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#this was gonna have like shading and stuff but it looks fine without it and I dont feel like it

harrywavycurly · 7 months

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Trouble Next Door Part 21: Practice Date

Masterlist: here

TW: None

Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @makingmunson94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99

A/N: I included this as a regular part because it’s important to the storyline, also…y’all might not like how this ends but please just have faith in me I know exactly where this story is going and how it’s gonna end✨

“These…are for you.” “Oh Eddie these are so pretty thank you…uh please come in while I put these in a vase.” “You’re so kind…uhm so…how was your day?” “It was good I finally got the box of Halloween stuff down from the attic.” “I told you’d I’d help you get it…all you had to do was wait for me.” “You know I don’t have the patience for that…how was your day?” “It was fine…Henderson’s mom’s minivan is a fucking nightmare to work on but I got it done.” “I swear she just messes with stuff to make it stop running just so she can come and see you.” “You’re so delusional…you ready?” “Yeah…let me grab my purse and we can go.” “Now before you say anything…I talked Rick into letting me borrow his car…figured your first date back on the town deserved something better than my run down van.” “Oh don’t be silly Eddie I love that van…uhm…Did you clean it?” “Oh course I did….as if I’d let you sit on anything that belongs to Rick without bleaching it first.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” “I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your wedding day…is that a bobby-pin in your hair?” “You’re so annoying…I just wanted to look nice…and yeah they keep my hair from falling out of the bun…” “sorry..you look good Eddie that’s all I’m trying to say.” “Thank you…you look nice too…I always like when you wear that shade of green…it makes your eyes stand out.” “So…what happens now? After the obligatory complements?” “We just talk you weirdo.” “Okay…uhm…oh do you remember when you knocked on my door for the first time when we were like eleven to ask me if I wanted to play?” “Yeah…you practically threw yourself off your steps and into my arms you were so excited.” “I just was so happy to finally have a friend…who would’ve thought we’d still be friends after all these years? It’s crazy right? Friends don’t normally last this long…we haven’t even had a real fight before.” “Uh excuse me? Yes we have.” “Don’t start.” “Don’t start? Why? Because you still know that I’m right and you refuse to admit it?” “You’re not right…you’re extremely wrong and I’ve proven it to you time and time again.” “He wasn’t the first kill because we don’t know if he was dead by the time she actually died.” “Of course he was dead! They gutted him from the back! She was alive way after he died.” “You’re just so wrong because it takes a long time for someone to bleed out like that…he was totally still alive when she was dying.” “I know you want to believe that she was the first death in Scream but she just wasn’t…she watches her boyfriend get killed that’s why she starts to freak the fuck out!” “No she freaks out because a killer is threatening her on the phone and she just watched her boyfriend get stabbed….not die.” “Edward James Munson you know damn well he was dead!” “Shhhh! This is a fancy ass establishment you can’t go shouting about dead people.” “I need another glass of wine…”

“What are we doing here?” “It wouldn’t be an outing for us if we didn’t make a pit stop at some swings…” “will you push me?” “Aren’t you too old to need me to push you?” “I don’t need you to push me Eddie…I just like it when you do.” “fine…so…how’s it going so far? Feel like you could do this again?” “I’d give it an eight out of ten…and yeah I think so…it’s not as scary as I thought it was going to be.” “You thought a date with me was going to be scary?” “I just…I was nervous.” “Why? It’s just me…nothing to be nervous about.” “That’s true…what about you? Could you do this again?” “Oh yeah…I could totally do this again…maybe not the swings though..that’s just an us thing.” “Damn right it is…I better not hear about you taking anyone else to the park besides me or I’ll be upset.” “You’re so dramatic after a few glasses of wine.” “You love it though.” “Yeah…I do.”

“Ah here we are…home sweet home…mind if I come inside?” “That’s so bold of you to ask on a first date Edward.” “I’ll pour you some more wine….” “Okay you can come in then….” “Red or white?” “White please…I had a really good time tonight…thank you.” “You’re welcome..I’m glad you had a good time…I enjoyed it as well…what? Why…why are you looking at me like that?” “Are…uhm…are you…are you in love with me?” “What? Why…why would you…uhm…I..uh-” “oh god-” “No no no don’t…don’t walk away…I just wasn’t…why did you ask me that?” “Just forget it…I’m sorry…it’s the wine…I’m not making sense…I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” “yes.” “Yes?…yes what?” “I’m in love with you.” “No you’re not.” “Yes…yes I am.” “No you’re not…you would’ve told me…you…you would’ve said something.” “I’m…saying something now…doesn’t that count?” “I…I don’t know…what to say.” “That’s okay.” “I can’t…I can’t do this Eddie I can’t…I-” “hey it’s okay…please don’t cry….” “I think.. I just uhm…I need some space…I’m gonna go-” “no no I’ll go..you stay here I’ll uhm go stay at Wayne’s…just…I’m sorry okay? I didn’t…I didn’t want to tell you like this….please know that I don’t expect anything in return I just…it’s out there now so…we have to deal with it.” “I can’t deal with it right now…” “and that’s fine…I’ll uh go to Wayne’s and…maybe I’ll come by tomorrow and…we can talk about it?” “I’ll call you.” “Okay…yeah that works too…uhm…goodnight?” “Goodnight…tell…tell Wayne I said…hello.” “Yeah I’ll uhm..I’ll do that.”

#trouble next door convos #trouble next door series #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson au #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #stranger things social media au #Eddie munson social media au #my little dungeon master baby

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

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𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕠𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.6k] | au masterlist

OCTOBER

The rain starts halfway through the first market of October. It comes without warning; a chilly Saturday with scattered clouds turns dark and the bite in the air seeps into your bones. The crowd thins in a matter of minutes despite the promise of a market rain or shine, since a summer rain can be something free and spontaneous. A fall rain is bound to end in a cold.

"Do you need help?" Joyce asks. It's barely started to drizzle but you can see the dark drops marking her jacket. "I think we can close early. Jonathan is almost done with the flowers, I'll send him over here --"

"No, I'm okay," you tell her. You shove candles and jars of honey into your crates with as much care as you can spare. The pickup is just around the corner and you can load everything yourself even if your back will feel it later. "Really, I'm sure other people can use the help more!" Joyce tuts but runs off. As soon as she does the rain picks up. You can feel it spray onto your face from the wind, feel it soak into the wool sweater you're wearing.

"Eddie --" you say, about to wave him off, but he picks up the other full crate at your feet.

"Keep packing or someone much meaner than me will come over to help you," he says, winking. "I'll put this in the New-Bee's pickup on my way out, okay?" He's off before you can get in a word of protest.

You decide to tackle the rest of the stock before bringing out another crate but your hands are shaking so much from the cold and your skin is wet and everything is wet and you're worried you're going to drop something. You manage to pack one more and are debating whether or not to bring it to the truck when you hear heavy footfalls in the rain behind you.

"I'm fine," you yell over the rain. There's no response so you turn and the sight punches a hole in your chest: it's Steve. He's soaked to the bone, just like you, but he looks like...like...well. His own sweater and flannel combo are weighed down with water and his jeans are a shade darker than usual. You feel a little warmer than you did a second ago.

He jerks his chin up in greeting and he reaches forward to gently grab your elbow. "We gotta go," he says. "I think there's gonna be lightning soon. And you're soaked." He takes in your chattering teeth and the crates around you like he's doing a calculation in his head.

"I gotta get the stock --" His palm is so warm even through your dripping sweater that you have to keep yourself from leaning into him.

He tugs on you gently. "Leave it."

"Steve, I made this stuff." The plea is pathetic in your ears and you wonder if he'll make fun of you for it. You really hope not, since you've been turning over what Dustin said to you for days and it's fair to say that Steve Harrington is a puzzle you want to figure out. If he lets you.

The warm hand on your elbow disappears and you expect him to storm off but he just scoops up the third crate you've finished filling and heads for the truck.

"Gee, thanks," you mutter, squatting to grab the stacks of candles for the last crate. You're really shaking now but you're trying to move fast, so when a peal of thunder finally tears through the air you're startled enough to drop one of the glass jars. It shatters and the candle wax inside rolls away.

You don't think as you start to pick up the shards of glass with your bare hands, don't consider that maybe it's a bad idea until you slice your palm with one.

"Shit!" you yell, staring helplessly as a thin line of blood wells and drips down your skin. It doesn't look deep but it hurts. A warm hand on your back almost sends you careening forward into your mess but another on your shoulder steadies you.

"Woah, what the fuck happened here?" Steve asks, harsh tone at odds with how he's touching you as he crouches down to examine the glass.

You are humiliated to feel tears gathering and your throat getting tight. "The thunder, I --. It startled me and I--"

"Are you bleeding?" He hauls you up and a few steps away from the glass before you can answer. Your hold your injured palm out in front of you like it'll bite but Steve is quick to grab your wrist gently when he notices you shaking. You sniffle and his eyes meet yours for just a second.

"Hey," he says so softly you can barely hear him over the rain. "Hey, it's fine. Lemme just --" He digs in his back pocket with his free hand before he produces a blue bandana.

"That better be clean," you grind out, hoping to regain control of the situation, but the words are thick in your throat. As it is, you feel entirely too caught up in Steve's orbit, in the warmth of his touch and the kindness in his gaze. He smirks as he wraps the cloth around your hand, tying it tight enough that it won't come off. You hiss and he winces.

"Sorry," he whispers. He clears his throat and releases you. "Just this left?" He taps the side of the last crate with his foot. You nod. Steve makes quick work of the rest of your stock before he picks it up and heads out into the rain. You glance at the glass you're leaving behind before heading after him. The rain is coming down harder and lightning flashes before another crack of thunder makes you jump again.

"Told you!" Steve shouts, tucking the tarp over the back for the last time before you both clamber into the front seats. The rain pounds on the roof and the windshield and you're both panting so hard the window starts to fog. Steve is shivering though trying to hide it, jaw clenched as he runs his hands through his sopping hair. You turn the truck on and blast the heat.

"Where's your car?" you ask. Your voice sounds louder now that it's just the two of you.

"Robin drove today." He angles one of the vents towards you. "She uh, took all the stuff back already."

"So you're stuck here?" You can't believe that she'd leave him on accident or even on purpose.

He shrugs. A drop of rain travels down this column of this throat and you swallow. "You needed help." He says it like it's obvious. Like you should expect him to stay through a storm just to be at your side.

"Okay," you say. "I'll-- I"ll drive you home." Steve looks at you like he's seconds away from laughing in your face.

"With that hand?" All at once the pain rushes back, the steady throb of the cut on your palm taking over. The bandana is as soaked as the rest of you so you can’t tell if you’re bleeding through it. "I don't think so," he snorts.

"Steve." It's the softest you've ever said his name and he all but flinches. "I don't want to fight with you."

"I--we're not fighting," he argues, then catches himself. "I don't want to fight with you either. So I'll ask nicely." He clasps his hands like a boy in church. "Please, oh please, will you let me drive?"

Part of you wants to refuse just to be difficult – and because you totally can drive one handed. But you decide right now, in the cab of your truck as it pours, to try with Steve, and maybe this is what trying looks like. Because he stayed in the rain to help you. Because you’re tired of convincing yourself you don’t want to like him. And well, because your hand really does hurt. "Fine," you sigh. "But I'm not going back out there." Stubborn to the last, your dad always says.

"I'll go over you," Steve says quickly. The cab of the pickup is big for Steve to barely brush your thighs as he hauls himself into the driver's seat but you're so close for just a few seconds that you feel your breath hitch. He's dripping wet like you are but you swear that you can feel the warmth that seems to emanate from him through the fabric.

"Does New-Bee's have a first aid kit? Or do you want to go to the hospital?" He adjusts the seat a little and pulls out of the parking lot in to deserted downtown Hawkins.

"Bob has one," you say. "I think that'll be fine." Would he actually drive you to the hospital if you wanted to go? Something tells you that he'd stay with you the whole time, too. It makes you shiver.

Steve eyes you. "Shouldn't take too long," he says. "Gotta drive a little slower in the rain." The thunder rumbles but it sounds far away now. He hits a bump and your hand smacks your own knee and you hiss.

"Green or red apples?" Steve asks suddenly.

"What?" He repeats the question. "Uh...green," you say. He nods.

"Same. Cats or dogs?"

"Both. Steve, why are you asking--"

"Really? You like cats? They're monsters, I swear. Get scratched every time I go near one." The questions continue. Tulips or daisies? Night or day? Sunrise or sunset? He seems delighted that you're playing along with his game, willing to tell him even small tidbits about yourself. You're both only children, both like morning, both hate spinach. He likes sunrises but you like sunsets, and he actually yells in outrage when you say you "can't stand ice cream."

"I always get a brain freeze!" He's waving his hand in the air like he's searching for the words.

"You're just eating it wrong, or something. Who doesn't like ice cream?" You laugh, the pain in your hand forgotten for the moment. Oh, you think. He's distracting you.

Steve pulls into New-Bee's and Bob's truck is missing. He must be out somewhere, maybe caught by the storm which is still raging, rain steady though not dangerous anymore.

"You're coming in, right?" you ask. He nods, once again running a hand through drying hair that's about to get wet again as if it’s a nervous habit. Maybe it is. But you don’t know why he’d be nervous.

"Ready?" He turns the car off and braces a hand on the door. "We can get the stuff later." You nod and he counts down on his fingers before you fling yourselves into the downpour, running towards the wide farmhouse covered porch. The cold is a shock and Steve grabs you mid-gasp, your uninjured hand in his as he hauls you up the steps and out of the rain. Your fingers feel frozen in his but you don't let go.

You start to laugh. Water pools at your feet and you're cold and your hand hurts and Steve is looking at you like you've lost your mind. But you laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

"What's so funny, honey?" Steve asks, incredulous. The nickname only makes you snort and laugh harder. It sounded so sour coming from him just last week and now it's sweet, now he's grinning at the noise you're making. "Besides, me, clearly," he adds before he starts laughing too. It occurs to you that this might be flirting.

"Steve," you gasp between laughs, "you hate me." He stops laughing but you keep going until you smack your hand on your knee again, and this time it hurts so much it brings tears to your eyes immedietly. Steve hisses like he's the one who's hurting.

"I don't hate you," he says, almost as an afterthought. "Can I see your hand, please?" You hold it out without hesitation. Something has changed between you but you can't exactly pinpoint what or when -- just that now you're offering yourself to him easy as anything.

This time his touch burns, callused fingertips and wide palms overwhelming as one gently unties the bandana and cradles your palm. He whistles long and low. He pulls it gently to his face and you bite your lip because it has been so long since someone touched you like this, with care, with attention.

