Eyes On Me, Sweets.

Leliana Dress

mid length dress with animalistic prints

V 1 is with bra and v2 without

all LODs, HQ textures, bgc, custom thumbnails,

dl early access patreon💗

in game preivew ⬇️

Rawrkki's sims cc dump

Hello eveyonee!

the time has finally come to showcase my sims cc collection that i promised you all. this is all the cc i have collected from july - september. it has taken me ages to put this all together so thank you for your patience :D

Hair ::

dahlia hair , jenn hair , silas hair , helia hair , helena hair , farah buns , suki hair , cassandra hair , page braids , aventia hair , bordeaux hair , byrdie bun , haven hair set , queenie hair , julie and cassie hairs , katniss braid , flowers bun , lucia bun , rachel hair , rin hair , futaba hair , laura ponytail , henrietta hair , gladys hair , libby hair , cassie hair , bonnie hair , funke hair , the curls collection , hye hair , nia hair , camille hair , iris hair , meiko hair , alexa hair , eylen hair set , bellatrix hair , gia hair

Sets ::

(g)i-dle - tomboy set , the downtown collection , romantic pajama set , y2k style set , the solstice collection , the scream collection , winter essentials , year of the rabbit , affection set , girlieZ collection , juicy tracksuit , fairy grunge lookbook , sweetie set , the mimosa collection , meadow winds set , vellichor set , nostalgia set , the thrift set , the gossip collection , bohemian child set , karaoke set , secret society collection , lovebirds set , sunday nights collection , senior year collcetion , kumikya sweater collection , agos dress , neve set , cyber cargos , brand new set , random top collection , silky dress , luna leggings , ankle biter set , bizochito set , recolor dump (you'll have to find the meshes yourself sorryyy) , sunny skies , star collection , baby doll top , skirt collection , fold down pants , band tees , silly shirts , stripes bikinis

Makeup ::

nya eyeliner , gyaru gals , spiderlike eyeliner , graphic liner set , countess set , sour fruits set , sophia lipstick , bad bixch eyeliners , pastel y2k collection , eyeshadow n212 , sukeban eyeshadow , starliner , magbay eyeliners , nose graphic liner

Presets ::

elven ear presets , nose presets , mouth presets ,

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

Thank you all for being so patient, and im sososo sorry this took sooo long to make, ive been having some personal problems so that has taken away a huge chunk of my time. There is more i couldve included but honestly this wouldnt have ever made it out of the drafts if i tried to add all of that. If you want to see some more mods ive collected, my pinterest where everything is here: :D Thank you again for all the support, and hopefully some new content should be out soon for you guys!

Love you alll

-Atlas

morning sun . xavier thorpe x black!reader . wc: 641.

summary: spending a lazy summery morning in bed with xavier.

note: this is a love note to the summer, please hurry up i can’t stand this weather anymore

·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩

Keep reading

Hi! How are you?

Can you do 18 and 21 for fez? Thanks

grabbing your lover by the collar

exploring each other's lips

-

You stood in the kitchen, watching over the stove as you boiled pastas for dinner. Living off of take out and frozen meals was not your vibe, so you decided to show these boys how easy it was it make spaghetti. All you needed was a box of pastas and a pot of sauce. If you feel fancy, just add grilled bread and grated cheese.

''I don't get how you can eat pizza, burgers and stuff all the time. I mean, aren't you sick of it?''

''A little, but Fez can't cook for shit.''

Fez groaned and gave his brother a death glare. ''The fuck, bro. Don't give her more material to roast us.'' 

Ash shrugged, his eyes glued on the TV screen. 

''Truth comes from kids's mouths.'' You told Fez with a grin, stirring the semi-cooked spaghettis in the pot. ''Didn't you have an uncle who died of diabetes from eating McDonald's all the time? You didn't learn from his terrible life choice?''

''Uncle Carl was an in idiot. We got milk.''

You laughed. ''Sorry to disappoint you, but milk won’t balance out all the junk food you eat, love.'' 

Fez got down from the kitchen counter and walked behind you to get a drink from the fridge, pressing a kiss to your shoulder in his wake. ''And I got you.''

A smile tugged at your lips, leaning back against your boyfriend’s touch and, before he could get away from you, you turned around and pulled at the collar of his polo shirt to get a proper kiss.

Forgetting about his drink, Fez kissed back, slipping his tongue between your lips and grabbing your hips.

At the sight, Ash made a disgusted sound from the couch. ''Quit licking each other’s tonsils and watch the food. I’m hungry.''

-

Tag-list:  @milkiane  @euphoricfeminine

Fezco tag-list: @runway-to-my-aid

- we’re at this Halloween party and this guy tried to drug your drink and I should probably tell you you’re also really cute | with jj, pretty please? 💙

ofc my love!!!

warnings: mentions of attempted drugging

“hey, hey, come here,” some blond asked of you when you came out of the bathroom.

“i’m here with somebody,” you told him in case he was looking for something else in you.

“yeah, i know. the guy in green and yellow? looks like something out of the nineties?” he further questioned as you nodded your head. “do you know him well?”

“first date,” you informed him, wondering where the babbling boy was headed with all this.

“he just slipped something into your drink while you were gone.” you eyed him as he spoke. how could you know he was telling the truth? you knew more about the guy you were with than this dude so you shouldn’t trust the blond, right? he must’ve noticed your uncertainty and explained more. “my friend told me that if your ice doesn’t float, your drink has been tampered with and look at yours. i know it sounds weird that i know that but i’ve seen it happen to one of my friends before a few times.”

“shit,” you sighed, leaning against the wall next to the blond while you watched the one you were supposed to be with talk to some other guy and girl. “thanks, uhh…”

“jj,” he informed you while you nodded.

“y/n.”

“you’re pretty cute, y/n,” he stated before you giggled and his eyes widened at what he said. “i mean, uh, your costume looks cute on you, you know?”

“thank you, jj.”

“this party blows anyway. want to come to a little get together with some of my friends?” he offered, holding out a hand to you which you happily took in your red-gloved one.

