#an exercise in loose writing

[doom-dreaming]

Cheerful Oblivion

Thought that I was hungry for love… Maybe I was just hungry for blood. **********

I met a woman in a club once. Years ago. Can’t get her out of my head. If I didn’t still have the napkin with her number on it… Well. Would’ve been easy to assume I dreamed the whole thing up.

It was a miserable night to be out. Rain was coming down in buckets, flooding the streets. Could almost hear it over the music, pelting the roof. But there she was. Filling the entire doorway. No coat. No umbrella. Nothing but a black tank top and jeans that looked too tight to be comfortable. Soaked to the bone, dripping wet, faded blue-raspberry-bright hair plastered to her neck. She looked like she’d dragged herself straight out of the ocean. In hindsight, maybe she had.

********** England is only ever gray or green. The girls glitter, Striding glorious and coatless in the rain. I remember falling through these streets, Somewhat out of place, if not for the drunkenness… It makes my chest hurt to think of it, Not of regret, but of missing that… …cheerful oblivion… **********

I remember the way she stood there, caught under spotlight rays of blue and green, the rain on her face sparkling like diamonds… She looked like an angel. Could’ve been. Probably wasn’t. More than likely…something else.

She didn't belong there. In the club. I don’t mean that in a judgmental way. Maybe philosophical. She didn't really seem like she belonged anywhere. But I could see it in her eyes, almost fluorescent blue under the lights. To her, it didn’t matter where she belonged. What mattered was where she wanted to be. And she wanted to be there. In that club. On that night.

I’d never been afraid of being noticed by a beautiful woman. I craved it. Don’t we all? This was different. She was different. Never felt my blood run colder than the second our eyes locked. It felt like being hunted.

********** It was not all pain and pavement slick with rain, And shining under lights from shitty clubs, And doing shitty drugs, And hugging girls that smelled like Britney Spears and…coconuts… **********

She flowed through the crowd like water, parting the proverbial sea, leaving a wake of awestruck stares. If she knew she was the center of attention, she didn’t care. She was a full head taller than anyone else, a titan amongst mere mortals. Muscles rippled when she moved. Wet skin shimmered. I tried not to stare, I really did. Couldn’t help myself. I could’ve watched her for days.

She swept ashore at the bar, smelling like petrichor and oil slicks. Ordered a drink. Smiled down at me, sitting so small a million miles beneath her. There was nothing human about that razor-sharp flash of teeth.

She asked if I wanted another drink. Hadn’t realized I’d finished the one in my hand. I nodded. Couldn’t find my voice. Tab’s on me, she’d said. Not here for long, least I can do. After tonight, you’ll never see me again.

********** And with your mermaid hair and your teeth so sharp, You crawled from the sea to break that sailor’s heart. You only get one night upon the shore, So dance like you’ve never danced before. And the dance floor is filling up with blood, But, oh Lord, you’ve never been so in love… **********

I asked her where she was from. She laughed, a harsh bark of a thing that ripped out of her throat like it hurt. Nowhere. I asked for her name. She didn’t answer. But that animal grin flashed back, a bright white scar across her face. For no reason, I thought about moths. And flames.

We stopped talking. Kept drinking. Started dancing. God, the way she moved. Like a machine. Like a predator. Like a ballerina. Equal parts precision, power, beauty.

I couldn’t keep up. She didn’t seem to care. I was a prop. A plaything. An entertaining little toy, something to keep her distracted. From what, I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. It felt like an honor.

********** And the mermaids they come once a year, They climb the struts of Brighton Pier, They come to drink, they come to dance, To sacrifice a human heart. And the world is so much wilder than you think. You haven’t seen nothin’ ‘til you seen an English girl drink… **********

I do still see her. Sometimes. In my dreams. In those hazy amber-clad memories. It’s hard to know what was real. Don’t know who she was. Or what she was.

Never did call that number. Not sure she’d really wanted me to. Probably for the best. I get the feeling that if we’d been in that club alone together… She would’ve eaten me alive.

And I think I would've let her.

[childrenofcain-if]

Am I the only one curious af about our exes though❓ I know you've given us some idea about where they are or what the reason for the breakup was, but it'd be interesting to see them meet Mc, even if it's not in the story

they’d probably think MC has changed a lot since high school if they met sometime in the future. i had at least a little idea how to insert their meeting during some kind of holiday/class reunion but now i think it’d be pretty irrelevant. if people are interested tho, i won’t be opposed to writing a scenario for that.

[girlsdads]

48- rampage 💕

“It has not moved in days, Daniel.”

“He’s luring us into a false sense of security! He’s plotting a spidery rampage as we speak—I can see it in his eyes.” Daniel is glaring at the tiny black smudge that’s taken up residence where the wall meets the ceiling of their living room. He’s pulled his bare feet up onto the sofa underneath him, like he’s expecting the spider to launch itself at his toes.

“You do not know it is a boy spider.” Max says because he knows it will make Daniel squawk indignantly. It is a cute sound he makes.

“Boy I know it’s a spider!” His lovely expressive face morphs into an exaggerated pout. “Kill it for me, Maxy.”

“You are from where they have giant dog-eating spiders and you are afraid of this thing?” Max is shaking his head in mock disappointment even as he’s pulling the step stool out of the closet and ripping off a piece of paper towel.

Daniel blows him a kiss.

[zestyzigzagoon]

We're back at 'I don't remember how to put words on a page', which tells me that in a week or two I'll end up writing 8k in the span of three days probably.

[haruka89]

Did the homework come with its own loose sheets of paper you had to do it on? Did I understand that correctly? Because I think that would be, like, 90% of the issue. If the homework gets written in the same place as notes taken/exercises done in class or in a whole exercise book, it's less easy to lose.

Unless one has trouble with not losing all kinds of school materials.

Actually, I think the whole way we do school here is (or was, with things going more digital now) to start with almost no loose sheets of paper at a young age and go to 'sheets of paper are fixed in place one until they are transferred to and fixed in place two'. And the school supplies you buy are pretty much set uo around that context. Not exclusively, but mostly.

When I was a kid I kept failing classes because I'd lose my homework. I'd finish it, but between the dining room table and the classroom it would just walk away. Sometimes it ended up in my backpack, sometimes it didn't; sometimes I finished the homework at school and it got home in my backpack but wasn't there the next day.

To attempt to address this, my parents got me a neon orange folder to put in my backpack; it was my homework folder, all homework was to go into that folder and that folder only, and it was to only come out of that folder when it was being worked on. I was to put homework in the homework folder as soon as it was assigned and if I'd worked on it, put it back in the folder as soon as it was finished. The logic here was that using the folder was supposed to be automatic, and you wanted a bright color so it wouldn't get lost in the depths of a backpack.

I think I lost about eight of those before my parents stopped buying orange folders.

So it was very frustrating to search "how to be organized at work as an adult with ADHD" only to get a list that said "set alarms and write things down and try to make friends with a more organized person" which was immediately followed by tips to help your ADHD child stay organized and the one right at the top was to put their homework in a bright folder so they couldn't lose it.

If you have been harmed by the ADHD Tips Industrial Complex you may be entitled to a packet of fun-dip and a cactus cooler as consolation for losing your homework folder again.

[accioharrington9]

we can't be friends (but i'd like to just pretend)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

prompt: four times you spent a holiday with your best friend Steve Harrington and one time you didn't and missed him.

word count: 10.2k

warnings: friends-to-lovers, everyone can see it (including steve and reader but they're both kind of in denial), mutual pining, characters in their mid-twenties, fluff and (some) emotional angst, steve uses a cheesy nickname for reader, mentions of partying and alcohol consumption, some swearing, no use of y/n

notes: hi all, this is the first reader fic that i publish here, so bear with me, i tried my best <3 in light of the year-end celebrations, this fun little idea of a fic came to me and i decided to give it a shot, so i hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

🥂🥂🥂

“What are your resolutions for the new year?”

You looked up from your glass of champagne when Steve asked you that question out of the blue. You were both leaning against the kitchen island at Nancy and Jonathan’s apartment, distractedly observing your friends playing a drinking game you had both stepped out of.  You were glad to allow your friends their fun, but mostly, to have a reason to get some alone time, just the two of you. A silent agreement, as always.

“You know I don’t believe in resolutions,” you answered before bringing a flute smudged by your red lipstick to your lips.

“Oh, come on, kitten, humor me for a second.”

You raised an eyebrow at him while he waited for your response with a cheeky smile. You heard Robin burst into laughter from the living room, but you were too focused on Steve’s loose strand of hair and the woody scent of his new cologne to acknowledge it.

“Fine,” you obliged him. “Well, I resolve to quit drinking coffee, exercise more, and buy a new and well-functioning car.”

“You’re full of shit,” Steve laughed. “Like you’re ever going to get rid of Gina.”

“Of course I’m not getting rid of Gina, she’s my ride-or-die,” you said, referring to your personified old car.

“Yeah, emphasis on ‘die’ – you're missing a rearview mirror in there.”

You nudged him playfully, briefly losing your balance but Steve helped steady you immediately, putting a hand on your hips that hovered there longer than necessary. You chuckled for good measure but couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your face.

Everyone knew you and Steve had a thing for each other. It had been that way since high school – lingering looks in the hallway between classes, overly tactile during a mundane conversation, pretending to forget something at the other’s house to have a reason to go there again… Everyone knew it, was used to it, and never mentioned anything about it – you and Steve included.

Nothing had ever happened because the timing was always off. If it wasn’t Steve who was dating someone, you were; then you moved away to go to college, and when you came back to Hawkins after graduating, Steve had just left for an internship in New York. Eventually, you grew tired of the never-ending “what-ifs” and made your peace knowing that Steve Harrington would always be more than just a friend but less than a lover. A fine line you both tiptoed in and out of too much over the past eight years.

“What about you?” you eventually asked Steve. “You’re corny as shit, you must have a lot of them resolutions in mind.”

“I only thought of a couple, and they’re not that corny.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Steve laughed again, running a hand through his hair as he reflected on what he’d say. You admired him while he did so. It was frustrating, still having that teenage crush on your longtime friend, not being able to let it go, not entirely at least. You sometimes wished you could be his friend the way Robin was to him, or Eddie was to you. It would make it all so much easier, so much less painful than this in two minds you were both stuck in, this blatant desire for more, this fear that it could all be ruined in seconds, poor decisions fragmenting the illusion of a blissful friendship.

“I thought about learning how to play the guitar.”

“Cliché,” you teased. “What else?”

You could see the turn the conversation had taken when Steve hesitated before talking – looked nervous, even.

“Moving out. Getting my own place.”

You stared at Steve, quiet. You couldn’t say you were surprised – he’d been roommates with Eddie since they both enrolled in community college a few years ago. Even after graduating and getting a job, they stayed that way, because it was simple; splitting the bills, having someone to talk to after a lonely day. But it could only work for so long. It was only a matter of time until one or the other got bored and needed a change of scenery. To you, it was no surprise Steve had that revelation first.

“You sound serious,” was the only comment you could express.

“Because I am,” Steve said. “I started looking at one-bedroom apartments to rent in the neighborhood.”

“Does Eddie know?” you asked.

Steve pursed his lips as he shook his head from left to right. You hummed and couldn’t help but look at the young man in question, with his curly hair tied back in a bun and his poor imitation of some football player his team had to guess the name of. You loved this friend group – you loved the dynamic, the hijinks, and the stability. You loved hanging out with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan at Eddie and Steve's apartment. You loved everything about it and the thought of losing your bearings, of disrupting your habits, made you too sad for the 31st of December, five minutes away from another midnight of confetti, embraces, and promises.

“You’re the first person I told,” Steve eventually said, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. “I thought you could share some of that wisdom you have to advise me.”

You snorted, lazily knocking your shoulder against his arm. “You buttering up to me, Harrington?”

“Only if it’s working.”

You got lost in his beautiful brown eyes, aware of the subtlest things, like his pinky finger brushing your hand timidly, the mint toothpaste on his breath, or how perfectly he wore the sweater you gifted him. It felt so right, standing close to him and toying with the possibility of the unknown. It always did with Steve.

“Okay guys, it’s officially one minute away from midnight, gather ‘round!!” Nancy exclaimed, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

Reluctantly, you left the little bubble of peace and happiness you had created in the kitchen, Steve following closely behind. As you started counting down from ten, surrounded by all your closest and dearest friends, you only had eyes for Steve.

It had become a habit since you first celebrated New Year’s Eve with him years ago – you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d kiss you at midnight. It was a fantasy you’d entertained ever since you were eighteen, the final and first thought of each year that passed without ever becoming real. Each year, naively, you thought it’d be different. But each year, it was the same old song all over again.

As the clock struck midnight and cheers erupted among the friend group, you hugged everyone. You saved the best ‘til last, heart beating frantically as Steve wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in his neck, getting drunk on his cologne – pathetic, disillusioned.

“Happy New Year, kitten,” Steve whispered in your ear before kissing your cheek – soft, tender, and terribly platonic, as usual.

“Happy New Year, Harrington,” you kissed his cheek in return, the trace of your lipstick leaving a mark on his skin like a temporary tattoo.

And you were too busy thinking about the undone to notice that this year, Steve held you in his arms a little longer than usual.

🌹🌹🌹

“Bro-lentine’s Day?”

“Is that one of those boys band they keep talking about on the radio?"

You held back a laugh at Steve’s question and Eddie’s comment regarding the odd suggestion Robin had just made. The four of you were waiting in line at a Wendy's drive-thru in Steve’s car, the crescent moon shining its feeble light in the night sky above.