"I want to see it under some light but I don't think there's any glass in it. And it's not deep enough for stitches. And it’s only bleeding a little bit." He’s rambling.

"Do you do this a lot?" you ask.

He's still looking at your hand but manages some sarcasm. "What, play doctor?"

You flush. Definetly flirting. "Steve."

"Nah," he sighs, letting you go. You shiver again. "I've seen lots of small injuries working at Sara's for so long. Let's go inside, okay?"

The front door is unlocked as usual and as soon as it smacks closed behind you the rain starts to pound harder. "Can I drive you back when it calms down?" you ask him as you tug off your soaked boots.

"Sss-ure." Steve fails to hide his shiver. "Where's the first-aid kit?" You wave for him to follow you to the upstairs bathroom.

"I bet I have some stuff you can change into, if you want." He's going to get sick if he stands around in his soaked clothes much longer.

"Hand first."

"I can do it myself, Steve," you say over your shoulder on the stairs.

He smirks. "I'm sure you can."

The bathroom is big enough that you can both stand in front of the sink, the first-aid kit open on the counter next to you. You allow Steve to examine your palm in the dull light, keeping your eyes on the ceiling. Something tells you that looking at him or your hand might not be such a good idea right now.

"I'm just not as good with new people as I thought," he says, picking up on the abandoned conversation from the porch. He rubs an alcohol wipe along your cut and you scrunch up your nose, eyes pricking. You don't want him to see you almost cry again. "There hasn't been anyone new here in a long time. So I just... we got off on the wrong foot." You don't say anything. You feel him start to wrap the gauze and deem it safe to look down.

"I don't hate you," he repeats, eyes on your hand. "That's what I'm saying."

"I don't hate you either," you say softly. Steve looks at you then, eyes warm and hair damp, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin.

"Fooled me." He secures your bandage with a satisfied hum. "You said something about dry clothes?"

He follows you down the hall to your bedroom. Steve doesn't comment on the bare of your walls, the way your suitcases are out as if you're going to use them at any second. His eyes linger on the numerous candles on your vanity. The bottom drawer of your dresser is full of New-Bee's branded clothing that Bob has given you, soft things you've taken to sleeping in. A pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt should work, and you hand them to him.

"Thanks." He turns on his heel to return to the bathroom.

"Bring me your wet stuff and I'll throw it in the dryer!" you call after him before stripping out of your own soaked clothes, the damp denim of your jeans making a wet sound on the floor. Soft pants and a favorite hoodie fill you with welcome warmth as the rain continues to thud on the glass panes of your windows. You almost run into Steve in the hallway on your way to the closet with the dryer and you have to swallow a lump in your throat at the sight of him.

He's --. Well, he's in your clothes, barefoot in your hallway. To see him this way feels intimate in a way you don't know how to handle and it makes your heart do something funny in your chest.

"These are comfy," he says. His hair is a mess and you're staring and for some reason his cheeks are pink.

"You can have them," you tell him without thinking. Oh god, you think. Where did that come from? "I can get more from Bob, anyway." You pull open the washing closet and he throws his stuff in the dryer alongside yours. Your traitorous brain wonders if he's still wearing his underwear.

"Well, now what?" He looks at you through damp bangs, arms crossed. He looks softer than you ever thought him capable of being.

"This will take like, half an hour maybe? So I guess you have to hang out with me until then." He groans and you swat his arm, the venom from your first meeting nowhere to be found. Steve heads back towards your bedroom as you finish setting the dryer and you find him sniffing some of the glass jars he'd been eyeing earlier.

"These smell great," he tells you, eyes fluttering as he inhales one labeled evergreen/lavender. "You made 'em?"

"Yeah." You sit down on the edge of your bed. "Test batches for new scents."

"Still burning your fingers?" He looks at your hands, one bandaged by his own and the other curling into your blankets. You shake your head, remembering how he'd come to talk to you at the market, how his gaze had darkened when he noticed your fingers.

"What were you going to ask me last week?" you ask. He sets down the candle and straddles your vanity chair so that he's facing you.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, well." Maybe he doesn't remember. "I just-- before those kids of yours showed up, you were going to ask me something."

"You remember that?"

"I pay attention." The to you goes unsaid but seems to float in the air between you nonetheless.

"Oh," Steve says. He crosses his arms on top of the chair and sets his chin on them. "I was going to ask you to uh, hang out? But looks like that is happening right now."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so excited," he grumbles. You roll your eyes. "Uh, Nancy is gonna be in town this week and we're gonna have a Friday night...thing. By the lake."

"Steve," you say. You feel warm, warmer than you have all day. Because he wants to hang out, wants to be friends. And he has, maybe this whole time. "I don't know who Nancy is."

"She's Mike's -- the tall kid you met -- older sister. Jonathan's girlfriend. She's at school but she's coming back for her little sister's birthday. Holly, she's a real sweetheart--"

"Okay," you say.

"Okay?" he parrots. "You don't even want to know who will be there?"

"Careful, Steve. It sounds like you don't want me to come after all." He laughs.

"No, no, I want you to come. Now can I ask you something?" You nod, crossing your legs and his eyes follow your movements. "What did Brenda say to you? A few weeks ago, before we, uh...fought again."

It seems to be a day of catching each other off guard. "Does it matter what she said?" He taps his fingers in a random pattern on your chair.

"I just wanna know." His eyes are dark, his expression guarded. You can feel the walls you've only just broken down start to rebuild and you're desperate to keep them at bay. But you don't want to lie to him. Not while he's in your bedroom in your clothes after the day you've had together.

"She...she told me to be wary of you." His eyebrows raise and his jaw tightens. "She said you uh, broke a lot of hearts in high school."

"Why did she say that to you?" Now that is a truth you are not going to tell him. That she caught you staring.

"Dunno," you mutter.

"Is that why?" he asks. "Why we didn't get along? Why you were so mad that day?" How can you tell him it's because he makes your brain fuzzy, because you were hurt that he judged you so fast? That you did the exact same thing to him?

"I don't--. No." You rub your face with one hand. "Steve, I don't even know her. I don't know why she said that to me--"

"It's true," he interrupts. "I was an asshole back then. I guess I still am," he adds. "I guess I haven't changed a ton, based on how I was to you. How I am to you." He snorts and it's a harsh sound.

"Steve," you begin. "Steve, look, you said it yourself. We got off on the wrong foot and I was as much a part of that as you --"

"You don't have to defend me. You have no reason to." Why does it feel like this is turning into a fight? “That’s just my story, I guess. And everyone knows it.”

"I don't think I understand --"

The dryer beeps and he's out of your room in a flash. How have you lost track of the conversation so quickly?

"Steve," you say. "Steve, wait a second." He's in the hallway pulling his clothes out and shoving them into a paper bag he's found on the shelf. He won't look at you.

"I think I better just go. I don't...I don't want to fight again." The rain has all but stopped without your noticing.

"Then don't fight with me! Steve, come on, I'll drive you. It's bound to rain again and you'll get sick. This is a stupid idea!"

"Yeah, well," he mutters. "That's never stopped me before. See you later. Uh, thanks." He holds up the paper bag with his dry clothes as he shoves his bare feet into his boots. And then he's out the door.

"What the fuck just happened?" you say out loud to yourself in the empty kitchen.

____

It's frustration and embarrassment that keeps you from chasing after Steve. From going to see him at Sara's that night and on Sunday. You spend the rest of the weekend furiously making candles only to realize you've just made batch after batch of the one Steve picked up in your room -- an evergreen and lavender scent. Your hand doesn't hurt anymore, the cut already healing into a thin scabbed line underneath the bandaids you keep on it.

"Not that I'm complaining," Bob says when you bring the finished jars into the farmhouse on Monday morning. "But what's the fixation on this candle? You've made enough for three farmer's markets at least."

"Bob," you sigh. "I think I messed up but I don't know why." You and Bob talk most days when you run into each other in the house, but you hardly speak to him about non-farm matters. And yet, who else do you have to turn to? You don't think you can call anyone to talk about Steve, since everyone knows him, and you feel silly about the whole situation as is.

"And candles are going to fix it?" he teases. You groan and he claps you on the back gently. "Listen, kiddo. I know you've had a rough go of it and that Hawkins might not have sold you yet. But you're finding your way. And I know that you've made quite the impression on a few folks already." He picks up one of the candles you're labeling and smells it. "How about you take some of these over to Sara's? Give 'em a few and see if Hop wants to put some up in the store on the property."

Your boss eyes you as you feel your cheeks heat and you shift from foot to foot. "Sure, Bob," you tell him. You realize you have no idea what Steve does during the week, let alone on a Monday. It's time to find out.

You rehearse an apology on the drive to Sara's Farm. "What do I have to apologize for?" you mutter as you the truck bumps down the long drive. But urge to get back the Steve that padded around your room barefoot in borrowed clothes is stronger than your stubbornness. The property itself is huge -- much bigger than New Bee's. There are multiple barns that look well-built and maintained along one side of the fields and on the other you see a variety of livestock grazing. A bright blue chicken coop is next to the small farm store and the farm house sits charmingly in front of what looks to be rows and rows of trees. You wonder where Steve lives.

The farm store is empty of customers on a Monday morning but it's full of beautiful produce and goods: bags of apples of all colors, cherries, and sunflowers. Root vegetables and fresh eggs sit next to baked goods you have a feeling El is responsible for. There are t-shirts and hand-painted canvas bags and flower arrangements with the Byers Flowers tag on them. At the register sits a man you've never met but know on sight -- Jim Hopper. Former police chief, current farmer and collector of wayward individuals, if you've got the story right. That's how Steve ended up here, anyway.

"Uh, hi?" you say. Hopper looks up from a tattered paperback but he doesn’t spook.

"Hello," he drawls. "You here from Bob's place?" He jerks his chin at the New-Bee's bag you're carrying full of your candles.

"I--yeah." You introduce yourself and he sucks on his teeth and stands, gesturing for the bag.

"You're the new girl Harrington talks about," he says. "I'm Hop. Welcome to Hawkins." Your brain is trying to make sense of what he's saying. Steve...talks about you? It's not that strange considering you have been a massive pain in his ass on purpose but still.

"I've been here almost a month," you blurt out. Hopper looks at you over the candle he's smelling. It's a look that says: I know what you’re really here for.

"Belated welcome, then," he says. "You make these?" You nod. "They smell great. I'll call Bob and tell him we'll stock 'em."

You look at your shoes as if they're suddenly very interesting. "Is uh, Steve here?" Hopper sighs and wipes a hand across his face as he mutters something that sounds like damn kids.

"Not today," he replies but offers no details. Your fists clench in your pockets because something about this feels rehearsed. "Hey," Hopper says and you look up. "Maybe if you bring some more candles tomorrow he'll be here."

But when you return the next day with a full crate of candles you find El and the boy you remember as Mike sitting behind the counter. El grins when she sees you and calls out your name. Mike whispers something in her ear.

"Hi El, Mike. Where can I put this?" Mike hurries around the counter to take it from you. There's a clear set of shelves right by the register that he starts to fill.

El rests her head in her hands and smiles at you. "Dad said you'd come by today. That color is really pretty on you." You're wearing a deep green sweater under a denim jacket.

You wink at her and she giggles. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Parent-teacher conferences," Mike says. "Hop's there so we get to run the store today." He carefully lines up all the candles so the labels face outwards. El watches his every movement.

"Are your other friends here?" A screech from outside floats in through the open window followed by what sounds like Max's laughter.

"They're supposed to be collecting eggs," El says. "But the rooster doesn't like Dustin very much."

"And, uh..." You examine a jar of strawberry jam. "Is Steve here? Your dad said he might be." Her eyes are soft as she chews on her response and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"He told me to tell you that he's not here," she says. Mike looks at her with fond exasperation.

"El, I don't think we were supposed to say it like that."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "Steve is being silly and Max and I won't be a part of it. So be glad she's outside because she'd be less nice than me." She looks at you, mouth twisted in a grimace. "I don't know where he is today but if you come back tomorrow maybe you'll catch him."

"Great," you mutter. "He's avoiding me." You blow a raspberry to keep your frustration at bay. "Here's some free life advice, Mike." He looks at you warily. "Don't avoid girls. They'll find you." He sputters and El cackles.

And you fully intend to catch Steve sooner rather than later because this is getting ridiculous. Wednesday morning finds you driving over to Sara's yet again. No candles this time, but you have a plan: search every inch of the damn property for this ridiculous boy and make him talk to you. Because you don't want all of this to be for nothing -- the thing between you that changed from something cold and hurtful to something that made you look forward to seeing him. That, and you want to go the hang-out on Friday without things being awkward.

You bypass the store completely and head for the orchard. It's a bitter cold day, the first one in a while, and you should have worn gloves. As it is you're shivering in your jeans and long-sleeve layered under a the same sweater as yesterday and a flannel and a jacket. The tip of your nose feels like Jack Frost himself blew on it and you're rubbing it when you almost crash into someone popping out of a row of apple trees.

"Hey!" says Robin, arms reaching out to steady you. "You okay?" She looks as cold as you but she's smart enough to be wearing a beanie. You haven't seen her recently, haven't talked to her one-on-one since your first meeting in the library. You wonder if Steve told her what happened.

"Wasn't watching where I was going, sorry." You sigh but Robin's friendly energy tamps down your frustration. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know," she sing-songs. "No classes today, so I'm here to help a bit with apple picking. If you want advice on the best varietals right now I'm your girl. Hopper made us memorize an entire list this year. I think I know more about apples than I ever wanted to." She digs into her cargo pants pocket and pulls out a huge red fruit. "Good breakfast though!" The crunch of her bite makes you smile and she tries to say something through a mouthful of fruit.

"Robin, don't choke!" She rolls her eyes and makes a show of chewing before trying again.

"Are you coming on Friday night?" she asks. "Nancy is psyched to meet you and Eddie won't stop bothering me about hanging out with you and Steve --" She groans like his very name is a chore to say. "Well, I bet you're here to see Steve, right?"

You chew on your lip before responding. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"Sounds like a classic case of Steve getting stuck in his own head and being a jerk. But that's just my opinion." Robin rocks back and forth on her heels and takes another bight of the apple.

"I wanted to apologize but I don't really know what I'm apologizing for," you admit. "I think we were about to become friends."

She hums. "Well, he's in the orchard a few rows that way." She points in the direction you were heading. "Just listen for the radio playing Springsteen really loudly. And please, please come on Friday." She pulls you in for a hug so quick you don't get the chance to return it and darts off back towards the farm store. You listen hard and hear some music in the distance so you head towards it, you cold hands shoved in your pockets.

