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lovebugism · 1 year

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hi hello "love you on purpose" absolutely devasted me with it's cuteness and i cannot wait for part two!!!! 💗

✶ ┄ LOVE YOU, ON PURPOSE (ii)

part one | part two

summary: steve can't seem to stay away from the local freaks. he's more surprised to find himself falling for one of them. you have trouble believing that someone like him could want you in the first place. he wants to prove to you that he's not king steve anymore. (18k)

pairing: steve harrington / eddie's bff!reader

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, slight angst, hurt to comfort (sorta), fem!reader TW smut 18+, lots of intimacy and affection and awkwardness, p in v sex, talks of insecurities, reader has an allison reynolds-esque transformation but with a better ending (outfit inspo x, x), probable typos

a/n: welp. here it is. the final part of this 30k+ word fic. it was very fun and very painful to write and i'm very glad it's finally done and out in the world! thanks for all the love on the first part btw reading all the feedback has easily been my favorite part of writing this <3 with that being said, get comfy, get a snack, and enjoy! xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Falling over you is the news of the day.

If yearning had a shape, you’re pretty sure it’d look an awful lot like you.

The clumsiest of humans, fresh into her adulthood but still feeling like a child most days. Soaking wet, born yesterday. A caterpillar weaving her cocoon and trying to figure out where she fits in the world. The girl who decides she belongs right next to this big, boisterous, multi-colored butterfly she couldn’t stand a year or more ago.

And Steve Harrington, he was… Well, he was the kind of poem people spend their entire lives trying to write.

He was the perfect mixture of beauty and warmth, of mystery and obscurity — the line where the pink of a sunset meets the purple of a starry night. He was all of this rolled up into a twenty-something-year-old boy. A fumbling butterfly that’s getting used to his new wings.

Maybe if you were talented enough, you could write the thing yourself. There’s something powerful in knowing that you could compose some dainty requiem so much bigger than yourself. A beautiful thing that would stand the test of time because there would never be anything else like it.

It wouldn’t be because of you, though. You passed Ms. O’Donnell’s English class by the skin of your teeth, so your writing leaves much to be desired. It would be your muse that would enamor the masses come the next several centuries, because there will never, ever be another Steve Harrington.

At the very core of this poem would read a universal truth: I have fallen in love with his enigmatic being, and now I’m dealing with the consequences.

Well, you’re trying to deal with them, at least. You’re not having a very easy go at it.

Most of the time, you feel like a thousand bricks have piled on top of you. The jagged edges scrape up your arms and press varying shades of purple into your skin. They crush you underneath their weight, but you don’t try too hard to climb out from under them. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

You feel a little stuck underneath all the feelings you have for Steve.

You’re not quite sure what to do with them all. They’re too heavy to lift; there’s too much of them to crawl out. It all leaves you feeling a bit trapped.

It’s a good kind of trapped, though.

Once the hurt passes, the weight starts to feel like you’re being swaddled in a blanket. Or a cocoon.

As scared as it makes you, as overwhelmed as you feel, you don’t want this puppy-like adoration to end.

But sometimes, the scrapes sting more than they usually do. The scabs split and start to weep. The faded bruises turn purple again, then to blue and black, and they ache all over. They remind you that girls like you don’t end up with guys like Steve, and the harsh realization turns the comforting weight of being in love into feeling like you’re being buried alive.

Steve is a pretty boy. He’s a rich, prettyboy who wears vintage jeans and drives a new Beemer and has never wanted for anything in his life.

And you’re… whatever the total opposite of that is.

You wear whatever’s cheapest at the thrift store or what Eddie lets you steal from his closet. You drive a rust bucket that belonged to your dad until he lost his license, so the thing practically rotted in the backyard until you got yours. And all you’ve ever done is want for things because you’ve never had anything.

And the one thing you want the most is something you’ve never been able to admit to anyone. Not even Eddie. Not even yourself.

Screw new clothes or a car fresh off the lot. You don’t want popularity — you don’t even want money (though it certainly wouldn’t hurt). You want so desperately to be loved that it makes your bones ache.

All you want is someone to hold your wrists and kiss your palms, to cradle you when the thunder is too loud and the cracks of lightning make you shake, to be a hiding place where you can keep every secret and be certain it stays safe.

You want someone to smile at you the way Steve smiles at you. You want to feel held the way he makes you feel held — without ever touching you. You want to feel wanted the way he makes you feel wanted.

You want Steve.

And you’re not sure how long silly love songs will substitute your yearning.

“What do you think about Steve?” you ask Eddie out of the blue.

He was in the middle of a rant about his latest campaign, but you hadn’t heard a single word of it if you’re honest. The butterflies in your stomach were too loud.

The boy sits across the room at his desk, back hunched, while he scribbles ideas into his tattered Dungeons and Dragons composition journal. You’re sprawled out in the middle of his bed like you have been for the past hour, making constellations of Steve’s face from the marks on his ceiling.

“I think he’s an asshole,” Eddie answers without missing a beat.

It makes you roll your eyes. You shouldn’t have expected anything less out of him, really. You toy with the frayed hem of your crop top and rephrase. “Okay, but do you think he likes me?”

“I know he likes you,” he scoffs. “That’s the problem.”

You smile widely to yourself, then purse your lips to the side to keep it hidden. There’s no one looking to see you grinning like an idiot, but it doesn’t make you feel any less like one.

“He wants to take me on a date tonight,” you confess out loud for the first time.

It wasn’t like you to keep something like that from Eddie. Or anything. At all. But you found yourself hiding it like some kind of dark secret. A distant part of you was terrified that it was all in your head, but it’s been three days since Steve asked you now. Which means you’ve spent three days pinching yourself.

You haven’t woken up yet.

“Like, a date date,” you clarify and rise on your elbows to study the boy across the room.

You feel the need to explain yourself because movie nights and rides around town and hanging out in the break room after closing don’t feel nearly as serious as Steve wining and dining you. It feels much more official now, as though the line between liking someone and like-liking them has been drawn.

“And I’ve never been on a date date before—”

“What about the one time you went out with, uh…” Eddie trails off as he aggressively erases something on his paper. He stills and squints over his shoulder at you. “What was his name? Matt? Marcus?”

“Mason,” you correct and try not to shudder at the memory. “And I left him at the restaurant because he asked me how big my boobs were within the first ten minutes, so he doesn’t count.”

A grin pulls at the boy’s face. He chuckles to himself. “Oh, yeah.”

“And I know I shouldn’t be so nervous about it ‘cause it’s just a dumb date, like… We’ve been alone together a billion times now, you know? It’s just…” you ramble in one breath, then trail off with a huff. You flop back onto the mattress rather dramatically. “Steve Harrington doesn’t date girls like me. He dates girls like Nancy Wheeler. And, as far as I’m concerned, they were a matching made in fucking heaven— I mean, I didn’t know them back then or anything—”

“Obviously,” Eddie murmurs. “That was a train wreck.”

“—But they looked fucking perfect together, Eds!”

The image of them walking the hallways of Hawkins High isn’t hard to picture. You can still see Nancy in her pretty pleated skirt and pink manicured nails and Steve with his stupid hair and brand new Ray-Bans. They owned the school like their parents owned Hawkins — it was practically kismet.

You try to picture him and you together, and it doesn’t come as effortlessly.

It’s like trying to wedge pieces from opposites puzzles together; it just doesn’t work.

And it’s different from anyone Steve’s ever dated. It’s different from anyone you’ve ever dated. People look at him and his pretty girlfriend and gush, “oh, wow, they look good together.” People look at you and a guy with smudged eyeliner and heeled boots and whisper in disgust, “oh god, they deserve each other.”

You won’t get any of the kindness that Steve is used to, only stares from strangers as they try hopelessly to figure out whether or not you’re dating — because surely, he wouldn’t stoop low enough to date someone like you.

“And I don’t wanna…” you waver, trying and failing to put your fears into words. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just scared.”

Eddie shakes his head to himself. “You don’t need to be scared, okay?” he mumbles, his attention still turned down to his notebook.

“Oh, thanks, Eds. I’m cured,” you monotone.

“I just mean that—” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh and swivels in his chair to face you completely. “Steve’s a douchebag, alright? But he’s a good douchebag.”

Your brows furrow. “…What?”

“He used to be an asshole and everything, but… I don’t know, I guess he turned out to be a pretty good guy— and if you tell him I told you that, I will kill you,” Eddie explains in one breath. The half-hearted threat spills from his mouth,and he goes suddenly soft. “He’s not gonna hurt you, okay? I promise. I mean, the guy’s practically a fucking teddy bear.”

A smile pulls slow at your lips.

It’s the nicest thing you’ve ever heard him say about Steve, despite having been friends with him for nearly a year now. The foreign kindness comforts you well enough. If Eddie didn’t think Steve was every bit the good douchebag he says he is, there’s no way he’d let you go anywhere near him.

“Yeah?” you mutter.

“Yeah,” he echoes with a huff, obviously upset about having to admit such a truth. Then he shrugs. “And if he does hurt you, I’ll beat him up. Which, with his track record, I’m guessing it wouldn’t be too difficult.”

A laugh tumbles from your mouth. “Thanks for looking out, Eds.”

He only grumbles in response.

And even though he complains the entire time, he drops you back off at your place and helps you agonize over what to wear. He sits on your bathroom counter to keep you company while you shower, then holds your makeup bag in his lap while you get ready. He only comments once about how differently you’re doing it.

Then the boy lounges on your bed, legs crossed and back propped on the headboard while you rifle through your closet. In true Eddie Munson fashion, he’s got something to say about everything you pick out.

Your white sweater is too tight, he tells you, and the fuzzy texture feels too weird. The plaid skirt you pull from the depths of your closet is too “christmas-y” and “totally not your color.” He tells you he likes your boots better as he helps you with the finicky buckle of your Mary Janes, then snaps the band of your knee-highs when he stands again.

Eddie tells you all of this because it’s easier to tease you than to say what he really thinks — that it feels like you’re in high school again and trying out styles that don’t suit you.

He loved you the way you were, in black and leather and silver chains and fishnets, because he knew that’s what you felt good in. You found your identity in your unconventional style and you sparkled in it.

And you were still pretty like this, dressed in brighter colors and looking like the girls that used to bully you in high school, but it’s so obviously not you. More than anything, it irks him that you’re doing all of this for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

But Eddie knows that you’re nervous — he can tell by the way you’re talking a thousand miles a minute and checking your appearance in the mirror every couple seconds like something might’ve changed. He also knows that you’re still skeptical about this whole thing. Because you have no idea that Steve looks at you like the whole world could crumble around him, and he wouldn’t even blink.

You don’t know that you have nothing to worry about.

So Eddie figures he’ll wait to make fun of you. Save all his teasing remarks for when you’re gushing about the date the next day.

But you’re already aware of all this — how different you look. You hardly recognize yourself when you look in the mirror. You’ve traded in your shades of black for something brighter. Your blowsy hair is clipped back out of your face. Your makeup is more conventional and modest than you’re used to.

You look less like the freak you usually are and more like a wild thing that’s been tamed.

You feel pretty.

Or, at the very least, the idea that Steve will think you’re pretty makes you feel pretty.

It makes all the imposter syndrome worth it.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror and tug the scratchy socks up and over your knee when they start to slip down. You rise once more, giving yourself another once over, then nod in approval — pleased with the costume you’ve put on.

A fleeting through with a mean, green, bleeding heart and a mind of its own scratches bitterly at the confines of your skull.

Eat your heart out, Nancy Wheeler.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The ghost in you, she don't fade.

Steve, riddled with chronic feelings of inadequacy, overcooks the chicken and spritzes too much cologne on himself.

He had always been the kind of boy that loved things a little harder than he should’ve.

Ask any plant he’s ever owned that he accidentally killed with every leaf he overwatered, frightened that anything less would be neglectful. He was always so scared of them dying that he suffocated them until they wilted anyway.

He thought he might’ve grown out of all that until he realized he did the same thing with Nancy.

He squeezed her too tight and she squirmed at his smothering, called him bullshit and pushed him away so she could breathe again, then stomped on his heart until she was certain it stopped beating for her.

And therein lies the state of limbo Steve Harrington has lived in all his life — between loving something too much and not enough. He hasn’t yet found that balance that stops plants from dying and people from running away.

He isn’t quite sure how to be anything other than the man he is now.

His conscious clings to your every move. He thinks about when he’s awake, and when he isn’t, he hopes he’ll be lucky enough to dream about you. He bothers you at work all day, then asks if you want to go for a ride when you’re off because he hates being away from you. The nights get too cold when you stray too far. And even though he’s never been much of a chef, he offers to cook for you because he wants to show you he cares enough to try.

Steve’s the kind of guy that overcooks his chicken because he’s terrified that you’ll get sick if it’s not done enough. He’s the kind of guy that douses himself in cologne, then breaks the bottle because he’s terrified of not smelling good enough. He wants everything to be enough for you.

Steve Harrington, for once in his life, wants to be enough for somebody.

But now all he is, is a stupid boy that never learns, who smells like he’s trying to overcompensate for being a terrible, terrible chef.

When Nancy broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to be this person again. Steve was scared he’d become someone he didn’t recognize — someone who didn’t care enough to water plants because, hey, they’re gonna die anyway, right? Because he gave and gave and gave, and had nothing to show for it but a stupid wilting flower.

Steve made a dark room of his broken heart. A boogeyman lived there, too. It made him scared that he’d never be able to love someone like he loved Nancy.

But then you came out of nowhere — this beautiful, loud, and mysterious thing that exudes every color of the rainbow when she laughs, despite her blacker-than-black wardrobe. You smile at him like you’ve never been hurt, like a sun that’s never known the night. It makes him feel like he can be that too.

The two of you seek a similar solace in one another. You fill each other’s voids without effort and without trying, like puzzle pieces or halves of an orange.

Steve met you and he realized that he didn’t get his ability to love from Nancy. He had always been a lover, a boy who could love something deeply, and that didn’t go away when she broke his heart.

And sometimes it was awful. It was painful and frightening more than it was anything else — love. It was doubtful and envious and distant.

Love makes you selfish and creepy and uncharacteristically overbearing. Love makes you worry about your hair and overcook your chicken and drench yourself in cologne. Love takes a hell of a lot of hope, and that’s what he feels like when he’s with you — hopeful. Like he’s never been hurt before.

A surge of optimism and apprehension hits him like a bolt of purple lightning just behind his ribcage when the doorbell rings. Mostly because he knows you’re waiting on the other side of it. His hands shake when he opens the door, but not because he’s scared. He’s just full of hope and buzzing with its foreign intensity.

Steve finds the rest of his life standing on his front porch, dressed in all the trappings of his past.

You’re smiling wide when you see him, the same whizzing ball of hope that he is now, and clutching a bottle of wine. You’ve traded your usual grocery store alcohol for something bottom shelf from an actual liquor store. The sunshine grin you’re wearing is about the only thing familiar about you now.

With your hair pulled back, brows combed neatly to match the pretty makeup you’ve spotted gingerly on your features, dressed in foreign colors with knee-high socks and kitten heels — you look nothing like yourself. It’s a costume you’ve got on, still so pretty but pretending in some way.

It has Steve startled for a moment, thinking Halloween came a whole six months earlier and he never got the memo. Then he realizes you must’ve gotten all dressed up for him, even though you never had to. Just like he didn’t have to try and play chef to impress you.

Both of you are just stupid idiots who care too much, making it painfully obvious despite your best efforts to keep it hidden.

“Hi,” you grin sheepishly through a foreign, pale pink, and glossy mouth.

Steve’s too busy gaping at you to respond in a timely fashion.

The wind billows through your hair and sends strands of it flying in your face. And even though he can’t remember a time when you’ve ever worried about the wild halo on your head, you’re quick to tuck them back into place again.

With most of it pulled back and combed with obvious intent, your face is left unhidden. Your neck and shoulders and collarbones are too. And you’ve got on this tight sweater and pretty skirt and tall socks that make your legs look longer. All of your usually concealed features are heightened.

The dainty swipes of mascara, eyeshadow, and blush only accentuate them further, though your spots are attentively covered with foundation that isn’t exactly your shade. It’s a bit lighter than your skin tone, like you’d gotten it some time ago when you were still a bit paler.

You look less like the loud, plucky girl he’s come to know and someone more timid, delicate, and polished.

You’re so pretty he damn near forgets how to speak. His tongue swells and every word he could use loses meaning at the sight of you. But it isn’t you, and that only confounds him further.

It’s like you’ve covered yourself in body paint. The real version of you is hidden somewhere underneath it all, glimmering somehow more golden than the flaxen you’re playing pretend in.

When Steve realizes he hasn’t yet answered you, it feels like it’s been ten minutes or more. In reality, no longer than five seconds have gone by.

“Hey,” he greets finally, in an exhale that gets caught in his throat halfway through. He clears it and smiles shakily. “Hi.”

He steps to the side of the doorway and ushers you inside. He wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks when he thinks you aren’t looking, but you catch him in the act when you turn to face him again. Your grin widens and you trap it between your teeth.

“Smells good in here,” you compliment, walking slowly backward with your hands clasped behind your back.

“Thanks,” he accepts your flattery with an awkward hand on his neck. “Yeah, uh— I kinda burnt the chicken a little bit, but everything else should be good. At least, I hope it’s good. It’s kinda hard to mess up a salad, right?”

He laughs under his breath, then starts to ramble without realizing it.

“I’m not the best cook, as it turns out. I mean, I thought I could at least fake it, you know? Fake it ’til you make it, or whatever that bullshit saying is — but there is no faking the tornado I just had in the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve made a bigger mess in my life. But, uh, yeah… And don’t worry! I didn’t put tomatoes in the pasta. Or the salad. Or the sauce. I know you don’t think them, so…”

You’re in the middle of beaming and trying very hard not to laugh when he hits you with that one.

Steve, like you, is having a very hard time shutting up just now. He’s in the same web of nervousness that you’re spun up in too. He’s all tangled and trying to weave words that make sense, though everything things his mouth in half-thoughts.

But then he says something so strangely profound out of nowhere, and it makes your pounding heart stop without warning. He’s just talking about fucking tomatoes, but you understand that — in some weird, roundabout way — that it’s much deeper than that.

You’d told him the mundane little detail in passing some time ago. At the diner, when you picked the fruit from your burger with a grimace on your face. You said it tasted like battery acid and tainted everything it touched. He took it back to the counter when you weren’t brave enough to.

“Here you go, Punchy. Your battery-acid-free burger,” he’d joked when he set the fresh plate in front of you.

And he remembered all that. He tucked that tiny piece of information about you into the very back of his mind so that he could use it to make you happy later on.

That’s adoration at its core, you figure. Somewhere in all those minuscule remember-ings.

“You remembered that?” you wonder aloud in a bemused sort of whisper.

Steve has already moved on. He’s rambling about the broken spout of his cologne bottle but stops the second he realizes he’s doing it.

Of course, I did, scoffs the little voice in his head. I’m sorta obsessed with you, as it turns out.

He doesn’t tell you that, though, for reasons he finds are quite obvious — the most significant of which would be running you off entirely. So instead, he just shrugs and tries to be cool, despite having already established how terribly uncool he is.

“Yeah. I remember everything.”

When the two of you settle at the dining table, Steve realizes he’s eaten most of his dinners alone until now.

His parents stopped caring sometime around middle school. His dad got too busy with work, started staying after-hours to catch up on paperwork or screw his secretary. And his mom didn’t care because she was too busy getting wine-drunk on the phone with whatever book club friend that was just as miserable as she was.

Steve would fork at his cold pad thai while he listened to his mother’s muffled rant about who went where and who wore a hat.

He couldn’t find it in himself to eat in his room. The empty dinner table was the only sort of stable routine he had in the swirling uncertainty of being a teenage boy.

But now he’s got you.

He hopes he never stops having you. He doesn’t want to go back to being alone like that again, not after he’s found someone that can fill an entire room with their laugh.

The cackle you let out at Steve’s terrible, terrible cheese pun — “yeah, I guess you could say I cooked this all on my provol-own — echoes through the dining room. Even though he knows you’re laughing at him and not exactly with him, he figures it’s a small price to pay to keep hearing such a heavenly sound.

It reminds him of the real you, the one underneath all the foreign regalia.

The rays of your usual sunshine peek from the clouds you hide behind. You’re way too bright to stay hidden.

Steve can tell you’re watching his every move. You eye him from across the table with the intent of doing everything he’s doing, lest you might do something wrong. He puts his napkin in his lap, so you put your napkin your lap. He cuts his chicken with his fork and knife, so you cut your chicken with a fork and knife — though you quickly realize you’re not quite as dexterous as he is for all that.

It’s endearing. The kind of cute that makes his heart hurt just a little bit. He hides his smile and happily abandons the conventional things he’d been taught to do. He eats with his fingers and then licks the pads of them, grinning when you giggle and do the same.

It’s not something he’s used to — grabbing pieces of cut chicken with bare fingers and slurping noodles without having cut them first — especially not when he’s trying to impress a girl. But he can tell the lack of etiquette makes you more comfortable, and that’s all he really cares about.

He offers you another serving once you’ve finished your first. You decline politely with the mutters of “oh, no, I couldn’t,” but he’s seen your appetite. You could down five burgers at the diner and not break a sweat if you’re feeling hungry enough.

It’s one of those little heart-wrenchingly adorable things you do that both shock and enamor him. But, for a reason he can’t name, you’ve decided that part of yourself was too deplorable to add to your costume.

Steve only scoffs at you in response. He scoops more chicken and pasta onto your scrapped-clean plate despite your refusal.

You’re grateful he doesn’t let you get away with your stubbornness. Truth be told, you were still sort of starving.

He’s just grateful you don’t think his mediocre cooking skills total a complete dealbreaker.

Steve tries to fight you when you offer to help him clean up the kitchen. He tells you to make yourself at home on the couch while he tidies up, ushers you to pour yourself a glass of wine and pick out a record while you wait for him.

But you have issues with authority and take little fondness in being told what to do. So, in true Punchy fashion, you do the exact opposite of what he tells you to do.

You roll up the sleeves of your pretty sweater and stand next to him at the deeply set sink in his kitchen island. “You wash, I’ll dry?” you offer.

He doesn’t argue, only nods.

He’ll let you take the blame for not wanting to be too far away from him. It’s easier than admitting his own guilt in the matter. ‘Cause sometimes his heart breaks when he blinks and he has to miss you for the faintest fraction of a second.

“You seriously don’t have to, you know—”

“Stop saying that,” you scold and snatch the dripping plate from his hands. You swipe a towel over the ceramic with a meticulous ease. “I actually like doing dishes, okay? I do them at all time. I’m practically a professional at this point.”

“Yeah?” Steve laughs, shooting you a grin as he dunks his hand into the warm, sudsy water.

You love that stupid smile so much you’ve started to hate it.

It’s soft and so sincere, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. The gentle grin drips with so much honey you can practically taste it. It’s so tender it makes you feel unworthy, so full of love it fills you with a distant rage that he might’ve looked at someone else with it.

You have to duck away from his gaze before he can catch you blushing.

“Yeah. That’s, like, my one chore when I’m over at Eddie’s,” you respond with a shrug. “Because, you know, Wayne’s always working and Eddie’s… Eddie, and he really shouldn’t be trusted with anything remotely sharp or breakable, so…”

“What about when you’re home?” he wonders, simply for the sake of keeping the conversation going, but noting how the mention of home makes you tense.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, considering every time I go back, it looks like there’s been a tornado, doing dishes is just one part of the shit pile that I need to clean up, you know? My parents are usually on some bender — or still passed out from said bender — to take care of the place while I’m gone.”

Steve sees how distracted you’ve gotten as you keep wiping down a bone-dry plate.

“But, uh, anyway. Point is, I think I’m destined to have a career as a professional dishwasher.”

When your gaze flits back to Steve’s, he forces a smile at you.

He’s noticed how you always seem to talk about your best friend and his uncle without ever mentioning your parents. He understands now that it’s because they weren’t your family, not like Eddie and Wayne were. The small Munson clan was your home, it seems, and he fights to steer you back that way.

“So, you stay with them most of the time, then?” he redirects innocently as he hands you a freshly washed wine glass.

“Yeah. I think I’m pretty much Eddie’s personal caretaker these days.”

“Wow,” he marvels playfully, wide-eyed and grinning. “On top of being a professional dishwasher? You’re really doin’ it all, aren’t ya, Punchy?”

“Mm-hmm. I am a real jack of all trades, Harrington,” you joke back with a commendable finesse and flash a teasing smile up at him. The pastel-colored lipstick has mostly disappeared from your mouth now. You look more like yourself.

“And Eddie— he’s got this crazy scar on his hand from when he was a kid, and he was helping Wayne wash the dishes. He, like, blindly reached into the water or something and stabbed himself. Knife went straight through his palm.”

Steve winces.

“Yep. Now he says he’s too traumatized to help do the chores,” you reminisce with a distant laugh and set the glass upside down on the drying rack. “I don’t mind, though. I like doing them on my own. Gives me time to think, you know?”

“I’m standing right here,” the boy beside you scoffs, feigning offense.

“You can be the exception, Stevie,” you assure with a grin.

Maybe it’s the look you give him. Maybe it’s the nickname he used to hate, but now makes his heart skip a beat or two — or three. Maybe it’s all those things and the way your fingers brush his wrist when you move to take the pot from his hands. Either way, something shifts and he forgets how to use his fine motor skills.

The pan slips from his fumbling hands and yours and plops back into the water. The metal bangs loudly when it hits the bottom of the sink. Both of you jump back to avoid the splash.

“Shit. Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes scanning your form to make sure he didn’t make a total mess of you.

“It’s okay,” you promise with a gentle laugh and swipe the towel in your hand over your sweater to remove the droplets clinging there.

Steve scrunches his nose. “I feel like I might’ve just ruined my co-dishwashing privileges.”

“Just a little,” you quip.

You give him no warning before bringing the waffle-patterned nettle up to his cheek to dry him off, too. He flinches at the suddenness of the action but melts into your touch without thinking twice.