“Why would you even think about spending Valentine’s Day with your loser single friends when you have a beautiful girlfriend you could shower with gifts?” Eddie asked, to which Steve, behind the wheel, concurred immediately.

“I mean, I obviously love you guys, but I mostly suggest that because Vickie’s working a night shift on the 14th and I figured it’d be nice to hang out together, the four of us, instead of just… I don’t know, being alone?” Robin admitted.

“Oh, so we’re your stand-ins?” Eddie exclaimed, feigning offense under your amused attention. “Classy, Buckley.”

“That sounds a hell of a lot like a pity party, Rob,” Steve pointed out.

You laughed along as Robin kept putting her foot in her mouth. It was often like that – Robin and Eddie gently bickering in the back seats while you exchanged knowing looks with Steve, in your designated seat at the front of the car.

The only difference was this time, when Steve searched for your eyes to have a silent laugh with you, you avoided his gaze, pretending to look in the distance, thinking about something you needed to say to him but couldn’t find the courage to.

“Okay, fine,” Eddie eventually yielded. “Let’s do this thing. But I have one condition – we go to Steve’s new apartment.”

“Excellent idea!” Robin exclaimed, enthusiastic.

“I told you guys, I’m not done unboxing my stuff, the place is a mess,” Steve argued as he started the ignition to move forward.

Robin rolled her eyes. “You say that like you have a thousand boxes.”

“It's his plethora of hair products - they take up a lot of room,” Eddie teased, which made Robin snort.

“You’re both hilarious, seriously, I can’t stop laughing,” Steve said with a straight face.

“So, it’s a deal,” Eddie said. “Bro-lentine’s Day at Steve’s new place – no, I’m sorry Rob, you’ll have to find another name, I hate how it sounds when it comes out of my mouth.”

“What do you think, babes?”

You only focused back on the conversation when Robin called your name, looking away from the constellations in the sky.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry babes but count me out of this one,” you said with a sorry smile.

Robin laughed, thinking you were probably messing with her. Steve was driving slowly now that the line ahead finally seemed to clear.

“Right, because you have something better to do on Valentine’s Day, of course,” Robin joked while Eddie chuckled.

You tried not to take offense because you knew it was some innocent banter, but it didn’t stop you from frowning.

“Actually, yes, I do,” you contradicted. “I have a date that day.”

The car braked abruptly, causing a blast of horns from the vehicle behind and surprised yelps from the back seats.

“What the fuck, Harrington??” Eddie ranted. “That’s why I keep telling you you’re a shit driver, seriously, how did you manage to get your license, man?"

“Sorry, I got… distracted for a sec’,” Steve apologized.

You couldn’t bear to look Steve in the eye, so you toyed with the bracelets around your wrists and stared at your shoes, waiting for your friends’ reaction to the news.

“Is it someone we know?” Robin asked bluntly. “It’s the cute guy from the music shop at the mall, isn’t it? I knew he had a crush on you, you’re the only one who got Like a Prayer for half price.”

“It was… actually a twenty-percent discount,” you corrected, even though none of your friends cared about that information.

“Who even asks someone out on Valentine’s Day?” Eddie asked himself out loud. “We have three hundred and sixty-five days a year, why choose this nightmare of a commercialized day deliberately?”

“I think it’s cute,” Robin shrugged.

You attempted a smile, but it was nowhere near convincing. Robin and Eddie weren’t even paying attention to you anymore, discussing with each other the pros and cons of a first date on the 14th of February. You gathered the courage to look at Steve, decipher his expression. He might’ve been trying to get your attention a moment ago, but now, he was just staring in front of him, both hands firmly holding the lower part of the wheel.

“So, you’re really going to abandon me with these two idiots, huh?”

Your laugh at Steve’s rhetorical question was a mix of amusement and relief. If there was one thing that meant more than anything to you, it was the harmony between you two. You knew that as soon as you or Steve dated someone, that harmony was threatened. It had happened before. It was a fatality.

“You’ll be just fine,” you assured softly. “It’s just one night.”

Steve chuckled, finally making it to the pickup window. “Yeah, you’re right. Just one night. Easy-peasy.”

At that moment, you couldn’t have imagined that on the 14th of February, you’d find yourself knocking on Steve’s door at ten in the evening, makeup ruined by your disappointed tears, holding tight to your coat and shame in the cold evening air.

When Steve opened the door and saw you standing before him, he blinked at the unexpected sight of you sniffing and shivering.

“What are you doing here, kitten? Is everything okay?”

As soon as you heard Steve’s voice and the concern he displayed, it was out of your control – another tear rolled down your cheek.

“Oh no. Come here.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice- when Steve opened his arms at you, you dived in, letting him hug you tight, accepting his warmth and empathy.

“Dude stood you up?” Steve asked, voice muffled as his face was buried in your hair.

“Worse,” you said. “He was there.”

Steve huffed, because it could’ve been a funny anecdote if not for the dried mascara that ran under your eyes.

“So, we’re not going to the music shop again, huh?”

“I never said it was the guy from the music shop,” you pointed out.

“You never denied it either.”

You snorted and you felt Steve smile against your head. He was the first to part from your embrace, but you were under the impression he could’ve stayed like that much longer.

“What’s taking so long, dingus?” Robin shouted from the living room. “You need help with the pizzas?”

“It’s not the pizzas,” Steve retorted as you stepped inside the apartment.

Both Robin and Eddie turned around on the couch and looked equally surprised to see you there.

“Is it okay if I crash Bro-lentine’s Day?” you asked sheepishly.

“We’re not calling it that!” Eddie said in a singsong.

“You’re more than welcome to crash Bro-lentine’s Day, babes,” Robin told you while wrapping her arm around your shoulders as you sat next to her.

“I give up,” Eddie sighed before heading for the kitchen.

“What did the loser do to get you like that?” Robin inquired, touching your face where the tears had dried.

“Honestly, he wasn’t even that bad,” you explained. “He just… wasn’t what I expected. I guess I’m tired of getting my hopes up and ending up disappointed every time.” You paused, reflecting on that state of mind. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” Robin contradicted with a sympathetic smile. “It’s Valentine’s Day, anyone would’ve expected a perfect date.”

“Hence why you don’t date on that doomed day.”

“Can’t you just let it go already, Eddie??”

You smiled softly at your friends’ innocent quarrel, and you realized in the end, there were no other people you’d rather spend the day of love and romance with.

So, you settled comfortably on the couch in Steve’s new apartment, surrounded by dozens of wrapped boxes and your closest friends with a glass of wine and a cheesy movie to watch, sharing the details of your date with them.

“Well, his loss, darling, not yours,” Eddie said in conclusion to your story.

“Definitely,” Robin nodded.

You smiled lightly and you thought maybe, just maybe, they were right.

“Why are you smiling like that, Harrington?” Eddie then asked.

“Hmm? Oh, no reason,” Steve answered casually before finding a tiny spot between you and Robin on the couch.

🎉🎉🎉

There was nothing more frustrating than being late to meet your friends and having your car’s engine make that hideous sputtering sound as you kept putting the key in the ignition without it ever starting.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you echoed in sync with the car’s noises.

“I see Gina’s being cranky today.”

You glared at Steve, sitting in the passenger seat and enjoying himself a little too much.

“It’s too hot outside, she doesn’t like it when it’s too hot,” you explained to yourself more than Steve.

“It’s the 4th of July, kitten. It’s always hot on the 4th of July.”

“Thank you so much for this enlightening forecast, Harrington, have you ever considered a career in meteorology?”

You bit your lip when you realized how harsh your comeback had sounded. You slowly turned your head to lay regretful eyes on your friend.

“Sorry,” you winced.

“You’re good. I think I know why Gina’s cranky today – she takes from her owner.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it.

The sun was starting to set in a sky adorned with pink and orange hues only summer could take credit for. The air was hot, crickets chirping and bees buzzing while the whole town was already busying itself in preparation for the incoming festivities.

For the past six years, on Independence Day, you’ve met all your friends by the lake on the outskirts of Hawkins to have a barbecue with beers and watch the fireworks. It was a tradition you all honored religiously each Fourth of July.

Except this year, Robin was celebrating with Vickie’s family, Eddie was working at the music camp, which meant you were spending the evening with Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, a group hangout that looked an awful lot like a double date, and it worked yourself up into quite a state.

“Did you get the Buds?” you asked Steve as the ignition still wouldn’t start.

“Packs in the trunk,” Steve answered straight off.

“And the blankets?”

“In the backseat.”

“The radio for the music?”

“Nance’s taking care of it.”

You fell back in your seat after failing one too many times to start the car and just closed your eyes, sighing heavily. You wiped your hands on your shorts, the summer heat getting the best of you, chest heaving and patience hanging by a thread.

“We can take my car tonight, maybe Gina needs the rest,” Steve suggested. It irritated you even more.

“We always take your car, tonight’s the one night a year we take mine,” you argued, putting the keys in the ignition again.

“We’ll take yours another time, then, it’s no big deal.”

“No,” you just said.

Without a heads-up, you got out of the vehicle. Steve followed you as you opened the hood to check the engine. You were rough in your endeavor, hair falling out on your face and hands quickly stained with oil.

“Why are you being so stubborn today?” Steve asked you, tone cutting sharp like a knife.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! You can tell as much as I can your car’s not going anywhere tonight, mine’s parked right behind and ready to go, so why are we losing time for nothing?”

“She’s just being picky right now but I’m getting there. She needs a little boost and she’s good to go,” you insisted, wiping the back of your hand on your forehead before realizing it’d smudge the oil.

“Yeah, sure, at this rate, she’ll be good to go for Thanksgiving,” Steve said ironically.

You shut the hood close abruptly, shooting daggers at Steve as he stood in front of you with his arms crossed. He looked just as irritated as you did.

“You’re being an asshole,” you stated matter-of-factly.

Steve snickered, eyebrows raising like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“Oh, I’m the asshole in this situation? You’re a fine one to talk!”

“Are you seriously turning the tables on me right now?!”

“I’m not, you’re clearly in a mood today and you’re taking it out on me! Last I heard, I’m not a punching bag!”

Your face twisted into a scowl because Steve annoyed you a great deal, but mostly because he was right. You were far from being good company today, and today was meant to be fun, chill, eventful. You could blame it all on Gina, but you knew that was just the tip of the iceberg.

“I’m just saying I’m going to get the car started just fine, all I need is a few minutes to figure it out. And we’re already late anyway, they won’t hate us for the extra ten minutes,” you said as you opened the hood again.

“This is not about the car and we both know it,” Steve stated, sure of himself. Of course, he was – he knew you like the back of his hand.

You closed the hood as soon as you opened it, walking closer to Steve to face him properly.

“Maybe you should take it easy if you want her to work, you know,” Steve remarked.

“Why don’t you just say what’s on my mind, Steve? Since you apparently know it better than I do,” you hit him with your words.

“But that’s just the thing! I don’t!” Steve exclaimed, his voice raising an octave. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now and you won’t tell me a goddamn thing!”

“You already know what’s going on with me, I made it perfectly clear – I want my fucking car to start so we can go and meet our friends, as we do every year!”

“And I made it perfectly clear that we can take my car, so why are we still arguing about this??”

“Because it’s the way things are supposed to be!!”

The silence that followed that revelation felt intrusive. You couldn’t wait for Steve to tell you off, to argue with you some more, but instead, he didn’t say another word and just stared at you, dumbfounded. It allowed you to reflect on your behavior of the past ten minutes and you immediately dropped your eyes to look at your shoes, ashamed.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked you then, voice softer.

You sighed and looked in the distance, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s the tradition. On the 4th of July, you come to my place to help me pack everything, we take my car to pick up Eddie and Robin on the way to the lake, we meet Nance and Jonathan there, then, you and Eddie set the barbecue while Jonathan and I take care of the music, and Nance and Robin lay the blankets to make us cozy. And we eat and drink until they shoot the fireworks from downtown – it’s how the day is supposed to go.”

“Right, and it’s how it’s going to go today,” Steve assured, confused.

“No, it’s not. Rob and Eddie are not there this year, and because of Gina, we’re late and missing out on the sunset.” You paused, taking a breath. “It’s what I look forward to the most. Watching the sunset on the lake with you guys. All of you.”

Steve relaxed his shoulders and breathed out like he finally made sense of the underlying problem. He stepped closer to you and his hand cupped your face, willing you to look him in the eyes.

“Okay, I’m going to take a wild guess and assume it has something to do with Nancy and Jonathan talking about moving to Chicago next year for Nancy’s job,” Steve said. “Am I boiling or getting colder?”

The rhetorical question elicited a weak smile on your lips.

“I know Chicago’s not that far from Hawkins, but… I like the way things are right now, you know?” you explained while Steve listened, nodding. “I like that we can hang out whenever we want to, show up unannounced at each other’s place, and whatnot.”

“You can still do that if they move to Chicago. It’ll just take you more than three hours to get there,” he teased you.

Steve did it – he made you laugh. “I’m not so sure Gina would survive the trip.”

“I’ll let you borrow my car, then,” Steve whispered, and even though you were bantering, it sounded like a promise.

You chuckled, the knot in your stomach coming undone as Steve put his thumb to your forehead, stroking where you had wiped the oil stain earlier.

“You look like shit,” he told you unceremoniously.

“And you’re a shitty friend,” you bit back, making you both smile.

Friend. The denomination never felt strong enough to define what you and Steve meant to one another. Yet, it was the only one you used, the only one that brought you comfort, especially in those blurry moments that kept you wondering why that boy had always been so sweet and kind to you, even when you felt undeserving.