"I'm dyin' for some action," a voice carries over the orchard. "Sick of sittin' round here tryin' to write this book." You quicken your pace along the openings in the rows of trees, head craned to glance down each one in search of Steve. "I need a love reaction," he sings and you try very hard to keep a hold on your frustration. "Come on now, baby, give me just one look---"

It gets harder when you find him at the top of a ladder. The radio is loud from its place in the dirt and he's pulling apples from the top of a tree and tossing them into a cloth bag. Stock for the farm store, you guess. You're content to watch him, drinking your fill after a few days without a glance. The realization that you missed him is a sudden one that has you rubbing at your chest. But its not the ache that you’re so used to – it’s something entirely different. What is this boy doing to you?

As if he hears you thinking, Steve turns over his shoulder mid-singing and spots you. His eyes widen and his cheeks color even more -- he's already flushed from the cold and his efforts -- and he starts down the ladder. "Bee girl," he calls. "Fancy seeing you here." He skips the last few rungs and hops onto the ground to turn the radio down. You realize that he's wearing overalls over a soft green sweater that matches your own. He's not wearing gloves either and his ears are pink and you want to touch him and -- wait, what?

"You've been avoiding me, Steve," you say, your heart beating entirely too fast.

"How's your hand?" he asks. "You keeping it clean?" You hold up your palm so he can see the bandaids there.

"It's fine. Steve, I said you're been avoiding me--"

"Yeah," he admits. "I'm sorry."

"I-- what? Really?" You've come ready to argue again, ready to stand your ground and tell him he's been unfair.

"Really. Did you...not expect me to apologize?" He frowns. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just got in my head about stupid stuff. About the way other people think of me, all that shit." He digs his hands into his overall pockets. "And I took it out on you. So, I'm sorry. I uh, I won't do it again. I swear."

"Oh," you breathe. "Well, then." You laugh a little and Steve smiles hesitantly. "I was ready to fight. Tell you to stop being such a stubborn asshole and talk to me." He grimaces.

"I was embarrassed, actually," he says. "I mean, a girl from high school tells you the truth and I get shitty about it? Not a good look." He takes a casual step towards you to inspect a branch of the tree you're standing by. "I just feel like you're getting all the worst parts of me."

You snort. In the days you've spend thinking about him, you know that's not true. He's stubborn and he's quick to defend and he's possessive. Steve is all of that, but he's also funny and kind and helpful and loyal. You'd be silly not to admit that to yourself. You hope he can see those things, too. "I want to be your friend, Steve," you tell him. His head snaps up to look at you. His eyes are warm and the corner of his mouth curls up.

"I want to be your friend, too," he says softly. A cool wind rushes down the row of trees and his ladder shakes. "Is that safe?" you ask, shivering a little.

"Yeah, it's better when I'm on it, actually --" He notices you shake. "You're cold." He steps forward to rub his hands up and down your arms. When he catches your fingers he hisses. "You gotta wear gloves, honey," he says. The nickname seems to slip out without his notice. It sounds different than when he said it in jest on your porch. It's sweeter than you imagined it would be now that he seems to mean it, almost sweeter than you can handle. "You should go back to the store and make Wheeler give you some free cider."

"Do you want to come?" you ask. Just minutes ago you were ready to fight with him and now you don't want him to stop touching you, stop being near you. This boy is giving you whiplash.

"I gotta keep going out here or Hop will feed me to the chickens." He looks almost pained to send you off alone. "But I'll see you Friday? Are you okay with Eddie picking you up?"

You nod. "Yeah. I'll be there." You eye the ladder again. "Be careful, Steve. I don't need my new friend falling out of a tree!" His laugh warms you all the way to your toes.

Time passes impossibly slowly for the rest of the week. But then it's 7 pm and you're waiting for Eddie to pick you up and you're excited. Over a month in this town and you're finally feeling like you've got your feet under you -- you've got friends and they want to hang out with you and you're making things you’re proud of and you feel good. The night is chilly and you're sure to shove a hat and gloves in your bag along with some marshmallows.

A car honks and you almost trip over yourself on the way out the door. Eddie sits in a van that looks like it's on its last legs. You can hear the music blasting but he turns it down as you climb in.

"It smells like mushrooms in here," you say. He laughs and backs out of the New-Bee drive.

"Usually smells like weed." He winks at you. "I think the 'shrooms smell better. Earthy, ya know?"

"Whatever you say." You're about to start basic small talk when he clicks his tongue loudly.

"So, you and Harrington, huh?" he asks. You try to keep your expression neutral but your eyebrows lose the battle and raise to your hairline.

"Me and Harrington, what, Eddie?"

"I don't know sweetheart, you tell me."

You fiddle with the heat nob. "He's not that bad, I guess." Eddie laughs again. He's a joyful dude.

"Told you so," he sings. "Glad you came around, or I think he'd have blown a gasket starting at you all the time." You look out the window. It feels like things have gone from zero to 100 in the span of a week. Loathing for Steve turned to frustration turned to something warmer, something softer. You want to know him. You want to understand him and to talk to him and to figure out what makes him tick. And you want him to know you.

Eddie spares you more talk of Steve and instead regales you with stories of his band and his odd boss at the mushroom farm, Rick. You deduce that in addition to selling mushrooms legally and weed a little less so, Eddie is perhaps the sweetest, strangest boy you've ever met.

The lake, Lover's Lake, you remember, is dark and you have to walk down a small bluff to get to the bonfire. Steve doesn't seem to be there yet but Robin, Jonathan, and a girl you assume is Nancy all cheer when you arrive.

"There she is!" Robin cries. You pull out the marshmallows. "And she brings snacks!"

"Steve should have the graham crackers and chocolate when he gets here," Jonathan says. "Glad you made it."

"I'm Nancy," the girl next to him says. She's bundled in an Emerson sweatshirt and a jacket you've seen Jonathan wear before. "It's so good to meet the one who seems to be looking after these guys when I'm not around." She pats the spot next to her and you settle in between her and Robin.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you say. "I'm just the new girl in town."

"The new girl in town that we are obsessed with!" Robin adds. "She's great, Nance. An expert in bees already, too. The candles she makes are beautiful." You're starting to feel like a product Robin is trying to sell.

"It's true," Jonathan says. "The kids love her, too."

"Kids," Nancy scoffs. "Mike drove us here, Jonathan. They're hardly kids anymore."

"Your brother is sweet," you say. "And Steve said it's your sister's birthday? I hope you're having fun being home for that." Nancy smiles softly and leans into Jonathan. The easy affection between them makes your chest ache.

"I always love coming home," she tells you. "Hawkins is a special place full of special people." Her smile turns to a smirk. "Though I've heard you've become well acquainted with one of them."

Eddie snorts. He's already got a marshmallow on a stick over the fire. "That's one way to put it, Wheeler." You bury your face in your hands and groan.

"We're friends now, I swear!" you say. "He just pissed me off at first."

"He was an asshole, you mean," Robin corrects fondly. "Oh, Steve. We love him, don't get me wrong. But you were a sight to behold, putting him in his place like you did."

"I really wish I was there for that," Nancy sighs. "But seriously, I'm glad you're friends now and that he asked you to hang out with us. I was going to make Robin do it if Steve didn't get his act together --"

"Munson!" a voice interrupts. "Can't you wait for the rest of the s'mores stuff?" Eddie's marshmallow is now on fire as he greets Steve with a sheepish grin.

"Grocery store is a mess tonight," he says, dropping two plastic bags on the ground by your wood log benches. He's got a thermos tucked under one arm. And -- you swear you gasp just a little bit -- he's in a beanie. "I got graham crackers, chocolate, beer, and warm cider for anyone who doesn't want beer." He passes the six pack to Robin and she, Nancy, and Jonathan take one. Eddie looks between you and Steve and the thermos like he's trying to solve a puzzle before he takes a beer, too.

"Guess this is for you and me, bee girl," Steve says. Robin scoots over and Steve settles next to you on the wood, his thigh pressing warm into yours. "Hey," he says quietly, just to you.

"Hey yourself," you reply. It's no longer a surprise that you're so glad to see him. Eddie starts to ask Nancy about the big city and Steve cracks open the thermos and pulls out two chipped mugs from one of the plastic bags. You take one and his bare fingers brush against yours, warm as always.

"Did you bring gloves?" he asks, pouring hot cider into your mug. "And a hat?"

"Why, you gonna give me yours if I didn't?" you tease. He grins and your stomach swoops.

"Nah," he says. "I forgot my gloves, so I'm just making sure I can steal yours later."

"Wait, I brought blankets!" Eddie runs back to his van to grab them and tosses one to you and Steve. You hold his mug as he wraps it around you both, the thermos held between his legs.

"No need to steal my gloves," you say softly. He snorts a little.

"So," Nancy begins. "I hope I'm not prying, but can you tell me how exactly you ended up in Hawkins?"

"Oh," you say. "Uh." The cider is warm when you take a sip. You wonder if Steve made it himself before coming over here. "There's not much of a story, really." Robin gently knocks your foot with hers and Steve's thigh presses into you even more. "My folks wanted me to go to college so I did. But I didn't like it and I didn't want to waste money so I asked if I could uh, drop out."

"Badass," Eddie says. Nancy shushes him.

"I don't know what I want to do with my life," you continue. "And we had a connection to Bob and my parents told me to try the total opposite of college which is working on a bee farm, I guess. So, I'm just trying to figure it out." You take another sip of your cider. “Start a new story, or something.”

"I'll drink to that," Jonathan mutters. You laugh and it's echoed around the fire. He starts to tell a story about his classes at community college and you pull the blanket tighter around you. Steve is warm at your side and you glance at him. There's no use pretending that he's anything short of beautiful. You've thought so since you first saw him, even when he made you see red. But in the firelight and his hat he looks soft, young, happy. You trace the line of his jaw with your gaze and look away only when you realize you're staring at his lips. On the other side of him, Robin grins at you.

"Who wants to skip rocks?" she says. You realize you have no idea what's been said the last few minutes. She stands up and tugs Nancy from your side. "Come on," she says to the boys.

"Not on your life, Buckley," Steve says, but she's already down the bank with the others. "I hope no one falls in," he grumbles.

"Don't be such a grump," you tease. "They can handle themselves."

"It's too cold." Steve pouts exaggeratedly and you reach up to tug on his beanie.

"Thank you for inviting me, Steve," you say softly. "I'm having a nice time and it's...nice to have friends." His pout turns into something a little more real and his eyebrows furrow. "I like Hawkins a lot. I've just felt kind of adrift, if that makes sense?"

"I didn't help," he sighs. "I made it worse, I'm sure. I'm sorry for --"

"But you're helping now," you say. You put your hand on his knee and he inhales sharply. "No more apologies needed."

"I like the candles that you made," he blurts out. “The new ones that we’re stocking at Sara’s.” You smack your lips and keep your hand where it is.

"How did you know I made them?"

"You told me, just now." He's teasing but his face is flushed. His eyelashes look impossibly long. "Nah, I knew. You're a candle wiz. Even if you're clumsy." He eyes the hand that isn't on his knee, the one that you cut. You hold it up to show him, just like you did on Wednesday in the orchard. You feel bold under his gaze, bold in the darkness with your new friends laughing down at the shoreline. Bold because you've gone from being alone to being wanted in the span of a week and it feels good.

"I made them because you were smelling that one in my bedroom," you confess. "The evergreen lavender tester."

Steve's face does something complicated, like he's sorting through how he should feel about this. "Aren't you observant," he mutters, but it's teasing. His eyes catch your gaze again and this time he's searching for something. Then his hand settles over yours on his knee and you're worried he's going to pull it off.

"Can I try something?" he asks. "You can tell me to go fuck myself if you don't like it." The memory of your first meeting makes you laugh but it comes out as a nervous giggle because Steve is leaning in. He's leaning in and the crack of the fire and the laughter by the lake is drowned out by the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You close your eyes and wait to be kissed.

Steve is warm everywhere. His hand on yours, the line of his body as he turns into you, the palm that frees itself from the blanket to cup your jaw. He breathes into the small space between you for just a second too long and you decide to close the gap. He gasps against your lips and it's such a sweet sound that you smile. It's a soft kiss, sweet and hesitant. His lips are gentle but the hand on your face suggests that he could take control at any point, that he's letting you decide how long to keep this up.

You linger, pulling away only to lean back in for another quick peck against Steve's growing grin. You can't help it.

"C'mere," Steve says, tugging you into a hug. A first kiss has never felt so enormous, so monumental. You hide your face in his neck. "You don't taste like honey, honey," he says into your hair. "I feel kind of cheated."

You pinch his thigh and he yelps.

"We're friends, huh?" you say, knowing that you're crossing a line that maybe you can't come back from. And it's a dangerous move because you know right there, in the cold October night by the fire with his hand on your face and a blanket around you both that you could love him. It would be so easy. He could be your home if you wanted him to be. And that's terrifying.

"We're whatever you want," Steve replies.

___

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird @mrs-dr-reid @toomanyacorns @darlingoctober @selfdeprecatingnerd @dullsocietyy @keep-drivng @shireentapestry @mintfrostflower @freezaz123

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#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #no good at waiting

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light-yaers · 2 years

Text

Lover: Chapter Two

Chapter List | AO3 | Fic Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol and substance abuse, eventual sex/smut, mentions of death/cancer. 18+

A/N: i’m milking fluffy conrad for all he’s got before emo angst asshole conrad comes out to play and i’m not sorry about it!!!!

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Two: the dress.

“You’re in my room this summer,” Conrad said on your way up the stairs. You were tracking in sea water through the house. You silently apologised to Susannah, wherever she was now.

“How come?”

“Belly and Jere took his room. Steven’s in Belly’s old room. Laurel’s coming next week with Cleveland so they’re in Steven’s usual room. The guest room is full of—,” he stopped, swallowing slightly. “Mom’s old stuff. Stuff that we need to sort through, you know?”

You nodded once, not needing any further explanation.

“And well,” he continued. “No one’s in her room, so,”

“I get it,” you said reassuringly. The two of you stopped on the landing. “Where are you sleeping then?”

Your question is answered when Conrad opens the door to his room. A mattress lies on the floor, new sheets on both the bed and the space on the floor. You immediately suck in a breath and go to protest.

“Conrad—,”

“You’re a guest—,” he argued.

“No, I’m fucking not. This is your house. You take the goddamn bed. I’ll cosy up on the floor,” you suggested forcefully. The last thing you ever wanted was for them to put themselves out for you, not when it’s been this long, not ever.

You walk into the room, looking at the familiar blue walls and assortment of sailing trophies. Conrad always was a star.

