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#thank you in advance for any advice 🥺

thefrogdalorian · 4 months

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Do any other writers ever get a bit down when you realise you're constantly writing the kind of relationship you desperately want but will probably never have?

Writing has helped my mental health a lot, it helps me to write down emotions when I struggle to place them in real life. But sometimes it also just makes me sad to write about something I desperately want but feel I will never have, so I just wondered if anyone else goes through this.

More under the cut, just going to rant about mental health and navigating the dating scene as an autistic person.

Like I'm sure a lot of us here on the hellsite, I spent my teenage years socially isolated and struggling because I didn't fit in with others, without realising why I felt so different. I just knew that I experienced attraction differently than my peers. Now I know that I'm autistic and queer, but back then I had no idea. At that's at least answered for me. But I'll never get that time back.

If I had known just how different I was earlier in my life, I think I could've navigated the age at which a lot of people are having these experiences more successfully. I did have some fun myself too. But most of the time, such encounters were stressful and overwhelming when they really should have been fun and exciting.

I honestly don't see myself ever getting into a relationship. I think I have a lot of great traits and strengths. I guess I'm probably not ugly. But I'm just not good at meeting new people. I have my friends and I like their company, why would I want to meet others? But how am I ever going to find love if I don't? Plus, dating apps terrify me and if I were to ever make it far enough to meet in real life, I feel like I don't know how to go on dates. Most people don't even want dates, either. It's all just casual which does not interest me.

I have a lot of amazing friends, I spread a lot of the love I have inside of me to them and I think platonic love can be just as fulfilling as romantic love. But it does kind of make me sad to think the closest I'll probably ever get to a real, loving relationship is by writing about fictional characters. Honestly just writing this out and I'm like wow... my life is pretty tragic.

I mean, I'd love to be wrong. But based on the way society has shown time and again it mistreats people like me, I've pretty much given up on love in my mid twenties. Except in my fanfics.

And that makes me sad, I can't lie.

#writing #a little oversharing on the internet as a treat #i'm probably going to delete this in the morning but i jsut got a rush of sadness about this and i can't sleep #so i wondered if it's common #i haven't been writing properly again for too long so maybe this is a normal Emotion and some of u have pointers lol #thank you in advance for any advice 🥺#just autism things

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yesmissnyx · 9 months

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💞 ℙ 𝕀 ℕ ℕ 𝔼 𝔻 💞

She/they 🖤 Bisexual 🖤 30s 🖤 Soft Domme

💞 NSFW Concepts + Audio 💞

🖤 KINKS: Femdom, Mommy Kink, Primal, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Petplay, Chastity, Feminization, Tease and Denial, Breeding Kink, Roleplay, +more

🖤 HARD NOs: Taking on a Submissive Role, ABDL, Ageplay, Incest, Scat, Inflation, Unsanitary Kinks, and Any real-life act that might cause lasting physical harm

.♡.♡.♡.♡.

Hey 💕 I'm Nyx.

If you'd like, you can call me Miss, Mommy/Daddy, Mistress/Sir or Goddess. (Or just Nyx!) I'm a bisexual NB Domme in my 30s and I love kink as both an expression of sexuality and as a focus of interest and study. Currently, I'm dipping my toes into femdom content creation and working on becoming a kink-centered lifecoach. Basically, I love being slutty AND giving advice ;)

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🖤 DM RULES: MDNI. I will not respond to messages from accounts with no age listed. Flirting is fine, but please note that I am not currently taking on new play partners/submissives!

I'm sure you're very attractive, but please don't send nudes and lewds without asking. Thank you in advance for respecting this 🙏💕

If you want to book a sexting session or listen to my premium audio, go check out my fansites!

You can also buy my premium audio on Gumroad.

(LF subscribers get dirty DMs for free 😘💞)

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Audio Tag 🗡 Original Concepts/Flashfiction 🗡Selfie Tag

Like what I do? Consider leaving me a Tip or spoiling me with something on my Wishlist 🥺💓 Reblogs and nice comments are ALWAYS so, so, so appreciated!

Thank you all SO MUCH for your support!

#pinned #bd/sm mommy #bd/sm domme #fem domme #fdom #gentle fdom

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fawnduu · 5 months

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Do you have any advice or things you wish you had known before going full-time with your art/comics? I'm trying to do the same, but struggle to build an audience. 🥺

Thank you in advance, if you answer this!

Unfortunately there is no sure fire trick i know of for audience building. 'relatable' comics tend to get more eyes and traction but generally don't make you money. I also didn't start making comics thinking it would be my full-time job. I was working full time at a kid lit job that paid me 17 an hour and then I would come home and make comics for fun.

I genuinely just got really lucky that people found and liked my work and told me to post it on Webtoon. I think the most important thing is to just be working on something because you love it. Also your workload should always be something that you can do in your worst headspace. I make very little money from just posting 'My Dragon Gf' to webtoon and tapas. Almost all of my income comes from Patreon supporters, going and selling physical media at conventions, digital PDFs, Etc. Many hats are worn and I also am fully prepared to just start working a trade job or pick up part time work if I'm not making enough from those avenues. Whatever I need to do to be able to afford to keep making comics because I love it even if it's not my full time job.

#i wish i had more insight

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ofmermaidstories · 1 year

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Let me preface this by saying I did check your FAQ but I didn't see this there yet I still find it hard to believe no one has asked you this at least a thousand times so if they did and I just missed it I'm sorry and you can delete this ask but—

You write such beautiful, detailed fics with lots of foreshadowing that often starts from the very beginning of the story. I think you made an author note once about only posting the first chapter of a fic after you've written the whole thing (or maybe that was Andie...?). If so, is the time between updates just you going through and rereading / editing like 100k words?

Basically, I want to ask: what is your fic planning process like? From the moment you get a first idea to posting the last chapter, what does I look like? I think you're a really, really amazing (one of the absolute best if not THE best) author but I cannot fathom how one human being can write such mammoths of fanfiction and stay motivated enough to finish them.

Also you're already planning Halloween stuff ?? You plan things literally half a year in advance?? Are you even human? We don't deserve you. 😭

You called yourself lazy in the webcomic post but I think you must work unbelievably hard to make such high quality stuff and without even getting compensation for it. You're amazing and I'm very thankful to exist in the right timeline and fandom to read your work. :,)

(oh my god this became such a ramble I'm sorry)

Oh Ari. 🥺 Hello.

I update as I write! So that was probably Andie, lmao, who’s definitely the better example to follow when it comes to plotting/completing a fic. 🥺 She’s amazing and if I could fashion myself after any other writer in our niche, it would be Andie hands down!

But okay, let’s get into it. 📝

A little disclaimer, before we start; I did not go to school for any of this lmfao. The most relevant education I have behind me is a extra-circular literature class I had during my last two years of high-school. The only reason the following works for me is because I’ve cobbled it together from years of trial and error. You can read advice and watch youtube videos about the writing habits of famous authors, but you have to tailor everything you hear to suit you and the way you work. The best advice in the world from the highest paid author in the world won’t work if you’re not wired in the same way! You have to take everything about yourself and what you like and what you want into account!

Part I—first we take Manhattan

start ur fic lol

First thing’s first; I’m a plotter. I don’t pants. If I pants, I lose interest—I need to have the final vision in front of me, even if it’s just a bullet point. I have to know what I’m working towards. That is crucial to literally everything I do. Every fic you see on AO3, every WIP I’ve mentioned working on or wanting to work on—I have always known two things about them, immediately: the hook that gets us in there, and how they end.

So for fics in particular, the start might look something like—I get an idea (I want Reader and Bakugou to kiss). And then I sit there and I brainstorm to myself (What’s stopping them from kissing? Why does Reader want to kiss someone so rude when there’s so many other nice boys out there? Is Reader particularly kissable?). And then, if I’m lucky, I think of an ending (Reader and Bakugou finally kiss, but he’s the one that initiates it, because he’s always wanted to, because he likes that Reader always wears a yellow coat to work—it’s ugly and it sticks out among the black and tan ones of the crowd but he comes to associate it—and thus Reader—with routine and his mornings going well).

This is often the most fragile time of an idea. That hook (Reader and Bakugou kiss) might fall apart with a bit more prodding (why would they kiss? Reader’s a stranger to him; most of us don’t go around kissing random strangers just because we like their coats). Or maybe the hook sticks (they spend almost years in orbit around each other, a constant near-miss) but the ending doesn’t work (I don’t know how to move Bakugou to a position where he can kiss Reader, where he has the opportunity to). For every idea you see in action, or listed, there’s like three more that died during this stage and are now being cannibalised for spare parts.

Part II—running up that hill (a deal with fic)

work work work

If our idea survives, we then move to the “throw everything at the wall and see what sticks” stage; which manifests itself in this case as a doc, where I’ll just write any and all ideas I have for this little world so far.

For fanfics, it’ll generally look like—

TITLE

SUMMARY: Bakugou and Reader kiss.

(in which Bakugou first notices you because of your ugly yellow coat)

📝 Reader is allergic to diary products; for ages Bakugou thinks of her as That Cheesy Extra, because of the colour of her coat. She laughs when she eventually learns about this. (“I can’t even eat cheese,” you complain)

📝 Reader stops walking past the coffee shop Bakugou gets his coffee at, one day; moves??? Leaves the city to help a friend out for a few months. Despite himself it throws Bakugou off-kilter, and when he sees someone (not Reader) in a yellow coat during a villian attack, he momentarily loses focus—gets injured???? The news of his injury makes the news, Reader sees it in Bumblah nowhere.

📝 Her coat is donated accidentally by a roommate, in a mix up, for a charity she’s volunteering at; when Reader returns to the city, she has to make do with a new one, a more neutral colour. Bakugou recognises her anyway and that’s when he realises it was never about the coat (!!!!)

Like, this is actually a pretty good approximation of what all my current fics have looked like, at that stage, before I tidied them up and refined them into proper outlines. Because that’s what will happen next, once we have a rough idea of what we want! Things get moved, or removed—tightened. A rough plot outline takes shape! If I get any ideas for a sequel or a spin off that I might want to do, I’ll note them here (Reader’s roommate, Roomie, who’s working at a charity—eventually meets Shinsou, who’s working on a case. She thinks he’s homeless; he doesn’t realise. They carry on like this for a while.)

Once I have a rough outline (rough meaning in bulletpoints), I’ll start on my more in-depth outlines—I do these chapter by chapter! I say this a lot, but they’re basically a really rough version of said chapter. So it might look like:

Reader’s walking to work; it’s cold enough that’s she’s wearing her coat. There’s a new coffee-shop opened on the corner—it’s full, popular, you think it might be because it’s at a crossroads between two different Pro Hero agencies. Reader glances at the window, interested, but then a friend calls out and you hurry along. Bakugou, inside the coffee-shop waiting for Half and Half to get his order, is affronted; your coat is ugly as shit, and he complains loudly about it to Shouto, who mentions something about Baku. having no room to complain about ugly colour choices.

The swap between Reader/You happens a lot because I’m not using my brain properly, at this stage—I’m just shovelling the sand I need into the sandbox. Once I finish my shovelling, I go back and I rewrite it—but better, LMAO. I flesh things out, I throw things away as needed, I add things in. It’s basically really, really intensive handholding and I would not recommend it for anyone who’s already daunted by the idea of plotting; I do it because if I don’t have a chaperone there (aka my outline) then I’m prone to getting distracted. I am basically the fanfic equivalent of the undiagnosed ADHD kid at the back of the class that only gets work done when they’re sat right in front of the teacher (and even then, there’s like a 50% chance it’s not actually work that’s happening but doodles of that weird pointy S thing over and over again).