You jumped at the sound of a car honking from the street, bringing you back to reality as you and Steve turned your heads to see what happened. You felt amused, and somehow relieved when you saw Nancy popping her head out the passenger window of Jonathan’s car like a beautifully staged interruption.

“Oh my God, you guys are late too?” Nancy shouted at them. “I told Jonathan to go over the speed limit, and as you can imagine, he was not happy about it.”

Steve laughed, and you followed suit because it was almost ridiculous, how perfect the situation had turned out. Sure, things felt different this year, with winds of change impending, and the future of your friend group unclear. But at least, you were all on the same page.

“While we’re here, get in the car with us!” Nancy offered, gesturing for you to come closer. “Maybe we can still catch the sunset.”

You exchanged an amused look with Steve, silently agreeing that your uncooperative car and your latest conversation would remain a secret you’d share only between you. Your friends didn’t need to know the reason why you were late.

So, you and Steve hurried to put everything in Jonathan’s car, climbed in the backseat, and made it to the lake just in time to admire the remnant of sunset and put everything into place to wait for the fireworks.

And as you put a blanket over your and Nancy’s shoulders, the fire crackling in the quiet of the evening around you, you couldn’t help but search for Steve’s eyes. He was already looking at you, sitting across the fire next to Jonathan. You smiled when you realized, and he winked at you, playful, secretive.

Maybe you were lying to yourself, in the end. Maybe you didn’t mean it when you said you liked things the way they were. Maybe there was one thing you wouldn’t mind changing, you thought as you looked away from Steve to look up at the fireworks now erupting in the sky above.

🎃🎃🎃

“I’m not sure I get it, Robin – who are you dressed as?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question, Nance? Marty McFly? Don’t tell me you still haven’t watched Back to the Future!”

“I didn’t have time.”

“In five years, you didn’t have time to watch a two-hour movie?”

“I work a lot, okay?!”

You were only half-listening to Robin and Nancy’s bickering as you finished getting ready for the Halloween party that your high school classmate Tina and her best friend Vicki Carmichael threw every year.

Usually, on the 31st of October, you would just crash at Steve and Eddie’s former apartment with the group, stuffing your face with popcorn and watching horror movies. But this year, the boys didn’t live at that apartment anymore and it was the last Halloween you’d all spend together in Hawkins before Jonathan and Nancy moved to Chicago next January. You all agreed it called for a memorable celebration, hence why you were now getting ready with the girls at your place.

“So, you mean to tell me you haven’t had time to watch Back to the Future, but you had it to watch all three Star Wars movies, judging on your costume?” Robin asked while Nancy grunted in frustration.

“I told you last week, me and Jonathan are wearing couple’s costumes – he’s Han Solo and I’m Princess Leia, obviously,” she explained while pointing at her long white dress and peculiar hairstyle.

“Couple’s costumes,” Robin repeated. “Kids these days, they’re just talking nonsense.”

“It’s romantic and fun, you’re just jealous you didn’t think about it for you and Vickie,” Nancy retorted as you were starting to think you were in the middle of playground taunts.

“Oh yeah, I should’ve asked Vickie to dress as Doc, it would’ve been crazy romantic,” Robin sassed.

Once the heels were at your feet, you turned around on your chair to stare at your friends.

“You two realize how stupid your fight is, right?” you chipped in.

“We’re not fighting,” Robin and Nancy said in unison.

You rolled your eyes and turned back around to face your vanity and finish your makeup, but it was too late – you had involuntarily drawn the attention to you.

“And who are you dressing as, hot stuff?” Nancy cooed while smirking at your reflection in the mirror.

You hummed the Dirty Dancing theme song to answer her question, and she nodded approvingly, taking in your pink dress and silver heels.

“I love it,” Nancy smiled.

“Thanks,” you said as you stood up. “And you two look equally great, so stop biting each other’s heads off.”

“So, if you’re Jennifer Grey, does it mean Steve’s dressing as Patrick Swayze? I could see him pulling that off.”

Robin’s question took you aback for it came out of nowhere. You gaped at her, face warm and thoughts racing.

“Hmm, no, he’s not. That’d… be a great couple’s costume, for sure. But we’re not a couple, so…” you stammered, awfully self-conscious.

“Well, yeah, but you might as well be.”

“Robin,” Nancy reprimanded her with warning eyes.

“What??” Robin exclaimed while you watched, confused. “It’s not like she doesn’t know what I mean, it’s been going on for years, this… whatever this is. And honestly, we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see it.”

Nancy blushed, embarrassment written all over her face as she rubbed a hand over it.

“I don’t… understand,” you admitted, tugging at the hems of your dress to anchor yourself in the moment.

“There’s nothing to understand, babes,” Nancy said softly. “Robin was just joking. Right, Rob?”

Nancy was now glaring at Robin, who had no option but to concur. It felt like you were missing something there, and you didn’t like it. Were your friends talking behind your back? Were they annoyed at your relationship with Steve? Annoyed at the ambiguity, the unsaid, the attraction? Was it all that obvious as of late?

“I’m sorry, guys,” Robin said with a sigh. “I had a fight with Vickie earlier today and it messed me up a little bit.”

“Oh, babes,” Nancy softened, hugging Robin from the side.

“I know that’s no excuse for being a jerk,” Robin winced in your direction.

“You’re all right,” you said with a sympathetic smile, and both Robin and Nancy seemed relieved.

The three of you talked Robin through her problem until it was time to meet the guys outside. Nancy was the first to exit the apartment, but Robin lingered by the front door, hand hovering hesitantly above the handle. Eventually, she made up her mind and turned over to face you.

“I just want you to know that I’m really sorry for earlier,” Robin told you.

“It’s okay, Rob, I get it. You were upset about your fight with Vickie and said stuff you didn’t mean. It’s fine, it happens to all of us,” you said, wondering why Robin had felt the need to bounce back on that.

“No, but see, that’s the thing – I did mean it,” she contradicted. “I just didn’t say it like I should’ve.”

“And how should you say it?” you asked with a frown.

Robin looked uncertain now, fidgeting where she stood. You imagined that if Nancy were still in the room with you two, she’d probably give Robin an earful.

“When I said that we’re all tired of pretending like we can’t see what there is between you and Steve, I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” she elaborated under your undivided attention. “It’s just… We’re your friends, and you know, as friends, we want what’s best for each other, I’m sure you feel that way about us too –“

“Robin, cut to the chase, please,” you interjected before she could lose herself in her explanation.

“We just think if you two admitted what you’re both obviously feeling for each other… You could be very happy together. And the rest of us would be too because damn, we’ve watched it happen since high school and it’s about time one of you does something about it, babes.”

You stared at the door behind Robin, wishing to run away from this conversation that was too much for you to handle. It was the first time one of your friends confronted you on the matter, upfront, and you had no idea how to react.

“I’m not expecting you to say anything, don’t worry,” Robin added. “I just wanted you to know what everyone else is thinking. Do what you want with that information.”

You opened your mouth to respond but you heard the distinctive sound of Eddie’s van parking on the street, your sign that it was time to go and end this conversation for good. You rushed to the door, opening it before Robin could and hurtling down the stairs to some extent on your heels. Once you were outside, you breathed in slowly, calming down and processing what one of your best friends had just confided to you.

You and Robin met Nancy on the curb as Eddie slid the van’s side door open to let you in the backseats.

“Evening, ladies,” Eddie greeted.

“Wow, you’re Elton!” Nancy exclaimed after studying Eddie’s costume, a white ensemble with feathers and glitter that was the singer’s signature.

“You could get that but not mine?!” Robin exclaimed, almost offended.

“Move on, Rob, and let’s have fun tonight,” Nancy teased her while sitting near Jonathan, dressed in the easily identifiable Han Solo outfit.

Robin took the passenger seat next to Eddie, leaving you with no choice but to sit next to Steve at the back of the van. Of course. Almost like it had been on purpose, you thought to yourself.

You settled next to him and you were almost insecure, something you’d never felt around him. You resented Robin for not knowing best, and not keeping her mouth shut.

“Hey, kitten,” Steve welcomed you as you smoothed the edges of your dress.

“Hey, Harrington,” you said in return, attempting to smile at him.

You studied his costume as he studied yours. Aviator sunglasses on his head, green jumpsuit, sleeves rolled back under his elbows – Maverick from Top Gun. You'd gushed over the character when the movie came out, and you wondered if it happened to be a funny coincidence or if Steve had picked that costume on purpose.

“Baby,” Steve suddenly said.

“What?” you choked out with widened eyes.

Steve frowned. “Your costume,” he clarified. “Baby from Dirty Dancing, right?”

You processed the information and chuckled awkwardly, feeling stupid. You let Robin get in your head and you hated it.

“Right,” you breathed out as Eddie drove away.

Something passed in Steve’s eyes, and you were not sure what it was. Hesitation, desire, resignation… You watched and waited, fingers laced on your lap, heartbeat echoing in your ears.

“You look… very nice,” Steve told you in a hushed voice.

You knew neither Nancy nor Jonathan could’ve heard it – they were engaged in a vivid conversation with Robin and Eddie in the front of the car. It was an intimate declaration, meant for you and you only.

Your lips parted subtly, but Steve’s eyes caught it regardless. It did not soothe the rate of your beating heart.

“Thanks,” you croaked it, throat tight. “You’re not too bad yourself."

Steve smiled briefly, then did the strangest thing. He leaned in, his face awfully close to yours, and you thought; this was it. He was going to kiss you. Right then, right there, in the back of Eddie’s van dressed as the guy from Top Gun on the way to a Halloween party.

And as much as you wanted him to kiss you, it wasn’t how you wanted him to do it. Not the place, not the time. Maybe Steve realized it too because he moved away as quickly as he had gotten closer to you, clearing his throat and watching out the window like nothing happened.

The party at Tina’s villa was loud, messy, and packed with former classmates – some you were glad to run into, others you made a strong case of avoiding. You had a nice chat with your high school sweetheart, even though you could feel Steve’s eyes on you the whole time. When you couldn’t bear the weight of his yearning gaze, you took a sip of that rum punch Vicki Carmichael had made – a few times.

You fled to the bathroom around eleven to freshen up and have some alone time. You were reasonably drunk, but still conscious enough to notice someone was already in the room when you barged into it.

“Oh, so sorry, I didn’t know someone was in there –”

You cut the apology short when you recognized the person’s reflection staring at you in the mirror.

“Becky, hi,” you said, surprised.

The girl greeted you back, the sound of your name imperceptible amid the party people shouting in the hallway. Now, you were reasonably drunk and very uncomfortable.

Becky was the last girl Steve had dated. They had been together for two years and seemed happy until Becky broke up with Steve overnight. Everyone assumed she’d probably met someone else, but you always felt like that was too simple and there was another more plausible explanation.

“You okay?” Becky asked you.

“Y – yeah, I just needed to cool off,” you mumbled.

You assumed Becky would urge you to clear off and leave her be, but instead, she stepped aside to give you some space in front of the sink.

You closed the door behind you and stood in front of the mirror, silently watching Becky perfect the mascara on her lashes. You quickly gathered she was dressed as Madonna in the Material Girl music video.

“It’s… been a while,” you said to break that awful silence. “What are you up to these days?”

“Small talk, huh? I thought we were way past that.”

You chuckled, ill at ease and too drunk to have a proper conversation. Out of all the girls Steve had dated, Becky was the one who unsettled you the most. You never knew what to expect of her.

“How’s Stevie?” Becky then asked before reapplying some lipstick.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Becky's inquiry, but something turned your stomach. You always hated it when she called Steve that name. It reminded you of a jealous version of yourself you’d rather leave in the past.

“He’s good,” you said casually, no matter your inner turmoil. “You know. Same old, same old.”

Becky’s lips turned into the semblance of a smile.

“I take it you two still aren’t together.”

You felt your heart drop at that comment. What did she mean, “still”? And what was up with everyone and their insights regarding your relationship with Steve?

“It sounded a lot less petty in my head, I promise,” Becky said when you stayed silent.

“It’s not that,” you replied. “I’m just… surprised you would say that.”

Becky sighed and turned around to face you. It looked like she was about to get a lot of things off her chest, and you were not sober enough for that.

“You know why I broke up with Steve?” Becky asked you, and she obviously wasn’t waiting for an answer. “Why all the girls he dates eventually break things off with him?”

You blinked. You didn’t want Steve’s ex-girlfriend to share that information with you. You had absolutely no desire to detain such knowledge. Yet, you shook your head, permitting Becky to say what she really thought, too curious to pretend you didn’t care.

“Because it’s painfully obvious he’s in love with you and we’re just here passing time until he finally has the balls to tell you.”

In love. You had thought about it all with Steve – he thinks I’m pretty; he’s attracted to me; he likes me more than a friend. But never in your wildest dreams had you dared fantasize about these powerful little words.

He’s in love with you, Becky’s voice repeated like a broken record on a loop in your mind. Taunting, hopeful, too good to be true.

You found yourself sitting on the bathtub’s edge, both arms at your side, speechless. Becky leaned against the wall across from you and chuckled like she'd just shared the funniest story.

“Don’t tell me this is shocking news.”

“I…” you started without finishing your thought. You were at a loss for words and your head started spinning, the fateful sentence seeping into your mind faster than the liquor in your system.

“Look, obviously, it wasn’t my place to tell, but you know, despite everything, I always liked you,” Becky confessed. “You were always nice to me, even though I could tell it was not easy for you.”

You lowered your eyes, apologetic. It was true – you had always been nice to Becky. After all, it wasn’t the girl’s fault if you had feelings you’d never dare confess to your best friend.

