning: age gap, first time bj, oral (m), dirty and sweet talk, nothing too filthy:)

pairing: older husband!Cillian x younger wife!Reader

summary: Cillian teaches his little wife how to please him

The marriage between them caused a bit of a stir within the crowd, the big age gap was there, but who cares as long as you are utterly in love? Their chemistry was undeniable and the sex was amazing.

But as she was soaking in her bath, she couldn’t stop thinking about one thing. Cillian was always down to keep with his younger wife’s big appetite, doing his best to please her and fuck her until both of their bodies were spent. However, he never asked for her to please him back. It’s not like she didn’t want to, she did, but she was so scared of hurting him in some way. It soothed her that he was perfectly satisfied with her pussy, but sometimes she wished that he would just grab her head and shove his cock down her throat.

Cillian was her first in everything, which meant that she never sucked cock before. She jerked him off for half minutes just before he was about to penetrate her, but nothing more.

As she thought more about it, the more she felt her mouth salivating at the thought of pleasing him. She got out of her bath, dried herself and put on a lacy tank top and cotton panties. She knew that Cill would be in the living room, reading a book on his beloved armchair.

And of course, there he was. In sweatpants and a thin shirt, his reading glasses sat on top of his nose and his face was one of concentration. God, he looked so good.

While he was lost in his book, he suddenly noticed a pair of feet padding into his peripheral vision, before he knew it, his sweet little wife was making herself comfortable on his lap, demanding his complete attention without any words. With his book now put aside on the side table, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.

“Hello there, sweetheart.” He whispered into her ear. He was so smitten with her, he could smell the sweet vanilla scent of her bodywash and his hands caressed her skin that was barely covered. His brows furrowed when he noticed the slight pout on her lips. “What’s wrong?”

She moved to straddle him and moved her face close to his, she looked deeply into his baby blues and said. “I want you to teach me.”

Her closeness made his body warm up. “Teach you what, darling?” He whispered, her cotton clad pussy was sitting right on top of his hardening cock, he could even feel her warm heat.

“I want to please you, suck your cock.” She murmured shyly, which made him chuckle and caress her hair lovingly.

“Oh, my little doe, you had me worried there. But, you just want to be good for daddy, eh?” She just nodded eagerly.

“I-I want to learn how to make you feel good, because you always make me feel so good with your mouth, daddy. I want to do the same thing.” Her hand wandered down to his crotch and started palming him through the thin fabric. He hissed at the sudden contact, her clever little hands felt so good on him.

Before she could take him out, his hands grabbed her face. “Are you sure, little doe? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”

She just giggled and kissed him. “I’m sure, daddy.”

“Well, then… On your knees.” He said to her in a deeper voice, the voice when she knew not to disobey him or she would be punished. In contrast to his voice, he planted a kiss on her temple, just so she knew that they could stop anytime.

She dropped to her knees and started to pull his pants down, along with his underwear. Cillian was petting her while she was doing it. “Very good, take me out, my pet.”

His demanding voice made her feel more excited to be finally doing it. When his nearly fully hard dick sprang up in her face and against his stomach, she grabbed it with her delicate hand and started jerking him off slowly. He grunted at the contact, never taking his eyes off of her. “Spit in your palm, it’s going to be better for me and easier for you.” She did as he told her and it actually was better, her hand now gilded easily up and down his member. “You can do it more tightly—“ he put his hands on hers, guiding her. “—just like that. Hands on mine, let’s go a bit faster, hm?” He put his hand back on her head when she had the perfect grip on him.

“Just stay calm and do what feels natural for you.” He sensed her nervousness.

“I-I don’t really know what to do, daddy…” She looked up at him sadly from her kneeling position and he felt his heart melting.

“Okay, so… Start with little kisses, and an occasional little licks here and there.” His voice was laced with pleasure, especially when she planted a kiss on his tip. “Oh, fuck—right there, doe, that is where it feels good for me the most.” She kept on kissing and licking at his tip, tasting the precum that was beading from his slit. His tip was smooth and warm, she enjoyed having it in her mouth. She suddenly had an idea, she ran her wet tongue from his base to his tip, when she got up to the top, she took his pulsing tip into her mouth and sucked on it. “OH—- You’re doing so good… So, so very good for daddy. Keep on sucking.” His hand tangled itself into her silky soft hair. After a few minutes, she let him slip into her mouth a bit more, with hollowing her cheeks she started to bobbing her head up and down on his cock. Her lips smiled around him when she heard his moaning and his fingers tightening in her hair, it felt so rewarding.

She still didn’t relax completely, she was constantly careful not to scrape his sensitive skin with her teeth and she was doing very well.

Feeling his palm pushing her even more down, she was trying to fight the urge to gag. She took a deep sigh and relaxed her throat, letting his big cock slip into her throat. “My god, doe, you are doing amazing! You are pleasing daddy so much!”

She deepthroated him a few times before he pulled her head off of him by her hair. He chuckled darkly when he heard her whining. “Hush, sweetheart. I’m going to show you another thing you can do to make daddy feel good.” Now she was listening with big eyes. “Touch me lower, touch my balls. Lick them, fondle them or suck them.” She lowered her hair to kiss all around his testicles. She gently palmed them and started to kiss them, occasionally letting her tongue dart out for a taste.

When his moans faltered and she got bored, her slightly swollen lips wrapped around his dick again. She let his hand dictate the pace, he was rough and gentle at the same time, something only her husband was capable of doing.

“Just a bit more, my little love.” He urged, barely being able to talk, the feeling of her warm and wet mouth all around him was swallowing him up. He didn’t let her break eye contact, he needed to see his pretty little wife to be able to cum.

He warned her before he came, giving her time to pull off, even if he wanted nothing more than to paint her mouth with his seed and have himself deep in her tummy. To his surprise, she kept on sucking on him and using her hands at the same time. Of course she would swallow, she was his good little girl who was always hungry for his load.

“I’m there! I’m coming, my darling— OHH YES!” She felt her mouth fill with his thick and warm load. She gulped it down eagerly, enjoying the feeling of her belly filling up with him. She pulled off when his meaty thighs twitched from sensitivity, then she gave him one last peck and tucked him back into his pants.

He smiled when she wiped the remaining cum off the corners of her mouth with her fingers, only to lick them clean.

He reached down and put her back in his lap, kissing her all around her face at which she giggled at. He saw that he tired her out, so he gently cooed to her.

“My good little wife, always so good to me. You did so well, the best blowie I ever got. Thank you, my darling.”

She nuzzled her face into his neck, smiling softly and enjoying his gentle caressing.

“Rest now, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

When he felt her nearly falling asleep, he kissed her hair again before picking his book up. His little wife asleep in his lap, with her tummy full of his seed, he smiled knowing that she was his.

taglist: @your-nanas-house @red-riding-wood

#cillian fanfic #cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #cillian fluff #cillian smut #cillian murphy fanfics #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy angst #cillian murphy fluff #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy daddy

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80s-noelle · 2 months

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lsdln cast x porn visuals part 1 🍒

💌: hello!! you may have already seen this post but in portuguese, so i finally translated it because google/safari translators are completely shit, so i had to make a few changes ... ENJOY!

kisses, noelle 😽🫶

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

fran romero

the idea of watching a movie with your boyfriend obviously went down the drain, having you on his lap while he plays and rubs your swollen clit, your hips making involuntary movements in search of pleasure and a curious hand playing with your hard nipples. gripping fran's shoulder tightly your pussy gets wetter and wetter, you feel his heavy breathing on your neck and the hardness of his cock on your back.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1755573141139595365?s=46

agustin pardella

oh, valentine's day! what a great day to spend it with your sweetheart, doing cute things that every couple does... eating strawberries with chocolate, watching a romcom cuddled up on the sofa and all the other couple stuff. what you didn't expect was for your sweet, romantic, soft agustin to just throw you on the bed and thrust hard into your pussy. suddenly the room that was filled with laughter, was replaced by moans and the wet sound of your cunt. at the end of it all, all you could hear was the sound of skin against skin.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1757720276844855738?s=46

enzo vogrincic

how did this happen? you really don't know, maybe it was the charm that every latina has... the same charm that captured enzo in the club you were dancing. sweaty bodies, hips swaying and the horny look on your face made you end up in the situation you're in now. on the floor of a motel, spread legs, the inside of your thighs soaked while enzo's thick fingers quickly fuck your pussy, making it so wet to the point where you can hear the wetness every time the palm of his hand meets your clit.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1760187551187362144?s=46

matias recalt

you and your boyfriend have a mutual agreement, to record him fucking you so that when he's travelling around filming his movies he won't miss your warm walls squeezing around his cock so much. putting the phone on the other side of the bed, you waste no time before jumping onto his lap, bouncing on his cock while matias' hips move up to meet your movements, hands squeezing your waist, he thrusts hard while biting your lip... he knew he had to enjoy it, who knows how long he'd be away without feeling the warmth of your cunt.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1759855449950523768?s=46

esteban kukuriczka

every time the two of you had sex, esteban had the "strange" habit of gently, with his fingers, opening the swollen lips of your pussy and watching its walls contract with pleasure as his cum leaked out, every time he sees the scene his cock twitches... the image of you all silly, full of his cum makes him hard and horny.

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/daddyyrough/status/1760179918866919468?s=46

link 2 ୨♡୧: https://x.com/iucywl/status/1723013685075935730?s=46

alfonsina carrocio

you suddenly wake up with the little wet kisses that sina gives you on your neck, you knew exactly what your beloved was doing. with a sly little voice, sina lightly squeezes one of your breasts. trailing her fingers over your sensitive nipples, she moves on to your thin underwear that you were wearing as pyjamas. with a little whisper of appreciation, she feels the dampness of your pussy through it, lightly slipping her middle finger between the seam of your lips. you, already horny and breathing heavily, arch your back and throw your ass against sina, who just takes off her clothes while sucking your lips hungrily. getting on top of you, she starts rubbing her swollen little clit against your wet pussy. holding sina's waist tightly, you moan until the orgasm comes. opening your eyes, you see her satisfied and mischievous smile...

link ୨♡୧: https://x.com/iucywl/status/1745756142406381957?s=46

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

omg i hate it, my english is terrible.. my apologies!!

there’s part 2, but don't worry, i'll translate it and post it here 🤭

#francisco romero #francisco romero x reader #agustin pardella #agustin pardella x reader #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #matias recalt #matias recalt x reader #esteban kukuriczka #esteban kukuriczka x reader #alfonsina carrocio #society of the snow #lsdln cast

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nejiverse · 1 year

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APOLOGETIC KISSES

Rin Itoshi

In which Y/n and Rin get into an argument before bed but the latter can't sleep without feeling his beloved girlfriend Fem! Reader

cw: neck kissing, (s/c) is skin colour

wc: 0.7k

Going to sleep and being angry with Rin was something Y/n really hated. She hated going to sleep right after an argument but he just annoyed her so much tonight.

"Don't talk to me Rin, you're pathetic", she spat, turning her back to him and letting the sheets swallow her.

Rin noticed how she briefly typed on her phone— no longer than fifteen seconds— and slammed it on the counter after she said those harsh words.

But talk about killing with words. She called him by his name. She never did that unless she was really pissed off, like now.

Rin's face remained calm and composed as he ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the padded headboard.

How did he always manage to mess things up?

His sharp tongue that's how. He couldn't help it though, that was just the kind of person he was— telling it like it is.

But he had to admit to himself that he was out of line this time. He was in the wrong but he wouldn't announce that out loud, he had too much pride to do that.

Just before the ravenette was about to let out a hefty sigh, his phone buzzed. It was a message from his brother.

"Apologise".

Rin eyed his girlfriend from his peripheral vision— or the back of her head at least. She had a habit of complaining to his older brother every time they got into an argument and frankly it was annoying.

He figured that was why she was texting earlier.

He didn't need Sae giving him orders, he was old enough to make his own decisions.

He placed his phone down and laid down comfortably, his eyes facing Y/n's covered back.

It all felt wrong. His hands felt so bare and empty, not being able to feel her warm and gorgeous (s/c) skin beneath his hands, while his torso felt slightly colder, not having her back right up against him.

He needed to feel her.

Rin couldn't help but shuffle closer to her and gently wrap his hands around her body that fitted perfectly against his own.

He took his right hand and put it up her top, resting it against her stomach and his other hand moved her hair away from her neck before he entangled his fingers together with her own supple ones.

He let his lids fall over his eyes and left slow kisses up her neck.

"Don't be mad", he mumbled against her neck.

He didn't expect her to hear him nor did he want her to hear him, what he said was a hope for the morning more than anything.

Little did Rin know she was awake, trying hard to suppress her breaths.

His lips in their casual silent way, told her he was sorry.

His kisses were tender. He kissed her neck with reverence; it's what she deserved after all.

Once he started to trace little shapes against her stomach, her hand twitched against his own and she let out a soft sigh, making Rin stop. He didn't want to wake her up.

Y/n internally cursed herself. She didn't want him to stop at all, quite the opposite in fact.

Slowly, she took his right hand and ran it along her stomach again, urging him to continue.

Rin concluded that she was still in a state of sleep when she did that because if she wasn't, she would've pushed him off herself.

But he was gravely mistaken by that conclusion. When he kissed her neck like that and touched her so lovingly, it made her ponder why she was mad at him and why she even bothered staying mad at him.

Whether she was awake or not didn't really change that fact that he would pepper kisses along her neck till the break of dawn.

He opted to apologise properly in the morning.

Masterlist here :)

a/n: i'm in my Rin era ya'll I have so much ideas to write about

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courtingchaos · 8 months

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Ok, i thought i'd give you a few options.

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator

flashing Steve on a dare at a party because boobies

Eddie being a clueless, naive knob when his crush comes on to him in increasingly obvious and suggestive ways and he just can't put two and two together until she's forced to grab him and be like, hi. hello. I'm trying to fuck you here. please compute.

Sorry if these seem stale. I'm not the most creative and they're all smut because I'm a degenerate too. Love your writing :)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A record store meet-cute with Indiana’s most oblivious guitarist.

Warnings: Blow job and fingering, that’s it that’s all have fun.

A/N: Okay look, for one? Not stale at all. Also, degeneracy supremacy for all. This did the trick and in fact I also wrote the Gator prompt too because that was fun. However Steven eludes me lately so while I wanted to make all the dreams come true, alas I could not. These might not be exactly what you were aiming for? But there’s smut? And they’re fun? Meh, thank you for sending these in friend! Also I think I inadvertently channeled my dearest @chestylarouxx with this one so you know it’s gotta be good.

Gator will get posted separately.

18 + NSFW No Minors

He’s in the store all the time, always on your shift and usually finding you with whatever question he has like when he can’t find a new release or someone has misfiled a vinyl. He asks your opinion on the new releases and laughs when you roll your eyes, a scoff thrown at a new Madonna single. He’ll give you a shocked look when you tell him that you do in fact like Heart and also when you try to explain the shared root between his beloved thrash and the current punk scene.

Despite his affection for arguments with you he persists with toothy grins and a constant promise to ‘show you some real music’ sometime. There’s an undercurrent with your conversations, a feeling of flirting, like when he pulls that chunk of hair across his face while he tells you about his band. He gets bashful when you show interest and ask if it’d be cool if you went and all you can imagine is that dark hallway in the back of the bar and what he might look like under that dimming, yellowing light. It earns you a short nod and one of those smiles, lips tight over his teeth while his dimples dig craters into his pink cheeks. He says he’d love it. Says he can’t wait to see you. Says he’ll let the guys know they’ve got a number one fan now.

So when you get to the end of said night, after the fairly big crowd and all his other friends have filtered out, after his band has almost put up most of the equipment, after he’s collected their cut of the entry fees, you linger. Sitting at the end of the bar with your beer that you’ve been nervously picking the label off of for 20 minutes, waiting on him to make his way over. He taps the bar top and thanks the owner and starts his meandering walk toward you, counting back ones from the roll in a practiced hand. He looks like all the little daydreams you’ve had while watching him wander around the record store, dark hair damp from sweat and curling around his ears. His thin tee clings to him like his jeans cling to him and your heart hammers at the thought of pulling him back those few feet into that blessed, dingy hallway.

“You guys put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh you think so?” He looks up from his money and grins at you, the only girl in the room it would seem. You nod and laugh and start to pluck up your courage when one of the waitresses walks out of the back and squeals before grabbing his bicep and squeezing.

“Oh my god Eddie! You did so good tonight!” You can see her nails pressing into his skin and how his cheeks flame at her praise and suddenly you think you maybe misread this whole thing. “I told you there were gonna be more people this weekend!” She pulls him down and into her space, her nose scrunched up with a big smile for him.

“Thanks Vic.”

“I told you Robin would work miracles with those posters.” She gives him a final squeeze and gets back behind the bar to tie her apron on. He watches her walk down the bar until she takes an order and his gaze slides back to you, a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that.” He shoves the wad of cash in his front pocket and leans on the bar next to you. “You enjoyed it though?” He gives you a wide eyed look, anticipation rounding out his bambi eyes.

“Yeah.” It comes out more clipped than you meant so you clear your throat and direct your gaze back at your peeled Budweiser label. “Yeah, exactly like you said it would be.” A wide smile that you don’t let hit your eyes. Eddie shifts a little, his demeanor softer than it was before, his post show swagger gone when he tilts his head down to try and catch your eyes glued to your bottle.

“You sure? You just seem-“

“I-I’m sorry, it’s actually just-before I came out tonight I found out I need to open so.” You rush it out at him, glancing at your watch and never once noticing the actual time. “I didn’t want to just leave, but I gotta get going I’m sorry.” You shrug at him, half apologetic while you dig a five out of your wallet and toss it on the bar. “Hopefully I’ll see you on Tuesday though? Souls of Black is coming out!” You toss that over your shoulder to give your abrupt departure a bit of a softer hit. Eddie yells something after you that you pointedly ignore and you try your hardest to not kick the door open into the muggy night.

Tuesday morning and you pull a cassette from the display to hold on to. Not like it’s flying out the door but you know Eddie will beeline for you first thing, no matter what far corner of the store you’re occupying. You keep it tucked into one of the pockets on your half apron so you don’t forget it and so you can pull a magic trick when he inevitably comes up and asks you even though he walked by the display.