Once it’s done, though, we have a completed chapter! I then post it and wait like a little crab under some rocks for people to be tricked into being nice to me, and then I dig back in and think nice thoughts about repeating this process to get chapter two. Eventually I will—and viola! Another chapter! We repeat that over and over until we get to the end of our original outline and we have a finished story. 😌📖

Part III—you’re on your own kid

motivation

No one ever likes this part, or what I’m about to say, because at best it sounds like saccharine fodder and at worse it’s out of touch with most people’s experiences in fandom, but—the only way to stay motivated when doing a long-haul fic is that you have to do it for yourself.

People are so kind to me, about the fics I’ve done; it’s part luck and part what I choose to write and part how I write it. And I mean—I share them because I want a little bit of attention, lmao, that’s natural because we’re humans, we all want attention. But here’s the thing, here’s the secret—I take these fics 110% deadly seriously. LOL. That sounds like a joke, but I do! I do that because it’s how I’m built and how I keep myself interested in them—because taking them seriously means I’m more invested in realising the ending I’ve imagined for them since day one.

If other people stopped being so nice about what I was writing, I would be sad—anyone would. 🥺 We all want to be told that we’ve done a good job. But I’ve had the ending for the Deku fic, for example, in my head since it’s predecessor was on-going. That is literal years of knowing how I want Izuku and Scribble’s story to end. If everyone disappeared tonight I would sulk, hardcore, and then I would finish that last chapter anyway. I would finish it because I’ve spent so much time and energy working on that story that not finishing it is a disservice to the world I built around those characters and most importantly to myself. I probably wouldn’t stress as much about it, LOL, if the audience shrunk back down to just me, but I’d still do it. 🥺

I write—and try to finish—these fics because I deserve to see them finished. I want the completed tick, on ao3. I want to look at it and know that I can do it—that I can start something as simple as Bakugou hating on some rando’s yellow coat, and bring it to the finish-line where they finally come together, and see each other, without the yellow coat or through a coffee-shop window.

And this is what I mean by like, tailoring things to suit you—because I know others might be perfectly content to imagine the ending for themselves, without writing it. Or maybe they don’t want to treat fic seriously, because it’s fun escapism. Maybe disappointment that it’s not received like they thought it would be sours the whole experience of fandom for someone—there’s no right or wrong to this. I know I can write for an audience of just me because I’ve done it before. The satisfaction has always come back to the same thing—knowing I finished it, and wrapped that world up as best as I could. You have to pick and choose your poison—and then you have to run with it.

I hope that answers at least some of your questions, Ari. 🥺 Thank-you for such a thoughtful ask; for being so sweet. 🥺 You’re amazing, and I’m the thankful one—I’m glad we’re here, together. 🌷🌾✨📖

#ofmermaidstories-asks #ari do i have a tag for you? 🧐 hmMMMm #anyways i hope you have a good week and that this was at least a tiny bit helpful lmao #i should link it…. ugh i should overdo my whole masterpost tbh 😩 this is where the lazy comes in bc id rather stare at my wall tbh LMAO #first we take manhattan—then we take berlin 🎵#writing stuff

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she-is-juniper · 2 years

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Put It Into Practice — Steve Harrington x Reader (chapter four)

Pairing: Scoops Ahoy era Steve Harrington x f!Reader (she/her/hers pronouns, AFAB)

Rating (by chapter): M (Mature)

Summary: “King Steve” Harrington had been the subject of swooning for every girl in their right mind back in high school. But when his sexual dexterity comes into question the summer after graduation, Steve is not about to let his reputation become marred quite so easily. Luckily, Steve is offered the help of his new friend—to give him advice, a few pointers, and maybe a bit of healthy practice…

Word Count (by chapter): 9K

Content: sooo much fluff, very dialogue-heavy chapter (you’re going to love Steve even more than you already have), some angst, some cursing, Steve and Reader finally hash everything out lmfao

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is not intended to be taken as truth or fact. I do not claim to own Stranger Things or any other affiliated names or fictional events. Other details, such as names, locations, and events, are also fictionalized.

A/N: Hi friends! I'm so excited for you to read PIIP chapter four! I’ve literally never struggled so hard to finish a chapter ever... It wasn’t even necessarily hard to write; I’ve just been beyond wiped out from my new job. I’m on my feet 6-7 hours straight during the day (and getting BANK for it) but it’s been simply exhausting. I find that I have absolutely no mental or physical energy left when I get home to write with the same intensity as I had earlier this summer. So I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry to everyone that I haven’t been churning out as much content in recent weeks 🥺 I still absolutely love writing and I’m excited to continue doing it! But I really really appreciate your patience with how slow/inactive I’ve been ♡ This chapter is verrrrry fluffy and dialogue heavy. It's becoming a bit of a slow burn which I know we all will love 👀 and I pinky promise there's smut in the next chapter!

And as always, PLEASE comment if you enjoyed this, for the love of all that is holy—your powers supercharge me!!—thank u in advance ♥ Love, Juni

chapter one \ chapter two \ chapter three

NEXT CHAPTER TBA (or check my masterlist)

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

“Hi, sweetie, how was the fair?”

You glance up at your mother as you close the front door behind you and kick off your shoes. She’s in the living room with a novel in hand, from which she’s hardly looking up to even acknowledge your arrival. In the reclining chair, your father is asleep, and his snores are drowned out only by the background noise of the television.

How was the fair? you think to yourself. Which part? The part where Steve Harrington and I got each other off in the Hall of Mirrors? Or the part where we made plans to sneak out tonight to see each other again?

“It was fun, Mom,” you say instead, as simply and calmly as possible. Inside your chest, your heart races with anticipation. You mentally go through a checklist. Tell her goodnight. Take shower. Pretend to sleep. Sneak out window.

“That’s wonderful,” she says absently as she turns the page of her novel.

“I’m going to shower and head to bed, I’m super tired,” you lie as you walk to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water to bring upstairs. It was part of your nightly routine, and you didn’t want her to be suspicious at all. Not that you had any reason to worry. Your mother, as expected, seems completely unsuspecting of your clandestine evening plans.

You go to her, kiss her on the cheek, and say, “Night, Mom.”

“Goodnight, Y/N, sweetie,” she says back. As you head up the stairs to your bedroom, you hear her turn off the TV and shake your father awake, telling him it’s time to go to bed.

That’s one of the perks of being the normal, trustworthy teenager of two overworked parents. When you really wanted to break the rules, they wouldn’t even bat an eye.

You’d always been a good kid, but that’s not to say you havent been involved in your fair share of teenage mischief. You’d simply gotten highly skilled at evading the less-than-watchful eyes of your workaholic parents. It had been all the usual, harmless milestones of teenagehood; underage drinking, going to parties, hooking up in cars. Nothing really out of the ordinary or truly egregious. For a while, the craziest thing you had ever done was sneak onto the roof of the high school gymnasium at midnight to smoke weed with Carol and her rowdy friends during your sophomore year.

Now, a new deed takes the cake; hooking up with Steve Harrington in the Hall of Mirrors at the Fourth of July fair.

It had been reckless, certainly. And illegal. But the thrill of getting caught, combined with the added tension between you and Steve from your prior argument, had made it all the more exciting.

You and Steve are now more than just friends.

You could have stayed in that Hall of Mirrors with Steve forever, just holding him and kissing him among the endless reflections, blissfully poking fun at each other for the mess you’d made in between your thighs and on his hands. But the sound of the security guards nearby had spooked you, and you and Steve hastily exited the attraction and booked it to the parking lot, giggling even more uncontrollably as you ran.

Neither of you had wanted to go home. But while Steve’s parents couldn’t have cared less about what their son was up to, you knew you had to at least make an appearance at home so your parents wouldn’t worry. And that was where the plan was hatched; you would tell them goodnight, convince them you were going to bed, and then sneak out your bedroom window. Admittedly, you’ve never snuck out of the house before, but there was a first time for everything.

You make haste in showering and shaving, keeping a close eye on the clock; Steve had promised to pick you up at 10:30. Every time you think of him, your heart gives a little flip. His doe brown eyes, his playful smile, his stupidly perfect hair. Now that your feelings for each other are more or less out in the open air, you’re bristling with new and exciting feelings for him.

Before going to your room, you wrap a towel around your chest and pad downstairs to check on your parents again. Their bedroom door is closed with the lights off, and your father’s snoring continues. Perfect . You tiptoe back up to your room and scour your closet; what is one supposed to wear when sneaking out of the house to meet up with her no-longer-just-friends friend? You consider another sundress, but you settle on a pair of jeans, a tee shirt with the logo of your favorite band, and your trusty white sneakers—the ones you remember Steve complimented once, a few months ago. Back when you had been just friends.

What are you now? Will he want to talk about it tonight? Or will tonight just be for… well …?

You don’t know what to expect from Steve tonight. He had been hesitant yet enthusiastic to help you sneak out of the house— “You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to, but fuck, Y/N, I’d love to see you later,” he’d said. And of course, how could you have said no?

And for you, you’re eager to continue where you’d left off from your earlier escapades in the Hall of Mirrors… but you’re also itching to talk about what’s going on between the two of you.

It’s nearly 10:30. You stuff a few pillows haphazardly under your comforter in the shape of a sleeping body, on the off-chance that one of your parents would check on you during the night. You turn off your lamp, and with a breath of courage, you heave open your bedroom window and creep onto the roof over the back porch. The summer night’s air had become slightly brisk, rife with adventure and youth and the residual smell of gunpowder from the fireworks at the fair. You carefully meander down the lattice wall above the garden and land with a gentle thud. Smiling to yourself, you make your way out the side gate, squinting down the quiet, suburban Hawkins street.

Right on time, a car pulls around the bend, flooding the street with its headlights. Steve’s BMW. You smile a bit nervously and saunter over to it.

As you approach, Steve steps out and leans on the driver’s side door, looking you over with excitement. And then, as if he’s come to some realization about your approach, he rushes over to the passenger door and opens it grandly. “Your chariot awaits,” he says with mock formality.

“Ah, so now it’s your ‘chariot’?” you call out. “Robin told me you always call it it your ‘Babe Mobile.’”

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Steve jests back, rubbing the burgundy exterior. “She’s a she, not an it. She’s sensitive. And besides, is Robin wrong? I mean, you’re a girl, and you’re about to get in the car, sooo…I’d say the Babe Mobile’s living up to her title.”

You laugh. Steve’s smile grows with yours. Witty banter, just like old times, back to normal. It’s as if the whole argument from earlier never happened.

“You’re such an idiot,” you giggle as you hop into his car. You’ve ridden in it a few times before, mostly during hangs with Robin to and from work or each other’s houses. You could never forget the first time you ever heard Steve’s god awful singing voice; it was at the beginning of the summer, and he had taken you and Robin out to pick up pizza and VHS movies after a long work week, and he had turned the radio on and started belting along with Don’t Stop Believin’ in a manner that more closely resembled a dying cow than a human voice. You remember the way you and Robin had groaned and laughed at him before joining in with your own voices. It was one of those summer memories that would last forever.

And looking over at him now, as he hops into the driver’s seat and gives you an easy smile, you wonder if this will be one of those forever summer memories, too.

“So you managed to sneak out without them noticing?” Steve asks as he shifts the car into drive and accelerates down the empty street.

You nod. “Not that they care enough about me to notice, anyway,” you replied lightly.