“that sounds nice.”

tagging: @tovvaa @moniamaybank @makebank @saharamae21 @x-lulu @goldenroutledge @mxltifandoms06 @bibliophilewednesday @rudybarnes @dpaccione @marjorie189 @maybanksslut @outerbankies @ilyjohnb @vintageobx @osterfield23 @sunflowerbecca @cognacdelights @astronomical-parker @ilovejjmaybank @drewstarkeysbitchh @downbytheouterbanks @pogueslandia @rottenstyx @noellewrites @myalupinblack @peterscurl @luvhann @1-800-glossylipz @deathbythem

click here to be added to the tag list :)

thirteen (2003) lookbook

hi! i saw @uh0htaj 's thirteen inspired lookbook and it made me also want to make one, so i did! so here yall go, six outfits inspired by the movie thirteen :)

heres the cc links:

outfit 1

eyeliner , hair , necklace , shirt , jeans , shoes

outfit 2

lipstick , hair , shirt , jeans , bracelet , thong

outfit 3

eyeliner , hair , necklace , tshirt , jeans , shoes , purse , thong , belly piercing , bracelet

outfit 4

hair , necklace , top* , jeans , shoes , purse , belly piercing , thong

outfit 5

eyeliner , hair , shirt , jeans , belly piercing , bracelet*

outfit 6

hair , necklace , jeans , shoes , purse , bracelet

(*i couldnt find them im sorry! :( i know that the top is made by @b0t0xbrat though)

poses are made by @uh0htaj !

hope you liked this!

Confessions ✧ Fezco x Reader

A/N - Can someone pls tell me how to add a keep reading lol i’ve forgotten and i can find it online, on mobile btw thank you!!!

✎ Word count - 3,413

✩ Genre - Fluff, gets a little steamy lol

❀ Warnings - Mentions of sex

Fez was never good with words. He always struggled to put how he was feeling in his heart exactly in the right vocabulary. He always spoke with purpose, never saying anything he didn't completely believe or not mean. He was completely impeccable with his word. As your relationship developed though, he struggled to settle with just hugs and kisses, he yearned to tell you more. To tell you the truth. To tell you he thought you made his world rotate and the sun come up every morning. To tell you he trusted you with his life and loved you more than it. To tell you he wanted you forever and even after that. But for him, it was just so hard. Since he was born he always lacked physical touch, he lacked being told he was loved even more. So once he had grown up, all these things were a struggle to him. All the more when you entered his life, giving him new meaning and experiences every second you were around. Though tonight he decided it would have to change. You knew it was difficult for him, giving him plenty of time to say what he needed, unfortunately he didn't know that though. The knock on his door shook him out of his affectionate thoughts and he knew the sound off by heart. He rushed over to the door, opening it with ease to see you there, sheltering yourself with your hoodie from the Californian downpour.

"hey!" you greeted cheerfully, a paper bag of takeout in your dripping hand. He smiled, shyly as he let you inside, you immediately stripping off the damp clothes. He watched you as you dropped the bag onto the couch before going over to him to give him a hug. He almost accepted at first before pulling away quickly.

"Nah get off you're soaked!" He laughed, pulling away with out hesitation, a huge smile now growing on his freckled face.

"What do you mean? i'm dry as a desert." You replied back, laughing. Then shaking your head side to side like a kanine making all the raindrops run down your hair to the ends, splashing him.

"yo, hold up a minute! stop!" He raised his voice, lunging to the side to get away from the fallout. He began pacing away from you but you weren't gonna let him get away that easy. A mischievous look on your face as you strode after him again, trying to wrap your soaked through body around his. You made a lap or two around the 70s decor room before he had a enough. "Right that's it!" He decided, crouching down in front of you and before you realised, picking you straight up in a fireman's lift and throwing you over his broad shoulder. You waist was tickled by his firey beard as your whole weight was taken by him.

"Fez! Put me down!" You giggled, punching light fists into his back. Grabbing onto his white tee.

"No chance." He treaded through the house making a b line for the bathroom. He plonked you delicately on the tiles, a playful smile littering his lips and he leant past you for the shower head. A gasp left your throat but before you could say anything he'd turned the dial and you were now being coated in threads of ice cold water.

"No!" You shouted a grin plaster on your face as you tried to wrestle the shower head of him. He just laughed back at you, with a firm grip on the weapon.

"Do you submit?" He interrogated, the curl on his lips not faltering for a second.

"Yes! Yes! Please stop!" You pleaded, hands in front of your face to somewhat stop it from drenching you more than you were before. He let out a chuckle as he turned the dial back to zero and swung back round to see the damage. There you stood, head to toe with hair that had grown a good length and see through clothes that clung to your body in crescents. He looked you up and down, noticing he could slightly see your areoles through your saturated tee and he'd be lying if he said he didn't take a mental picture. A small wash of guilt washed over him as he saw your shoulders tense up, arms crossed over your body as your teeth began to chatter away. "Let's get you in some warm clothes." He smiled, handing you a towel before leaving the room briefly. you quickly covered yourself with the old, slightly grey cloth. The fibres quickly sending a chill down your spine before beginning to feel warmer. He returned with some boxers and a tee, placing them down on the only part of the counter that was dry and then turning to you. He rubbed his large freckled hands up and down your sides to help warm you up slightly before you both stop. He takes the towel from your grasp and you go to strip your t shirt off. The material is heavy and adheres to your curves but you shortly win the battle. He watches over you, not blinking as he watches you remove the shirt. His eyes nervously watching as your breasts bounce at the motion. "Shit.." He curses quietly under his breath, his eyes lay low and you watch his curled eyelashes blink once, his face full of admiration and desire. You just shake you head as you take the towel from him again, rubbing over your body before he takes it back without words. You grab the spare grey tee, pulling it over your head now you were dry and pulling your damp hair out the back. His eyes burn holes, making sure to watch your chest for as long as possible before it was covered up again.

"My eyes are up here!" You joke, afterwards you take off your jeans and pants, him sheepishly spinning around to give you somewhat privacy. He was afraid he crossed a line. "It was a joke Fez." You laugh, putting on his clean, white boxers as he turned back around, you now fully dressed. A smile adorns your lips and he mirrors you perfectly. "Let's eat that food before it gets cold." You say, moving towards the door as you notice his tongue peeping through his teeth. He follows behind you quickly as you jump on the couch. ripping open the bag on your lap as he sits next to you politely. You share the food equally, lying your heads back with hands on your stomach at the indulgence. The dealer turns on the remote, selecting some random action film on a channel as you cosy up. He instinctively places an arm around your shoulder and you hold his large hand. He presses a kiss to your temple, then check and you flush at the touch, his lips transferring a fuchsia glow to you. You were drawn closer, folding into his lap so you could lay your head on his warm thigh, covered in his sweatpants.