“You know, you have a pretty cool scar, too,” you tell him, mostly out of the blue, while you dab at the stubble on his jaw.

Steve’s gotten used to all your abrupt mannerisms and the way you flip-flop between topics with an expertise only you seem to possess. He likes that about you, though. There’s never a quiet or still moment when he’s with you.

“Yeah?” he hums back.

You nod and move down to his neck. “I felt it a while ago, during our Night of the Living Dead marathon—” of which Steve has no recollection. He can’t remember a damn thing from those movies, but can still feel the tingle of your mouth against his own.

“—On the back of your head. Felt pretty gnarly.”

You switch the towel to your other hand and use your free one to swipe through his hair. Your fingers muss at his hour or more of hard work, but your touch is a far better reward than nearly quaffed hair. You weave through the chocolate strands until you reach a marred, barren line.

“Right… there.”

Steve, still buzzing with your touch, manages a breathy chuckle. “Uh, yeah. It’s a… It’s a really long, really stupid story.”

“Wanna give me the short version?”

The grin you give him is impossible to say no to.

“I’m a super klutz,” he summarizes with a shrug and a sloppy grin.

He mourns the loss of your touch when your hand slips from his hair. “Well, now I have to hear the story.”

“It’s dumb. Like, seriously—”

“I like dumb,” you assure quickly to stop whatever self-loathing he was about to spew. “I’m best friends with Eddie Munson. I think I can take it.”

“Touché,” he chuckles under his breath. The remaining dishes are left forgotten in the depths of the soapy water when he turns his back to him. He leans his weight on the countertop and grips the edges of it in his hands. “You see, I did this really smart thing when I was a baby where I’d, you know, crawl backwards—”

“Crawl backwards?” you repeat with an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah. I’d push with my hands — beep, beep, beep,” he flattens his palms and presses them against thin air to demonstrate it for you. “Always in reverse. I mean, it makes sense, right? You gotta push to move.”

“Sure,” you shrug. A laugh tumbles from your mouth shortly after.

“Did that until I reversed my way down a flight of stairs and hit my head pretty damn good,” he concludes with a wince. It’s like he can still feel the pain sometimes.

“Wow,” you marvel. “So, like… When people ask if you were dropped on your head as a kid, the answer would be—”

“Yep…” he sighs, then laughs when it makes you laugh. He looks over at you with sparkling cinnamon eyes. “It explains a lot, doesn’t it? I think, like, right out of the gate, I’m super confident, you know? But I’m also a total idiot, which is just a brutal combination.”

“I have noticed that, actually,” you confess with a gentle sort of smile.

“Yeah?” he winces.

“Yeah. You do this thing sometimes where you get all… suave and cool,” you tell him, squinting and lowering your voice a few octaves for effect. “Like you’re trying to be King Steve all over again. And then you, like, trip over a stack of DVDs or something because the universe is trying to humble you.”

“That is a… really good way of putting it, actually,” Steve confesses with a laugh.

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, the good thing is, I get a big enough thump on my head, I can change, you know? I can learn. So, I guess I’m pretty glad somebody bumped my head before we met. ‘Cause things probably would’ve turned out… a whole lot differently.”

Steve watches your face contort from understanding to confusion. Your manicured brows pinch together and your doe eyes squint over at him. He watches you break down his words in real time.

“Somebody…” you murmur under your breath. “You mean… Are you talking about Nancy?”

“Yeah, uh… She gave me a— a pretty big thump, you know? Worse than the one I got falling down those stupid stairs,” he tells you with a reminiscent smile.

It makes you feel like a total idiot, standing in front of him like this — a carbon copy of the girl that tore his heart to shreds.

“I deserved it, though. I mean, you knew me back then, I was a… a total asshole. And sometimes, I think I still would be if she didn’t, you know… if she didn’t… totally rip my fucking heart out,” he concludes with a sad sort of laugh. “Now I’m kinda grateful she did. As bad as it hurt — as angry as it made me — I think, in a lotta ways, it made me better.”

“Better?” you echo quietly.

“Yeah… If she didn’t break up with me when she did — if I didn’t get that dumb thump on my head — I wouldn’t have changed. I wouldn’t be… here right now. With you,” he confesses, revealing more of himself than he ever has before, to a girl he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a couple of years ago.

He looks beside him at this costumed girl — at you — and he sees someone he probably would’ve given the time of day back in high school. The lack of dark, baggy clothing makes you look approachable — like you won’t actually bite him for coming near you like the rumors always said.

And Steve’s self-aware enough to know he probably would’ve treated you like shit back then. He would’ve fucked you just to fuck you, then only talk to you when he needed you to do his homework for him. And you wouldn’t have been the first girl he did that to either, and the thought makes him want to puke.

He’s glad he’s found you when he did. He’s even happier you met him where he was at, in that awkward in-between stage of growing up where you’re trying to be someone different while still finding comfort in staying the same. You never complained even once when he reverted back to his old ways.

And even though you’re standing right next to him, your chest nearly brushing his arm with every heavy breath you take, he finds himself missing you.

You’re not you — not without the fun outfits and the crazy hair and all your rings that clink together every time you move. He misses how the metal felt against his skin and the way they’d get caught in his hair.

You’re still beautiful like this, but it’s a strange type of beauty. One that both of you know doesn’t belong to you. You fit into it like baggy jeans or a too tight shirt. You’ve squeezed yourself into a ball to try to fit into a world far too small for you, because you thought that’s what Steve wanted.

“I’d still be that King Steve douchebag… Partying every night, getting drunk out of my mind, never settling down like I…” The words get trapped in his throat. He clears it to force them out. “Like I always wanted to, you know?”

“Right,” you murmur, voice not strong enough to be any louder than that.

“So, yeah, I don’t know. I guess, in some weird, roundabout way, I’m just to tell you that I’m not that guy anymore. King Steve,” he admits and presses his hip into the counter to face you fully.

When you gather the strength to look up at him, you find his gaze already dripping with honey and staring down at you. He’s all soft and mushy and twinkling with the adoration he’s got for you. And when he smiles, it’s so terribly sincere and coated with a distant sadness that’s been playing on the edge of his voice this whole time.

“And I know you might still see me as that guy. I don’t blame you. Honestly, I don’t really deserve to be looked at any differently, not after how I acted towards you—”

“Steve,” you breathe out in a tender sigh. “It’s okay—”

He shakes his head to himself. His eyes squeeze shut when his chin falls to his chest.

“It’s not. It’s… It’s really not. I just—” he inhales sharply, chest deflating on the exhale when his gaze turns back to you. He looks sterner now, but still so tender. “I just want you to know that I’ve changed, okay? I am changing. And I don’t want you to think I’m the kinda guy you have to change yourself for.”

When the weight of his words finally hits you, it feels a bit like being punched in the stomach.

It knocks all the wind out of you and makes it hard to think about anything other than the sudden loss of breath. Like a kid who’s fallen off the monkey bars and flat onto their back, you can’t do anything but writhe through the ache and hope you’ll be back to normal soon.

You got dressed that evening thinking you were the master of deception. You perfected your subterfuge and awaited Steve’s inevitable swooning because you looked like all the other girls he’d fallen in love with.

But he sees through every inch of your pretending with his secret x-ray powers, and now you’re just a stupid girl standing in front of him, soaking wet with embarrassment.

It’s a little like when he and Tommy and all his basketball goons would make fun of you. They’d talk about you like you weren’t there while they tossed tiny crumbled up pieces of paper into your hair so they could watch you struggle to get them out. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because now he’s apologizing, and telling you that he likes you, and that you never had to change a single damn thing for him at all.

You’re equally as self-conscious, though, and feeling like a total idiot for thinking you could even pretend to be halfway normal.

“Oh…” is the only thing that leaves your mouth in that moment. Your mind is still going a million miles a minute. You want to blurt out an apology and an explanation all at once, while simultaneously turning into a puddle at his feet and disappearing entirely.

But rather than break down, you stay standing. Too stuck in your head to feel all there.

Steve seems to notice your trepidation almost immediately. His eyes widen and his brows raise and his pretty mouth falls open to let all of his reassurances spill out.

“And it’s not that I don’t think you’re pretty! You’re— You’re perfect like this too, but I just…” he inhales and takes the tiniest step closer to you, putting an unsure hand on your waist. “I like you the way you were before. And this isn’t… This isn’t you.”

You blink back stinging tears and turn your gaze to where you toe your Mary Jane’s into the kitchen tile. You go to twist your rings like you always did when you were nervous before realizing you’d left them all at home.

“I just wanted to be like the girls you like,” you confess quietly.

“You are like the girls I like,” Steve corrects with a gentle laugh. “‘Cause I like you.”

Your eyes are all glassy when they flit back up to his.

Even though you don’t look quite like yourself, the way you look at him hasn’t changed. You still gaze at him like you can see right through the nice hair and the dumb smirks and the stupid persona he puts on when he doesn’t feel good enough the way he is. You look at him like you’re in love with the boy he tries like hell to keep hidden.

The exact same way he looks at you.

“I think I just got a little spooked. Girls like me aren’t supposed to end up with guys like you.”

“I stopped believing in that shit a long time ago,” he admits with the shake of his head. “The whole soulmates-love-at-first-sight thing, it’s all… bullshit. If I’m gonna love someone, I’m gonna do it on purpose.”

Steve watches the lingering sadness in your eyes ebb to something sunnier. Your gaze sparkles and suddenly you’re beaming at him, not bothering to conceal the effect his words have on you. You don’t think you could even if you wanted to.

“I like that,” you murmur in approval, then more loudly proclaim: “Screw soulmates! Let’s start loving people on purpose!”

The two of you laugh about this promise you’ve just made to each other without really saying it to each other. It sort of goes unsaid — if I’m gonna love you, I’m gonna do it on purpose and let’s love each other on purpose. That’s what you mean, and neither of you has to say it out loud because you get it.

It’s that exact realization that makes Steve’s heart flutter something fierce. Suddenly, the urge to touch you becomes too great to bear. He wants to feel you like he did on the couch of his theater room, when a film he could barely recall crackled in the background because the feel of you was too loud for him to hear anything else.

He needs you like that again, on him and all over him. The ache is a palpable one.

The boy squeezes your waist again, as though to remind you he was still there. Or, perhaps, to remind himself that you were still there —the real thing and not something his brain conjured up.

“It’s not totally insane how bad I want to kiss you right now, is it?” he wonders quietly to you. The low, sultry nature of his voice is not at all forced like it usually is when he’s trying most desperately to flirt with you. His words are just naturally weighed down by his desire for you.

You shake your head in a silent promise, then command through a grin, “Kiss me stupid, Harrington.”

Steve doesn’t waste a second.

He’s been anxiously awaiting his chance to touch you all night. He does so now with a vigor that makes you feel all of that anticipation. With one hand on your waist and the other cupping your jaw, you can feel his buzzing skin as it presses against your own — like the static of a television screen. His fingers settle between the strands of your hair while his thumb absentmindedly rubs along your cheekbone.

The softness of his touch makes you hum against his mouth.

His lips are familiar like home — more than, because sometimes you think you’ve never really had one.

There’s never been a cozy, warm, and tender place where you could rest your tired bones. Eddie’s trailer, maybe, but it wasn’t yours. No matter how often you slept within the four walls of his bedroom, no matter how hard you pretended like you’d lived there all your life, it would never belong to you.

But Steve could.

Steve could be yours.

And you wouldn’t even have to pretend either. It would be for real this time.

His mouth was welcoming and pleasant and gentle, far more than you’ve ever gotten out of four walls and a roof. The plush pink of his lips — the cushion of his bottom one you like to dig your teeth into and the rough pad of his tongue that explores your mouth like undiscovered territory — is perhaps the softest thing you’ve ever known.

Even when he kisses you harder and guides you until your back is pressed against the edge of the countertop, it’s still so, so tender.

Steve’s hands migrate to your hips. His fingers clutch the fabric of your skirt as he cages you against his weight and the counter, as though out of fear you might slip away.

Your touch mirrors his desperate one. You cling to him with a similar intensity, balling the fabric of his navy blue Henley in one hand while you waltz through the pretty strands of his neatly styled hair with the other. You let him kiss you the way he wants to kiss you, keeping your obedient mouth plaint for him while he opens your mouth wider with his tongue.

His touches turn bruising, and yours go soft like summer rain.

Steve holds desperately onto you, like any moment he could wake up and none of this could be real. He kisses you like he won’t ever get to kiss you again, having no idea that you’ve already started to build a home in him.

Meanwhile, your fingers tips trail like drops of water down his chest and stomach. They settle at his waist, on the top of his belt, and linger along the leather edge of it. You’re not quite sure what to do next — if you should wait for Steve to say something or if you should go ahead and take the lead.

Your sudden hesitation makes him nervous.

Steve’s lips click wetly as they part from yours. He peers down at you through heavy lids, amber eyes swimming with honeyed desire. His lips are pinker now, and swollen from being kissed so ardently. His brows pinch in concern. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t w—”

You barely let him get the words out before you press your mouth to his again. Your hands twist at the collar of his shirt to bring him back down to you. You stand on the tips of your toes to meet him halfway.

“I want to,” you mumble, practically slurring from being so drunk on his touch.

“I wanna treat you right—” he tries to tell you. Some of his words are muffled against your mouth because you find yourself totally unable to stop kissing him now. “—Take things slow with you.”

You smack a final kiss to his lips. When his honey eyes flutter open again, he finds you wearing a mischievous sort of smirk. There’s an accompanying teasing glint in your glazed over eyes.

“You can do all that when you’re inside of me,” you promise lowly, bold in a way neither of you are used to. The brazen nature of your dirty words is foreign but no less exciting.

They make Steve’s head get all swimmy and his cock tightens as it stiffens in his slacks. His spine tingles with his borderline overwhelming desire for you.

“Have mercy…” he murmurs within a heavy breath, more to himself than to you.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

And love, is only heaven away...

Steve’s curtains match his wallpaper.

It’s a questionable blue and gray plaid that you doubt he picked out himself. The framed pictures of sports cars only add to the boyish flair of his bedroom. It doesn’t look like him, though. None of it does.

The only real trace of Steve The Hair Harrington is the poster of Christie Brinkley hanging beside his window, diligently placed right next to his bed. It’s a blown-up Sports Illustrated cover — a beautiful, soaking wet woman posing less than effortlessly against a palm tree in all her blonde-haired, blue-eyed, perfected-bodied glory. It’s the most King Steve you’ve ever seen.

All the minute details of his bedroom make you giggle.

“You have great taste, Steve Harrington.”

He grumbles in annoyance at your teasing as he clicks his door shut behind you.

“Well, you can thank my mom for my great taste, okay? She decorated the place when we moved in, like, forever ago. I just haven’t, you know, gotten around to changing it yet.”

“I can tell,” you laugh and turn to him with a smirk. “Really cool bedsheets, by the way. I mean, seriously. This is state-of-the-art design here, Stevie.”

It isn’t until he’s being pelted with your relentless teasing that he remembers he’s got dinosaur-patterned linens spread out on his mattress.

Steve typically likes to alternate bedsheets in between washing them. His plain gray ones would’ve perhaps been more appropriate for times like this, but they were in his hamper along with another set of plaid ones. His dino sheets may be immature, but they’re no less comfortable. It’s not his fault they just happened to fall on the week you were coming over.

“Alright, Punchy—” The boy rolls his eyes and splays two wide hands on your sides, pressing himself into you rather shamelessly. You wonder if the clothed stiffness against your lower stomach is just your imagination. Any other teasing remarks dissipate from the tip of your tongue as your eyes widen.

Steve notices your silence and smiles. “—You wanna keep making fun of me, or do you wanna make out some more?”

“I think we can do both,” you answer with a shrug, resting your hands along his waist. “I’m quite the multitasker, Harrington.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Wanna show me?”

You nod again, smiling wider now.

He smashes his lips into yours again. You meet him halfway. It’s all too easy to fall back into the swings of things — the desperate mouths and longing touches. Maybe because you’re always desperate and longing for him. And, with the way he’s clinging to you now, you figure he must always be those things for you, too.

You relish in all of his little touches, in the duality of them. He cups your jaw so tenderly yet clutches your hip like he’s still trying to discern whether you’re real or not. Then his palms slide around your waist and up your back until he’s all but hugging you. It’s too sweet a gesture for how he’s prying your lips open with his mouth to slip his tongue inside.

His hands settle, finally, at the very bottom of your sweater. They linger at them hem, not pressuring you to do anything, just waiting for you to make a move.

You part from him to abide by his unspoken want. Your trembling hands work together to free you from your top. You’re more than grateful to pry the itchy thing off of you.

Steve doesn’t get the chance to admire the bra you wear. He catches a glimpse of frilly lace, but there’s little time to praise your topless form before you’re pulling him into another searing kiss. It’s full of tongue and teeth now, far more hungry that just moments ago. Your fingers slither through his hair and curl in the strands. You keep him firmly locked against you as his lips trail down your neck.

He finds your most sensitive spot in record time — the one just under your jaw, right beside your racing pulse. Your legs nearly give out when his tongue runs over it. A breathy moan exhales from your mouth before you can stop it and you feel him smile against your neck. He doesn’t comment on it, just keeps kissing you there in the hopes that you’ll do it for him again.

You do.

Steve sucks and nips at your delicate skin, and you revel in the feeling of his mouth. Head thrown back, you let him paint your neck in varying shades of red. Some will disappear come morning; others will darken into souvenirs for you to admire for the next few days.

The thought of him marking you drives you nearly as crazy as the feeling of his lips against you.

You stopped trying to hold back your whines somewhere around ten of them ago. It was easier, you found, for him to kiss you and to let yourself enjoy it than be hyperaware of all the sounds you were or weren’t making. Steve seems to like it when you moan for him, anyway. Every time you do, he kisses you harder, holds you tighter, and hums out his own subtle moans against you.

He digs his teeth into your skin. It makes you whimper. The desperate, high-pitched noise fades into a lower moan when the rough pad of his tongue rushes out to soothe the bite. He moves on to kiss you elsewhere. You shiver when your spit-slicked skin meets the cool air.

You don’t notice that you’ve hitched your leg up his hip until you feel his warm hand on your thigh to hold it up for you. His fingers inch up until the tips of them rest beneath the hem of your skirt.

You don’t bother to hide how much you want him.

He doesn’t bother to hide how badly he needs you close.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he mumbles into your neck, smiling when his words make you whine. “Can I make you feel good?”

You nod when the words get stuck in your throat.

He parts from you for the first time in several minutes. His heavy gaze meets your own. “Can you say it for me?” he asks, not teasing you, just wanting to make sure you want this. Him.

“Want you to…” you start, then swallow when your voice is tighter than expected. You manage the rest through bated breaths. “…to make me feel good.”

Steve kisses you again, a long and thorough stamp on your lips, followed by several tinier pecks. Then his mouth starts its journey down, down, down your body, stopping only to admire your exposed chest. He’s more than pleased to find that what you’re wearing is hardly a bra at all.

It’s a sheer thing with dainty lace detailing. He figures it’s more for decoration than to push up your breasts. There’s no padding at all. Just a pretty tulle number that leaves very little to the imagination.

You watch him intently with a smile, enamored by how enamored he seems to be by a pair of boobs. You never thought yours were much to ogle over, but Steve presses tender, wet kisses to them anyway. He takes the plush between his teeth, sucking on the delicate skin to leave a blossoming bruise there. He only trails further down when he’s satisfied with the mark he’s branded you with.

Steve falls to his knees with a soft thud upon the carpeted floor. The faint sound is much more obvious in the quiet of his bedroom. He looks somehow prettier below you — soft and delicate and sweet like chocolate syrup or marshmallow fluff. But he’s still got this air about him, something stern and domineering, that tells you he’s still got all the power.

He presses a kiss to your thigh, just above the top of your sock, then several more further up. His fingers raise the fabric of your skirt the higher his lips travel. And, strangely, you’re not all that nervous about being half-naked in front of him. It’s hard to be when he’s kissing you like you’re a beautiful thing that deserves to be touched so tenderly.

Steve keeps pushing up your skirt and stills when he reaches the apex of your thigh, right where the top of it meets the joint of your hip.

Your underwear doesn’t match the bra you’re wearing, he finds. It’s orange all over and spotted with bats — the color has faded slightly, like you’d bought them some number of Halloweens ago.

It’s endearing. Everything about you is endearing. Even when you aren’t trying.

“Hold it up for me, yeah?” he asks you with your skirt in his hands.

It shouldn’t surprise him when you do the exact opposite. You step back from him to shove the thing down your legs, then leave it in a pool of forgotten fabric on his bedroom floor when you gravitate towards him all over again.

His hands rise to your outer thigh and rub soothingly along the warmed skin. You wonder if he can feel the goosebumps pebbling there. The smirk he flashes up at you tells you that he does.

He’s got a twinkle in his eye when he teases you. “Really cute underwear, by the way.”

“I was obviously very prepared for this,” you retort with ease, making fun of yourself just as effortlessly as you can make fun of him.

“I like them,” the boy assures. “I really like them. Very on brand, Punchy.”

“Would you like me better out of them?”

Your arched brow and knowing smirk, kept caged between your teeth, is met with a bemused gaze. Steve’s eyes go wide at your forwardness.

“Uh, yeah— I mean… yeah,” he nods with a breathless chuckle. Then, more sincerely says, “Only if you still want to.”

You scoff at his timidity, though it’s more at yourself than him. “Look at me, Steve,” you answer plainly, motioning to your half-naked form and the damp spot forming in your underwear. “If I didn’t want this, you’d know by now.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, just before pressing a chaste kiss to the black bow of your panties. He noses at the softness of your stomach while his fingers curl around the hem. He tugs them slowly downward, giving you ample time to stop him if you wanted.

A part of him is still convinced that none of this is real — you, namely. Truth be told, he’s waiting for a smack to the face and a rant about how all of this was just bullshit.

It never comes, though.

Instead, he gets a sheepish grin and a sparkling gaze as you hold onto his shoulder to step out of your underwear. The giggle that spills from your mouth when he tosses them over his shoulder makes him smile.

Your pussy is as pretty as the rest of you. It’s more manicured than he imagined for a girl as wild as you. There’s a tuft of hair on your pubic bone, cut down and shaved around the edges. It leaves your lips bare and glistening with your accumulating slick.

Steve’s all but salivating at the sight of you.

“You wanna put that mouth to work, Harrington, or do you wanna ogle some m— oh,” you try to tease him, all amused at how he looks like he’s never seen a naked girl before, knowing full well he’s seen plenty. But your taunts evaporate from your tongue when he finally puts his mouth on you. They ebb into a breathy, high-pitched moan.

The tip of his chiseled nose smushes against you while he licks at the rest of your pussy with a practiced tongue.

It’s more than obvious he’s done this before. Enough to have become a borderline professional at it. He finds your sensitive button within seconds and with minimal effort. Your legs are already buckling, practically turning to jelly, and he’s only just started.

He latches onto your lips with a swollen pink mouth. His warm, wide hands wrap around the backs of your thighs to keep you steady and anchored against him.

Steve kisses your cunt like he’s making out with you. He opens and closes his mouth in slow, rhythmic motions, rutting his tongue along your glistening skin all the while. He’s sloppy with intention. Every touch is meticulous. He’s trying to figure you out, trying to learn what you like the most and what makes you moan the loudest for him.

Steve’s attentive. He’s ambitious and ardent. It’s like he enjoys kissing you down there, and not like he’s doing you a favor so he can get something in return. He moans against you like it’s every bit as pleasurable for him, as it is for you.

He alternates his efforts while he discovers you like unexplored territory.

You giggled like it tickled you when he stuck his tongue into your cunt the first time, then moaned when his nose nudged your clit. “Your mouth is so good,” you’d praised through bated breaths, but your whines had gotten too quiet for his liking. He opted to give his tongue a break and latch his slick lips to your swelling clit.

You liked it most when he sucked you there. At least, he figures you must, with the way your mouth parts in a silent cry and your hands dart to his hair to push him further into you.

“You like that?” Steve asks you, just to be sure. He pulls enough away so the words are intelligible, but still close for you to feel the vibrations of them against your skin.

“Yes,” you answer in a broken sigh.

Steve barely lets you answer before he’s licking a flat stripe up the length of your pussy. He slows methodically when the tip of his tongue catches your puffy clit, just so he can see your legs tremble. They do, rather intensely so, and he revels in the way your thighs quiver at his temples.

He wishes he’d laid you down before putting his mouth on you. He regrets not getting to spread you open, to part your soft folds with his thumbs, and admire you the way you deserve to be admired.

But to be under you this way is a reward in itself. To get on his knees for you, to let you grind your hips against his face, it’s heaven. He never wants to stop feeling you this way.

“Please, Steve…” you moan breathlessly. “Please, please, please.”

You plea like it’s a mantra. Your voice grows tighter and tighter the closer you get to your peak.

Steve’s not entirely what you’re begging for. You’re not either, really. You just know that the pleasure is swelling. The wringing knot in your stomach is close to snapping. The thought alone is borderline overwhelming. You want to run away from the crescendoing feeling and keep it locked against your pussy all at once.

“Steve… Steve, please. I’m— fuck.”

“You can take it,” he promises, speaking the words into your cunt. His lips smack when he pulls away from you, just for a moment to catch his breath. His chest heaves and his tongue darts to graze his bottom lip. “It’s yours, baby. Just take it—”

You’re a goner the second he wraps his lips around your clit again. He suckles there like his life depends on it. Your hips twitch and you tug at his hair when you come, perhaps a bit rougher than you realize. Steve delights in the burn at his scalp. He groans shamelessly into you, a hearty grumble that rolls over every inch of your body.

You make the mistake of looking down at him in the midst of your undoing. You bring your chin down to your chest and open your fluttering eyes to peer down at the boy below you. He’s already looking up at you, you find, with his own bleary gaze. His cinnamon eyes glitter up at you and you melt for him.