But Steve’s brow furrows a bit. “Oh, come on, I know your parents care about you.”

Knowing Steve’s rocky relationship with his parents, you realize you probably shouldn’t have exaggerated like that. “They do,” you amend, “but they’ve both been so busy lately that I’m probably the last thing on their mind. All that to say, we’re in the clear tonight.”

“Good,” he smiles as he drives. You notice he’d showered too, his hair still slightly wet, no longer perfectly styled in his usual way, although you decided you almost preferred seeing it damp and slicked back so casually like this. And he’d changed clothes from the attire he’d been wearing at the park. He’s wearing a new pair of jeans and a yellow crewneck sweatshirt that fits his torso perfectly. He smells like soap and linen and spice.

The radio’s on, softly playing Drive by The Cars—what a perfect song for this moment—and Steve’s got the windows rolled down so the summer breeze ripples through the car, bringing a slight chill to your arms.

“Where are we going?” you ask, realizing then that you hadn’t discussed a plan for where or what, just when he’d pick you up.

“You’ll see. I’ve got something fun we can do together.”

“Oh?” you ask with a suggestive tone.

Steve glances over at you and grins before drawing his eyes back to the road. And then he bites his bottom lip, and you can’t tell if it’s from excitement or nervousness. “Do you like surprises?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say apprehensively.

Steve chuckles at your tone. “Wow, what didn’t sound convincing at all.”

“I kind of hate surprises,” you admit.

“I figured,” he laughs. “Alright. Well, in that case, we’re going out into the woods. There’s this field I know—”

“The woods?” you interrupt him. “A field?”

“Don’t freak out,” he says. “I’m not going to, like, murder you or anything.”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief,” you say sarcastically.

“It’ll be fun. I’ve got a buddy who works at the fireworks tent off of Randolph,” Steve explains. He gestures to a medium sized box in the backseat. You twist around in your seat to peer inside; it contains about a dozen assorted fireworks.

“I guess it is still the Fourth of July,” you muse. Setting off fireworks with Steve in the middle of the woods did, actually, kind of sound like fun.

“We gotta be pretty smart about it, though,” Steve admits as he pulls onto Cornwalis—one of Hawkins’ main road—and starts driving north. “The cops in this town are like hawks about fireworks this year. But I know a place where we won’t get caught.”

Won’t get caught… You wonder if his words have a double meaning.

“Alright, alright,” you drawl, deflecting from the sudden wave of awkwardness that washes over you. ”But if we get mauled by a bear in the middle of the woods and there’s no one around to hear us scream, I’ll kick your ass in the afterlife.”

Steve laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll fight it off any bears for you.”

You give him a level look. “You? Fighting off bears?”

He gives you a face like it’s obvious. “Uh, yeah. Easy peasy.”

“Oh, really? With what weapon?”

“Well…I’ve got a baseball bat spiked with nails in my trunk, so I think I’d probably use that,” he says.

You stare blankly. It had obviously been a joke up until now, but this didn’t sound made up. He’d answered too quickly. “You have a baseball bat spiked with nails in your trunk?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“...You don’t wanna know.”

You let it go. “Alright, I guess that makes me feel a tad bit safer.”

“Good.” Steve’s hand that was resting on the gearshift inch has now inched across toward you. You notice now that his pinky is barely brushing against the denim on your thigh. You feel butterflies in your stomach. “You changed clothes,” he notes.

“I did.”

“Looks good,” he compliments.

You smile shyly, letting his compliment wash over your senses. “You changed, too,” you said. “I like it.”

He looked pretty good a few hours ago with his hair all messed up and his cum all over his hands, too, you think to yourself. But you suppose the yellow sweatshirt look would do, too.

“We were kind of a mess back there,” he says with a sheepish grin, almost as though he had read your mind.

“We were,” you agreed—both in the literal and the metaphorical sense. His acknowledgment of the incident brings back vivid memories of it. You crossed your legs and squeezed your thighs together absently.

There’s a lot more that you want to say, but you don’t really know how to say it or where to start, so you and Steve drive in a comfortable quietness down the road. Eventually, he passes all the establishments in the central part of town—the schools, the arcade, the library—and continues on into the woodsy north neighborhoods.

When I Wanna Know What Love Is by Foreigner comes on the radio, Steve shifts his hand from the gearshift so it’s next to yours on the passenger seat. You flip your palm over in a silent invitation, and he takes it in his own, squeezing his fingers. The action feels overwhelmingly intimate and romantic. You realize you’d be content just holding his hand like this forever. His touch brings you a strange feeling of reassurance, despite the uncertainty of your relationship thus far.

Hawkins looks strange tonight, the trees taking on a carefree sort of quality beyond Steve’s headlights. Maybe it’s the excitement from the earlier festivities still resonating through the town. Maybe it’s the thrill of sneaking out, despite the fact that you’re an adult and graduated from high school. Or maybe it’s just your imagination, overactive from the adrenaline of being with Steve again. You stick your other hand out the open passenger window and flatten your palm against the wind, riding the wind with your hand like a surfer on a wave, just like you used to as a kid.

“Hey, Y/N?” Steve asks after a while.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say… I’m, uh, I’m really sorry.”

You turn to observe his expression; his brows are furrowed as he glances between you and the road. “Why?”

“I’m just sorry for, uh, what happened back��there. I wish it hadn’t happened.”

Your heart thuds, and you fight to mask it. Did he mean the argument, or the hookup? When he hesitates to continue, you struggle to think of a response suitable for either meaning. “Things did get a bit, uh, heated, didn’t they…”

He squeezes your hand again. “I really shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he says. “Or said, like, half the things I said. I really wasn’t saying what I was meaning, like, at all.”

So he is talking about the argument. You squeeze his hand back before releasing it, and then you’re wringing your hands together in your lap. “You and me both, bud…but I’m sorry, too. I took things way out of proportion.”

“Well…” He combs his newly freed fingers through his hair. “I could see why you were mad at me.”

“I wasn’t mad at you—I’m not mad at all,” you reassure him. “It was just…the whole situation.”

The whole Steve-going-down-on-you-but-then-weirding-out-when-you-offer-him-a-blowjob situation. And the Steve-kissing-you-in-the-hallway-and-then-completely-avoiding-you thing. And then the Steve-never-got-over-Nancy-Wheeler bombshell that Robin had dropped. And then there was the whole Lisa-R-coming-onto-Steve-in-front-of-you ordeal.

Jesus, no wonder you had snapped back there.

“A lot had happened,” you continue, “and I was just…overwhelmed, I think. But I’m not mad at you, Steve.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay,” he says with relief.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask in turn.

“No, not at all.”

“Okay.”

There’s a lot more you want to say but you can’t find the words to express your thoughts. Looking over at Steve, you imagine he’s feeling the same way. It means a lot to you that he apologized about the argument, but the whole thing still doesn’t sit right with you. You know a solid, honest conversation is in order for tonight…but it might take a few fireworks before either of you will be able to find the right words.

“I’m in the mood to light some shit on fire,” you say, segueing into a lighter topic.

“Oh, yeah, well, you know what they say,” Steve remarks. “When the goings get tough, the tough…light shit on fire.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely the saying,” you say sarcastically.

“I think we should get that printed on a shirt and everything.”

“ You’d definitely wear that shirt,” you jest.

“Oh, absolutely,” he says. “Unironically. That’d be a dope ass shirt.”

“Yeah, maybe for pyromaniacs.”

“Hey, you’re the one that said you’re in the mood to light shit on fire. So you started it.”

“It was your idea to bring fireworks in the first place, dingus.”

“Don’t call me that,” he groans. “I already hear ‘dingus’ enough from Robin. She’s rubbing off on you too much.”

“What else am I supposed to call you when you’re being a dingus, then?”

“Uh…how about, just ‘Steve’?”

“Okay, Just Steve, but I think we’re gonna need to get you a better nickname.”

“Oh, yeah?” he says with a mocking tone.

You pretend to ponder. “Hmmm…maybe doofus?”

“That’s literally the same thing as dingus,” he complains.

“No, it’s different.” You gaze at him with mock seriousness. “Doofus. Yeah. That works perfect.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling under his guise of annoyance. “You women and your nicknames.”

“Well, I can’t always call you baby, I gotta have some variety,” you giggle.

You’re referring, obviously, to the way you and Steve had called each other baby —at first, in your basement last week, and then most recently in the Hall of Mirrors. In both instances, the term of endearment had kind of just…slipped out. But it felt right, in those moments. But baby was just one of those nicknames reserved for cringey couples in love. And, on occasion, for the casual hookup. But only in that context and never outside the bedroom.

Or basement. Or Hall of Mirrors. Whatever.

Point is, you’re wondering when you and Steve would call each other baby again. And under which context…cringey couple, or casual hookup?

Right on cue, Steve’s expression changes, and he admits quietly, “I like it when you call me that.”

“Really? You do?”

“Yeah. Don’t get all weird about it, though” he says defensively. The pout on his face is so irresistible.

“Don’t worry, I won’t, baby,” you tease. He groans. You laugh at him. “Sorry, sorry.”

“No, I like it… Maybe a little too much.”

You can’t fathom the meaning of his words, but he doesn’t elaborate. You deflect the awkwardness again, shifting back to your teasing tone of voice. “I’ll use it sparingly, I promise. But doofus?” You shove his arm playfully. “I’ll be using that one a lot.”

“I really thought you were more original than that,” he taunts. “I mean, c’mon, stealing Robin’s M.O.? What a copout.”

“I’m sure Robin would be honored.”

Your conversation is halted by a police cruiser driving past in the other lane. Steve straightens behind the wheel, although the cruiser passes without a hitch. You snicker at him.

“Right here, he’s right here, cops!” you jeer. “The pyromaniac with the high-maintenance hair!”

He runs his hand through it self-consciously. “You love the hair,” he says conclusively.

You couldn’t lie. “Yeah, I do,” you sigh, taking a chance and running your own hand through it. His face softens and he leans into your touch. It’s becoming far too addicting to touch him. “Why do you think the police will care about us setting off fireworks, anyway? They set off a bunch at the fair.”

“Noise ordinance, I think,” he responds. “You know how the cops in this town are. They got nothing better to do. They’ll impose any rule to keep the ‘meddling kids’ off the streets,” he adds with air quotes.

“Well, if we’re gonna have to drive out the middle of nowhere, where no one can hear…I guess we’ll should just make the most of it, then, yeah?”

You didn’t intend to sound suggestive, but as the double meaning of your words settles between you, Steve fights a grin. You can’t help but smile, too, knowing full well that you and he are thinking of the same thing.

Steve pulls off the main road and onto a short residential street that ends in a col-de-sac, beyond which extends a dense-looking patch of woods. He parks along the curb at the end of the street and moves to get out until he sees that you’re frozen in your seat.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Are we…hiking?”

“Just for a bit.”

“We’re hiking…through the woods…in the pitch black…at 10 pm…?”

“Don’t worry, I came prepared,” he grins, pulling out a flashlight and clicking it on. Even then, you still feel apprehensive. Steve touches your hand softly. “It’s not very far, I promise.”

“What is ‘it’, exactly?” you ask as you hesitantly exit the car. And then it hits you. “Oh my god,” you realize. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking me to Skull Rock.”

Skull Rock is this infamous makeout spot in the woods. In fact, rumor has it that Steve practically invented it. Gross. The idea that he would take you where he’d taken countless other girls makes you scowl at him.

But Steve just laughs. “No, no, we’re not going to Skull Rock. That’s in the other direction.”