"You warmer now?" He asks briefly, rubbing small circles in your palm as his other hand was gently resting in your hair.

"Not thanks to you." You laugh lowly, thankful you were in dry clothes again.

"Stop playin." He adds before you go back to silence, the only sounds playing from the tv. He held you close, treasuring the feeling of your head resting on him, your small, soft hand held by his large warm ones. He traces your hands down to brush along your exposed thigh. He couldn't focus on the film, but only you and how much he adored you. He couldn't keep his hands off. Afterwards he bring your hand up to his mouth, where he takes your hand in both of his. Your elbow bent for ease of position. Lightly, he pulls it up to his lip where he lays a few light kisses along your knuckles before he keeps it there, his breath streaming down though your knuckles and down the back of your hand like veins.

"Fez baby, are you okay?" You ask sensitively but tired in a velvety calm voice. A voice like music to his ears.

"Uh yeah." He replies, confused as to why you'd pick up on anything.

"It's just you're being so clingy tonight." You laugh softly, not hating the feeling.

"Oh shit was I? Do you want me to stop?" He asks a slightly sad flicker in his voice. His body tensing up as he moves your hand away from his lips.

"Not at all." You reply quickly pulling both your arms into your chest to keep him close as his spare one dropped down again. You lay some kisses to his hand this time. lightly over every auburn freckle you could see. He relaxed into the movement, a sigh leaving his chest.

"There's sommin I wanna tell you." He admits gingerly, tagging your name onto the end. He sits there, heart pounding in his chest as he deepens his breaths, trying to calm his heart rate.

"Sure baby." You return, in a tranquil tone. You could feel his nervousness but didn't want to push him.

"It's just I-I.." He stuttered, trailing off. The words seemingly caught in his throat. He cursed himself for not making a plan before hand. He sighed again as you began to rub him soothingly to calm his nerves.

"Don't worry baby, you can take your time." You eased his worry as he let out another sigh frustrated with himself. Now annoyed, in a pleasantly subdued manner he lifts you up so your now sat next to each other again. He waste no time in pulling your legs over his and leaning into your lips. You were surprised at the action but quickly melted in to him. His speckled hand came up to your face, holding you firmly as you kissed tenderly and slow. His cold, gold rings stinging your inflamed cheeks. He passionately moved his lips and swiped your bottom lip a few times. He then moved his hand to your waist pulling you so you were straddling on his lap as he tugged you into his hold, your bodies aligned as one. You could tell what he was trying to say. You always knew how his mind worked about this thing, he could show his love but struggled to say it. Struggled to say all the deep and emotional things he felt inside him as he never learnt how. You tried to put his mind at ease with a "Fez it's okay, I know." You cooed. You knew he cared for you, you knew he loved you. Yes you would love to hear it, but if it was too painful for him to say, you didn't mind his lack of words. He looked back, his brows knotted together and a pained look on his beautiful face. His lips were pink and swollen in a small frown. You looked back with a sad and worried smile, watching him closely. His eyes drew glossy as he shook his head, unsatisfied. He moved in again, pressing his forehead to your own and kissing harder this time, with more aggression. His hand grabbed on to your upper back as the length of his forearm ran down your spine, trying to hold you as closely as possible. He soon carried you into the bedroom, Your legs wrapped around his middle as he lovingly put you in his sheets. Your contact not breaking for a second. You'd never seen him like this, so tender and unravelled. You feared what was running through his mind, was he safe? You kissed him back, matching his passion and longing. He then lay down, pulling you on top of him as he went to your neck smothering you in kisses.

"Baby I-" He breathed for a second, his head still tucked into your neck. He let out a disheartened groan so you pulled a hand up to stroke his shaved head. The groan rumbled through his chest into your neck, you could feel his frustration. You knew how much this meant to him but also the torment it put him through. He continued to intensely kiss you all over, his arms holding you so tight like some how you'd drift away. You pulled away and he looked up at you, a perturbed look across his face. His big blue eyes looking at you through his thick long lashes, full of concern. Your heart ruptured at the view.

"Shhh.. my love." You whispered. His eyebrows slightly dropped from there agitated state and he relaxed, defeated. His head then almost dropped before you lifted it again with one hand. You kissed him with care one last time before shuffling across the bed and pulling his head onto your chest. His weight was heavy but you didn't mind, you ached for the feel of him trusting you and having all his walls pulled down. He melted into the embrace his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you securely as you cradled his head with both arms, slowly stroking him to ease his worry. "Shhh, baby. I got you." you hushed. He demeaner was sorrowful and you could almost hear his heart snapping. It took years off your life to hear the sound. He lay in your warmth his tears welling up in his eyes but he didn't let them descend. He praised you for what you did to him, how far you had got through his hard exterior. Soon you both fell asleep as you lulled him sincerely to rest.

✧ ✧ ✧

A few hours later your eyes fluttered open, you shifted an inch or two before noticing the bed was too spacious. You were alone. You flipped your body to find the sheet unaccompanied. A frown dropped onto your face and you thought for a moment. Your body flashed back to the night before, his desperate kisses and hungered touch. Dread set in and you rushed to get up before you noticed a slip of paper on the bed beside you. You sat up noticing the paper had your name with a small heart next to it in Fezco's sharpie handwriting. You picked it up quickly opening the note to find a page long letter. Your eyes sprinted to read it.

"To my love,

There's no minute that passes where you’re not in my mind. No second where I don't want you in my arms and no lifetime where I'm not meant to be with you. You mean the world to me and I hope one day your able to see yourself through my eyes. You're kind, smart, humble, funny and a better person than anyone I know, me included. I know I struggle to find the words what to say but I just need you to know you have my entire heart. Every single cell of it. I will always be yours in this life and the next. I love you tremendously now and forever,

Fezco.”

Your heart began running marathons, racing like it's life depended on it and you brought a hand up to your chest. You felt so overwhelmed you could faint and so filled with love you could cry. Your eyes had already began dotting droplets that shot to the page like knives and you quickly moved the paper from causing anymore damage to the sheet. You processed the letter for a moment before knowing you needed to find him. You needed to tell him the same. You shot up from the bed, still dressed in his boxers and tee and dashed down the hardwood floor to the kitchen. The room was quiet, undisturbed. The streetlights flooded through the blinds, lighting it up enough for you to see Ash lounging on the floral couch.