“That’s why I’m telling you,” Becky resumed. “I’m trying to help you two out. This whole faint-hearted act was probably cute when you were sixteen, but you’re adults now. Are you waiting for him to get married and start a family with someone else to tell him how you feel?”

The mere thought made your heart ache. You didn’t want to picture Steve married to someone else. It made you nauseous.

“Sorry, that was harsh,” Becky apologized.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked her in a whisper, feeling like your head was about to explode. “Why are you telling this to me and not him?”

Becky stared at you like you’d just said the most nonsensical thing.

“Because he’s an idiot and a coward. If you’re waiting for him to make a move, you’ll wait a long time, honey.”

You spaced out for a moment, and when you returned to your senses, Becky was gone, leaving you alone with your spiraling thoughts in that bathroom.

Becky was right. Steve was an idiot and a coward. The inebriation clouded all your good judgments, so you got to your feet and walked out of the bathroom to look for Steve. After everything that happened tonight, you were confused, upset, and even angry.

You found him outside by the pool, joking around with some guys from his old swim team in high school. You marched to him, bold and determined, and he didn’t notice you right away, so you hooked your fingers to the fabric around his arm and dragged him behind you. You ignored the guys whistling at you both or Steve protesting and asking what had gotten into you until you walked into an empty room on the side of the villa and closed the patio door behind you.

“Okay, what the hell was that about??” Steve exclaimed, his voice loud in the quiet of the room, away from the party noises and the music. “Have you lost your shit??”

“You’re an idiot,” you told him in an accusing tone.

“Tell me about it,” Steve sassed you.

“And a coward!”

“Oh, so you have a whole list, huh?”

“That’s what Becky said.”

Steve looked at you in silence, processing what you just said.

“Of course, you talked to Becky….” he sighed. “Let me guess – she said I stole her INXS tape? She needs to let it go, she clearly lost it, she can’t keep blaming me for –“

“I don’t want you to get married, Steve,” you interrupted him, blurting out what you had been obsessing about for the last ten minutes.

Steve froze and looked at you like you were insane. And you might just be, you realized. You took a step back, dizzy and embarrassed.

“I… was not planning on getting married any time soon. Where is that coming from?” Steve asked you, stepping toward you.

You bit your tongue, holding from saying another stupidity you’d immediately regret. Suddenly, your choice to confront Steve and isolate yourselves in a bedroom didn’t look like the brilliant plan it seemed to be five minutes ago.

“Forget it, I’m drunk, and I don’t know what I’m saying,” you stammered, head low as you walked toward the door.

“Hey,” Steve brought you short by taking your hand before you had the chance to leave. His touch was tender, your hand fit perfectly in his, and you understood what Becky meant when she said "still not together".

“Talk to me,” Steve urged, lacing his fingers with yours. It was unbearable, how natural it felt. “You used to tell me everything, and now, I have no idea what’s up with you anymore.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, wishing you could go back in time and stop yourself from putting the two of you in this awful situation.

“Come on, kitten, we’re friends, you can tell me anything.”

Friends. You loathed the word that normally comforted you. You couldn’t stand to hear it.

He’s in love with you. How could he say you were friends when he was the one you called first when your car broke down, when he’d snuck out of college to comfort you after you got dumped by your ex-boyfriend, when he drove you across the country to see your sick grandfather for the last time? How did he have the audacity to minimize what you meant to each other after taking such a significant place in your heart for years and years?

“We’re not friends,” you mumbled.

You looked at him and thought you could see heartbreak in his eyes. You’d hurt him. You’d hurt him badly.

“We’re not?” he asked, his voice breaking in the inflection.

You held your breath as Steve questioned you with glistening eyes. He didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him, and it was killing you.

“You know what I mean,” you breathed out, unable to say the actual words.

He’s in love with you. It was so simple. Why couldn’t he just admit it?

You’re in love with him too, why can’t you say it?  you admitted to yourself.

Because no, it wasn’t that simple. Steve wasn’t the only coward in this situation. After all these years, it was so scary to admit, even more to say out loud. How could you expect him to say it when you were terrified of doing it yourself?

Eventually, Steve let go of your hand, an almost insignificant gesture that shattered your heart into a million pieces.

“Actually… No. I don’t know what you mean,” he said, defeated, before leaving the room.

You did it. You ruined everything, you thought as you sat on the floor and cried your heartbreak away.

🎁🎁🎁

It was supposed to be the merriest day of the year, with children's laughter filling the air and countless presents to unwrap. Yet, your heart was not in it, and you had to hold back tears during dinner that night at your parents’ house.

You hadn’t talked to or heard from Steve in almost two months, and it was officially the longest you’d spent without seeing each other. The thought was excruciating. He was your best friend in the entire world, you were head over heels in love with him, and the absence of him was like gasping for air on the verge of drowning.

But today was a merry day. Today was all about spending time together, eating a nice homemade meal, and reuniting. So, you played the part – you ate dinner, played board games with your cousins, and chatted with your uncles and aunts. You did what you were expected to do, and nothing more.

When you returned to your place, to your sad and lonely apartment, you sat down on the floor, still in your red party dress, back to your couch with a glass of wine, and flipped through a photo album Nancy and Jonathan had given you for your twenty-fifth birthday.

It was a recollection of happy times Jonathan had captured with his camera throughout the years – from graduating high school to renting your first crappy apartment, taking your first trip to New York with the group, and celebrating various occasions with them.

You took the last photo from the album, holding it between your fingers to get a closer look. It was a picture of you and Steve on New Year’s Eve the year before. You were posing for the camera, smiling from ear to ear. You were looking at the lens, but Steve only had eyes for you, holding you in his arms with rosy cheeks. When you looked at it like that, in retrospect and from another’s perspective, it seemed so evident that the guy in the picture loved the girl posing next to him.

You were fully crying now, blurry eyes and stuffy nose in contradiction with the holiday spirit. You were about to put the picture away in the album when something in the back of it caught your eye.

There was a note in the handwriting you would recognize anywhere at any given time – Steve’s. Your heart skipped a beat. It had gone unnoticed the first time you’d looked through the album at your birthday party and none of your friends had mentioned a thing about it. You started to look at a handful of pictures to see if others had something hidden on the other side, but they were all blank. All except for one.

You took a deep breath, pondering. Maybe Nancy and Jonathan were unaware of it, but Steve not saying anything didn’t make sense. This note had been there, forgotten in an album gathering dust in your bookcase, for months, and it could’ve gone on for years had you not felt nostalgic on that specific day.

You wondered if you should read it or pretend you’d never seen it. It was only a few words; they were probably some meaningless inside jokes or more personal birthday wishes. But they could also be something more, much more.

You knew you couldn’t live with the uncertainty, so you gathered your courage and read.

Happy birthday, kitten! Don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I want you to know you’re my favorite person in the entire world, and I love you. Yours always, Steve PS: stop being a sourpuss just ‘cause you turned 25

It had been there. Right there, under your nose, all along. Yours always.

Before you could think it through, your coat was around your shoulders and you were behind the wheel, ready to drive to Steve’s place and tell him how you felt. Screw the stability and the uncertainty – you loved the boy too and you needed to tell him tonight.

It was past midnight, the air was cold and the streetlights reflected in the puddles on the pavement as you drove a little too fast toward Steve’s building. Your heart was racing in your chest, anticipation mingling with excitement while you rehearsed what you’d say in your head.

You were going to confess your true feelings to Steve. Nothing could scare you anymore.

Except, perhaps, the ominous sputtering sound your car made when you tried to restart at a traffic light.

“No, no, no, no, no, come on, not now!!” you begged desperately.

The ignition wouldn’t turn over, and you could’ve screamed at the sky. Was it some sort of cosmic sign preventing you from making the biggest mistake of your life?

You got out of the car to check the engine under the hood. When you opened it, it did something it’d never done before – it gave off fumes.

You coughed violently as you stepped away from the car, looking all around you and realizing you were alone on the street in the middle of the night with a kaput car and wasted opportunities.

“This is a nightmare,” you told yourself out loud. “This can’t be happening to me.”

Your eyes burned as you were about to cry again, disheartened and pathetic. Then, some headlights on the other side of the road caught your attention.

A maroon car stopped next to you and turned the ignition off. You held your breath, recognizing the vehicle instantly and wondering if the universe wouldn’t happen to be messing with you.

The driver exited the car and eyed yours up and down before chuckling.

“I had a feeling Gina wouldn’t make it through the year,” he said.

You laughed, the sound choked up in your throat at the improbability of the situation. You couldn’t believe Steve was there, rescuing you even without meaning to, always being there when you needed him to, the constant one in your life. As luck would have it, you thought.

“What are you doing here this late at night?” you asked him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” he remarked with a smile.

You returned his smile, nervously fixing your hair. The wind was rising, and the air was filled with change and expectations.

“I was… on my way to your place, actually,” you explained, somehow shyly. “I wanted to talk to you.”

A few seconds passed until Steve spoke again like he was processing the information. “That’s funny, I was on my way to your place too.”

You swallowed, unable to stop hoping. “You were?”

“Yeah… Of course, I was,” Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and I realized I never got a chance to give you your present because we weren't speaking to each other, so… Anyways, I can just give it to you now.”

“We’re literally in the middle of the road, Steve.”

He looked around at the empty and silent street for good measure. “Yeah, and it’s not like it’s rush hour right now, I think we’re good.”

You opened your mouth to retort but opted against saying anything else. It was your first interaction with him in weeks, it was out of the question to ruin it just to have the last word.

The young man got something from the backseat of his car and immediately handed it to you. You took it carefully, turning it over in your hand to try and figure out what was beneath the wrapping paper.

“I… don’t have your gift,” you admitted, crestfallen. “I mean, I did get you something, but I didn’t think to give it to you tonight.”

“It’s okay, kitten. Just open it.”

You complied, slowly unwrapping the paper with trembling fingers and shortness of breath as Steve observed quietly.

You were now looking at a book’s front cover, and it might’ve seemed unremarkable at first glance, but it was not some common paperback.

“First limited edition,” Steve explained, even though you already knew. “You talked about it at Eddie’s place a couple of months ago, that it was almost impossible to find today, and you’d love to have it. So, I went to every bookstore in town to ask if they knew where to get it, and one of them gave me their counterpart's number from England, they had to send it all the way here but… Yeah,” Steve concluded, face red and hands in his pocket. “I found it.”

You looked up from the book to lock eyes with Steve. He seemed expectant and abashed, almost anxious of your reaction.

“You went to all this trouble for me?” you asked in disbelief.

He pursed his lips and nodded as if it was that obvious.

“You’re well worth the trouble.”

All this time, you had expected blatant signs, big gestures, and declarations, when Steve had been telling you how he felt in his own way for years. It had always been there – in fleeting touches, longing stares, and understated actions.

“I read it,” you eventually confessed.

"The book?" Steve asked, puzzled.

“No," you laughed. "The note you wrote in my photo album. I read it tonight.”

You noticed the way Steve held his breath at that revelation. Suddenly, you no longer cared that you were standing in the middle of the road with your dead car by your side. Suddenly, all that mattered was the pretty boy standing before you and what you felt for him.

“It was corny, right?” Steve said with a nervous laugh. “I know you don’t like it when it’s corny but –“

“Can’t you just be serious for one minute, Harrington?” you cut him short with an amused eye roll. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel here.”

“I know,” Steve breathed out. “I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for months now, but I never find the right words.”

In the elation of the moment, your words got a mind of their own, and you heard yourself saying: “Show me, then.”

Friends. A designation you held onto for the past eight years, a status that put things into perspective whenever Steve introduced a new girlfriend to the group, a word that freed you of your guilt when getting into relationships yourself, a term that helped you when you would yearn for something more, something you thought to be unrealistic and unreachable.

That word no longer held any power over you now that you were in Steve Harrington’s arms and he leaned in to seal his lips with yours into a long-awaited and overdue kiss, the promise of a cherished and beautiful future.

You'd envisioned the scene time and time again in your mind, but none of the imaginary scenarios your fantasies created could measure up to that kiss. It was sweet, yet demanding, like you were the air he needed to breathe. He kissed you like he loved - sincerely, tenderly, and intensely. You smiled against his mouth, and your heart melted when he did it too.

When you parted from him, lips swollen and eyelashes fluttering, you felt like everything was finally right and mourned the time you wasted being scared of changes.

“So… What now?” you whispered, getting a strand of hair out of Steve’s face to look at him better.

The boy held your gaze, enamored and enraptured like you’d never seen him before. You enjoyed it while it lasted because it was a momentary bliss until reality caught up.

“Well, first, we’re going to call a tow truck," Steve said as he entwined his fingers with yours. "And then, you’ll bid farewell to Gina,” he nodded toward the car.

Your heart tightened in your chest. You’d almost forgotten about your car. It was truly ironic, how you needed to say goodbye to your oldest partner while embracing a new beginning with your best friend.

“Can it wait until tomorrow?” you asked while batting your lashes at him.

“Hey, just because we’re going to make out a lot from now on doesn’t mean you get to do that,” Steve jokingly scolded you while gesturing at your face.

“Do what?” you asked, coy and amused.

Steve laughed and put his arm around your shoulders. “Come on, kitten, I’m taking you home.”

At first, it didn’t feel like much had changed between you and Steve. You were still teasing each other, spending time with the group before Nancy and Jonathan’s departure, and arguing about what car you should buy now that Gina was in a junkyard.

But things had changed for the better, and you realized it on New Year’s Eve when Steve kissed you at midnight, as he would for many new years to come.

❤���❤️❤️

[fullscoreshenanigans]

#I mean. she's an emotional child and should be allowed to cry #no need for shaming tears (via @officersnickers)

One of my favorite things about the series is how it doesn't shame any of the characters for crying, regardless of gender.