Noon rolls by and you see nary a curl come through the front door. By 2 you’re hanging out at the register, a permanent fixture there while your coworker takes advantage of your fixation and putzes around in the back. At 4 you contemplate calling the police because this is the most strange behavior you’ve witnessed from Hawkins’s residential Weirdo and at 6, when you flip the sign over to tell everyone you’re closed, you start to think you might have fucked up. Carla, your coworker, reminds you of the cassette in your packet when you toss your apron at the register. A little crease between her eyebrows when she asks, “That for Eddie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna be funny and tell him I could pull stuff out of my ass.” You tell her with a dry laugh and stash the tape under the counter.

“He never misses a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, first time for everything.” You shrug.

5 PM Wednesday night brings a rainstorm to downtown and a drowning rat in the form of a drenched Eddie into your store. He shakes off like a Labrador in the doorway and grumbles when he has to peel his jacket off his clammy arms.

“Hey stranger.” You say behind a pop of your gum. Barely looking up from the rolling stone you’re reading when he stomps over to the new releases.

“You’re shitting me.”

“What?”

“There’s no god damn way a Testament album sold out in Hawkins.” He throws his arms up dramatically and lets them slap down onto his damp jeans. Again you barely look when you pick up the stashed tape and hold it aloft, waiting for him to finally turn around and see. “What, did Gareth come in here first and snag the only copy or something?” He snaps cases together angrily while he shifts through them and you almost tell him to quit pitching a fit but it’s a little fun watching him dripping all over the linoleum. His hair clings to his neck, his white ringer tee see through over his shoulder where the rain got in under his collar. You spare a moment to think about what the rain must taste like on him.

“Eddie.”

“Seriously! First my piece of shit van didn’t start yesterday again so I was late to the shop which in turn meant I didn’t get over here.”

“Ed.”

“And then this fucking storm shows up out of fucking nowhere and I’m fucking soaked and I don’t have my fucking tape-oh.” He turns, fist clenched in front of him like he’s tearing at invisible threads, and stops mid rant when he sees the rectangle in your hand. “Oh hello gorgeous.” He looks like he’s in love and he holds out his hands towards you, grasping your fist in both of his to gently shake it. You laugh at his dramatics and let out a yell when he hops onto the counter, ass planted directly on your magazine you were staring through.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world you know that?”

“I have that effect on a lot of guys.” A buff of your nails against your collar and Eddie huffs. He pulls his shoulders in and gives you a side eye that feels a little personal for a second.

“Well alright, statement still stands.” He reads the track list on the back, a slight squint of his eyes and you wonder briefly if he needs glasses. “You listen to it yet?”

“Psh, no.”

“Why not?”

Well, you’d had a plan since the terrible show night and you stomping out of there with your feelings hurt over nothing.

“No one else I know listens to them, thought you’d maybe like to listen to it together?” This is the most courage you’ve ever had, you think as you look up at him through your lashes. “It’s not like a big deal or anything but-“

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“What?”

“I mean yeah, obviously I’d love to listen together but I need to make a call first.” He flashes you that big smile again and you hand the store receiver over. That nervous knot that had begun to form in your stomach is all but gone with his revelation:

Obviously he’d love that.

Obviously! It’s been so obvious right? He’s your number one customer, he’d walked right for you in the bar, and now he’s vehemently agreeing to listening to this album with you, giddy with excitement.

“Hey! Jeff! Put your dick away we’re coming over.”

Jeff? Jeff his guitarist?

“No, I’m at the record shop I got it! Yeah, yeah she’s a real sweetheart she held a copy for me.” Eddie rolls his head to face you and gives you a wink. “I know, she’s the best right?”

Fucking Jeff? You stare at Eddie, dumbfounded, yet again questioning how you keep reading this man wrong. What part of ‘do you want to listen together’ qualified a third party?

“Yeah, we’ll be over after close.” Eddie hands you the phone to hang up and you go through the motions, turning your body away to stare at a spot on the counter so you can frown deeply without him noticing.

“This is gonna be great.” He claps his hands together before hopping down off the counter and pulling his wallet out to pay. “I can finally smoke you out like I’ve been promising.” He wiggles his eyebrows like he’s some kind of cartoon wolf and you feel like you’ve missed a step on the stairs. What is he doing? Is this flirting? Does he use Jeff as a pawn in his games or is he just not picking up what your putting down?

“Yeah, it’ll be great, can’t wait.”

The hang out at Jeff’s wasn’t awkward but you think something is broken in your brain with how off the mark you seem to be.

You’d been aloof with Eddie when he’d first started hanging around you in the shop, not sure how to take his overly forward approach but he’d grown on you quick and the banter was good. He lobbed the conversation back and forth with you with practiced ease and really it was destined for you to find him charming. With his dimples and his music taste and his tattoos it was inevitable that you’d spend your afternoons shooting glances out the window, waiting for him to breeze in with a joke or another long winded story that he’d loose the thread for halfway through. He’d apologize and you’d laugh and sometimes he’d blush at you and that feeling that you thought was there?

Maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t being particularly subtle with him. Friendly flirting it may be but your touches always lingered longer on his forearm, your lashes always fluttered at his nicknames and your giggles were sprinkled freely for him through his visits. Standard faire ‘come get me, I’m yours’.

Once again at work, mindlessly alphabetizing and sending yourself into a doom spiral you hear the bell above the door ring and a quick glance up makes you pause.

It’s the whole band this time, Eddie in the lead and heading straight for you.

“What now?”

He stops in his tracks, hand flying to his chest in mock affront. “To your favorite customer?!”

Jeff snorts and Gareth and Frank roll their eyes and immediately wander off to the record bins.

“You come in here with a purpose, I need to brace myself.”

“It’s not even for me!” Eddie whines and leans on your cart full of tapes. His rings clack against the plastic casings and catch the overhead lighting, distracting you for a second. “It’s for Gareth, we need to know what you have for a Jazz section.”

“Jazz?” These men confuse you with every new turn. Gareth has already found what he was looking for though, sitting on the floor and flipping through aging cardboard sleeves.

“What does he know about Jazz?” You ask Eddie when he wanders back over with you.

“Oh he was the drummer for the jazz band in high school, you don’t remember that?”

“No, I wasn’t in band.”

“Ah.” He’s leaning on the fixture you need to reorganize but you don’t want to ask him to move, the sunlight shining in at just the right angle to light up his features. You could kick yourself with how enamored you sound, especially when he seems to be woefully uninterested in you and your flirting.

“Hey Eddie?”

“Hm?” He turns to look at you over his shoulder, brown hair gleaming like satin in the sun. His eyebrows hitch up and he tucks his lip between his teeth to worry at it. A thousand little fantasies about that lip glide through your thoughts and you decide to give it one last go.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?”

His lashes flutter at you while he processes your question, his guard down with no witty response lined up.

“Oh like…like w-when?” He’s not meeting your eyes anymore, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He shifts back to lean his weight on his other leg and leans away. He clams up and distances himself. “Because we’re free tonight after you close, but I know it’s a week night and you might be busy or whatever.” He cocks his head over to the other three grouped around the record crates and you realize it finally.

He’s letting you down soft. He doesn’t hate you, at least there’s that. He’d like to hang out sure, but there isn’t a romantic undercurrent like you’ve been imagining.

“Uh, yeah, tonight works.” You shrug and turn off your emotions. There was a brief prickle of heat behind your eyeballs but you stomp your foot down on that, converse pinning that feeling down like a moth in a frame. “Whenever though, I don’t want to interrupt your plans.” That roiling in your gut squirms under the pinprick and finally stills and you make sure your smile reaches your eyes this time. Eddie agrees and tells the guys and when they’re all standing at the register to check out you keep your cool. The countdown begins when you start typing in the prices, just ten more minutes before they’re on their way out and you can stand in the back and cry. You think about Carla giving you that sad little look and you know it’ll be a waterfall for sure.

“What fresh hell-“ Eddie yells and pushes the door open, red and blue lights flashing for a second before the cruiser engine shuts off. “Hey! I’m not parked illegally!” He shouts out at the deputy holding the windshield wiper of his van up, ticket clutched in his fist. When all Eddie gets is a blank stare he rushes out, leaving his friends staring after him.

“This’ll go over well.” Jeff sighs and hands you cash. “You’ll get to hear about this tonight for 8 hours.”

“About that. I might need to reschedule actually.” You can feel the cracks in the dam and you really don’t want to cry in front of these people.

“Oh?” Gareth gives you a side eye, something slick and calculating. Your eyes dart out the window to see Eddie gesturing at the signs on the street and you sigh heavy, handing their bag over to them.

“Yeah, I just forgot what uh, umm…” Trying to find a good excuse is impossible and he sees it on your face for what it is, an excuse.

“Oh my god Frank you owe me twenty bucks.” Gareth holds out his hand without looking at his friend. “I told you she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“What.” That stops whatever waterworks were about to spring a leak. Gareth is smiling the biggest shit eating grin and suddenly Jeff and Frank are laughing while money is exchanging hands. “What are you talking about.”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Eddie is the biggest fucking idiot.” Gareth laughs and pockets his money. “Like, I love that man but he has no idea what is going on.”

They aren’t laughing at you but you still feel rooted to the spot, and since none of them have started sharing this secret yet you start to get antsy. Jeff takes pity on you finally and tells you all about Eddie and his current fixation. He tells you about all the stories they’ve heard about you. How cool you are. How hot you are. How you’ll talk music with him like no one else and how you give only the best recommendations.

“You know he listens to New Order now because of you?” Jeff asks with a smile. “Like, great band but Eddie listening to them? He’s got it bad.”

You reel behind the counter while the three of them nod their heads sagely at you.

“He thought you had a boyfriend.”

“What?”

“When you left the other night after the show? He thought you picked up on him trying to flirt and got upset. I told him it was because it looked like Vicky was flirting but he was convinced he fucked up.”

“I thought-“ You don’t know what you thought because it hadn’t been anything actually. You had been jealous and it seemed like it was over nothing.

“Listen, you should still come out tonight. We can talk some sense into him if you want.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeff looks impressed.

“No, I can talk to him.” You run through your daydreams and your interactions. All his dumb jokes and how he looked after his show. You think about your hallway vision and what it might feel like to press him up against that wall and press a confession out of him. “I’ll talk to him.”

You don’t dress up for The Hideout. It’s dive bar chic only but tonight?

Tonight after you run back to your place to change, you dig out your black and white polka dot dress, the one you’d bought because Cyndi Lauper had made it look so good. It’s always sat a little short in the back, the buttons never coming up far enough in the bust for your confidence level but now it’s perfect. It flutters around your thighs and while you try not to poke yourself in the eye with your liner you think about Eddie’s fingers fluttering along with it. Maybe he’d be precious about it, a stuttering mess when you finally explain it to him in clear tones just what you were trying to do.

The whole drive over you imagine what his hair must feel like sliding between your fingers, what the stubble on his jaw would feel like grazing your knuckles, and you almost run two red lights. You’ve been stockpiling courage since the bands little conversation with you but when you finally pull into the parking lot and spot his van, you have a moment of doubt.

Right until he comes into view, leaning into his driver side with his ass sticking out, and it rushes back in tenfold. He doesn’t notice you park but you notice him futzing with his lighter, sad sparks sputtering around the end of his cigarette. Your kitten heels clack on the pavement and he only looks up when you’re almost on him, your own lighter held out in your palm. “Need a light?”

Eddie freezes, hands cupped around his face. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to let his gaze roam downward and you’re really hoping he gives into it. “I didn’t know we had a dress code tonight.” He mumbles around the filter and finally has enough of a thought to drop his hands and take your lighter. It strikes on the first try but you see the slight quiver of his hands when his eyes finally drop to the deep plunge of your dress.

“Oh this old thing? I hardly wear it.” You give him a half turn, just enough to make the hem ripple and he coughs on his inhale.

“It looks good. Y-you look good.” He’s a stuttering mess. “Um, if you want the guys are already inside I was just…” Eddie trails off when you take enough steps to crowd his space and he backs into his open door. The hinges squeak under the pressure and he scrambles to grab onto the frame with his free hand.

“Eddie?” You ask sweetly and he visibly swallows. “I don’t really want to drink with the guys.” You reach over and gently pull his cigarette from his fingers, mostly out of fear he might drop it in his van.

“Oh?” He’s taking short breaths the closer you get and when you lay your hands lightly on his chest you can feel his heart going a mile a minute.

“Mhm.”

The door creaks under his white knuckles and he seems to be holding on for dear life.

“I asked you out for a drink, but this is good too.” Inched close enough that your whisper ghosts over his lips before you close that short distance. That first breath in he smells like his half a cigarette and his aftershave. When his brain finally catches up to what you’re doing he gasps against your kiss, a move that you use to your advantage. Your hands find homes behind his neck to hold him close while your tongue pushes its way past his lips and he moans into your mouth. Here he taste like the beer he’s been drinking and tobacco and you start to get lost him.

He breaks the kiss before you can deepen it, breaths huffed across your face when he drops his forehead to yours.

“Ohhh, I’m a big idiot.” He laughs out in a whisper. “A big, big fuckin’ idiot.”

“No, just a little slow on the uptake.” You can’t resists the urge to slide your fingertips into his hair and the eye roll it gets you is divine.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t picking up on this, I thought I screwed up a few weeks ago-“

“Ed.” You slide your thumb over to rest on his lips. “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“I know but-“

“I’m serious.”

“I still feel stupid-“

“Get in the van.” You cut him off when you’ve heard enough. His eyes go wide before he gives one jerky nod of his head and quiet ‘yes’ and climbs in, disappearing between the seats to the back. You give one look around the parking lot before climbing in and closing the door behind you, any modesty long gone when you have to crawl into the back and you know your dress is bunched up around your hips. In the dark it takes you a moment before you can adjust but there’s a hand wrapped around the back of your knee pulling gently to bring you down to his level. You’ve barely got his outline made out before he’s pulling you in roughly by the leg, his other hand planting hard on the nape of your neck to bring you in for a kiss.

He’s less unsure in the back of his van, moving you around to situate you where he wants you and he lets you push him back against the hard floor once you’re settled in his lap. Your hands push up his shirt while his palms run up your bare thighs, bunching up the thin cotton of your dress till he hits the high cut of your underwear. His laugh turns into a groan when you move quickly down his neck leaving wet, open mouth kisses in your wake. You push his shirt up high and let your teeth drag against his nipple, the hitching in his chest making you smile against sensitive skin. His fingers slide under the edges of your underwear to grab at the fat of your ass and you slide your own fingers under his belt to pull it open.

“Oh hey, you don’t-“

“I don’t what?” The buckle clinks against his wallet chain and it all hits the floor with a heavy thud. “I don’t have to do this?” You tug at his button while holding his gaze and pull his zipper down quick. “Do you want me to do this?” A pause after you pull his jeans open so he can answer you.

His chest heaves but he smiles wide, tongue poking out to run along his bottom lip. “Yes.” He nods at your smile and keeps nodding when you pull his jeans down his hips and when your hand edges under the waistband of his boxers and when you crawl backwards out of his grasp. “Please.” He begs on a breath he started to hold when your dress slid up your hips as you bent down to place a kiss next to his bellybutton. “Please please please.” He chants when your hand wraps firmly around him, your smile pressing into the soft part of his belly.

“Please? Please what, Eddie?” You ask between the dotting of kisses you leave along his hips and the excruciating slow drag of your hand. He squirms under you, his stare heavy on the top of your head where he watches you move further down. “Please more of this?” You roll your wrist to finally free him and the flushed pink tip of his cock glistens in the low light before it disappears in your fist. He lets out a stuttering groan and falls flat on his back to run his hands over his face harshly.

“Or please this?” The flat of your tongue runs up from the base and follows your hand, ending with a cheeky kiss at the tip. You think Eddie might be crying under his big palms with how much he’s shaking.

“Is it that?” Another long lick that pulls a deep breath out of him. You spare a glance up his body to catch him staring at you in the dark from between his fingers.

“Yes fuck-oh shit.” You spare him his grief and swallow him down, your lips meeting your fist and your tongue exploring the soft skin against it. Every ridge and vein gets attention and Eddie rolls his hips up to chase the pointed tip of your tongue. His hands finally come down from his face, no longer obscuring his view, but they hover over your head haltingly.

“You can touch me Ed.” You tell him after popping off his cock wetly. When he stalls for a moment too long your pull a hand to fall on the crown of your head and his fingers slide in automatically, hair held gently between his knuckles. His hand tenses the same as his thighs when you wrap your lips around him again, humming at the taste as he hits the back of your throat. He makes breathy noises above you that choke off when your tongue swirls to match the twist of your hand. You bury your face down until your nose hits his bush and when you swallow around him he lets a string of slurred curses go into the roof, both hands sliding into your hair to grip tight.

You come up for air and to see his face go slack, eyes hazy where he follows the string of spit still connected to your lip and the tip of his cock.

“I didn’t know this is what going for a drink meant.” He tries to crack a joke but between his unfocused eyes and the hitch in his voice you laugh for a different reason.

“I did mean a drink actually, but this is a lot more fun.” Your hand speeds up, slick sounds loud in the back of his van and his eyes roll. You like watching him loose his mind, his hair pulled at and cheeks pink from the flush that creeps up from his chest. The urge to sink your teeth in along his ribs itches at the back of your mind until you can’t ignore it anymore and you attack him, hand trapped between the two of you still working him while you nip at his side. His laugh tumbles into an almost squeal and then a low moan when the head of his cock rubs against your thigh and he ruts up into your hand to chase the heat of your skin. You notice his sudden urgency and make your way back between his knees.

“Now I know it doesn’t look like it,” you lick your palm and continue jerking him off, “but I don’t put out on the first date.”

“This is a date?” He asks dazedly.

“It can be.” You smile at him before dropping your mouth on him again, bobbing up and down quicker this time.

“Oh fuck-“ His hands grip at your hair again, trying to pull back gently at first before he’s a little more insistent. “H-hey.” He tries again and you just stare up at him and hum, tongue running over that sensitive spot under the head of his dick. He must see the grin on your face because he finally drops his head back with a thud and he’s inadvertently bucking his hips up and gasping your name.