"Yo Ash where is he?" You asked hurriedly. A hand unconsciously going to your mouth to bite your nails, to somehow relieve your worry.

"He's uh... out doing business." Ash said, not seemingly matching your anxiousness.

"What do you mean? He didn't tell me about any of that." You pried, walking closer to the child. His eyes moved up from his phone, the brown circles looking innocently into your own.

"It's just some hand over or somin’, nothing to worry about." Ash lied, his eyes dotting back down to allow himself to say those untruthful words. You nodded, eyebrows still merged together as you sat on the sofa opposite him, body tense and your nails corroded.

"When's he back?" You asked. He swiped his iPhone screen to see the time before replying.

"Not long, maybe 20." The minutes felt like hours, sat here watching the clock tick, some stupid tv show playing on the TV that you tried to focus on but couldn't. You heard a shuffle behind the door, your body jolted to stand up as you gave it your whole attention. Ash did the same. You heard the gate clatter and open before the handle to the door dipped and moved towards you. You saw his foot first, a black trainer step into the house. Your eyes moved upward to where he was as you ran to him quickly.

"Fez!" You cried, jumping onto him before he had time to shut the door behind him. He quickly made eyes with his brother before throwing him the black knitted balaclava that was behind his back. Now hidden from you. He then softened into your embrace his eyes closing as he moved his hand you comfort you. "Baby i love you." leaked out of your mouth. "Where were you? You had me so worried." You whined into him, his skin slightly flush from the outside.

"I had to take care o' somin, it's okay now." He sighed. "Let's go back to sleep." Ash got up from behind you as you continued to embrace, Fezco sending him a nod to go back to his room. You pulled slightly away as you heard the click of Ash's door and soon noticed the crimson liquid, dried over the back of his hands.

"Baby.." You trailed off, looking up at the ginger in front of you. He looked down to see what you were referring to before one hand went to the back of his nape to scratch it nervously.

"Nah It's cool." He said, then knowing you weren't satisfied with his answer as a concerned look danced over your appearance again. "It's not mine." He watched as you chewed your lip to the side, taking a deep breath before nodding ever so slightly. "Now cmon, you go to bed i'll get washed up and come join you." You swallowed the lump in your throat before turning slowly, lazily walking back into his room and lying on the now icy sheets. You spread out unenthusiastically, thinking. 'what was he up to?' 'where had he gone?' 'why didn't he tell you?' Your contemplating thoughts were interrupted by a click off the door and him gently moving a hand to your legs so he could get in. You wasted no time in clinging to him, wrapping both arms around his neck as he practically yanked you to lie on him. His warm weight beneath you.

"I missed you, please don't do that again." You pleaded, kissing into his neck as the curtains now slowly started to lighten with the morning sun rising.

"Sorry ma, it won't happen again." He smiled softly, graciously having you in his arms again as he wished he never had to leave. His mind wondered for a moment. "Did you find the uh.." You interrupted, going straight to the point.

"Yes." You said caressing your lips across the male again, arms running over his body with care. "It was so, so beautiful baby, i feel the same way.” You whispered delicately in his ear before placing a kiss behind it.

"For real?" He asked, almost mockingly with his voice above a whisper.

"Of course, but let me show you." You smiled, moving to lay a lustful kiss on his small sweet lips. Deepening it til you could go no further. You showed him all the love he needed that night. You showed him how he should be respected, praised and adored. Just how he had treated you the whole time. He felt closer than he ever has before, with you that night, now knowing one day he had to make you his wife.

red lipstick | rc

| pairing: (non canon) rafe cameron x female reader

| genre: fluff, college rafe, halloween fic

| content warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, mentions of food, a few tears

| précis: you get your boyfriend to dress up with you.

| word count: 1,512

You could barely believe it yourself when your boyfriend agreed to coordinate costumes with you.

Well, scratch that—you could believe it, but it was the particular costume you’d chosen that he agreed to—that shocked you.

Keep reading

Fifty Seven

summary: prompt fill. between 1982 and 1983, Wally meets and falls completely head over heels for a girl who changes everything. his biggest fan, his greatest love. you. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: fluff. AU - pre-canon. dorks falling in love. author doesn't know American football. total disregard for canon lore. HEA.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🏈

Fifty Seven

It was gradual, how things developed between you and Wally. Slow and peripheral at first. Then, like a confetti cannon—pop💥—instant, exciting; a pocket of fresh air in a dense smog. And it was all thanks to Wally's best friend, Rodney.

See, Wally was a baseball guy. Had planned to continue being a baseball guy through high school. He was an excellent pitcher with an impressive BA, and his mama had been over-the-top supportive for Wally to join the team—believed in him so much that she'd even strongarmed Coach Burns to let Wally try out for varsity.

But Rodney? Had wanted to join the football team. And Wally had wanted to do everything with his inseparable since birth best buddy, so he'd found himself donning a helmet and nailing technical drills like it was paint-by-numbers. Obviously, he'd made the team. Had started winning games, gained popularity and praise and attention from girls. Had fast become Coach's MVP only to, in sophomore year, be transferred to the varsity team. Go Devils!

That'd meant training longer, playing harder, and receiving interested elevator-looks from the hottest chicks in school. Seniors who'd graduated out of the awkwardness of puberty and had learned how to flaunt their curves. Don't worry, Rodney had been along for the ride, built like a brick shithouse and equally as formidable on the field, and he'd kept Wally humble.

Not that he'd needed to, because the thing about attention was the more Wally got, the less he was seen.

Yeah, he was the star receiver, the guy whose name everyone knew. But...that was about all they knew about him. People summed him up to the number on his jersey. Shallow. Detached. The girls he took on dates wanted the infamy of having made out with him—"he's such a fantabulous kisser,"—and the guys admired the hell out of him, clapped his back and handed him beers, but no one expressed an interest in peeling back flesh and bone to see what made Wally tick.

Wally wasn't lonely; he had Rodney and Don and Keith. BFFs since kindergarten who gave a real shit about him. It was just that, if people approached him to ask questions, he wanted it to feel less like an interview and more like a connection. Small talk was exhausting.