(Chapter 55)

So I think Silent's ire is rooted in the simplification and sanding down of her character in order to more easily facilitate stock narratives/scenarios rather than the act of Emma crying at all, especially when it's such a significant moment of "The Day Emma Cried" short story from the first light novel (released back in 2018) that it's the focus of the title and it's laid out plainly in the text itself as something that both Norman and Ray recognize.

Norman notes it again years later during chapter 4/S1 episode 2.

It's why his reunion with Emma in chapter 118/chapter 119 is such a striking moment with how her tears initially seem to flow without any preamble, only wordless disbelief as the magnitude of everything happening rapidly registered in her brain and a figurative switch has been flipped.

It's not that she doesn't experience those emotions, but that it's not how she generally regulates and expresses them.

(Chapter 3 | Chapter 49 | Chapter 109 | Chapter 110)

I'm assuming the fanfics in mind weren't having her cry as part of a character study examining the ramifications of how being thrust into a leadership role at such a young age and internalizing so much trauma while maintaining a front for the sake of others and leaned into being more tropey, which is something that people are free to write as an exercise in flexing their creative muscles, but it's not something I'm keen on reading either.

Alright, so something tha really bugs me in the tpn fandom, particularly in fanfics, is how they characterize Emma. There's a lot of fic I've read that make her a crybaby. Now there isn't anything wrong with a character being a crybaby but it isn't accurate for Emma. Yes she's emotional and sensitive and open about it, but you need to remember that she's canonly only ever cried 3 or 4 times in the span of 15 years.

[gingybimby]

Collateral Damage of Dragons

Synopsis: Sylus is still a dragon, but keeps tight control on his form. It's only when you lose all inhibitions while ovulating that he matches your energy.

Notes/Warnings: explicit shameless nsfw (MDNI), sylus x afab!reader, no use of Y/N, they're feral and break things, breeding, established relationship, you know he's not human but not much else, explicit consent and safe word established, predator/prey tones

This took too long to write. Barely proofread. Might cross-post to AO3 later. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SYLUS- I've been saving for the birthday memory.

wc: 3.1k

Tag List: @browneyedgirl22 @cherryredstarz

You were possessed. At least, that’s what it felt like rushing into the N109 Zone on your bike, the heavy vibrations making the ache between your legs unbearable. You’d only gotten off work just before racing over into lawless land because you couldn’t bother to wait. It was bad enough Xavier had been hovering, like he could tell your panties were soaked even after spending forty-five minutes wrapping up some paperwork from some wanderer encounters. You adored your sleepy coworker, but there was only one man on your mind all day making you ache.

Driving right into the underground garage where Sylus liked to keep all his various motorcycles was second nature to you these days ever since you and Sylus became rather serious about your relationship. You still liked to dance around each other in your methods of sharing indirect affection, but the dance held an electric zeal to it now. It was a good thing you both liked a little danger.

When you slipped into the base, you were on a hunt. Luckily, the twins seemed to be absent. It saved everyone from some awkwardness and trouble. Your boyfriend was proving to be rather elusive. He wasn’t in the boxing ring, his favorite music room, his bedroom, or the main armory. You made it back to the large common room that had an open kitchen and island with a quiet huff when finally a presence appeared at your back.

Your neck was brushed with a strong nose and curious lips that sent fire right to your aching pussy. Large, strong hands settled on your hips as the deep voice of Sylus practically purred into your ear after tugging your earlobe between his teeth momentarily.

“Looks like a little kitten brought herself to me in heat.” 

You spun on Sylus, pointing an accusatory finger in his face until he tried to bite it. Your glare was fueled with playful annoyance.

“You-! You know exactly what time of the month it is and you were deliberately hiding from me.” You accused even as your boyfriend dragged you closer to press your bodies together.

“Hm.. guilty as charged. Fuck I could smell you the moment you walked in, kitten.” Sylus buried his face in your neck once more to breathe in deeply like he needed your scent to survive. A soft growl reverberated in his throat.

You couldn’t stop the shiver that licked up your spine, leaning your head to the side for him. It was the faintest whimper from your lips that had him lightly biting into your neck, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before relaxing in what you knew to be an exercise of restraint. That simply wouldn’t do. 

Ever since you learned Sylus wasn’t exactly… human, you’ve been wanting to see more of that wild part of him that he always kept careful control over. You learned quickly that your scent drives him crazy, so you intentionally didn’t put any artificial smells on your skin today.

Oh you knew exactly what you were doing. You intentionally denied yourself the littlest pleasure as the peak of your ovulation hit just so you could truly let loose with Sylus. You even already put in for tomorrow off. It was all for this. You wondered if he suspected anything.

Planting a firm hand on his chest, you pushed Sylus away with blushing cheeks, knowing your panties were ruined and that he could smell that. It was such an unexpected turn on. Sylus didn’t look at all upset at being pushed away save for the tiniest frown as his eyes danced over your face.

“Down boy…” You laughed lightly. “You go sit over there for thirty seconds. I get to have a head start since you decided to hide from me. You better not hold back. I have my safeword: Pomegranate.” 

You swore you saw Sylus’s dilate more than they ever have before at your quiet words. It was so embarrassing at first, having open and honest conversations over something like sex, but Sylus always stressed the importance of it and now it made things like what you were about to do utterly thrilling knowing you’re safe with him. 

You’ve never seen Sylus drop onto a couch so quickly, his eyes burning holes into you. The red gaze never once left your direction and followed you as you neared the doorway to the hallway. You looked over your shoulder at him, kicking off your boots one by one.

“Start counting… Now!” With a final shout you broke into a sprint, heart already racing and giggles flying from you without your say.

During your run, you started discarding things. First it was your holsters for your pistols. Then your socks. Your pants and shirt took the longest, but as you let your ruined panties hit the bare floor, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and quickly ran off again, now only left in your bra.

You slid into the long hallway that would eventually lead to his bedroom and felt that sensation again- that you were being watched by a predator. You didn’t even make it halfway down the hall before a heavy mass was shoving you into a wall chest first. A hand landed above your head and there your dark red panties were twisted in his grip. A long drag of Sylus’s tongue up the back of your neck and the rough pressing of his hips into your ass had you gasping out his name, reaching back with one arm to bury your hand in his silver hair.

“I caught you.” Came his low growl.

An irreverent hand slipped between your legs to drag through your dripping folds. He pauses to circle two fingers into your swollen clit for several moments. Pressing yourself back against his cock, you didn’t hold back your noises as he drew them from you.

“My pretty girl… so ready for me… You put so much effort into trying to drive me wild, huh? You want me to breed your pretty pussy so badly, kitten?”

The filth that came from his lips was just what you wanted as you forced him back a step with a harsh elbow, caught by his hand wrapped in your panties of course. Spinning, you dragged him up against you by the waistband of his pants.

“Why are these still on?” You grumbled before his lips crashed into yours in a wild flurry of kisses that was an obscene connection of tongue, lips, and panting breaths.

You only have a brief second to latch onto his shoulders as he drags your legs up around his waist. He only walks you both a small distance before he settles you on a table just meant to display some of his “shiny things” as you call them. Items of exorbitant value that he likes because of one reason or another. You try to be careful to not knock anything over, almost mentioning it to him to be careful, but he was kneeling between your legs.

You were given no warning as his lips closed over your clit for him to suck on and felt two fingers spread your folds to expose your aching hole clenching around nothing. Sylus groaned into your heat, pulling back only briefly to drown you in praise.

“You taste so good- I can’t get enough.” 

You felt the cold tingling sensation of his evol as it wrapped around one of your calves to drag it over his shoulder as he buried his face into you once more. He slipped two fingers into you instead of starting with one like he usually did and it sent your back arching and snapping a hand down to his hair.

“Fuck!” You whined out, feeling his fingers slowly thrust into you at an easy pace. It was when he pulled lightly on your clit with his teeth and teased his tongue along the hood of your clit that made your arm snap out across the table. You were desperate for something to hold onto, but instead you sent a gorgeous piece of kintsugi flying to the ground, shattering immediately on impact. 

The sharp sound made you jump, apologies starting to tumble off your kiss-swollen lips, but Sylus didn’t so much as shift from his position of worship between your legs. He only curled his fingers up to rub that delectable spongy spot in you that made you see stars and felt his grin when you sobbed out his name. It was right there, that delicious edge promising a most wondrous fall that had you bucking your hips into his mouth.

“Sylus! Please! S-so close. Wanna cum…” You cried.

Part of you knew he was going to pull away, but it still didn’t stop your despairing gasps that melted into frustrated growling and huffs. 

Sylus rising from between your legs was a sight you’ll never tire of as his tongue worked over his fingers to collect every drop of your essence. Your slick covered the lower half of his face and that only made the denial of your orgasm all the more painful. The way he was watching you, you knew he was giving you a moment to put a stop to things if you truly wanted. Shaking your head, you sat up just so you could tear open his buttoned shirt. You glared at him when he only gave you an amused quirk of his eyebrow.

“Such a hissy kitten… You should know by now that you’re not allowed to cum tonight unless my cock is buried in you and filling you with my seed.”

Your glare became more of a pout at his purred words, a fresh wave of need hitting you like a freight train. Gods you wanted that so badly. You needed that.

“Then stop talking and take me to bed, or do you not want me to have your baby.” As you spoke you wrapped your legs around him to pull his hips into you and felt his throbbing bulge get soaked with your dripping need.

Sylus’s groan made your toes curl before he was sweeping you up in his arms and stumbling towards his room even as you desperately ground your pussy against his confined cock. His fingers sinking into the flesh of your ass almost felt sharp when he finally kicked his bedroom door in. He was too focused on biting bruises into your neck to even spare a moment of his attention to the fact that he kicked his poor door hard enough to break off one of the hinges.

When Sylus finally threw you down onto his bed you looked up at him with a cheeky smile, rolling over onto your stomach and raising your hips with a little wiggle. It earned you a hard slap as Sylus spanked you while getting rid of what remained of his shirt and his soiled pants. You let out a sharp yelp that eased into a whiny moan as heat radiated from where his palm landed on your ass.

The coolness of his evol was on your skin again as your bra was tugged free and a pillow being moved to support your hips. Then it concentrated on your wrists as your arms were pulled taut in front of you, pinned.

“Is this okay, kitten?” Sylus’s voice was a comforting roughness that always left you putty in his hands. You started to nod before verbally responding instead.

“H..haah… yes. I need you inside, Sy… I need it so badly.” 

You wanted to push back into him when you felt his cock throb against you. You were still so high strung from your denied orgasm, the cusp just lingering beyond your reach. Couple that with how horny you’ve been practically all week, having waited for this day in particular, you were at your wits end.

While discussion of kids has floated around, you two haven’t tried to exactly plan for any of it. If it happens, it happens was the mentality you both were okay with, but that didn’t mean you wouldn���t try to tip the odds in your favor. It most certainly wasn’t because one of your coworkers on maternity recently stopped by with her new baby and something gripped at you so desperately you’ve been thinking about it non-stop since.

“Don’t worry Sweetie, I’ll take care of you.” Sylus’s words were an oath and you knew he’d deliver.

One of his hands massaged the cheek he slapped moments ago while his other guided him to your dripping heat only for him to sink in right to the hilt immediately. Normally it took a little time for you to relax properly. His breathless laughter was at your neck as he leaned over you, brushing your hair away so he could trail kisses along your spine.

“You really weren’t kidding… you’ve never taken me so eagerly before, baby.”

You sobbed out in utter bliss as his cock filled out every inch of you just as you’ve been needing, but even this felt like it needed more and he was already huge to begin with! His little bits of teasing didn’t even get a real response from you beyond you trying to bounce yourself against his hips.

Sylus didn’t need to be told twice to get moving, working both of you up to a brutal pace that had your entire being singing with pleasure. His cock hit you in all the right ways, reaching deep enough to tease your empty womb. Your evol-bound hands twisted into the bedding as each noise was forced from your lungs.

“More… Feels so good Sy… Want more…” You babbled, unable to see the slight emergence of black scales along his skin.

He’s never had a lapse of control over his form since long before he even jumped to this time from the Deepspace tunnel, but you right now- the way you cried for him, the scent of your fertile womb at its peak, knowing you’ve been struck by a wave of baby fever from a coworker… It made this beastly side of him rear its ugly head. The need to pin you down with his teeth and tail, to claim you as his mate properly with a vicious bite, to fill you completely and knot you to make sure his seed catches. Oh, you ruined him in all the best ways.

He knew his teeth were already sharper with how his jaw ached to clamp down on your neck and uncontrollable drool pooled in his mouth. His nails wanted to become familiar claws, but he refused to lose the sensation of feeling your skin with the sensitivity fingers offered. Your pleading for more was going to be his undoing. He could already feel a knot forming at the base of his cock and from the way you suddenly bit into the bedding with a sob, the rest of it changed too. Firm ridges and all.

“Oh gods… yessss! Sylus!” You were so lost in your pleasure you hardly paid attention to the differences other than it felt so good. Feeling drool hit your shoulder, you instinctively dropped your head the opposite way.

“Bite me.” You commanded between tearful mewls. “I’m so close-”

The noise Sylus made definitely sounded more beastial than man, but where he worried you might get scared, you just cried his name again, begging him to cum in you as you hit your peak. Sylus was growling when he slammed his hips into you, bullying his knot into your tight hole just as he clamped his teeth down on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

You were crying, overwhelmed completely between the pain and pleasure. The way he rolled his hips with every steady pulse as he filled you dragged you through the remnants of your orgasm. Something deep inside you was immensely satisfied, feeling so full of your lover.