“No way in hell am I letting you sleep on the floor after five years away,” he says, and it sounds final. You still feel uncomfortable, turning around to send him a frown.

“But—,”

“No buts,” he says.

“But—,”

He comes forward, placing cold hands upon your sopping shoulders with a smile. “No. Buts. Okay?”

His eyes have always been this big, such a deep shade of brown that you could easily fall into. They make a space warmer with the rays they reflect. You’d forgot how easy it was to lose yourself while looking into his face. Conrad was a man of little words when he didn’t feel like talking, but his face could always tell a thousand stories.

“Fine,” you give in finally. “But I won’t object to you sleepily flopping into the bed next to me if you need to, okay?” you say jokingly, his face flashes with a hint of something you’d never seen before—embarrassment, shyness, maybe? A few water droplets fall on you from his arms. “Just...” you push him away slowly. “Not if you’re sopping wet and salty,”

“Noted,” he agreed, moving past you to the chest of drawers. He opened the second drawer, pulling out some fresh clothes. You suddenly remembered your bags, downstairs.

“I’m just gonna grab my bags from the car,” you said, thankful that the keys were still in your fucking pocket, despite the dip in the ocean.

“I’ll get them,” Conrad said happily, striding forward and all but grabbing the keys from your hands without asking. You stutter immediately, like an engine stopping and starting, from just how startled you are at his host-like behaviour.

“You don’t have—,” you start.

“Shut up!” he yells slightly, as he whisks past you to the door, throwing his clean clothes on his bed and ducking out of the room. You’re amazed, letting out a scoff as he starts on the stairs.

“Conrad Fisher!” you yell.

“You’re welcome!” he yells, and then he’s gone; out the front door and into the boot of your airport rental car with a huge fuck off smile on his smug face.

The Conrad Fisher here is so different to the one you saw five years ago. It wasn’t his fault—Susannah had just died, his father was being a dick at the funeral, and the obvious rough patch occurring between him, Belly and Jeremiah was palpable.

You’d wanted to ask him what had happened back then, what was going on, but when you’d tried it had all blown up in your face.

The fight you had that night with Conrad hadn’t been your finest moment; nor his. It was lethal, it was personal and rude, it was heart breaking to hear from another room, let alone be part of the screaming match.

When you’d travelled back home to the UK after the fight, you and Conrad didn’t call each other for three years. No birthday messages, no FaceTimes, no talk of you ever returning to the Cousins house.

You’d dived into your studies, the same as him. Jere and Belly moved in together in New York, leaving Conrad alone in Boston, since he moved to an online degree. Shayla mostly travelled out to see Steven in NY, instead of the other way round. Conrad was alone; without his mother; without his brother; without his friends.

Without you.

Which is what prompted him to call you one night, after one too many drinks.

The shrill ringtone of your phone erupted just after 8am in the morning. You stirred in your bed, stretching, and wondering who the hell was calling this early on a Sunday. When you finally reached over and grabbed your phone, seeing Conrad’s name made your heart stop.

You sat up immediately, suddenly wide awake. You let the phone ring for a few more seconds, until you finally picked it up. You raised it to your ear.

“Conrad?” you said hesitantly. You could hear him breathing on the other end of the line immediately.

“You’re still alive, then,” he replied, not even trying to hide a certain distain within his tone. You ignored his words, knowing that his walls were all the way up.

When Conrad Fisher felt vulnerable, he was a fucking asshole.

“What time is it there?” you asked, counting on your fingers the time difference. “Three o’clock in the morning?” you chided.

“Five past the hour, actually,” he responded. “The night got away from me again,” he trails off. You stayed silent on the line, listening to each other’s beathing, wondering what to fucking say, wondering if you should speak first.

You could imagine him well. Sat at home in Boston, one lamp on in the living room, shirt unbuttoned haphazardly and sweat dotted on his brow from drunkness. There’s an almost empty bottle of white wine in his hand; he’s swilling the contents and wondering if he should drink while you’re on the line.

He chose not to.

“Why are you calling me?” you finally ask, whispering. A frown makes its way onto your face.

Conrad breathes out heavily. “Do I need a reason to call a good friend?”

You immediately know he’s lying, trying to manipulate you into apologising for the fight three years ago. You swallow back your nerves.

“You and I both know that’s not true, Conrad,” you replied. “We haven’t talked in three years,”

“Who’s counting anyway?” he scoffs, and it’s laced with something painful that hits you through the phone.

“I am,” you replied sternly, closing your eyes suddenly to calm yourself down. “If you really want to talk to me, then don’t be drunk next time you fucking call, Conrad,”

“Okay,” he replied immediately, before hanging up without so much as a goodbye.

You wondered if your words had even been heard by him, if he even wanted to call you in the first place, or was just driven to by the drink.

Your question is answered when he calls back in the evening. You pick up on the second ring.

“Not drunk,” is the first thing he said, and this time you could feel his smile down the phone. Conrad was always overly good at not being embarrassed by himself.

“You listened,” you replied, leaning against your kitchen counter.

“I did,” his voice is softer this time, like he’s not trying to force himself to be heard. He knows you’re listening, he knows you’re there. “I’m sorry. For everything. For the fight after Mom’s funeral,”

The breath hitched in your throat then, replaced with a bubbling sadness and happiness all rolled into one. Three fucking years of no contact and one of you finally pulled the plug and just apologised.

Well... he’d been worse. He’d been viler than you. You deserved his apology.

“I miss you,” he added suddenly, and all you could do was whack a hand over your mouth. Tears began forming behind your eyes, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep them at bay for long.

You took in a shaky breath. “I miss you too, Connie. So fucking much,”

“I’m so fucking sorry—,”

“So am I, God—so am I,” you’re both wailing now, apologising over each other’s apology, both trying to hold back tears. You talked for hours. You spoke about life, about Jeremiah and Belly, Steven, whoever else was relevant to you both.

When you finally hung up, you burst into tears. There was nothing more you wanted to do than jump on a plane to Boston and go and see him, but that was impossible.

“Babe?” a voice pierced through the walls of your college house, hitting your ears and immediately making you jump. “Are you coming to bed?”

Your boyfriend, at that time.

You squeezed your phone uncomfortably.

“Gimme a second!” you called up to him. Before going to him, you opened your phone and sent a text to Conrad.

See you next Summer.

You never made it the next summer. Circumstances had got in the way. You were apologetic on the phone with Conrad, but you knew he was hurting. His voice had gone blunt, cutting off his emotions before they could actually make him feel anything.

So now, standing in his room, sopping wet, as he lugged your bags up the stairs with bare feet and a bare chest and the biggest fucking smile you’d ever seen donned on his face—

You couldn’t believe it.

“Is this really all you brought?” Conrad said jokingly, reappearing and dropping your two bags onto his bed. “You know you’re here for two months right?”

“I’m perfectly happy to live in my bathing suit, okay?” you quipped. “Also—the washing machine is a thing that people use. You know? The white circular things where you can wash laundry?”

Conrad leaned down and grabbed his clothes, bumping you playfully on his way back up to standing.

“Nice to know that your humour hasn’t changed,” he said.

“Nice to know that your attitude is still very much present,” you smiled at him with a hint of patronisation. Conrad let out a singular scoff, before smiling at you so softly that you almost didn’t know how to react. It’d been so long since you’d seen his face, let alone this up close.

Beneath all those wasted years and the obvious muscle and stubble that he’d grown into, sixteen-year-old Conrad was still there somewhere. The sweet boy that still had married parents, that still had a mother, that hadn’t lost Isabel Conklin.

Maybe this Conrad was better. Maybe this Conrad was who he was because of all those struggles. We were all human—flawed, fixed, ever-growing.

“You take my shower, I’ll use the main bathroom,” he spoke finally. You would have fought back against his hostess mentality once more, had you not been so utterly fixated on the gentle way his lips were curled into a smile, just for you.

“Sure,” you forced yourself to snap out of it. The two of you parted ways; Conrad shut the door behind him as he left; and you were alone.

Despite the happiness from the reunion, you couldn’t shake a horrid feeling that these days were numbered. Connie’s moods were ever-changing, and you hadn’t even had the chance to properly talk yet.

Would this all go away, as fast as it arrived once more?

Around the dinner table, just the five kids, a subject crops up that leaves you fucking speechless. Steven makes a joke—

“Belly didn’t even know what kissing was until we were thirteen,” he quipped. Belly kicks him beneath the table while Jeremiah bursts into laughter.

“Hey,” she protests. “At least I didn’t lose my virginity on the beach. Think of all the fucking sand,” a round of whoa’s goes around the table, while you focus on not snorting pomegranate margarita out of your nose.

“Steven?” you manage to say. “Sex on the fucking beach?” it’s impossible to hold in your giddiness. For the first time in Cousins, you’re all actively talking like normal adults. Adults who drink, adults who have sex.

“It was all Shayla’s idea,” Steven said, ducking his reddening cheeks down towards his plate.

“And now she’s got you whipped,” Conrad chimed in, making Steven throw his napkin at him harshly across the table. Conrad grabbed it before it could properly hit him, holding it in his hand and sending a smug smile around the room.

“You’re just jealous,” Steven began, and the room descended into a tense silence immediately. “While the three of us were shacking up with people that summer, you were out every goddamn night, fucking who knows who,”

Your face drops, but the knowing looks on Jere and Belly’s faces show you that it’s no longer personal. It’s funny though—seeing the cogs in Conrad’s brain whirr and buzz and try to pick out the most perfect comeback to Steven.

Your stomach lurches before he can speak; forcing yourself to speak before Conrad even replies.

“Are you against sexual freedom, Steven?” you chided, sending him a squinted smile.

“Yeah, are you, Steven?” Conrad chimed in opposite you, immediately joining in with you.

“Because there is absolutely nothing wrong with sleeping around, as long as you’re being safe and it’s consensual,” you added.

“What she said, yeah,” Conrad said, louder this time, more enthusiastic.

“Are you slut-shaming Conrad, Steven?”

“Are you?”

“Because if Conrad wants to be a slut, let him be a slut—,”

“Let me be a slut, Steven!” Conrad stood suddenly, yelling across the table while bursts of laugher pounce out of everyone’s mouths. Steven raises his hands in mock defeat, giggles on his lips.

“Fine, fine, fine—Conrad,” he said, turning to his friend and reaching out his hand across the table. “You can be whatever you want, man. You can be a slut,”

“Thank you,” Conrad lets out, clutching onto Steven’s hand over-dramatically as he sits back down.

“You did get around Cousins that year though, Connie,” Jeremiah chimed in, starting to count the number of girls on his fingers. Conrad took a massive sip of margarita.

“Yeah, well—I was seventeen and a dick,” he admitted. “Maybe I’m still a dick now, but at least I take accountability, right?” after finishing his sentence, he looked right at you. It was clear as day the message he was trying to get across; the apology two years ago; the keenness to be a brilliant hostess to you now.

You sort of wished he’d just act normally, without all the formalities of putting on a show of good behaviour for you.

You smiled back at him, sipping your drink with raised eyebrows and trying not to overthink this entire return to Cousins.

“What about you?” Conrad perked up. “What were you like at seventeen?”

“Me?” you said, ignoring the growing brain freeze from drinking your margarita too fast. You put down your glass and let out a scoff. “Oh—massive slut. I was a whore, for sure,”

The sound of their laughter is enough to fill you with warmth for days in a row. The five of you get drunk and sit on the beach until the early hours of the morning, just like when you were teenagers. So much time has passed—

But for the first time ever, it feels like things can go back to normal again.

“Right!” Belly exclaims a few days later. You’re in the kitchen with Conrad, fighting over the good muffins from the bakery. When you stop, he pulls the last blueberry one from your grasp. You elbow him in the ribs abruptly, smiling at Belly as he yelps behind you. “It’s your dress fitting today,” she says, whisking herself over to you at the island.

“Oh God, okay,” you let out nervously, wiping your crumb coated hands down your cargo shorts. “Am I good to go like this?” you ask. Your hair is curly from the salt water, your face bare of any make-up.

“Going to a dress fitting looking like a dried piece of seaweed sounds entertaining,” Conrad chimes in, gently taking a few long curls of your hair into his palm. He fiddles his fingers through them, detangling them as you focus on not reacting. “Can I come?”

“Absolutely not—,” you start.

“Of course!” Belly yells. She frowns at you playfully after realising your response. “Oh, come on, having Connie there will make it more fun,”

“How on Earth will Conrad being present, while a dress is being draped over my dried piece of seaweed body, be better?” you ask, and he gently tugs one of your pieces of hair. You turn round to look at him face on, right as he takes a bite from the blueberry muffin.

“Objective third party?” he mutters, smug smile on his punchable face.

You forgot how upper-class Cousins is. It’s an entirely different world from England, with its white picket fences and suburban streets. The shops are all independently owned and adorable; as well as being expensive as hell. Walking around the small town reminds you of Susannah—a shopping bag on her arm, spring in her step, smile on her face.

Cousins was Susannah through and through.

“This is where I came to get my deb ball dress with Susannah and Mom, the summer I turned sixteen,” Belly explains, opening the door to the small boutique.

“The summer where Conrad discovered sex, I see,” you reply, walking through the door. Conrad scoffs behind you, trying and failing to trip you up with his flip flop wearing feet. You snap at him, smacking him once on the shoulder. All it does is make him laugh harder.

Belly’s expression is one that you can’t pinpoint. It’s somewhere between happiness and confusion. The way she looks at Conrad is quizzical, as if she can’t understand his playful behaviour; but she’s also ecstatic about it. It’s written all over her face.

“Stop acting like children,” she tries to say it sternly, but it doesn’t work.

“Hey—we’re older than you, remember that,” Conrad says playfully, leaning his chin down on your shoulder.

“It’s useless fighting back,” you let out, bonking your head onto Conrad’s and leaning into his chest. “Belly’s getting married and we’re both single, remember that?”

“I try not to,” he replies, and with that Belly huffs disapprovingly. “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought him along,” she lets out.

“I told you—,” you start, but are cut off by a formal—

“Miss Conklin?”

And so, it began.

With the help of an assistant, you’re whisked into the changing room to try on the dress immediately. Conrad and Belly are outside, sipping on champagne and waiting anxiously to see whether it works or not, but you’re too caught up in slipping it over your head to even realise what you look like; until the assistant quirkily says—

“Well, we hardly need to tailor it, actually!”

You look into the mirror and freeze. Belly picked out the bridesmaid’s dresses herself, and the one that she settled upon was gorgeous. A sage green, silk two piece; long flowing skirt with a slit by the right thigh; flowing, spaghetti strap top that’s slightly cropped—enough to show off just a hint of your midriff.