He'd been contemplating this when you'd first popped onto his radar. Shooting hoops in the gym at lunch to brood over his latest failed effort with a girl—Sarah Miller from History—when, oh shit, look out!, you'd walked through the door the second Wally had decided to unleash his frustration by whipping the ball at the wall. He'd overcompensated. The ball had curved to the left. Smack, you'd taken it square in the head.

Somehow, you hadn't been hurt, though the sound had convinced Wally you should've had a bruise blossoming on the area of impact. He'd run over, eyes wide in panic, visually checking you over to ensure he hadn't concussed you.

He'd rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah," You'd grinned, friendly, not even a little bit upset, "Happens more than you think." Which would've raised flags if Wally hadn't been preoccupied by how your proximity smelled like summer.

After a moment of uncertainty, Wally had stuck out his hand and introduced himself, "I'm Wally Clark. I, uh... I'm better at football." He'd felt like in idiot five seconds later when you'd merrily declared:

"I know," still smiling like he hadn't just thoroughly embarrassed himself. "You always feint left." Then, in general consideration, "I'm surprised no one's figured that out yet."

Wally had stared at you in surprise, "I mean... I do what feels right in the moment."

You'd raised your hands, "I'm just saying, your recovery's weak on your left backfoot, so you might wanna switch it up soon."

Wally had crashed through a gamut of emotions in under a second, beginning with insecurity and ending in shockawe. Because you'd noticed something. And, okay, yes, it'd been jersey-number related, but it hadn't been how well he filled out his uniform.

"You come to the games?" He'd wondered as he'd valiantly ignored how his stomach had started to feel squirmy.

You'd nodded, "You're fun to watch." And you'd said it so...casually. Like it'd been part of the Split River High zeitgeist: The stadium became a sardine can because Number 57, Wally Clark, was fun to watch.

"So, I guess you're gonna be there tomorrow?" He'd asked, the seed of an unfamiliar sense of intrigue planted. He'd watched you tilt your head, watched your eyes light up when you'd smiled. Wally had felt his cheeks heat and his eyes go soppy in response.

"That's the plan, Stan," You'd gleefully confirmed.

That'd been where it'd all started.

You and he hadn't become friends or anything like that, but Wally had felt a connection. Like you and he had clicked. From then on, he'd sought you out in the crowd at every game. Where's Waldo between plays. You'd never been in the same place twice, and as soon as he'd find you, you'd hold up a poster-board boasting a glittery '57' in school blue, and cheer him on with gusto.

It'd swiftly become Wally's favorite part of playing football.

Tonight, Wally was mid-search, batting away Rodney's reminder that the team planned to hit Max's Diner after the game, win or lose, when Number 36, Matt Wilson, advised, "Dude, don't interrupt. It's like a good-luck ritual at this point."

Rodney frowned, "What're talking about?"

Even Wally broke his concentration and swiveled his head to look at Matt in confusion.

With a snort, Matt pointed out, "Clark always looks for the girl, finds her, then plays harder than ever and we win the game. He's been doing it for weeks." He shrugged, "I mean, whatever works, right?"

He did? Huh. He guessed he did...

"You got a girlfriend and didn't say anything?" Rodney accused, a little hurt. "Ouch."

"It's not like that," Wally assured him, though he felt his cheeks flush and his lips curve into a dopey smile.

Rodney studied Wally for a moment and then, "Alright, my man, what's her name?" A big, teasing grin on his face.

Wally opened his mouth to answer before he realized, shit, he actually had no idea. You hadn't given him your name the afternoon he'd accidentally pelted you with a basketball.

"You're not serious." Rodney said flatly, "you don't even know her name?" while Matt slapped his knee and crowed.

Wally was about to defend himself when, just over Rodney's shoulder, there you were, gaze already on him. His insides instantly went gooey, broad smile stretched across his face, and Rodney leveled him with an unimpressed look that Wally refused to acknowledge.

"For the love of God, ask for her name." Rodney commanded before he stuck his mouthguard between his teeth.

The whistle blew and the game continued.

The Devils won.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Taking Rodney's suggestion was somewhat harder than Wally had anticipated. He just couldn't bring himself to do it, nerves piqued whenever he caught sight of you in the hall. He wasn't a nervous guy—Wally was a big, brave boy, thank you very much—but something about you made him stutter and overthink and, aaah, what would he even say!? Hey, thanks for coming to watch me play after I hit you in the face. Also, what's your name, girl who I share a new, ongoing at-game tradition?

Lame.

He needed more information. ✨A r e a s o n✨. Some unavoidable situation wherein Wally had to go up to you that didn't insist upon itself. Or he could actually be a big, brave boy and just say hi as casually as you'd told Wally he was fun to watch.

Between the last game and the next, Wally began gathering facts from a distance (while Rodney's gaze burned a hole into the side of Wally's head).

He learned that you sat with a group of sophomores in the cafeteria, laughing along yet not interjecting, comfortable giving the stage to your friends. Being a year below him explained why Wally hadn't noticed you before, but since that fateful day in the gym, he hadn't been able to stop noticing you.

You were quiet, though not in a shy way. You often spent time in the library—or, rather, you were always in the library when Wally happened to be, nose in a book on the windowsill. You stepped aside to let people go through a door first, and smiled at everyone; and on Mondays and Thursdays your fingers and jeans were smeared with charcoal from your Art class.

Your clothes changed, but your shoes didn't. Beat up Converse you clearly loved to death. You carried around a Sony walkman like the one Keith had, headphones on in the mornings and around your neck in the afternoons. Wally wanted to know what music you listened to.

Truth be told, he wanted to know a lot of things. Like your favorite movie and what you did in your spare time. If you went to parties or preferred to stay home and play boardgames (he wouldn't mind trading a sticky ping-pong ball for a Monopoly shoe). Were you strictly a cassette girl or did you listen to vinyl, too? Bike or license? Star Trek or Star Wars? Tom or Jerry?

God, Wally had it bad. He wanted to know everything. Every detail.

And, finally, after several failed attempts to muster the courage to cold approach you, ✨a r e a s o n✨ fell into Wally's lap and he decided it was now or never.