“Wouldn’t you know,” you mutter.

He just gazes at you endearingly like he finds your anger adorable. “C’mon, trust me. There’s a huge clearing, just north of Lover’s Lake. It’s just a few minutes walk from here. Just follow me, okay? It’s really cool. You’ll see.”

He gives you a warm smile before locking the car. As soon as the car’s headlights go off, the scene around you and Steve becomes engulfed in darkness, save for the dim yellow streetlamp and the moon on the horizon. Steve hands you the flashlight since he’s holding the box of fireworks. You try to keep it steady as he leads the way into the woods, where the cacophony of summer insects and birds swells like a nocturnal symphony.

After a few moments—and at the sudden hoot of an owl that makes you jump—you finally say, “Steve, not to be dramatic, but who do you think will be speaking at our funerals when we inevitably die tonight from an angry bear?”

“We’re not going to die,” he reassures you with a laugh. “But…I guess if we did, Robin would probably do a pretty decent job at a commemorative speech. And Dustin. Probably your parents—”

“I didn’t need to hear that,” you groan, tightening your grip on the flashlight.

“You asked!”

“I’m just saying, it’s not too late for us to turn around and grab that spiked baseball bat you were talking about.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “If anything comes for us, I’ll just show them my super slick ninja moves, and they’ll get scared and run away.” He attempts a really bad roundhouse kick on a nearby tree, muttering, “Ow.”

“Loser.”

“Hey, there’s a new nickname.” He straightens and adjusts his grip on the box. “Wasn’t that hard being creative with it, huh?”

You know he’s trying to soothe your nerves about being in the forest at night, and it’s working, but only a little bit. “This better be worth it,” you mumble.

“You know me, would I ever take you somewhere that’s not guaranteed to be super cool?”

“There was that one time you made me and Robin meet you behind the mall to look at a satellite in the sky because you thought it was a UFO.”

“It was totally a UFO!” he retorts.

“Satellite.”

“...Fine, whatever, but what if it was a real UFO, and you and Robin missed out on it? Then you would have really been pissed off at yourselves.”

“Ooh, yeah, and maybe then the aliens would have abducted you and we would never have to hear you mope about working at Scoops Ahoy ever again.”

“Oh, come on, if I got abducted by aliens, you’d miss me and you know it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too hard, Harrington.”

“Just stating the facts.”

At last, you can see a break in the trees ahead. Once you and Steve emerge, you realize you’ve reached the town’s power lines, a series of tall metal poles connected by soaring wires. The trees have been cut back width-wise from the power lines, leaving a huge clearing in the woods as far as the eyes can see in either direction. Above the huge poles, the moon is bright and almost full, washing everything below it in a pale blue light.

“This way,” Steve says as he leads you under the lines and across the clearing. You keep right behind him for another few minutes as he follows the path of the power lines. After a few minutes, you see a large divet of clearing out to the right, where the trees have been cut back even further. As you near, you realize it’s a wide field, perhaps an old patch of farmland, beyond the horizon of electrical wiring. The field is about a football field across in length and width, with no poles or trees to obstruct it. Peculiarly, at the other end of the field is an old flatbed truck.

“Wow,” you note, looking around with your flashlight. “How did you know this field was here?”

“Tommy and I found it a few summers ago,” Steve replies. “We used to skip school and come out here to smoke, drink, hit golf balls in the woods, do stupid shit like that.” He leads you across the field to the old pickup truck.

“Do I even want to know how this got here?” you laughed.

“It’s Tommy’s uncle’s,” he explains, slapping the roof of the truck with a metallic thud. “Basically just scrap metal at this point. It doesn’t run anymore. But” —he grins at you as he sets his box on the truck’s bed— “This is where we’ll sit to watch the show. Best seat in the house.”

You try once and fail to hoist yourself up onto the open truck bed, which just gives Steve an excuse to help you up onto it with his hands on your waist. His close proximity means that you can smell the cologne on his neck. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes as he lifts your hips onto the truck, and you think to yourself that it should be illegal for a boy to make you feel this delirious.

Steve doesn’t remove his hands from your waist right away when you’re finally sat on the truck bed. He keeps his hands there, his fingers pressing curiously into your skin through your shirt as he situates himself between your legs, which are now dangling on either side of his body. He looks so good from below you, his body outlined by the dim flashlight, his teeth glistening, the slightly nervous expression on his face. Oh my god , you think as he suddenly leans in, and you fear—fear?—he’s going to kiss your lips. But he’s much too far down for that, so instead he kisses the top of your thigh. First the right one, then the left. And then, casual as ever, he backs away, grabs a firework and a lighter from the box, and says, “Time to light shit on fire, baby.”

Your mind still spinning, you just choke out, “Okay.”

He trots out into the open field with his supplies. You follow his path with the flashlight, and when he realizes where you’re shining the light, he turns to you with a playful expression and places his hands on his backside. “Don’t look at my ass!”

“How could I not? It’s right there.”

He tries covering it with the firework in his hand and you snicker. Once he reaches about fifteen paces away from the truck, he turns toward you, gives you a cheeky grin, and sets the firework in the ground. Once he has it lit, he sprints back and launches himself like an energetic child onto the truck bed beside you. You giggle even more.

The firework launches into the air and bursts into golden stars. The whish-boom is so loud that the birds and crickets stop for a second.

“Cool,” you whisper.

“Another one!” Steve announces. He repeats the process, trotting out to the field with a firework, lighting it, and then speeding back to the truck to propel himself onto it beside you. You and he both look up to watch it in the sky.

“You know,” you say after the boom of the firework—red and green this time— “you don’t have to sprint back over here every time.”

“But I wanna sit next to you to watch them go off,” Steve says.

Your heart swells, and because you don’t know what else to say, you respond, “Okay, fine, doofus.”

He nudges your shoulder with his before hopping down to repeat the process again. He lights firework after firework, coming back each time to sit right next to you to watch it explode in the sky together. It’s really quite endearing of him, even though he’s starting to pant with the exertion of running back and forth. You’ve not seen this side of Steve before tonight—so silly, free-natured, smiley, with almost a boyish sort of energy. But you love it.

Some of the fireworks are the typical ones that launch into the air like a rocket and explode in a circle; some crackle like a massive sparkler, illuminating the field in rivulets of golden light. One firework even launches a multitude of glowing stars that spiral into the air and dissolve. You and Steve make conversation about them, commenting on your favorite colors and patterns, making jokes with each other. Before you know it, he’s down to the last two fireworks in the box.

“Okay, so this one’s me… And this one’s you,” he says, designating one of the cylinders for each of you—red for him, blue for you.

“Are you gonna light them both at the same time?” you guess.

“Yeah, and whoever’s goes higher, wins.”

You scoff. “Oh, it’s on.”

“That’s exactly what a loser would say.”

“Wait,” you say, scowling at him. “How will I know you’re not cheating by lighting mine after yours?”

“Because…” —he pulls out a second lighter from his picket and waggles his brows— “You’re gonna light it yourself, at the same time as me.”

“Hmm. Seems fair. And what does the winner get to do?”

“Oh, by winner, you must be referring to me.”

“Don’t get so cocky, Harrington. You’ll regret it.”

“When I win,” he says, leaning in threateningly toward your face, “I get free chocolate chip cookies for a month from you at work.”

“I already give you free chocolate chip cookies,” you complain. “And you already give me free ice cream. That’s a stupid reward.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Steve admits, tapping his chin. “…How about…” His gaze grows devilish. “Loser has to take off their shirt.”

You look around wildly. “In the middle of the woods?!”

He shrugs. “Not like there’s anyone out here to see.”

“That’s so not fair. You’re a guy . It’s completely different when you take off your shirt.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like something someone who’s scared of losing would say. Are you scared? Is that it?”

“No,” you huff with a competitive smile, rubbing your arms. You think but don’t say aloud that you’d tear your shirt off for him right here right now if it means you’d continue where you’d left off in the Hall of Mirrors…but now you’re determined not to lose this game. “I’m not scared. You’re going down, Harrington.”

He looked smug. “Hmm, we’ll just have to see about that, you dork…”

You follow Steve out to the middle of the field, the two of you shoving each other with playful competitiveness. You crouch down side by side, and Steve counts down from three. When he reaches one, you hold the lighter up to the fuse at the exact same time as Steve, and the two of you fall back, wringing your hands with anticipation.

The fireworks shoot off together, in two broad arcs that at first seem to repel each other before arching back and crossing paths. The red explodes first, followed by the blue, which soars high into the air before bursting.

“Ha!” you cheer, jumping up and down. “You lose!”

Steve clenches his fist and sighs, “Shit.”

“You know what that means, Stevie boy…”

You mime taking off your shirt with a suggestive face. Steve huffs a dejected sigh and pulls off his yellow sweatshirt and the white tee he’s wearing underneath in one swift movement. He looks good, of course, but mostly he looks absolutely pitiful with his bare shoulders sagging and the look of sheer defeat on his face. You can’t help but giggle at the way his plan had backfired.

You jump up on the truck bed again, this time helping Steve up by giving him a hand for leverage. The fireworks show had served their purpose at dissolving whatever residual awkwardness had still remained from your argument with Steve earlier at the fair. You feel elated, now, even as the echo from the thunderous fireworks has subsided and the quiet stillness of the night has returned in full force. And as Steve situates himself beside you—even as he balls his sweatshirt up in petulance and throws it at your face like a child—you wish you could bottle this feeling up forever.

“Gotta say, ‘Loser’ looks pretty good on you,” you jest, giving him a once-over with your eyes. The light from the flashlight, which you had propped against the side of the truck bed, was enough to illuminate the details of his torso. His chest hair, the hollow of his throat, the trail on his tummy, his lean shoulders.

“That was actually my plan all along, so joke’s on you,” he pretends to boast.

But the bravado of your earlier banter seems to fade like the smoke from the fireworks in the evening breeze. What is left between the two of you is a strange, mutual sort of buzzing…the hyper-awareness of his body next to yours, his familiar clean fragrance, the way his leg dangles off the truck bed so close that you can feel it brush against your skin. He’s utterly alluring. And something in his eyes indicates that he feels the same about you.

You switch off the flashlight and sit in comfortable silence beside Steve for a few moments. The sounds of the forest resume their serenade, and the afterimages of light in your eyes from the fireworks start to fade. As you adjust to the dark, a new source of light catches your attention.

“The stars,” you exclaim quietly, gazing up.

Steve follows your gaze, and the two of you watch in awe for a long time. There seems to be a million times more stars out tonight than any other old night in Hawkins, despite the moon on the horizon. Perhaps it was just that you’ve finally become aware of the stars again long enough to sit and observe them. Perhaps it was a message from the universe or something cheesy like that. But for whatever reason, the sky is truly dazzling tonight.

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Steve says after a while. You nod your head, and he continues. “I…used to be a Boy Scout.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. For a few years.”

“Why’d you quit?” you wondered.

Steve shrugged. “My parents got busy, so they couldn’t take me to meetings anymore.”

“That sucks.”

“It’s whatever.” Steve lies on his back on the truck bed, heaving a sigh. “I didn’t really like it much anyway. But I did get my Astronomy Badge before I quit.”

“Steve.”

“What?”

“Please tell me you’re not about to point out the constellations right now for me like we’re in some cheesy John Hughes movie.”

“What? No.” He smiles. “Ew. No. I would never do something that sappy.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

A breath of silence. “But, let’s just say,” he says, “for the sake of the argument…that we actually are in a John Hughes movie…”

“Oh no.”