You vaguely heard Sylus swear and your neck ache, but everything was fading out fast with sweet sleep dragged you under with a siren’s song.

“Love you… Sylus…” You mumbled before drifting off fully.

—

When you woke up your entire body was sore, but your pussy ached the most. You could smell Sylus on your pillow and hummed in contentment while stretching out as a lazy cat would. You nearly drifted back to sleep when tender fingers brushed your hair from your face and a low voice called your name.

You blearily pried one eye open, barely peeking out from your blanket you had pulled up right under your chin. Red eyes filled your vision and a tender hand crept past your blanket defenses to cup your chin.

“Hey Sweetie… Are you alright?” Sylus looked so concerned, his hair a wild mess as if he’d been running his hands through it constantly.

“Mhm… It was amazing.” You started to push the blankets down to reach out for him when you realized he already had you in a fresh set of one of your favorite jammies. 

“Why aren’t you cuddling me?” You pouted.

“You, my dearest, are a menace.” He drawled out slowly, a visible relief melting into his body and eyes before he dragged a hand through his hair. You narrowed your eyes slightly.

“Were you worried about me?” You questioned, starting to sit up before he shook his head and crawled into bed with you. He dragged you on top of him like you usually preferred and he started playing with a bit of your hair.

“I lost myself a little.” He admitted quietly, meeting your eyes with genuine remorse. “I hurt you because I wasn’t-” “Did I say pomegranate?” You interrupted him, tilting your head slightly.

“No, but-”

“But nothing. I didn’t say it. I wanted all of you. Even the nonhuman-y bits. Those are starting to become my favorite.” You grinned, cheeks going the slightest bit red as the memories started coming back.

“I trust you. You trust me, right?” You reached to run a finger along his upper lip.

“I do.” He responded without hesitation. “I just… losing any level of control for me is-”

“You don’t have to explain. I know.” Your finger traced up his nose and along his brow. “You’re Sylus. My Sylus. And I’ll always love every part of you- good, bad, and wild.” You sat up slightly on his lap, dancing two fingers up his chest while humming. “And if you ever decide you want me to see all of you, I’ll savor every bit of it. Because it’s you.”

Sylus snatched your hand in his, lacing your fingers together with a quiet laugh, his eyes shining with love and face just the slightest bit red. He dragged your hands close so he could kiss the back of yours.

“I love you.” He breathed your name with reverence along with his declaration of love. It’s hardly the first time you’ve heard him like this, but it still made your heart skip a beat. You snuggled into his chest, letting your hands rest together completely entwined.

“I love you too.”

[bananayuyu]

Making a Mess

Pairing: Mingi x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Being on stage makes Mingi really, really horny. Luckily you're backstage to help him out.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, public sex, unprotected sex, bodily fluids making a mess on the floor...

A/n: Heard an audio on here today and well... my brain started working overtime. I need him to destroy me. My bestie challenged me to write something short finally 😭 hope you enjoy! <3

I wrote a part 2/expansion of this story called Cleaning Up which you can read here!

Read it on ao3

<^><^><^><^><^><^>

Being on stage always had an affect on Mingi, one visceral and tangible, obvious even to fans with a keen eye. The lights, the production, the sea of screaming people chanting his name, it all riled him up more than anything. Staring out at the massive arena, the music deafening loud as he rapped through ragged breaths, his nerves were on fire. Exiting the stage he ripped off his jacket, lumbering quickly towards the changing rooms on his way to find you.

You, his companion on tours. His close... friend? Not really. No one asked questions, least of all you two. But you knew why you were here, why he needed you patiently waiting with the rest of the staff, ready to help him at a moment's notice.

"Y/n," Mingi huffs as he busts through the door, his lungs heaving from the heat he's feeling, his makeup making his eyes look dark and demanding. A small smile sneaks onto your lips as you rise, following him out into the hall, a sprinkling of random people wandering past you at varying speeds. You've both been in this arena a few times before, and you know exactly where he's taking you. He's got about seven minutes before he needs to be back onstage again, so it can't be too far. Not that either of you are thinking about that right now. You duck down another small hallway and then his hands are on you, pushing you against the wall by your hips, his open mouth colliding with yours as you both sigh in anticipation, tongues roaming each other's mouths. You can hear a pair of shoes squeaking down the perpendicular hallway, a small golf cart running by somewhere in the distance. You're not really covered here but it doesn't matter. It only adds to everything.

Mingi pulls back with a nip to your lower lip, burying his face in your neck as he snakes his hands underneath your shirt, squeezing over your entire body while biting down, marking you just like he did a few days prior, where a small yellow bruise is still healing. A small yelp escapes your lips at the pain, your entire body buzzing with pleasure as he so aggressively plays with you, making your knees weak. Not wanting you to fall he moves to grab your waist, lifting you up the wall as you wrap your legs around his hips to anchor yourself. At this angle you can feel how hard he is, just like everyone saw moments ago on the big screen.

"Was it a good set?" you ask breathlessly, your faces only inches apart.

"Fuck yeah," he responds before kissing you again, a hand coming to rest behind your head as he pushes into your mouth even further, reveling in the feeling of your warm tongue on his. "Fuck I needed this," he groans, his other hand gripping your hip to help support you, his hips grinding into yours as he tastes your sweet lipgloss, your perfect eyes shut in pleasure as he digs his hand into your soft flesh. Soon he's unbuttoning his pants, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he holds you up with just his hips. He's unzipping hastily, desperately grabbing at his cock to free it, squeezing his shaft as he lines himself up with you. Your exercise shorts are just loose enough, with no underwear underneath of course, for him to push them to the side and reveal your soaking cunt, your body getting worked up long before he came and got you. Shakily he lines himself up with your entrance, his blood pumping through him so fast as he slowly pushes in, the stretch immaculate.

"Fuck, Mingi," you whisper, shocked every time by how big he is, how good it feels. Slowly he starts rocking his hips into yours, your wet pussy making lewd noises echo down the hallway. Moving his hands back to your hips Mingi lifts you just a bit higher, giving him the perfect angle to start fucking you hard, the wet noises replaced by the slapping of skin, over and over and over.

"How are you always so wet?" he groans in your ear, his mouth nipping at your lobe and making you whimper. Pulling back he watches your face from just inches away, loving the way your brows are scrunched up and your mouth hangs open as you try not to moan too loud. Your body bounces with the force of his thrusts, your hands still anchoring on his shoulders as he pounds into you even harder, his grip on your hips so strong it will surely leave bruises. Your pussy clenches down on him as he hits your cervix repeatedly, ripping little orgasms out of you over and over, your legs shaky as you hold onto his hips for dear life.

"God, you drive me fucking- fuck- crazy," he whispers in your ear, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your wet walls squeezing down on him. "You cum so fast on my cock," he groans, his head spinning as his climax quickly approaches. You've already fallen over the edge multiple times, your body shaking hard now as you just try to hang on, unable to respond to him as you keep yourself from screaming into the open hall. He's absolutely ravishing you, his movements sloppy as he chases his pleasure, your wetness dripping down onto his pants, the floor. Suddenly his orgasm washes over him, his hips stuttering before coming flush with yours, as he shoots deep inside you, his cum filling you with warmth. It's a lot, too much for your pussy to contain, and small amounts start dribbling out of you already, even with his cock still buried inside you.

"Fuck, what would I do without you," he sighs into your hair, kissing your forehead before moving to your lips. He moves his hands around your back, pulling you up towards him in an embrace as you breathe hard. Your arms rag doll down to your sides as you sigh, your head resting heavy on Mingi's shoulder, and he chuckles. "You good?" he whispers, and you nod your head in response. You nuzzle your face into his neck more, making him pause for just a moment, letting a bit of time pass with you both still entangled.

And then it's finally time for him to slowly pull you off of him, both of you watching as the rest of his cum drips out, down your legs and onto the floor, leaving a small puddle. There's a smirk on his face but your cheeks are bright red with embarrassment, even if this wasn't the first time that's happened. For a brief moment his chest tightens, knowing that you find it a bit mortifying letting him have you so publicly. It's all so hot and so shameful all at once, making you quiet and shy, and with your eyes on the ground your hand on his arm is the only sign that you're still wanting him next to you.

"Come on," he says, helping you start to move the rest of the way down this small hall that had a bathroom at the end of it. This really was the perfect arena for this, given the out-of-the-way private bathroom. You wish all of the arenas they toured had this set up. Your legs wobble as you make your way down, Mingi's hold the only thing from preventing you from falling. And then you're finally there by the door, about to swing it shut when he gently grabs your shoulder turning you around. His eyes are swimming with satisfaction as your face meets his, and he leans down to pull you into a kiss again, this time sweet and gentle.

"Mingi, get your ass back here!" you hear a voice scream from down the hall, the sound sharp from ricocheting off the brick walls. And just like that he's gone down the hallway, running on somewhat shaky legs of his own. But not before planting one final kiss on your nose, making your stomach light with butterflies, your core clenching from the sweetness.

[dinogoofymutated]

Kissin and shit - Morph, Colossus, Gambit, Quicksilver. Heehee. here they be! I might or might not do more. It really depends bc I'm doing these as a writing exercise more than anything lol. TWS: Alcohol consumption mentioned, lots of overly enthusiastic smooching. Sexual references but no smut.

Morph

    “I love you- I love you so, so much” Morph doesn't have a minute to reply to you as you kiss them senselessly. Every once in a while when you separate to breathe, they try to speak, only for you to interrupt them with more kisses each time. Morph hums in a confused but happy sort of way. You’ve basically thrown yourself onto them, kissing them again and again until they loose their balance and the two of you topple backwards. The moment you realise you’re falling your hands slide behind their head to cushion the fall, and after a wide-eyed moment of shock both of you are laughing.

    You kiss all over their face, eyelids, cheeks, that little bump where their nose would be- and you don’t stop even as they start to fully fall victim to their laughter. God- did you love that sound! You catch their lips in a kiss again, and they hum in appreciation, panting when you finally pull away with a genuine smile on their face.

    “Not sure what I did to deserve that, but can you tell me so I can do it again?”

Colossus

    Piotr is struggling to keep up with your fiery, passionate kisses. He’s just a quiet as he always is, but you can feel his chest heaving against your own. His breath hitches as you drag your teeth across his bottom lip, before moving your kisses down his neck. You’re gentle with your kisses and nips- lavishing him with all of your love. He’s still silent, not a sound leaving his mouth, but you can feel his large hands squeeze around you just slightly. 

    “Piotr? Are you okay?” You ask when you finally pull away. He’s more red than you’ve ever seen him before, flushed from his ears and all the way down his neck. He doesn’t respond to you at first, his blown pupils looking back and fourth from your lips to your eyes a he fights the urge to pull you closer and kiss you until the next morning. 

    “Yes… Yes. More than okay.”

Gambit

    “You’re so drunk.” You giggle, hands buried in Remy’s hair before he pulls you into another drunken kiss. They’re wet, messy, and sloppy kisses, but you can’t seem to get enough of them. You can taste the alcohol on his toungue as it slides against your own, feeling the slight sting of the taste.

    “Pot callin’ the kettle black, Cher. You’re just as drunk as I am.” Remy chuckles, having pulled away for just a split second before you reel him back in again, your skin buzzing with delight from the feeling of his body against yours. His hands drift down to your thighs before he’s hiking one up against his hip.

    So what if you were both a little drunk? To be honest, even if you were sober, you knew that the two of you would still have ended up in the same place you are now- smoochin.

Quicksilver

    “We really need to get going.” You say, and yet you’re still kissing Pietro, holding onto his tie that he hadn’t even been able to put on before the two of you had gotten carried away. He snorts a laugh against your lips, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist in a split second, his lips hardly leaving yours the entire time.

    “To what? Father’s stupid gala? We have plenty of time.” Pietro sighs, pressing his forehead against your own, pretty, white lashes resting against his cheekbones with his eyes still closed. “I’ll just zip us over when we’re done.” He says, walking you over to your desk where he sets you down- french kissing you the entire way there. You hardly have time to pull away and breathe to respond to him.

     “Believe me, Speedy, if we don’t get going, we’re going to be here all night.”

[comicaurora]

I’ve repeatedly seen you say that you can’t read any Aurora fanfiction “for legal reasons”. I assumed this was a joke and you’d just resolved to yourself not to read any that might change where you take the story (understandable), but the more I see you say it, the more I wonder if there’s actually a legitimate legal reason. So forgive my inability to pick up on humor sometimes— is that a joke? And if it’s not, could you elaborate a bit on those reasons?

I am not a lawyer so I only have a layman's grasp of this, but as I understand it, if I read a fanfic, think "oh that's a cool idea" and consciously or unconsciously integrate it into my future work, that ensnares me and the fanfic author in a terrible tangle of mutual theft.

Technically, fanfiction exists in an extreme legal gray area, and in the early days of the internet, authors were very litigious towards their fans using their work. In the same way that Disney will get on your ass for putting Mickey Mouse in your work, any author has the same legal ownership of their characters, and they can choose to exercise it. Some famously have, like Anne Rice, but most nowadays do not. Fandom is understood to be a beneficial ecosystem for a creator to cultivate. Most creators Pretend They Do Not See It so it can continue to exist.