Practice had just ended. He was loose and warm and in a good mood, and after saying goodbye to the guys on the field, he turned and saw you sitting alone on the bleachers. Headphones on like a headband, the earpieces behind your ears. You scribbled in a notebook, tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth, clearly 100% focused on whatever you were working on.

Wally's eyes softened and his heartbeat sped up. You were adorable.

Clearing his throat to announce himself, he climbed the bleachers and shuffled across the middle bench to take a seat beside you.

"Hey," He smiled, broad and hopefully not too eager.

Your head lifted and you smiled back.

Wally melted inside.

"Hi, Wally Clark," You said as you closed your notebook and shifted to give him your full attention. "Not practicing your free throws today?" You teased with a glint in your eye.

Wally ducked his head as he chuckled, "Nah, not today. I decided to leave that to the professionals."

"Mm, yeah, that might be for the best," And then, fixing him with a cheeky grin, "You know, if dodgeball ever becomes a recognized sport, you should totally join a team."

Wally pressed his lips together, doing his best to hide how big his smile would be otherwise, before he glanced at you with a raised brow, "Oh. So, you're funny?"

You giggled like sweet melody, "Let's call it observant."

He released his smile, heart fluttering in his chest, eyes flickering across your face to take in every detail. There was something in him—a magnet behind his ribs—that drew Wally toward you. He couldn't explain it. Barely knew you enough to label it as more than attraction, but it was more. His gaze dipped to your lips, traced the shape of your smile, then skirted back up to meet your eyes.

"Alright, let's call it observant." He agreed, his smile somehow widening.

After a moment of comfortable silence, "Your feints are getting better," you commented, "I can't predict which way you're gonna go anymore."

And he positively preened; spine straight, chest puffed out, proud to have earned your admiration. Maybe that's what'd always been missing. He'd never had to work for it, everyone throwing themselves at his feet just for a split second of his attention. Wally had always been approached, never had to do the approaching.

Was that the thrill of the chase?

No. Of course not. You weren't the deer to his crosshairs. But he had to admit, it was nice that he could trust you weren't talking to him to get something out of it. Which is probably why, before he could stop himself, Wally blurted:

"Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?"

You seemed surprised, brows shooting up. Still, your smile remained and, with a chuckle, you nodded, "That would be nice." And then, eyes narrowing, "Nowhere that involves you having to throw things, though, right?"

Hand to his heart, "I'll save it for the field," Wally promised, suddenly feeling giddy and overwhelmed. He had to resist the urge to bite his lip in excitement. Raked his fingers through his hair and glanced bashfully away to compose himself.

"Very appreciated." You bumped your shoulder against his arm.

The brief contact ignited a thousand butterflies to take flight in his belly. He stood, gathered his sports bag and beamed down at you. You looked back, all cute and sweet and appearing nowhere near as affected as Wally felt which made him feel a little silly for the intensity of his body's reactions to you.

"How about the arcade...around 3?" He suggested, putting as much confidence behind his words as he could.

After a moment's thought, "Can we make it in the evening? Say around 6?" You asked.

"Yeah," Wally replied, "Yeah, we can make it 6." He took a couple of backward steps, "I can pick you up at your place."

You shook your head, "I'll meet you there."

"Great, it's a date," He nearly choked when he registered what he'd said, face absolutely flaming, though he didn't take it back. He almost tripped over his own feet as you didn't correct him.

Instead, all you said was, "Can't wait."

You didn't see it—God, he hoped you didn't see it—but as soon as he was off the bleachers and a good enough distance away, Wally fist pumped, practically vibrating out of his skin. Holy crap, he was going on a date with you! He was going to spend time with you, get to know you, connect with you the way he'd always wanted to connect with someone outside of Rodney, Don, and Keith.

It was only when he was in his car and on his way home to shower that he realized he still didn't know your name.

He could hear Rodney's eyeroll from there.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

You'd noticed Wally from the start. It was difficult not to, the guy a high-rise human, towering over most of the student body. But, it wasn't just his physical presence. Nor was it how good he was at attracting attention on and off the field with his exuberance and abundance of energy.

It was the moments between the jokes he made with his friends. Between performing for the crowd when he led the Devils to victory. The somber, introspective moments he thought he had to himself. And he did, for the most part. You'd never meant to intrude. It just so happened that he often used the same spaces you did to find peace.

You weren't surprised that he hadn't noticed you before he'd lodged a basketball at your head. Few people did. Not bitterly; that was just simply how things had befallen you and you'd learned to adjust. In fact, you had approximately two people you considered close and had realized that was more than enough. Still, you enjoyed meeting people where you could. They were fascinating. And, these days, none were so fascinating as Wally Clark.

He had hands that swallowed whatever they held; a smile that brightened a room; and eyes that made your skin tingle, their gaze soulful and heavy whenever they landed on you at his games like a prize. You craved those eyes on you, a flower to sunlight, and were excited beyond measure that you'd have them all to yourself for a night.

When he'd asked you out, it'd taken everything in your power not to kick your feet and giggle in delight. Be cool, you'd told yourself, acting as though you hadn't been daydreaming about Wally Clark since you'd first heard his name in the halls. What you wouldn't have given to spend more of Saturday with him, but things were somewhat strange for you, and you'd had to shave the hours down.

As restrictive as it was, you were only able to go out when the town was sleepier. The streets less crowded, the energy laggard; the shadows darker and the moon visible. Unfortunately, you had hard rules to follow, though, after sundown, no one really paid attention to your whereabouts. You could sneak out unnoticed and do as you please so long as you were back before anyone knew you'd been gone.

It sucked, but it was what it was and there was nothing you could do about it, so you'd set the time for your date with Wally later and hoped you'd be satisfied with the hours you and he did get to be together.

When you arrived at the arcade, Wally was already there, leaning against the exterior wall, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression transforming from teen mag sultry to puppy bright when he caught sight of you. Don't squeal, don't squeal, don't squeal—you did great, kid—you waved sweetly and took measured steps toward him, matching his expression with a happy one of your own.

"Hey, you made it," Wally said as if he'd been worried you'd flake.

"Like I'd miss the chance to kick your ass at Space Invaders." You scoffed, hands on your hips as you pinned him with a challenging look.

Wally laughed and the sound when straight to your chest, settled between your ribs, and you knew your eyes were likely doing something dreamy and dazed. If he noticed, he didn't comment; held out his arm like a gentleman and escorted you inside.