“And if we were… I’d probably lean in close, like this…” He leans his head closer to yours and points to the sky. “And I would show you the star Vega…and there’s Altair…”

“Oh my god, Stevie, so romantic,” you say in a mocking voice.

“Here—” he takes your hand in his and manipulates your fingers so you’re pointing now. And he shuffles himself closer to your head so you could share his line of view. “So there’s the Big Dipper…and if you follow the star right here on the corner and draw a line…you’ll find the North Star.” He tilts his head towards you and smiles. “But it would all just be a ploy, a plot device.”

“A plot device for what?”

“For the boy to get close enough to the girl so he could kiss her.”

Out of nowhere, he leans in toward you, still smiling, and plants a single kiss on your lips. Although your mind reels, you manage to keep your composure at the feel of his warm lips.

“Or something like that,” he whispers. “I dunno. John Hughes movies are kinda cheesy, aren’t they.”

“Kinda?” you echo, giggling. “That was the cheesiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You loved it though, didn’t you.”

You did love it. “Steve Harrington, you are such a cliché,” you joke.

But the joke doesn’t go over very well, it seems. He hesitates, and then the energy changes a bit. He lets his hand fall with yours but doesn’t let go of it. “Do you think that, for real?”

“What?”

“That I’m a cliché.”

You blink at him in the darkness. “I was just joking, I promise,” you reassure him.

“I know, it’s just… Someone told me that before, a long time ago. And I’ve thought about it ever since.”

“Someone told you that you’re a cliche?”

“Well, granted, I kinda was , back then.” He scratches his head.

You ponder that. “Was it…was it Nancy?” you guess.

Steve nods. “Yeah—how’d you know?”

“Just a guess,” you say. Steve and Nancy had been an unlikely pair when they had first gotten together. Nancy was always quiet and kind, smart, never dreamed of stepping out of line. Steve was always loud, brazen, handsome, dripping with charm and wealth, too cool for school—and too cool to give most people the time of day. Of course, though, they both seem to have changed drastically since those days.

You’re curious to know more, but you decide against asking him. It isn’t your place. Instead, you say, “I don’t think you’re a cliché, Steve. Anything but, really. I think you’re pretty…extraordinary, to be honest.” You squeeze his hand and look over at him, before gesturing up to the sky. “And I actually really like hearing about the stars from you, jokes aside. Every girl secretly loves the cheesy romantic stuff, deep down.”

It’s probably the most candid you’ve ever been about your feelings toward him. And it felt good to say it aloud, but you feel shaky with adrenaline now.

“I knew you couldn’t resist a good ol’ romantic stargazing moment,” Steve grins.

“You got me.”

Steve sighs deeply again. “I don’t really wanna be that person anymore…the person Nance said was a cliché. I’m…” —he shifts uncomfortably— “...I’m not proud of a lot of things I did back then.”

You wonder what he meant by that. “That was a while ago,” you reassure him. “You can get a fresh start now that high school’s over.”

“Yeah, there’s just a lot of things I wish I had done differently, though.”

“With…Nancy?” you ask softly.

You can’t see it, but you can tell by his voice that he’s frowning. “Yeah, but just…overall. I was kind of a dickhead… And with Nance, I felt like a better man when I was with her. But I was still… I guess I get why she broke up with me, is all. She definitely deserved better than me.”

“I feel like you’re not giving yourself enough credit,” you respond with genuineness. “I mean, there was a reason you stayed together for almost a whole year, right? Relationships are…they’re two-way streets. And I’m willing to bet you were probably a really good boyfriend to her.”

“I got better, I think…” Steve seems to come to his senses, then, as if he realizes who he’s talking to and what he’s been talking about. “God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. That was really shitty of me—”

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s okay. I promise.”

He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his chest. You’d almost forgotten he still isn’t wearing a shirt; his bare skin feels warm against your hand. There’s a reinstated moment of silence between you two, and yet, a thousand thoughts swim around in your brain.

Carefully, you break the silence again. “I’m glad we’re talking about it.”

“Yeah, but I just know how it feels when you have to listen to someone complain to you about their ex.” He laughs humorlessly. “I mean, at this point, I’m just being pitiful. It was six months ago, and she’s moved on, and I’ve moved on, too. I mean…” He rubs your hand with his thumb. “I mean, I wanna move on.”

“Listen,” you say. “I can tell you really cared about her, Steve. And that you still do. And…I can tell it still hurts. And that you’re still grieving it.” You roll over so you’re on your stomach, propping yourself up with your elbows so you can look at him in the moonlight. “And I want to be here for you. But I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

“But Y/N…” Steve brushes your hair out of your face. “I like you. A lot. I really, really like you.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him say anything so definitive. Your face heats and you smile to yourself. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“For a while I really wasn’t sure that you did,” you admit.

“You’re a doofus. Of course I fucking like you.”

“Well, I don’t know! I mean…god, I was so confused, Steve. I thought that you did, but then you, like, ignored me for a whole week.”

“Yeah, I’m an idiot.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Things just got really… real for me all the sudden, last week.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if you knew this or not, but I…hadn’t really been with anyone since Nancy. Not seriously. Not until…you.”

So Robin had been right. Of course she had. Was Robin ever really wrong about anything? You need to start giving your mutual friend some more credit, you realize.

“You haven’t?” you ask.

“Nope. That’s why I freaked out in your basement last week…and ignored you for a week…and then blamed it on you. Wow. I really fucked this up already, and it hasn’t even started yet.”

You lean down to kiss his arm gently. “You didn’t fuck anything up.” Steve shivers at your touch; you realize then that the temperature has dropped. “You can put your shirt back on if you want,” you giggle.

“Thanks,” he whispers and sits upright to pull his tee shirt back on. Not the sweatshirt, though. “Do you wanna wear this?” He offers it to you.

“That’s okay,” you decline, although the night air has brought goosebumps to your arms.

“Don’t be silly, your hands are freezing.” He nudges you with the sweatshirt until you give in and pull it on over your head. It smells so deliciously good. “It looks good on you,” he compliments.

“Thank you, Steve.” You shimmy next to him again; he stretches out his arm like a pillow for your head. Being this close to him feels like heaven.

“I should be the one thanking you,” he murmurs. “You’ve been nothing but patient and forgiving to me, even if I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve it, dummy. And for the record, I really like you too.”

He shivers again, and you snuggle closer to him. With the arm that’s nestled under your neck, he plays with your hair absently. “I don’t want you to think that the stuff with Nancy changes anything between us.”

You don’t say anything at first.

He stirs beside you. “Y/N?” he prompts.

“What…exactly… is between us?” you ask him.

You’re thinking back to the stupid rules you and Steve had set for each other back in the basement last week. Rule Number Two, stay friends no matter what. There’s nothing you fear more than losing Steve as a friend. Which is why the idea of being more than friends terrifies you as much as it excites you.

“I don’t know,” Steve replies with a smirk, “but I’m down to play it by ear if you are.”

Play it by ear. “That doesn’t sound half bad. But…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I get the feeling that it’s not really just about Nancy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean… All summer, you always joked about how you’re a washed-up version of the Steve Harrington you used to be. I don’t think you’re washed up… I think you’re pretty amazing as is. But I don’t think you really think you’re washed up either. I think you’ve come a long way from who you used to be. And you should be proud of that. But I also get the sense you feel a little lost…like you don’t know who you are if you’re not the same Steve Harrington you used to be.”

There’s a breath of silence as Steve shifts beside you. “Damn, alright, Sigmund Freud.”

Yikes. You probably shouldn’t have said that much. “I’m sorry… That was really out of line for me to say, wasn’t it.”

“No, I mean…you’re not wrong. I guess I don’t really know who I am anymore.”

“There’s no rush to figure out who you are.”

“But, like, I don’t even know what I like, or what I’m good at.”

“I could tell you one thing that you like and that you’re good at,” you say suggestively. “...Sorry, bad joke.”

But he laughs and kisses you again, out of the blue. It’s a shallow, almost chaste kiss that still manages to steal your breath away, but before you know it, he’s trying to roll on top of you, planting kiss after sweet kiss on your parted lips.

“Hey,” you laugh. “We were…having…a conversation.”

“It can wait.” Steve pins you against the truck bed with his body, attacking you over and over again with his lips. Oh, how you’ve longed to feel his body weight atop yours like this. Each kiss brings a feeling of indescribable lightness, like the feeling of a giggle bubbling up from your belly, like the drop of a roller coaster, like gravity has gone away.

As much as his pecks bring you joy, you long for that heavy feeling you got in the back hallway of the mall when he kissed you as if his entire life depended on it. So, right when he’s no longer expecting it, you push Steve’s shoulders off of you and roll on top of him, trading places. His eyes are wide in the moonlight, and you plan a kiss above each one, on each of his eyelids.

“Kiss me like you mean it,” you command.

“I do mean it.”

“Then prove it.”

Steve snakes his arms around your back and holds you securely as he pulls you down to kiss him deeply. Fireworks, just like the ones from earlier, seem to pop off between your bodies, and you’ve never felt so irrevocably his until this very moment.

“See, I told you, you are good at something,” you murmur when he finally breaks away.

“How can I make a career out of this?” Steve feels up and down your body with open palms and an expression of sheer reverence.

You laugh and brush his hair from his face. “There are plenty of careers you could have,” you say seriously.

The conversation from earlier resumes. “Yeah, but…” Steve’s lips purse in thought. “It just feels like, while everyone else was figuring out who they were in high school, I was stuck trying to be what everyone else thought I should be, and I didn’t let myself explore who I wanted to be.”

“Well…What were some things you were good at in high school?”

“Nothing,” he insists. “I sucked at every subject.”

“Did you suck, or did you just not try?”

“...Okay, fine. I didn’t try. But I didn’t really care about school anyway. It never interested me. Still doesn’t, really. Like, I am not looking forward to community college.”

“Okay, well, what were some things that you did find interesting?”

“...Sports…parties…”

“I mean, we can work with that. You’re a people person, Steve. You like people. And you’re good with them. And from what Robin told me, you’re good with the kids, too,” you add with a jab to his side. He twists away and scowls.

“Yeah, I know, my only friends for the last part of high school were a gang of middle schoolers. Tell me that’s not the most uncool thing you’ve ever heard.”

“Actually, it’s not. You’ve got a heart for the youngins; so what?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, I’ve got a good direction for you.”

“What is it?”

“...Little league coach.”

“Actually, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It was either that, or ‘Stay-At-Home Dad.’”

“...That doesn’t sound too bad, either.”

You laugh and kiss both corners of his mouth. “I don’t really know what I want to do either, for the record.”

“Yeah, but you were at least good at school. Like, weren’t you telling me that you got into Purdue?”

You did get into Purdue, but there was a distinct reason why you weren’t going in the fall…that reason being money, primarily. “I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life, though,” you insist.

“Is it bad if I say I’m kinda glad you’re not leaving for college in August?” he smiles shyly. “We get to spend more time together.”

“No. Not bad. I’m glad, too.” You had deferred your acceptance to community college so you could work full-time for half a year. And the idea of spending as much time as possible with Steve during that time was more than a little exciting. You kiss his lips once more before rolling off of him, resuming your position in the crook of his arm. “I’m just saying, you and I have time. There’s no rush.”

“To figure out what we’re doing with our lives, or to figure out what we are?” Steve asks.

“...Both.”

“You’re right.” Steve kisses your head beside him. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“...I know what happened back there at the fair was kind of a lot… Really sexy, don’t get me wrong...”