“Fuck fuck please don’t stop.” He bargains with you and the whine at the end of his words makes your stomach flip. You can feel the dampness between your thighs, your own arousal ignored in favor of making Eddie go stupid. With him toeing the edge of oblivion and whimpering about it though you almost wish you had just fucked him, if only to chase your own end.

You get a couple of courtesy taps and a whiney ‘no wait-‘ before he finally stills, a gasp caught in his chest that finally shudders out when he comes. His big hands cradle the back of your head when you swallow around him pulsing until he’s hissing and then he’s busy pulling you up to meet him halfway for a bruising kiss.

In the afterglow you realize you’ve had your whole ass out and anyone walking by his van could have seen you through the windshield. You only get a moment of embarrassment though before he’s moving into you and pushing you into the back of his driver seat.

“Hey we can-“ He pushes his face up under your jaw and cuts you off with open mouth kisses from your ear to your shoulder sitting bare under a hanging neckline. “We can go in for that drink now if you want.” You giggle at his eagerness and his hair tickling down your dress. He hasn’t even put himself together yet and he’s already got his hands on a mission, fists pulling and bunching up the fabric of your dress.

“I don’t want to go in for a drink.” He parrots your line back to you and carefully plucks at the big button keeping the top of your dress together. “I would like to express my sincere gratitude,” He works the button open one handed and catches your eye before dipping his fingers under the thin fabric and into the cup of your bra, “and deepest apologies,” the rough pad of his fingertip grazes a sensitive nipple and you bite your lip while your lashes flutter at him, “for being the worlds most ignorant individual.” He finishes on a whisper before he kisses you, plush lips soft and seeking like his hand now slowly working its way up your inner thigh. The tip of his pinky grazes along the edge of your underwear when his tongue slides along the seam of your lips and you grant him access to everything, knees falling apart and mouth molding to his.

This may not be your little dingy hallway inside but it’s better than any work daydream you’ve had about him. He slides your underwear down and pulls at your knee, spreading you open for him to run a finger in the crease of your hip. That earns him stifled whine from you and he tuts quietly. “Don’t be quiet.” His free hand pulls the shoulder of your dress down so he can plant a kiss there. “I gotta earn my forgiveness.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, it worked out.” You press your forehead into his and grin at him, stars in both your eyes you’re sure of it.

“Yeah but we could have been doing this so much sooner.” Just the slide of his finger through your folds makes you shiver, the wet sound of you loud in the quiet. “And look at me being ignorant again.” Two fingers this time, sliding up to find that small bundle of nerves that makes your head drop back. Eddie busies himself at your neck again, chest pressed into you and pinning you in place, fingers running tight circles over your clit. “Ignoring you in need.” His tongue worries at a spot behind your ear, an attempt to get you to relax into him and he dips his fingers down to gather your slick. “Let me help you out and maybe I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

You laugh and he sinks those two fingers in to hear you gasp and he wastes no time in his search for the right angle. He starts a quick pace that makes your breath catch in your chest and those musician fingers hone in on the spot that makes your legs jump.

“Oh is that it?” He bites softly at your neck stretched out under his mouth and laughs against your heated skin when you let out a strangled ‘uh huh’.

“Right there?” He flutters his fingers over and over, your thighs twitching with every brush. The heat pools fast in your abdomen especially with him mouthing at any skin he can find. You feel like you’re melting against him, the heat trapped between you and his fingers moving ceaselessly and when he angles his hand to press his thumb onto your clit you roll into him, thighs holding his arm in place.

“That’s it.” He murmurs and it’s your turn to bury your face, mouth hung open on a silent gasp against his chest.

“Eddie, please!”

“Please what?” He uses your words against you in play. “Please this?” A deeper brush of his fingertips and he grinds his hand against you. Your groan shakes deep out of your chest and before that band snaps to send you over the edge your hand winds up in his hair to hold on. It’s a quick push when your orgasm hits and Eddie doesn’t stop, not with you pulling his hair and gasping against his chest, not until you have to pull away, lightheaded and chest heaving.

“So I think that’s a good first apology, right?” He says into your hair, hand still trapped between your thighs.

“First?”

“Yeah I mean I have at least four more to make.” He removes his hand gently and finds your ruined underwear to wipe his fingers off, all while giving you a sly side eye.

“Are they all gonna be like that?” You feel boneless in the stifling heat of his van. He shifts and pulls you with him, slotting you between his legs so you can stay laying against his chest.

“I mean, they don’t have to be.” He sighs.

“No, no I like these kind of apologies.” You giggle against him and he pulls the hem of your dress down back over your hips. “Just maybe not always in the back of a van?”

“Oh no, I’ve got all kinds of places in mind. I Can say sorry in that little hallways inside,” your eyes go wide in the dark where he can’t see, “I’m sure you have a back room at work I can sneak into.”

“Oh my boss will love that.”

“Shit, I can find a corner in the garage no one uses, really the possibilities are endless.”

You know someone has to have noticed Eddie being gone for so long and you expect a tap on a window any minute but for now you stay tucked up against him. You’ll buy him his drink when his friends discover his fogged over van.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Fem Reader #My Work #My Fic #asks!#THIS BITCH IS 6K????? since fuckin when 😩

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valuunit · 9 months

Text

Yearly Styles' Family Awards

Summary: in the middle of a pandemic, the Styles kids want to recreate an award show like the ones their parents used to go to.

some adorable and cute inexistent scenarios to cope with life :)

Content: husband!dadrry x wife&mom!Y/n (fluff), kids. Mention of covid and the pandemic (2021/2022), she/her Y/n. Food (kinda). A slight reference to sex (nothing deep, there'll be time for that ;) ).

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if there’s any mistake i’m sorry, i’ll try to correct it. It’s not proofreader yet (☞ ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞.

“Honey, honey, no, no, no. Mum's busy right now.” Harry whispered carrying his daughter who was trying to enter her mother's office.

“But I want to show her my drawing. And I want more paint." she squirmed in Harry's arms, trying to go back.

“You can have all the paint you want, but in a couple of minutes, remember that mommy's getting an award? That's why we baked the cake.” Harry was on his knees distracting the fidgety girl.

“You mean I baked it?” she giggled.

“Oh, so that's how you treat your assistant?” Harry combed the rebellious curly hair of Melody. She continued giggling.

“I thought there weren't gonna be fans waiting for me this time.” an optimistic voice said. Y/n, with sweatpants and a pretty blouse, was admiring her family.

“Mommy!” the girl jumped into her arms, Y/n rapidly caught her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, sunshine. What happened here?” she pointed to the pajama top of her kid, with chocolate and paint stains all over it, and looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow, he just smiled like saying 'sorry'.

“I made you a cake and a drawing.”

“Lie!” exclaimed Harry standing back up with a jump.

Melody held onto her mother's neck tightly and exclaimed, "Don't listen to him!".

“I left for thirty minutes!” she slowly put her daughter down because she was starting to strangulate her.

Harry softly laughed and went to hug her. “Congratulations, love. I'm proud of you.” and then he gave her a kiss.

“Thanks, H.” their little bubble popped with a cry, their baby boy. They giggled.

“I'll go, and let you see the cake that Mel and I made for you.” he gave his daughter a final look and Melody shook her head with a smile.

“Okay, I also want to see the cause for this colorful mess” Y/n returned her attention to the little girl, who grabbed her hand and let her into the kitchen.

“What did you win, mommy?” she said sitting on the island.

“Well... I'm not gonna bore you, but every year there are events to recognize the work of people, this time was for the book that I wrote.”

“The one with my drawing on the cover?”

“Yes! I guess you're also a winner” She giggled at the expression of the kid, she looked amazed.

“Where is it!”

“I think it's arriving in a couple of days.” she pinched the girl's nose.

“Why can't you go? I remember that you and daddy went to other places for more awards before.”

“Baby, remember that we have to stay at home, it's not safe right now.”

“But it will be?”

“Of course, honey. One day it'll be safe and perfectly fine, and one day you can go to those events if you want to.” Y/n couldn't help but feel sad and nostalgic, she brushed a piece of hair off of Mel's face to caress her puffy cheek.

“Of course I want to! Can I go with all the pretty clothes and makeup that you use? Or like the daddy's suits!”

Y/n laughed, getting herself as excited as her daughter.

“Well, one day, I promise.”

“But we have to start planning everything now.”

Mel's green eyes, incredibly alike to Harry's, looked at her hopeful, she also put her hands together in the form of pleading. And how could she say no to that adorable package, and an even better thing than just putting on clothes, something bigger?

“I have another idea..”

The famous chocolate cake just sat on the counter, while the mother-daughter duo ran upstairs.

“How's he?” said Y/n entering Daniel's room.

“Just wanted Puffy,” Harry said leaning in the crib watching adoringly his son playing with his beloved bunny plushie.

“He's a simple little man.”

“Let him be.” her husband turned around to face her. Y/n grabbed one of his hands and change the tone of her voice to a very sweet one.

“So, I was talking with Mel... we were talking about the award shows and that stuff, and I kinda made the suggestion of making an event here... like, right now, well no, tomorrow but you know, the assembling and that.”

“Okay.” he laughed. “So, we're hosting an award show.” she nodded “That's adorable, my love. I love it.”

“Uf, I knew you'll like it. Thanks, sweetheart.” she kissed his lips lightly. “I'll watch him from now on, go help Mel.”

“I'm expecting an award,” he whispered patting her bum on his way out.

“Dad!” Mel's high-pitched voice made its way into her parent's bedroom. She sounded desperate.

“What's the matter, honey?” Harry walked into her bedroom in full glam. He was wearing one of his old suits from Live on Tour just testing if it still fitted him.

“I don't know what to wear.” his daughter groaned, some cute dresses and suits on the carpet of her room.

“What about this one?” he took a plain black suit, in his opinion an adorable piece.

“It's too simple. I want one like yours.” she pouted and pulled from the shiny fabric of his blazer. His heart melted.

“Aw.” and then it hit him. “Oh, wait. I think I have one like mine for you.” he grabbed her hand and let her into his bedroom.

He dug up in the closet. He knew he kept the suit from the Kiwi music video. At that time Melody was barely a two-year-old but he treasured it for the right moment, now for example.

“Yeah, here. Do you like it?”

“Wow. Yes! It's so beautiful. Thanks, daddy!”

Harry's deep voice said quietly, "Tomorrow is the big day. You should try to get some sleep."

“I'm just finishing this” answered his wife, she was holding a paintbrush with which she was completing a cute banner with the words 'Yearly Styles' Family Awards'.

“Yearly Styles' family awards?” he whispered “Clever, love.”

“I know you're joking, but thanks.”

“Need any help?” he said sitting on the edge of the couch watching his wife in awe.

“You can cut out some circles in those sheets. Just use the red, yellow, and blue.”

“Mhm,” he mumbled quickly doing so.

Y/n looked up from the 's' she was working at that moment. She watched the ellipse-shape-like circles in the hands of her husband, recalling him wearing his old suit, he looked so similar and yet changed so much at the same time. It made her head hurt thinking of all the time that have passed since they ever met.

She was beginning to be a recognized lyricist in the pop industry and ended up writing songs for the album Midnight Memories. One day, when she was having a meeting with Louis Tomlinson, showing him a couple of songs, Harry walked into the hotel room.

At first, Harry rapidly exited the room, shouting sorry's, thinking they were in a private moment, but soon after they got presented by Louis.

“M'Harry. Nice to meet you. And, you know, sorry.”

“I know. Y/n, don't worry, you did nothing.”

“'kay, now, can we get finished? I want pizza...” Louis groaned like a toddler.

“Calm down, mate” said Y/n imitating his accent. He shoved her off and grinned, she didn't knew why.

Shortly after she began to encounter Harry very often. They began to talk more and grow closer, and when they exchanged phones they talked every single day via text and facetime, something they still do to this day.

Almost a year later they began to date. The relationship was kind of secret, with just the guys from the band and family and very close friends knowing, until Y/n got pregnant two years into the relationship.

A lot was happening with the band's hiatus. All the eyes were on Harry and became impossible to hide from the public.

They went through a lot of public scrutiny and unasked comments since anyone understood how that relationship happened without anyone knowing, and the hate and nasty gossip only made their bond even more, just for Melody to make them inseparable.

All of that and more went through her head for just watching Harry with a suit from some years ago. That made her want to cry, happy tears.

“You okay, honey?” his deep voice snapped her out of her line of thought. She moved her gaze from his hands to his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, I was just feeling melancholic...”

“About what?” he says leaving the scissors on the armrest of the couch.

“Watching you in your suit... Oh! And Melody's one, she looked adorable, I didn't know you kept it.” Y/n said standing up and walking to Harry, placing herself between his legs.

“I forgot to tell you, at the end I was asked if I wanted to keep some of the things, I wish I also kept the one I used.” his hands went to her hips as if they were magnets near some pure metal curve.

“Well, you still looked very handsome in the shiny jacket.” she grabbed the collar of his hoodie to attract his face to hers.

“I thought you said you liked me more in hoodies and sweatpants than fancy clothes,” he whispered looking at her lips.

“I actually like you more in your birthday suit, but you will always look great, even with a potato sack.”

“You missy, stop it now, otherwise I'm not responsible for what might happen later.”

Y/n just kissed him passionately. Her hands were still on his hoodie, while he's changed to her lower back.

The room had some light jazz in the background with the breaths from the couple as the protagonists.

Y/n pushed away from the kiss. “Wanna go to the bedroom?” she said quietly.

“What about this?” he shook his head towards the sign. He had a cocky smile, she knew he was just playing with her, but she can do that too. She liberated herself from his grip and turned her back to him.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I'll finish this-” and before she finished her sentence, Harry's hands were on her waist lifting her up. She squealed and giggled. “You're getting way too comfortable carrying everyone shorter than you around.”

He chuckled and let her go. “We can finish the sign tomorrow.” then he winked offering her his hand, which Y/n took. They walked to their bedroom as quietly as possible and locked the door.

“Mummy! Daddy!” a quiet knock startled the couple. Y/n jumped out of Harry’s embrace to put on something more than his hoodie she wore that night as pajama.

“A moment sweetie!” instinctively, she turned to the clock above the door, it makes 8 am. She groaned.

By this time, Harry was on his knees looking for the sweatpants he had been wearing the day before, which had probably been thrown away somewhere in the room a couple hours ago.

Y/n opened the door without expecting no one, she picked her head an turned around inspecting the surroundings quickly spotting her daughter carrying her brother out of his room.

“Even he was awake earlier.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine.” she kissed her head and blended over to take Danny, also giving him a kiss. “Good morning.”

“It’s okay, it was fun watching him blow bubbles with his drool.”

Y/n chuckled. Three out of four Styles walked into the master bedroom, Harry was standing next to the bed completely stiff. Y/n couldn’t help but let out another laugh.

“Good morning, daddy.” Mel we go to hug him.

“Morning. honey.”

“I have a schedule for today.” the girl said sitting on the bed.

“Really?” asked Y/n surprised. She loved the ideas of her girl.

“Yes! I was watching some videos and pictures. Is there a red carpet?”

“We have a beige carpet.”

“It’ll work.” she nodded with confidence. Harry and Y/n shared a proud look.

“Okay, little director. You can tell us about your plan at breakfast, how’s that sound?” Y/n said giving her a big smile.

“Can I have waffles?”

“Of course you can.”

“Yay!”

“To the left- no, the other left.”

“So the right...”

“No, my left your right.”

“We have the same left and right, darlin'” the both adults chuckled.

“What's taking so long! I want to start with the hair and makeup.” Melody entered the living room with two bags and a hair straightener.

“Where did you find those?“ Y/n said taking the black flat iron from her little hands.

“Your bathroom.” the girl simply said. “Is everything done? I already have the award winners.”

“Can we know who they are?” Harry asked playful.

“No.” Mel smiled.

“Not even the nominees?” Y/n continued.

“No, it's a surprise.”

“Fine, at least I won something?” her dad sat on an armchair crossing his arms and pouting.

“One, maybe two. But makeup and hair. Now.”

“You're being quite bossy today, Mel.” Y/n said ruffling through the curls of her daughter, Melody stood up and put a hand on her hip, forming an adorable pose. Both of her parents laughed, and so did she, hell, even her little brother. “I'll do the hair and you take care of the makeup. If you want there's some in my-”

“Third drawer on your closet's vanity.” she finished her mum's sentence walking to said vanity.

Y/n looked at her in disbelief and turned to look at Harry. “I swear, she's the perfect mix between you and me.”

“The best of two worlds.” he smiled as their baby was squealing, demanding some attention. Harry picked him up. “What are you going to wear today, buddy?” his baby just looked at him deep in the eye.

“Oh! I know. That cute suit with the gray vest.”

“The one mum sent?” His gaze returned to his wife. She nodded. “Ah, I love that little outfit, I want one for myself.”

“It seems like I need to wear a blazer and pants or I'll look left out of my family.” the woman giggled while playing with the little chubby fingers of her child.

“You know what you should wear?” she hummed in response looking at him again. “The Coperni vest with the matching pants.”

“I love you and your sense of fashion.” she kissed his lips.

“I imagine something purple” Melody put her hand on her chin thinking.

“I trust you, sweetie” Y/n had a sweatband stopping her hair from interrupting the process.

“You in purple and daddy in pink!” she clapped in excitement. “And me in blue and Danny in… black?”

“Maybe Danny can go without makeup, i think he’s skin is a little too sensitive for now.” she looked at her daughter with a warm smile.

“Yeah, you’re right mum.”

“Well, let’s get to work, I still have to do everyone’s hairs.” Melody smiled even more exited and went floor the products she needed.

“Not yours.” the voice of her husband creeped from behind, caressing her hair. “I can do it.”

“Uh. I don’t know if i trust you with hair. Remember Mel’s winter festival incident.” Harry looked at her with a offended look.

“It was just a slip, and her ear is fine.”

Melody returned. “I have a scar.”

“And I’m sorry, honey. But tell mommy how much I’ve improve.”

“Uh, well, you are better.” she shook her head in agreement. “You’re in… good hands mum.”

Y/n laughed and said “Okay, I’ll confide in my star stylist’s word.”

At the end Y/n ended up with a glowy cosmic like makeup, not bad for an almost 8-year-old, and a half ponytail, not bad for a Harry.