You did, in fact, kick his ass at Space Invaders.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Whatever, you may have beaten him at Space Invaders, but Wally wiped the floor with you at Time Pilot. To further impress you with his skills, he won you a prize from the claw crane. Overlooking the fact that it'd taken several coins and a lot of cursing, Wally felt like the king of the world having handed over a plastic ball stuffed with enough raffle tickets that you could take home a plastic necklace.

He looked for any and every opportunity to touch you, graze the back of his hand across yours, then, bolder, squeezing you into his side as you and he moved between machines. Just as you were about to beat his score at Pac Man, he grabbed you around the waist and spun you away from the control panel, watching triumph when the monitor announced Game Over and Wally's score beat yours by more points than you could come back from.

You shrieked and giggled when he slung you over his shoulder to carry you to the new air hockey table. You sprung into his arms when he defended your honor at the foosball table against another pair of arcade goers. By the end of the night, he had your hand in his, fingers laced, as he walked you home.

It'd been the most fun he'd had in—God—forever. Yeah, he hung out with the guys, went camping and played videogames and did things. Always busy, always entertained. Or, rather, he did the entertaining. A constant performance to keep people interested. Tonight, with you, it'd been different. He was relaxed, completely at ease, feeling like himself for the first time in too many years. His chest felt lighter.

When you and he reached your house, not too far from the arcade, you stopped and positioned yourself to face him, beautiful smile on your face that softened the longer he looked at you. He didn't want tonight to end. Wished it could go on through tomorrow and the next day and the one after that.

"That was a lot of fun, Wally," You murmured as you stepped closer, bottom lip caught between your teeth in a way that made his heartrate spike and his head foggy.

He nodded, "Yeah," and lifted a hand to trail his fingertips along the slope of your jaw, "I wanna do it again, like, now."

You chuckled, and when did your lips get so close to his? "You just wanna try and beat my Donkey Kong score." You accused, breath hitching when the tip of his nose grazed your cheek.

Wally couldn't refute that, but didn't want to, his mind already on other things. Better things. Things like—his lips brushed yours, soft and gentle at first, testing the waters, and when you gasped so prettily, he pressed in. Kissed you slow, his hand climbing to rest on the back of your head to angle you just right. The kiss let in and took out, over and over, until Wally was breathless and dizzy.

He kept you there, one hand trailing down your side to your hip, the other tangling in your hair, for what felt like hours though it must've only been several minutes. He couldn't let go. Couldn't stop. The taste of your tongue against his the most incredible thing he'd ever experienced.

But, eventually, you had to pull away, "It's late."

He kissed you one more time for the road, watched you stealthily maneuver around the side of the house and disappear around the corner, probably to sneak back into your room before anyone realized you'd been gone. Something about the fact that you'd risked getting in trouble for thrilled Wally.

Once you were out of sight, Wally turned in the direction of home, an obvious bounce in his step as he replayed the night—the kiss, how your lips had yielded under his—on a loop.

Again, it wasn't until much later that he remembered he still hadn't asked for your name.

Fuck.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In typical 1980s fashion, this movie had a montage that Wally revisited almost obsessively. Sure, things had progressed rather quickly between you and him; one minute you were the stranger he viciously—but not on purpose!—attacked with a ball, and the next you were every thought, desire, emotion, response Wally was capable of.

After sundown, like hoodlums, he took you to the roller rink and skated on legs made of Jell-O because you insisted you needed his limbs to support your stilted efforts. Except, as soon as a single-digit child cried his frustration, there you were, a professional ballerina on wheels, teaching the child how to balance and move. You weren't even sheepish when you fessed up to the ruse.

"I like how it feels," You said simply, shrugged, and tucked yourself into Wally's side to prove the point, "You feel safe."

Yeah, Wally couldn't argue to save his life, addicted to how you felt in his arms as much as you seemed drawn to be there. You and he danced under the colored lights, spun and chased and discoed like divas, deliberately falling into each other at every chance. Wally didn't complain when you brought him to the ground with you after a miscalculated dip.

Days later, you and he jumped and screamed along to live music (the lyrics all totally wrong, but the melody right), crashing bodies pressing you together. Halfway through the concert, the surrounding mania receded as he rocked you gently, kissed you with meaning in the eye of a mosh pit; squawked when you poked his side to tickle him and then booked it through the crowd for an impromptu, wild game of hide-n-seek.

An empty movie theater for a screening of last year's horror films. Popcorn missiles thrown when he dared suggest the Halloween was better than My Bloody Valentine. Finger to his lips, his hand firm around yours, crouched as he led you into another theater after the first movie. Four altogether, most of them ignored in favor of making out in the back row until an usher kicked you and Wally out for inappropriate behavior.

Heads close, toes pointed toward opposite walls, listening to Nebraska in a patch of moonlight on Wally's bedroom floor after a grueling week of exams and Wally's mama nagging him to get fitted for new skates before hockey season. He turned his head, admired your profile, lashes fanned on the arches of peach-blushed cheeks. His heart fluttered and his eyes softened as he watched you doze to the music. Between Used Cars and Open All Night, Wally propped himself on an elbow and kissed you upside-down. Chuckled when you nipped his chin and retaliated by adjusting his position, pinning you beneath his body, and kissing you senseless.

Throughout it all, you never missed a game, football or hockey or lacrosse. You'd put an end to the scavenger hunt, now a pillar of motivation—front row, center—and waved that glittery poster with an enthusiasm that outshone his mama's. The new arrangement made it easier for Wally, sweaty and hot, to leap over the barrier and lift and twirl you after each victory. Or, alternatively, for you to hurdle into his arms to comfort and reassure him after each loss.

Over the summer, Wally reminisced fondly on his junior year and everything you and he had done together. He missed you, a deep ache in his heart while your family apparently traveled for the months between school years. You wrote letters and used payphones to speak to him every Wednesday and Saturday, and it helped sustain him until you returned, but, God, he couldn't wait to see you again. To have you cuddled against him on the couch or in his lap on the bleachers at lunch or under him in his bed.

He craved you like a bad habit. Your scent, your touch, your taste. The soft affection you and he traded; lips stamped to the shoulder, fingers carding through each other's hair. How Wally held you, arm banded around your chest, hand under your chin to angle your face up so he could kiss you from behind.