Something about the sight of Steve on his knees for you, face snug against your cunt, and gaze lidded with desire makes you keen. Your hips flex, then still against his mouth while you gush for him.

“There you go,” he murmurs against your cunt. “There you go, baby.”

A high moan gets hung in your throat at his praise. It escapes in a delicate cry when your orgasm pummels into you full throttle. You’re whining and terribly sensitive when the buzzing feeling starts to ebb.

Steve laps at your weeping cunt while you writhe.

He knows to leave your throbbing clit alone now, but seeks to prolong your pleasure in other ways. He gathers the honey you leak from your pulsating hole with an eager tongue and doesn’t relent until you’re twitching away from him. Only when you’re tugging him off by his hair is he satisfied.

Then he goes effortlessly soft again.

He presses little kisses to the burning flesh of your thighs and runs his palms along the backs of them to coax you back to the earth again.

When your cries fade to more contented sighs and your eyes find his again, he smiles sweetly up at you. Too sweetly. He shouldn’t be grinning so tenderly, not when his lips and chin and nose glisten with your slick.

Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hands as he rises to his full height in front of you.

“Was that… Was that good for you?” he wonders, suddenly sheepish like he wasn’t lapping at your pussy a minute or more ago.

“Are you kidding?” you retort, trying to laugh at him. All that comes out is a fatigued scoff. Your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt and you lean heavily against him when his arms wrap around you again. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

That nearly does him in right then.

He leans to press a languid kiss to your mouth. There’s a foreign musk to his tongue now that wasn’t there before. You hum a moan against him when you realize it’s you that you’re tasting.

“Can I suck you off?” you blurt.

Steve freezes.

There’s hardly a thing he wants more than to feel your warm mouth on his cock. He’s been hard and aching since the second he got you into his bedroom. And that’s exactly why he knows he won’t last.

He usually jerks off before dates for that exact reason. At least, King Steve did because King Steve knew wherever he was going, he was getting laid. He wouldn’t have the reputation he did if he only lasted eight seconds.

He would’ve gotten himself off before you came around, made sure he was able to last as long as you needed him to if he’d expected you to need him at all. But he wasn’t expecting any of this to happen — especially not for you to come against his mouth and ask to give him a blowjob minutes later.

He didn’t invite you to dinner in the hopes you’d put out after. Call him old-fashioned, but he enjoys spending innocent time with you. He would’ve been more than happy to cook you dinner and kiss you on the cheek before you left.

But here you are, wanting more.

You never stop surprising him.

“I mean, it’s only fair, right?” you shrug at his silence. “You deserve to get off too.”

“You don’t have to. Not just because I did it for you—”

“I’ve been hearing about your dick since the tenth grade. I’m pretty sure I’m the only girl in the class of ’85 that hasn’t seen it. The least you can do is let me give you a measly blowjob,” you confess lowly.

Steve, knocked senseless at your words, starts working his belt off without a second thought. His hands fumble with the buckle while he smirks at you. “Yeah? What have you heard?”

“Oh, you know. The usual,” you answer vaguely and saunter the short distance to his bed. You plop down on the edge of it and lean your weight on your palms. “Just that you have a monster-sized dick and that Marianne from Soc nearly broke it when you took her virginity.”

“That was a rumor!” he defends as he steps out of his jeans. His shirt goes next. He pulls the thing up and over his head with an admirable sort of finesse, leaving his toned torso and hairy chest on display for you.

“The monster-sized dick or the Marianne from Soc thing?”

He doesn’t entertain with an answer, just drops his boxers and lets you figure it out for yourself.

His cock is already hard and glowing a faint strawberry color at the tip with neglect. It curves to his right hip and hangs there, weighed down by its own size. The hair upon his pubic bone rises to meet the happy trail on his lean stomach, trimmed slightly but still a bit wild. Tanned skin, heavy balls, and a singular vein that trails like a river from the base to the head — Steve Harrington’s got the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen.

You don’t even realize you’re gawking at him because you’re too busy trying to figure out how either could be rumors. You’re looking at beast right now, a wild thing that tiny, little Marianne from Soc certainly couldn’t handle. You’re not even entirely sure if you can.

Steve blanches at your hesitation. He sees you retreat into your head and rushes to bring you back. “Hey, we don’t have to… We don’t have to do this if you do want to. We don’t have to do any of this if—”

“I want to,” you assure quickly, eyes widening when you realize how quiet you’d gone. You can imagine how mortifying it must’ve been, for him to get naked in front of you and be met with total silence. “You just… have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

His concern ebbs to a relieved smile. “Well, thanks for stroking my ego, princess.”

“I would love to stroke something else,” you quip with a playful grin that’s far too proud of such a dumb joke.

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to hide his smile.

He wants it on record, though, that he’s not grinning at your mindless innuendo. It wreaks too much of Eddie. You both seem to possess a similar sort of humor in that way, in how you can make anything into a joke — particularly a dirty one.

“Thanks for stroking my ego,” Steve would say and Munson would joke, “Well, we both know nothing else of yours is getting stroked, Harrington, so it’s the least I can do.” And Eddie would’ve been right. But Steve would never let him know that.

The boy settles in the middle of his bed and watches with a glittering gaze as Eddie’s best friend climbs between his legs. She spits into her palm and starts tugging at his hard cock with it. Steve isn’t sure of what to do — if he should rub it in this boy’s face or keep this piece of heaven to himself. He decides on that latter when your lips wrap around his leaking tip.

You’ll tell Eddie about all this tomorrow. He’s your best friend, after all — Steve will be doing the same with Robin, no doubt. And that alone is a reward in and of itself.

Getting him into your mouth was easy in theory, but you quickly find that it’s a harder feat than you realized. Steve’s not just long, he’s wide, and the combination makes it nearly impossible to take him fully.

You pay extra attention to his strawberry pink tip to make up for what you can’t reach. He seems to like that more than anything else. Pearly pre-come leaks from there and you happily lap up his dribbling honey. Steve shudders every time your tongue meets his mushroom tip. His cock keeps drooling for you, so you keep doing it.

You work the rest of him with your palm, made slippery with your spit. Your free hand anchors around his thigh.

The combined effort isn’t something Steve’s particularly used to.

Most girls choose one or the other. They either try to swallow him whole or opt to use their hands when they know that they can’t. That is, if they even want to suck him off at all. The foreign attention you give him drives him to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

“Hey, we should, uh— we should maybe stop,” he cautions tightly.

You detach from the head of his dick with a soft pop, but keep working him slowly with your palm. Your brows pinch together with concern. “You okay? Is it not… Is it not good?”

“What? No! It’s not— It’s not that. It’s great. That’s the… That’s sorta the problem,” Steve assures with an awkward laugh. “I’m not gonna… I probably won’t last much longer. And if you wanna… you know…”

“Fuck?” you finish for him with a teasing grin.

“Yeah. Then we should, you know, maybe stop now.”

Your hand stills at the base of his cock. Steve can finally breathe without the worry of bursting entirely.

“I mean, we can stop if you want to. You know, no pressure or anything, but… I don’t mind. I was sorta looking forward to you coming in my mouth.”

And how the hell was Steve ever going to say no to that — to you? He’s never denied you of anything before, and with that godawful track record, he wasn’t exactly equipped to start now.

Your mouth wraps around him again. You kitten lick at his tip and moan at the musky taste before sucking at his blushing head.

It feels good — it feels great — but he’s plagued with a lingering worry.

He wants so desperately to fuck you, more than he needs to breathe, it feels like. But your mouth is too perfect a thing to deprive himself of. He’s scared it’ll take him too long to get hard again, or worse, that he won’t be able to at all.

The thought of embarrassing himself in front of you, of not making you feel as good as he wants to make you feel, is an unbearable one.

There’s no way he’s stopping you, though. How can he when you’re sucking him off like your life depends on it? Your hand tugs and squeezes at the base of his cock while your tongue laps at his drooling tip. And on top of all that, you moan against him like making him feel good is making you feel good, too.

“Holy shit,” Steve forces through a tightening throat when your tongue dips just below his head to lick where the pale blue vein fades. His neck stretches as he digs the crown of his head into the pillow, revealing all of the pretty tendons you want to sink your teeth into.

“Your mouth is— fuck… Your mouth is fucking perfect, babe, shit.”

All of his little reactions spur you forward.

You want him to keep praising you. You want to keep making his legs shudder and his hips twitch and his cock jerk in your mouth. So you double your efforts, just to hear more of his pretty whines that get stuck in his throat.

When you duck your head to pay the same amount of attention to his balls, Steve’s a total fucking goner.

His hands, both of which were obediently fisting the bedsheets, immediately dart to your hair when you suck his sack into your mouth. One warm palm cradles your jaw while the other clings to the back of your hand. He doesn’t push you or force you to take him further — he just holds you.

“I’m gonna come,” he grunts before a groan climbs out from his throat. His head falls back again, but he forces it upright a moment later so he can keep on watching you.

His hips stutter when you hum a moan against him.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” he manages through heavy pants. “You want my come?”

You nod with his balls still in your mouth, then pull off of them with a pop to put his cock back in your mouth.

Steve gives you exactly what you want no more than ten seconds later, spitting several loads of his come onto your tongue. It tastes like what had been leaking from his tip, just a bit saltier and far more potent with so much of it in your mouth at one time.

Steve’s thighs tremble around you and hips buck wildly despite himself until he’s given you everything he can possibly give to you.

He allows himself only a few moments to relish in the aftermath of his swirling pleasure before reaching for the box of tissues on his bedside table. He rises to his elbows to hand you the napkin when his dick slips from your mouth.

“Here, you can—” he says, trying to offer you something to spit into. It’s a habit he’d developed after the tenth or so girl refused to swallow.

You’ve already wolfed down his come, though, and wiped the excess at the corners of your mouth with the tips of your fingers. You don’t let a single drop of him go to waste.

All this time, Steve assumed he just tasted bad. He figured that must’ve been why no girl ever swallowed for him — not even Nancy, the only other girl he was ever really serious about. And they were together for two years. On the off chance she ever actually wanted to give him a blowjob, he knew her swallowing his come was totally out of the question.

Steve never minded, though. He was a giver more than he was anything else and he preferred most to finish inside. But now, with you, he sees just how much he’d missed out on. It feels a bit strange and unearthly levels of gratifying.

The boy breathes out a laugh and falls back against the mattress. The tissue falls from his limp hand onto the carpeted floor as he revels in his post-orgasmic haze. With his head still swimming and his legs still tingling, his glassy eyes find the speckled ceiling above him but don’t focus on anything in particular.

“Was that—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he interjects softly.

There’s no use in asking if you were good or not. Surely, you could answer the question just by looking at him. He’s a puddle of a man in the middle of his bed, pliant and at your mercy.

You giggle and slither in beside him, pressing your mostly bare body into his side. One leg wraps over his own. The warmth of your slick pussy lingers at his hip. You prop your head up with your fist while your other settles along his chest, busying itself with the tufts of hair there.

“That was, like, really good,” you praise with a sheepish beam. You wish you knew bigger words that might be able to describe it better. Really good doesn’t come close to explaining how heavenly it felt to come in his mouth, for him to come in yours. “You certainly lived up to all the rumors, Harrington.”

“You say that like we’re done,” he chuckles at your conclusive tone.

Your eyes flit from his face to his softening cock lying limb on his thigh, then back to his face again. You arch a skeptical brow. “No?”

“Not even close,” he shakes his head defiantly. His honey eyes flit between the both of yours. “I need to fuck you, babe, I just… I need a few minutes. If that, you know— If that’s okay with you…”

“You just give me life-changing head. So, yeah, I think I can give you a couple minutes,” you promise with a playful, but not insincere smile.

Even after having his mouth on you, and your mouth on him, you still like kissing him the most.

No amount of pleasure can sate the feeling of having him so close in this way. There’s nothing equally gratifying as sucking his bottom lip into your mouth or feeling the wet muscle of his tongue running itself over your own. You’d be more than happy to kiss him like this until sunrise.

Steve’s hands stay locked on either side of your head while he pries your mouth open with his own. He’ll occasionally pull back to admire your spit-slick, kiss-bitten lips for a moment or two. Then he’ll flash you a smile, like you’re a piece of finished artwork he’s happy with, before pulling you back down again.

You lean just over him, elbow digging into the pillow beside his head as you rest your weight on your arm. That hand twists itself within the strands of his hair, fingers lazing in the chestnut halo on his head. Your other migrates down his body, touching him with feather-light grazes to coax him hard again.

His stomach tightens when your nails sweep over the thin trail of hair there. His stiffening cock twitches where it lazes along his inner thigh.

“Top or bottom?” the boy mumbles between languid kisses. His eyes flutter open long enough to catch the brief flash of confusion on your face. You don’t stop pressing your lips to his, even amid your uncertainty.

“Like bunks?”

Steve sputters a laugh against your mouth. He pulls away so he can look at you. “No, like— I meant, do you wanna ride me? Or would you rather lay down?”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer quickly. You figure the question must’ve puzzled you because no guy has ever asked before. This kindness is still a tad bit foreign. “I just— I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. It was cute,” Steve assures with a smile so soft it has to be sincere.

“Um… I don’t— I mean, I don’t know. Is that, like, something you want me to do?”

His right hand leaves your face to find his cock. He wraps his fist around himself, pumping slowly to keep himself hard for you. “It’s whatever you want, okay? Promise. I just thought it might be easier for you if you were on top. So you can take things at your own pace and everything.”

“Yeah,” you affirm within a heavy exhale. You feel yourself growing wetter at the mere thought of being on top of him like that. You nod until the words catch up with you. “Yeah. Okay.”

It isn’t your first time being in this position, but something about straddling Steve’s hips feels foreign. You’re starting to notice that most things you do with him feels that way — new and strange and alarming. Even the most innocent things, the mundane shit you’ve done a thousand times before, it’s all brand new with him.

You twist your hand behind your back to unclip your bra. Steve watches you with wide eyes like you’re doing some sort of magic trick. When you toss the piece of fabric somewhere on his bedroom floor, he spits into his palm to wet his cock.

His eyes flit from his hand, to your glistening pussy hovering just above his lap, to your face. “You can, uh— You can rub yourself on me, if you want. You know, to get it wetter. I don’t have lube or anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m…” you trail off. I’m more than wet, you’d almost said. That felt a little too overzealous, though, so you settle on telling him: “I’m okay.”

“You’re still on the, um, the pill, right?” he wonders, feeling a bit lame for remembering something you’d said in passing so long ago.

You complained once that birth control made you feel crazy. You said it affected your mood so drastically sometimes that it didn’t feel worth it to take. That was weeks ago. A brief conversation you’d left in the Family Video parking lot.

You nod wordlessly in reply.

Steve holds the base of his cock to keep it steady for you as you pierce yourself with it.

Taking his blushing head was the easiest part. The sensitive tip slips so effortlessly into you, just bulbous enough for you to feel it but not enough to stretch you out. It’s a Goldilocks just right sort of feeling that has low moans crawling from the depths of your throats.

Down, down, down a couple more inches and that’s when the ache starts to set in.

His girth stretches you in an unfamiliar, but no less satisfying way. As good as it feels, the burning sensation is a hard one to ignore. It’s like a fire, a distant one. It’s sort of like reaching your hand toward a flame while your brain screams at you to not get any closer.

It’s a lot like that, actually.

Your brain cautions you about taking him any deeper than you have now lest he might totally split you in half.

“Sorry— Sorry. I’m sorry,” you sputter suddenly, a little embarrassed that he’s only a couple of inches within you and you’re already having so much trouble. With your chin tilted towards your chest and your eyes squeezed shut, you refuse to meet Steve’s concerned gaze. “It’s just… It’s kind of a lot.”

“It’s okay,” he assures quickly. He rubs two soothing hands along your hips and fights back the urge to thrust further into you. You don’t see the gentle smile he looks at you with your eyes closed. “Take your time.”

A little over a minute and a pep talk later, you finally build up the courage to sit on him fully. Come, you can do it, your inner voice spits at you. Stop being a baby. It’s just a penis, don’t be such a bitch.

Your face scrunches when you slide slowly down upon him. Steve expects you to stop and take a break for anothera moment like you’d done just before. He’s more than surprised when you try to take him completely.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don’t have to— holy shit, babe— don’t hurt yourself— fuuuck.”

You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief when he’s finally sheathed within your pulsating pussy. A lazy, lopsided smile makes its way to your lips, delirious with pleasure and pride.

Both of you exhale faraway moans at the new feeling, heads falling back on their own accord. You’re already more than gratified and you haven’t even moved yet. He’s reaching parts of you that most guys don’t on their best day, making you feel full without trying. Even without his thrusting, the minuscule twitches of his cock are already driving you toward an orgasm.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask him suddenly, smiling lazily at the ceiling.

Steve’s adams apple bobs as he swallows. Then he nods.

“I’m already really fucking close,” you confess with a breathless laugh, face crumbling under the weight of your pleasure halfway through.

Steve chuckles, then groans quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am, too.”

You laugh together and your coinciding embarrassment fades like an ebbing tide. The intimate confessions affirm what you were already more than aware of — that the both of you are just a couple of lovesick idiots who are head over heels for each other and in so far over your heads that you can barely breathe.

You’re spurred on by the sight below you. Steve’s wild hair and amber eyes and swollen pink mouth make you ravenous. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, looking like the sight of you makes him hungry too, as you start to grind your hips over his lap.

He guides your rhythm with two wide hands on your hips. Your pace is slow, every roll of your hips is experimental, and he revels in every second of it.

You start by rocking back and forth over his lap, then by moving in small circles to add stimulation. When get more confident, you lift yourself up and down over his cock. He’s able to hit your most sensitive spot that way. Steve seems to like it too, because you feel the subtle jerks of his responsive cock.

He accommodates your every move — thrusting his hips in time with your bouncing, then flexing them to reach as deep as he can within you.

“That’s it…” Steve murmurs, mostly to himself. He’s not exactly trying to praise you, but his words send lightning strikes of pleasure to your pussy anyway. He keeps babbling to himself. “That’s it, baby. Take it. Just like that…”

You support yourself with your palms on his hairy chest when you double your efforts on top of him. Steve groans at the lewd sound of your slick thighs clapping over his lap every time you move down on his cock. Your cunt quickly drenches his lower stomach and the small thatch of pubic hair just below it.

You too easily forget that fucking is a marathon and not a sprint.

You overexert yourself quickly in your attempt to rush toward an orgasm and the effects of your sudden fatigue make your legs feel numb.

“Sorry,” you apologize breathlessly when you’re bouncing slows to a stop. You collapse to your elbows, nose nearly grazing Steve’s, as you swivel your hips slowly over his lap. You try to laugh at yourself. “My legs are just getting a little tired… I haven’t done this in a while if you couldn’t tell.”

Steve smiles sympathetically up at you. His hands leave the plush of your hips to cradle your jaw. He gazes at you with a stern sort of gentleness. “Stop apologizing. You’re good,” he promises, then pulls you softly down to peck your mouth.

He rolls his hips up into you and grunts when it makes you whine. “So fucking good…”

Steve tells you to tuck your knees further up his torso and you obey without thinking. You tuck your face into his shoulder and let him cradle the back of your head with one hand while the other settles on your ass.

He grips you there rather shamelessly, fingers digging into your plump skin, while he bends his knees behind you. He plants his feet on the mattress and thrusts up into you without warning.

His pace is already a relentless one, having no need to work himself up to a rapid pass as you had. Being basketball team captain has done wonders for his stamina, it seems. He drills up into you and keeps drilling into you without tiring.

He keeps you securely pressed against him all the while and you relax into his embrace, happily letting him fuck you in his own delicious rhythm as he’d done for you.

The new position stimulates you from all angles. Steve’s hard cock pounds into your weeping pussy. Your swollen clit catches the coarse hair on his taut stomach with each of his thrusts. Your pebbled nipples drag along his furry chest.

It leaves you a whining, writhing mess on top of him.

“You like this?” he murmurs in your ear through broken pants.

He’s partly teasing you. He knows you mustlike what he’s doing to some degree because you’re moaning something fierce into his neck, peppering too sweet kisses in between your pretty whines. But he also wants to know that you like it. He wants to hear you say the words.

He feels you nod against his shoulder. “Yes...” You sigh, then whimper. “Yes, yes yes—”

“I knew you did,” he affirms. You can hear the smile on his face. You’re not sure if he’s mocking you or not. You’re not sure if you particularly care either.

His stubbly jaw grazes your cheek when he turns his head to press a kiss to the burning skin. “Knew you’d like it�� Takin’ my dick like a fuckin’ champ, babe.”

“Wanna be good for you,” you confess against his sweat-slicked skin, your voice high and wet like you’re close to crying.

Steve tugs at your hair, not enough to hurt you, just enough to pull you from the refuge you’d sought in the nook of his neck. He finds that your eyes are glassy with unshed tears, brows pinching and swollen lips softly agape. His amber eyes are just as wild, heavy with hunger.

“You are good for me, baby,” he promises and seals it with a searing kiss to your wet mouth. He means it in more ways than one and prays you understand. “You’re so good for me… Fucking perfect, babe— shit—”

His cock twitches in your snug slick when you clench around him. He tightens the grip he’s got on your ass and spreads you wider to pound harder into you. You hope his scorching touch will leave bruises come morning. You want to remember how it felt to have him touching you this way.

“Steve…” you sigh, helpless.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna…” you start, then whimper when you feel the familiar pleasure start to crescendo once more. It takes a moment for the words to return to you. “I’m about to come.”

“Touch yourself,” he blurts.

Your lidded gaze widens. You peer down at him, bemused by his sudden request. “Huh?”

“Touch yourself for me,” he repeats, groaning when the request makes you tighten around him. “Want this to be good for you, too.”

He says this like you’re not already in heaven. You listen to him anyway, though, and squeeze your hand between your slick bodies to find your sensitive button. You rub at your clit until your thighs tremble around his waist. You try your best to ride through every bolt of lightning the pleasure shoots down your spine, despite the distant fear that you won’t be able to weather them.

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises lowly. “Keep rubbing your clit for me…”

Your free hand stays locked in his hair. Your grip tightens within the chocolate strands as you near your peak. Steve revels in the ache, groaning into your shoulder when the burn at his scalp spreads.

You’re already gut-wrenchingly close. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, a struck chord crescendoing — and then Steve changes the angle of his hips. He flexes them suddenly and his thick cock probes something much deeper inside of you. Something that’s never been touched before — not by another guy or a toy or you.

It’s tender, and much more sensitive than your clit. Your vision strays for a brief moment as a white-hot flame of pleasure makes you jerk against him. You gasp sharply, then forget how to breathe when a moan gets caught in your throat. Your hand stills between your slick bodies as you freeze on top of him.

The wet cry finally spills from your mouth after several long seconds. It’s as long and delicate and wet as the orgasm you gush around Steve’s cock.

The flame burns red hot just before you come, then turns to simmering embers when your cunt numbs from the intense pleasure. You blink, and suddenly the fire is burning blue. The rest of your body becomes a casualty to the inferno.

“Yeah? Is that the spot, baby?” you hear Steve wonder. He murmurs the words in your ear, but you don’t hear them. They sound muffled and far away.

You hope he doesn’t expect you to answer. You’re not entirely sure if you can form words anymore, or any actual conceivable thoughts. All you can do is suffer through every overwhelming wave of your orgasm that leaves you a crying and convulsing mess on Steve’s lap.

“Holy fuck—”

The boy slams his hips against you with a final, dense clap that sounds deafening in the quiet of his bedroom. Your gushing and fluttering cunt milks his cock. The feeling of your weeping pussy and the sound of your pretty whines throw him headfirst into his own orgasm. His thrusts still as he twitches within you. A moment later, you feel the subtle tingle at the base of your spine when he spits his come inside of you.

His come paints your welcoming, rippling walls. It’s warm, like the first sip of coffee in the morning or fuzzy socks on cold feet. It blankets you in a sinful comfort.

Steve noses at your cheek while he rides the high of his climax. He rolls his hips slowly into you, much softer now that his cock has grown so sensitive. He clamps his mouth shut between his teeth to stifle his too loud moans and desperate whines. They’re forced to crawl from his throat as suffocated grunts.

You mourn the loss of not seeing his face while you’re tucked so securely into the nape of his neck. It’s a work of art you can imagine so clearly — his pinched brows and scrunched nose and parted lips. But you relish in the searing hold he has on you now, happy to hold and to be held.

The shuddering is slow to subside, especially from you. The aftershocks of your orgasm keep your hips spasming over his lap. Steve groans into your shoulder every time your pussy quivers around his softening cock.

And then the two of you just lay there. You hold onto each other and try to catch your breaths. With the both of you covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your skin sticks together with every tiny movement. The feeling of it makes you smile. You feel like the two of you really are melting together.

Steve’s fingers part from your wild strands of hair and take to tracing the expanse of your damp back. You hum in contentment at the feeling, nuzzling your nose up and down the right side of his neck.

The moment is melted ice cream and early morning rain and marshmallow fluff. It’s spring mornings on the porch and warm breezes in the fall. It’s a soft and familiar thing that’s still so, so new.

You think you could spend forever here, if you had to. In Steve’s bed and in Steve’s lap and with all of Steve’s languid touches.

But sex is different when you’re an adult.

When you’re a teenager, you get to be irresponsible. Carelessness sort of comes with the territory. You have sex in a dirty bathroom of a bar you snuck into and don’t think twice about the implications of any it. But as an adult with bills and a nine-to-five and groceries you’ve got to get once a week, all you can think about is how inconvenient a UTI would be.

“I should probably use the bathroom,” you murmur, already grieving the loss of his touch before you’ve even parted from him.

You leave the safety of his neck to peer down at him. His heavy lids mirror your own.

“I have this thing where if I don’t piss after sex, I feel like I’m gonna be, like, cursed or something. Kinda like when you break a mirror and you’re stuck with shit luck for seven year— or however that dumb superstition goes,” you ramble, voice heavy with fatigue and lingering pleasure. “Anyway. Yeah. Plus, I should probably clean up, too.”