In Harry’s turn her daughter took a similar approach in his makeup, just different colors. She used a lot of glittery and bright colors, a lot of highlighter as well. Later his wife combed his hair very simple.

While Melody was doing her own makeup, with Harry’s assistance, Y/n was dressing Daniel up. He looked like a little gentleman from the 40s with his outfit.

“I want all my hair down.” said Melody, her hair ended up being just her natural curls better only better groomed, and with some shiny golden clips.

“It’s beige carpet time!”

Y/n staged her and Harry’s phone in two different angles to record the event as well as using a regular camera to take the pictures. The first one in pass was Melody. She wore her suit with admirable confidence, walked to the middle of the hall and pose for her mom. Some serious, some silly and done.

The next one was Harry with Danny in his arms. Harry was a natural in front of the cameras and as confident as his daughter. Danny was just giggling and going along.

Thirdly, Y/n, at first she felt a little self conscious, but with her family cheers she remembered there was nothing to be anxious about, she was in the confort of her own home with the people she loved the most. She walked through the soft material in her bare foot. She loved her outfit and according to Harry, she was rocking it. Harry took her photos.

And last but not least, they set up the camera to take a couple of family pics, most of which were very blurry, but it was a lot of fun.

no Then they moved to the living room, it was time for the award ceremony. Melody made six different envelopes with the confidential information.

“Good afternoon to everyone. I’m happy to announce the first event of the yearly Styles’ family awards.” she said standing on an old coffee table and with an unplugged karaoke microphone.

Y/n and Harry were sitting on the floor resting their backs in the couch, Danny was sitting between his mum’s legs.

Harry cupped his mouth and cheered. “Woo!”

“Thanks.” Y/n and Harry chuckled. “The first award of the day is…” Y/n grabbed an iPad and played a drum sound. “The best mum in the life...” she looked at the sign of the Yearly Styles’ Family Awards. “Am. If the year. Best mum of the year.”

“Oh god, who could it be…” Harry whispered with his hands covering his mouth.

“The winner is…” iPad drums. “Y/n Styles-Y/l/n!”

“Oh god, yes! Can you…” she passed the baby to Harry, and he gave her a peck. “Yay!”

The awards were origami pigeons, also made by Mel. Y/n received her first one, and hopefully not last, award. “Congrats, mommy.”

“Thanks, sunshine. Oh god. Ahm… I don’t know what to say. Thanks to the ones that made me a mother.” she look at her family sitting in front of her. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, it motivates me every day to wake up and see your beautiful faces and hear your voices. I love you, my angels. And a honorary mention to your daddy. It literally wouldn’t be possible without you.”

“Yeah, mamma!” said Harry.

Melody stepped back up and presented the next award. “Next… best dad of the year.” this time i read of a drums sound effect there was an ad. “Again. The best dad of the year…” drums. “Harry Styles-Y/l/n!”

“Yeah!” Harry punched the air. “Thanks, honey.” he carefully grabbed his pigeon. “Hm… Love, i’m gonna copy your speech, a little bit, I hope that doesn’t bother you.” He smiled to Y/n, who shook her head and smiled back. “Perfect. So, I always knew I wanted to be a dad, but i never knew that it would be this great. Waking up to see you is a blessing every time, I love you all more than anything. Thanks.” he blowed a kiss to his family.

“Great speeches tonight!” she exclaimed. “Okay. The next one is…” a different video of drums. “Best little brother/son of the year!”

Y/n stood up with Danny in her arms, he laughed don’t knowing what was going on. Harry also stood up cheering his son.

“Congrats, baby D.” his sister kissed his cheek.

“Look love, it’s yours.” Y/n took his pigeon and showed it to him.

“Ah!” he responded.

“So touching.” Harry said and hugged his son.

“Before the next award. We’ll go to an ad break a.k.a this little guy needs some food.” Y/n said before Melody went back to the podium. Y/n and Danny went to the kitchen.

“Daddy.” Melody said quietly. “I need your help.”

“What’s the matter?”

“There’s a category of best parent… I don’t have a winner. You are both the bests parents in the universe.” she whispered looking to the floor.

“Aw, honey, that’s so sweet.”

“I don’t want to make anyone feel bad.” she pouted.

“Well, we could ended in a tie.”

“That’s boring.”

Harry chuckled. “Okay. Ahm. I don’t know. A competition?”

“Like an eating competition.”

“Yeah… Or it could be race.”

“Ohh! A race with us on your backs.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a tie, honey?”

“Yeah, maybe it’s easier.”

“It’s easier for my back too.”

“Okay, old man. A tie.”

“Eh!”

“I need to make a new pigeon!”

After a new pigeon and a cop yoke of seconds later, Y/n walked into the living room. Danny’s head was in her shoulder, his eyes looked sleepy. “Ad break finished.”

“Okay, fifth award of the night. Best older sister/daughter of the year.” she stood in the low table and said “Am. Thank you to me, for this award. Thank you to my mum and dad for creating me and my baby brother, i wouldn’t be a daughter nor a sister without you, and yada yada yada. Ahm… yeah thanks, love you lots.”

“Woo!” said Y/n quietly.

“But the final and most competitive one. The best parent of the year…”

“Oh god.” Y/n gasped and covered her mouth.

“This was a tough one. But after some deliberation the result is.” the iPad’s sound went down a half, but it still played. “It was a tie. Y/n and Harry Styles-Y/l/n are the best parents.”

“That’s so cute.” Y/n left Danny laying on the couch. “Thanks, sunshine.”

“We did a great job in here.” Harry whispered in her ear before kissing her neck. His hands rounded her waist and gave her a side hug. Soon after Melody joined the hug.

That memory filled their brains and their phones’.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #husband!harry #dadrry #fluff

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meowizard · 2 years

Text

rating cookie's forms while chopping wood part two

by someone who's taken classes

immediately, i'm struck by the fact that they're not only using one hand, their other hand is.... supporting their arm? PLUS their legs are CROSSED??, and not only does that mean they could pull a muscle, all their strength is coming from their shoulder, which puts them at high risk of dislocating something if they swing it any faster. 1/10

strawberry my beloved you've restored my faith. she doesn't have a tight grip of the axe, but she is holding it near the head and then sliding down as she swings. YES. she's not angled right but she gets a pass because shes 13. 9/10

oh good lord. they start off alright, but then??? let go?? of the axe, making it look like they're throwing it at the wood like a swingball...?. . points for being funny but that is a terrifying thing to do with an axe. also, another child that should not be chopping wood. 4/10

gramps? are you using magic sparkles to chop wood again? whatever. he's swinging it below his waist in a very nice arc, and has his hand firmly enough around the axe for me not to be nervous, but again, one hand. i really hope the flower can see for him. 6/10

DTUFJZTJDTXJUTDTZZKSKSJS he fucking HATES this on god look at him. not only that, but hitting this with your non-dominant hand and backwards is likely to hurt AND take a long ass time on top of every other thing he's doing wrong. 0/10 i'm just sorry they did this to u king

okay it's. kind of impossible to chop wood completely safely with. yknow. one arm. soooo ig she's angled herself right and she gets 5/10

i wish his right hand was a liiiiittle higher at the peak of the swing, but other than that he's doing very well!,!... is what i would say if his eyes weren't fuckin closed!!! and WHERE pray tell is your passion?!?! 7/10!!!!

stepping forward as you swing is very wrong and dangerous, and, shes not holding it right. it looks like shes hitting below her waist, but thats moot if she's swinging so far she could dislocate something. 2/10

swinging the axe behind your head and out of your peripherals is SO dangerous oh my god. the arc is nice, but she's holding it by the end of the handle which means it could so easily slip out of her hands. however, i don't doubt she doesn't know what she's doing. 3/10

NOPE! his clothes are a huge goddamn hazard, he's holding the axe by the end, his body is completely forward and he's hitting at face height!!! he's likely to get more splinters than firewood, 1/10

#lots of low scorers in this one #(i am up 4 requests also)#cookie tag #affogato cookie #cream unicorn cookie #strawberry cookie #beet cookie #poison mushroom cookie #caramel arrow cookie #clover cookie #pure vanilla cookie #black raisin cookie #espresso cookie #judging cookie's wood chopping

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rosewaterandivy · 5 months

Text

Epilogue | for once in my life

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C: 5.7k

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, yearning, Tuscan summers, a flashback or two, a wedding, and my usual filth™️

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me while I worked on an ending for our two beloved idiots. 🥺 Truthfully, part of me put off writing the epilogue simply because I didn’t want to let Trouble and Steve go— they’re so near and dear to me! But, all good things must come to an end and I hope I’ve given them a fitting one. Thank you all for reading along and sharing your joy with me, it’s been incredible to experience! 💜💜💜

Series masterlist | Series Playlist | trouble will find me (for Trouble, most ardently) | rebel without a clue (for Steve, with love)

The distance was difficult, only mitigated by the positively unreal Tuscan summer. Though the university was in Bologna in the Emilia-Romagna region, since your classes centered on Dante, you along with a few other students, called Florence your home away from home for the summer.

The sun shone bright and hot against the ancient stones of Palazzo Medici Riccardi, and felt good against your back as you lazed in the garden and courtyard on a rare day off from combing through medieval texts in jam-packed libraries and dust motes floating through the air.

Crossing the bustling street you popped into your local gelateria only to be greeted with an exuberant, “Bella!” from Alessandro behind the counter. “Finally you grace us with your presence,” He teases, already scooping out a serving of arancia rossa sorbetto for you into a cup.

“Grazie,” You say with a smile, taking the sorbetto from his outstretched hand. “Had a slow start to the morning is all, Sandro.”

“Certo, I know how it is,” He says with a knowing wink.

To be fair, the slow start to the day was warranted, given the stress-induced dream you had last night. There you were, minding your own business, thinking about Steve and the voice note he’d left you earlier, and the next thing you know, your brain decided a trip down memory lane was warranted.

“But what do I do about the dress?” Your voice is choked, tongue stumbling over the words.

It hangs in your closet, mocking you. A pink dust bag with an elegant calligraphy card that lists your former wedding date and ex-fiancé’s last name. Robin’s fingers graze the zipper on the garment bag, fingers slowly settling along the pull.

“You could try it on?”

She says it as if she wishes she didn’t have to, as if the next time you would put on the wedding dress would be for the alteration appointment which you had already canceled, along with everything else.

Truthfully, the day you found the dress wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. Sure, you’d looked around online and at a few boutiques with Nancy, Robin, your mother, and would-be mother-in-law. Nothing struck your fancy though, each dress you slipped on had something wrong with it— too tight, too loose, too many embellishments, not enough embellishments, too heavy...

It was Steve who suggested the boutique, actually. One of his mother’s friends had a daughter who’d gotten her dress from a place in Indianapolis and said the service and selection were both top-notch. So you went and made a day trip out of it; Eddie and Steve would drop you and the girls off at the boutique and hang out in the city for the day.

Though, they really did try to weasel their way in to the appointment.

“The fact that you won’t let us join you is misandry.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “No, it isn’t, Eds!”

“Okay,” he relents, turning around to face you in the backseat, “Maybe not misandry, but definitely discriminatory. Dudes just wanna have fun!”

Steve laughs, pulling up in front of the boutique, waves to your mother who’s waiting on the sidewalk. “Y’never know,” he teases, “Could need a second opinion in there. Especially once they open the champagne.”

Eddie squawks at that, “You get to try on dresses and drink booze? I’m offended I’ve been left out here.”

Robin opens the backdoor with a roll of her eyes, “No boys allowed, dingus.”

You follow suit, giving Steve a small smile, “Thanks for driving us.”

His gaze softens, eyes meeting yours, “Happy to help. Now, go find a stunner in there for us, will ya?”

With a shake of your head, you bring yourself back to the moment. Sitting on the floor of your former home, moving boxes and tape littering the floor ready for you to pack up the pieces of your life. You look to Robin again, she’s unzipped the garment bag entirely revealing the bodice and skirt of the gown.

She watches you thoughtfully, “I mean, just to see if you still like it? That way we’ll know if we need to pack it or sell it.”

Sighing, you wipe your damp palms against your thighs and stand up. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Okay.”

Between the two of you, you managed to wrestle into the dress. Robin securing the delicate straps as you adjust the cups and situate yourself. The door creaks open to reveal Nancy, her eyes bright with interest.

Robin gives up with her attempts to fix the zipper and numerous buttons on the back, steps aside for Nancy to intervene.

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Robin says, voice soft. “It looks amazing on you! Same as the day we found it.”

“It’s one hell of a dress.” Nancy agrees, the zipper pull sliding home. “No one would say no to you in that.”

Your laugh comes out as a choked thing, wet and raspy. You wipe your eyes in an effort to prevent any tears from falling. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t even have to see the dress to know that he no longer wanted you.

“Thanks, guys.”

Feeling brave enough to look at the mirror, you pause in perusal. And sure enough, it’s a stunner. Delicate lace embellished the corseted bodice, waist nipped just enough to amplify the bust. The skirt flowed down in layers of silk and tulle, the lace accenting the frothy peaks and valleys of it.

Turning, you noticed the low-dip of the back, highlighted by the beginnings of the train. It was a gown meant for a cathedral wedding, a long aisle as you walked toward the altar. A beautiful wedding dress for a wedding that no longer was.

It was getting difficult to justify keeping it.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, bursting into the room slack-jawed, “Your tits look great!”

Robin smacks him, “No boys allowed, dingus!”

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t you know what a closed door means?”

He grins, “I think we know by now that, no, I clearly do not.”

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, you turn to Nancy eyes wide. “Nance, the door–”

She shuts it quickly, keeping a hand on the knob. Robin and Eddie stop their bickering long enough to share a meaningful glance. You fist the full of the skirt in both hands and motion for Robin’s help in getting the dress off.

“Uh.” Steve says, voice muffled through the closed door, “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing!” You’re quick to respond, trying and failing to keep the panic from your voice, “Just packing up some stuff.”

“Riiiight.” He drawls, “Then do I hear Eddie in there talking about tits?”

“Hey man,” Eddie says in his own defense. “I just wandered in here, I know nothing.”

“And why is the door locked?”

Nance’s eyes go to the doorknob as it jiggles in her hand. “We’re trying to figure out what to do with the dress,” she says in a breathless rush.

If looks could kill, Nancy would have dropped to the floor. You narrow your eyes at her and turn with a huff.

“What dress— t-the wedding dress?”

“Yes, Steve.” Robin sighs. “That’s the one.”

The doorknob swivels again, “C’mon, just open the door guys. Eddie’s seen it and I am officially the only one who hasn’t.”

“No!” You shout.

Everyone stops to look at you, eyes wide.

“I mean,” you sputter indignantly, stepping out of the dress and throwing on your overly large t-shirt. “S’not a big deal, I’ll probably sell it, anyway.”

Robin and Eddie maneuver it back into the garment bag with a zip just as Nancy steps away from the door, gaze soft taking in your drawn face.

Steve stumbles in soon after to find you, pants-less, the hem on your shirt grazing your bare thighs, furiously taping boxes closed and scribbling in sharpie.

“Nothing to see here!” You say, stumbling into your bike shorts, tugging them back up. “No siree, nothing at all.”

His chest falls slightly, looking from you to the pink garment bag and back again. Robin catches the minute change in his expression before he’s picking up a box and carrying it out into the hall, not a word to be said about the dress.

And all that runs through your mind is a frantic buzz of ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress.’ Never mind that you were no longer a bride and Steve was never your intended groom. Any rational know-how kicked from your thoughts in an echo of your hammering heart.

Why your exhausted brain conjured up that particular episode, you had no idea. The instance was promptly forgotten, the dress stored at your parent’s place, and Steve never brought it up again.

Thank God for that.

Maybe it was because of Nancy and Jonathan’s looming nuptials. He’d popped the question not long after Nance moved in, and it had been full-steam ahead since March. The ceremony was to happen at the end of summer, just as your intensive was wrapping up.

She’d nearly had a coronary when you’d expressed your doubts about being able to attend.

“I’m not getting married without you Trouble, so sweet-talk those profs into letting you sit your exams early and get the fuck back home.” She sighs down the line, “There’s only so much of moping Steve we can take— Eddie is about ready to strangle him.”

You huff a laugh, “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s held out this long.”

“Yeah, she agrees dryly, "We all know you two'll take any excuse to get Steve in a headlock.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” You scoff. “That punk needs to be put in his place.”

You’d taken up Nance on her no-nonsense advice and your professors had graciously allowed you to submit your final papers early in order to make the wedding. Unfortunately, you’d miss out on a few of the celebrations like the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner— your flight would be landing just as the festivities began— but, Nancy and Jonathan had agreed to help you surprise the gang.

For all Robin, Eddie, and Steve knew there was absolutely, positively no way you could get out of your scheduled final exams. It sucked, as Robin rightfully pointed out, that you’d have to miss your best friend’s wedding but they all understood.

Steve was more hangdog about it than ever.

“Thanks Sandro,” You call out, plastic spoon in your mouth as you quickly step out the door, leaving a €5 note on the counter before he could stop you with a, “Your money is no good here, bella!”

Your phone buzzes in your bag, ducking under an awning your scramble through your well-worn tote bag to find it, throwing your sunglasses on in the process.

“Hey Fratty light,” You greet with a smile, spooning another cool helping of blood orange flavored ice into your mouth. “Do any good keg stands lately?”

Steve’s laugh nearly eclipses the warmth of the sun on your skin, a surge of heat building low in your stomach.

“At least I didn’t fall off the keg.”

“That was one time!” You scoff, jogging across the street before an aggressive Vespa can mow you down. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you give the driver the ombrello gesture and shout, “Vaffanculo!”

He chuckles at your outburst, “Tell ‘em babe!”

“I’ll have you know, I stuck that landing Harrington and, it was quite the crowd-pleaser if I recall.”

“Sure Trouble,” You can nearly hear the eye roll at your expense, “It was the landing and not the fact that you were wearing those panties.”

The fact that he remembered the pair in question has you reeling, you nearly run into a fellow pedestrian in your dazed state.

“Anyway,” You say, cleaning your throat. “What’s on the sad boy agenda for today? Getting into divorced dad rock, any Matchbox-20 or Creed in your future?”

“God, you’re awful, and no, thanks very much.”