You feel like a princess instantly. It’s not every day that you see yourself in a bridesmaid dress for one of your closest friends’ wedding day.

The assistant makes some minor changes. She tugs the waistband of the skirt and clips it back, just so it fits you perfectly. The hem needs to be shortened slightly, since no set length was chosen for the skirt before the fitting. After the adjustments, you simply look at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds more.

Then, you face them.

Leaving the dressing room, your heart is pounding. You’ve clumsily tied back your sea salt curls and you almost feel silly, but it’s all worth it when Belly’s face lights up at your reveal.

“Oh,” she lets out, long and full of warmth. “It’s perfect,” she stands suddenly, whisking herself over to you as you stand on a small podium and can see the whole of your body in a large mirror. “You’re perfect,”

You let out a scoff. “Don’t say ridiculous things,”

“Conrad!” Belly yells, and the man himself rounds the corner slowly, after getting bored and shuffling through the dresses in the lobby to amuse himself. He’s got half a fancy macaroon in his mouth and his hair is tussled when he lunges himself around the side of a wardrobe.

That’s when he freezes as well, skimming his eyes over your reflection in the mirror. His gaze meets your face, looking up to the reflection of your eyes. He swallows the damn macaroon, keeping up his blank and serious looking expression.

“Beautiful,” is all he says.

He gulps afterwards. You see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

You send him a small smile. “Thank you,” you whisper. That’s when you look towards Belly—her eyes are secretly on Conrad, examining his expression. She’s got this sly smile on her face and this gleam in her eyes that makes you nervous. When she finally looks back at you, she raises her brows presumptuously.

You frown immediately, shooting your gaze back to yourself in the mirror, heart racing within your ribcage. “Are we done now?” you ask. You try not to sound so harsh, but it comes out sternly. Conrad’s face ducks to the ground in your peripheral vision. He coughs to himself.

“We could get some ice cream after this? I said I’d meet Jere at the club a bit later,” Belly suggests. Conrad’s eyes shoot up to meet yourself once more, but suddenly you feel too exposed. You feel viewed upon.

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel... nervous. It scares you.

“I... sort of want to go back to the house,” you let out. “I’m suddenly really tired,” you add a chuckle to try and lighten the mood.

“I’ll drop you at the club, Belly,” Conrad chimes in, keeping his expression blank as he takes in your reflection once more. “Then, I’ll take you home, okay?”

You nod once, before disappearing back into the changing rooms.

The drive back to the house is awkward, to say the least. After dropping Belly at the country club, it’s just you and Conrad in the car together. You don’t understand why the dynamic shifted back in the boutique, but it really got under your skin.

Belly’s knowing face as if she was hopeful about something. Conrad’s seriousness when he called you beautiful. It was all... too surreal.

You suddenly became all too aware that these were people who knew you so well—probably better than you knew yourself. These were people you’d grown up with, people you’d fought with, cried with, been at your fucking worst with.

And that one word from Conrad—beautiful—said in such an un-Conradian way had staked you through the fucking heart. And Belly’s look afterwards, that glint in her eye and her thoughts filling with endless possibilities...

Was... was Belly wanting to set you guys up?

“The dress fitting was successful, then,” Conrad spoke over the silence, forcing you away from your thoughts. You looked out the passenger seat window, not wanting to look at him just yet.

“Sure was,” you said bluntly.

“The green made you look more like a dried piece of seaweed, though,” he added, and you knew he was smiling; you could feel it on the back of your neck.

You hummed once, allowing yourself a small, breathy laugh. “Funny,”

Conrad’s silence burns a hole in your heart. You can practically hear the thoughts bombarding his skull. He taps the steering wheel anxiously. “Have I... done something to upset you?” he asks hesitantly.

You close your eyes immediately, sighing painfully to yourself. “No,” you say honestly, before finally turning to him. “No, of course not,” you say, stronger this time. “Sorry—I think I’m just... tired and overwhelmed,”

“About what?” he chides. You let out a scoff.

“I don’t even know,” you whisper, before perking up and gently smacking your hand down on his thigh. “It’s nothing, really. Just ignore me. I’m being stupid,” you swipe your thumb over his skin once, reassuringly, caringly, before removing your hand from his leg.

Conrad smiles smally at the wheel, taking your apology silently. You scatter your eyes across his side profile, looking for any signs of a different emotion; any hurt, any pain; anything else you need to apologise for after all this time.

Instead, you remember Belly’s utter confusion at seeing him act so playful.

“Hey, so tell me this—why do I get the sense that Belly and the others are shocked every time you so much as smile?”

He lets out a large sigh, tapping on the wheel once more. You hope you haven’t crossed a line, you hope you haven’t brought up something that he didn’t want to. Conrad was a private person with most. He chose the people he cared for and was affectionate with carefully. He didn’t often show his true colours.

But the Conrad you’d grown up with had always smiled. He’d always laughed. Even now, you could so vividly remember the way he taught Belly to dance in the living room or indulged Steven with playing his favourite video games.

“I guess... because they’re exactly that,” he finally says. “Shocked, surprised, confused. Hell, even I’ve caught myself this week wondering the same fucking thing,”

“Are you okay?” you ask on instinct, as the tension in the care descends upon you two within seconds.

“Mostly,” he says, smiling a little. “I don’t need to tell you why the past eight years have, well, kind of sucked. Jere and Belly and the others, I guess they all dealt with it differently, you know?” you nod at his words, showing him that you’re there, that you’re present. “They also had each other a lot more than me during that time. I, uh, well—I isolated myself a lot. Distanced myself from them after knowing about Mom’s cancer. Screwed things up with Jere and Belly for a while,” he lets out a sad, breathy chuckle.

“I’m so sorry, Conrad,” you let out. You don’t say it sadly, you say it in a way that gets across all you want him to know; you’re here, you understand, he can confide in you again.

“The past few years have been better, for sure, don’t get me wrong,” he perks up suddenly. “I don’t think Jere and I have ever been this close, and we’re all together again for their special day,”

“Reunited and it feels so good,” you offer, leaning back in your seat and smiling at him.

“Exactly,” he agrees, before turning the car into the beach house driveway. Conrad cuts the engine after parking, but it’s clear that neither of you are ready to get out of the car just yet.

You settle back, listening to his breathing until you’re unconsciously copying his pulse. He lets out an abrupt chuckle then, leaning back in his seat and shoving his hand over his mouth to stop more from falling out. You look at him quizzically.

“What?” you chide.

“It’s just that, well,” he began, shuffling himself in the seat until he’s looking at you head on. “They’re all fucking astounded that I’m acting this way after so long, but I’m not,”

You squint at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re back,” he lets out, without any signs of hesitation. “It’s like, as soon as you walked onto the beach and yelled my name, the years fell away,”

He put it so well. It made your heart hurt, but in a good way. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling right at his pretty boy face. A comment brews in your mind.

“I always knew I was your favourite,” you say jokingly.

Jokingly. Why does the line between ‘joke’ and ‘flirt’ feel thinner this year?

Conrad lets out a glorious laugh, filling the car and your chest. “My favourite? No way,”

“Okay, asshole,” you respond, smacking him once to get across your offense. “Who’s got the top spot?’

“Laurel,”

Well, you can’t argue with that.

You open your mouth to protest, but you end up nodding in agreement instead. “Okay, yeah. I’ll except that,”

“She’s kind of hot,” Conrad lets out.

“Connie,” you say lowly, but he doesn’t hear you because he’s laughing his fucking head off. He’s clutching the wheel with white knuckles and his laughter is so strong that it’s almost silent. He’s just forcing out air through his lungs with an energetic face and no fucking noise, until he sucks in too big of a breath and a snort erupts from his nose.

That’s when you come undone. You lose it alongside him, clutching your belly so tightly; you could have formed abs from laughing that fucking hard.

“You don’t see it?” he continues.

“Of course, I see it,” you let out. “But it goes unsaid. Laurel being a M.I.L.F goes un-fucking-said,”

The two of you stay in the car so long that the porch lights come on eventually. Steven passes the front door to head upstairs, but stops when he sees Conrad’s headlights still on. He peers his head out of the front door window.

In the windshield of Conrad’s car, he sees the two of you—laughing, crying, bobbing your shoulders up and down so much.

He can’t help but smile.

Somewhere deep down, he prays that Conrad is back for good.

Tag list: @cjansw234 @browneyes-issac

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liuhko · 8 months

Text

ᘡ ⭑ SYNOPSIS・ Gwendolyn decides to teach you how to play drums.

THIS WORK INCLUDES: Flustered Gwen and reader. GIRLS FLIRTING!! Sharing clothes and dumb teenage thoughts.

NOTE: This is just a quick one-shot I whipped out. I love Gwen, she’s so cute. I hope to become the face of the pro-Gwendolyn agenda. I added “GIRLS FLIRTING!!” but this is a gender-neutral post, I'm just sapphic and have a fat crush on her so I'm self-inserting xx

Gwen trying to teach you how to play the drums isn’t the easiest thing. There’s confusion and a variety of mistakes, and it’s a slight mess for both parties.

"I’m gonna teach you how to play drums today!” You stared at her blankly with a Spider-Man 2099 burger stuffed in your mouth while hunched over your 2099 meal. "Huh? Why?" You asked, although your words came out muffled and you nearly choked while speaking. Gwen’s eyes widened slightly, and she patted your back to make sure you were okay. "What do you mean, why? I just wanna teach you something new."

"That’s cool, but what’s the reason?”

I like you; you’re really pretty, and I want to spend more time with you. She thought, her cheeks growing warmer as she smiled awkwardly at you. "Hands…coordination." You and Gwen gave each other a confused look at the same time. You furrowed your brows at her expression. "Why do you look confused?"

"I didn’t mean to say that. What I mean is that playing drums helps with coordination. You use your hands a lot too, obviously." A snicker fell from your lips, and you just smiled at her. You finished the last of your burger, stood up, and walked toward Gwen. "So, you wanna teach me how to play drums, huh?" She nodded. "Alright, should we do it here or...?"

──────────────────────

"WOAH. Your universe is so cool!" Gwen had decided to take you to her place to teach you. H.Q. was too noisy, and she would’ve been a nervous mess in yours. You’d met her dad earlier when she led you through the portal; he gave you some cookies he had made, and you ended up chatting with each other for far too long. So, now you're exploring Gwen’s room with a bag of cookies in hand.

"You look so different here, like a painting!" Your eyes lingered on Gwen as you observed her. She looked so vibrant and colorful. "You look nice here, Gwen." She paused, taking a moment to register your words. It didn’t take long for Gwen to understand, and when she did, her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. "Thanks, you too." She shut her closet and handed you some clothes, avoiding your eyes when her fingers touched yours momentarily. "You’re welcome." You hummed. You stared at the small pile of clothes in your hand and glanced at Gwen. "What’re these for?" You asked.

"You’re in your suit, and people here aren’t too fond of Spider-Woman. I can go buy you some stuff if you aren’t comfortable wearing my clothes." You bit your lip to stop yourself from bursting into a fit of giggles and stupid smiles. You shook your head and quickly threw on the hoodie and sweats she had given you over your suit. "Nope. Don’t buy anything; I like your clothes. They’re comfortable."

"Wow, okay. You put those on fast. They look nice on you though." She mumbled the last part, giving you the same awkward smile as before. "I heard that; I appreciate the compliment." You said, playfully punching her shoulder. "I’ll step outside so you can change out of your suit."

"But you didn’t change out of your suit."

"I know, I’m respecting your clothing."

"I don’t mind if you wear my clothes; that’s why I offered them to you."

"Shh, it doesn’t matter."

Gwen playfully rolled her eyes at you and decided to drop the conversation. She accepted defeat. "Fine, I’ll be out in a few minutes." You nodded and shut the door behind you. The truth is, if you had worn her clothes without your suit underneath, your nerves would’ve taken over and you’d probably explode. Teenage hormones are weird. You ignored your odd thoughts and stood outside, waiting for Gwen to finish. Thankfully, it didn’t take her too long. Once she finally emerged from her room, you waved bye to her dad and left the house. Now closely following Gwen through the streets of New York, Earth-65B.

──────────────────────

"Use your wrists more."

"What do you mean?!"

"(Y/N), your wrists. Don’t use your shoulders."

"I give up.” You stood up and handed Gwen the drumsticks. You attempted to walk away, but she quickly spun you around. "Let’s try it one more time. If you don’t like it, I won’t bother you with drumming ever again." Groaning dramatically, you grabbed the drumstick, sat in front of the drums, and patiently waited for Gwen’s instructions. The blonde-haired girl patted your back and stood behind you, carefully adjusting your arms and hands into the correct position.

"You’re doing a pretty good job; just try to use your wrists instead of your shoulders.” You nodded and began to play. You thought you were doing pretty well. You didn’t sound horrible, at least. You were hitting the right notes, but Gwen constantly stopped you. Ready to point out more issues with your form, timing, or whatever else you messed up when playing the drums. This time was no exception. "We’ve been at this for an hour, and you keep correcting the same mistakes. Maybe I’m just not good at this." You spoke dejectedly.

Gwen, who still stood behind you, placed her arms over yours and gently held your wrists. "Why don’t I show you? Maybe that’ll make it easier." A tingly feeling shot through your body, and you felt like butter. Slippery, spineless butter. You knew it was probably an accident, but Gwen had made you short-circuit for a few moments. Her standing behind you and holding you in this position made your stomach hurt, but in a good way. Although this wasn’t the first time she had adjusted your form, she was much closer than she was the last few times. That, paired with her bending forward and speaking so closely to your ear, made your face heat up. The fact that you were wearing her clothes didn’t help. They smelled like her, and it suddenly became much harder to concentrate.

Gwen adjusted your form (again) and played a few notes with you, her hands still on yours. She went on about... something. Truthfully speaking, you had no idea what she was saying, and you didn’t care all that much. Not when you were so focused on her arm and hand placement. Even though you weren’t focused, you had to make it look like you were, otherwise that’d be rude. So you locked eyes with Gwen, only to get that tingly feeling again. Maybe it was the position you both were in, maybe it was her clothes and their smell, or maybe it was her voice echoing in your head (even though you had zero idea what she was talking about). Whatever it was, it made her eyes look considerably prettier than before.

They were so bright and sparkly. Her lashes fit them perfectly, and she had nice eyebrows. Her cheeks were another nice part of her face. So were her lips. They looked a pretty shade of pink; they also looked soft and kissable. Had Gwen Stacy ever kissed anyone? Would you kiss her, or would she kiss you? Would it be a quick peck, or would it take a bit longer? She’d been chewing gum; maybe she’d taste like mint. Her breath was nice. Pretty girls always have nice breath.