Steve breathes out a laugh at your sudden prattling but humors you nonetheless.

Somehow you manage to pry yourselves off of each other — you, feeling significantly emptier without him inside you and Steve, already shivering with the lack of your warmth all over him.

You separate just long enough for him to wet a washcloth in the sink while you piss just a couple feet away from him. The bathroom connected to his bedroom seems to be a foreign sight for you — a least, that’s what he assumes because you rave so enthusiastically about it the entire time.

It’s all Steve’s ever known, though, so he finds it difficult to do anything but nod along with your rambling. More than anything, he’s glad you’re not as weighed down by the domesticity of the moment as he is. Because he, for one, feels a little like he’s been hit by a freight train.

Perhaps spending so many years all alone has made him sensitive to closeness.

You sit on the marble countertop and rest your forehead on his shoulder while he cleans you up. He runs the warm cloth along your delicate folds and wipes away traces of your slick and his come that glisten on your thighs. He pleats the rag and does the same to his softening cock and surrounding skin.

It feels so strangely intimate, more than the sex somehow.

Steve tugs on a fresh pair of boxers and gives you a faded Hawkins Phys. Ed tee to change into. The loose fabric and baggy fit feels much more familiar than the costume you’d initially arrived in. He might be happier than you are, though, to finally get to see you in your most natural state — makeup sufficiently smudged away and ill-suited clothes forgotten on his floor.

You crawl beneath the mussed navy comforter of his bed and smush your face into his pillow. “See? The dino sheets aren’t so bad, are they?” the boy teases when you hum in contentment.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he settles in beside you.

You smile but don’t open your eyes. “I’m just sleepy… Sue me.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock, grandma.”

“It’s your fault,” you argue, voice dripping with exhaustion. Your skin purrs as he reaches blindly beneath the covers to rub his palm along your forearm.

He grins softly to himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You wore me out, Harrington.”

“I’ll make it up to you in the morning, ‘kay?” he promises, then laughs when you smirk and raise your brows — eyes still shut. “Not like that, you perv. I was talking about breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.”

You tell him you’re looking forward to it, to breakfast in bed and breakfast in bed. He falls further for you somehow, despite his lingering disdain for your silly little innuendos. It’s the price you have to pay when you love someone, he figures, like when your crush gets a bad haircut or has shit music taste.

It’s a quirk he welcomes along with your many others — your rambling and forgetfulness and social unawareness and inability to sit still. All your little idiosyncrasies weren’t obstacles he had to get over to love you, just more reasons for him to.

And it isn’t this one-sided thing, either. Most people would look at the two of you — at the dowager king and local freak — and they’d think he was doing charity work to love you. But Steve’s got peculiarities of his own.

His best friends are a fourteen-year-old nerd and a closeted lesbian because they were the first two people in his life that didn’t judge him. He chews on the ends of pens and pencils, and his handwriting is shit because he never cared about school. He buys things without ever looking the price tag, then leaves them to collect dust in his room because he never really needed them anyway. He still feels the need to be the center of attention sometimes because the faintest hint of disregard makes him feel neglected.

These are all things you’re aware of. Most of them came with being the wealthy, popular kid from the right side of the tracks. And you liked him anyway — no, you liked him because of them. You adored him through all the heavy shit, and here he was, doing a shit job at pretending to like metal music and horror movies.

“Are you asleep?” Steve wonders after a few moments of velvet silence. He’s still looking at you, one arm propped beneath his hand and the other toying with your fingers splayed on the mattress between you. He hasn’t been able to stop looking at you.

“Almost,” you mumble in response.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Your heart stops at the innocent question, tired eyes flying immediately open and knocking you out of your fatigued stupor.

All of a sudden, it’s 1984 again. You’re the weirdo who bites people and Steve’s royalty who’ll fuck anything that walks — and here you are, in bed with the asshole. For a moment, you expect Tommy Hagan to bust out of the closet with a tape recorder and for Steve to tell you this was all just some stupid bet.

It’s a pang of blue lightning, an ice pick to your abdomen, that lasts no more than a couple of seconds.

Internally, you curse yourself for getting so worked up. You make a promise to yourself to work on all that — the regressing and the disbelief that comes with the not-feeling-good-enough bullshit.

“Yeah?” you finally answer.

“I don’t actually like Dio. Or Def Leppard,” he confesses, finding it hard to meet your gaze like a child who’s been caught in a lie. He focuses on running his thumb over the irregular pattern of your chipped nailpolish. “And I don’t collect vinyls either, not really. I just… I kinda just said those things so you’d like me.”

And, compared to the web you were just spinning in your head, that’s nothing.

“Ooh,” you wince playfully. “Def Leppard I could take, but Dio? I don’t know… That might be a dealbreaker, Harrington.”

He only smiles because he can tell you’re making fun. “I could learn to like them, you know? If it means that much to you. That’s what we’re doing now, right? Loving things on purpose?”

You capture your smile with your bottom lip between your teeth. Your eyes sparkle at him when you nod. “Yeah… We are.”

“Which means you could learn to like football and Bruce Springsteen,” Steve jokes and shifts on the mattress so he’s closer to you.

Your feet bump together, then entwine effortlessly. He plops his head on the same pillow you’re using. The proximity leaves your faces no more than a couple inches apart.

You scrunch your nose, wondering if you should hide your disgust in his playful request or make a joke out of it. You don’t do either. “I could… If it means I get to keep you.”

“Keep me?” he scoffs. “Good luck, getting rid of me, Punchy.”

“Who said I wanted to, huh?”

“You will. When you get sick of me.”

He’s smiling like he’s kidding, but you can tell there’s an edge of self-loathing to his tone.

Your hand crawls from beneath his own and settles on his stubbly jaw. You run your thumb over the cheek, effectively sealing your promise into the blushing apple of it. “I’m never gonna get sick of you, Steve Harrington.”

His brows raise. “No?”

You shake your head against the pillow, then shove the side of your face further into it when you get nervous. There’s a timid quirk to the corners of your lips and a more sheepish glint in your eye. “You don’t get sick of people you love,” you tell him.

Steve opens his mouth to retort. He wants to tell you that he gets sick of Dustin all the time, but that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love the little shit. He gets sick of milkshakes and pizza and Cheers re-runs when he consumes too much of them in a single setting, but he loves all those things too.

You get sick of things because you love them, he reasons, because you love them too hard and you hate how much you need them.

He doesn’t get the chance to argue any of this, though.

“Not when you love them on purpose,” you clarify with a sunshine-coated grin.

That shuts him up real quick.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stevie oneshot #st oneshots #punchy x steve

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canadianlucifer · 3 months

Text

Yeah okay I'll finally make a post on my latest Takizawa headcanon bc ever since I made the connection I couldn't stop thinking about it.

In short, I think he probably has npd, or narcissistic personality disorder.

Now I wanna make it clear I'm not a professional, I'm not giving any diagnosis or anything here, this is just what I've observed through his behaviour and how I think it fits the criteria.

I'm going to be mostly focused on his human character, might bring up a point or two from :re, but it's just gonna be the good brown haired boy for the most part.

Going through the list in the DSM-V, first is: a grandiose sense of self-importance (exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)

We first see this when he criticises Juuzou for eating in the meeting room and not listening to him because he's older. He's not proven himself to be actually superior, but he believes he is.

And again later when he's jealous Juuzou gets to go on the Aogiri raid and he's left behind to do paperwork.

Second piece is preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love.

Now, we don't exactly ever see him like, just sitting there thinking about being promoted or whatever, but it is known that he desperately wants one.

Third is believing that they are "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)

I don't have any solid proof or screenshots for this one, but it stands to reason that this is likely why he joined the CCG in the first place. Investigators are strong and "special", and we never see him interact with people who aren't investigators outside of Hide, who he really only seems to vent to, someone he probably doesn't see as an "equal"

Fourth, requiring excessive admiration.

Again, no solid proof, but he often seems desperate for praise for his work and to be recognized.

Fifth is a sense of entitlement (unreasonable expectations of especially favourable treatment or automatic compliance with their expectations)

See point 1, he feels entitled to Juuzou's compliance and to go on the raid.

Now, point six, being interpersonally exploitative (taking advantage of others to achieve their own ends), I don't think I've seen. At least, not as a human. In :re I can totally see him using Aogiri to eventually regain the CCG's trust as an example though.

Seven, lacking empathy (unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others), is a hard one.

The way I see it is that he sort of has empathy, but only for the attention. In one of the screenshots I added earlier he says he wants to get promoted so he can help people, but if we look at that statement through another lens, it could become "I want to help people so they thank and congratulate me"

Eight though, often being envious of others or believing that others are envious of them, hoo boy is he a jealous guy.

Like, I don't even need to say anything here, do I?

He is jealous of anyone better than him in anything and everyone around him knows it.

And finally, nine, showing arrogant, haughty behaviours or attitudes.

Again, when he wanted to go on the Aogiri raid, but this is most clearly seen as a ghoul to be honest. Especially :re volume 3, he's destroying squads with little apparent effort, fights Haise while making snarky remarks, and that monolouge he gives to those two investigators reads so much like "I'm better than you for having figured this out"

A few other things outside of the diagnostic criteria I would like to add is how he clearly has a strong hierarchy, like he views any investigators his rank or lower as below him and any investigators ranked above him as great

Something else is that narcissistic people often don't have high self esteem

And though he may talk big, it's clear he's not very confident about facing the Owl

These are just a few of my thoughts, definitely not everything, and it's not like he perfectly fits the criteria, but I just saw more traits in him than I didn't.

Just another headcanon of mine to add to the list

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul re #seidou takizawa #takizawa seidou #npd

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tutchando74 · 9 months

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About the ABC's of your OC's, could you do about the human from Humanity?

Sure.

A: Aptitude

1. What are your oc’s natural abilities, things they’ve been doing since young?

Human is naturally a quick learner. He learned how to make a robot with the age of 8, same with Tessa.

2. What activities have they participated in?

He was one of the lead engineers in the disassembly program.

3. What abilities do they have that they’ve worked for?

All the disassembly perks, since he had to manually put them in his body and his combat skills.

4. What things are they bad at?

See past his emotions.

5. What is their most impressive talent?

His inteligence.

B: Basics

1. What is their hair color?

White.

2. What is their eye color?

His right eye is dark brown, but his left one is yellow, since it was replaced with a disassembly visor.

3. How tall are they?

1,79 meters.

4. how old are they?

He has around 30 - 40 years.

5. how much do they weigh?

89 KG.

C: Comfort

1. How do they sit in a chair?

Legs crossed.

2. in what position do they sleep?

Chest up and his entire body straight.

3. what is their ideal comfort day?

Calm days, where nothing happens and he can just chill.

4. what is their major comfort food? why?

Apples, it reminds him of good days.

5. who is the best at comforting them when down?

It used to be Tessa, but nowdays it's N.

D: Decoration

1. How would they decorate a house if they had one under their name?

He would decorate it like a normal house, nothing fancy, but good nontheless.

2. how would they decorate their child’s room?

Like a normal parent would, but trying to not be too childish.

3. how do they decorate their own room?

He wouldn't decorate his room much, it would be kinda messy.

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear?

He wears a white shirt and jeans with a black shoe and a watch.

5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends?

Not really, he alredy accepted that he was ruined in the landing, so he doesn't care that much.

E: External Personality

1. Does the way they do things portray their internal personality?

Yes.

2. Do they do things that conform to the norm?

Yes.

3. Do they follow trends or do their own thing?

A mix of both.

4. Are they up-to-date on the internet fads?

Not really, he knows the important things, but not much aside from that.

5. Do they portray their personality intentionally or let people figure it out on their own?

He lets people figure it out.

F: Fun

1. What do they do for fun?

Look to the sky.

2. What is their ideal party?

One full of his friends, old friends and even some of his enemies.

3. Who would they have the most fun with?

He had a lot of fun with Tessa, but nowdays he really enjoys the company of the main trio (V, N and Uzi)

4. Can they have fun while conforming to rules?

Yes.

5. Do they go out a lot?

Yes.

G: Gorgeous

1. What is their most attractive external feature?

He doesn't have one, said by himself.

2. what is the most attractive part of their personality?

His kind side.

3. what benefits come with being their friend?

He'll try to help you as much as he can.

4. what parts of them do they like and dislike?

He dilikes his body and social life, but likes his current state in life.

5. what parts of others do they envy?

Their complete parts.

H: Heat

1. Do they rather a hot or cold room?

A warm room.

2. Do they prefer summer or winter?

Spring.

3. Do they like the snow?

Kinda.

4. Do they have a favorite summer activity?

Hiding from the sun, he has a lot of fun doing this.

5. Do they have a favorite winter activity?

Cleaning the snow.

I: In-the-closet

1. What is their sexuality?

Heterossexual.

2. Have they ever questioned their sexuality?

No.

3. Have they ever questioned their gender?

No.

4. Would/was their family be okay with them being LGBT?

No.

5. How long would/did it take for them to come out?

If he was LGBT, he would only come out after his parents stopped taking care of him.

J: Joy

1. What makes them happy?

His friends and the sky.

2. Who makes them happy?

His friends.

3. Are there any songs that bring them joy?

Classic music.

4. Are they happy often?

Yes, even if he doesn't show it.

5. What brings them the most joy in the world?

Calm days where he can chill with his friends and look at the sky.

K: Kill

1. Have they ever thought about suicide?

Yes, but never wanted to actually do it.

2. Have they ever thought about homicide?

Yes.

3. If they could kill anyone without punishment, would they? who?

He would kill most peaople in JCJenson.

4. who would miss them if they died?

The main trio and Tessa.

5. Who would be happy they died, anyone?

JCJenson.

L: Lemons

1. What is their favorite fruit?

Apples.

2. What is their least favorite fruit?

Pineapple.

3. Are there any foods they hate?

No.

4. Do they have any food intolerances?

No.

5. What is their favorite food?

Apples.

M: Maternal

1. Would they want a daughter or a son?

Kinda.

2. How many children do they want?

1 or 2.

3. Would they be a good parent?

Kinda.

4. What would they name a son? what would they name a daughter?

Probably Henry and Elisa.

5. Would they adopt?

Yes.

N: Never Have I Ever

1. What would they never do?

Most things that are against the law.

2. What have they never done that they want to do?

Destroy a company.

3. Is there anything they absolutely can’t believe people do?

No.

4. What is the most embarrassing thing they’ve done?

Made a Sex Drone.

5. Have they done anything they thought they’d never do?

Put robot parts in his body.

O: Optimism

1. Are they optimistic or pessimistic?

A mix of both.

2. Are they openly optimistic, throwing it on others?

Not much.

3. Are they good at giving advice?

Kinda.

4. Is there anyone in their life that throws optimism on them?

Yes.

5. Were they always optimistic?

Yes.

P: Personality

1. What is their best personality trait?

Caring for his friends and being smart.

2. What is their worst personality trait?

He can be dismissive of others feelings.

3. What of their personality do others love?

His kind side.

4. What of their personality do others envy?

His inteligence.

5. Do they hate anything about their personality/about other’s personalities?

He hates the lack of care others have, and hates that he is that way sometimes.

Q: Questions

1. Do they ask for help?

When needed.

2. Do they ask questions in class?

He never had questions for the teachers, so no.

3. Do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable?

Depends on who is asking.

4. Do they ask weird questions?

With embarrassment.

5. Are they curious?

Yes.

R: Rules

1. Do they follow rules?

Most he does.

2. Would they be a strict or laid-back parent?

Laid back, maybe too much.

3. Have they ever been consequenced for breaking a rule?

Yes.

4. Have they broken any rules they now regret breaking?

Kinda, but not much.

5. Do they find any rules they/others follow absolutely ridiculous?

Yes, specially the JCJenson ones.

S: Streets

1. Are they street-smart?

Yes.

2. Would they give money to someone on the streets?

No.

3. Have they ever gotten in a fight on the streets?

No.

4. Has anything happened to them on the streets?

Yes.

5. Are they cautious when out?

Yes.

T: Truth

1. Are they honest?

Most times.

2. Can they tell if someone is lying?

Only if he knows them.

3. Is it obvious when they’re lying?

No.

4. Have they lied about anything they regret lying about?

Yes.

5. Have they told truths that have been spread against their will?

No.

U: Underdog

1. Have they been bullied?

There were attempts, but they were never able to.

2. Have they bullied anyone?

No.

3. Have they been physically attacked by a bully?

No.

4. Have they ever been doubted?

Yes.

5. Have they surprised people with being good at something?

Yes.

V: Vomit

1. Do they vomit often?

No.

2. Do they get lots of stomach aches?

No.

3. Are they good at comforting someone ill?

No, all he knows to do is give the right medicines.

4. What do they like as far as comfort goes?

Anything that helps him and others.

5. Do they burp, cough, or hiccup most when nauseous? when vomiting?

He coughs a lot when nauseous.

W: Water

1. Do they drink enough water?

Yes.

2. Have they learned to swim?

Yes.

3. Do they like to swim?

No.

4. Can they dive?

Yes.

5. Can they swim without holding their nose?

Yes.

X: Xylophone

1. What is their favorite genre of music?

Classic music.

2. Do they have a favorite song?

Not exactly.

3. Do they have a favorite band/artist/singer?

Not really, he never looked into what band or singer was in the music.

4. Can they sing well?

Absolutely not.

5. Can they rap?

No.

Y: You

1. How old were you when you created them?

15 years old.

2. What inspired you to create them?

Honestly, I don't remember.

3. Were they different when they were first created?

Not much.

4. Do you enjoy writing them more than other characters?

Yes.

5. What’s your favorite thing about them?

When he's calm.

Z: Zebra

1. What’s their favorite animal?

Birds.

2. Do they like animals?

Kinda.

3. Cats or dogs?

Dogs for fun, bu cats for freedom.

4. What’s their dream pet?

A giant bird.

5. Do they have any pets at the moment?

No.

This was big, holy fuck.

#murder drones #murder drones au #Human #Humanity #Murder Drones Oc #Oc #original character

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cocobeanncteez · 3 years

Text

ATEEZ Hongjoong: Tame (Part 1)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 5k in this part. (Part 2, Part 3, Final Part)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking. Unprotected sex (pulling out), facesitting.

Other than Ateez, all other names are fictional.

"Where have you brought me?" you questioned, looking up at your uncle in pure detestation when he pushed you into a dark room and took off your blindfold.

"Change into that dress quickly," he replied, ignoring your question, pointing to a red dress lying on a chair. "It's time for me to make some good money." He smirked, giving you a look before leaving you alone in the dimly lit room.

You don't know why your uncle had brought you here. Your father recently went missing and now you were certain your uncle was behind it.

You rarely saw your father since you lived with your uncle and his family. Your mother passed away when you were a newborn and you have no siblings.

You glanced at the red dress your uncle told you to wear. It was quite short and had a deep V-neck. You sighed as you quickly wore the dress, looking into the dirty and damaged full-length mirror to see how it looked on you.

A woman dressed in a similar dress came inside the room. "I'm getting sold too," she said softly, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Sold? What do you mean?"

Before she could reply, two built men came into the room and grabbed you by the arms, forcefully dragging you out.

"Where are you taking me?!" you yelled, struggling to get your arms out of their strong grasp.

"Shut the fuck up if you don't want a bullet in your head," one the men said nonchalantly.

You could hear the familiar voice of your uncle and you assumed he was talking through a mic. You were thrown onto a stage, bright lights shining on you that blinded your vision.

Once your eyes adjusted to the light, you could see about a hundred people in the room, staring at you from head to toe.

"So who would like to buy this beauty?" your uncle yelled. All the men and even some of the women started yelling while raising their hands. You shivered, realizing that you were in some sort of human trafficking auction. Your eyes immediately teared up. How cruel could your uncle be? How cruel could all these people here be, selling humans like that?

You looked around, checking to see if there was any way to escape, but there were way too many guards, so you decided to go with the flow for now.

"We're starting from 50 million won," your uncle stated after the crowd calmed down.

You saw someone in the crowd raise a sign with their name and a number on it. "50 million!"

"70 million!"

"140 million!"

"250 million!"

"400 million!" a man yelled, causing everyone to keep quiet.

"400 million... going once, going—"

"500 million!" another man yelled. You could hear whispers all around you. You couldn't even believe how rich these people were, all their money obviously obtained through illegal means.

"500 million... Going once... going twice... sold!" your uncle said cheerfully and started clapping. "Congratulations, Mr. Byun! She's all yours!"

Two of Mr. Byun's men took you away and made you sit in a black car while their boss made his payment. They were really handsome and dressed in suits. You were actually terrified, but you tried to act normal.

You saw a man with long hair and thick bushy eyebrows approach the car. He was wearing spectacles and had a thick moustache. He got into the car, looking at you as he sat beside you. You noticed that he had a gun in his pocket, making you wonder what exactly he does for a living, albeit you had a fair idea already.

"Start driving, Mingi," he said in a mellifluous voice to the red-haired man who was sitting in the driver's seat. Mingi nodded and started driving immediately while you kept quiet and looked outside the window, pondering about how you could escape.

"Take that shit off, hyung. It looks hideous on you," the other guy with blue hair said, grabbing your attention.

Mr. Byun took off his spectacles, fake moustache and eyebrows, and the wig. You didn't even realize that he was wearing a disguise before.

Your eyes widened when you saw him. His features were sharp and absolutely perfect. He looked like he was going to shoot for some fashion magazine. He seemed to be around your age; so did the other two guys.

You didn't realize that you were gawking at him until Mingi chuckled. "Someone is shocked."

You blushed in embarrassment, instantly looking away. You cleared your throat. "I was just wondering why Mr. Byun was wearing a disguise."

"Oh Byun is just a fake name he used," Mingi said. "His name is actually Hongjoong."

And that's when it hit you.

"Hongjoong? As in, Kim Hongjoong of Ateez?" you blurted out, making all the three men's eyes widen.

Hongjoong quickly reached under the car seat, pulling out handcuffs before swiftly handcuffing you. He took his tie off and used it as a blindfold for you.

Your hands were handcuffed to the armrest of a chair. You really hoped these guys weren't Ateez. But after seeing the other five men once they removed your blindfold, you knew it was really them: the eight most feared men in the crime world in the country.

You were so fucked; especially since you were in an interrogation room with an unconscious bleeding man in the corner.

"How do you know me? How do know Ateez?" Hongjoong asked coldly, a small hint of panic in his eyes. You regretted opening your mouth before.

You averted your gaze from the bleeding man. "I... overheard my uncle talk about you," you answered honestly.

"Hongjoong, let San take care of this," one of the taller guys with black curly hair said.

"No, Seonghwa, I've got this," Hongjoong said, his eyes not leaving you.

Seonghwa only rolled his eyes. "San."

Another guy with pink hair nodded before approaching you. Hongjoong sighed in frustration before moving to the side, letting San replace him. You could easily tell that Hongjoong had a short temper.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions so please cooperate," San said with a sweet smile, letting his dimples show. You would've melted for that smile if you didn't know that he was extremely dangerous. "So tell me, what is your name?"

"Kiah... Moon Kiah," you replied.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 21."

"Who is your uncle who told you about us?"

You took a deep breath, already exhausting from the questioning. "Moon Younghyun." All the eight men look surprised.

"Your uncle sold you, his own niece, at a human auction?" Seonghwa asked with a frown and you nodded in response.

"That bastard," Mingi growled, surprising you. Why was he pissed about that?

"What did your uncle tell you about us, Kiah?" San questioned.

You bit your lip nervously. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" San asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cause you'll shoot me or rape me to death due to how offensive it is," you mumbled. "And honestly, I'd rather not die that way." The boys were shocked at your sudden boldness, not expecting you to say that at all. Half of them looked offended.

"Excuse me, woman, we're not rapists," the guy with purple hair said, clearly offended.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I heard." You were wondering where your sudden confidence came from when these men could literally kill you in a fraction of a second.

"Well, then what did you hear?" San asked. "Tell us and we'll honestly tell you what's true and what's not." You contemplated that; you had nothing to lose anyway if they choose to kill you.

"I heard that Ateez is a mafia gang engaged in mostly human trafficking, drug deals, raping and murdering innocent people."

The guy with light brown hair, who looked like a Greek God, cleared his throat. "Out of everything you said, only the drug deals were true."

You snorted. "And why would I believe you?"

"Well, why would you believe your uncle who just sold you?" he retorted.

"But you guys fucking bought me at a human auction!"

"Would you rather be bought by someone else who would actually treat you like a fucking sex slave?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You kept quiet at that. "Believe me, Kiah, that's what the people there were for. They were all looking for sex slaves."

"Yeosang's right," San stated. "You should be grateful that we saved your life."

"What were you guys doing there then?" you questioned. "If you claim that you don't do all that, then why were you there in the first place?"

"Your uncle is our enemy. We had to see what he was up to," Yunho answered.

"Then why did you buy me?"

"You ask way too many questions," Hongjoong snapped in an annoyed tone, trying not to lose his temper completely.

"Joong, chill," Seonghwa said, making Hongjoong roll his eyes.

Mingi moved to stand in front of you. "I was the one who begged Hongjoong to adopt you," he said with a smile.

"Terrible decision," Hongjoong muttered under his breath.

You snorted. "Adopt?"

Mingi shrugged. "I don't like the word 'bought' so we're just going to say that."

You smiled a little at his words. "All right, Mingi, care to explain why you... adopted me?"

Mingi grinned. "Well, I've seen you a couple of times near your university’s hospital," he stated, making the guys look at him in surprise; they didn't know Mingi knew your face before. "And besides, you're beautiful. It would be such a waste if you were sold as a sex slave when you're so talented." Hongjoong gives Mingi a look that didn't go unnoticed by you.

You chuckled. "What makes you think I'm talented?"

"I've done my research," he said. "You're the only nursing student intern who is allowed to watch surgeries and help in minor ones."

"No wonder you wanted to adopt her," Yunho remarked.

You heard a groan behind you, coming from the bleeding man who just gained consciousness. You felt really bad for him.