You hear a door slam and a car engine turn over. Someone muttering about Steve’s ‘utter lack of taste’ in music— Eddie, without a doubt.

He sighs down the line, pulling on your heartstrings because you miss them all so damn much, but Steve most of all.

“Just helping with some wedding stuff.” His voice is softer, sadder knowing you won’t be there to celebrate with them. “Boring shit, you know.”

You hum in agreement, “Well I’ll let you get to it. Don’t let Eddie flirt with too many bridesmaids!”

“You got it, chief,” Steve says, “Take care of yourself babe.”

“You too, big boy.” A huff of laughter at hearing his scoff, “Byyyeeee.”

And maybe it happens like Nance said it would, things just fall into place when they’re meant to.

After a flight from hell— a toddler would not, for love or money, stop kicking the back of your seat on the evening flight from Milan to Berlin, and you were stuck in the backmost row from Berlin to Indianapolis on the red-eye. It was a miracle you rolled up to your parents' house in one piece. You’d arrive at the venue to get ready with the rest of the bridal party where you’d hopefully be able to keep Robin sworn to secrecy.

You weren’t above putting her into a headlock, if it came down to it.

Dress, shoes, and make-up bag hastily thrown in your mom’s car, you drove to the venue just outside of Hawkins. A lovely little outdoor property owned by a local family, groves of trees and the finest collection of wildflowers you’d ever seen— fitting for Nancy and Jonathan.

You arrive in a slightly mussed frenzy, arms weighed down with your bridesmaid dress and a weekend bag that did fuck-all to protect you from the sudden onslaught of summer rain. Cursing the permeability of Indiana summers, you walk swiftly toward the bridal cottage.

The squelch of your shoes and drops of rain accompany you across the tiled path. Breathe. A steady inhale pulls the comforting scent of petrichor to your lungs, tucked safely behind the cage of your ribs. A shift in the light, a cloud makes way for the sun to shine once more; you scramble for the club masters perched on your head, impossibly tangled (of course) in a damp nest of hair.

Pried free, you rest the glasses against your nose bridge and stroll to the door. Before you can wrestle a hand free to knock, the door swings open to reveal a tipsy Vickie and bemused Nancy. A smirk settles on your lips as the two shuffle you into the cottage, tutting at the state of your hair and general tardiness.

“It is a wedding y’know,” Vickie teases grabbing the canvas bag from you. “Could make an effort to be on time.” She drops a wink your way before absconding toward the vanity table to deliver your belongings elsewhere.

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes, taking the dresses from your arm. “Ignore her,” she soothes, “Seems the title of temporary co-M.O.H. has gone straight to her head.” She shoves a flute of champagne into your empty hand and leads you inside. “But you’re here, so the title can rightfully fall to you.”

“And how is the blushing bride?” You smile, taking in her cool, calm demeanor.

She’s notoriously hard to ruffle, so you’re not surprised to find Nancy the same as ever, albeit a tad buzzed from the champagne.

“Fuck a duck!” Robin shouts, colliding with part of the doorway as she takes the corner to quickly in her haste to get to you, having heard your voice from down the hall. She trips falling into you in a quasi-hug that’s mostly all elbows jabbed into your ribs.

“Walk with dignity, you overgrown toddler,” You laugh sipping some champagne, wrapping your arm around her in a proper hug. She buries her face into your neck with a smile. “And before you even ask, no you cannot, under any circumstance, tell your emotional support Steve about this.”

You feel her frown before she pulls back from you, “I can keep a secret y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it Bucks, just wanna surprise him is all.”

“He has no idea? Oh shit, this is gonna be good.” She says with a cackle before trotting off to help Vickie with her dress.

“Alright Wheels,” You announce polishing off your flute of champagne, “Let me at it, where’s the hairspray?”

After furious coating of L’Oreal’s finest to her hair after you’d secured a few flowers in place, you cough in a haze of hairspray and sagely advise, “That’s good for three slow dances, two fast ones, and one Lambada…” You warn, capping the canister to set it aside. “But if you wanna mosh, I’d suggest another coat.”

Nancy laughs at the suggestion, “I think we’re good.” She checks your handiwork in the mirror with a smile, “Can I ask you something Trouble?”

“Shoot.”

She turns to face you and lowers her voice to a whisper while the other bridesmaids are busy with false eyelashes and zipping up dresses. “Have you given any thought to what I said back in May?”

Ah, that conversation. The one where she (lovingly) warned you off of Steve if you weren’t certain about your feelings for him. Your big, overwhelming feelings. As if you could forget them, even thousands of miles away.

“You know,” You begin, voice pitched to meet hers, “I had a bit of time to think over the summer, no distractions, just me and the Tuscan sun.”

She stands to slip into her dress and you follow to assist— it’s a beautiful number, all minimal sleek lines and fitted to her like a glove. Nancy is gorgeous, but Nancy on her wedding day is otherworldly. She dutifully turns for you to button up the back and arrange the train for photos.

“And?”

Your eyes meet in the mirror, hers curious but not prying, yours wide, reeling from it all— the pro/con lists, numerous conversations with your mom, Eddie, and Nance, the letters, emails, voice notes, calls and texts from Steve. Somehow, some way they all amounted to this:

“You remember my twenty-first birthday?”

“How could I forget,” She chuckles knowingly, “Spin the bottle, right?”

A nod, you busy yourself smoothing out the few lines in the silhouette of the dress. “And a bit of liquid courage.”

There is no good reason why the eight of you should be doing this. Back at the loft after a night of carousing and bar-hopping, imbibed enough complimentary birthday drinks that spin the bottle seemed like a good idea. Even if the bottle in question is some ridiculously expensive high-roller shit swiped from Mr. Harrington’s study.

You’re warm, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder and whispering in his ear— goading him about kissing someone. Steve hopes it’s not you.

The glass mouth of the bottle spins to a stop in front of Jonathan who groans loudly before clambering over the whoops and hollers.

“Lay it on ‘im Munson!”

You tip backwards and shriek in glee when their lips touch. Eddie returns to your side with a roll of his eyes, pokes your knee with his finger. “Pucker up, buttercup. You’re next.”

Argyle cracks his knuckles, taps his chin thoughtfully, “Alright chica.” He says, “Hope you get Nance or Vic. Make it nice and steamy up in here.”

Steve hopes it’s him and not Nancy, selfishly. The rest of them be damned, if the bottle lands on him he’s going to frog-leap over Eddie, shove him to the side and kiss you good. If it lands on anyone else, he may get arrested for murder tonight.

There’s really no excuse for it— the longing. Best friends since childhood who drifted apart because, as always, he was a dumbass. Kissed you all of one time after the Homecoming dance freshman year and that was barely a peck.

The bottle lands on Vickie.

Slightly tipsy and putting on a show, you bite your bottom lip and lean in, slanting your mouth over hers with a soft sigh. The sound sinks into Steve’s gut and he groans in agony— jealous you’d rather kiss his ex or the redhead rather than him. Nevermind that the bottle was nowhere near landing on him.

“Keep it PG, ladies!” Robin calls, “This is taking way too long!”

“Bucks, shut up. I’m trying to take a video.” Nancy slaps the phone from Eddie’s hand.

Having had enough of it all, Steve stands. “Not that this isn’t how I want to spend my night…” he mumbles, hands patting his thighs. “But I’m peacing out.”

You look up, distracted, and bottom lip a little wet from Vickie, eyes hazy from the long night of celebrating, and quirk your head. “You leavin’, Stevie? Wan’ me to walk you?”

“What— like he’s gonna get lost from here to his room?”

Steve is going to get arrested tonight for murdering Eddie. Tries to keep his cool, regardless.

“S’okay birthday girl, I’ll be fine. You have fun.”

You hop up anyway, a bit blundering in your step, and grab his hand to yank him forward. “C’mon… I gotcha.” Fortified with liquor, you tug him along, turning a corner and chattering about how as much as you appreciate that expensive whiskey, you’d rather have a beer. There’s nothing better than some pretzels, beer, and a movie.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry.” Your hand loosens before you pull it away, self-consciously.

“For what?”

“I know we haven’t been, like, close for a while now. I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Oh. The realization dawns on him now, like a crash of lightning— you think he’s guarded… but he’s only been reserved for your sake.

He calls your name, followed by a murmured, “C’mere for a second.”

You lean against his bedroom door, dazed but curious. Steve steps forward until you’re nearly chest to chest, back against the wood. Your mouth opens with a nearly inaudible gasp, but he can see your pulse kick up in your throat. “Yeah?”

"You remember our first kiss?" He waits for you to nod before continuing. "I think I owe you a do-over."

Confusion flits across your face, a solitary brow quirked up in interest. "You wanna mulligan my first kiss, like... seven years after the fact?"

He ducks his chin in embarrassment, skin flushing with heat. "Yeah, I mean, if you're open to it?" He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles, "I just think you deserve better."

You bite your lip in thought, and Steve wants nothing more than to shrivel up and die— but then, you nod, and before he can think better of it, he takes his chance.

Purposefully, Steve tilts your face up fingers, trailing along your chin and jaw, thumbing the full of your bottom lip. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, all whooshes and erratic beats, almost enough to drown out the words that fall from his lips.

And then, the perfect genius that is Steve Harrington leans down to close the distance between you. Satisfied that your face is tilted just so, his hand sweeps back your hair to cradle your head as his lips descend to yours.

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in world— like it isn’t past three in the morning and you’re about a minute from slipping under. He kisses lazy, slow, and sublime. Presses you closer to him, an arm winding around your waist to pull you from the wall. More, kissing—tongues and lips and teeth— more of that touch you’ve only dreamed about and you want to kick yourself for missing it, for even daring to fantasize when the real thing is so much more.

Your palms are on his chest, pawing at him for leverage, struggling to refrain from bucking your hips up into him like you so desperately want to do. Steve pulls back with a contented sigh, and you’re surprised there isn’t a string of saliva strung between the pair of your for all the swapping spit that just occurred. There’s nothing but you and him. His gaze, so tentative and sweet, meets yours briefly as he stands back hands shoved quickly into his pockets.

“I meant something like that.”

Your mouth tugs at a corner, as if you could laugh or cry. Or smile.

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle, brandishes a small, hopeful smile, and runs a hand through his hair.

You nod. And it’s enough.

“I–I think I’ve known for a while.” You admit sheepishly, looking for any last-minute adjustments that need to be made before the precessional. One hand grasping her train, you follow Nancy toward the door. Taking a shaky breath in, you say, "Guess some part of me has been in love with him since I fell off the fence and into his backyard that first summer."

She stops short and turns back to you elated because she knows the story all too well. Steve doesn't get drunk enough to talk about it often–- the man has a wooden leg, hand to god. But once in a blue moon, it'll happen: how the new neighbor's daughter nearly busted her ass sneaking back home way after her curfew, too buzzed on shitty wine coolers and reeking of weed to realize that she'd fallen on the wrong side of the fence.

Hastily, Robin thrusts a bouquet of flowers into Nancy’s hand. Just before the band starts up, Nancy gives your hand a squeeze and advises, “Sometimes what’s meant for you comes back, Trouble. Don’t let it slip by, okay?”

Steve is just looking to survive the day, he’ll be grateful to get through, honestly.

He was beyond bummed you couldn’t be there for Nance’s wedding and that he’d be sitting with her cousin instead— she’d talked his ear off during the rehearsal dinner last night about her current rewatch of Sex and The City. He’d never been so relieved to be pulled into bridal party duties by Eddie than he was that night.

And, to top it off, you weren’t answering your phone. Logically, he knew you’d be in exams for most of the day but you normally sent him a text or voice note once you woke up or before you made it to class for the day.

He’s pathetic. Eddie forced him to leave his phone in the groom’s suite and now he feels phantom vibrations from something that isn’t even in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he lines up ready to escort Vickie and mentally preparing himself for a detailed recounting of the havoc that Samantha’s absence has caused the SATC franchise from the Wheeler cousin.

“You know,” A lazy, familiar voice drawls to his right, “If I was a riptide, I wouldn’t take you out.” An arm loops through his, comfortable and intimate.

But no— it couldn’t possibly be…

“Hey, Harrington.” You say, quietly, knocking your hips to his, casually holding a bouquet in your hand, all easy smiles and warm touches. When Steve finally does turn, he blinks a few times to confirm that you're not some hallucination.

Because you’re here, impossibly, you’re home, and everything is finally right in the world.

You reach over to straighten his tie, the alexandrite ring gleaming on your right hand and catching the light.

“How did you—” He stammers, bereft of language.

But then there’s that smirk he adores. “Some of us are stealthy, y’know. Like a ninja.”

“Oh, fuck me right in the mouth.” He laughs loud and bright, a few people turn back in their chairs to look.

You sputter briefly as the precessional begins, hand lighting on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Uh, that can certainly be arranged, Harrington.”

In that moment he knew, with a certain sense of finality, that he had no choice but to love you; all his love and, if he’s being honest, fear, reflected there in your eyes.

The ceremony is beautiful, of course, and the reception is now in full swing. The new Mr. and Mrs. Byers shared an adorable first dance to “At Last” by Ella Fitzgerald, which nearly had you tearing up before Steve twirled you out onto the dancefloor.

“Hey, good lookin’,” He says with a smile so sweet, it almost makes you weak in the knees.

It’s a slow song, something to get the couples up and out of their seats. Over his shoulder you spy Robin and Vickie making goony eyes at eachother while Eddie and Argyle stumble around both trying to lead the other— idiots.

“Hi, Steve.” You reply, eyes making their way back to him. “Y’know, they say you should never trust a man who can dance.”

“And why’s that, honey?”

You shrug, “Dunno. Apparently they’re all heartbreakers or something.”

Steve, thanks to his mother’s needling and his father’s need to keep up appearances, could dance. He’d escorted many a debutante, including yourself, during Cotillion. You can still hear Savannah’s nasally “Did you know that five out of six debs marry their escorts?”

But, then again, she was also drinking from the fun flask at the ripe age of sixteen. So, do with that what you will.

He spins you easily, like it’s nothing, and before you know it you’re back in his arms. His brow is furrowed in thought, but what he could possibly be thinking you hadn’t a clue. So you continue to follow his lead across the dance floor and silently thank Mrs. Harrington for forcing you and Steve into those dance classes way back when, even if he stepped on your toes and you retaliated with an accidental elbow to his ribs— knock-kneed teens the pair of you.

So much has changed since then.

The music pauses, as someone announces that the bride will toss the bouquet. You go to find the bar, but Steve promises he’ll come back with a drink for you instead and then Eddie is hustling you toward the crowd of “single ladies.”

“Eds, no.” You attempt to swat him away, but he’s having none of it.

“Far as I know, you and Harrington are fuck buddies. No declarations,” His eyes fall to your left hand, “No ring. Beyoncé would insist, sugar.”

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.

But not even your sixth sense could explain how you’d ended up catching the bouquet. Especially with a vodka and tonic in one hand and standing at the rear of the gaggle of gals gathered for the event. Didn’t even want to take part, far more interested in finding the coat check room and seeing how long it would take Steve to blow his load once you finally got your mouth on him.

So it’s a surprise, either luck or Nance’s killer aim, when her bouquet lands in your hand, the ribbon wrapped stems falling neatly into your palm just as you turn to shout something at Eddie behind you. Catching Steve’s knowing smirk and hearing Eddie’s piercing wolf-whistle, you give him an exaggerated wink before tossing back your drink.

It’s not long after that, a few more spins around the dance floor, some cake, and more liquor, tasteful toasts from you and Argyle, fond farewells to the newlyweds and bags thrown into cars for a quick getaway, that Steve tosses you— bouquet in hand, over his shoulder and dips out of there. Ignoring Eddie’s teasing of Irish exits and Irish twins, he sets you on your feet again to lean you against the car and kisses you positively stupid.

But it’s not a surprise when Steve finally asks you the question he’s been dying to for nearly the entire summer on the drive home, Nancy’s bouquet resting against the dash as you toe off your heels.

“Hey mind-reader, how long did it take?”

“Hmm?” Pleasantly sleepy from jet lag, your mind struggles to spark a fuse of comprehension. Steve raises a solitary brow in interest.

"Whaddya mean?" You mumble out between stifled yawns.

His hand rests on your leg while he drives, big and warm, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. Steve, bless him, won't press you on it, but he also wouldn't have asked something so casually for no reason. He's crafty like a fox when he wants to be.

You take a breath and let yourself really think about it. If you’re taking the question seriously, which you damn well should, he deserves an explanation. Hesitantly, you remind Steve of the near fiasco with the wedding dress back at your old place. He nods at your rambling, how guilty and scared you felt at shutting him out.

“So, yeah, between the moving-in playlist and me being bat-shit terrified of you seeing me in a wedding dress,” You summarize, fingers finding their way to his once more. The warm glow of the streetlights cast shafts of light through the windows. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, Steve Harrington," You conclude with a smirk.

His eyes widen in realization, “Oh, so that’s what you were apologizing for before left for Joshua Tree.” An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. “You’re so stupid.”

Back at the loft, fumbling hands in elevators lips spit slick and ruddied, Steve bats away your grabby hands with an exasperated huff as they light upon his chest. Nearly dropping his keys when they find a better way to occupy themselves.

Once inside, he presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collarbones and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs, kicking the door close, and instinctively pulling everything off.

He peels his shirt off and throws it onto the floor while you shimmy out of your dress. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the curve of your hips. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touches in months have jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you,” Steve calls teasingly. “First, how big did you think I was, y'know before? When you accused me of, how did you put it... harboring a fugitive?”

Your brain briefly short-circuits at that, mildly embarrassed. He laughs at your slow, owlish blinks while you formulate a response other than, "Well, I, uh..."

"Okay, okay," He drops a kiss to your brow, soothing your worries away, “Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.

His pants are shucked somewhere near the bedroom door. One of your hands goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

"S'been a while, do you think you can take it?”

“Oh,” A smirk quirks your lips, hand scrabbling for purchase on his tanned skin, “I think you know I can.”

Later, after frenzied forays in tangled sheets and revelling in the afterglow, you place your hand over his chest, selfishly counting his heartbeats.

You breathe, soft and sweet, “Steve,” the sound of your voice a warm balm in the inky dark. “Steve,” You say again and kiss his neck, turning toward you on the rumpled bed he kisses you, as if he could ever get enough.