A wave of thoughts surrounding Gwen and what it’d be like to kiss her had popped into your head, and you couldn’t focus on anything else but her. Not her instructions, not the drums, just her. She was enchanting and hypnotic. You didn’t mind, though. Being in a Gwen-centered trance wasn’t the worst thing you could experience. Unless you decided to blurt out your thoughts.

"Gwen, can I kiss you?"

"…What?"

"Sorry, that was weird and rude. I’m just distracted by you. You're so cute." Gwen’s cheeks flushed immediately after hearing your words, and she moved away from you, shocked and a bit excited. Everyone and anyone who observed the two of you interacting with each other could tell Gwen had a crush on you, and vice versa. Everyone but you two. So, to say Gwen was flustered was an understatement. The girl took several deep breaths and mumbled to herself. It took a few minutes for her to calm down, but once she did, she turned to you and shot you her signature awkward smile. "If you can play a few notes correctly, I’ll give you a kiss."

Your eyes lit up at this offer. Receiving a kiss from the girl you like for the simple task of playing a few percussion notes was a dream come true. Your posture straightened, and your grip on the drumsticks tightened. "How many notes do I need to play?"

"Ten."

She wanted ten notes, so you gave her ten notes. You focused intensely on your posture, timing, and any other issues you had before while playing. There was no way you’d lose this chance, and if you did, then you’d throw yourself into a ditch or drown. Whichever option presented itself first. You played the drums surprisingly well, and Gwen scoffed at this. "All it took for you to play properly was for me to offer you a kiss?"

"I’m a simple person."

"So was all my adjusting and helping part of your plan to get me closer to you? You didn’t actually need it, hm?" She leaned into you, a hint of a grin tugging on her lips. “Well, it’s not like that. I did… I do need the help." You fidgeted with the hoodie and stared intensely at Gwen, that tingly feeling returning again. She tucked some hair behind your ear and gave you a peck on the cheek. "You look cute in my clothes. Play ten more notes, and I’ll kiss you again."

"On it."

TAGS @tnjiku @hymnbones @peachop @lucstarz @m1lkenthusiast @rivbows @dayestic @ynzu @zorosq @bakuslanderhq @histani

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anemonet · 6 months

Note

hi hi, hello hello sorry if you've already answered but reverse iterators au? (Saw it and started squealing, kicking my feet, twirling my hair it looks so so so cool and the vibes are immaculate)

hi hi hi!! no need to be sorry im shaking out of my skin in excitement to talk about this :DD

so i got a couple different asks about this so im doing it in categories so in this one ima talk a bit about map changes and stuff!! if you want a general explanation go to this post :))

Just as a general rundown, the idea of the reverse au is that instead of moon being accidentaly screwed over by pebbles, its moon accidentaly screwing over pebbles, and pebbles is now stuck in a half way collapsed iterator can suspended high up in the sky, moons structure is semi fine except for the mold colony in her gut!

Ok first off im just gonna drop this here

its a veerrry vauge idea of how i imagine the five pebbles region would look in this au, its also totally tailored to my region prefernces but it be like that,

quick summery is that some of pebbles legs collapsed and hes now leaning against the sky bridges by chimney He collapsed for reasons explained here and also sidenote, its not gonna be a saint era pebbles kinda deal, shaded is still moslty fine (with some smushed areas but overall whole, actully would be a bit brighter without pebbles blocking all of it) - and is instead a result of metropolis collapsing onto a side leaning pebbles, mixing the regions of five pebbles, metropolis and the exterior. This is fueled by my own love of doing jumps between pipes high up in the air, so alot of the region is gonna be that.

The area now being divided into a couple different types of terrain, with where the wall was is now still connected to chimney but with the structure leaning sideways making the parkour much harder, also im obbsessed with the idea of having a gate hang in the air so thats how the chimney entrence looks, also its the gate from top of pebbles, that fell down, so the karma requirment stays at one in both directions - both for the mechanic of making it less punishing if you die, and also because i think theres something in having the first karma being the only requirment to meet pebbles , which actully drives me crazy in normal rain world to but anyhow - also having upsidedown dens like the one on top of metropolis but flipped over would be sick. you will then find pebbles at the top of it all

Second theres collapsed metropolis which, while still similar to normal metropolis also has alot of areas like the open air pipe swinging in chimney canopy and is much more accesible, as other slugcats than artificer needs to be able to traverse the area. This area is probably the most creature infested with the scavs still hanging out (they would be able to make it back to metropolis after artificer murdered them all, seeing as the citizen drone gate is lying crushed somewhere) there would also probably be some fun funky merged structures because of how the living blocks work - i asume they try to repair and mend damages, presumebly leading to accidental merging between collapsed buildings - and then theres pebbles own guts, whith all his chambers, antigravity is overall gone, even if i think it be nice to leave less damaged areas still with wonky gravity, but overall its a crambed tunnel maze with the occacional open mega rooms, this is probably where the yellow lizards set up camp, super fun, also probably lantern mice who crawled up from shaded to the partially collapsed underhand and then up to pebbles.

other area things worth of note is that i coulnt help but sprinkle in the karma murals up by pebbles in the broken down metropolis, most of them got shattered but i think it would be ironic if the fifth (survival) karma stayed intact \/

it also raises the question of what happens to the echos, while the echo by the wall is likely hanging out, im kinda like wondering about the echo up in metropolis, the question being if the echo is tied to the specific coordinate - high up as fuck - or if it will follow the structure it resides by, the tallest tower - i dunno but well im voting for them following the place in this case (and not just because i think it would be sad to be trapped miles in the sky surrounded by nothing at all) so the echo is staying, even if the dialouge would be different.

Also for anyone curious im saying that moon in this au is resposible for the scav king, she tought it be fun to make a scav enlightened and it scampered up to pebbles, pebbles is not happy about this.

another general note is reverse pebbles is still above cloud levels and rain is not a factor in the usual areas of pebbles and metropolis, also also im banning vultures after a certain point, specificly in the worst parkour areas high up with hard jumps that totally exsists, im doing that because fuck vultures, and also because i genuinlly think they ruin the thrill of making hard jumps, i am misrable about how the priciple bridge turned out because a vulture can just fuck up a cycle. anyhow!!

Moon on the other hand is much the same, similar to spearmasters campaign but with some parts infected with the rot similar to unfortunate developments and sans the wonky gravity..mostly, also the priciple has collapsed and you cannot go between moon and pebbles

also her chambers would be much more active, with alot of overseers hanging out , not just her own but neighbor itertors also, seeing as pebbles lockdown woudlnt have happened, also there will be the semi often ERROR and red blinking messages which is from pebbles cyber attacking her, hes petty like that. Also think it be funny if she had a livefeed of different creatures in her facility grounds.

other notes would be that shoreline likely would stay as waterfront facility, the acid pits would probably still disapear, same goes for garbage wastes, but the brother long legs would not be there anymore. but thats the major changes to the map from this au, really its just to have pebbles misrable high up in a broken box unable to escape!!

I was about to go into detail about how the story route would change because of this reversal, but uh i already talked alot so ima not do that!!

so thats all i had for you, hope my confused ramblings on game levels was....semi fun, but anyhow thanks for the ask! also you wont belive how hard i fought to not have all drawings just be this kind of shot of a leaning wall, but have the one that survived!! have a great week :D

#rain world #asks #reverse iterator au #long post

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11vein · 1 year

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I gotta say that I rlly rlly love your art!!! The atmosphere and everything is just fantastic!!!

If you don't mind, do you perhaps have any tips or tutorials for coloring or shading? :DD

/also love your ocs and how u design them too! they're very unique <3

thank you!! i have a few different ways i like to color/shade... im gonna be honest and say that the way in end-world normopathy is not how i usually do things idk why i did it like that... i already wanna crush the art in that pv lMAOOO ummm.... tips.....okay heres like a few tips/how i do things sometimes i just kinda have an obsession with cool lighting as of late!! working with gradients and figuring out lighting is a real treat. big recommend.

most of my art as of late especially when drawing something fast is just. do gradients for some shading and extra detail then add lighting ontop.......... (then a bunch of other color editing and noise filters and stuff to make it sexy) but obviously that doesnt work for every scenario!! mostly for really fast stuff that does the job just fine

ummm another tip of something i looove to do is coloring your lineart but mainly only where theres edges of lighting. . so like this

it really makes all the difference imo thats all i can really think of without making new art at this time to explain things WAIT NO HERES MORE. multiple-colored gradients make things look sooo cool. if you use gradients try to make them multiple colors it makes it looks so sexy i promise

and then finally. my last tip CHROMATIC ABERRATION AND NOISE MAKES ANYTHING LOOK BETTER in my opinion . i am probably sick in the head and insane but HEAR ME OUT

thank you

#qna

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luigitimecritique · 1 year

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Happy Chaos: Happy Chaos? Happy Chaos.

Happy Chaos is. well for one he's sexy. But ALSO. In my opinion, he's straight up the most well designed character "character-wise" (goodness gracious he is an oppressive mess in game though LMAO-) in all of Strive, and all of Guilty Gear in my opinion.

DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT THAT KNOWLEDGABLE ON GG LORE SO I MIGHT FUCK UP SOME STUFF OK LET'S DO THIS WOO

Let's start with his looks (he is so sexy):

Everything about HC is striking. He's very human looking, but at the same time inhuman. His blue skin obviously stands out, especially because it's not a very natural shade of blue. It seems very artificial, and the blue only stands out with the very weird tattoos on his body. A heart shape, with clenching teeth, and orange crosses. This character is about contrast and this shows it damn well. His human parts are almost immediately contrasted with something inhuman. If we look from bottom up, his lower body looks fine but then we realize his feet are blue and he's barefoot (despite having a jacket and pants). He has very plain black pants, but it's contrasted by a fucking gun holster, as well as two belts because Daisuke just fucking loves belts. Then this splash of colour with his blue skin, again dulled by his black heart tattoo, contrasted AGAIN with the yellow inside of the heart and the orange of the jacket's innards. Finally his glasses just look stupid.

They're ORANGE. CROSSES. And obviously, his weirdly unshaded (idk if that's the term here) black halo which just. MMM. His character's fine without it, but with it it just adds this… "what?" feeling to him that I do not know how to explain.

From looking at him you can immediately tell that this guy 1. doesn't give a shit 2. can kill you if he just feels like it. Forgive me if I'm wrong, as I'm stepping out of my territory, but his upper body seems to make a triangle (with his gun acting as an extender of its base), which is always used to show strength, and power. It's not a perfect triangle though, his head is tilted, his arm is up in this carefree pose. Even the halo is tilted, which, again, is so. just. cool!

HC' actual character? He's essentially a god with ADHD Immensely powerful to the point that he is by far the most powerful character in this entire series, but just. does not give a shit enough to really do too much with said power. His theme (Drift) is the best way to explain his character. It starts off with this really playful tune and the lyrics go:

that's. LITERALLY HC IN A NUTSHELL. Other than that his theme is just really good and tells of this very… strange being that is HC.

But I'd be misleading you if I said that was the only part of HC that was important. The biggest part of this guy is that he will constantly and repeatedly do harm to humanity, but only because he wants to see it thrive.

He joys for life, and thus he wants life to thrive beyond it all he will kill, destroy and do whatever he can (and he can do a LOT) to see what he wants. This selfish, but at the same time completely selfless desire to see humanity succeed. That is the motivation of Happy Chaos, and why he does all he does.

I could talk about so much more with this guy, but I'm gonna end it off here. Like how if he fights himself the opening dialogue will go: where the Chaos' say Chaos 1: "Wait which of us is real again?" Chaos 2: "Beats me" or Chaos 1: "Can I play the antagonist?" Chaos 2: "I'll be the protagonist then"

WHICH IS SUCH A QUIRKY FUNNY LINE I JUST JAISODVHJAOVD

All in all, Happy Chaos is probably one of the best character designs I've seen in a WHILE, and I HIGHLY recommend you look more into this character because he is just. mwah.

Like all posts I will make, this probably made absolutely no sense and was probably downright wrong a few times but oh well.

#guilty gear strive #gaming #random rant #let's discuss #character design #happy chaos #fighting games #gg strive #guilty gear lore

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the1weepinqguitar · 7 months

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tally hall sketches and other assorted doodles

Here ya go guys! I also have improvement pics from last year! Almost two years in the Tally Hall fandom! Woohoo! My Marvin's CD is gonna hate me even more after all of this

A Ross sketch! I'm super proud of how it turned out! Below is a close-up!

The aforementioned close-up, showing the shading on his face and the folds of his sleeve!

Zubin! I love the side profile, and I used his picture in the MMMM booklet as a reference! Close up below, so you can see some of the more fine details/shading

the close-up!

Here's Andrew! His hair is kinda hard to not fluff-ify, but I dealt with it anyways and tried my best to keep it close to reality. Obligatory close(r)-up below.

next will be some other random stuff, mostly tally hall, but some of it is oc art

drew this drawing of Ross last September. Not amazing but very stylized, which I love/hate. the tag on the bottom left reads, "he's rather disheveled but this is the best I could do back then"

wtf is he doing? He in an action movie or something? btw this was last-year's andrew. very stylized. i hate it.

decided not to include the other last-year Rob cause i hate it deeply. this one's much better. very fluffy. i dont like the collar tho

just me poking fun at my horrendous attempts at stylizing joe. im not gonna draw him as much as the others btw.

This is from an au created by @bonkdd, but i did rob and andrew's designs bc i never saw his designs for them. i also added a lot of lore and plot stuff because i really liked the concept. in simple terms the tallies are robots that were abandoned by Marvin after he passed away so now they're falling apart n stuff without him to care for them (that's why rob hides his face). Anyways, huge thanks to Bonk for the original idea! They're a great artist, you should go check them out!

Edith, drawn/sketched with a ballpoint pen.

Another one. I like this one better, but I spent two days on this one versus a half on hour on the other so i guess it makes sense

Adrian and Reuben (OCs), done in a college-ruled notebook bc i ran out of pages in my sketchbook. next is a close-up so you can see more shading.

probably my favorite gay couple i've ever written ngl

Ace again, but wearing Reuben's favorite sweater.

Looking mighty fine!

He's lookin' tough, he's got the stuff, he's got the spiffy shades... (/lyric)

pose practice

Boll weevil, why don't you get out of your home? (/lyric)

old art jumpscare - i actually kinda like this one, might redraw it. Below is the full thing

why is zubes staring like that??? its creepy

here's another. i don't know why it's sideways. andrew is scared of joe btw, this isn't the entire drawing

Did an embossing peice. It's the Mojo Chessmaster! I tried by best to make it as detailed as possible, and I think I did pretty alright. The neck was probably the worst part to do. Below are close-ups

the head of the guitar was a pain in the ass.