But suppose you wrote a fanfic about Aurora where something cool happened, and then a few chapters later, your story showed up in Aurora itself. Maybe even with some lines ripped verbatim, for even less plausible deniability. Oh shit - you've been robbed. But your story was fanfiction to begin with, only loosely permitted to exist with the understanding that you didn't own the setting or characters used. In this scenario, I stole your work, but it was work you made out of MY work in the first place. If you got mad and litigious, the legality of fanfiction itself would immediately take center stage in the argument. Do you have a right to your work when you made it out of MY work without permission? Do I have the right to take work that was made out of my work and use it without credit? The fact that I think fanfiction is a great and fun art form has no bearing on the fact that, technically, it is IP theft. And the fact that it IS IP theft has no bearing on the fact that me seeing a cool idea in a fanfic and going "mine now" would still be a shitty thing to do.

But things can get muddier. Suppose you write an Aurora fanfic where events A, B and C happen, and then over the next several chapters of Aurora, A, B and C happen. Did I steal ideas from your fanfiction? Maybe, but it's also possible that I had A, B and C planned out beforehand, and you put them in your fanfiction because you picked up the foreshadowing and prep I was putting down. You could still be mad about it, but there's a very real possibility that in this scenario the only thing I'd be guilty of was Good Foreshadowing.

In this situation, if you got mad and litigious about it, my best defense would be ignorance. I couldn't have stolen your fanfiction because I never read it. There is absolutely no chance that I was influenced by your work; I've never even laid eyes on it.

And that is why I don't read Aurora fanfiction.

[bejeweledblondie]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

[bellaxgiornata]

Letters from the Outside 1:| The First Letter

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.7k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; prison!Jax, bit of sunshine/grumpy dynamic, prison pen pals, fluff, angst, mentions of violence, potential smut, canon-divergence, mentions of Reader having a brother, mainly short pieces about Jax and Reader's letter correspondence

Summary: When Lowen encourages Jax and the other incarcerated Sons to enroll in Stockton Prison's new program, Wire of Hope, in order to increase their odds of parole, Jax thinks it's absolute bullshit. Hoping to get back home sooner, he signs up anyway. But what he doesn't expect is how quickly he begins to look forward to your letters.

a/n: I've had this idea in my head since December before I even started writing for Jax. These are mostly short installments because it's mainly centered around their letters, but there will be moments we get more than that. And there may be more to Reader than what we first see... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989 @callmesev @secretlysamcro

A slight sheen of sweat coated Jax’s brow as his breath came in sharp pants. Loose strands of his shaggy hair fell into his face, a few of the blonde pieces clinging to the dampness along his forehead as he continued the repetitive motion of his push-ups. 

There wasn't much else to do in here. He'd already had breakfast earlier, and time in the yard didn't happen until after lunch. His work assignment in the laundry facility with Opie didn’t start until just before dinner, so for now, all he had were the same three fucking walls and the damn cell doors that overlooked the cell across the hall from him for entertainment. And unfortunately the cell across the hall held some scrawny ass by the name of Moore who jerked off far more frequently than Jax would’ve liked to be forced to overhear. 

As he continued his push-ups, Jax heard the loud buzz through the cell block which meant guards were making their way through. He’d been in here so long now that he’d barely noticed the noise, his attention currently on counting his push-ups and pacing his breathing. He’d been so focused that the sound of someone roughly smacking the metal bars of his cell door startled him, causing his head to whip up as he’d pushed up from the dirty floor.

A guard was standing outside of his cell, someone that Jax quickly recognized as one of the few who often delivered the daily mail. He was standing just past the metal bars with the usual large, black mail cart in front of him. In his hand he was holding a white envelope.

“Teller,” he said, sounding bored. “You’ve got mail.”

The guard didn't even bother waiting for a response, his expression neutral as he chucked the thin envelope through the bars. Jax watched as it flew to the floor and slid across the cement. The letter stopped just beneath his small, pathetic excuse of a bed as the guard continued on, pushing the mail cart down the corridor. 

Jax's attention shifted to the letter, staring down at where it was now half-hidden beneath his bed in confusion, his body still held in a push-up. Since when the fuck did he get mail? If one of the guys not locked up needed to reach him, they found a way to call or pass him a message. Gemma frequently came out to visit him whenever she could, usually bringing Abel with her. She'd laugh at just the absurd fucking idea of sitting down and writing him something. And if their lawyer, Lowen, needed to contact him, she'd just make an appointment.

Sitting back on his heels, Jax ran his forearm across his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat that had accumulated there during his workout. His chest still heaving from the exercise, he continued to suspiciously eye the letter on the floor. 

Who the fuck was that from?

Exhaling roughly, he pushed himself up from the floor and walked over to his bed. With one hand flat against the mattress, Jax bent down and grabbed the envelope from where it was laying. Vaguely he noticed how it had been opened already for prison security to examine it first. With his brows pinched together, he studied the writing on the outside of the envelope, not recognizing the script. 

“The fuck?” he muttered to himself.

Reaching his fingers inside, Jax pulled out a single sheet of slightly off-white paper that was folded neatly into thirds. Sitting down on the edge of his stiff mattress, his breath still coming in hard, he unfolded the paper. One of his brows gradually rose on his forehead as he saw that the page was three-quarters of the way filled with pristine handwriting. As if someone had taken their time writing it. 

“What…?”

Completely confused, Jax focused on the top of the page. Hunched forward on the bed, he rested his elbows on his thighs and began to read the letter.

Hello to whoever is reading this,

Apparently you're the one fortunate enough to be assigned to me for Stockton's Wire for Hope program.

Jax paused and lowered the paper, running a hand across his forehead and brushing away a few loose blonde hairs still clinging to his damp skin. So that's what this was, that goddamn pen pal bullshit Lowen had talked him and the guys into doing. She'd told them it would look good when they applied for parole. Make it seem as if they were trying to rehabilitate and form meaningful connections or some bullshit.��

And apparently this pathetic dumbass was who he'd be stuck writing to for the foreseeable future while he was locked up. 

“Goddammit,” he muttered.

Looking back down at the paper in his hand, he contemplated crumpling it up in his fist and chucking it out into the hall. He didn't have to read it, he could just scribble some bullshit onto paper and have it sent to you. Just participating in the stupid program was enough.

But as he stared at the neat writing on the page, he knew he didn't have anything else to do right now. It wouldn't kill him to just read the few stupid paragraphs you'd written. He was bored as hell anyway.

If you're reading this far, I'm guessing you resisted the urge to tear this into shreds. Because I get it, this whole program probably seems completely fucking stupid, right? And I'm well aware that most of the inmates in the program are probably just doing it solely for the increased chances of parole. Creates a good image and all that. 

An amused huff fell out of Jax as he read. At least you weren't a complete naive dumbass. But you were still dumb enough to be writing inmates in the first place.

And that's fine. But I also imagine you're bored as shit in there. Only so many times you can attempt to make wine in your toilet, right?

That was a joke. But if you're turning into a toilet sommelier over there, maybe you've found yourself a new hobby for when you get out.

That was also a joke.

Despite himself, Jax chuckled at your terrible prison humor. Who the fuck had they paired him up with for this shit?

Honestly, I've never done one of these programs before. And since I'm the one writing first, I don't really know what to start with here. Can you tell? It's really awkward trying to begin a letter to a complete stranger.

I guess maybe I should tell you some things about myself, right? But don't expect anything too personal because I'm not about to give you my home address or anything. You're still some strange, incarcerated man after all.

“So you have some semblance of sanity, at least,” Jax murmured condescendingly to the letter. “Good for you, darlin’.”

I'm not really that interesting, as you’ve probably already gathered yourself. Certainly not the type to land myself serving time in a state prison. I'm more the type to be reading a book (something I imagine you're probably doing a lot of from sheer boredom), cooking and baking, or spending time in my garden. Wholesome shit. Things I bet you're sitting there rolling your eyes at. Because you are, aren’t you?

“Sure seem pretty aware of your audience,” he muttered dryly to the paper.

Anyway, I like to think I'm funny, but I suppose my humor grows on you. Or so my brother has often told me. 

“Think your brother is a bit biased, giggles,” Jax grumbled.

And he often says I talk too much. So I'm trying not to ramble, but somehow you're still reading this. Though I guess…what else are you going to do, right? Your options are sadly limited in there.

But who knows? Maybe this whole stupid pen pal program will end up being more beneficial than you probably first thought. Or at least, maybe it might provide you some brief entertainment while you're stuck serving time. I'm not sure if you're someone who gets visitors, but having someone talk to you like you aren't some caged animal might at least be nice. But what do I know? I've never personally been incarcerated. Though from my knowledge, the guards treat you like less than human, and I can't imagine how that weighs on a person over time.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax muttered to himself. “You tryin’ to be my fucking therapist now, giggles?”

Okay maybe I should just end this here. I feel like I'm just going to start rambling if I don't, and I'm sure you don't want me to bore you.

“Too fucking late for that,” he muttered, still reading.

Feel free to write about whatever you want in response, but I wouldn't mind learning a bit about who I'm writing to. I would actually like the opportunity to get to know whoever you are–that is the point of this, after all. Though I imagine you're going to give me some false name with some false backstory. But you know what? I like stories, so go ahead and make up some interesting bullshit. I'll still happily read it even if you claim to have a peg leg, an eye patch, and a pet parrot.

The letter ended abruptly there with your first name. Jax found himself staring at the paper in his hands for a long moment, wondering what the fuck he'd just read. You sounded so much like…not the kind of person he'd ever find himself having a conversation with. Ever. Outside of this goddamn pen pal program, you and him would never interact. You had nothing in common. Flowers and baking? Who the fuck were you, Martha Stewart? 

He set the letter down next to him on the mattress before running a hand down his face. You sounded too fucking sweet to be writing to shitheads like himself in prison . He already knew he'd offend you with whatever he wrote back. Because it was an absolute joke that he could form some sort of “friendship” with some girl like you through letters. But he knew he had to participate for it to count as him being active in the program. 

“Fucking Lowen,” Jax grumbled to himself. “This shit better get me parole.”

[otaku553]

Straw hat women redesigns :) I was trying to doodle some of the crew and came to the realization that I just Could Not with Nami so I wanted to play around with it a little bit

Some more design notes below:

Nami’s design actually went a lot smoother for me than Robin’s! I think canon post timeskip Nami is a very low bar. While you can argue that to some extent Nami being vain and seductive is part of her character, I do feel that there are many more integral parts of her character that can be highlighted in her design, namely map making and her combat. Though not one of the stronger straw hats, Nami does seem to be well practiced with her staff outside of its use for weather manipulation, and I think her being a physical combatant, even slightly, can be better reflected with more loose clothing for better mobility.

For her mapmaking, I wanted her to have constant easy access to her tools and to information about the locale, so around her waist she has one large pouch at the back for books and scrolls and maps in progress and one small pouch to the side for writing utensils and measurement tools. As backup she also has 2 pens in her bun, which also act as pins for keeping her hair up if she ever needs to move a lot.

I’m not sure how clearly it shows up in the notes, but Nami’s shoe soles are also made from whatever artificial cloud material makes up the weather island she stayed on during the timeskip, so that it both pads her steps to make them soundless and bounces for better mobility. The shoes are naturally shaped like heels but without the actual heel, since she tends to move around on tiptoes anyways- a nod to her epithet as cat burglar and her past as a thief.

I made her shoulders a bit broader because I think they probably get a lot of exercise with her staff, and changed out the bikini top for a more supportive chest wrap, with a loose tank over it for breathability. The compression socks and sleeve are more stylistic than anything, since I like layers, but they might come in handy for her if she spends extended amounts of time sitting down making maps for the crew.

Robin’s was a bit more difficult for me to figure out, and I might go back and revisit it at some point. For Nami, it was a bit easier to imagine what would pair well with her combat methods and her needs as a mapmaker, but with Robin, she’s an academic who fights almost completely hands off, without a specific weapon to her name. Because her strength lies mostly in her devil fruit, she has a bit more room for style over functionality, but I also still wanted her to have something that made sense with what she was. I don’t really think I succeeded in that regard, but it’s also hard to convey what she does visually— she’s more of like a professor than a field archaeologist I think.

I really really enjoy her cowboy hat but I didn’t think it would match with the rest of the outfit so I switched it out for a wider brimmed hat and kept the orange sunglasses on it, as a nod to the revolutionaries with the combination of headwear and eyewear. She deserves a trench coat. I don’t make the rules. And the rest of the fit mostly came down to things I think I would enjoy wearing, haha

The trench coat is partially a nod to the scholars of ohara, who seem to wear white coats like lab coats in some screenshots of robin’s backstory. I think also the reading glasses help to make her seem a bit more academic, but aren’t prominent enough to leave a strong impression. All in all I do wish robin’s design had more functionality in it but I also think that robin is a character who probably enjoys dressing up nicely like this, especially in the comfort and stability of the straw hats.

[ghostlycamil4]

Hii!! Can u pls write a masked reader where no one in the class has seen her face before but one day she finally reveals it and Bakugo just goes like “oh damn they’re pretty” or smth so he falls for her thankiess 💕

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝐻𝑒'𝑠 𝐼𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼𝑡 𝑌𝑒𝑡

thank you for being patient with this one, i was trying to find the right quirk that would actually explain why she wears the mask... plus i really wanted that soft, vulnerable moment with her and bakugo to hit just right.

Quirk: Solar Light Reaction.

Her skin absorbs solar energy uncontrollably. If exposed to sunlight, her body begins to overload with energy, leading to pain, fever, or even involuntary explosions. The mask and her full-body suit help regulate this energy and prevent an overload.

Context: Bakugo and Y/n were paired for a special training exercise against a pro hero.

The fight was so intense that Y/n had to push her quirk to the limit. She unleashed a massive amount of energy to secure the victory… but it left her completely drained.

Right after the match ended, she collapsed unconscious in front of everyone.