“I love you.”

He pulls back, just enough so that you wrap your leg around his hips, sheet slipping off as his fingers trail up your thigh. Grazing the tip of his nose ever so lightly against your temple, you feel the rumble of laughter through his chest as it heaves against yours.

Rolls you onto your back, legs falling open to cradle his hips while he holds himself above you, hair falling into his face, “Took you long enough,” he grins, kissing you again. Your cheeks, your jaw, your chin. “I love you too, honey.”

His love is heavy and you delight in the gravity of it as he slips his way back inside, your hands pulling him closer than anyone can ever or will ever get again. It feels fated— the way your body moves and his responds in kind.

Steve only keens your name in reply.

Spun clear out of your body in the haze, pure joy erupts from your mouth, hands scrambling for him, so woozy and giddy you can’t help it.

So this is love, after all.

Finis.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #stranger things fan fiction #modern!steve #teacher!steve #the kids aren't alright - rosewateverandivy #Spotify

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arvensimp · 1 year

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*as if I’m ordering food at a drive thru* Can we get a fuckin uhhhhhhhhhh

Nsfw where Arven gets jealous of someone talking to y/n (fem or nb preferred!), so he does that whole passionate, steamy, borderline-rough “you’re mine” sex trope? 👉🏼👈🏼

You're lucky the jealous arven machine ain't broke lmaooo.

I was going to make this a pt 2 to green eyed tera type then I saw the nb/fem preferred. And... I was a little torn. I definitely am going to do a pt 2 to that drabble (someone else did already put that request in in my inbox as well!) I hope you don't mind if I give us a different person for Arven to get jealous about haha. I hope you don't mind if I do lean fem with this, too.

Different Kinda Jelly

Arven x fem!reader

Nsfw, vaginal sex, very slight dubcon themes (someone attempting a kiss and it becomes a cheek kiss), also some breeding kink? Sorry that's kinda where it ended up I hope you don't mind!!

So...you might be in a teensy bit of danger. Just a little bit. In a fun way!

But still danger.

It started with a request from La Primera to attend a tournament in Galar on her behalf. Basically you were supposed to represent rising talent and battling culture in Paldea, yadda yadda yadda. Super cool. Love it. Free trip to Galar!

You had a great time, honestly. You met some really great people and had a ton of fun battling and learning about new and different pokemon, even if there was often a language barrier.

The issue was because of a certain former top champion you met.

See, Leon was a charmer from the moment he greeted you in the lobby of the tournament's hotel with a gleaming smile and a delicious accent in broken Paldean. He'd told you how impressed he was with the videos he'd seen of your battles and how he looked forward to thoroughly thrashing you in front of everyone. He also offered to give you a tour of the area, as was apparently one of his duties as a native to the region.

Your agreement couldn't come fast enough, but the steadying hand on the small of your back as he spoke to you didn't hurt either.

The trouble got worse when you learned that apparently Leon was "pants with directions" and got the two of you lost several times the following day, leading to several public snafus with folks taking pictures of their beloved former champion and some mysterious foreigner at some of Galar's "hottest date destinations!"

The headlines were apparently terribly scandalous, but they were in a language you didn't particularly feel like translating.

However, Penny's a native Galarian and had no problem sharing with Nemona and Arven.

You spent 2 hours the following evening explaining the whole thing to Arven over the phone and how the whole thing was very clearly a misunderstanding, particularly on Leon's part. Nothing happened, and you were fully intending to beat the snot out of Leon in the competition the next day to make it up to Arven.

Then the next day came, and you met Leon on the pitch. You hadn't been able to see him before because of competition regulations or something, but when you met in the middle to shake hands, this man did a full bow and kissed your hand in front of the stadium and all the cameras.

Your face heated up, and you pulled your hand away as gracefully as you could while maintaining decorum for the public.

"Looking forward to our battle, love!" Boy, he got familiar with the pet names awfully fast.

"Looking forward to taking your charizard out of the sky!" You replied with a cheeky grin that hopefully came off as appropriately cocky for the crowds without causing scandal for your region.

In the end, your terastalized tinkaton was able to knock his lizard to the ground and pummel it, resulting in your victory.

You thought Leon might lose it for a moment, but it seemed like he'd only gotten better at dealing with defeat over time. When you met again in the center of the pitch, and you extended your hand, he took it...only to fully dip you for the crowds, causing them to gasp in surprise.

You yelped, and as he went in for a kiss for the cameras, you turned your face just in time, so that he planted one firmly on your cheek instead.

When he let you back to your feet, you both smiled and waved to the crowds before departing.

Backstage your phone had already blown up with texts from all of your friends, and you were already lamenting the roaming fees.

You called Arven first and he picked up before the first ring even finished.

"Are you kidding me?! Who does this guy think he is?"

"I'm about to go let him down. Officially, I guess? I didn't think this needed to happen. Something must have seriously been miscommunicated. I'm sorry you had to see that. Please please please believe me. I don't know what's going on in his head."

"Do you even understand how much this hurts me?"

"I don't. I couldn't, but I can imagine it, and I'm really sorry. I hope you saw how I was trying to avoid it all."

"...I guess..."

You heard a knock at the door to your locker room.

"Listen, Arven. I love you, and I'll be home soon, but I've got to go now. I'll call you back as soon as I can, okay?"

"'Kay. I love you, too."

You hung up and found Leon at the door waiting for you, leaning against the frame with arms crossed and a smile on his face.

"You really gave me a lashing out there, love. Good show!" He said as he made his way into the space.

"Uh....yeah..." You replied as you started to fiddle with the bottom of your jersey.

"So..." He spread out on the sofa like a purrloin.

"Leon...." You started. "What happened?" You asked in Galarian. "Outside?"

"On the pitch?" He gestured. "Just some fun! For the cameras! They love a love story, yeah? Those headlines were top news! It's great for the tournament, too. You're a bit shy though, yea? I'm sorry, love. I should've asked. Sorry." He at least had the decency to look properly sorry.

You frowned. "I...have a boyfriend. In Paldea."

Leon looked like he'd been smacked. "What?! Why didn't you say?"

You tilted your head to the side, trying to formulate a response, then typed one into a translation app on your phone which basically amounted to. "I didn't think it needed to be explained! You never asked?"

Leon at least had the decency to look sorry. He also pulled out a translation device when he realized his thoughts might be too complex for his simple Paldean. He apologized for not realizing that his actions could have been misconstrued the other day and then jumping the gun so publicly today. He genuinely seemed apologetic, so you accepted, on the condition that he also confirmed with Arven that you didn't do anything wrong.

So there in the locker room, you filmed former champion Leon apologizing to your boyfriend for attempting to kiss you on international television.

However, it seemed that all was not entirely forgiven. Galar's headlines forgot about you the moment you lost the tournament to some Kantonian named Red, but Arven?

Arven's a different story.

You're currently sitting on your bed, waiting for Arven to get back to your place, antsy with nerves. You know he's not actually mad because you know he knows you didn't do anything wrong.

But still. You feel bad to have been involved in him feeling bad. You love him.

That doesn't change the fact that you jump a bit when you hear the door open and Arven call your name.

"I-I'm upstairs!" You reply, your voice quivering.

He wastes no time making his way to the bedroom. You stand to give him a kiss, but he skillfully dodges you.

"Welcome back," He says with an even tone, but his eyes are dark.

"I really missed you..." You offer weakly.

"Oh, I know you did." He says, as he starts circling you, not unlike a veluza, almost predatory. "It seems you had a hard time being alone without me, didn't you?"

"Arven, you know I--"

Arven pulls you in close to him, gripping you by the waist and the back of the neck. "Would it have been better if I was there with you? Made sure to keep all those other guys away from my dearest treasure?"

"I-I..."

"I know you're a capable person and all... But you're just so...sweet..." His thumb at your neck rubs circles into the skin there. "Trusting... Maybe I should've tagged along. Kept them all away from you. Showed them who you belonged to, yeah?"

"O-Oh..." You feel your knees buckle a bit, but Arven's grip keeps you upright and secure. He can tell the effect this is having on you though because he smirks and leans in close to whisper hotly in your ear.

"Strip and get on the bed for me, will you?"

You do as you're told, with Arven watching you carefully. Only once you're dutifully in place does he also strip and move to straddle you.

"See here's the thing." Arven tells you as he leans in close, kissing along your neck and jawline. "I know you're a good girl."

The praise makes you whimper without even thinking.

"See?" He laughs softly, darkly. "Like that. I imagine all those other folks out there can tell that about you, too. They want to swoop in and steal you away from me..."

"N-No, Arven..." You whimper pathetically in protest.

"You wanna be with me, don't you, my sweetest?" He asks between hot, biting kisses along your collarbone while one of his hands snakes up to squeeze at your breasts.

"O-of course! Only you!" You reply, hooking a leg over his hips to draw him in closer to you.

Arven moves up to take your mouth in a searing kiss as he grinds his hardness against you. When he eventually moves away to pepper more bites along your neck, he mumbles into your skin. "Maybe I could mark you up...leave you with little marks all along this pretty neck... Show the world that you're mine. Would you like that?"

Your reply comes only as a pathetic whine and nod while your fingers thread through his soft hair.

"I'll take that as a yes then..." Arven replies with a soft chuckle.

As he starts working on dotting your clavicle with hickies, one of his hands goes to unhook your leg from his hips, letting your knees splay open. His fingers deftly move to the growing wetness between your thighs.

"Hmm... Already soaked like this?" He tuts in faux mocking. "Such a needy thing... Guess I have no choice but to take care of you."

You wantonly grind against his fingers as his thumb works glorious circles around your clit, bringing you to a stunning completion in a matter of about a minute that has your thighs quaking while you chant his name like a mantra.

"That's right, sweet thing... You know who you belong to, don't you..." He murmurs, gathering wetness from your folds to lube up his cock. "You're mine." He says as he thrusts into you in one fluid motion that has you choking on an inhalation. It's a little rough, but nothing he knows you're not already comfortable with. It's the same with the pace he sets as he fucks into you.

You do your best to match his thrusts from below, but when he catches on to your movement he pauses. "Ah, ah, ah... Not this time." He says before hefting your knees over his shoulders. The new angle makes for a rougher fuck that hits the most delicious places inside of you.

"I wanna fuck you so hard you never even think of another man. You hear me?"

"Y-yeah..."

"Yeah?" His hips stutter a bit. "You like that?" You nod because you know if you open your mouth the only thing to come out would be stupid moans.

"Good. I'm gonna keep fucking you like this. Make sure all the world knows you're mine. F-fuck... Maybe if I knock you up, everyone else'll get the h-hint!"

That was new. Not something expected or discussed prior, but it did something to you, and Arven clearly noticed.

"Holy f-fuck, that got a rise out of you, didn't it? You got so much, nngh, tighter...Sh-shit.... I'm close. Just...." It only takes a few more thrusts before he cums hard and deep inside you. A moment later, he's let your legs go, and then he's collapsed onto the bed beside you.

"Uh... Sorry for the roughness." He pants. "And, uh, the other thing."

Still entirely blissed out, you look back at him. "Hm? It's okay... I dunno... Maybe I should go to other regions more often..."

#arven fanfic #arven x female reader #arven x reader

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dark-frosted-heart · 4 months

Text

My Beloved Villain Who Swept Me Away - Roger Barel

As usual can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Male customer: Two beers and…any food you recommend?

Kate: How about a cottage pie? Fresh out of the oven.

Male customer: Then I’ll take two

Kate: Got it, coming right up!

I take the order to the counter. Meanwhile, business is booming as customers keep coming.

(Today’s December 31st. Since it’s the night of the last day of the year, a lot of people are going out to drink and ring in the new year)

While thinking about it, I was about to serve some new customers when—

Roger: Little lady…?

—I bumped into Roger who just entered the tavern.

Kate: Welcome, Roger.

Roger: Welcome…Did you quit being a fairy tale writer and get a job at a tavern?

Kate: No, I didn’t quit. I’m just working here for the day.

~~ Flashback ~~

It happened in the afternoon as I was on my way back from a mission after parting ways with Alfons and Elbert.

I saw a thin man getting beaten up near a bar.

(Hey, stop it…! Is there anyone around to help…)

I looked around, but everyone who passed turned a blind eye and continued on their way.

(The police are too far…I’ll have to intervene…!)

Kate: Hold it! Why are you doing this? He’s not even resisting…

Bartender: It’s his fault. He didn’t have any money but ordered all the pricey food and drinks.

(Meaning he tried to dine and dash? But to resort to violence…)

Skinny man: …

While the bartender and I were talking, the man took the chance to run off and disappear into the crowd.

Bartender: Ah, damn it! He ran away! It’s all because of you…

Kate: S-sorry…

Bartender: No use apologizing… Right, that’s it, you’ll work in his place to pay back all he ate and drank.

~~ End flashback ~~

Kate: …So I had to work to make up for all the food and drink the guy had without paying.

Roger: That sucks to hear. But also, didn’t somethin’ like this happen to you before you joined Crown?

Kate: Now that you mention it…yeah.

Roger: Human habits never change…Well, good luck.

Roger patted my head as if he was praising his pet dog.

After talking with Roger, I was busy with customers after customers.

As midnight approached, I thought I’d have time to take a break as things started to calm down, but then, one by one, customers started to offer me a drink.

(I can’t refuse if they’re buying me a drink…)

As I continued to drink what was served to me, I was getting tipsy and my thoughts gradually became fuzzy.

(I need to get it together, I’m still in the middle of working…)

As I continued serving the customers while keeping myself motivated, a male customer put money down before me.

Male customer with a protruding belly: -buy you. Is this enough?

(...? My head’s cloudy. What did he say…)

(If he’s handing me money…Is he paying his bill…?)

I nodded and was going to take his money.

—But then an arm around pulled me away

Kate: Ro…ger…?

Roger: Sorry. I had my eye on this one for a while now. Not gonna hand her over.

As he said that to the customer, Roger put more than twice the amount of money on the table.

(Had his eye…What is he talking…)

Male customer with a protruding belly: Isn’t it first come, first serve?

Roger: Not if you pay more? Besides…You should feel ashamed for trying to buy such a fine woman with that measly amount, don’t you think?

Roger glanced at the money the man put down and smirked as he said “measly”.

Male customer with a protruding belly: …Don’t fuck with me!

The customer, face flushed with anger, raises his fist at Roger.

However, Roger nonchalantly dodged the fist with ease.

Roger: Oops, that was dangerous. Well, can’t blame me for defendin’ myself then. Little lady, take care of this for me.

Roger handed me his glasses.

Roger: My vision’s blurry and I can’t make out the little lady’s face clearly, but… It’s risky to wear glasses when you’re about to get in a fight.

(Huh…? Fight? Why’re you starting a fight…?)

I tried to stop Roger, but I was too drunk and unsteady to do anything.

On top of that, the other customers in the tavern were getting rowdy because of the fight, livening up the place.

(At least…I hop Roger doesn’t get seriously injured)

That’s what I wished for with my blurred consciousness as I held onto his glasses.

–

Kate: Nn…

Jolting movement woke me up and I found myself being carried in Roger’s arms.

I was greeted by Roger without his glasses up close and my eyes widened unconsciously.

Roger: Mornin’ little lady. Was it comfortable sleeping in my arms? Also…I’d appreciate it if you gave back what’s in your hands soon.

That’s when I realized that I’d been holding onto Roger’s glasses this whole time.

Kate: S-sorry…

I wiped his lenses with a handkerchief and returned his glasses. He accepted it with his arms down.

Kate: Um…by the way, why am I here…? I was working at the tavern for the day…

Roger: You got drunk and passed out. Couldn’t work anymore so I brought you here. And…did you know that at night, the women who work at the tavern sell their bodies?

Kate: Huh?! I didn’t know… Ah…! Then, when that customer wanted to give me money, he wanted to buy me?!

Roger: Yep. Right after gettin’ you drunk and impaired. The tavern gets a cut so even if they don’t know what’s going on, no one’s gonna stop it.

Kate: You saved me, Roger…Thank you so much.

If it weren’t for Roger, I would’ve been bought by a complete stranger. I shuddered at the thought.

Roger: Haha, saved you? Do I look like a good guy to you, little lady? According to the rules, I bought you for a day.

For you, who you spend the night with switched from that guy to me.

Kate: Huh…

Roger: You’re mine ‘til the date changes… So, what should we do? I know a lot of places to rest around here.

Kate: W-wait a minute, Roger! I’ll pay you back! So…

Roger: Want me to let you go? Don’t wanna. I’m not the kind of guy to change my mind once it’s set on something. I’ve earned the right to do what I want with you so why’d I let you go?

Kate: …You don’t have to do this…you always do whatever you want anyway!

Roger: That’s not a nice thing to say. You make me sound like a bad guy.

Kate: I mean it…

Roger: Harsh. It’s usually just a kiss (greeting), isn’t it? So I thought we’d go a little further today.

Ah, the year’s almost over.

Kate: Is it that time already…?

Roger: Can’t you hear from her? People are counting down everywhere.

(That’s right. Roger’s cursed ability lets him hear sounds from far away…)

Kate: You got a nice countdown, Roger…

Roger: You wanna do it too, little lady? Then you’ll have to do it with me.

Kate: Eh…

Roger: Come on, we’re running out of time. 10, 9, 8, 7…

Roger started counting down and I hurriedly joined in.

Roger and Kate: 6, 5, 4…

(Ah-)

With three seconds to go, Roger put his hand on my cheek.

Based on previous experience, it was obvious what he was going to do and I had time to run away. However-

Roger: 3, 2, 1…

The moment the countdown ended, I stayed still and our lips pressed together.

(Until the date changes…I can’t turn Roger down because he bought me)

(That’s it…so…)

Before long, our lips parted with the sound of the loudest fireworks ringing in the new year.

Roger: Happy New Year, little lady. Have a great year, won’t you…?

Kate: You too…

It was frustrating to see Roger smile as if the kiss was nothing.

To Roger, a kiss was just a greeting, but to me, it was something much more special.

Roger: So, are you gonna let me touch you more? Or not?

Kate: The date’s changed so you can’t do whatever you want anymore!

Roger: Damn, you’re pretty headstrong, little lady. I spent a lot on you.

Roger’s hand lets go of my chin with that snide remark.