This part was also pretty tricky but it came out okay. the dials at the bottom are raised as much as I could get them to go, so I'm not worried about them. My issue here was the pickups.

I also added Flansburgh's little signature guy but i drew his hair because why not? Anyways this piece took me a good hour or so to finish, I think it'll fetch a good grade (it was for my metal design class).

I'll add a sketch I just did as a bonus:

it's from a tally hall fanfic/au i made back in may after my grandpa passed away. It was a great stress-reliever and I still really like how it turned out. It's about cryptids and monsters and shit. I'll post a summary on a different post because this one was mostly for the drawings. I might post a few installments of it on my ao3. It could be a weekly thing since i usually have time on fridays to write.

Once again, a close-up is available below.

I put literal hours of research on cryptids and of the area (ann harbor, MI) while writing this fic. It was fun though, and it helped me a lot. Feel free to ask me anything about the plot or world-building !

#ivan's art tag #tally hall fanart #oc art #random assorted sketches and stuff #buh-bye

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arthropod-concoctions · 10 months

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Uprooted: chapter 11

(ch 1 - ch 10 - ch 12)

Scott and Jimmy adapted to life in the desert remarkably fast. They fed the cows in the morning and evening, and mostly spent the afternoons trying to stay cooled. Sometimes Scott would go into the forest to gather flowers and make dye out of them, and very occasionally Jimmy would go out hunting-- for wildlife, never people-- with Joel and his 'family'. It wasn't the same as their old life, not by a long shot, but it was some semblance of peace.

That is, until one day when Scott was approached by Grian in the morning.

“Hey Scott,” Grian said, waving at him. “Do you know where Jimmy is? I need to discuss something with the two of you.”

Scott knew it was serious when he noticed that Grian said Jimmy's name correctly. “I think he was doing something with Joel. They might be by the cows.”

The two of them walked towards the cow enclosure, and sat down in the shade of a nearby dune to wait for Jimmy.

“You've been learning to use a bow, haven't you?” Grian asked Scott, taking off his glasses. He had bags under his eyes.

“I have.” While supplies in the desert were limited, one thing they had plenty of was weapons. By way of passing the time during hot afternoons in the bunkers, Scott had been practicing with bow and arrow, and he was actually a decent shot by now.

Grian nodded. “That's good.”

Scott didn't like the sound of that, but Jimmy arrived before he could question it much further. He had some drops of blood on his shirt.

“Morning. Had a fun time killing stuff today?” Grian asked.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Jimmy stammered. “Joel did most of the work though.” Everyone, Jimmy included, had been surprised at how well he'd been getting along with Joel after their initial hurdles.

“Right. Well, I'll get straight to the point: you and Scott might get a bit more action soon. See, the Desert was approached by none other than prince Cleo and prince Bdubs of Troren yesterday, and with them we made a plan to launch an attack on the king of Sanguacanis by infiltrating their castle.”

“...And you need us for that?” Jimmy asked.

“Yeah, I feel like we're the least fit for this job out of everyone in the desert,” Scott added. “I mean, I only started training with a bow like a month ago.”

“True, but more importantly, Scott, you're Green. The way the Red Army works is that a red-lived is always paired with a green-lived, so if we want to convincingly get inside, we're gonna need some Greens on the team. The princes brought some soldiers with them, but more is always nice.”

Scott shook his head. Jimmy said: “The whole reason we went to the Desert was to avoid a war!” Again, his gray skin began to flush red.

Grian grimaced. “Unfortunately, war is coming this way whether we want it or not. By joining the Red Desert you're pretty much automatically declared an enemy of Sanguacanis, and their conquest will eventually reach here if nobody stops them. It's better to fight them now, on our own terms.”

“Well, if you already have some actual soldiers for this mission, surely you'll be fine taking just them?” Scott said. “We'll stay right here, I think.”

“About that...” Grian looked at the ground. “There's two parts to this mission. Everyone not on the infiltration team is going to storm the castle from outside. We've made the agreement already that everyone in the Desert is going to participate in this.”

So that's how our peaceful life ends, Scott thought, suddenly getting angry. “So you were just never going to give us a choice anyways?” he shouted at Grian.

“You have the choice to-” Grian made an annoyed sound, and raised his arms. “Look. I like you two, which is why I'm telling you this now instead of Scar. Because he would've made it into this nice flowery story that you can't refuse, and you would've agreed to a mission without any idea of what has going to actually happen. I'd rather give you the honest story, so yes: your choice is between infiltrating or storming the castle. And if you'll believe me, I think the infiltration is probably the safest choice.”

Scott wanted to argue more, but could think of nothing to say. Grian was right; joining the Desert to avoid the army was only ever delaying the inevitable. He felt his shoulders deflate. “Well, then I guess I'm going with the infiltration.”

To Grian's credit, he didn't seem happy about winning the argument. “Alright. Now, like I said, we need pairs of Greens and Reds. I assumed you two would want to go as a pair, but if you want something else, Jimmy, then-”

“Of course we're going as a pair,” Jimmy cut him off. He sounded angry too.

“Good. We're going to work out the plan further this evening, so if you want more details, talk to me later.” With that, Grian jogged off towards the central fort of the desert.

Scott looked at Jimmy. Then, he pulled him into an embrace.

“This is just not getting any better, is it?” he murmured into Jimmy's shoulder.

Jimmy returned the embrace, holding him tight. “We'll get through it,” he said. “And if we really do kill the king with this mission, it'll all be over. Then we can go back to our own home, like normal.”

Like normal. Things hadn't been normal for a long time, and Scott doubted they ever could.

But it was a nice thing to fight for, so it'd have to do.

#arthropod writes #third life fic #third life smp #trafficblr #jimmy solidarity #scott smajor #flower husbands #trafficshipping #home is being uprooted #we're approaching endgame now!

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charliesinfern0 · 8 months

Note

josuyasu and michi for 47 :^)

HI 6 TY FOR THE PROMPT!!! i have to go to bed now sorry this took a bit to write <3

(here is the prompt list and my f/o x oc list if anybody else wants to send in some prompts!)

Kiss During Conversation with Josuke, Okuyasu, and Michi:

A yawn escaped Josuke’s mouth as he turned the page of his magazine, the heat of the afternoon sun making him feel sleepy. He was lying down on his side on the grass underneath the shade of a big tree near his school, and was enjoying the afternoon with his partners. Michi and Okuyasu had been deep in conversation with one another, and Josuke was all the more happy to just listen to it in the background while he relaxed.

“And-And! I finally got BioHazard 3, I was planning on staying up late to play it.” Michi grinned and clapped her hands together.

“Really? You sure you won’t be too scared?” Okuyasu asked as he fished another chip from the bag he was eating.

“I’ll be fine! I’ve been waiting practically forever to finally play it, and it’s honestly not all that scary to me.” Josuke could see the excitement radiating off of Michi, and he couldn’t help but smile.

Okuyasu spoke with his mouth full of chips. “Of course you would say that.”

Michi quirked an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’d say you’re creepier than whatever zombie or monster shows up in that game.”

“Really?” Michi looked at Okuyasu confusedly, tilting her head in a way that caused her bangs to slightly cover her eye, creating a harsh shadow over her face. “Do I scare you?”

“W-Well…,” Okuyasu looked away from her unintentionally intimidating expression, scratching his cheek. “No, I mean, you just scare the shit out of me whenever you walk up behind me without me noticing! It’s unnerving how quiet you are!” He pointed an accusatory finger at her.

Michi’s expression changed back to a smile and she laughed. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

“You can totally help it! You could just tell me that you’re behind me! You could say something like, ‘Hey Okuyasu! I’m right here!’” Okuyasu attempted an impression of Michi, which caused both Josuke and Michi to laugh.

“Hey, why are you laughing!? You can’t tell me the stuff she does isn’t scary as hell!” Okuyasu yelled at Josuke.

“Well, she doesn’t do it to me. I think she only does it to you because you look cute when you get scared.” Josuke teased.

“What?!” Okuyasu’s head whipped over to Michi, who giggled. “Guilty!”

Okuyasu covered his face with his hands, his cheeks growing warm. “You guys are so mean to me, you know that?”

Josuke got up from his spot and sat down next to Okuyasu. “Aw, we’re sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“We are, honest!” Michi tried to pull Okuyasu’s hands from his face, but he stayed put.

“Really? You’re really sorry?”

“Yes!” Josuke and Michi said at the same time.

Okuyasu finally moved his hands away from his face, and once he did, Michi and Okuyasu kissed his cheeks at the same.

“GAH!” Okuyasu exclaimed, jumping up from his spot and turning around to see his partners laughing again, his face growing hotter.

“I-I’m gonna get back at you guys for doing that, you know!”

#self ship #self ship community #self ship writing #oc x canon #poly self ship

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harrywavycurly · 1 year

Note

Hello! So the idea of Eddie being with a hairdresser just does things to me and I’m here to see if there’s anyway I could get some conversation things between them?😩

Hiii babes!! Sure you can, I hope these satisfy you, the idea of Eddie dating a hairdresser is just too good not to think about 😂 enjoy!💖

*Eddie knows a lot about hair but what the fuck is a money piece and why do you want to bleach it?*

“Baby please be gentle okay?” “Have I ever hurt you before?” “No…but you’ve got that…that look in your eyes that say you’re about to try to do something wild to my hair…” “French braids aren’t exactly wild Eddie but okay.” “Braids? As in more than one?” “Two to be exact.” “You’re not…you wouldn’t…tell me you wouldn’t.” “Wouldn’t what? Give you braided pig tails? I would and…well I currently am so…too late to stop now I’m halfway done with the first one.” “You’re so fucking lucky I love you.” “Yup so lucky…hair tie please.”

“Please Eddie you’d look so good with it.” “I don’t even know what the hell a money piece is?” “It’s the two little front sections of your hair…these right here…see? I’d just bleach them and then I can color them like blue or green…whatever color you want really the options are endless.” “Bleach my hair? Baby…wait..did you say blue? Like…I’d have blue hair?” “Well just these pieces would be blue and it’d blend in nicely with your dark brown so it wouldn’t be that noticeable…” “and how horrible will I look when it starts to grow out?” “Not bad since your roots are a dark brown and if we go like a dark shade of blue it wouldn’t be too bad…and if you hate it then we just dye it brown.” “If I do this what do I get in return?” “All my love and affection?” “As much as that sounds nice sweetheart…what else do I get?” “Cuddles and your favorite dinner tomorrow night? And I’ll even watch that scary movie with you about the dude with all the pins in his head.” “Ohh you’ll watch hellraiser with me? Deal….but if you try to sneak in any shade of pink onto my hair then no kisses or cuddles for a week.” “Oh please as if you could go a day without a kiss.” “Let’s not have to find out…” “okay okay no pink.”

“What’s this?” “It’s called a scrunchie…you use it to hold your hair up.” “Oh instead of rubber bands?” “You’ve been using rubber bands to put your hair up?” “Yeah…” “i…I can’t stand you sometimes. That’s why you get so mad when you take your hair down then? Because the rubber band rips it all out?” “Yeah those things hurt like a bitch to take out of my hair.” “They have these things called hair ties that are made for using on hair you know that right?” “I know…but I can’t ever find one when I need it so I just improvise…but this scrunchie thing feels nice.” “Come here let me put your hair up with it so you can see how it’s supposed to look.” “It’s pink.” “So? It’ll be in your hair no one will really see it.” “You don’t have any other ones?” “I’ll get you a few other colors at work tomorrow.” “Oh…this looks nice…you can totally see the pink…” “it looks so good!” “Thanks…I have a great hairstylist.”

“Just a shampoo and conditioning treatment?” “Yeah I think I’m good on a trim I got one last week.” “Last week? I didn’t work last week…” “Baby…sweetheart…please don’t try to drown me just because I let someone else trim my hair…” “who did it? Was it Stacy? You let Stacy touch your hair?” “It was Tammy…” “Tammy? Eddie she can’t even do even cuts let alone layers.” “I just had her trim the bangs that’s all the rest I had her leave alone.” “Oh thank god…so you need a trim then?” “No…I’m growing it out.” “I’m gonna give you a trim…just to get the split ends you know those drive me up a wall.” “Fine baby do whatever you want…can I get that stuff put in it that smells like apples?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #boyfriend eddie munson #eddie munson concept #eddie munson request #eddie munson blurb #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

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kogameh · 9 months

Text

Some extended translations notes for episode 1

(Or moreso why certain things are translated as it is, because, uh, I put a lot of thought into these subs...)

"Crash through every obstacle."

Now this is the most important one. It IS the series' tagline and Hitto's catchphrase and you WILL be hearing it a lot. HKsubs and most summaries used "overcome the difficulties". D-rights used "Crash your adversity" (this is still the ONLY official English translation we got for Crash lmao) which, imo, both are fine as it is but if we look at the original sentence in Japanese further-

逆境を撃ち破れ uses the 撃 kanji instead of the more common 打ち破れ.

There's DEFINITELY a "crash" pun that needed to be made here, and D-rights' translation definitely went with that intention in mind. But I also don't want it to sound overly quirky like you see with hissatsu lines and all and prefer it as a proper motivational quote, so, yeah.

Uh, now that you know the breakdown/context/etc, with that in mind, I went with "Crash through any obstacles". It sounds both cool AND motivating, and the obstacles could apply to both the actual objects or struggles Hitto would face. There are def other ways I could go like "Crash through any hardship", "Break through every difficulties" etc, but I mainly wanted to avoid something too cheesy or too dry but still applicable in most situations? Yeah.

But eh, this could be just me though. You're always to suggest me something better that fits my description for it. Plus the quote can still be flexible if I eventually decide to do that. (Mainly keeping the "Crash Through Every"!)

Whatever the fuck Koutarou was reading

This...was frankly the hardest part to translate in the entire ep orz. Unfortunately, I lack knowledge of Japanese proses and stuff so googling his entire reading yielded nothing--however, some lines did appear to reference so actual literature and idioms.

"The mountains may have burned, but the birds...scorch themselves for their beloved children..." - This line supposedly references the lyrics to a folk song? It is a slightly different lyric though as it originally says 山は焼けても山鳥ゃ立たぬ子ほど可愛いいものはない ("The mountains may have burned, but the birds didn't stand up, there's nothing cuter than a child"?). I can't be sure if this is an obscure song or not as googling a similar title is not giving me songs with the same lyrics. But eh. At least you know what Koutarou is referencing.