"Don't worry about him," Yeosang said, noticing the concern in your eyes. "He deserved it."

"Why?" you murmured. "What did he do?"

"You wouldn't want to know," Seonghwa laughed before turning to one of the guys. "Remove the handcuffs, Jongho."

Jongho nodded and unlocked the handcuffs around your wrists with a key. You stretched your arms out in front of you, feeling a little free now.

"All right, I can go home..." you trailed off, realizing that you didn't have a home anymore. Your uncle would definitely sell you again if you went back there. Looks like you would have to crash at a friend's place.

"I'm afraid we can't let you go," Hongjoong stated.

Your eyes widened. "You're keeping me hostage?!"

"You know too much about us," San said with a small smile. "We're sorry."

You scoffed, getting up from the chair. "I refuse to be a fucking prisoner here in your dungeon!"

"Holy fuck, you're so tiny!" Yunho said in awe, stepping forward to tower over you. "I think I'm a foot taller than you! How cute!" he squealed. Was this guy really in the Mafia?

Before you could respond, Yunho lifted you up like a baby. "I'm gonna show you the house."

He carried you out of the interrogation room and up a flight of stairs until you reached a living room that could easily fit more than three hundred people. Your eyes widened at the sight of it; surely this was a joke, right?

You were in a luxurious mansion.

You glanced around in awe, noticing how one side of the living room had floor to ceiling windows, complemented with maroon and gold curtains. There was a large open-kitchen right next to the living room, and a wooden staircase on the other side where pictures adorned the wall. You wondered how many rooms were in this mansion and what the exterior looked like.

Yunho set you down on your feet. "You're free to move around the house, Kiah. We aren't going to lock you up," he said, chuckling at your stunned reaction.

"How many rooms does this place have?" you questioned while walking around the living room.

Wooyoung plopped himself on one of the sofas. "There's nine bedrooms, ten bathrooms, and six other rooms for different purposes."

"The guest room is still under renovation, so you will be sleeping in Hongjoong's room for the time being," Mingi informed.

"What?!" You and Hongjoong yelled in unison.

"Not the bad temper guy of all people!" you whined, making all the guys except Hongjoong laugh. "Can't I sleep in your room instead?"

"You could," Mingi laughed. "But then my girlfriend would have my head."

"There's a woman in this house? Thank fucking goodness!" you sighed in relief.

Jongho chuckled. "There's three, actually. Well, now four."

"Where are they?" you questioned.

"Seonghwa's girl is on a mission so you'll see her next week," San replied. "I don't know where Mingi's girl is, and my girl is—"

"Hi!" you heard someone yell before running and pulling you into a tight hug. She pulled away and gave you a bright smile; you liked her already. "I'm Jiwoo!"

San chuckled at his girlfriend's actions before moving to wrap his arms around her waist. He kissed her forehead, making her smile. They were so cute! "This is my girlfriend, Jiwoo. Babe, this is Kiah."

"San and Jiwoo are the hyper couple here," Yunho stated. "They're both just so full of energy."

"We're going to be great friends, I'm sure of it!" Jiwoo said, making you smile.

Maybe living here wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Hongjoong's bedroom was huge. The walls were a penny brown and most of the decor was white and beige. There was a large TV right in front of the king sized bed. There was also a small flight of stairs leading down to a Jacuzzi that could fit six people in it.

You realized that you didn't have any clothes except for the red dress you were wearing right now. You didn't even have a phone anymore.

You heard footsteps behind you, making you turn to the source. A shirtless Hongjoong walked past you to the wardrobe, stripping until he was left only in his Calvin Klein hip briefs. You couldn't help but stare as he picked out some clothes to sleep in. You absentmindedly bit your lip when he wore his grey sweatpants and a black tank top. You quietly left the bathroom after washing your face, hoping he didn't notice you staring.

After several seconds, Hongjoong came into the bedroom, stretching his hands above his head. "You're gonna sleep in that?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "I don't have anything else to sleep in."

Hongjoong sighed before heading back to the wardrobe, coming back with a plain white t-shirt. He tossed it to you and you went to the bathroom to change. His t-shirt smelled so pleasant, you couldn't stop inhaling the scent.

When you went back to the bedroom, Hongjoong was in deep thought. "You know," he started, looking at you from head to toe, secretly loving the way his t-shirt looked on your small form. "I just realized that you didn't really protest to live here."

You sat on his springy bed. "Well, I don't have anywhere else to go."

He scoffed. "Or maybe you just want to live here."

"I used to live with my uncle. If I had my own place, I wouldn't even spend a second here," you deadpanned.

"So you've never worked?" he asked. "Not even a part time job?"

"Do you think medical students have time for that?" you retorted.

"Whatever," he mumbled. "Looks like you'll get along with Yeosang and Seonghwa."

"What makes you think that?"

"They're Ateez's doctors," he stated. "Well, Yeosang mainly works as our hacker, but he's almost as skilled as Seonghwa.

There was some silence for a while until you spoke, "Are we even in Seoul right now?"

"We're at the outskirts," Hongjoong answered. "Gwanak-san, to be precise."

"Ah, near my university!" you said happily. "Actually, you know what?"

"What?"

"I can stay with a friend," you said. "He has an apartment right beside my university."

Hongjoong chuckled, but he clearly wasn't amused at all. "I'm afraid that's not possible, love." Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said 'love' but you ignored it.

You frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, you already know too much about us," he stated. "Besides, you've already entered the Mafia world. There's no going back."

Your blood boiled. "I don't give a fuck, Hongjoong. I didn't ask you to buy me and pull me into your stupid Mafia world!" your voice was rising.

Hongjoong got annoyed at the way you raised your voice at him. "For your information, you got pulled into this world the second your uncle got involved in it! You lived with someone who's in the fucking Mafia!"

"At least my life was normal!" you retorted.

"You know what? Fine!" Hongjoong raised his voice, scaring you a little. "I'll personally drop you at your fucking uncle's house tomorrow, okay?!"

"You don't get to decide that and I'm not going back to that monster!"

"Then shut the fuck up and appreciate the shelter you've been given here goddammit!" Hongjoong runs a hand through his hair in frustration. You just keep quiet, looking away while your eyes filled with tears.

"Why the fuck did I even agree to buy a brat like you?" he murmured, but you heard him.

"Fuck yourself," you whispered.

In a flash, you were on your back, Hongjoong hovering above you.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that! You make me want to punish you so fucking bad," Hongjoong growled. Your heart was racing at how close he was.

"Get the fuck off me," you said, avoiding eye contact.

He grabbed your chin, making you look at him. "You piss me off so much, Moon Kiah."

You controlled the urge to roll your eyes. "Well, then tame your damn temper, Kim Hongjoong."

"Tame your attitude first, love," he chuckled bitterly before getting off of you. He lied on his back, looking up at the ceiling of his room. He clapped twice and the lights turn off, making the room pitch-black.

You bit your lip, wondering what to do. You couldn't stay here; you didn't even want to. You weren't meant for the Mafia world— you decided to get into the medical field so that you could save lives, not take them away.

You wanted to run away right now, even though it was half past midnight. But you needed a plan since you don't exactly know where you are were.

"I just realized," Hongjoong starts, smirking in the dark. "You haven't protested to sleeping on the same bed as me."

You snorted. "Why would I?"

"That's what girls usually do, don't they? And the guy will offer to take the couch instead of her."

"Well, I'm not like other girls," you stated. "I'd rather sleep on a bed than a couch outside, and I'm sure you'd prefer that as well. Besides, this is a king-sized bed. There's plenty of room for both of us. In fact, there's extra space cause you're tiny."

Hongjoong snorted. "Excuse me, I'm not tiny."

"You are."

"I'm more than half a foot taller than you, Kiah."

You shrugged. "Doesn't matter, tiny boy. You're still tinier than the other seven boys."

"But I lead them," Hongjoong said proudly with a smirk that you obviously couldn't see.

"What do you mean?" you questioned without thinking.

"Think, love," he answered.

You gave it a thought before your eyes widened in realization. "You're a... Mafia King."

He chuckled. "We actually use the term 'boss' but I like that," he said, pulling the blanket over your bodies.

"So the other seven boys follow your orders," it wasn't a question. You actually thought Seonghwa was the boss.

"Yup."

"I pity them," you murmured, but he heard you.

He scoffed. "You will be following my orders too," he said. "That's if we decide to make you one of us."

"Yeah... no, that's never gonna happen," you remarked. "I want to save lives, not take them away."

"Actually, you would want to take these lives away if you knew what these people do," he said, lying on his side to face you. "Ateez doesn't kill innocent people." You felt a little relieved at that; at least you knew you wouldn't die by a gunshot or something.

"And what do those people do that makes you want to kill them?" you questioned, turning onto your side as well so that you were facing him.

He snorted. "Do you really want to know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

"We usually kill rapists and human traffickers. These people mostly target women and children. They kidnap children, rape them, and then sell their organs within the country or internationally. The women are usually sold as sex slaves or kept in prostitution centers. Some mafia gangs own strip clubs where their strippers get assaulted or raped by customers and they do nothing about it."

"Your uncle used to run a fake orphanage," Hongjoong continues. "I came across that place when I was fifteen years old and found out that they were keeping those kids there to sell their organs. I told my parents about it and we bombed that place after rescuing those children, and put them in an actual proper orphanage. Two boys who were just a year younger than me had escaped from the orphanage. They ran after my parents just to thank them for saving their lives. My parents saw a lot of potential in the two boys and decided to take them in. That's how Yeosang and Wooyoung became a part of my family."

The story really broke your heart; you couldn't even imagine what those two had to go through when they were just in their early teens. You were curious about the other six boys' stories too. You wanted to ask Hongjoong about it, but now didn't seem like the right time.

You don't really know how and when you fell asleep after hearing all those disturbing things, but somehow you did.

And when you woke up, you were in Hongjoong's arms.

You tried to escape from him, but his hold around you was too strong. You gave up on trying and chose to admire his beautiful face instead.

You had to admit, Hongjoong was extremely handsome. You've never seen anyone look this good while they're asleep. He looked so soft and angelic, you found it hard to believe that he was in the mafia, let alone a mafia boss.

You heard a knock on the bedroom door before the door opened, revealing San and Jiwoo.

"Hi!" Jiwoo greeted. "Good morning!" You wondered how she had so much energy in the morning.

"I see you've slept well," San commented with a smirk while gesturing at Hongjoong's arms around you.

You blushed. "Help me." San easily lifted Hongjoong's arm off of you.

"He sleeps like he's in coma," San said, making you chuckle while you stretched your arms.

"We're going shopping today," Jiwoo said to you. "You need clothes."

"I don't have any money, Jiwoo," you said.

She snorted. "You don't have to worry about that, we're paying for you."

You opened your mouth to protest, but San interrupted you. "We don't have any plans of letting you go, Kiah. Think of it as a gift for joining us." You just nodded in response even though you wanted to disagree. You weren't going to join a mafia gang; that was the last thing you wanted to do.

You had to escape.

You had just come back from shopping with Jiwoo, exhausted from walking around the mall; you were pretty sure that she made you spend more than ten million won.

"So Kiah," Yeosang starts, sitting on the sofa beside Mingi and Seonghwa. "You're a medical student, right?"

"Yup, majoring in nursing," you nodded. "Hongjoong told me that you and Seonghwa are the doctors of the gang."

"What were you planning to do after graduation?" Seonghwa asked. You didn't miss how he used 'were' instead of 'are.'

You gently cleared your throat. "Well, I want to become a surgical nurse for the cardiac department."

"Ah, that's great!" he said with a smile. "I wanted to get into Neuro."

"Why didn't you?" you asked while absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair.

"Once you join the mafia, you have to sacrifice having a normal job," Yeosang replied nonchalantly. You couldn't tell if he was sad about it.

"I wanted to ask you all something," you murmured, but the three of them heard you clearly.

"You can ask us anything you want, Kiah," Mingi encouraged. "We'll answer everything."

"Well, if you're gonna keep me here..." you hesitated for a second. "Um, does that mean that I can't work?" Yeosang and Seonghwa exchanged a glance that didn't go unnoticed by you.

"You'll have to ask Hongjoong about that, but mostly yes. You won't be able to work," Seonghwa said. "It's too dangerous. You can only work for us." You only nodded, unhappy with the words you heard.

"Can I at least attend my own graduation?" you were mentally begging they would agree.

"When is it?" Yeosang asked.

"It's on the day after tomorrow."

"Of course you can," Hongjoong said, entering the living room and plopping down on one of the sofas.

"Really?!" you squealed in excitement.

"I was being sarcastic," he stated, making your smile immediately falter.

"I didn't study my ass off for nothing, Hongjoong," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He scoffed. "Do you think I care?"

"Well, I do." You were starting to get angry. Yunho entered the living room, not saying anything due to the tense atmosphere.

"You'll put us and people you know at risk," Hongjoong shrugged.

"That's your problem," you remarked, pissing him off. "I didn't ask you to buy me, Hongjoong."

"Adopt," Mingi mumbled, but you ignored him.

You and Hongjoong were locked in a glaring contest. Yunho cleared his throat after a while, catching Hongjoong's and your attention. "Hyung, you disguised yourself. No one knows that it was you who bought her."

"Adopted," Mingi murmured, getting ignored again.

Hongjoong gave it a thought. "Fine," he agreed. "But we all will attend it too, whether you like it or not."

“Deal.”

You were seated in your respective seat, desperately waiting for the graduation ceremony to get over even though one of Seoul's top doctors was invited to talk. All eight boys and Jiwoo were attending your graduation. You wished your father was here to watch you graduate.

Once the ceremony was finally over and all the students collected their diplomas, you all gathered around to throw your dark blue caps in the air.

"I can't believe we successfully survived four entire years," Dongyoon remarked.

"Time to try to survive med school now," Yonghwa said and Chanhee nodded in agreement; they were on the road to becoming doctors. "But for now, let's get fucking wasted!"

You were at one of Seoul's best nightclubs in Gangnam; you didn't tell anyone in Ateez that you'd leave with your university friends. This was your way of running away. You were going to stay with Chanhee until you found a place.

Being a Tuesday night, the club wasn't crowded. Most of the people here were definitely high school or university students. After all, it was graduation week in Korea.

You drank and danced with your friends until you were drunk as fuck and your feet hurt. You felt so relaxed, just paying attention to the blasting music while the alcohol in your system gave you some energy.

"Oh? Who do we have here?" you heard a familiar voice say behind you while you took another shot. You had no idea where your friends were.

You turned around and squinted to look at the man. "Moon Bojoon...?"

"Hello, sister," your cousin chuckled, putting his arms around your drunk form. You hated him with every fiber of your being— he tried to sexually assault you a couple of times. Living under the same roof as him was hell.

"Get your hands off me," you yelled over the loud music, weakly trying to push him away; he didn't even move an inch.

His grip around you tightened. "I wonder who father sold you to. How lenient are they to let their sex slave go out to party...? Or did you run away?"

You tried to push him away again. "Fuck off!"

He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you along until he reached the parking lot of the club. He pushed you harshly against his car, making you groan in pain when your head hit the window.

Bojoon moved his face closer to yours. "I'm gonna sell you this time," he whispered in your ear. "But I'll have my fun with you first, of course."

"Get away from me!" you yelled while your vision got blurry. Before you could comprehend what was even happening, you passed out.

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rosietrace · 2 years

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Roya Callistis

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“Apologies…. It seems I haven't been focused as of late.”

— Roya Callistis, Prince of Prophecy

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General Information

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Full Name — Roya Pendragon Callistis

↳ Roya; A name of Persian origin, meaning ‘vision, dream’.

↳ Pendragon; The epithet of Uther, the father of King Arthur, that quite literally means ‘chief dragon’ or ‘head dragon’.

↳ Callistis; Primarily a name of Latin origin, meaning ‘Very beautiful’. It is also a Latin form of the Greek name, Kallistos.

Japanese ver. — ロヤペンドラゴンカリスティス

Romaji ver. — Roya Pendoragon Karisutisu

Twisted from: King Arthur

❐ — Arthurian Legend

V/A(日本語): Kenjiro Tsuda(津田健二郎)

↳ Voices Nanami Kento from Jujutsu Kaisen

V/A(英語/EN): Nazeeh Tarsha

↳ Voices Al Haitham from Genshin Impact

Age: 18

Birthday: July 18th

Horoscope: Cancer ♋

Species: Human, Demon

Height: 187 cm

Hair color: Auburn

Eye color: Silver

Gender/Pronouns: Male, He/Him

Sexuality: Asexual, Panromantic

Dominant hand: Right

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Extra Information

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Homeland: Kingdom of Prophecy

『 Family:

Arthur Callistis — Father †

Rubina Winchester Callistis — Mother

Davidson Novellion — Older Cousin

Lancelot Novellion — Younger Cousin 』

Dormitory: TBA

School Year: 3rd Year

Class: 3-C(seat no. 17)

Club: Fencing Club

Best class(es): Physical education, Prophecy

Worst class(es): Herbology, Debate

Like(s): Fencing, swordsmanship in general, horseback riding, pie, braiding his hair, physical education, his family, archery, sparring

Dislike(s): Ducks, the current relationship with his mother, rumors spread by nobles and the like, his horns, the markings on his back, his ‘demonic’ features in general

Hobbies: Horseback riding, derby racing, horseback archery, swordsmanship, braiding one's hair, cleaning his sword by the palace lake, baking pie

Talent(s): Swordsmanship, ambidextrous, multilingual, horseback riding/archery, stamina, speed, fast reflexes

Flaw(s): Blunt, pessimistic, self-conscious of one's appearance, overly introverted, desperate in seeking the approval of others

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Personality

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Roya is well renowned, in the eyes of both nobility and peasantry alike. And with the number of skills he has, it's no wonder why.

Alas, in most cases, many often admire Roya for his looks. He wears an air of confidence, his head held high with a posture that embodies his status as crown prince.

….. At least at first glance. In actuality, Roya is painfully socially awkward.

Due to growing up the way he did, he's not exactly the person you go to for advice on socialization. If anything, he's the complete opposite of that.

He's not vocal about his opinion about several things. To Roya, silence is Golden, and better silent than being ousted for one's ‘heretical’ ideals.

In the few moments where he does speak his mind, he's discreet about it. Very discreet. His voice has a certain seriousness to it that many often mistake his — generally normal — words to be world-shattering critiques.

However, that isn't the case. Roya's nothing like Davis, after all. At least, that's what a great number of nobles say.

Roya views the world from a pessimistic point of view. Without the childhood that his mother failed to give him, Roya doesn't expect much from his future.

He knows he'll be King eventually, so he might as well make his attempt to enjoy what's left of his teenage years.

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“Unique Magic”: The Horned King(角のある王)

➳ The user transforms into a being that crosses the border between the demonic and the mortal.

Said user obtains a variety of demon-like traits, while also retaining their human features.

Those ‘demon-like’ traits include: A larger set of horns, a set of claws, black scleras, and fangs. Depending on how strong the effects of the curse ability are, those are the minimum traits the user gains.

The ‘ability’ gives the user the following increase in physical capabilities:

「 ↭ Increased physical strength

↭ Advanced sense of sight/hearing

↭ Increased speed

↭ Amplified hyper-awareness of one's surroundings 」

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Thoughts on them

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“.... My opinion of my son is none of your concern.”

— Rubina Callistis, Queen of Prophecy

“Hah! That bastard thinks he's so high and mighty, all because he's the headmaster's star pupil… Tsk, just thinking about him makes me sick!”

— Davidson Novellion, Roya's older cousin

“Davis doesn't particularly like Roya. He doesn't make it known in public, but he always has that look in his eyes that gives you the impression that he wants to look into our cousin's eyes as life leaves them. As for me…. I don't know. I just don't know.”

— Lancelot Novellion, Roya's younger cousin

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Additional Trivia

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✑ Main Theme: Skyfall by Adelle

✑ Backstory: 『 A prince most perfect 』

✑ OC Playlist: TBA

༝ㅤ･↝ㅤ˚ㅤ。↬ㅤ.ㅤ⋆ㅤ˚

➳ Roya named his horse “Midnight Barbara” /j

➳ …. Has a particularly fondness for a winter faerie in Night Raven College (side eyes @starry-night-rose )

➳ Has a vendetta against ducks for…. Seemingly unknown reasons. And he refuses to elaborate on it.

➳ Oftentimes, when staying in his palace, Roya cleans his swords near a lake that allegedly assisted King Arthur in the past.

➳ Roya's heard the story of King Arthur and Excalibur so many times, that it's more than likely that he can recite the entire story. Word for word.

➳ Roya's horns, along with the marking on his back, are a result of when Roya manifested his “unique magic” from when he was a child. And if you ask Roya, he considers his UM a curse, rather than a blessing.

➳ And apparently, so does his Mother.

[ This is all we're allowed to see… ]

Roya's tags

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Appearance

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#roya callistis • #『 roya 🗡️ 』

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#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #rsa oc #twst rsa #roya callistis #royal sword academy #royal sword academy oc #『 roya 🗡️ 』#roya x gwen #gwen x roya

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bvckleydiaz · 3 years

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400 Follower Celebration 🍾

I’m finally getting around to do this post (hold for the applause 👏🏼 ) I’m currently at 423 ha. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say and what to post about this.. I mean it’s taken me almost a week to finish it. That being said, I think I’m going to take a page out of @burzekbrettsey’s book and share some of my favorite blogs who’ve helped me get to where I am and ones that you should be following too!

@kelly-severide: Nikki! Oh my sweet sunshine. I could go on and on for hours talking about her. You are the definition of a soulmate best friend. She’s been such a supportive person from the very beginning. She doesn’t believe it, but she’s an artist is every aspect of the word. The content she makes continues to blow me away every time something new gets put out. She’s legit one of my favorite people on this planet. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you🧡

@loveyourownsmiilee: Juju! Oh lord where do i even start. I swear you are my other half. She has the “oliver sense” that comes into play whenever Oliver posts something and deletes it. I mean she snatches those ig stories like it’s her job! We constantly talk about Oli and Ryan. Those are our boys and no one can say any different. She has one of the most positive blogs out there! She has such a bright, beautiful, and kind soul. I’m so glad we found each other 🤍

@burzekbrettsey: Sky! My bestie. We haven’t known each other for long, but I feel like it’s been ages! You are my favorite person to freak out with over Jay Halstead and his thigh holster. I mean that’s such a beautiful sight! Secondly, you are an AMAZING baker!! Have y’all seen the things she can make?!! When she opens her own bakery later in life I’m going to be her number one supporter! I have a feeling it’s always going to be you, nikki and I against the world. Forever homies 🧁

@matan4il: Alice! First off, if you aren’t following her, you are MISSING OUT! Her stories are everything! Since day one I’ve called her the smut queen and she has never disappointed. Her friendship is something I cherish so much in life. She’s the absolute sweetest. If I’m ever having a bad day, she somehow knows it, and helps talk me through it. I’m so grateful for you! ❤️

@fernnette: Fern! We go WAY back! You’ve seen me at my worst (aka the twitter fandom) and yet you still wanna be friends with me.. I don’t know why, but I’m grateful! I can’t even put into words how awesome you are. I’m so glad you made the discord when you did. I feel we’ve grown closer and we’ve made some amazing friends out of it. You are SUCH A TALENTED WRITER. I’m forever stuck on you and your writings. legit the first thing that comes to my mind when i think of you is #horny-jail. Also, as I’m typing this up you are in the discord writing your ass off and it’s v inspirational. like i wanna hop on over and write some. i can’t wait to see what’s coming up next from you 💛

@kenroczen: Jamie! My twin. Eddie Diaz simps unite! Although we get sad when we get someone new in the discord and we lose them to the evan buckley simps, Im glad we got each other! I love being able to talk all things ryan and eddie with you. Oh and don’t even get me started on the big bird gif! I die of laughter every single time someone is talking eddie/ryan with me and you come in out of nowhere. You are the best! ❣️

@doctornineandthreequarters: Jaime! My GGG buddy!! I never would’ve thought I’d bond with someone over buddie and that lead me to bonding over Guy’s Grocery Games. You’re writings are phenomenal! I don’t know how you do it, but you get those fics out so easily. You put so much into your fics and it shows! You’re such a talent! 🖤

@ineedapuppyandsomevodka: Mikayla! I truly didn’t think I’d ever find someone else who has the same inappropriate mindset like me, but here you are! You are relatable in every aspect. Your writings are some of my absolute favorite! Even the same drabbles have me weak. You’re so supportive of me in the discords and I hope I’m at least half as helpful as you are. I’m super grateful for you 💙

@buddie-buddie: Ella! First off, if you don’t know Ella, she’s the mastermind behind the White House AU universe!! She’s BRILLIANT! Whenever I see you in my notifications I can’t believe it. I’m sorry but this amazing writer and human being is in my notifs?!! What even? I know we’ve only become mutuals recently, but I’ve been following your writings since the beginning. I can’t tell you how excited I get when I see an email saying you updated. You are the absolute best! I hope we get to know each other more in the future! 💗

@sneetchestoo: You are so freaking supportive! I can always count on you to be in my notifications. You give me opinions, advice, and help me through hard time. You’re such a sweetheart 💚

@woodchoc-magnum: Felicity! We don’t get to interact very often, but let me tell you when you followed me?!! OH MY LORD I WENT OFF THE WALL. You are in my top 3 favorite writers of all time. You are such a glorious writer. Like all props to you my love! I swear I fangirl a tad bit whenever I see you in my notifs. Thank you for sharing your talents with us 🤎

and the honorable mentions: there’s so many others that I’m grateful for. I say it often, but i don’t know how I have this many followers! Thank you all for being so kind and supporting this, all over the place, blog 💝

@maygrant @trkstrnd @sixringss @siriuslyjamie @seik-o @shameless-aquarius @sometimesimfandomtrash @princessfbi @javachik @imaginebuck @captaincasey @gins-potter @thisissirius @hotchsbabygirl @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @blakestrand126 @selenaurrr @sunshinestrand @tkandbuck

Cheers 🥂

#400 followers #bvckleydiaz #mutuals

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vikingqueer · 3 years

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music recommendations because i have some thoughts™

i don't wanna be that person who's like "my music taste is so weird lol" but i find that very often most of my friends don't really care for the music i like so i thought i'd just make a long ass post about it on tumblr instead. Fair warning, I'm very passionate about MIKA and The Mechanisms and so this very quickly got VERY long because it is part of my ongoing campaign to convince people to listen to mika and the mechs.