(They say that “actions speak louder than words”)

(He plays with me, but I don’t think Roger actually has any sort of attachment to me…)

The moment I thought that, I felt a pain spread in my chest. From anger at being played with…probably.

Roger: Well, that’s fine. You’ll stay like that the whole year too. The more defiant and competitive you are, the more I get to discipline you.

Kate: There’s no need for disciplining…!

Whenever I’m with him, I’m always the one getting pushed around.

(This year…I’d like to leave at least a little mark on Roger’s heart)

#ikemen villains #ikevil translations #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil summary #ikevil #ikevil jp

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alicent-vi-britannia · 8 months

Text

12 characters, 12 story arcs, 1 theme

A few days ago, I tried to synthesize in a single word the narrative arcs of the Code Geass characters (at least, the ones I know they have) with the intention of extracting the theme of each one. I will briefly explain my conclusions. Or, put another way, what each theme means for each character. I'll leave Lelouch for last because he's the main character and his theme is supposed to be that of the series. We go from bottom to top.

Self-fidelity / Milly: "the girl who learned to be in touch with her own desires and chose to be true to herself to bring out her best version." I think the phrase explains it perfectly. Milly found happiness and she became more mature once she decided to stop serving her family's wishes and focus on herself and what she wanted to be and do.

Confidence / Ohgi: "the man who learned to trust himself to become the leader his organization and his country needed." Ohgi's arc is inspiring, if you take off your toxic fandom glasses and take his journey seriously. It is true that he made certain mistakes, but he always thought of the welfare of his people and his comrades. That was his main motivation and what led him to overcome his personal insecurities. I was going to make a comparison, but you guys won't like it and you'll attack me.

Happiness / Euphemia: "the girl who dreamed of a world in which all people were happy." This is the only arc that was cut short and did not come to fruition for reasons that I don't need to detail. Euphemia was a selfless princess without a purpose until she met her brother again and wanted to restore happiness to him, Nunnally and the rest of the Japanese.

Truth / Nunnally: "the girl who had to discover the truth to grow up to become the empress who could rebuild a new Britannia." She is literally blind and cannot see the world as it is, but as it should be (hence her idealism). She also can't see through her brother's and her friend's lies, until her determination and her circumstances push her to do so. It doesn't seem strange to me that the breaking of the seal coincides with the moment in which she learns the truth and decides to face it.

Justice / Nina: "the girl who had to seek justice for the murder of her beloved and her own acts and thus be a better person." Nina's arc is a revenge arc. Obviously. But the anime gives it a negative treatment, as Nina only gets worse with each new chapter. It's not until she understands all the destruction that her revenge can cause (in a literal sense) that she stops and reconsiders. The Zero Requiem gives Nina the opportunity to redeem herself and give justice to her beloved since the culprit pays for her crime. It's at this point that she begins to heal.

Honor / Jeremiah: "the man who managed to win back his honor after offering his loyalty to his enemy." The entire arc of Jeremiah revolved around honor. He believed that he had failed his empress and his prince, made a fool of himself on a live broadcast, was demoted and fell to the bottom. From there, he only lived to seek revenge. But then again, it wasn't the way. He only redeemed himself by putting himself at the service of a lord worthy of his loyalty: his enemy.

Humanity / Rolo: "the murder weapon that regained humanity from him through love." Another phrase that explains itself. Rolo had been used and manipulated his entire life as a tool. But when he created good memories and a sincere bond with Lelouch, he started to make decisions, think and feel like a human being.

Forgiveness / Shirley: "the girl who learned to forgive thanks to love." We find another arc of revenge. Like Nina, Jeremiah, Suzaku, and Lelouch, Shirley lost someone important to her, was overcome with grief and rage, and was tempted by revenge until she discovered that the killer was the man she loved. In the end, her noble feelings prevail and her love gives her the strength she needs to forgive.

Freedom / Kallen: "the girl who embraced her freedom became a hero who fought to liberate her country and the world." This is going to sound strange, but I barely realized that Kallen is who she is because she is free due to a fanfic that featured an anti-Kallen who was in many ways trapped. Kallen is a free spirit and performs as an autonomous individual. She chooses the friends she wants (be it Britannian or Japanese), she loves the man she wants, she champions the cause she wants, she has the value system she wants. However, there can be no freedom without equality, and Kallen and her people live in a society that promotes inequality. The freedom of some (the Britannians) cannot coerce that of others (the Japanese and even half-blood like her). So Kallen works to change the world to a place where everyone has full freedom. That's her motivation to grow up and become the hero her people and the world need.

Love / CC: "the girl who only until she received love from others was able to love herself." CC's arc ties directly to Lelouch's because they both express a nihilistic philosophy. In short, CC wishes to end herself and the world (through the Ragnarök Connection) because she considers her immortal existence to be meaningless and thus unimportant. Worse still, an immortal life implies eternal pain. Something she can't live with. But she wants to be loved, because all human beings cannot live without love. It is in the nature of the human being to give and receive love. Therefore, love will always prevail in the darkest moments. So, when Lelouch offers his affection to CC, she becomes more human and renews her will to live (see how her arc connects to Rolo's arc). Let's say that she transitions from a negative nihilism to an agathonism (that philosophy that it proposes that you have to enjoy life and help to live a pleasant life).

Peace / Suzaku: "the boy who was able to find peace of mind by creating a peaceful world." Without going any further, the lever that moves Suzaku throughout the series is "guilt". Suzaku feels guilty that he killed his father, he feels guilty that the Japanese are oppressed by the Britannians, he feels guilty that he failed Euphemia in his duty as a knight, he feels guilty that he can't protect everyone… Guilt, guilt, guilt. What is the opposite of guilt? We may all think of different things, but I'm leaving for peace because Suzaku didn't make peace with himself until he got the punishment from him and when did that happen? When he made sure to create a new world with Lelouch with the Zero Requiem, in which all his loved ones could live. No wars, no racism, no terrorism, no hate. In peace.

Will / Lelouch: "the boy who twisted the will of others found the value of the will of the human being and began to dream of tomorrow." It's very ironic. Lelouch's Geass is described as the power capable of bending the wills of others to the mercy of his own. As he progresses on his journey and interacts with other characters, he realizes that human beings actively seek happiness and persist despite adversity. They doesn't give up when they falls, but gets up and continues to fight. That is what it is to be human. Arthur Schopenhauer, in fact, said that the will was the essence of the human being. But I think that the approach of Lelouch and Code Geass goes more for nihilism in its most positive aspect. The one who proposes the destruction of everything to establish new values that allow the übermensch to live in freedom. "Emperor Charles searched for the past, you search for the present. But I search for the future. […]. Because no matter how much time passes, people will continue to search for happiness. People who struggle with sadness, those who seek the future. How everyone keeps wishing for happiness. Human nature is the reason I chose Geass and wearing a mask." This is the key to human survival. This is the meaning of life and what this series wants to teach you.

If you start to examine each of the arcs, you will see that they are all connected in one way or another (after all, they are concepts that appeal to the human condition). And, if you reflect carefully, you'll realize that the arcs of our two main heroes (Lelouch and Suzaku) correlate with the extremist views of Charles and Schneizel respectively (this was something I was planning to address in a discussion on CG antagonistic figures).

I hope you have learned something or found something interesting in this post. If you liked it, don't forget to support me with a comment and/or a reaction. I would really appreciate it as that will help the algorithm.

PS: Don't ask me to come up with an exhaustive analysis of the philosophies raised in this series. Although it may not seem like it, I have a hard time handling philosophy (I don't mind going overboard like I did here).

#kallen kozuki #kallen stadtfeld #code geass: lelouch of the rebellion #lelouch lamperouge #code geass #kallen #lelouch #suzaku kururugi #lelouch vi britannia #code geass: hangyaku no lelouch #euphemia li britannia #c.c. (code geass)#rolo lamperouge #ohgi kaname #shirley fenette #nunnally vi britannia #nunnally lamperouge #nina einstein #jeremiah gottwald

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devondespresso · 1 month

Text

Mr. Crayola Henderson

T | 1791 words | ao3 link | cw: minor ableism from a side character, also they swear, I always forget f-bombs bother some people sorry guys | STWG Prompt: Telling a story to get out of trouble

EDIT: I NEARLY FORGOT thank you @pearynice my beloved for the brainstorming GENIUS and @hairstevington for the sensitivity read! You guys are awesome!! Also thank you @saradika-graphics for making free dividers!!

((little bit of context for extra clarity: this universe is vaguely canon divergent, post season 2. Steve is hoh (hard of hearing) and already adopted by the Hendersons, and in this one they're in the middle of a sort of family reunion/gathering))

Steve went to duck inside the house, holding the door open for Aunt Tracy on her way back out into the backyard where the majority of the gathering was taking place. She smiled and said something, probably just a thank you that he would’ve heard if the batteries in his hearing aids hadn’t died. He smiled back at her and gestured to his ear and she nodded again with a smile that did its best to not be patronizing.

She left and Steve went inside, sighing a little and tried to not hold it against her, the lack of filter seemed to run in the family, but it was moments like that that made him grateful his mom was the most laid-back of the Henderson women.

Steve went over to the media room and dug through the little bin of batteries under the phone, pulling out an opened pack that had just enough left. He took both aids off, changed the batteries, and put them back on to make sure they worked.

He heard a strong thud from his bedroom, followed by muttering.

Steve put the dead batteries down on top of the table and stared at his bedroom door. The muttering escalated to hushed bickering.

Steve walked closer to the door, hearing the bickering more clearly, then opened the door.

Dustin and their cousin Aiden both jumped and turned to look at the door, Dustin relaxing when he saw it was him. Steve paused for a second, looking at both of them crouched on the ground, bright pink paint on their hand and clothes and the carpet around them with no bottle in sight.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Dustin.

“We were just… snooping through your shit. ” Dustin said.

Steve glanced back down at the paint everywhere, and gave him a look.

Dustin just smiled like a little angel, which worked on mom and maybe Steve-from-two-years-ago, but not now.

“Oh no, you found my secret stash of… bubblegum pink paint.” he deadpanned.

“The cheap kiddy bubblegum pink paint.” Dustin corrected, looking down at the carpet. “It’ll wash out.”

“Of course.” He looked over to Aiden, who had relaxed significantly as he realized Steve wasn’t going to blow up on them. “And… why is there totally washable pink paint in my room specifically? Weren’t you guys sticking to dicking around outside to avoid doing stuff like this?”

Aiden opened his mouth to give a better excuse, but Dustin started tapping his shoulder excessively to get his attention.

“He’d help us.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, not arguing because odds were good he’d end up doing something, but he still played it up like he wasn’t already planning to.

Aiden was turned mostly towards Dustin and muttered something he couldn’t catch, throwing a glance at Steve.

“Trust me, this is like a walk in the park compared to–” Dustin said.

“Hardly a fair comparison, man.” Steve interrupted.

“–compared to the other shit he’s helped me with.”

Aiden thought about it, then glanced towards Steve. “And he's not going to jump ship afterwards and get us in trouble?”

“Of course not, right Steve?”

Steve looked at the two of them and ran a hand over his face.

“You know step one of not getting in trouble for stupid shit is not starting stupid shit, right?”

Aiden groaned but Dustin agreed immediately, “Yes, 100% understood.”

Dustin elbowed Aiden, and he nodded despite his clear annoyance.

Dustin smiled and looked at Steve.

He rubbed his temple one last time before throwing his hand down.

“Okay. Step two then.”

Dustin jumped up and shot him a thanks before running around him towards the kitchen. Steve watched him go then turned back to Aiden who looked just as confused.

“What’s he doing?”

“I don't know.” Aiden lied, looking at him curiously, “What's step two?”

“Find me and let me finish the stupid shit.”

“Huh.”

Dustin came running back with a slice of deli-meat in one hand.

“Dustin, this isn’t looking much better than last time.”

Dustin paused his mad dash for just a second to look at him.

“It’s significantly better, I swear.” he said, then ran to sit back down, dropping the slice of meat on the floor in front of him, and waited.

After a few seconds of nothing, a fuzzy little white face poked out from under his bed. Cautiously, a opossum with pink paint splashed on its back came waddling out. It sniffed at the food given to him, nibbled at it, then opened its mouth as wide as it could to awkwardly chomp at its new snack.

It was a wild animal, Dustin brought in a wild animal inside, during a family gathering with some of the most worry-wart mothers he’s ever met–

But god, the tiny opossum was really fucking cute.

Dustin beamed at the little guy like a proud mom, then up at Steve. Steve shook his head in disbelief and joined them carefully around the opossum. He picked up the deli meat and placing it on his hand to get the little guy used to it.

“You’re crazy, Henderson, you’re fucking crazy.” He grumbled, playing up annoyance to avoid losing his better judgment.

Dustin said something probably cheeky as hell, but he didn’t catch it.

“One more time.” he said, looking away from the opossum for just a second.

“And what does that make you, Henderson?” Dustin smiled, definitely cheeky.

“Reluctantly, also fucking crazy.” he sighed, shaking his head before moving the deli meat further up his hand to lead little Mr. Opossum onto it.

He lifted Opossum gently, letting it have the rest of the deli meat so he could use two hands to hold it steady. He stood up slowly, and started walking towards the bathroom.

Dustin and Aiden went around him to get the door, lights, and sink ready– apparently, to continue where they left off. There were pink handprints around the edge of the sink and a bottle of dish soap sat next to the hand soap.

“Wow, I wonder what happened here.” Steve deadpanned. He looked over at the both of them, not a hint of guilt in their eyes. “And this is why there aren’t two Dustin Hendersons.” he bitched with no real anger, and set Mr. Opossum down gently in the sink.

“You mean this is why there aren’t two Aiden Haults.” Aiden said, leaning over the sink.

“Nope, Dustin gets the credit for this one.”

Steve closed the drain to make a pool of water and Opossum gravitated to it immediately, taking a drink before waddling into the pool and almost rolling in the water to get his fur wet.

Steve tried and failed to bite back a smile.

“His name is Sir Crayolan.” Dustin said.

Steve had no choice but to bark out a laugh.

“Sir what?”

“Sir Crayolan.”

“Oh god, I heard you correctly.”

“It’s a great name!”

“You know Sir Crayolan isn't staying, right?”

“Yeah, we were gonna let him go after we washed him, we just–”

Aiden muttered something and tugged on his sleeve, pointing out the bathroom doorway towards the back door.

Just out of the window, Aunt Tracy was caught in conversation with someone, looking like she was laughing, but clearly stopped just before she was going to come inside. Steve quickly rinsed some of the minimal paint on his fingers, careful not to scare Mr. Crayola or whatever.

“Does she know you’re in here?”

“No, we hid in your room–”

“Good, you guys wash him, carefully and quietly, I’ve got the rest.” He whispered, wiping his hands off on a towel.

“You’re the best, Steve.” Dustin said, giving him a quick side hug to avoid getting paint on him.

“Oh really? I’m gonna need that in writing.” He smiled and Dustin stuck out his tongue. Steve returned the gesture and slipped out of the bathroom, straight across the hall and into his bedroom.

He turned off the lights immediately to hide the pink mess on his floor and waited to hear the front door.

He heard Aunt Tracy’s laughing rather than the actual door open, heard her wave off whoever it was she was talking to through the door. He took one hearing aid off before he walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. He made his way back to the abandoned dead batteries and put his aid back on, messing with it a little longer than strictly necessary.

“Oh, Steve, there you are. Everything okay?” she said, joining him by the tv room.

“Yeah, just had to find batteries. What’s up?”

“Oh yes, well– now, I know I could be overreacting, but I haven’t seen Aiden anywhere for– oh, for god knows how long–”

“He was with Dustin earlier–”

“I know, I know, but they were near those woods weren’t they? And you know there were those missing kids stories–”

“Trust me, I know.” he said, dropping the dead batteries into their battery jar. “I can help you search for them if you want, but I don’t think Dustin’s ever gotten lost. He carries around a compass like it's his wallet. Worst case scenario? They’re messing around in the woods somewhere a little too far away and they’ll come running back once they realize we started eating hotdogs without them.”

“God, you know Claudia said the same thing, I just worry…”

“Ron just lit the grill, right? Let’s give them twenty minutes,” he checked his watch, “Until five… five fifteen-ish. If nobody sees them, I’ll help you look.”

“Twenty minutes, alright, I’ll tell Claudia.” She said, and circled back to the door.

“I’ll join you guys in a second, I’m grabbing a coke.” he called, jutting a thumb back towards the kitchen.

She called something back with a wave and Steve just waved back until she disappeared out the door. He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a cold can for himself and a diet pepsi for mom, then circled back to the bathroom.

He checked over his shoulder once real quick before tapping on the door and opening his coke.

Aiden answered the door, cracking it open just enough to stand in the doorway.

“You got all that, yeah?”

“Twenty minutes, we’ve been exploring in the woods.”

“Yup. Release your critter out the front door and circle around. I am not joining a search party for you guys today.”

Aiden nodded and gave him an overserious salute. Steve threw a more casual one back.

“Tell Mr. Crayola I said ‘bye’.” he said, then turned around to leave as Dustin came to the opossum’s defense. He hid his smile by taking a sip of his coke, and went back out the door.