“Really sexy,” you agree with a giggle.

“But is it okay if we take things a bit…slow?” he asks. “Maybe, like…warm up to the rest?”

You nod understandingly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief. “Good. Maybe in the meantime…we could go on a date. Like a real date.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Steve Harrington?”

“Hell yeah I am,” he says. “We’ll do the whole shebang. The fancy dinner, the movie. I’ll get you some roses and shit.”

“Now that’s cliché,” you laugh. “But I kinda love the idea.”

“Friday night?”

“Pick me up at 7?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gazes down at you. “But…is it okay if I kiss you again?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

And so he does The novelty of the feeling of his kisses is starting to fade, but the bubbly feeling inside your stomach remains. You could kiss Steve Harrington like this all night long—nothing more, just kisses, laughing with each other, and the stars. Simple as that.

And that’s exactly what you do.

✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: Helloooo! Yayyy, they finally had an honest conversation LMFAO. I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Much love ❤︎ from Juniper

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#steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #st #fanfiction #fanfic #steve harrington smut #works by juniper #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #reader insert #imagine

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seattlesellie · 1 month

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hi angel🫧

i hope this isn't weird but i really like how girly and cute you make reader like she's so cute and i literally need to be her 🥹

and I'm kind of assuming that your super girly irl and I was wondering if you could maybe give me some advice on being more girly and cute!

ps~(I don't mind coming off anon if that means you could go more into detail if that helps💫)

thank you so much in advance🩷

awwwh i'm so happy u like my reader 🥺 i honestly don't know if i have any advice cos i think femininity is just something that comes naturally if ur comfortable with it and like it. it also comes in so many ways and not just physical appearance. i could give u a million advices when it comes to appearance but i dont want to come off as superficial, as femininity is so much more than that. for me ive just always been obsessed with aesthetic and fashion and makeup cos it brings me calmness and i feel comfortable in that realm<3

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀

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isleofair · 2 months

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Hullo! As a writer, any advice or tips on writing chase scenes? 🥰 Or any fast moving scenes?

Ooohhh! 😮😮😮

First of all... I'm incredibly honored you'd ask my opinion! Thank you! 🥺🙏💚 I don't consider myself an expert by any means, but I have written a couple of chase/action scenes, and I particularly enjoyed doing that, so I'll give this a try. (Even though at the time I wasn't really giving this a ton of conscious thought, I'll admit... And I haven't, like, studied writing, or written a huge lot, so all of this could be terribly basic and obvious, in which case, I apologize in advance. 😥)

The first and most obvious things that comes to my mind (at least from a theoretical standpoint) is trying to keep up the pace/tension by using sentence and paragraph structure. I saw advice once that said one should use a new paragraph whenever you'd get a different shot in a movie, so, even if it's not a perfect 1-to-1: fast-paced scenes = usually lots of quick cuts = probably not too many long paragraphs, or sentences. Of course, this is very general; if the "beat" of the scene you want to evoke is particularly "staccato", e.g., if it's a chase on foot, maybe it would be cool to make the sentences sound a little more like pounding feet; whereas if it's a car vs a motorbike, the "rhythm-feel" of the scene might be more akin to longer, contrasting, dueling roars. (I don't think I've ever really been able to do something like this, but it would be cool!). Of course, if you have something like one or a few longer (tracking?) shots in the middle of the, uh, mental movie sequence, I suppose, those could be a longer sentence/paragraph, and having differences would help make the scene even more dynamic. Like a rubber band being plucked many times really fast, and then getting pulled for longer, to release with a bigger bang? Something like that. A long sentence or paragraph could also be the long sigh of relief after all the fast-paced tension, once the action is over.

If it is specifically a chase, I would probably try to make sure we get enough updates on how the chase is going, like mentions of the chaser gaining ground, or stuff like that. Of course, the tension can also come from this not happening, when one of the parties has lost sight of the other, but if we're supposed to be able to keep track in that moment, it's probably best not to let the narration linger on just one of the two for too long, again, just to help in not losing the feeling of urgency.

I personally also like to try and look for very dynamic-sounding or more dramatic words in these cases? Like, if, say, Keith is flying fast in a tense situation, he's not 'flying', he's 'shooting' towards something (obvious, but worth mentioning). In the same vein, it might be best to lose any unnecessary additions/descriptors that might make the narration drag out and lose steam; but I am also convinced that details help focus a scene and make it feel more immediate/real, so... finding a balance between these two things might mean, for example, using synecdoche/letting the detail speak for itself (e.g. if, say, Keith is flying after Lunatic and Lunatic shoots flames at him, just describing the flames coming at Keith, instead of describing Lunatic doing it, might be more effective).

Finally, if you write to music, put on something tense and fast-paced (once again, obvious, but I think worth mentioning!)

I can't think of anything else at the moment... and it's probably for the best, I've rambled on a lot already! 😅 Thank you so much again for asking, I really appreciate that you'd want to hear my thoughts about it, and I'm always grateful for a chance to talk about writing! 🥰🥰🥰

#writing #action scenes

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xmoonlitxdreamx · 10 months

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Hiya!! I’ve stopped by once or twice to ogle and awe at your artwork—but recently you have installed mercy and junkrat *into my brain*—SPECIFICALLY, your Angela and Jamison. But I am also obsessed with with Junkhog 😭😭SO I WAS WONDERING—do you have any headcanons serious/silly/otherwise for those three? (Be it interactions between themselves or just things about them!

I seriously cannot applaud you enough, I don't think I've ever seen an artsyle that I adore with all my heart until you T^T thank you for creating!!

Ahhh thank you!! 😭💖💖 I'm really glad you like!! Those three are my favs to draw rn so I'm glad you're enjoying~ And thank you so so much for the kind words about my art style 🥺💖💖

I've drawn the 3 of them together a few times; you can find most things I've drawn of them together in my "mercyhograt" tag. ;0

I have a blurb abt their dynamic in my carrd (and also all my other ovw ships/etc), but I'll include the blurb + some other notes under the cut (cw for some suggestive talk maybe?):

Blurb from my carrd (somewhat outdated, wrote this in like march or sth & i kinda softened their dynamic a bit):

Mercy/Roadrat -> she's mostly just friends/begrudging acquaintances. She finds them exasperating. The three of them slept together like once or twice for some reason. (????) Occasionally is a little patronizing toward them, especially Junkrat. Despite her frustrations w them she worries abt them and their health & wants the best for them. Tends to be more earnest around Roadhog, thinks a little more highly of him than Junkrat. Junkrat is kinda oblivious that she finds him exhausting and is mostly friendly to her, tho he thinks it's annoying when she lectures him. Roadhog trusts her and generally agrees with her, but finds her kind of pretentious and a killjoy.

Other things:

◇ Junkrat mainly hangs out w Mercy when Roadhog's away on a mission + d.va and lúcio aren't around

◇ junkrat & mercy sometimes do random frivilous stuff together like spa days, watching trashy movies, getting dressed up, going to cafes/bakeries (lmao??? Listen idk)

◇ Junkrat has kind of an earnest crush on Mercy; Mercy doesn't have the same feelings; they don't rly talk about it much & their relationship is mostly friendship

◇ I don't think Junkrat rly flirts w Mercy tho, he mainly lets her make any advances if she feels like it (??)

◇ Mercy & Roadhog have like a mutual trust but they don't really hang out much? Mercy thinks Roadhog's like immensely cool™️ but she'd never admit that to him lmao;;

◇ mercy & roadhog work pretty well together on missions; but if Junkrat's there too, roadhog's more inclined to follow Junkrat's lead which can cause leadership tension (since mercy tends to act as leader on missions)

◇ Roadhog thinks Mercy's corny but tolerable & trusts her medical advice

◇ Roadhog's not attracted to Mercy & loves to act like a little hater around her (esp when she and Junkrat are trying to like impress him or wtv), but he actually finds her efforts kinda entertaining lmao

◇ despite all her complaints abt the two of them Mercy earnestly trusts their expertise in fighting and mechanics (<latter is mainly junkrat)

◇ Junkrat & Roadhog do occasionally have a little bit of animosity toward her (or mainly toward overwatch) for being less sympathetic (? Or kinda just patronizing or not fully understanding) to junkers/life in the outback post-omnium explosion, tho this kinda happens in bouts idk (? Not rly sure how to explain what im imagining)

Comics/scenes I wanna draw sometime but may or may not:

◇ Junkrat asking Mercy to teach him how to dance so he can woo Roadhog at some holiday party or sth (??)

◇ Junkrat talking to Mercy abt his apprehension w getting healthy & aging, & how it relates to his relationship w roadhog (also partially abt Mercy's struggle w treating the two them)

◇ Junkrat, Roadhog, and Mercy go on a mission together where they infiltrate a casino (???)

◇ junkrat & mercy eating at a cafe together (??? Lmao idk)

Ok I think that's it.... mainly mercyrat, tbh I don't imagine a lot of mercy & hog.

#replies #info #mercyrat #mercyhograt

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sequinsmile-x · 2 years

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Advance happy birthday to one of my favorite Hotchniss writers! I’d like to request for the following from list #2: “Our kids are gonna be *mwah*!” and “You’re breathtaking”. Thanks 🥰

Ahhh thanks anon 🥺, always blows me away when someone says I am one of their favourites ❤️

-x-

Just some very pointless fluff for you all on this Friday evening

-x-

Vulnerability

Words: 1.8k

Warning: High risk pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Why do we have to move the TV?”

Aaron smiles as he turns to look at Jack, briefly turning from where he’d been unplugging the television, not missing the slight pout on his son’s face.

“Emily has to stay upstairs in bed remember, buddy?” He says, turning back to the task at hand, ensuring nothing was plugged into the television before he lifts it. “So we’re taking it upstairs so she doesn’t get bored.”

He knew it was like trying to put a bandaid on a bullet hole, his wife already anxious and on edge, the instruction of bed rest from her OBGYN already frustrating her. He was doing whatever he could to make her feel better, whilst also ensuring she stuck to medical advice for the remainder of her pregnancy. The last thing he wanted was for her to end up back in hospital again, the barely concealed fear on her face as multiple machines were attached to her belly when she was admitted the week before seared into his memory.

“Because the babies made her sick?” Jack asks, his eyebrows creasing together.

Aaron sighs, “She’s not sick buddy, but this will keep her and the babies safe, ok?” He explains as best as he can for his son, trying, not for the first time, to put everything the doctors had told them into a child-friendly format.

Her pregnancy had been rough from the start, her morning sickness hitting her almost the moment the test was positive. Before they’d started trying Emily’s doctor told her about the risks involved. Her age made things tricker, as did her injuries from Doyle, but they wanted to try. Both of them looking longingly at the spare room in their house right next to their bedroom. The real estate agent’s comments about it being a perfect nursery echoing around their heads. In the end, they’d fallen pregnant quicker than they’d anticipated, and despite the smell of Aaron’s cologne and coffee turning her stomach, everything seemed ok.

Then they found out Emily was pregnant with twins.

She’d required more monitoring from her doctors, frequent scans and visits, and was ultimately grounded to stay in Quantico just before she turned 6 months. She hadn’t even fought Aaron on that, the exhaustion of carrying two babies made her almost grateful that the decision was taken out of her hands. He felt better about it, anxiety he hadn’t been aware had been living in his chest easing as soon as she was no longer travelling with the team.

Then her blood pressure spiked suddenly, a very scary couple of hours that saw her admitted to hospital for a few days, released only that morning with instructions to remain on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy.