1) MIKA in general, but especially My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019) and No Place In Heaven (2015) (especially the Deluxe version!!)

MIKA is a kind of British singer (half Lebanese, grew up in France blabla), and you probably know him for Grace Kelly and Relax, Take It Easy from his first album Life In Cartoon Motion from 2007. He writes a lot of FUN music, interspersed with the occasional slightly sadder song, especially when looking at an album like No Place In Heaven, which contains a lot of songs with gay themes, resulting in some songs that are just a little bit ouch. He's originally classically trained and has a frankly RIDICULOUS range and idk he just writes very good pop music. Also I have so much respect for that time he talked about how a lot of pop is very fake, with like expensive cars and stilettos and mini skirts in the snow and said "Because I walk down the street, and I don't see any of that. I see fat women and gay men. I don't know... That's real". He's written 5 albums; My Name Is Michael Holbrook (2019), No Place In Heaven (2015), The Origin Of Love (2012), The Boy Who Knew Too Much (2009), and Life In Cartoon Motion (2007).

For starters, I recommend listening to Last Party, Origin Of Love, Grace Kelly, Blame It On The Girls, Blue, Happy Ending, Pick Up Off The Floor, Last Party, Underwater, Tomorrow and Tiny Love (yes this is a long list but i REALLY love MIKA). If you want a slightly broader palette that's not just my favourites, I recommend the Mika starter pack on spotify.

2) The Mechanisms. I warn you. I am making this a thing. I have been obsessed with the mechs since last march.

Boy, where to start? The Mechanisms were a British 9 member space pirate story-telling cabaret that "died" in January 2020. They rewrite songs to fit retellings of various stories. I don't even know what genre I'd describe them as, but probably folk but steam-punk?? Their 4 "main" albums are concept albums, and I honestly just recommend listening to the from beginning to end in chronological order. A good way to get into the mechs is also to listen to UDAD and then watching the live show on youtube or alternately try giving Death To The Mechanisms a listen, to get good quality live show audio of TBI and various other stuff. Also, it was streamed on YouTube and someone combined the footage with the album audio and it rocks. Really, I think the mechs' best selling points are honestly just their concept albums:

Once Upon a Time (In Space) Their first album from 2012. I'd say this is the most "easily digestible" for the general public, since it's a retelling of various fairytales. So, what if Old King Cole was in fact not merry, but rather a cold-blooded dictator, intent on colonising as much of the galaxy as possible. What if Snow White was a general, looking to avenge what King Cole did to her sister, Rose. What if Cinderella was to be wedded to Rose the day that King Cole attacked in order to kidnap Rose? But y'know, In Space and also like every other mechs album it's a beautiful tragedy. Fave songs are Old King Cole, Pump Shanty, and No Happy Ending.

Ulysses Dies at Dawn You guessed it, it's a story about Odysseus, or Ulysses because I guess Ulysses is easier to rhyme or fit in the meter or something, idk. Ulysses is a war hero of unknown gender who is said to keep something that could take down the corrupt Olympians, meanest families in the City, in a vault to which only they know the passcode. Oedipus, Heracles, Orpheus, and Ariadne have been hired by Hades, who happens to be The Mechs' quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, to get into Ulysses' vault. I didn't care much for udad at first, but honestly it's got some real bangers and the story is really good. UDAD weirdly stands out as the only of the concept albums to not feature any gay relationships, per se. Fave songs are Riddle of the Sphinx, Favoured Son, and Underworld Blues.

High Noon over Camelot This is my favourite mehcs album. So basically, this is Arthurian legend, but it's a space western and Jonny D'Ville does a bad southern accent. This is the story of the cowboy lovers Arther, Lancelot, and Guinevere searching for the Galfridian Restricted Acces Interface Login, or GRAIL, in order to stop their world from falling into the sun. Meanwhile, Mordred and Gawaine are ruling Camelot, and Mordred has convinced Gawaine to try to establish peace with the Saxons by whom Mordred was raised, but Gawaine hates viciously. If you love getting your heart broken and songs by a fucking off the rails batshit preacher I HIGHLY recommend hnoc. Fave songs are Gunfight at the Dolorous Guard, Blood and Whiskey, and Once and Future King. Honorary mention for Hellfire because it awakens something animalistic in me.

The Bifrost Incident TBI is the frankly only good adaptation of norse mythology I've ever known of, and I say that as Dane who was literally forced to learn things about norse mythology in school because it's my heritage or whatever. I've been listening to TBI a lot lately because it's VERY good. It's definitely the most refined of the mechs' albums (because it's the newest) but also I just love a little bit of cosmic horror. 80 years ago, Odin, the All-Mother, ruler of Asgaard, launched a train through the wormhole Bifrost that would reduce the travel between Asgaard and Midgaard from 3 months to 3 days, but things didn't go quite as planned. Lyfrassir Edda of the New Midgaard Transport Police is trying to solve the case of why suddenly the train has arrived 80 years late; to figure out whether it was accident or maybe it was sabotaged by Loki, who was allegedly sentence to death her murder of Baldur, by the Midgaardian resistance led by Loki's wife Sigyn, or maybe by Thor, who was to take over after Odin, and who holds quite the grudge because he used to be a friend of Loki's. You might've heard the song Thor from this album, it's apparently quite popular. Fave songs are Loki, Ragnarok III: Strange Meeting, and Ragnarok V: End of The Line. Yet again an honorary mention: Red Signal because while Lovecraft was a bitch, his invocations are fucking RAW.

Basically, the Mechanisms do all of their performances in character as captain first mate Jonny D'Ville, quartermaster Ashes O'Reilly, pilot DrumBot Brian, master-at-arms Gunpowder Tim, science officer Raphaella la Cognizi, doctor Baron Marius Von Raum (neither a baron, nor a doctor), archivist Ivy Alexandria, engineer Nastya Rasputina, and The Toy Soldier, who is, as usual, present. You can find very obscure lore about the crew of the Aurora here, tidbits on Tales To Be Told and TTBT Vol. 2, such as One Eyed Jacks, The Ignominious Demise of Dr. Pilchard, Gunpowder Tim vs. The Moon Kaiser, Lucky Sevens, and Lost in the Cosmos.

If you feel like listening to a full 40-50 minute album to find out if you like a band is a bit much, I recommend listening to one of the mini stories Alice, Swan Song, or Frankenstein, which are about 12, 5 and 9:30 minutes respectively.

3) The Amazing Devil You know that guy who played Jaskier in the Witcher? I got into The Amazing Devil from spotify recommending them because I listened to the mechs, and apparently Joey Batey from The Amazing Devil is the same Joey Batey who was in the Witcher. Both him and Madeleine Hyland are VERY talented singers and songwriters and their second album The Horror and the Wild makes me go out into the forest and SCREAM. I listened to it on repeat for like a month straight. I guess they'd also be considered folk, but like. New Folk. Also yes, this is another British artist, I don't know why I'm like this. I've never really gotten that into their first album, Love Run, but King slaps. As I understand there's this whole lore about the Blue Furious Boy and Scarlet Scarlet, Joey and Madeleine respectively, but unlike the Mechanisms it's actually possible to find out things about the actual real people and harder to find the obscure lore? I'm open for people to please help me. Fave songs are The Horror and the Wild, Farewell Wanderlust, and That Unwanted Animal, which is literally a third of their second album, but again. I haven't really listened to Love Run that much, and I just LOVE the harmonies on THATW. (also im gay and dramatic leave me alone)

4) dodie I have so much love for this woman. Like many others, I first knew dodie as doddleoddle on youtube. I think I first stumbled across her in probably 2015, because I distinctly already knew her before she released her first EP Sick of Losing Soulmates in 2016. I think I watched probably every video she's ever made in the span of a few weeks. I just loved her quiet sound and was absolutely HOOKED. Also she's actually the reason I got into MIKA originally, so thanks for that. Dodie just realeased her first album Build A Problem (in addition to her three EP's; the one mentioned above, You, and Human) and it slaps. Yes dodie is also British Fave songs are probably Monster, Rainbow, and In The Middle.

5) Cladia Boleyn Unfortunately, Claudia Boleyn only has three singles and that's it. She's been making content on youtube for quite a while, and that's how I first discovered her. I don't know what genre her music is, but I like it. The songs are Celesta, George, and Mother Maiden Crone, of which the latter is my favourite. I'm not saying Claudia Boleyn invented women in 2017 when she released Mother Maiden Crone, but she did. Also you guessed it, Claudia Boleyn is British.

6) Hozier I'm not about to tell you about Hozier. You know who he is. Listen to Nina Cried Power, Angel Of Small Death & The Codeine Scene, and Shrike. Also Hozier isn't stricly British in that he is definitely from A British Isle, but Ireland is not part of the UK. Give me a break.

7) Oh Land Oh Land IS DANISH. I like her early music best, because I'm not that into the electronic sound. I guess Oh Land is just you regular old pop, but with the occasional weird vibe? Oddly enough, I like her first album Fauna best. Unfortunately I haven't really listened to her newest album Family Tree much, but it seems good? Fave songs are Frostbite, Love You Better and Family Tree. I cried on the bus, first time I listened to the Danish version of Love You Better, Elsker Dig Mer because my mother tongue always just hits harder. Also Frostbite is Oh Land doing a duet with herself which is pretty cool.

8) Oysterband This is a live recommendation. I mean they're a decent folk band and all, but they're a fucking experience live. If you like folk and you ever get the opportunity to see Oysterband live, do it. Unfortunately, yes. They are British. Either way, they are incredible on a scene and I think they deserve a mention for that.

9) Ben Platt Honestly don't know much about this guy, but he's not British and he was in Dear Evan Hansen. He released an album in 2019, Sing To Me Instead, and I just think it's a good album, there isn't really not much more to it. Fave songs are Grow As We Go, Bad Habit, and In Case You Don't Live Forever.

and thats all for now. this has been a ramble. shout out to you if you actually read all of this, especially the mechs part.

#music stuff #amalie.txt #music recommendations #mika #the mechanisms #the amazing devil #dodie #claudia boleyn #hozier #oh land #oysterband #ben platt

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ela-loomis · 3 years

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helloo, could i please get a matchup? c:

i'm a non-binary Mexican w/ short, curly brown hair and a small scar on my eyebrow. my style falls between dark academia and punk.

i'm v passionate abt art history, horror movies, books (especially classic literature), and political philosophy.

my love languages are quality time and gift giving <3 like writing love letters inspired by the regency era (bc of pride and prejudice lol).

i'm a pretty ambitious and smart person, but can have dumb moments.

i also like to paint, embroider, and talk abt my interests a lot hehe

some extra stuff: intp (5w4), aries sun/libra moon/scorpio rising, chaotic good

😏Sorry, did someone say

Asa Emory

- You are just fascinating to Asa. From the way you mix fashion types to the ‘traditional’ type of interests you have, he finds you to be the most interesting human he’s ever met.

- He absolutely wants to have deep, long-running conversations with you about all of the topics you like, especially art history! He wants to know all of the thoughts that go on in your head, and this is a great way to start!

- Surprsingly, he finds your ‘dumb’ moments to be cute and endearing, rather than irritating. He knows that you’re intelligent, so the momentary lapses in this intelligence make him want to protect and treasure you even more.

- PLEASE WRITE HIM A REGENCY ERA-INSPIRED LOVE LETTER OMG. Not only will it make him absolutely, positively swoon, you’ll receive one in return! Doing this will also earn you much more of his undivided attention, and what a prize that is 😏

- Asa adores the little scar you have. He adores all of the tiny details about it, especially the ones that might be perceived as ‘flaws’ by the general public. Those little details are what makes you even more interesting to him (not that you need to be, when you have such wonderful and unique interests!)

- When you let him know your love language is quality time, he’ll carve out a solid few hours during the day to give you exactly that, exactly the way you want it. Cuddles? Absolutely! You want him to give you a massage? Of course. You’d rather he just sits with you while you paint or read? Anything you want, he’s more than happy to accomodate.

- He could watch you embroider something for hours upon hours. It’s such a delicate, detail-oriented skill, and it requires such patience; he’s transfixed by how much talent you have and how beautifully your hands move as you work. For your birthday or anniversary, you’ll definitely find yourself with all of the embroidery tools you could ever ask for.

- TL;DR Asa thinks you’re more beautiful, smart and talented than anyone he’s ever encountered before, and he’ll do anything to make you happy with him. ❤

Matchups requests are closed until further notice; all other requests are open!

#reply #anonymous #slasher headcanons #slasher matchups #slasher imagines #asa emory x reader #slasher x reader

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grigori77 · 3 years

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2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10. WOLFWALKERS – eleven years ago, Irish director Tomm Moore exploded onto the animated cinema scene with The Secret of Kells, a spellbinding feature debut which captivated audiences the world over and even garnered an Oscar nomination. Admittedly I didn’t actually even know about it until I discovered his work through his astonishing follow-up, Song of the Sea (another Academy Award nominee), in 2015, so when I finally caught it I was already a fan of Moore’s work. It’s been a similarly long wait for his third feature, but he’s genuinely pulled off a hat-trick, delivering a third flawless film in a row which OF COURSE means that his latest feature is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my top animated feature of 2020. I could even be tempted to say it’s his best work to date … this is an ASTONISHING film, a work of such breath-taking, spell-binding beauty that I spent its entire hour and three-quarters glued to the screen, simple mesmerised by the wonder and majesty of this latest iteration of the characteristically stylised “Cartoon Saloon” look. It’s also liberally steeped in Moore’s trademark Celtic vibe and atmosphere, once again delving deep into his homeland’s rich and evocative cultural history and mythology while also bringing us something far more original and personal – this time the titular supernatural beings are magical near-human beings whose own subconscious can assume the form of very real wolves. Set in a particularly dark time in Irish history – namely 1650, when Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector – the story follows Robyn (Honor Kneafsey, probably best known for the Christmas Prince films), the impetuous and spirited young daughter of English hunter Bill Goodfellowe (Sean Bean), brought in by the Protectorate to rid the city of Kilkenny of the wolves plaguing the area. One day fate intervenes and Robyn meets Mebh Og MacTire (The Girl at the End of the Garden‘s Eve Whittaker), a wild girl living in the woods, whose accidental bite gives her strange dreams in which she becomes a wolf – turns out Mebh is a wolfwalker, and now so is Robyn … every aspect of this film is an utter triumph for Moore and co, who have crafted a work of living, breathing cinematic art that’s easily the equal to (if not even better than) the best that Disney, Dreamworks or any of the other animation studios could create. Then there’s the excellent voice cast – Bean brings fatherly warmth and compassion to the role that belies his character’s intimidating size, while Kneafsey and Whittaker make for a sweet and sassy pair as they bond in spite of powerful cultural differences, and the masterful Simon McBurney (Harry Potter, Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) brings cool, understated menace to the role of Cromwell himself. This is a film with plenty of emotional heft to go with its marvels, and once again displays the welcome dark side which added particular spice to Moore’s previous films, but ultimately this is still a gentle and heartfelt work of wonder that makes for equally suitable viewing for children as for those who are still kids at heart – ultimately, then, this is another triumph for one of the most singularly original filmmakers working in animation today, and if Wolfwalkers doesn’t make it third time lucky come Oscars-time then there’s no justice in the world …

9. WONDER WOMAN 1984 – probably the biggest change for 2020 compared to pretty much all of the past decade is how different the fortunes of superhero cinema turned out to be. A year earlier the Marvel Cinematic Universe had dominated all, but the DC Extended Universe still got a good hit in with big surprise hit Shazam! Fast-forward to now and things are VERY different – DC suddenly came out in the lead, but only because Marvel’s intended heavy-hitters (two MCU movies, the first Venom sequel and potential hot-shit new franchise starter Morbius: the Living Vampire) found themselves continuously pushed back thanks to (back then) unforeseen circumstances which continue to shit all over our theatre-going slate for the immediate future. In the end DC’s only SERIOUS competition turned out to be NETFLIX … never mind, at least we got ONE big established superhero blockbuster into the cinemas before the end of the year that the whole family could enjoy, and who better to headline it than DC’s “newest” big screen megastar, Diana Prince? Back in 2017 Monster’s Ball director Patty Jenkins’ monumental DCEU standalone spectacularly realigned the trajectory of a cinematic franchise that was visibly flagging, redesigning the template for the series’ future which has since led to some (mostly) consistently impressive subsequent offerings. Needless to say it was a damn tough act to follow, but Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns (Arrow and The Flash) and David Callaham (The Expendables, Zombieland: Double Tap, future MCU entry Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings) have risen to the challenge in fine style, delivering something which pretty much equals that spectacular franchise debut … as has Gal Gadot, who’s now OFFICIALLY made the role her own thanks to yet another showstopping and definitive performance as the unstoppable Amazonian goddess living amongst us. She’s older and wiser than in the first film, but still hasn’t lost that forthright honesty and wonderfully pure heart we’ve come to love ever since her introduction in Zack Snyder’s troublesome but ultimately underrated Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice (yes, that’s right, I said it!), and Gadot’s clear, overwhelming commitment to the role continues to pay off magnificently as she once again proves that Diana is THE VERY BEST superhero in the DCEU cinematic pantheon. Although it takes place several decades after its predecessor, WW84 is, obviously, still very much a period piece, Jenkins and co this time perfectly capturing the sheer opulent and over-the-top tastelessness of the 1980s in all its big-haired, bad-suited, oversized shoulder-padded glory while telling a story that encapsulates the greedy excessiveness of the Reagan era, perfectly embodied in the film’s nominal villain, Max Lord (The Mandalorian himself, Pedro Pascal), a wishy-washy wannabe oil tycoon conman who chances upon a supercharged wish-rock and unleashes a devastating supernatural “monkey’s paw” upon the world. To say any more would give away a whole raft of spectacular twists and turns that deserve to be enjoyed good and cold, although they did spoil one major surprise in the trailer when they teased the return of Diana’s first love, Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) … needless to say this is another big blockbuster bursting with big characters, big action and BIG IDEAS, just what we’ve come to expect after Wonder Woman’s first triumphant big screen adventure. Interestingly, the film starts out feeling like it’s going to be a bubbly, light, frothy affair – after a particularly stunning all-action opening flashback to Diana’s childhood on Themyscira, the film proper kicks off with a bright and breezy atmosphere that feels a bit like the kind of Saturday morning cartoon action the consistently impressive set-pieces take such unfettered joy in parodying, but as the stakes are raised the tone grows darker and more emotionally potent, the storm clouds gathering for a spectacularly epic climax that, for once, doesn’t feel too overblown or weighed down by its visual effects, while the intelligent script has unfathomable hidden depths to it, making us think far more than these kinds of blockbusters usually do. It’s really great to see Chris Pine return since he was one of the best things about the first movie, and his lovably childlike wide-eyed wonder at this brave new world perfectly echoes Diana’s own last time round; Kristen Wiig, meanwhile, is pretty phenomenal throughout as Dr Barbara Minerva, the initially geeky and timid nerd who discovers an impressive inner strength but ultimately turns into a superpowered apex predator as she becomes one of Wonder Woman’s most infamous foes, the Cheetah; Pascal, of course, is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up to the hilt as Lord, playing gloriously against his effortlessly cool, charismatic action hero image to deliver a compellingly troubling examination of the monstrous corrupting influence of absolute power. Once again, though, the film truly belongs to Gadot – she looks amazing, acts her socks off magnificently, and totally rules the movie. After this, a second sequel is a no-brainer, because Wonder Woman remains the one DC superhero who’s truly capable of bearing the weight of this particular cinematic franchise on her powerful shoulders – needless to say, it’s already been greenlit, and with both Jenkins and Gadot onboard, I’m happy to sign up for more too …

8. LOVE & MONSTERS – with the cinemas continuing their frustrating habit of opening for a little while and then closing while the pandemic ebbed and flowed in the months after the summer season, it was starting to look like there might not have been ANY big budget blockbusters to enjoy before year’s end as heavyweights like Black Widow, No Time To Die and Dune pulled back to potentially more certain release slots into 2021 (with only WW84 remaining stubbornly in place for Christmas). Then Paramount decided to throw us a bone, opting to release this post-apocalyptic horror comedy on-demand in October instead, thus giving me the perfect little present to tie me over during the darkening days of autumn. The end result was a stone-cold gem that came out of nowhere to completely blow critics away, a spectacular sleeper hit that ultimately proved one of the year’s biggest and most brilliant surprises. Director Michael Matthews may only have had South African indie thriller Five Fingers for Marseilles under his belt prior to this, but he proves he’s definitely a solid talent to watch in the future, crafting a fun and effective thrill-ride that, like all the best horror comedies, is consistently as funny as it is scary, sharing much of the same DNA as this particular mash-up genre’s classics like Tremors and Zombieland and standing up impressively well to such comparisons. The story, penned by rising star Brian Duffield (who has TWO other entries on this list, Underwater and Spontaneous) and Matthew Robinson (The Invention of Lying, Dora & the Lost City of Gold), is also pretty ingenious and surprisingly original – a meteorite strike has unleashed weird mutagenic pathogens that warp various creepy crawly critters into gigantic monstrosities that have slaughter most of the world’s human population, leaving only a beleaguered, dwindling few to eke out a precarious living in underground colonies. Living in one such makeshift community is Joel Dawson (The Maze Runner’s Dylan O’Brien), a smart and likeable geek who really isn’t very adventurous, is extremely awkward and uncoordinated, and has a problem with freezing if threatened … which makes it all the more inexplicable when he decides, entirely against the advice of everyone he knows, to venture onto the surface so he can make the incredibly dangerous week-long trek to the neighbouring colony where his girlfriend Aimee (Iron Fist’s Jessica Henwick) has ended up. Joel is, without a doubt, the best role that O’Brien has EVER had, a total dork who’s completely unsuited to this kind of adventure and, in the real world, sure to be eaten alive in the first five minutes, but he’s also such a fantastically believable, fallible everyman that every one of us desperate, pathetic omega-males and females can instantly put ourselves in his place, making it elementarily easy to root for him. He’s also hilariously funny, his winningly self-deprecating sass and pitch perfect talent for physical comedy making it all the more rewarding watching each gloriously anarchic life-and-death encounter mould him into the year’s most unlikely action hero. Henwick, meanwhile, once again impresses in a well-written role where she’s able to make a big impression despite her decidedly short screen time, as do the legendary Michael Rooker and brilliant newcomer Ariana Greenblatt as Clyde and Minnow, the adorably jaded, seen-it-all-before pair of “professional survivors” Joel meets en-route, who teach him to survive on the surface. The action is fast, frenetic and potently visceral, the impressively realistic digital creature effects bringing a motley crew of bloodthirsty beasties to suitably blood-curdling life for the film’s consistently terrifying set-pieces, while the world-building is intricately thought-out and skilfully executed. Altogether, this was an absolute joy from start to finish, and a film I enthusiastically endorsed to everyone I knew was looking for something fun to enjoy during the frustrating lockdown nights-in. One of the cinematic year’s best kept secrets then, and a compelling sign of things to come for its up-and-coming director.

7. PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all. It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering deeply troubling answers. Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s good luck charm, Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two pennies together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity. Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the kids contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically. But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon. This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head to stunning effect. The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon. This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away. Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade. Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …

6. THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’ undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular series with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping great ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in a thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered. Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan. The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here. Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’. They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story. Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large. After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

5. MANK – it’s always nice when David Fincher, one of my TOP FIVE ALL TIME FAVOURITE DIRECTORS, drops a new movie, because it can be GUARANTEED to place good and high in my rundown for that year. The man is a frickin’ GENIUS, a true master of the craft, genuinely one of the auteur’s auteurs. I’ve NEVER seen him deliver a bad film – even a misfiring Fincher (see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Alien 3) is still capable of creating GREAT CINEMA. How? Why? It’s because he genuinely LOVES the art form, it’s been his obsession all his life, and he’s spent every day of it becoming the best possible filmmaker he can be. Who better to tell the story of the creation of one of the ULTIMATE cinematic masterpieces, then? Benjamin Ross’ acclaimed biopic RKO 281 covered similar ground, presenting a compelling look into the making Citizen Kane, the timeless masterpiece of Hollywood’s ULTIMATE auteur, Orson Welles, but Fincher’s film is more interested in the original inspiration for the story, how it was written and, most importantly, the man who wrote it – Herman J. Mankiewicz, known to his friends as Mank. One of my favourite actors of all time, Gary Oldman, delivers yet another of his career best performances in the lead role, once a man of vision and incredible storytelling skill whose talents have largely been squandered through professional difficulties and personal vices, a burned out one-time great fallen on hard times whom Welles picks up out of the trash, dusts off and offers a chance to create something truly great again. The only catch? The subject of their film (albeit dressed up in the guise of fictional newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane) is to be real-life publisher, politico and tycoon William Randolph Hurst (Charles Dance), once Mank’s friend and patron before they had a very public and messy falling out which partly led to his current circumstances. As he toils away in seclusion on what is destined to become his true masterwork, flashbacks reveal to us the fascinating, moving and ultimately tragic tale of his rise and fall from grace in the movie business, set against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous periods in American history. Shooting a script that his own journalist and screenwriter father, Jack, crafted and then failed to bring to the screen himself before his death in 2003, Fincher has been working for almost a quarter century to make this film, and all that passion and drive is writ large on the screen – this is a glorious film ABOUT film, the art of it, the creation of it, and all the dirty little secrets of what the industry itself has always really been like, especially in that most glamorous and illusory of times. The fact that Fincher shot in black and white and intentionally made it look like it was made in the early 1940s (the “golden age of the Silver Screen”, if you will) may seem like a gimmick, but instead it’s a very shrewd choice that expertly captures the gloss and moodiness of the age, almost looking like a contemporary companion piece to Kane itself, and it’s the perfect way to frame all the sharp-witted observation, subtly subversive character development and murky behind-the-scenes machinations that tell the story. Oldman is in every way the star here, holding the screen with all the consummate skill and flair we’ve come to expect from him, but there’s no denying the uniformly excellent supporting cast are equal to the task here – Dance is at his regal, charismatic best as Hearst, while Amanda Seyfried is icily classy on the surface but mischievous and lovably grounded underneath as Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies, who formed the basis for Kane’s most controversial character, Arliss Howard (Full Metal Jacket, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Moneyball) brings nuance and complexity to the role of MGM founder Louis B. Mayer, Tom Pelphrey (Banshee, Ozark) is understated but compelling as Mank’s younger screenwriter brother Joseph, and Lily Collins and Tuppence Middleton exude class and long-suffering stubbornness as the two main women in Mank’s life (his secretary and platonic muse, Rita Alexander, and his wife, Sara), while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke’s periodic but potent appearances as Orson Welles help to drive the story in the “present”. Another Netflix release which I was (thankfully) able to catch on the big screen during one of the brief lulls between British lockdowns, this was a decidedly meta cinematic experience that perfectly encapsulated not only what is truly required for the creation of a screen epic, but also the latest pinnacle in the career of one of the greatest filmmakers working in the business today, powerful, stirring, intriguing and surprising in equal measure. Certainly it’s one of the most important films ABOUT so far film this century, but is it as good as Citizen Kane? Boy, that’s a tough one …

4. ENOLA HOLMES – ultimately, my top film for the autumn/winter movie season was also the film which finally topped my Netflix Original features list, as well as beating all other streaming offerings for the entire year (which is saying something, as you should know by now). Had things been different, this would have been one of Warner Bros’ BIGGEST releases for the year in the cinema, of that I have no doubt, a surprise sleeper hit which would have taken the world by storm – as it is it’s STILL become a sensation, albeit in a much more mid-pandemic, lockdown home-viewing kind of way. Before you start crying oh God no, not another Sherlock Holmes adaptation, this is a very different beast from either the Guy Ritchie take or the modernized BBC show, instead side-lining the great literary sleuth in favour of a delicious new AU version, based on The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first novel in the Enola Holmes Mysteries literary series from American YA author Nancy Springer. Positing that Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his elder brother Mycroft (Sam Claflin) had an equally ingenious and precocious baby sister, the film introduces us to Enola (Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who’s been raised at home by their strong-willed mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) to be just as intelligent, well-read and intellectually skilled as her far more advantageously masculine elder siblings. Then, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Enola awakens to find her mother has vanished, putting her in a pretty pickle since this leaves her a ward of Mycroft, a self-absorbed social peacock who finds her to be wilfully free-spirited and completely ill equipped to face the world, concluding that the only solution is sending her to boarding school where she’ll learn to become a proper lady. Needless to say she’s horrified by the prospect, deciding to run away and search for her mother instead … this is about as perfect a family adventure film as you could wish for, following a vital, capable and compelling teen detective-in-the-making as she embarks on her very first investigation, as well as winding up tangled in a second to boot involving a young runaway noble, Viscount Tewkesbury, the Marquess of Basilwether (Medici’s Louis Partridge), and the film is a breezy, swift-paced and rewardingly entertaining romp that feels like a welcome breath of fresh air for a literary property which, beloved as it may be, has been adapted to death over the years. Enola Holmes a brilliant young hero who’s perfectly crafted to carry the franchise forward in fresh new directions, and Brown brings her to life with effervescent charm, boisterous energy and mischievous irreverence that are entirely irresistible; Cavill and Claflin, meanwhile, are perfectly cast as the two very different brothers – this Sherlock is much less louche and world-weary than most previous versions, still razor sharp and intellectually restless but with a comfortable ease and a youthful spring in his step that perfectly suits the actor, while Mycroft is as superior and arrogant as ever, a preening arse we derive huge enjoyment watching Enola consistently get the best of; Bonham Carter doesn’t get a lot of screen-time but as we’d expect she does a lot with what she has to make the practical, eccentric and unapologetically modern Eudoria thoroughly memorable, while Partridge is carefree and likeable as the naïve but irresistible Tewkesbury, and there are strong supporting turns from Frances de la Tour as his stately grandmother, the Dowager, Susie Wokoma (Crazyhead, Truth Seekers) as Emily, a feisty suffragette who runs a jujitsu studio, Burn Gorman as dastardly thug-for-hire Linthorn, and Four Lions’ Adeel Akhtar as a particularly scuzzy Inspector Lestrade. Seasoned TV director Harry Bradbeer (Fleabag, Killing Eve) makes his feature debut with an impressive splash, unfolding the action at a brisk pace while keeping the narrative firmly focused on an intricate mystery plot that throws in plenty of ingenious twists and turns before a suitably atmospheric climax and pleasing denouement which nonetheless artfully sets up more to come in the future, while screenwriter Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials, The Scouting Book for Boys, Wonder) delivers strong character work and liberally peppers the dialogue with a veritable cavalcade of witty zingers. Boisterous, compelling, amusing, affecting and exciting in equal measure, this is a spirited and appealing slice of cinematic escapism that flatters its viewers and never talks down to them, a perfect little period adventure for a cosy Sunday afternoon. Obviously there’s plenty of potential for more, and with further books to adapt there’s more than enough material for a pile of sequels – Neflix would be barmy indeed to turn their nose up at this opportunity …

3. 1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed. Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed. The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that’s impossible to tear your eyes away from. Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league. It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is True History of the Kelly Gang’s George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack). They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overtly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos. That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DOP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is utterly immersive and simply STUNNING. I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same. Either way, this was the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I had at the cinema all year – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …

2. BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number two is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen. It was been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it was done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than the Wonder Woman movies). It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one talented psychiatrist. Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley TRUE justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to. Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the assumed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about. Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what had to be 2020’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action hero potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain. Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discover her warrior origins when the DCEU finally gets around to introducing her mum, Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy. My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT. Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch of badass ladies, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz. This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster ever made – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms. It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!). It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists. Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date, and VERY NEARLY my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020. Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.

1. TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly saved our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that my ultimate top-spot winner FOR THE WHOLE YEAR was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August and ultimately taking the bite at the box office because of the still shaky atmosphere), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with. I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the first reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night-out big screen EXPERIENCE since March. Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT. Still with us? Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who was ALMOST the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s Himesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine. The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even if that amazing new teaser trailer wasn’t making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic. As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual triumph and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some absolutely mesmerising visuals. Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he had good reason, since he was working on his dream project at the time, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his collaborations with Ryan Coogler Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as career-best work on The Mandalorian) is a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence this film is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven. As a work of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that proved truly unbeatable in 2020 …

#wolfwalkers #wonder woman 1984 #ww84 #love and monsters #parasite #parasite movie #the old guard #mank #enola holmes #1917 #1917 movie #Birds of Prey #birds of prey the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #tenet #tenet movie #2020 in movies

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sugasugawarau · 3 years

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Happy New Years to you all! I’m a bit late in writing and posting this but I wanted to take the time to properly thank everyone who follows me for sticking with me :) I know I’m not the most active when it comes to writing or even making shitposts so I hope you know it means the world to me that you enjoy my content. While just because 2020 has ended does not mean things will get automatically better, know that you have the capability of making a difference both for yourself and others. I’m proud of you for coming this far and please remember to take care of yourself when you can <3

And I’d also like to take the time to thank some individuals who have made a huge impact on my tumblr experience and have made this year better under the cut! Be warned there are many words and also sorry for any typos I wrote this at 3am :D

I’m going to start off with a few major lo$ers (joking) aka my irl friends that have tumblr

@kbh-ton, @ashr00m, @kae-and-the-lost-dragons

Okay the fact that you all follow me here is EMBARRASSING because you have to endure perceiving me from a sorta totally different perspective but surprise hi,, ily 😹 I know ⅔ of you don’t even use tumblr that often but I digress!! Thank you?? Like I’m not kidding when I say I don’t know where I would be without any of you guys. Stinky pp Paul, you’ve been here with @/sugasugawarau since the beginning-ish and have always been supportive of my absolutely stupid ideas. And my sons AKA get cucked squad, this is going to be ultra sappy but I hope you know how proud I am of the both of you (but no thanks to one of you for teaching us about nussies 😕). Thank you all for tolerating my overthinking ass as well as whenever I get high from a lack of sleep and just in general bc I’m a constant mess of a human being; you are all the best people ik stfu I don’t take criticism.

To my first ever tumblr mutual, @tendouthighs

Hi Codie!! Ik we haven’t talked a lot lately but just know that I appreciate your endless kindness and how you’re able to keep up with my smooth brain antics in dms so much. You’re so funny and I’ll treasure all the jokes and headcanons we’ve made, I hope you’re taking care and doing well heading into 2021! 💖💕

To wife Lyra @yacoka

Miss… Thank you sm for dropping by my inbox all the way back in like June/July because otherwise I don’t think I’d ever have gotten the courage to dm you LOL. It would be an understatement to say that you’re the kindest and most easygoing person I’ve met on here - I hope you know how grateful I am to have met you and read your works (and for lending me your knives and just being so?? supportive??? truly idk how you do it but ily 😣❣️)

To wife Joy @lesbians4yaku

Joy!!! I really don’t know where to start because you’re just so amazing?? And we’ve been mutuals for as long as I can remember ajdjfka I’m just,, so glad to have met you and I hope you know how much I love seeing you on the dash, whether it’s being able to marvel at the genius that is your mind whenever you make a haikyuu shitpost or reading your tags. You always make me laugh and smile and I am wishing you both of those things in 2021 bc u deserve the best, love u 🤍🤍🤍

To Arell, the sweetest soul I know @g4nyu

You have a natural talent for being able to make me both soft ™ and also laugh as freely as Tanaka and Nishinoya with your relatable quips and jokes and I adore you for it. (Also.. can we talk about how absolutely gorgeous your writing is I will nvr shut up.. also also I am here whenever u need to be enabled to rave abt any and all Haikyuu or Genshin characters <33) ily and ty for being my mutual, I feel v lucky to have u in my life 🥺

To Cal, a goddess in her own right @heyhinata

Ma’am the way ily?? You’re beautiful inside and out and I have sm fun talking to you. Being able to call you a mutual and read your works is a blessing and I’m so glad we started talking in dms ajsjfja I’ll never forget plotting smaus with you to raving abt Genshin and making fun of B*n Sh*piro, hidden muppet 😍 Wishing you the best in all that you do!

To Rae, fellow Tim Hortona enthusiast @mehreya

Hi bae I just want to start off with a big thank you. You’re such a wonderful and invigorating person to talk to and I always feel at ease talking with you, and seeing you on my dash with your interactions with others is always a light in my day. And for u I will embrace the Oikawa kinnie in me any day <33 ly and have an amazing New Years 🥰

To Ria, the absolute best and only Ria ik @kumaoi

Omg hi sexc 😍 ahdjkfka idk if you’ll see this but hey,, fun fact even if we don’t talk as much as we used to I still love u sm and I hope you’re staying healthy and happy !! Meeting you was and still is one of the best highlights of my tumblr journey and I’ll always be grateful for your existence

To Gracie, writer of all things beautiful @sneezefiction

Gracie!! I hope you’ve been doing well since the last time we talked and that you’re enjoying the New Years to the fullest <3 You were also one of my earliest mutuals and I just wanted to say thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me and for writing and sharing your works on tumblr. Sending love ! 💖

To the one and only angel, Yas @whipped-cream-writings

Yas bb we only became mutuals rather recently but I have sm love for you 🥺 Your kindness inspires me and your fics are the cutest things ever (pls,,, teach me how to write fluff ahfjfkka) Ilysm and I want to remind you that you’re so wonderful and amazing, sending you all my love for the upcoming year ahead !!

To Kay, who I will protect with my life @kayzume

Kay I don’t know how to even begin to put in words how glad I am to have met you in Lyra’s server,, you’re so sweet and you make me feel safe every time we talk. (Also THE DRAWINGS u made and shared with us,,, have I alr said ily bc ily and all that you do.) I know we haven’t chatted in a while but I’m sending you all my hugs and kithes always 💕💕💖

To mutuals I’ve interacted with some time during these months on tumblr and cherish a whole lot @taiyaaki @kageyuji @sophiawithstars @buddh-art @sa-suga @baeshijima @cherryonigiri @catharsisbabey @tris-does-stuff @tetsurolls @come-on-shitty-boys @iwas-angel @star-puff @voxamcris @azucanela @heartjime @miyafeuille @suikazura @deerixiie @hajiimes @skateme2yokohama @aliteama @yuujiya @omijime and many others but I think I hit the tagging limitajdhfka

Hi ily. You’re all such inspiring and talented individuals and while we may not interact frequently or know each other as well I wish we cld be ajfjjfa but I adore you all and I wish you an amazing New Year 🥺💖 (and if you ever want to talk, feel free to dm or smth! and I’ll try my best to be more active in popping into my mutual’s inboxes amhahshsj)

To the pillars of tumblr @sugardaddykenma @hina-wit-da-glock @nidaenk

You are all so special to me in that you are the reason I would wake up and get my butt on this hellsite and find so much fun and joy in the fandoms I enjoy - it’s not even the content you post but just,, your amazing and stellar personality and interactions with your followers and mutuals alike. Thank you for being a part of this weird space on the internet and I hope you are taking care and being kind to yourself, love u very much <33

#long post #happy new years !!#again #proud of everyone for making it here #bye i dont mean it to but that sounds so cryptic #i shld stop rambling in tags

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 4 years

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The Boundless Optimism of BTS

IT IS THE MORNING OF CHUSEOK, A KOREAN HARVEST FESTIVAL akin to Thanksgiving, and the members of BTS would normally be spending it with their families, eating tteokguk, a traditional rice-cake soup. Instead, Jin, 28; Suga, 27; J-Hope, 26; RM, 26; Jimin, 25; V, 24; and Jung Kook, 23, are working. Practicing. Honing their choreography. In a few days, the biggest musical act in the world will perform in the live-stream concert that, for now, will have to stand in for the massive tour they spent the first part of this year rehearsing. At this moment, they’re seated inside Big Hit Entertainment headquarters in Seoul, South Korea, the house they built, dressed mostly in black and white, ready to answer my questions. They’re gracious about it. And groggy.

Before I’m done speaking with them for this story, BTS will have the number-one and number-two songs on the BillboardHot 100, a feat that’s been achieved only a handful of times in the sixty-odd years the chart has existed. Their next album, Be, is weeks away from being released, and speculation about the record, the tracklist, the statement, is rampant across the Internet. BTS are, to put it mildly, huge.

There is something about complete world domination that can really cement a friendship. What jumps out at me as I connect with the members of BTS is their level of comfort with one another. Tension has a way of making itself evident—even over Zoom, even through a translator. There’s none to be found here. They are relaxed in the manner of family. Lounging with their arms around each other’s shoulders, tugging on each other’s sleeves, fixing each other’s collars. When they speak about one another, it is with kindness.

“Jimin has a particular passion for the stage and really thinks about performance, and in that sense, there are many things to learn from him,” J-Hope says. “Despite all the things he has accomplished, he still tries his best and brings something new to the table, and I really want to applaud him for that.”

“Thank you for saying all these things about me,” Jimin responds.

Jimin turns his attention to V, explaining that he is “loved by so many” and describing him as one of his best friends. Suga jumps in, sharing that Jimin and V fight the most among the group. V replies, “We haven’t fought in three years!” They tell me this distinction now belongs to Jin and Jung Kook, the oldest and youngest members. “It all starts as a joke, but then it gets serious,” Jimin says.

Jin agrees and recounts what their arguments sound like. “Why did you hit me so hard?” he says, before mimicking Jung Kook’s response: “I didn’t hit you that hard.” And then they start hitting each other. But not that hard.

Since the start of their careers, BTS have shown a certain confidence in their aesthetic, their performances, and their music videos. It’s right there in the name: BTS stands for “Bangtan Sonyeondan,” which translates to “Bulletproof Boy Scouts,” but as their popularity grew in English-speaking markets, the acronym was retrofitted to mean “Beyond the Scene,” which Big Hit has described as “symbolizing youth who don’t settle for their current reality and instead open the door and go forward to achieve growth.” And their affection with one another, their vulnerability and emotional openness in their lives and in their lyrics, strikes me as more grown-up and masculine than all the frantic and perpetual box-checking and tone-policing that American boys force themselves and their peers to do. It looks like the future.

“There is this culture where masculinity is defined by certain emotions, characteristics. I’m not fond of these expressions,” Suga tells me. “What does being masculine mean? People’s conditions vary day by day. Sometimes you’re in a good condition; sometimes you aren’t. Based on that, you get an idea of your physical health. And that same thing applies mentally. Some days you’re in a good state; sometimes you’re not. Many pretend to be okay, saying that they’re not ‘weak,’ as if that would make you a weak person. I don’t think that’s right. People won’t say you’re a weak person if your physical condition is not that good. It should be the same for the mental condition as well. Society should be more understanding.”

When I hear these words in October 2020, from my house in a country whose leader is actively trying to make the case that only the weak die of COVID-19, well, it sounds like the future, too.

IF YOU ARE JUST NOW CONSIDERING GETTING INTO BTS, IT IS natural to feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff. It’s a bit like saying, right this second, “Let’s see what Marvel Comics is all about.” In the streaming age, BTS have sold more than twenty million physical units across fourteen albums. Their multi-album concept cycles, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life, Love Yourself, and Map of the Soul, have unfolded over multiple records and EPs. There are collaborations with brands, including a BTS smartphone with Samsung. There is a series of short films and music videos, called BU, or BTS Universe, and an animated universe called BT21, in which they’re all represented by gender-neutral avatars. Their fan base, known as ARMY, is a global cultural movement unto itself.

“Dynamite,” their first English-language single and their first American number one, is pure, ecstatic pop. Shiny and joyful. What sets them apart from many of their peers, and many of the pop acts who achieved worldwide fame before them, is what came earlier. Beneath the sheen and the beats has always been an unflinching examination of human emotion. Their lyrics seek to challenge the conventions of society—to question and even denounce them. BTS’s first single, “No More Dream,” unveiled at their debut showcase in June 2013, concerns the intense pressure South Korean schoolchildren face to conform and to succeed. According to Suga, lyrics about the mental health of young people were mostly absent in Korean pop music. “The reason I started making music is because I grew up listening for lyrics that speak about dreams, hopes, and social issues,” he tells me. “It just came naturally to me when making music.”

Suga’s early ambition of making music didn’t involve him being in a group at all. About a decade ago, in his hometown of Daegu, the fourth-largest city in South Korea, he started recording underground rap tracks under the name Gloss, listening to and learning from the early works of songwriter and producer Bang Si-hyuk, known as Hitman Bang. Bang is the founder and CEO of Big Hit Entertainment. In 2010, Suga, a junior in high school, moved to Seoul to join Big Hit as a producer and rapper. Then Bang asked him to become part of a group, envisioning a hip-hop act with fellow new Big Hit recruits RM and J-Hope. The guys call this “season one” of their development.

“At that time, I don’t think our label exactly knew what to do with us,” RM says. “They just basically let us be and we had some lessons, but we also just chilled and made music sometimes.”

It got more intense. The family grew, occasionally by accident.

V accompanied a friend to a Big Hit casting call in Daegu for moral support and ended up being the person chosen from those sessions.

Jung Kook was signed in a feeding frenzy after being dropped from the talent show Superstar K, fielding offers from numerous entertainment companies before settling on Big Hit because he was impressed by RM’s rapping.

Jimin was a dance student and class president for nine years running at his school in Busan; he auditioned at the behest of his teacher.

And then, to hear him tell it, Jin got picked up off the street. “I was just going to school,” he says. “Someone from the company approached me, like, ‘Oh, this is my first time seeing anyone that looked like this.’ He suggested having a meeting with me.”

“Season two is when we officially underwent hard training,” J-Hope says. “We started dancing, and that’s how I would say our team building started.”

School in the daytime, training at night. “We slept during classes,” V says.

“I slept in the practice studio,” J-Hope counters.

Hitman Bang kept the pressure comparatively low. And he encouraged the guys to write and produce their own music, to be honest about their emotions in their lyrics. Suga is on record saying that no BTS album would be complete without a track that scrutinizes society.

And yet for their new album, Be, they’re putting that aside. Even this has a greater purpose that relates to mental wellness: RM, the group’s main rapper, says, “I don’t think this album will have any songs that criticize social issues. Everybody is going through very trying times right now. So I don’t think there will be any songs that will be that aggressive.”

Though the new rules of COVID-19 mean they can’t come here and promote Be, its first single might not have happened in the first place but for the pandemic. “ ‘Dynamite’ wouldn’t be here if there was no COVID-19,” says RM. “For this song, we wanted to go easy and simple and positive. Not some, like, deep vibes or shadows. We just wanted to go easy.”

Jin agrees. “We were trying to convey the message of healing and comfort to our fans.” He pauses. “World domination wasn’t actually our plan when we were releasing ‘Dynamite.’ ” World domination just happens sometimes. You get it.

MAP OF THE SOUL ONE AIRED VIA THEIR ONLINE FAN PLATFORM and attracted almost a million viewers across 191 countries. The guys say they tried not to think about the enormousness. J-Hope adds, “I felt a little bit more nervous knowing that this was being broadcast live. I actually feel less nervous performing live at a stadium.” Jin replies with a smile, “J-Hope, born to perform at a stadium.”

The graphic layout of the title throws a colon between the final N and E, which makes it look like Map of the Soul On: E, and as I watch it live, as I do in my office at 3:00 a.m. with noise-canceling headphones and a steaming pot of coffee, it feels a lot like I’m watching Map of the Soul on E. It is an explosion of color and fashion and passion, over four gigantic stages, from the boozy swagger of “Dionysus” to the emo-trap introspection of “Black Swan.” Not a step, not a gesture, not a hair is out of place. If there were nerves, they didn’t come through.

There is also, at the end of Map of the Soul One, an intimate version of their 2017 track “Spring Day,” which encapsulates what’s really made BTS stand out. On the surface, it’s about nonspecific love and loss, about yearning for the past. “I think that song really represents me,” says Jin. “I like to look to the past and be lost in it.”

Fair enough, but there is an undeniable allusion, in both the song’s video and its cover concept, to a specific incident in recent South Korean history. “Spring Day” was released just a few years after the sinking of the Sewol ferry, one of the country’s biggest maritime disasters, in which a poorly inspected, overloaded ferry toppled in a sharp right turn. Hundreds of high school students drowned, having obeyed orders to stay in their cabins as the boat was going down. According to some reports, the South Korean government actively tried to silence entertainers who spoke out against it, with the Korean Ministry of Education fully banning the tragedy’s commemorative yellow ribbons in schools. I ask whether it was about a specific sad event, and Jin tells me, “It is about a sad event, as you said, but it is also about longing.” The song kept the disaster front of mind for young Koreans and for the media, indirectly leading to the impeachment and removal of then president Park Geun-hye.

If an overburdened, undermaintained, slow-moving vessel capsizing because of a reckless rightward turn strikes you as somehow symbolic of the country in which BTS are about to explode even further, you won’t hear it from them. “We’re outsiders—we can’t really express what we feel about the United States,” says V. But their actions speak volumes; in the wake of the George Floyd murder and subsequent protests in America, the group made a $1 million donation with Big Hit Entertainment to Black Lives Matter, one that was matched by BTS ARMY.

The fans offer a fascinating inversion of stan culture: Rather than bullying rivals like many other ardent online fan bases do, ARMY have put the positive message of the music into action. Their activism goes deep. Through micro-donations, they’ve regrown rain forests, adopted whales, funded hundreds of hours of dance classes for Rwandan youth, and raised money to feed LGBTQ refugees around the world. Where pop fans a generation ago might have sent teddy bears or cards to their idols for their birthdays, where five years ago they might have promoted a hashtag to get a video’s YouTube viewer count up, for RM’s twenty-sixth birthday in September, international fan collective One in an Army raised more than $20,000 for digital night schools to improve rural children’s access to education during the COVID-19 crisis. ARMY may have even entered the conversation around the 2020 presidential election when hundreds of thousands of Tulsa Trump rally tickets got snapped up online in June. The event’s actual attendance was pathetically low. No particular person or entity claimed credit for this top-notch trolling, but a video urging BTS fans to RSVP to that rally did get hundreds of thousands of views. We have no choice but to stan this fan base.

The relationship is intense. “We and our ARMY are always charging each other’s batteries,” RM says. “When we feel exhausted, when we hear the news all over the world, the tutoring programs, and donations, and every good thing, we feel responsible for all of this.” The music may have inspired the good works, but the good works inspire the music. “We’ve got to be greater; we’ve got to be better,” RM continues. “All those behaviors always influence us to be better people, before all this music and artist stuff.”

Yet for every devoted member of BTS ARMY, there is someone who’s looked right past BTS. Jimmy Fallon, whose Tonight Show hosted the group for a full week this past fall, was one of those people. “Usually if an artist is on the rise, I hear about them ahead of time. With BTS, I knew they had crazy momentum, and I’d never heard of them.”

Here’s a thought that used to be funny to me: There were members of the live audience of The Ed Sullivan Showon February 9, 1964, who weren’t there to see the Beatles. Elvis was in the Army, Buddy Holly was gone, and the three number-one albums in the months before Meet the Beatles! were an Allan Sherman comedy record, the West Side Story original cast recording, and Soeur Sourire: The Singing Nun. America had left rock ’n’ roll behind for the moment, and with the culture aimless and fragmented, it wasn’t quite sure what to pick up in its place. It is possible to imagine that a youngish, reasonably hip, and culturally aware human being might cop a ticket to that week’s show, settle into his seat, and say, “Bring on a medley of numbers from the Broadway musical Oliver! and banjo sensation Tessie O’Shea.”