(obligatory disclaimer uhhh dont pick up wild opossums please ok thanks guys love ya)

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #steve and dustin #hoh steve harrington #hoh!steve #hoh!steve harrington #steve henderson au #been a while since ive used that tag straight up hfdklashfhdl #ive kinda recently realized that my steve henderson au's like. origin-story part? was spanning a lot longer than i thought #and odds are i wont be able to exhaust every possible shenanigan these brothers could get in to #so starts the not-really-the-same-universe-but-like-also-kinda-close steve henderson au hfsdjklafhdkl #stwgdailyprompt

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wonsohl · 8 months

Note

hii do you think you cld write abt gunwook ? maybe smth like popular!gunwook and shy!reader in a school setting

also, i rlly enjoyed ur yujin imagines! they're so adorable

omg! ofcc , recently gunwook has been biasing me lately after kcon 😭😭! thank you for the compliment abt my yujin imaginess <3 ! tbh i didn't know how succesful it would bee

young love 🫂 - p.gw

PAIRINGS: popular!gw + shy!freader

it was winter. your favourite time of the year - not just because it was the season of your birthday but because you loved christmas and the traditions of the mistletoe at school.

your school recently (by recently you mean 4 years ago) started this thing were they would leave mistletoes around school.

at first it was very controversial but they made it rule that you don't have to partake in the tradition if you didn't want to.

most people didn't because half of the boys in your school were ugly and smelt like canned fish.

however if they did wanna kiss someone, it would've been the f9.

f9? basically the most handsome, jaw-dropping, extravagant, elegant, heart-beating boys ever to be seen.

you had the 3seniorz - aka : sung hanbin & zhanghao from class one with kim jiwoong in class two

then you had the musicianz - aka : seok matthew & kim taerae from class one

and then finally the coocooz - aka : shen ricky, kim gyuvin , han yujin and your beloved park gunwook.

pretty much every sane girl in your school had a crush on them because who wouldnt?

the f9s pretty much run the school, if they ask someone to do something they would.

one time ricky asked a girl a year above him to buy him something from the school store, she bought the whole store for him.

another time taerae asked a girl to get his guitar from the music room, she got his guitar with the rest of the music room on her back.

so you could tell that these boys had every girl wrapped around their fingers ,

including you.

but no one knew of course.

you barely talked in lesson and never raised your hand and on top of that you sat the middle row in lessons and would always leave a sticky note on the teacher's desk ever day to remind her that you were in so she didn't need to call out your name.

and thats how you lived for pretty much all 3 years of highschool until today.

you made your way to your homeroom with your headphones in and got a sticky note from your bag to put it on the teacher's desk and plotted your bag on your chair.

whilst returning to your chair, you realised that someone must of forgotten their cleaning duty yesterday and forgot to clean your desk.

their was pen marks everywhere and gum under the table.

you sighed heavily, but too heavily so no one else knew your dissapointment. you were about to go to the toilet to get some tissue when your phone started ringing.

it was inhee your bestfriend

'Y/N!!' said inhee through her phone speaker ruining your eardrums forgetting that you were on speaker everyone in your class looks at you.

you smile back awkwardly and dash out the class room.

'omg inhee! you dont need to shout my name at 8:03 am in the morningg" you said complaing about your friends behaviour

'oh im sorry miss l/n but apprently seola from our class got a mistletoe with ricky! '

' WHAT?? damm she's so lucky! '

' I KNOW RIGHTT THAT'S WHAT I WAS SAYINGG ' says inhee and then for the next five minutes of your call inhee was complaining about how it should've been her instead of seola.

'ME AND RICKY HAVE FIRE AND WATER SIGNS WE ARE LITCH SOULMATES'

'okok i get your pointt~. it's not that deep its only a kiss he probably doesn't feel anything for her anyway.

'after all he is a player but that doesn't mean anything! i have been waiting for my first kiss to be ricky just to be knocked off by son seola who is a complete copy of me :>'

'inhee its just a one time thing, you can make a move to him on the last day of school or something'

'ONE TIME THING?'

she said again, at this point you thought she was intentionally trying to publicly embarrass you infront of everyone as well as make you deaf.

'inhee enough with this yelling over a boy! its not even past 9 am yett'

'well this boy is my lifeline, soulmate, couple, future hubby, fiance he is like my everything! he means the whole world to me just like gunwook means to you silly!'

gunwook. gun wook . park gunwook.

you loved his name.

you loved they way he talked .

you love his visuals.

most of all you loved his smile.

'yeah but gunwook is different - first of all he is not rich and spoilt , second of all he is classprezz and is not a player'

' okay but imagine if you got a mistletoe with him! like that would be so cute!'

'with who? gunwook' you scoff at her words.

'gunwook is way out of my league, i would never get mistletoe with him and that's how i like it and i wanna keep it that way for th-'

your phone fell out of your hand skidding across the marble floor of your school hallway.

you pick your self up and run to get it but another hand it there before you.

you look up to see gunwook.

'oh my god' you thought.

eugh this was so cliche for this to happen.

but even through those thoughts, you and him still kept eye contact

'ay gunwook did you get the homework for-

OMG YOU GOT A MISTLETOEE'

you look behind gunwook's broad shoulders to see his friend gyuvin running towards him whilst pointing up towards the ceiling.

and follow his fingers to see the mistletoe right above your head with you and gunwook

'BRO YOU GOTTA GIVE HER A KISS - A RICKY COME HERE GUNWOOK GOT A MISTLETOE'

'GUNWOOK HAS TO GIVE HER A KISSY WISSY OOOO~'

you look back to gunwook eyes as he meets you with an awkward smile after he elbowed gyuvin in his ribcage.

'you don't have to kiss me! it's j-just a tradition' you say excusing yourself slowly.

then all of a sudden gunwook holds you by your shoulder and mouths sorry before pulling you in for a kiss.

your lips clash onto eachother as you close your eyes not knowing how to react and slowly losen up to his touch.

those seconds then feel like minutes which feel like hours the kiss breaks up and you suddenly realise where you are.

you look around to see a whole entire crowd has formed around you two with phones everywhere.

you obviously freak out and gunwook being the man he is he drags you through the crowd and brings you too your class.

'thank you' you say smiling back with a bow

he laughs abit which make you feel embarrassed but he reassures you.

'it's ok, you looked so cute when you tried leave because i knew you liked me' he says giggling with his dimples showing.

your cheeks instantly flush and laugh back.

the bell rings meaning you have to go back to your seat and gunwook looks at his watch.

'ill get going now but if you want i can take you out for some ice cream later'

you nod back with a smile going back to your seat whilst inhee runs through your homeroom door slamming it against the wall.

'y/n. tell. me. everything.'

#zerobaseone #boys planet 999 #park gunwook #gunwook imagines #zerobaseonefics #zb1 scenarios #zb1 imagines

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natto-nel · 1 year

Text

Waking up with Kaveh (ft. Mehrak)🌻

Summary: waking up to Kaveh and braiding his hair a bit (ft. Mehrak beloved)

Themes: gn!reader, whole fluff and lots of kisses too

Word count: 680

You flicked your eyes open to see the bright sunshine penetrating your eyes. You instinctively brought a hand over your face and flopped to your side, finding a familiar sight of another sun. Your eyes trailed through Kaveh’s flowy golden locks, brushed against the edges of his pillow of your shared bed.

You brushed your hand on his cheeks, removing the stray strands on his face while wondering how his face was so soft. I should try his beauty products.

Kaveh let out a lazy groan as he squinted at your expression. He moved a hand to your wrist and guided it towards his cheek, nuzzling it,

“Morning, flower.” He greeted you with a sweet smile, complimenting the rest of his features.

Kaveh then moved your hand to the top of his head and gilded it down his hair, gesturing you to brush it.

This had reminded you how much Kaveh loved it when you played with his hair, trying every kind of hairstyles which all seemed to fit him somehow. You remembered how cocky Kaveh got when you did his hair, showing it off to everyone who passes him.

And of course as he wished, you ran your fingers through his hair, dividing it into three smaller locks before putting one on another making a braid. A little giggle left your beloved’s mouth, adorable like a child as you moved to another strand.

After finishing a few braids, you parted his bangs, lovingly kissing his forehead you rarely see because of how long his bangs were. Kaveh grumbled and squirmed disgruntledly as you continued kissing his forehead,

“Stop kissing me…” A blush creeped to his delicate cheeks. His hand abruptly grabbed your wrist and another went around your nape. Before you knew it, you felt lips on yours as Kaveh had pushed your faces together. He melted into the kiss and leaned more.

Kaveh started giggling in between breaths and finally let out a big laugh while sinking you into his arms, suffocating but warm,

“How can I kiss you, if you keep kissing me.” His loud laugh reverberated around the room,

“Then I’ll simply kiss you somewhere you can also kiss me.” You shoved your head into his chest, leaving a peck on his cleavage teasingly which he squirmed aggressively to.

He pushed you away by your shoulders, face flushed red like his cloak. You held your laugh looking at his flustered face as he stared back at you.

Kaveh briefly observed the smile slowly appearing on your face before nuzzling his head onto the crook of your neck, making you laugh from his ticklish breath. He couldn’t help but laugh when he heard you.

Suddenly a noise of something falling was heard from the door. Both of you sat up immediately to see what it was but you were blocked by Kaveh's taller figure. You peeked from his side only to see Mehrak floating in shock and guilt. She slowly backed away, assuming the two of you were busy,

“Mehrak, come here, it’s okay.” You gestured for her to come.

She puts up an anxious face before floating in your direction. As she got closer, you pulled her into a hug, rubbing her non-existent hair on top completely ignoring that she was a suitcase. A pixelated blush appeared on her face as she snuggled into your arms, her edges poking them but it was fine. Other than giving affection to your boyfriend, you loved giving affection to Mehrak too, as if she was you and Kaveh’s daughter.

Mehrak let out a sound similar to those of a notification bell letting Kaveh know something. A clock appeared on her face telling Kaveh that it was time to get prepared. Kaveh let out a long groan, still wanting to cuddle with you longer which Mehrak shooked to.

Kaveh sighed annoyedly that he had to go do work since most of his projects were due. He looked at you pitifully, twirling the messy braids you made,

“Can you do my hair first?”

Thank you sm for reading it! Also letting you know that requests are open too if you have any

(Note: as a Kaveh fan, yes we want to touch em titties)

#genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin imagines #kaveh #kaveh fluff #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you

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sapphic-agent · 7 months

Text

Let's Talk About the Sports Festival

*Note: this is a long one so strap in*

Oh boy, here we go.

I did touch briefly on this in my first ever post on here and I mentioned it a few other times. But I've got a few thoughts and I think this arc deserves a little exploration as it plays a crucial part in setting up our characters for the rest of the series.

I have a love/hate relationship with the Sports Festival overall. I think it does well for some characters, not so well for others. I'd like to take some time to break down how some characters benefit and how others don't and really evaluate the arc as a whole.

Uraraka

I think Uraraka's a great place to start. Now, in my Bakugou analysis I did say that I was unhappy with the match, mostly because it panders to Bakugou to make him seem better than he was. And I stand by that, the narrative was trying to shove a "positive trait" of his down our throats since all we had seen from him up to this point was all negative. It was Horikoshi's first attempt at subverting expectations, I think.

However, I actually do think this fight was good for Uraraka as a character.

Uraraka isn't the fastest or strongest or smartest in 1A and previous to this that was fine because being those things wasn't her goal. She wanted to be a rescue hero and provide for her parents, she didn't set out to be particularly ambitious like Izuku or Todoroki or her other classmates. However, this proved to be somewhat of a hinderance to her succeeding as we see in the Cavalry battle. She pairs up with Izuku because she needs to rely on him if she wants to stand a chance of winning. And because of that, she feels like she can't fend for herself.

I think pairing her up against Bakugou was a good thing. Not because he treated her with "respect" or as a serious opponent (because he didn't), but because it pushed her to her limits and forced her to think outside of the box. She refuses Izuku's help because she knows she can't use him as a crutch going forward so she devises her own plan. And even though she loses, she still gets to shine and prove herself (we'll get back to this point with a certain character later). It also acts as a hallmark for her character, that she has to really push herself if she wants to be able to stand with (or even against) her stronger classmates.

Now, whether or not this setup pays off later is for another post, but I think Uraraka is one of the only characters this arc really does justice.

Izuku

If I'm being honest, the Sports Festival is far from the worst arc in the series for our beloved main character.

The race was great, of course. Because he can't depend on his quirk like everyone else, Izuku has to put all his critical thinking skills and strategic prowess to the test. The race is actually one of my favorite parts of the show because a kid from the bottom of his class (at the time) rises above everyone else and absolutely no one (including us) saw it coming. He has a major disadvantage and still comes out on top. It really ties in well with All Might's advice to stand in front of everyone and say, "I am here."

Now, the Cavalry Battle is a different story. To be fair, I don't think it really hurts or helps Izuku's character all that much. He has to think on his feet and strategize carefully, but he already did that in the race. His leaderships skills aren't really displayed all that much either (it's present, but Bakugou, Todoroki, and Monoma take much more of the limelight here). They could have taken more time to develop this role for him, but it's nothing really major to complain about.

The tournament is a little different. Obviously, Izuku couldn't win because if he had it wouldn't have been realistic. But his fight with Shinsou shouldn't have happened. The only reason they're matched up is for Izuku to break out of his hold with One For All. It doesn't do anything for his character (I might even say it hinders it because Ojirou specifically told him what to do and he ignored it) and really only serves as Shinsou's introduction, which could have been done with any character.

(Bakugou should have gone up against Shinsou. It would have humbled him; he would have lost to an "extra," one of the very people he talked down to. It would have also taught him that having a strong quirk or a weak quirk isn't what makes a hero and that power isn't everything)

However, the Todoroki fight does do Izuku's character justice. Because Izuku has always put helping others over winning or being the best. It's what makes him a true hero. He still makes Todoroki work for it and gives his all in the fight, but he does it with the genuine intention of helping. And that's what it means to be a hero. If the race was showing off his skill, then the tournament was showing off his heart. Those are the two sides to being a hero after all.

(If only the pro heroes had any semblance of sense to realize that)

So overall I am split on if this arc is good for Izuku or not. It does well with some things, poor with others. However, I do think that if Horikoshi had kept a similar approach with him throughout the story, it would have done him a lot more justice.

(At least more than whatever Dark Deku was supposed to be)

Iida

I don't have much to say on him other than that I think it would have been beneficial to showcase his skills a little more. He's supposed to be the second most intelligent in 1A and he got fourth on the quirk apprehension test. It would have been nice to show him off a little more like they did with Todoroki and Bakugou.

However, I do understand that his performance in the Sports Festival is meant to take a backseat to what's going on in his personal life. And for the most part that is done pretty well. The tension build up his actually really good and it sets him up to shine in the Stain arc.

I also appreciate his approach towards Izuku. He respects him and sees him as a friend, but also knows that Izuku is still an adversary. It's a unique approach to rivalry in anime and also sets up his role in the Stain arc well.

So it's not a terrible arc for Iida, but it could have been better for him too.

Bakugou

I know, I know I don't want to either but let's just get through this okay?

Obviously above I said what I said about how he should have fought Shinsou. And I stand by that. The Sports Festival was the best way he could have been humbled and taught humility. Having Bakugou fight Shinsou and lose could have aided his redemption in the long run.

Now, one thing that bothers me about the Sports Festival is that it seems like the narrative constantly goes out of its way to make him look better. Oh, Bakugou meets his match from a student with a copying quirk who rightfully calls him out and catches him off guard? Let's have him overcome the (truthful) assumptions and beat him and still qualify even though he was completely focused on the wrong things. Oh, the crowd thinks Bakugou is being overly harsh on someone who clearly isn't on his level? Let's have Aizawa vehemently defend him and tell everyone he's showing her respect when he obviously isn't (and even doubles down after the fact). Oh, Todoroki has just embraced a part of his quirk that's more than enough to beat Bakugou? Nah, let's have Todoroki throw even though he just had an epiphany about how his power was his and not his father's.

You see where I'm going with this? No matter what, this arc absolutely bends over backwards to portray Bakugou in a positive light. Where our other characters lose, struggle, and get put through the wringer, Bakugou is handed a win (literally and figuratively) multiple times. It's part of what pushed me from genuinely enjoying the Sports Festival to somewhat disliking it.

Bakugou is never allowed to struggle unless everyone around him is struggling too, most of the time worse than he is. This is a pattern that persists throughout the series. And it started in this arc.

Todoroki

You know how I said that Uraraka was one of the characters that this arc did justice? Well, Todoroki was the other one.

His set up in the Sports Festival is fantastic. Before this arc, we knew he was important. He was strong, aloof, and the only one who could intimidate Bakugou. The way they ease us into his character is very well done from his little mannerisms to revealing his backstory.

I know most of us agree that he should have beat Bakugou. However, him winning or losing the final match never really mattered. What mattered is that he made peace with his quirk and his trauma. And through Izuku he opens himself up which not only leads to him being a loyal friend, but also makes him a better hero in the long run. He is undoubtedly the character that develops the most.

(It's also through Todoroki that we get a bit of world building. Endeavor is the first example of a corrupt hero we see and we're introduced to the concept of quirk marriages)

Unfortunately, like Uraraka, this setup doesn't pay off that well later, but again that's a story for another day.

Yaoyorozu

An unfortunate flipside of Todoroki is that Yaoyorozu's character goes through the opposite.

A pattern with Yaoyorozu is that Horikoshi seems to fluctuate between wanting to treat her as a serious character and going out of his way to screw her over. In the race, she's a victim of Mineta's perversions (there's also the cheerleading bit, but that happened to all the 1A girls so it doesn't pertain to just her; it's still shitty though). She's barely present in the Cavalry Battle, only serving as a support prop for Todoroki's team.

And then the tournament is the final nail in the coffin. Yaoyorozu before this was shown to be calm, collected, and intelligent. She also- by the Quirk Apprehension Test results- has the most control and prowess over her quirk in 1A. So it's odd that she lost to Tokoyami so easily.

Not to say that she necessarily should have won, but for her to not realize what Tokoyami was doing was out of character to say the least when she was shown to be very observant. And if Horikoshi was going to add this insecurity aspect to her character in the Sports Festival, she should have gotten more attention beforehand. At least then it would have made a bit of sense. But to give her this vaguely hinted emotional moment out of nowhere was... weird. She has barely any screen time and no growth or development to lead us into this point. And she barely gets any after this moment. There's almost no payoff or point to this.

(*cough* maybe focus less on Bakugou and give other characters a chance to shine *cough*)

Yaoyorozu might have been the character screwed over the most in this arc.

Shinsou

Wasted potential. Like I said before, having him take down Bakugou would have really hammered in how dangerous his quirk can be. It shows him as an actual threat. Having him get ringed out by Izuku in the first round doesn't do anything for anyone's character. It makes his entire introduction lackluster.

Final Thoughts

So yeah, those are my thoughts on the Sports Festival. Good for some characters, not so much for others. I always like to read fics where it gets rewritten because so much could have changed for the better. What do you guys think? Did I miss anything?

#mha critical #bnha critical #anti bakugou katsuki #sports festival arc #sports festival arc critical #long post #anti bakugou #anti bakugo katsuki #momo yaoyorozu deserves better

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