“Let’s take this up to her, ok?” Aaron says, smiling reassuringly at his son who nods enthusiastically, running for the stairs to go up and see Emily, “be careful ok buddy?” He calls after him, sighing when he hears the door to his bedroom tear open.

It was going to be a long couple of months.

___

She shifts in bed next to him again, groaning as she tries to get comfortable, whining in frustration when she doesn’t succeed.

“Em-” He whispers, reaching out for her, not missing how she tenses, her reply cutting over him before he could go any further.

“I’m fine, Aaron,” she says, her voice tight, “sorry for moving so much, you can go back to sleep.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, sitting up to turn the lamp on his nightstand before placing his hand on her shoulder, “you have nothing to apologise for. Can I help?”

“No, it’s ok,” she says, shifting just enough to look at him, “I just can’t get comfortable,” she smiles weakly at him, “something to do with being 30 weeks pregnant with twins.”

He smiles at her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Want me to go sleep in the spare room? The extra space might help.”

“No,” she replies quickly, reaching for his hand and linking her fingers with his, “I like having you here.”

“Ok, I’ll stay,” he assures her, squeezing her hand. She moves their linked hands and places them on her bump, pressing his hand into her belly, sharing a smile with him when he feels a kick against his palm. “That’s him, right?”

She nods, humming her agreement in her throat. “That’s baby boy,” she replies, moving his hand to the other side of her belly, a sharp jolt that he thinks must be an elbow pushing outwards, “and that’s baby girl,” she grimaces slightly, just like she had every time she referred to the babies since they found out what they were having, “Derek and Pen really have ruined that for me.”

He chuckles, laying down so he was facing her, his hand gently rubbing at her belly, skin she had told him felt like it was going to burst open.

“We could solve that if we came up with names for them.”

She grimaces, “It is so hard to come up with names when you’ve dealt with so many criminals,” she complains, her eyes meeting his, “everything reminds me of a case.”

“We’ll get there, love,” he says, smiling at her.

“Easy for the man who accidentally named his son after Jack the Ripper to say,” she quips, her eyebrow raised at him. He presses his fingers into her side slightly in retribution, not surprised to feel one of the babies respond with a movement of their own.

“What I’m saying is,” he continues as if she hadn’t spoken, “we might just have to see them before anything feels right.” He sees her smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than for the next 7 weeks to fly by, her scheduled c-section circled on the calendar on their fridge. “Hey,” he says, hooking a finger under her chin to make her look at him, “Our kids are going to be-” he punctuates his sentence with a kissing sound, and she laughs at him, the sound making his heart soar.

“Did Pen teach you that?” She asks, an affectionate smile blooming on her face.

“Maybe.” he replies, cupping her cheek and kissing her, his lips soft against hers as he tries to push everything he felt into it. How much he loved her, how in awe of her he was. How he’d spend the rest of his life trying to pay her back for this, for what she was doing for their family. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep if we get you comfortable?”

She shakes her head in response. “Not when they are this active.”

“Seven weeks to go,” he says reassuringly, his thumb delicate at her cheekbone.

“Yeah, seven weeks to go.”

He kisses her again before reaching for the remote for the television on his nightstand, switching it on as he talks to her.

“I think that Real Housewives show you’ve been watching is on at this time of night.”

She smiles up at him as she settles into his side, putting some of the extra weight she was carrying onto him.

“How do you know that?” She asks, her hand resting on his chest as she looks at the screen, the correct channel coming up just as the housewives appeared to be in the middle of an argument. He puts the subtitles on and turns the volume down a little, not wanting the sound to wake Jack up.

“You like it, so I wanted to make sure I knew when it was on.”

She places her hand on his cheek, making him look down at her as she kisses him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, leaning the side of his head against the top of her as she settles down against his side, “so what’s going on here? Every time I watch this with you they are always arguing.”

“Ok so,” she says, using the same serious voice she would use when delivering a profile, “Dorinda and LuAnn used to be friends.”

___

Aaron couldn’t stop looking at her.

Emily had always been beautiful to him, from the moment he first saw her he’d been enraptured, captivated in a way that had initially come out as hostility. Chastising himself for being so attracted to her when he was still married to someone else, when he was sure she was Strauss’s spy.

Now she was his wife, his partner in everything, and it sometimes still didn’t feel real. Like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

“You’re staring,” she says, looking up at him, briefly tearing her eyes from the newborn babies in her arms, both asleep and settled against their mother. She was tired, but glowing. She smirks at him as he clears his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly.

He stands up from the seat next to her bed and gets his phone out of his pocket, switching on the camera to take a photo of Emily and the twins, Penelope already harassing him for updates.

“Aaron, no,” she complains, scrunching her nose up at him, “I look awful.”

Her hair was braided, strands escaping the hair style he had done for her whilst they waited for the surgeon to be ready, calming Emily’s nerves as her anxiety built. She was exhausted, the last night she’d slept well somewhere early on back in her second trimester, lines under her eyes that gave it away to anyone who looked.

But she was beautiful, and he wouldn’t have her believing anything else.

“You’re breathtaking.” He replies automatically, smiling at her when she rolls her eyes at him before looking back down at the twins.

“You have to say that, I’m your wife,” she smiles at their daughter before doing the same at their son, looking at them like she couldn’t quite believe they were real, “and I just had two of your kids.”

“It’s true,” he says, leaning down to stamp a kiss against her lips, smiling at the two sleeping newborns against her, “come on, Em. Garcia won’t give me a moments peace until I send a picture, and then we’ll never get round to naming them.”

She groans slightly, nodding before she kisses him.

“Fine,” she says, a smile on her face that lets him know she’s grateful, that this was a memory she’d eventually be glad they had pictures of. She smiles at him as he takes a few photos, both of them relieved when the sound from the camera doesn’t wake either of the twins. She encourages him to join her on the bed when he’s done, shifting over to give him room as he eases their daughter out of her arms. “Do you think they’ll always be this quiet?”

“Oh not at all,” he replies, kissing the side of her head as he looks down at his little girl, “we really should name them though.”

She groans and presses her forehead into his shoulder.

“Did you bring the list?”

-x-

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ithinkabouttzu · 1 year

Note

I'm 5"9, with shoulder length curly hair, I have white skin and blue eyes. I am born in June and a Cancer. I'm a little on the chubbier side and very insecure about it.

For personality stuff I am the responsible, mom friend who everybody seeks advice from. I'm quiet and reserved towards people whom I don't yet know and can tend to be shy, but once I get to know that person I can be quite the loyal and passionate friend. My love language is a mixture between acts of service and physical touch.

For things I like I am VERY passionate about reading and writing. I also can get quite hyperfixated on things that interest me in the slightest. So if a person is willing to listen, I could go on for ages, rambling about anything and everything that coincides within that topic. I guess another thing to add on is I like learning languages. I'm currently learning French and had an attempt at Ukranian and Japanese in the past few years.

I'm sorry, but it's hard coming up with things about me, so I hope this is enough 🥺🥺

Thanks in advance <333

Thank you for your request sweetheart! 🩵

I ship you with…

Eugene Roe!

Song recommendation: Cornelia Street - Taylor Swift

- Okay, so I think you and him would have SUCH great chemistry together, like you and him just have this natural romantic energy towards each other and it’s great

- When he first met you he would look at you like you are the best thing he’s ever seen, you’d see him staring at you and you’d just be like “is he okay?” LOOOL

- He thinks it’s so cute when he comes up to you and you get a little shy, I mean he would never admit it to you, but he thinks it’s adorable whenever you get shy around him

- Through out the night he could tell you were getting more and more comfortable with you and he would feel so happy with you getting closer to him omg

- Hed end up asking you out for dinner by the end of the night, he hasn’t felt that good talking to someone in a longgg time, and even just meeting you and seeing how beautiful you are inside and out, he just has to ask you

- He would be so sweet planning out a date for you guys, like asking you what all your favorite things are, food, hobbies, sports, whatever you like doing, and that day he will make sure you guys do all of the stuff you like doing! He’s so thoughtful when it comes to date nights

- Both of you are the responsible couple for sureee, like you guys are the parents of the friend group and can always calm a group down when they get a little too crazy LOL

- I think he’d definitely be interested in the things you are really into if you tell him about it, he’s always got an open mind when it comes to learning about new things, so if you ever want to talk to someone about something you’ve gotten fixated on please tell him bc he is happy to hear 🤣

- He enjoys seeing you on how passionate you are for reading and writing, like he thinks it’s so fascinating how you can sit and write down 1000 words in just one sitting, it’s honestly super impressive to him

- And you know multiple languages? You honestly can’t get any cooler to him, if you ever start speaking around the house, or he sees you practicing, he will come up to you so quick and ask you how to say a word in that language, or just watch you study on it quietly, trying to learn some of it too! If anything just tell him all of the sweet pet names and cuss words in the language too and he’ll be fine 🤣

- He hates when you ever get insecure about your weight or your body in general, he will remind you over and over and over again how gorgeous you are to him and how much he loves you AND your curves. Like he can’t get enough of them tbh

- He loves seeing how passionate you can get for the people you love, like it literally makes his heart beat for you so much faster, and he just loves you so much omg, both of you have that same passion for loved ones and that’s also a reason why I think you guys would be so good together

- He thinks your blue eyes are so beautiful, like he could stare into them for hours if he wanted to, you are just so gorgeous to him in general

- Both of your love languages are acts of service so I think you guys would be so loving and caring in a relationship with each other, like helping the other out when they need it, and just being a good help to the other person, but y’all are just a good healthy couple fr

- When any couple needs some sort of advice, or if any of your friends or his need some type of relationship advice they definitely come to you guys, like y’all would be the OG couple in a friend group for sure and people would think of y’all when they think of a great relationship

- Ugh let me tell you how he loves playing with your curly hair (only if you let him ofc) But if he does, just stroking his fingers through your hair he will get so sleepy so quick, it’s just so calming and relaxing for him to do

- He can also be a big sucker for physical touch too, holding and snuggling up to you once the days over, one thing you’ll notice is that he gets extra touchy and cuddly when he’s sad or he’s had a bad day, he gets so soft around you 🥹

- Overall you guys would be the perfect significant other to one another. Like y’all just blend out so well together you can’t really explain it, both of you enjoy being with each other so much and he can’t wait to spend so much more time with you.

#ithinkabouttzu #band of brothers #band of brothers ships

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radiant-reid · 1 year

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gurl, i need your help pretty pls for something i'm plotting. i need advice and you're one of the people on tumblr that i feel understands spencer's character so well🥺

here's the thing, i have a story of reader x hotch, but there's a moment previous to their relationship where i wanted her and reid to be friends with benefits, yk? 😏 thing is, spence gets attached pretty easily and i don't want to break his heart😩 what do u think could happen/be said or done in order for spencer to get over his and readers relationship easily and stay as friends? (this is way before maeve, around s.3)

ahjgjsvs i thank u in advance for reading this and if you have any ideas i would be very grateful!!!! have a great day!

sorry this took me like a day, i wanted to think on it

i think this is a really cool plot because you get to mix up lots of tropes

wanting different things in the future. in s3 spencer's in a bit of a bad spot so maybe he doesn't want a relationship, just some stress-relieving sex ? it seems a little unlikely with his personality but in that era, i think it fits

spencer meets a different character who's his love interest romantically rather than sexually

spencer knows she's interested in hotch but he's just doing guy things (or maybe he's trying to nudge her towards talking to hotch)

spencer and reader were only together for practice (maybe he lost his v-card to her) but it's not the typically trope where they fall in love

#rr answers

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howdoyousleep3 · 9 months

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hey there Mama K, how's it going? I'd like to ask you for some writing advice if you don't mind... I have this idea to write Poly Stucky, make it a series but it's always different AUs/scenarios and the third person is either Reader or OC but I'm unsure which option is a smarter choice (I've never written reader insert OR created my own characters lel) and now I'm struggling a little... any advice at all on how to best write this? your reader inserts always turn out amazing!! thank you in advance and so much love <33 (ALSO the newest update of ytlytn is mindblowing but I've left an ao3 comment so I won't pester you with my fangirling on here hihi)

Ohhhhh, this kind of sounds like my favorites series where it's Steve and Bucky meeting in like 50-something different ways. 🥺

This sounds like such a fun idea! I feel like there may be something you're drawn to a bit more than the other? Surely it isn't 50/50? I like reader insert because the concept is just fun, being able to put a reader directly in a fic is 😍. But OC is fun as well! I've never written anything with an OC though, so I'm not sure I can contribute to that part of your predicament.