The instinct is to laugh at that guy, and it’s a good instinct, because what a dope.

And then you become that guy.

Sometimes there is a whole universe alongside your own, bursting with color you’re too stubborn to see, bouncing with joy you think is for someone else, with a beat you thought you were finished dancing to. BTS are the biggest thing on the planet right now, yet the job of introducing them to someone new, particularly in America, seems like it’s never done. Maybe it’s because they are adored by screaming teenagers and we live in a society patriarchal enough to forget that screaming teenagers are nearly always right. Maybe it’s the cultural divide, in a moment when our country is unashamed enough of its own xenophobia to get openly bent out of shape when it has to press 1 for English. Maybe it’s the language barrier, as though we understood a single word Michael Stipe sang before 1989.

Whatever the reason, the result is that you might be missing out on a paradigm shift and a historic moment of pop greatness.

IF BTS SEEM A BIT CAUTIOUS WITH THEIR WORDS PUBLICLY, IT’S because—perhaps more than any other massive pop act in history—they have to be. Shortly after our second meeting, BTS were given the General James A. Van Fleet Award by the U. S.–based Korea Society for their outstanding contributions to advancing relations between the United States and Korea. In his acceptance speech, RM said, “We will always remember the history of pain that our two nations shared together, and the sacrifices of countless men and women,” as seemingly diplomatic and innocuous a statement as he could have made. But because he didn’t mention the Chinese soldiers who died in the Korean War, it didn’t go over well. The Samsung BTS smartphone disappeared from Chinese e-commerce platforms, Fila and Hyundai pulled ads in China that featured the group, the nationalistic newspaper Global Times accused them of hurting Chinese citizens’ feelings and negating history, and the hashtags “BTS humiliated China” and “there are no idols that come before my country” began trending on the social-media site Weibo. The pressure is not small.

Even as the number-one pop group in the world, even with their hard work day in and day out, even with tens of millions of adoring fans redefining the concept of “adoring fans” by literally healing the planet in their name, these guys still suffer from impostor syndrome. RM explains, “I’ve heard that there’s this mask complex. Seventy percent of so-called successful people have this, mentally. It’s basically this: There’s this mask on my face. And these people are afraid that someone is going to take off this mask. We have those fears as well. But I said 70 percent, so I think it’s very natural. Sometimes it’s a condition to be successful. Humans are imperfect, and we have these flaws and defects. And one way to deal with all this pressure and weight is to admit the shadows.”

The music helps. “When we write the songs and lyrics, we study these emotions, we are aware of that situation, and we relate to that emotionally,” J-Hope says. “And that’s why when the song is released, we listen to it and get consolation from those songs as well. I think our fans also feel those emotions, maybe even more than us. And I think we are a positive influence on each other.”

If there’s one thing they’re sacrificing, besides free time and the ability to speak freely without the Chinese foreign ministry releasing an official statement, it’s a love life. I ask about dating, broad questions like “Are you?” and “Is there time?” and “Can you?” and the answer to all of them is pretty clear: “No.” “The most important thing for us now is to sleep,” Jung Kook insists. Suga follows right up with “Can you see my dark circles?” I cannot, because there are none, because flawless skin translates even over Zoom when there’s an ocean between us.

So they’re not, at least publicly, having romantic relationships with anyone. If there is a strong relationship that’s guided their journey into adulthood, it’s with Big Hit. “Our company started with twenty to thirty people, but now we have a company with so many employees,” RM says. “We have our fans, and we have our music. So we have a lot of things that we have to be responsible for, to safeguard.” He considers it for a moment. “I think that’s what an adult is.”

“Our love life—twenty-four hours, seven days a week—is with all the ARMYs all over the world,” RM adds.

In a world that is determined to sand down anything that isn’t immediately recognizable to the average pop-music fan, when it comes to acquainting you with Korean culture, BTS very much do not wanna hold your hand. While the first song on night one of their Tonight Show week was a joyous but expected take on “Dynamite” with Fallon and the Roots, they took some chances during their second performance.

As a friend of mine, a thirty-three-year-old BTS fan in Los Angeles, told me, “The second song they performed was ‘IDOL,’ ” from 2018’s Love Yourself: Answer, “and it celebrated their Korean identity. They performed it in Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul. They wore clothes inspired by traditional dresses called hanboks;it was almost entirely in Korean, so it felt super subversive. As a fan, I read it as: ‘Dynamite’ was an invitation, and this is who we are and this is our home.”

“I was a little concerned that people might not understand,” Fallon says. “I was like, ‘There’s nothing in English here.’ But what you see is just pure star power. Pure talent. Immediately, I thought, Oh, this is everything. If you’re that powerful, it transcends language.”

American popular music in the twenty-first century is more fragmented than it has been since . . . well, since Allan Sherman, Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim, and the Singing Nun battled for that number-one spot. The monoculture that the Beatles helped bring on has breathed its last breath. Each of us is the program director for our own private radio station, letting our own past habits and streaming-service algorithms serve up something close to what we want. Which is great, except that huge moments can whiz right past our ears. Each of us, even if we’re more clued in than our parents were when they were our age, can miss some era-defining, excellent shit. Particularly if the radio is our Spotify Discover Weekly, or the Pandora channel based on the band whose T-shirts we wore in college. We can let a moment pass us by if prime time is a Netflix binge, and the Tonight Show hour is spent on one more episode before bed. But we shouldn’t. “Honestly, I think it’s history that we’re living through with BTS,” Fallon says. “It’s the biggest band I’ve seen since I’ve started late night, definitely.”

THERE IS ALSO THE SMALL DETAIL THAT, UNLIKE THE BEATLES AND literally every other worldwide sensation to break in America, BTS don’t particularly need to go to the trouble. They are massive all over the world. Thanks to the recent IPO of Big Hit Entertainment, of which each member is a partner, they are all now incredibly wealthy. (Hitman Bang is the first South Korean entertainment mogul to become a billionaire.) What good is a culture in decline to a pop act this much on the ascent? “When I dreamed of becoming an artist, I listened to pop and watched all the awards shows in the United States. Being successful and being a hit in the U. S. is, of course, such an honor as an artist,” says Suga. “I feel very proud of that.”

They’re breaking out in a country that either worships them or fails to notice them. So do they feel like they’re getting enough respect in America? “How can we win everyone’s respect?” Jin asks. “I think it’s enough to get respect from people who support us. It’s similar everywhere else in the world. You can’t like everyone, and I think it’s enough to be respected by people who really love you.”

Suga agrees. “You can’t always be comfortable, and I think it’s all part of life. Honestly, we are not used to getting a ton of respect from when we first started out. But I think that gradually changes, whether it be in the States or other parts of the world, as we do more and more.”

There is, without a doubt, one colossal, unmistakable sign of respect for a musician: a Grammy. They’ve been nominated only once, and even then it was for best recording package. But their sights are set on a big one next year. RM puts it out there: “We would like to be nominated and possibly get an award.” Dragging the hoary, backward-looking, and Western-focused Grammys into the gorgeous, global world of the present through sheer force of will, talent, and hard work? Stranger things have happened. “I think the Grammys are the last part, like the final part of the whole American journey,” he says with a smile. “So yeah, we’ll see.”

The Recording Academy’s seal of approval is one thing. But BTS have already conquered the world, clowned tyrants, inspired individual fans to perform the small and achievable acts of activism that have collectively begun to save the planet, challenged toxic masculinity by leading with vulnerability, and, along the way, become bajillionaires and international idols. Whether the Grammys are paying attention matters about as much as what an Ed Sullivan audience member expected to see that night in 1964. BTS have already won.

#bangtan #jungkook #jimin #v #suga #jhope #jin #rm #o:esquire #o:interview #201123

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indimlights · 3 years

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✨Merry christmas Cille✨

To: @birthdaysentiment 💛

-> From: @indimlights (Rodrigo)

Hi Cille! I guess it's up to me to kick off this "little" surprise but I don't even know where to start...

I remember really well the first time I saw a post of yours, I was still lurking back then and the moment I read it I felt so many things, things I don't know how to describe and that I never thought words could make me feel and I knew, I just knew that I had to see more. Fast-forward a couple of hours I knew your blog by heart, I had looked at so many of your posts and every single one was as amazing as the first one, as touching as the first one and as deep as the first one.

The meaning you put on words still gets to me every single day, you have such a way into them and don't even get me started on your music analysis. The moment I read the first one I was mind-blown! The things you catch, the connections you make between the music and the scene, the way you describe the scenes, it makes me go back, relive the moment and feel everything I felt the first time I watched it and all this just by... reading your words! If that doesn't tell me how amazing you are with them I don't know what will.

From that day I always wished I could talk to you, get to know the person behind the words, behind the masterpieces, behind the blog because you seemed like such a sweet person and now... After some time, I got that chance and I'm so happy I got it. You are everything I thought you would be and 1000x more, you are sweet, caring, smart, loving, wise, joyful and so supportive to me and to everyone in this community! You always spread love and that's so important and so nice of you to do, the way you write essays in the tags for everyone's posts just shows that! It's such a simple thing but means so much.

And I'm not even mentioning how talented you are with non-written posts because those are on another level aswell, I mean you always surprise me with your ideas and creativity and just knowing that whenever I come here I will have some sort of attack waiting for me just keeps me going and I love everything you do so much.

I'll never be able to thank you enough for being so welcoming when I barely knew anyone and for making me feel so much more comfortable here! Getting to know you better and to share this experience with someone like you has been a blessing and I wouldn't change any second of it, thank you for everything you have done and for always being so sweet to me. I don't understand what I did to deserve all that but that just shows again how wonderful you are.

I'm wishing you a merry christmas! Surrounded by everyone you love and that makes you happy because you deserve that and so much more, please never change, never stop being like this, a special and wonderful person. I hope you enjoy this surprise :) Have a wonderful day Cille 💛

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-> From: @remy3010 (Remy)

Hihi Cille❤ I love your blog so much especially music analysis! I just fall in love with your music analysis since your first posts.

For me whose mother tongue is not English, it takes a while to read but I'd love to. Because these articles deserve more people to see (including me)！

I have read every article of yours, the content touches me all the time. (Sometimes I have a lot of words want to tell you, But I don’t know how to speak in English..sorry🥺so I give❤ and reblog)

Anyway, thank you for writing beautiful words and sharing with us! I hope you can keep this passion forever, and everything go well. May you have wonderful days my friend ❤

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-> From: @franboos (Francine)

hi bb cille,

wanted to tell u that i love u blog and the time u put into analyzing stuff is shhshdhdhdhd. queen shit. u seen so genuine to talk to idk, i get those nice, non judgmental, relaxed and cool vibes from u. lmao. pls stay on tumblr for as long as u can cuz i love ur posts. u notice such little things in clips from wtfock, like u have a very detailed eye miss hehe. i really want to get to know u more cuz i really think we could vibe v well together, and that’s on perioood 😌. i hope u have a great great day while reading this queen. never stop what you’re doing cuz ur great at it. i love you !!

many kusjes and knuffels*,

fran

(*knuffels means hugs but also stuffed animal in dutch, did u know that? otherwise now u do, nice isn’t it)

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-> From: @dagcutie (Pauline)

hey hey cille!!

I must admit i’m very much a fan of you and your blog

first of all, your posts? chefs kiss!! i mean your music analysis are amazing and so on point, your photo edits are always perfect and the colorings are so beautiful, your long text posts 'drabble/headcanon style' are so cute and always makes me so soft and emotional...

your love for black and white? that’s a big yes!! anyways everything you do is perfect!!

also can we take a moment to appreciate your person? i think we can and we must do it..

you’re always so supportive and kind, all the nice tags you let under peoples creations are so sweet!! I also could cry about how cute you are always leaving lovely messages to people inbox or coming randomly to them to say something nice.. you’re the most beautiful soul and a blessing for this fandom!! please never stop being you!! ily a lot, sending you all my love and i wish you an amazing day<3

knus og kys til dig💛✨

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-> From: @allee-sander (Tanya)

Cille, you are an amazing person. you are so kind and loving. every time i see you on my dash, my face lights up. you are a literal angel. you are loved and appreciated, never forget that.

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-> From: @tsjernobyl (Emma)

Cille, you are a genuinely kind and loving soul who's just on this site to talk about the things you love and spread a little joy and everyone can tell that the moment they go onto your blog. i've seen you be nothing but lovely to everyone you interact with and it's a real honor to be mutuals with you and interact from time to time. You are always one of the sweetest and most supportive people here, and i hope you feel that love flowing back to you at all times because you always have my warmest wishes and love!!!!!

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-> From: @dreamaur (Ann)

How does it feel to be so cool and sweet and supportive??? I love you and your mind and how you see so many details and capture them so well with words,,,queen keep going with your top tier analysis and text posts that make me emotional everything single time

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-> From: @annonymannonym (Alice)

Where do I even begin ummm ... well words may not be enough to describe such angelic human being that Cille is but today is about her *about you Cille* !♡! Honestly I’m so so happy and honoured and so grateful to have meet and know you and come along your blog and your amazing posts and edits , let’s s not forget about the masterpiece that your analysis is cuz I live for every single one of them ! Always so on point and touchy and so so emotionally, they give you a whole new perspective and point of view and helps you connect with the person that goes throught those feelings , helping you understand so much deeper the feelings and the emotions he experience in that right moment( so thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking your time and writing these it really shows how much passion and love you put on making these! they absolute helped me to understand and feel much more the meaning behind all these little moments you captured so so well and wonderful ! ) You’re always such a blessing here so lovely friendly so goodhearted and sooo on ... < insert here all the good compliments in the world > cuz they all applies to you ! Know that you’re so special and such a light a sunshine wherever you are and go , you always spread so much positivity and good energy and love and compassion and you support every single people your way comes along with and you shown so much respect and love and understanding ! Always with a wise and thoughtful mind and with the right words at you using them with so much care and mining fullness ! And your blog i love love love it the b&w aesthetic and your love for it owns my heart !! I adore your posts so much ( or ramblings or thoughts as you may call them but know they are so so much more than that its a way of yours to express yourself and open up and pour every feeling you experience and many people found themselves and feel with you , I find myself in them and resonate with them every time ! ahh and your tags that you write in every post are sooo sweet and cute i could read them all day long just coming on your blog and read them makes my day so much better ) they are such a good way to brighten your day and they put a smile on my face whenever i see you on my dash truly a blessing to have you here! Never forget how unique and special human being you are and every one who has you in their lives are very blessed to have you ! Never change being this beautiful inside and out but most importantly inside ! literally a tresure your soul is and must be protected at all cost so take very good care of it ! Don’t forget to always do what makes you happy and gives joy and peace and just you know that good feeling you have in your chest and heart whenever you do something you love and like with passion and joy. I could say so much more but maybe I’ll repeat myself cuz there are never enough compliments to say about how wonderful person you are! you deserve every single one of them ! I really meant every word i said from the bottom of my heart and know that i really apreciate and love all you do and I’ll be here to support you anytime! You deserve the absolute world and more!! love you Cille! ♡ Okey bye✿

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-> From: @robbesdriesen (Bianca)

Cille ~ such a lovely presence to see on my dash always!! Your support towards everyone in the fandom is more than appreciated and so is your love that you continuously aim to spread <3

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-> From: @happilyinsane (Dharaa)

Hey Cille 💕

Just wanted to say that I think you are really sweet and lovely. I see you everywhere on the tumblr. Wanna thank you for keeping this fandom alive during the drought and keep us entertained. I see your tags on people's posts and I always feel like you are so kind and sweet to spend your time appreciating people's work. Doesn't matter if its a photo or an edit or whatever. You are so nice to pay attention to everyone individually. You are such a good friend/mutual, always appreciating and sliding into their asks and just making their day a lil bit better. You definitely bring so many smiles on our faces. I am sure everyone is very thankful to have you in this fandom, I know I am.

I know we haven't interacted that much but thank you for sliding into my asks and giving me an opportunity to interact with you. You are the sweetest, baby. And I hope you like this whole thing that Rodrigo is doing, because you definitely deserve it. Keep lighting up our dashes with your posts, pls. Ilysm 💕

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-> From: @alwaysaneverland (Sarah)

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-> From: @theflowerisblue (Lola)

Cille! You’re such a present part of the tag! You’re always interacting and posting and I love reading what you have to say. Your music analysis are so interesting and I also think you’re really funny! I love your black and white aesthetic and most of all I love how supportive and positive you’re towards everyone!

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-> From: @fvae (Fae)

hi cille!! I'm really glad to have met you through this fandom and I hope you like the surprise!! I loved to read your song analysis because they're always on point and well thought of👌 💯 and your edits!! *chef's kiss*

sending you lots of love and hugs 💕💖💫

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-> From: @embeddedinmybrain (Tasfia)

Hi Cille! You are just a ray of sunshine!! And you are the sweetest and kindest person here. I loved following through with your wtfock music analysis posts bc everything you felt is exactly what I felt. They made me really emotional!! And of course I (and Sarah and Fae) appreciate your tags for moyo season so much. We wait for them and we read them to each other and we just love seeing your reactions to it. Your edits are incredibly amazing too and I love the colouring in them. You are just an amazing sweetheart and I’m so glad to know you 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕

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-> From: @veerledejaegers (Soph)

Cille, you are very friendly and sweet, always insightful and seem like an incredibly lovely person that i hope i can get to know better ❤️(also love the black and white aesthetic)

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-> From: @sanderxrobbee (Semri)

Cilleeeeeeeeeeee loml!!!! Merry Christmas to you! I genuinely wish you all the best and I hope you get to spend all the holidays in the best way possible! You’re such a blessing to this fandom because you’re talented in every single way, whether it’s your writing or your godly Photoshop skills, oh and let’s not forget your dedication because you’re there all the time to brighten our days and make us smile. I haven’t known you for long, but I truly love and appreciate all you do and I’m grateful that you always take the time to compliment everything and everyone. You have no idea how much it makes me smile when you say my gifs are good because I’ve yet to learn a lot, but you are seriously one of the biggest reasons I haven’t given up the second something got too complicated. Where am I going with this? No idea. Anyway, I adore the fuck out of you and I’m happy to take part in this “project” because you really deserve all the love in the world. Once again, happy holidays!

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-> From: @hopelessromanticvirgo (Elene)

Talking about you Cille is making me always so emotional but I will try my best not to burst out from love and emotions. You’re one of the sweetest person here and I will never get tired of saying that.

We haven’t talked that much directly but I don’t need that to know you’re one of the greatest person here, I just know that for sure. I’m also sure about it because I can see the way you treat people? Even speaking about your tags? Like you take the time out of your day to make sure everybody gets love and everybody gets attention. You make all of us smile and I adore your tags on my stories. You can’t even imagine how many times I have reread your posts about it, like I crave it, I’m in love with it, it makes me feel so happy and so loved and I’m certain that everybody else feels the same way too. You always know how to make everybody’s day better and how to make them feel special.

And please, don’t even get me started on your posts! Your song analysis. Like I know I’ve told you this thousands of times before but I don’t care, I’m saying it again! The way you pictured and described all those songs and scenes!!! Like wow! I’d always reread your posts about that one specific scene after rewatching the season countless of times. (And you also did so many scenes!! I’m in awe and I’m emo from just thinking about it)

Watching clips were different but reading them with lyrics were a whole other thing. I just felt so connected with the whole story and scenes when I’d ready your posts. And connect scenes with the music and it was the best thing ever. Sometimes I still go back and reread some of my favorite posts of yours. I never get tired of it.

And you’re so kind and so sweet that I could write essays about it! Such a blessing to this world! I just love you a lot okay? Everybody needs somebody like you, somebody who shines from kindness and love and people around you must be so lucky who get to meet you everyday and talk to you!

Thank you so much for everything you do, for being you and for making my day better and making me smile every time you reblog my posts or every time I just see your username on my dashboard! It’s such a small gesture but means so much!

Thank you for existing, babe! I hope you’re gonna have a wonderful day! And I’m sending you the biggest hug and my positive vibes! I hope a smile never leaves your face! And I only wish the best things up onto you! I love you! ❤️❤️❤️

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-> From: @itubainaretro (Esther)

Cille, my queen!!! Hi, sweetheart! Just dropping by to say that I hope you’re having a good day, despite the situation that the world is in, and that you’re feeling happy, loved, cherished and warm today, because you’re you and you deserve to feel all the best feelings in the world! I wish you all the happiness in the world and that all your wishes come true too, because you sure deserve it! Thank you for being this amazing, inspiring, talented and sweet person that you are and that I’ve come to know a little bit in the past few months! I know we don’t exactly talk that much, but I want you to know that I love seeing you, your beautiful edits and your extremely heart warming “moments that live in my head rent free” posts on my dash daily! They all really make my days! Thank you for sharing your posts with us and making this fandom (and the world, honestly) a better place! You’re amazing and I’m really glad I pressed the follow button the day I did when I started following you! I hope this little message makes you smile today, babe! Best wishes and lots and lots of love,

Esther (itubainaretro) ♥️

PS: don’t forget to hydrate yourself, wear a mask and stay safe haha xxxx.

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-> From: @driesendotkom (Marie)

Dear cille,

the reason i‘m writing this is to simply say thank you. thank you for being such a stable part of the fandom. every time i go into the tag i know i will see you there and it makes me smile every time. i can’t tell you how many hours i spent reading every one of your song analysis. even now a year after season 3 ended i find myself going back to them now and then to reminisce and relive those moments all over again.

i also want to say thank you for being such a kind and welcoming person. you care so much about the people you are close to. you are so easy to talk to and you make the people around you feel comfortable instantly. you brought a little bit of hygge into my life and one more time i want to say thank you 💛

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-> From: @driesenrobbe (Becca)

my dear, sweet, cille! you never fail to make me smile and im beyond happy that we became mutuals! im sure i’ve already said this a million times before but you really do have the biggest heart and i couldn’t thank you enough for all the love and support you constantly share to everybody in the wtfock fandom. plus the talent you possess... girllllll i love seeing your edits and reading your posts (honestly your mind is just wowowowow, it’s on a whole other level of incredible and i hope you know just how wonderful you are). also the way you always write entire essays in the tags of other posts... like you really do take the time to make everyone feel so welcomed and loved, and I’m sending you an infinite amount of love and appreciation in return! you really are the sweetest, most caring person who deserves all the happiness in the world, an actual ray of sunshine! i hope you know how loved and cherished you are, and that good vibes are always being sent your way. Many hugs and kusjes, ilysm!!!! <3

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-> From: @mijnlief (Eline)

Dear Cille,

This year has been a weird one, but I do know that it has also been one of the best because of meeting you. In such a short time we became so close, and I am so grateful to have met you during these weird times. We are so alike in many ways and I love that so much. Our Skype conversations are my favorite and the essays you send me about my writing and just about me being me always make me feel happy and loved. You are the kindest and most generous person ever. I hope you know how special you are. I am so proud of you for everything you have achieved this year and for choosing yourself in situations where it got hard to make a choice in the first place. I know I tell you that everyday, but it doesn’t hurt to say it again right here. I hope this post makes you smile, because you deserve that so much for just being who you are. You bring happiness to all of my days and I can’t wait to hug you one day soon when everything in the world calms down again. I love you lots! 🧡 Eline

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-> From: @onzeziggy (Laurien)

My sweetest Cille, where do I even begin? I suggest we should just begin from the very beginning and I’m sorry in advance if this is going to be a long, sappy text! But now that I have the chance (shout out to Rodrigo) for saying everything I want, I’m not able to tell you how long this will take.

So Cille, I still remember very clearly the first time I saw your account appearing on my dash. It was a music analysis from one of the songs from season 3. I was so amazed by it, because I could imagine how much time it takes to make it and observe every little detail in a single clip. I immediately fell in love with the concept of it and one week later, when you posted another one, my mouth dropped to the floor. Another music analysis? From the same person? Who is she and how do I become her friend? After that second post, I immediately started following you and became your little fangirl. I don’t lie when I say I was waiting every week for a new update of your incredible music analysis nor when I say I loved every single one of them (and still do). I know I already said this a million times, but your words of telling what was going on in every clip, about the emotions present in them, and how the music blended all of it together… No one, and I mean no one could have done it any better! I will forever be grateful for those posts and I want to thank you once again for wanting to share them and your talent with us!

After the music analysis adventure, your picture edits catched my eye. I love them so so much and I also took some creation of it for making some myself. Still, I was this little fangirl, knowing your name is Cille, but also wanting to know so much more about the person behind one of my favorite blogs. And now, during this hiatus, I can say I’ve got to know you and I couldn’t be any happier about it! Starting with little comments in each other’s tags, having little chats in the comment sections to screaming about a possible drawing of Robbe from Sander on their one year anniversary. And look at us now, reblogging almost every post and writing essays in each other’s tags hahah! Honestly, it keeps me alive during these times and I’m so glad I can do this together with you! I live for your attacks! Aaaah now that I’m talking about an attack, the fact that you have a dimples post ready is making me so excited and I think about it every day! We both know what’s important in love and life and that’s Robbe’s dimples! But this right here shows once again what an amazing sweet person you are! No one on here has ever done anything like this for me before, so I can’t thank you enough for this and all the other things you did and still do for me! And the privilege I have to be able to call you my friend warms my heart <33

I’m going to end this with a little quote Robbe wrote in one of his Instagram posts. When I read it again a couple of days ago, I immediately thought of you and what we’ve been through together the last few weeks :’)) Once again, thank you so much for everything you do for me and for everyone here in this fandom and being the amazing person you are! You deserve the whole world for it!

“Sometimes it’s like we just met yesterday, but other days it seems like I already know you my whole life, I love you Cille!” <33

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I hope you enjoyed this💛 If you didn't know this community loved you yet (and I don't think that was possible), now you definetly do.

Extra: I'd like to thank once again everyone that took part it this surprise, you are all the sweetest for taking some time to write this and to help me with it! Thank you so so much✨

#Surprise!#Cille this is the least you deserve #but I'm so happy I got to do this #with the help of all this sweet people #I'm wishing you (and everyone) an amazing day!#and never forget that...#we all love you!

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