Soon, he reminded himself. Three more days and he'd have his girl at his side again.

His girl whose name continued to elude him.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

The night of the '83 Homecoming game, Wally felt a dread unlike he'd ever felt before. A lump of lead in his stomach. He had you in his lap, light, gentle brushes of his lips memorized the shape of your neck and jaw, his arms tight around you, as you helped distract him from his uncharacteristic pre-game nerves.

"I'll be right there, Wally Clark," You promised with a sweet smile.

And you were. In the seat beside his mama when the crack of bone echoed across the stadium like thunder.

He spent the following weeks oscillating between grief and rage, too consumed by the confusion and fear and loss of his own death find the strength to seek you out. He didn't want to know how you handled it. Him. His no-longer-thereness. If you were as deeply sad as he was or if you could move on and make it through. Wally didn't think he could handle it if he saw you smile again despite him not being the one to coax that happiness out of you.

Eventually, though, he couldn't deny it anymore. Had to see you. That magnetic pull led him to find you outside, basking in the December sun, no jacket, laying across the middle bench on the bleachers that overlooked the field behind the school.

He climbed up and took a quiet seat beside you. You didn't look any different. Serene, in fact, as you lay there, your notebook rested on the bench above. Wally sighed heavily, traced the air around your cheek as breath choked and his heart shattered. He had so much he wanted to say to you, but didn't know where to begin—I miss you, I wish I didn't die, I need to hold you again. Sentiments that didn't make a difference anymore. He gazed at your notebook and wondered if you'd written anything about him.

And then, to his surprise:

"I was wondering how long it would take before you'd come find me."

His eyes whipped to you and he saw you staring up at him, neck craned back slightly and a warm grin on your face.

"Y-you can see me!?" Wally gaped as you sat up and scooched closer to him.

"Of course I can." You said so easily that Wally had to think for a second if he was supposed to understand how it was possible. No one else had been able to see him, hear him, feel him.

"...how?"

You giggled, the sound a boon to his despairing soul, "Being dead isn't so bad, you know. I mean, it sucks, but you get used to it pretty quick." Taking his hand in yours, fingers laced, "And, when the memory of you starts to fade, you can even leave the school, which is something to look forward to."

Wally stared at you, bewildered, lost, hopeful, elated, "You're dead?" One, two beats, "You were dead the whole time?"

You smiled and nodded, leaned away from him to hold out your other hand for him to shake. That's when he heard it for the first time, your name, the syllables like angelic melody to his ears. You added, "Class of '57. Nice to meet you."

"But...I walked you home. I saw your house."

"You saw a house." You corrected.

You were dead. You were like Wally. You were with Wally.

Without hesitation, Wally scooped you into his arms and kissed you like he'd wanted to since he'd risen from his body. He soaked up all the comfort and reassurance and love you offered with your lips. The idea of eternity no longer seemed so permanent and awful with you in it.

You pulled away just enough to bump the tip of your nose against his, that smile he adored melting every worry and fear that'd followed him off the field.

"So, how do you wanna spend your afterlife, Wally Clark? We could play dodgeball now that you know you can't actually hurt me."

He felt a grin form, wide and joyful, and answered, "Whatever you want." After a soft lull that Wally used to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek, "I just wanna spend it with you." His girl, whose name he would treasure forever in his heart.

fin.

🏈___________________________

also on AO3!

𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

the barn creaked around you, the night still and heavy with unspoken tension. clark’s chest heaved as he stood before you, his eyes aflame—not with his power, not yet, but with the kind of yearning that bordered on painful. his hands were warm on your hips, fingers flexing as if testing his own strength, afraid he might break you, though the idea seemed to excite him just as much.

“i can’t believe this is happening,” he murmured, his voice low, his breath brushing your cheek as he leaned in closer. his lips hovered over yours, hesitant, trembling, until you finally bridged the gap. the kiss was electric, his softness giving way to something raw as he surrendered to it, the barn’s dim light wrapping around you both like a cocoon.

your hands moved instinctively, sliding up his broad chest, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. he shivered under your touch, a deep groan escaping him as your fingers brushed his collarbone. but it was when you trailed your hand down, over his taut stomach, and cupped him through his jeans, that he stilled entirely, his breath catching in a strangled gasp.

“is this okay?” you whispered, your voice soft but teasing. his pupils dilated, swallowing the oceanic blue of his eyes, and his answer came not in words but in the way his hips pressed forward into your hand, seeking more.

“y-you’re perfect,” he stuttered, his voice rough, needy. you smiled and leaned in, kissing him again as you unbuttoned his jeans, your fingers slipping inside to find the hard, pulsing length of him. he groaned loudly, his hands gripping your waist harder, his body trembling like a live wire under your touch.

“clark,” you murmured against his lips, your voice dripping with amusement. “you’re shaking.”

“i—” he tried to speak, but his words were lost to another sharp intake of breath as your fingers wrapped around him, stroking him slowly, testing his reaction. his head tipped back, the muscles in his neck straining as a guttural moan escaped his throat. “oh god… oh god…”

and then it happened.

a flicker of crimson danced across the room, the hay bale nearest you smoking as a stray beam of heat shot from his eyes, searing through the wood. clark froze, his entire body rigid, his breathing erratic as his glowing eyes snapped to yours, terror and shame painting his expression.

“i—” he began, but you cut him off with a soft laugh, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.

“it’s okay,” you soothed, your hand not faltering, your strokes deliberate, coaxing. “i trust you. besides, it’s kind of hot.” you grinned up at him, and his face softened, the fear giving way to something darker, more primal.

“kind of hot?” he repeated, his voice gravelly as his gaze darkened, the ember in his eyes simmering as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a ferocious kiss. his hands moved with more confidence now, gripping your hips and pulling you flush against him, his cock twitching under your touch as you stroked him faster, firmer.

the barn filled with his groans, low and guttural, mingling with the sound of your breathing and the creak of the old wood under your shifting weight. he was coming undone beneath your hands, his composure unraveling with every stroke, every kiss, every whispered tease.

“god, you feel… i can’t—” his words dissolved into a strangled cry as your hand twisted at the tip, your thumb brushing over the slick bead of precum. another beam of heat flashed from his eyes, charring a beam above, but neither of you cared now. you were lost in each other, in the heat, the danger, the overwhelming pull of him.