If I were in your spot, I'd probably go reader insert just because it feels more versatile, but I'm sure either would be 👌🏻.

Sending you so much lub right back and thank you! For reader insert love and for ytlytn love!! 💖

#askK #writing advice #this is reminding me of my kinktober idea that will never happen lol #i love the idea of poly and reader!#but also oc is so special

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journen · 2 years

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how did you get into art/get so good! i feel like every time i try it's a huge flop and i despair that i will never be able to draw anything original

Hey anon! Thank you for the question! This is gonna be a long post but i’ll trap some of it under a read more lol. So sorry for the essay in advance!! And i also wanted to say, when i saw your message i immediately thought of this post. Its v accurate and true.

So anyhow… got into art mostly when I was 11… I really liked the game Zelda Skyward Sword lol, and started trying to come up with and illustrate my own original zelda stories, etc… (not that they were any good i was a kid haha🤣) and then I ended up doing this for other fandoms i got into in the future! And so i just kept drawing? I always have a million story ideas in my head, and drawing is my way to get them out of my head and see it as an illustration lol. I didn’t actually start taking it seriously until 2019 tho. It took a long time, and theres still a million more things i can learn and improve at, progress can be slow but my main advice is to…

Draw what inspires you, especially when you are starting off! And especially if it’s just a hobby! Because the key to improving, is to just keep drawing. You will not improve in any other way. And having fun with it is so important! And you mentioned being concerned your work has to be super original…if you think originality will get you success - you are kinda drawing for the wrong reasons I think. Try to have fun with it first, and you will find your original style as you go and improve.

Anyhow, improvement can take a long time, and if you’re like me, you’re always going to think your stuff isn’t good enough and you should be better, but you can’t let that get you down because otherwise you will give up, and we are better than that right?

More under the cut!

And you mentioned your work “flopping” - don’t judge your worth / skill over how many notes something you did gets! 🥺 This is the social media curse lol. The amount of attention your work gets is not an absolute measure of your skill whatsoever. Try to learn to draw for your own enjoyment, and not compare yourself to others because we all have different levels of experience and different things we are good at. I understand the despair feeling tho lol, but if you get bogged down by the negatives you will never improve. 💛

Oh! And as you go, the more you improve, then you can start doing more fine tuned studies(like environment/anatomy/lighting studies) but using reference is always good too when you are drawing! I never draw without ref lol, but maybe that’s the concept artist in me. Drawing is hard work tho and you end up having to put the work in if you really want to improve eventually, but if you draw what inspires you then it doesn’t feel like as much work as it is. 😉

Anyhow, sorry for the essay! I just have a lot of passionate thoughts on this topic. Thank you for the question anon! Idk if this helped at all, or was interesting, but yeah!! 💛💛 Please keep drawing and don’t give up! And feel free to reach out if you have any questions in the future!

Heres one of my fav memes as a treat for reading this whole post

#sorry for writing so much again #youve just caught me in a moment where i am lacking sleep and almost have no filter lol #sorry if i went over oard #overboard*#but yeah!!#journen speaks #text post #anon ask #feel free any other anons to ask any questions too!!#i rb’d a post about it earlier today lol #💛💛💛

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is-the-fish-tank-big-enough · 2 years

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Hey I just wanna say thank you for being a more personal source of information on fishkeeping. I don’t use you as my only advice source of course, but sometimes when the internet is vague, doesn’t have any good advice, or is just plain controversial (ie. (Not the same anon) the shrimp thing) I know I can typically come to you and get a clearer answer. I really appreciate it, thank you

🥺 This is. So sweet.

I miss how popular independent internet forums were. Places like these encouraged the type of guidance I feel I give on this blog.

Often, you also won't get black and white answers from me. Like with the betta/shrimp anon: I will give you my perspective which includes the research I've done, and my reasonings (cost of shrimp, cost of a secondary tank, problem solving for various solutions), but in the end I am not you and you will need to decide using your ethics and your ability to provide care. That is simply something I cannot do for you and if anyone tries to do that for you they are probably not someone you should get your information from. (like...a good doctor would present the facts, and weigh the pros and cons of each treatments, for the most part!)

And forums were good for this. Lots of people would throw out their experiences, offer ideas, etc when asked.

And yeah sometimes these spaces can have users who do not handle these interactions well-- either by being bossy or mean. But I feel like that has gotten worse especially in the fish groups on Facebook. I've seen a lot of beginners be shut down for making a rookie mistake or asking a simple question, and then they're turned off of fishkeeping because of these negative interactions. It's heartbreaking.

But part of why I do outreach on this blog is to encourage my followers how to research, think critically, and strive for constant advancement of your husbandry. I can only hope that you all will do the same for anyone who seeks your guidance in the future.

Sorry for the long winded response LOL it's communities like this that I want to engage with, and help improve and inspire as a (future) veterinarian. So you can see where my passions lie 😅

#not a rating #asks #long post.#i am so sorry I tried to cut down the chatter but I didn't want to leave a lot up for interpretation

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ex-textura · 1 year

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Hiya, Sebastian! ♥ I'm just passing by to say I really admire your art and your talent, and one day I hope to have enough money to share with you and support your beautiful work. :( ♥ I'd like to know a little bit about how you first came into contact with drawing and if you have any cheap/free tools and tutorials you'd recommend to someone who wants to start taking drawing more seriously (and knows 0% about it lmao), if you don't mind. Much love always! - tiefling enthusiast anon

Anon!! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this! This is such a kind ask omg thank you 🥺🥺

Don’t ever worry about not being able to buy anything from me, your kind words are honestly enough (and I know what it’s like not to be able to afford to support artists. It’s hard but I promise you messages like this mean so, so much more than money. I’m giddy rn lol)

As for getting into art, tbh I started drawing very young. I used to draw Pokémon and digimon on my desk in elementary school, and then going into junior high I started to branch out a little more though I stopped around high school and didn’t pick up drawing again until more than 10 years later lol….but it’s always been something I loved to do, and coming back to it has really filled a hole in my life I didn’t realize was there for a long time.

For a lot of my early drawings, it was just printer paper and ballpoint pens or plain old pencils until I got my first graphics tablet years later. So if you’re just starting out you don’t really need anything but the will to draw and something to scribble on. If you’re looking to start with digital art though there’s a couple of routes you can take. If you have access to an iPad, or can get one cheap (think used, past model… you don’t need much) there are a number of apps you can get such as ibis paint (which I think may be free or have a free version though I don’t use it myself) or procreate (it’s what I use on my iPad, but it has a one-time fee of I believe $13.99CAD). Or, if you have a computer I got started on a simple graphics tablet and you can get them for fairly cheap these days used (mine was like $80CAD) and I used a free version of Paint Tool SAI which works great.

Still though, if you’re okay not starting with digital art I would recommend just getting a small sketch book for under $10, a mechanical pencil and a gum eraser (those brownish ones). That’s all you really need to get started.

As for tutorials, I mostly watch YouTubers for art advice. I’d recommend Sam Does Arts, Drawfee, and Sinix Design

Sam does a lot of “rating art advice” videos, critiquing his followers pieces, and some goofy things but he has a lot of great tips and he explains things in a very easy to understand way. He also calls out his own flaws easily and teaches you to learn from his own mistakes which I find very encouraging.

Drawfee is four artists with different styles that mostly do art challenges among themselves but they also host art classes for their patrons and those videos get posted to their channel for the general public so you can still follow along for free. I like that they have different styles and different methods, and when they post their speed draws they talk through their process which is very informative.

Sinix is an incredible artist and while some of his videos are definitely more advanced he has beginner videos too that teach the very basics and I still spend a lot of time watching those ones to really drill them into my brain. He’s more informative than entertaining like the other two are, but his stuff is so good.

Other than YouTube videos, I also spend a lot of time on Line of Action which is a great site for practicing form and anatomy.

I’d also recommend the morpho drawing books if you can find a free pdf online (there are definitely sources for them I just can’t seem to find any right now…).

Im sorry this got so long winded xD I don’t even know if it makes any sense anymore lol. But basically…. Get yourself some paper and a mechanical pencil, a decent eraser and start with the basics. There are so many free resources online to get you there. After that… just get yourself a blorbo that you’re just so obsessed with and draw them over and over again until you can do it from memory. Then keep drawing them some more. It takes time and persistence and you might even feel frustrated when you start out, but remember that everyone starts somewhere and even the greatest artists are still learning.

And, please if you do start drawing feel free to share your art with me! I’d love to see it, and hopefully we can grow together ❤️❤️

#thank you for this ask anon #I really hope I was able to help even a little bit #drawing can be so frustrating but mostly it’s liberating #and I would love to share that with you #anon ask #advice

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whoseafraidofliloleme · 2 years

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I wanna ask!! Thanks in advance, darling ❤️

do you know how your story ends before you start writing?

do you plan or do you write whatever comes to your mind?

what is the last thing that a fic made you google when you were writing it? (Lol I Google way too much)

any writing advice you want to share? (I need all I can get 💙)

Aaaah thank you so much for asking 😭😭😭. I love your fics and this is very surreal to me 🥺🥺🥺.

No, I don't really know how the story ends... I know it'll be a happy ending but that's about it 😂.

Ah see that's a tricky one. I'm very much a write whatever comes to mind 😂. Planning for me atleast is having the idea in my head and then I start writing and decide to go with something else 😂😂. To be fair I also count having chapters ready and queued as planning, cause I was on top of that with my completed smaus. Not so much my currently ongoing smaus 😂😂.

I don't really Google much 😂, atleast not for my Enhypen fics. With my True Beauty fanfic, I was googling quite a bit, mainly about the Korean education system 😂😂. Wait does looking for pics count as googling? Then the last thing I googled was Heeseung with baby kitten.

Aaaah I love your writing, I should be asking you for advice honestly 💜💜. But since you've asked, I'd say to never forget who your writing for. To explain I write fanfic for myself, I have an overactive imagination and it's fun to put my ideas into social media aus or one shots. Yes I post it on Tumblr but first and foremost I write for myself, it's my creative outlet. I feel like if you forget who your writing for, the fun is lost, it becomes a chore or a job you want to quit but can't.

I hope the advice was helpful. Again thank you so much for asking me these questions, it's made my day really 💜💜.

#zainab answers #thank you for asking 🥺#ask: parkdatjimin #i love your fics #this feels like a dream #a author i love asking me things 😭😭#really tho #this made my day #thank you so much

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