Recovery Girl walked out, hands clasped behind her back. When she saw him there, so still, she looked at him over her glasses with a raised brow.

"Ah, Bakugo. Something wrong?"

He took half a second to react.

"Tch... No. Nothing. Just…" he cleared his throat, turning his face slightly. "Is she okay?"

She looked at him with a mix of tenderness and restrained surprise. Then she nodded, without losing that look in her eyes that said she’d noticed everything.

"She’s stable. Still unconscious, but no major damage. What she did out there was reckless," she said with a sigh. Then, studying him. "You can go in if you want. Just don’t go yelling and wake her up."

And without waiting for an answer, she walked off down the hallway.

He didn’t move right away. He looked at the open door. Took a deep breath.

And then stepped inside.

Lying on a cot, covered in a blue hospital gown, no trace of her hero costume. Her hair—that was always tied up or hidden under the mask—fell loose over the pillow, messy, wild. He stared at it, confused, like he couldn’t match it with the image he knew.

He took a step.

Then another.

Each one slower than the last.

He didn’t know why, but it felt like he was intruding on something intimate. Like he shouldn’t be there. Like what he was about to see… wasn’t meant for him.

But then he saw you.

Your face. Full. For the first time.

And all the noise in his head went silent.

You weren’t just pretty. No. That wasn’t it. There was something in the way your features rested, in how your slightly parted lips breathed slow, in how your skin, now free from the pressure of hiding, looked so fucking perfect.

And your face… your face was a secret the whole damn world was missing out on.

"Shit… " he muttered under his breath, like a thought that slipped out by accident.

And then, you opened your eyes.

Quick. Instinctive. Like his presence had triggered a reflex.

Your gaze caught his immediately. He flinched a little, took a step back, but couldn’t look away from your eyes.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. Your voice was hoarse from sleep, but firm. Direct.

Bakugo swallowed hard.

He had no answer.

Not a single useful word in his head.

He could only think about what he’d just seen. What he was still seeing.

Your eyes widened. Your hand flew to your face, like you could still hide in time.

"Where is it? Where’s my mask?!" you asked, urgently. You looked around, uneasy, like you felt exposed.

And then he spoke. Almost without thinking.

"Why? You don’t need it."

The tone was rough, but it didn’t sound like a command. More like a complaint. Like it wasn’t fair that you wanted to hide again.

You tried to sit up, pushing with your other hand, but the IV in your arm stopped you. You winced, frustrated. Not from pain, but from helplessness.

"For fuck’s sake, you’re gonna hurt yourself! You crazy or what?!" he suddenly snapped, stepping closer.

Reluctantly, yeah. You lay back down slowly. Though now you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Your cheeks, flushed. And he noticed.

And then, he thought out loud.

"You’re… really damn pretty."

The silence that followed was thick.

Your face changed immediately.

"Excuse me?!" you snapped, turning toward him with annoyance. Your brows furrowed and the blush on your cheeks deepened.

He stared at you a moment more and finally stepped back. He turned toward the door, but just before crossing it, he spoke again:

"You look better without the damn mask. Get used to hearing it."

And then he left.

No dramatics. No extra words.

And you stayed there, heart pounding like your body was soaking up light… of another kind.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[echoasdfghultrakill]

Alright kids, I've worked all evening on compiling this info, so to anyone who needs it:

PROTESTING SAFETY

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

1. Preparation:

- Do not wear any accessories or anything identifiable. If you have tattoos or piercings, cover them up and hide them. Do NOT use makeup to cover them up either. In fact, don't wear makeup at all in ANY capacity, especially on the face, because it makes gases and sprays WORSE. Avoid jewerly entirely as it can be grabbed onto or traced back to you.

- Wear long sleeve shirts and pants and running shoes, CLOSED TOES, preferably all gray or black or all one singular (nonbright) color, neutrals. Avoid loose clothing and drawstrings. Wear head coverings, even more so if you have dyed hair. Nothing eye-catching, no slogans or logos, no customized or political clothing, nothing identifiable or unique that can be traced back to you. Wear head coverings that cover the entire head, including your ears, nose, and mouth.

- Make sure you can run in your outfit, just in case

- ***DO NOT WEAR CONTACTS, WEAR GLASSES INSTEAD***

I CANNOT stress that enough. If you wear glasses, make sure they're secure and cannot fall off easy.

- Helmets or elbow and knee patches are good for general safety but wear nothing that limits movement. Also, WEAR GOGGLES, but in a pinch firearm safety glasses of some kind can work. some sort of mask covering for your nose and mouth for, again, gases and sprays. A regular covid mask underneath a balaclava or bandana is better than nothing

- An extra note to medics: DO NOT wear anything that designates you publicly as a medic. A known medic is a targeted one. Only make it known you're a medic through word of mouth, **please**

- Write energency phone numbers on your body somewhere hidden, keep your ID and cash on you in a shoe or something but don't bring a wallet. If you have to bring a phone keep it shut down the entire time until you are far from the location the protest is happening, keep your biometrics and face ID off, turn off location services and if you take photo or video erase the metadata even if you don't plan on posting it.

- There are typically jail support and legal aid for protesters, find whats specific to your area and write their number. If you can get a lawyer, write their number down, too.

- PREFERABLY* go with a friend. Keep a designated meet up spot away from the protest to run to if things go south. If you are alone? get a buddy or make a friend at the protest so you both have someone to fall back on, and make it known to others that you are alone so they can watch out for you. If anything else, make sure at least 1 other person not at the protest knows where you are.

- Have backup meet-up spots in case of them being compromised, set up check-ins, too.

- KNOW YOUR RIGHTS BEFOREHAND, be prepared to exercise them

AGAIN on phones:

- have location data and airdrop turned off, AND in airplane mode because it can still ping towers with it off. Consider a faraday bag, if you can.

- turn off biometrics or face ID, cops can force you to open your phone. Again, preferably, keep it turned off

- burner phones are often registered with identifiable information so I don't recommend it, but if you can get it under someone else's information especially if they aren't going to be with yoy at the protest *with their consent

- if you are going to take video or photos for any reason, get CONSENT FIRST. Do NOT post anything in the moment. Only after the protest has concluded and once you've wiped the metadata. (And no, that screenshotting trick doesn't always work).

- use encrypted messaging, no socials, no texting, no phone calls. Verbal communication face to face is best

- while im on that topic: dont post anything beforehand either. Dont sign up to things on facebook, don't RSVP, and definitely don't post anywhere on social media that you're attending.

- Beforehand, look at maps of the area. Know your routes and exits.

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

1.5. supplies:

- WATER WATER WATER, enough to stay hydrated AND to flush your eyes

- backpack or something secure AND crossbody to carry supplies in, one that doesnt limit movement and can't be pulled off easy

- umbrellas block projectiles, use them

- earplugs or eardefenders, *(do not get completely noise cancling because you still need to be aware of your surroundings)*

- some sort of snacks (not sugary, preferably): peanut butter crackers, slim jim, crackers, granola, trail mix, etc

- sunscreen, if not for you then someone else

- basic prepacked medkit supplies, bandages and gauze, if nothing else

- gloves (heat safe, oven mitts work too. They're for handling canisters thrown your way safely)

- BAIL MONEY, stored somewhere safe, probably in your shoes. Even if you intend on being peaceful, even if you don't do anything illegal or plan on it. They *will* still try to arrest you anyways.

- a change of clothes for afterward, both so you have clean, uncontaminated clothes, and so you're less likely to be identified after

- Whistle (noisemaker and you won't lose your voice as easily. Also, it's good for if you've been injured or need to call out for help)

- Sharpie to write on yourself if needed, notepad can be used to record badge numbers in future court cases

- card with crucial medical information such as blood type, disabilities, allergies, or other needs stashed somewhere on the chance of a medical emergency or being hospitalized.

Medic specific supplies:

- everything above^

- Water

- saline solution (found at wallgreens or walmart in eye sections, didinfectant and can be used to clear tear gas)

*note: I wouldn't recommend baby shampoo because it often had fragrances which can hurt more or damage your eyes, and sometimes oils too which can make it worse)

- safety scissors

- butterfly bandages and bandaids

- alcohol wipes and q-tips

- neosporin

- *latex free* gloves

- guaze

- tampons and pads to pack wounds

- duct tape

- emergency blanket

- did I mention WATER

- Extras of anything you can spare for those who are less prepared

IF YOU ARE BRINGING ANY FLAGS

- i urge you to bring American flags. Anything else and the media coverage can be twisted as an 'Us vs. Mexico" or "Us vs. Trans people". American flags let them know undeniably that no matter how they try to twist the narrative: *this is happening to U.S. citizens*

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2: While you're there

- Keep an EYE ON YOUR SURROUNDINGS. Exercise spatial awareness, keep an eye on the crowd and out of the crowd. This is easier said than done if you dont have a buddy, so I really recommend finding someone to group with.

- I recommend staying on the outskirts if you can. Avoid dark and enclosed areas in exchange for open and well lit ones. Watch out for infiltrators there to insight violence and agitate crowds, or undercover cops.

- DO NOT PANIC OR RUN, DO NOT SCREAM. It takes one person to make an entire group panic, and that can lead to violence, stampedes, crowd crushes... stay calm and react accordingly.

- Panicking can be read as aggression too, so all the more reason to stay calm. Alongside with that: do NOT be innebriated. Do not do drugs, do not drink alcohol. Stay sober, stay aware.

- If you are recording: narrate loud and clealy, narrate the time and date, the location, the events before and during recording. Footage is evidence that can be used in court. Blur and obscure faces with multiple methods

- If things get violent or go south, distance yourself and find somewhere to regroup. Be prepared to protect yourself, have umbrellas ready in defense of being shot at. I cannot stress this enough but 'rubber' bullets (metal encased in rubber btw) can still maim and kill. The police often shoot directly at people without regard for safety. Be careful.

- If police begin to surround and barricade your group, you are being locked in a *kettle*. (Yes, even if it's illegal in your state) They may keep you there for an extended period of time or attempt to arrest everyone. The safest way out if you see it coming back the way you came. Do NOT talk to the cops under any circumstances.

- If nobody talks, everybody walks

- if you are arrested, be prepared to exercise your rights and speak clearly. Not speaking clearly gives them cause to ignore you or take your words differently than what they mean because they have to obey the word and not the spirit of the law.

- if you are detained: "I am exercising my right to remain silent, I will not speak without an attorney present."

- They can't make you say shit without one, so do not say shit without one, no matter what they say. (Eventually) they will be forced to comply.

if tear gas cannisters are thrown:

- please note that throwing them back is a felony, do so only at your own risk

- USE HEAT SAFE GLOVES TO HANDLE, or else you WILL get burned

- COVER AND SMOTHER is the way to go. Pot lids or garbage can lids are great. Pouring water on them helps a lot

- SALINE IS BETTER THAN MILK BUT MILK IS BETTER THAN NOTHING. Saline is much more sterile and effective. Antacid mixtures are a safe backup, water is fine and milk is a last resort option.

- do not rub your eyes, blink and let your tear ducts do the work to flush them out or you will spread it further and deeper

- do not use oils or lotions to decontaminate your skin, breathe slowly, do not scream

- when/if you can, rinse yourself down with water

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3: afterwards...

- decontaminate yourself. Take your clothes off, especially if you've been gassed, and leave them at the door of your home and head to the shower in a palstic bag or trash bag.

- Shower with COLD water. Hot water opens pores and worsens chemical absorption. Rinse eyes and face first, wash your hair THOROUGHLY

- unscented soaps, fragrance oils can worsen contamination

- wash your clothes entirely seperated from your laundry and don't forget to include the afformentioned gloves/oven mitts if also contaminated. Wash on cold water

- DOCUMENT YOUR INJURIES including date, time, severity, and other details. Pictures too. Do a full body survery to make sure nothing is missed.

- Back up all footage and data to somewhere encrypted, preserve the original metadata for court and legal use only, and wipe everything completly of metadata and CENSOR FACES to anything shared publicly. If you're device was handled by the police change your passcode

- while the memories are fresh document everything, a timeline of events, crowd control tactics used, badge numbers of the officers, anything and everything and share only with a legal observer.

- Make sure to calm down and decompress. Check in with others, and yourself too. Hydrate, eat a full meal, get some rest

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3.5: If you are..

Arrested:

- to reitterate: do NOT speak to cops. Do NOT speak without a lawyer. KNOW AND EXERCISE YOUR RIGHTS

- If you are under 18 do not speak without a legal guardian, even with a lawyer present, if you can

- if you are injured during your arrest, report it upon arrival to jail. If they refuse care, insist that they document the refusal and note name, date, and time

- if you are assaulted or mistreated in your time there you can report it to legal aid organizations

- REMEMBER: "I am invoking my right to remain silent and my right to an attorney." Repeat as many times as needed

- if you get a phone call, either your emergency contact written on yourself or a jail support hotline is your first priority

- Do not unlock any devices if you can help it

- Upon release, get copies of everything and DOCUMENT. I can't stress that enough

Hospitalized/EMS:

- be honest with them. They don't have to tell the cops shit, they just want to know everything they need to treat you accordingly. Don't lie to them and it'll make their jobs easier.

- Again: THEY ARE NOT THE COPS. BE HONEST WITH THEM.

- ask for your treatment and injuries to be documented, this will help on future court cases as evidence.

- designate a release contact and make sure to follow up on care for anything serious.

I think that officially covers everything I can think of but if anyone has something to add dm me and let me know. I will update this as I find more information, and will get to work on making a better formatted version to print out when I can. Spread this as much as possible and repost wherever.

Stay safe everyone.