"Thou one shall not be lost like the fading mountain…like a parent who continues to feed into their child's greed." - OKAY THIS ONE IS FUNNY. Apparently the latter half was a reference to a proverb that originally says 子故に迷う親心 (A parent's mind is lost because of their child) which -- refers to parents that worry or spoil their child too much? OBVIOUSLY Koutarou is throwing shade at Hitto here as he didn't want to be "that" kind of parent towards his son so I did take some liberties with "feed into their child's greed" to emphasize that, rather than literally translating the phrase word by word haha.

"...destroy everything here marble-lously."

OKAY BEFORE ANYONE STARTS RAISING PITCHFORKS AT ME, YOU NEED TO DO THAT TO KODOH FIRST BECAUSE HE WAS ACTUALLY SAYING A PUN IN THIS SCENE.

I think these excerpts from B-Daman wikia explains the original double meaning well:

There's just sadly no elegant way to translate his lines into English without making it sound meme-y. I COULD translate the line literally like the image above but will that give you the same damage of hearing a stupid pun spit out from his mouth? Idk. My reasons for not literally translating this are not that convincing but I do hope you feel anguish knowing that Kodoh's debut line was a stupid damn pun. God. WHY IS HE MY OSHI.

"Rattlebrain"

One of Konta's catchphrase, "ガチャガチャ" / "gacha gacha". I think the MEANING Konta explained (as shown in the third screenshot) is important here, as originally he said 何が出てくるがわからない ("You don't know what's gonna come out") as it's obviously referencing to the randomness of actual gachas. I think going with translations like "fickle-minded" or "reckless" should work fine, but I will emphasize the fact that a) most people are often confused when he started saying it, implying that its not a common word or made up by Konta b) I do want to reference the "gacha gacha" as in the "shakey and clattering" onomatopoeia and the RNGs of real gachas. So yeah. Rattlebrain it is. I think it still delivers the same energy and intention that I mentioned. Plus my friend (Double) said "it's like Hitto's brain is a tin with marbles rolling around in it." WHICH, IS AN APT COMPARISON, ACTUALLY. And hence why I went with rattlebrain. Yeah. ~~~

An afterword: Crash's first ep is not the most complex to translate, but it does introduce some mainstay lines that you will hear a lot throughout the series (and may possibly be constantly mentioned in the fandom) and I think giving memorable, in-character translations is especially important when it comes to catchphrases and such.

It's those phrases where its double meaning and wordplay could be easily glossed over in most contexts (and I don't blame anyone if they do haha) but I personally do want to deliver the accurate intention and personality with these lines, hence the breakdowns. This is where having any familiarity with the source material is important, especially when you're translating an older show instead of an ongoing one. I mean, do you REALLY think me, the Crashhead here would gloss over such details? No.

And...yeah! I hope that was a helpful read? I'll emphasize that my translations are not perfect, but at the very least I want to put all my heart into them since, Crash is a series I hold close to my heart...over anything else, haha.

#kogami tries

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silvertherogue715 · 6 months

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Hey. It's been a hot minute since i've posted any art. I really just post for myself, but i felt especially proud of the progress ive made over the course of (many) months designing the Sunstar of my BrainrotAU. Feel free to disregard! I'm just gonna ramble. Art will be included in the 'keep reading' section though.

I didn't want to deal with uploading the actual art files, and just used snippet to capture pieces of my art instead. The pictures could be irregularly large or small as a result--I don't have a good way to control then when using snippet. Sorry! Some old art of Sunstar.exe (not in order):

So, as you can see above, a lot of blue. It's kind of overpowering, honestly, and it took me a while to figure out I needed to start making changes to his color palette.

This was his first half body reference sheet. A ton of blue. Also my only REF of him with his back showing. I haven't updated his back design yet, but the final product will be much different.

Eventually, I decided to make his shoulder-braiser things orange instead of blue, as well as the sun-like gem on his helmet. I also started working out any built-in flaws I wanted to force his character to work around--like his hands being constantly on fire, or extremely hot. This just means he has to be extremely careful touching anything or anyone. It's not something he can just "turn off". Also, I think this was my first attempt at a proper full body design for him. It's fine for a second first attempt, and I was happy with it for a few months, but eventually I started thinking it shared the bulky OG robot master traits, rather than the 'netnavi' look I was wanting.

I started tinkering with his colors again, but only made minor changes. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was 'off' to me without a proper full body to experiment on, but I very rarely have the willpower to make one. Some of these expression snippets were more helpful for me to use to at least get a read on exactly how expressive he can be in the AU, if he wanted to. Another big thing this helped me realize was how limited his expressions felt with the current colors (like his eyelashes), especially with how dark his face was. It made his nose/mouth harder to see. I end up making it a lighter shade in future doodles. Oh, and I wanted to start integrating pieces of Duo.exe's design into him as well--like the flat nose.

Woe, Sunterra doodle be upon ye. I need to finish this some day, but a big thing this helped me identify were: 1.) I desperately need to work on poses. 2.) I needed to figure out how to give Sunstar a "soft" look. In the expressions practice above, this was one of his faces i really struggled to get down. Still working on that. 3.) Another reminder he was too clunky to match a normal Navi design. Terra looks much more 'navi'-like. I needed to do a whole ass reboot for Sunstar from top-down. Anyway! The most recent stuff will be below. A few (bad) attempts:

And then I basically went "screw it" and went goblin mode at a full body attempt. Here's what I finally ended up with :")

For now I've decided to stick with a (mostly) cool/silver base with some warm orange and yellows mixed in in (hopefully) unobtrusive ways. Maybe this will change in the future, but for now I'm happy with his design :)

The orange on the bottom of his cape is meant to be a fire-y design, but I'm too tired to refine it (or anything else) further. Hopefully I'll have more art to update. eventually.

If you made it this far, thanks for sticking around, lol.

#my art #brainrotau #mmbnau #stardroids #sunstar #megamansunstar #sketch #doodle #megaman #mega man battle network

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judgeanon · 1 year

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Plastic Skies - Model 8: F-16A Falcon

It’s been a little under two months since the last time I posted one of these, but without being dramatic, it feels closer to two years. Issues with getting paid at work meant I spent most of the early weeks of 2023 in a constant state of anxiety, and models only added to it. Or rather, knowing that I wasn’t gonna be getting any models done any time soon. Eventually, the fever broke and after paying any outstanding debts, I decided to treat myself. And it sure was a treat.

I like the F-16 Falcon a lot. Light, compact but still sporting some fine lines and a great silhouette, I always think of it as the pony car to the F-14′s muscle drag racer. The Camaro of fighter jets. That love for the F-16 runs deep, since I remember it being another one of the kits my brother or I built as kids, and one I had a big fondness for. The intake in particular I remember thinking looked very cool. And more recently, I kept running into it on every single Ace Combat game I touched, along with its cool seafaring Japanese cousin, the F-2.

Speaking of Japan, this particular F-16 comes from the fine folks at Hobby Boss, and is the first time I bought a Japanese kit. I got it for a decent price and at a 1/72 scale, mostly because all the 1/144 kits I could find had some wacky paintjob or something. So HB it was, and right out of the box, I was in love. The plastic felt strong and durable, the pieces all looked beautiful, none of them had to be cut or drilled, and as I would later find out, the kit came witha bunch of small touches to make it an extremely easy build.

Along with the model, I also bought a couple of extra tools and paints I’d been missing, including one that was an immediate “How the FUCK have I been doing this for so long without you?” moment: a pair of spruce cutting pliers that made separating parts an absolute joy. That was, in general, my main goal with this model. Joy, relaxation, just having a good time building one of my favorites and giving it a cool desert camo job (appropriate, considering the scorching summer we had while I was building it). But I also had a bunch of other goals in mind that turned this kit into a test bed of sorts.

The first and most obvious one was finally getting to use a bottle of Mig Jimenez’ AMMO paint, a particular shade of grey I bought months ago in preparation for the “final boss” project I’ve had in my mind pretty much since I started doing this stuff. It’s a very strange kind of grey, almost turquoise under certain lights, but definitely eyecatching. I wanted to see how it’d look like when applied, and while it was a little weird at first, the more I got used to it, the more I liked it.

For the top, as mentioned above, I decided to go for a desert camo. I'd already painted two woodland camos before, so I figured this would be a nice change of pace while still using brown. Beyond the paints, however, the build proved to be really satisfying. All the pieces fit together perfectly (although some required a bit more pressure than usual) and the whole model, even before being finished, felt sturdy in ways no other model had felt so far. Turns out, the “Boss” part of Hobby Boss ain’t just hype.

Speaking of Japan, I also bought a can of Tamiya’s burnt iron metallic paint, since I’d seen it in a lot of instruction manuals. And just like every other metallic paint before it, I immediately fell in love with its easy application and lovely tone. This feels like the edgy member of the metallic paint crew and if I could, I’d probably try to paint a whole plane with it. Just to see what that’d look like.

And speaking of paints, the brown part was a bit painful, requiring about three coats before it looked decent enough to varnish. Maybe I need to start using primer, but I swear I have three or four specific paints that just refuse to stick properly until I get a bunch of coats in there. A bit frustrating, but the end result was still decent enough, and before I knew it, it was time for decals.

This is where things got a little interesting: the model I bought had decals for the Belgian and Norwegian air forces. But I had other plans. Using a couple of USAF roundels leftover from my F-14 Tomcat (as seen in Plastic Skies: Model 3) and a pair of emblems from the Ace Combat decal sheet I’d ordered last year, I decided to turn this into a Warwolf Squadron F-16, from Ace Combat: Assault Horizon. It was never going to be canon, since that game’s desert F-16 has a different camo scheme and I didn’t have any serial number decals, but the idea was to test the decals I did have while also finally doing something with those USAF emblems. And something was done indeed.

Unfortunately, however, decal application ended up being an absolute mess. The sheet that came with the plane was extremely packed together, so cutting around things was a terrifying labor. The decal solution I used dried up terribly quick, leading to decals that landed on a surface and immediately refused to move no matter what I tried. And one or two decals were just absolutely nuts to begin with. The job was taxing and the results were a bit disheartening, but I’ve long since learned to accept imperfections. Or at least, I try.

Lastly, I applied a bit of grey wash to accent the panel lines, a process that continues to haunt me. I’m trying not to rely on the “sludge” method of just covering the entire surface in wash and then cleaning it up, but I’ve tried three brands of wash so far and none of them seem to really slip into the lines as easily as advertised. I’m worried that I might be the problem, that my paints and varnishes may be so thick that the washes just can’t find the lines, but despite asking a couple of shop owners it seems like I’m doing everything right. Oh well.

Of course, you might notice something missing, and not just talent or skill. Hobby Boss, turns out, sells missiles and other weaponry separate from their models. I already knew this going in, having looked at the model on a few websites, and to be honest it was a little relaxing to not have to worry about tiny little decals on tiny little missiles. Plus, I already have a plan laid out to deal with this. But the way things are going, it might take a while.

Despite problems big and small, I’m pretty happy with this F-16. Every time I spend more than a month without building a new kit, I’m terrified that I’ll get rusty, that my hands will forget the meager skills I’ve gained so far and that my final goal keeps getting away. So doing something in this scale and spending so much time on it was a relief in several ways. And who knows? Maybe someday I will find some applicable serial decals for the fin. Still, it’s good to be back on the saddle.

And thanks to a very generous friend, the wait until the next one would end up being way, way shorter this time.

#My Stuff #Hobbies #Journals #Ace Combat Assault Horizon #Warwolf #Funky shades of grey

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phoenix-is-the-hottest-thing · 1 year

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Sorry for being weird in your askbox but do you have any tips on how to write erotic fanfiction if you're a virgin ,

Kind regards

Not a weird question at all! Personal experience isn’t that important since you’re only writing it, don’t worry.

Main things are the following:

Read a lot of porn for stylistic reference, and check out websites like Scarlateen to know how it ACTUALLY works. (yes that means you’ll have to at least look at diagrams at some point.)

Why? Well. A minimum of sex ed is pretty important to write smut that won’t make your readers cringe in pain/weirded out, and you want to know what body parts are called or how they interact with one another. Sex in particular is extremely romanticized and exaggerated in media, so you’ll want to have a solid reference of the truth before you start writing your own exaggerations, else you’ll end up with whatever the hell is happening on pixiv on a daily basis.

(Do not trust porn or hentai for facts, they tend to have a half-decent grasp on dicks but absolutely do not know how anything else works, especially hentai. The amount of times I’ve caught a glimpse of breasts being treated like they cum milk… my guess is that it’s mostly cis guy making that and they’re making very wrong assumptions.)

It’s just like everything else in writing, you can break rules and write something unrealistic or unusual if you want, but to do good work you have to already know the usual way things go. Know the rules before you break them!!! Educate yourself!!!!!

Additionally you’ll want to learn about concepts like consent, kink, and protection, not just anatomy. Same reason, know how the rules work before you try to bend or break them. Else you’ll probably let unconscious bias drive your writing and you’ll get swamped by unfortunate implications. (Talking from personal experience with my first fic lmao, it wasn’t literal smut but by god was it creepy how clueless I was. Or 50 shades of Gray that’s apparently a horrid misrepresentation of what BDSM culture is actually like.)

As for how to write a sex scene, it’s very similar to a fight scene. It’s a lot about the gestures but without a minimum of thought, feelings or descriptions it just sounds like an ikea building manual, so watch out. Mind your rhythm as well.

Final advice, make sure you acknowledge the agency of your characters!

Sex isn’t something that should just be happening to someone, all participants should be doing something, even if it’s grumbling that they can’t do anything coz they’re tied up. Thoughts and feelings and sensations, every participant should be having them, even if it’s not explicit. Hell, even if they’re asleep, there should be some reaction of some kind, or a specific remark about a lack of reaction, just make sure that area is covered so you’re not straight up ignoring their agency exists.

Otherwise you end up with a sex toy instead of a character.

(Which, mind you, can be a kink in itself and that’s totally fine, but that would be a “break the rule only once you know it exists” case. No kinkshaming here.)

You don’t have to, but I would start off slow with a short and sweet scene if you’re feeling awkward about your first erotica. Keep it simple. Or you can go crazy and add tentacles or aliens, really, it’s up to you, it’s just that writing something simple is probably gonna be easier. I did start on the tentacle stuff though so really you can just do whatever you want.

Ease yourself into it, practice, don’t be shy! Sex is a very natural (not obligatory! just natural!) part of life and nothing to be ashamed of, be it irl or in writing.

Oh and make sure you don’t sear anyone’s eyeballs, warn for your content appropriately when you share your work! Be a good neighbor when sharing a public space.

#lemons #writing tips #asks #writers on tumblr

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