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w2sarcher · 6 months

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noisy neighbour part one | harry lewis

summary: in which y/n owns a coffee shop and harry is her noisy neighbour

word count : 4.3k

a/n: this is part one of my noisy neighbour series!!! this is the first full length fic (non insta au) that i've written on here so hopefully it's not half bad and you all enjoy it. any feedback much appreciated xx

requests: open for insta au's and short storys xxx

rest of my work hereeee : masterlist

✩ ✩ ✩

Y/N was having the worst week imaginable.

For just over a year, she had poured her heart and soul into her coffee shop, 'Sweetheart's Sip' (a cheesy name, she knows), that was located in the heart of Shoreditch, a few roads away from Boxpark. It had always been a dream of hers to open her own little cafe, and a few years after leaving university, she did just that. It was one of her biggest goals to spread the joy of enjoying a tasty slice of lemon cake or hearty brewed cup of breakfast tea to everyone in the area, and after searching for what felt like years, Y/N found a vacancy for a small shop in London that luckily had a flat free above it. With a few trips to Ikea and endless nights of painting and decorating, Y/N was finally able to call 'Sweetheart's Sip' her home.

Living above her shop was so convenient for her, as she opened at 7:30 most days, and when she was left closing late after a busy day of making flat whites, it was nice for her to just trod upstairs and into her peaceful solitude, not having to worry about catching a tube or bus halfway across the city.

The shop just next to her cafe had a flat above it that had been vacant for ages, long before Y/N had even opened her little place. However, recent weeks saw the arrival of many construction crews and noise, some with cameras, which she found quite odd but intriguing, signalling a new tenant for the adjacent flat was on their way.

And this is why Y/N was having a bad week.

Don't get her wrong; she was excited to meet her new neighbour. She had even made bets in her head that it would be some trendy hipster (it was Shoreditch after all) or hopefully a quiet office-goer who wouldn't make too much noise. But Y/N had lost her own bet; she was completely off with her guesses.

Instead, as the days passed and her neighbour moved in, all she could hear was loud house music and a male voice shouting for a good 6 hours out of the day—this was no trendy hipster or quiet office-goer.

The noise was so bad that the whole cute atmosphere of 'Sweetheart's Sip' felt completely disrupted, the loud music drowning out the conversations of her customers sipping away at their coffees.

So, a week passed before Y/N let the noise get the best of her. She'd taken numerous trips to Boots for paracetamol to try and numb her headache, but it wasn't enough; she needed to confront the noisy neighbour head-on. But Y/N hated confrontation; the thought of having to single out someone and tell them that they needed to essentially 'Shut up' was making her headaches even worse, especially when this person was someone she'd never met and now a person that could be living next to her for years to come.

She knew she had to do it, though. As much as it pained her to do so, the noise was so bad. Disrupting her in her own flat was one thing, but the fact that customers were reluctant to enter in fear that they'd hear thumping music that was enough to shake the teapots hung up on the wall was Y/N's breaking point.

She flipped the sign on the front door of the cafe from 'open' to 'close' as no one was in the cafe, a rarity for Y/N but no surprise with the past week's events. Taking three deep breaths, she rehearsed a little speech in her head, unsure of who would be waiting on the other side of the door. ''You can do this, Y/N,'' she thought in her head. Rehearsing a little speech was something Y/N always did whenever she had to talk to new people. Or if she knew she was going to a new restaurant, she'd have to rehearse her food order in her head about a hundred times before telling the waiter. It made her feel less anxious, and anxious was exactly how she felt right now.

Ringing the buzzer of the blue door, she heard a man's voice shout, ''One-second boys, think my Deliveroo driver's here.''

The sudden thought of turning back and going back next door was so tempting at that moment, but she knew if she turned around, there'd be no resolution to the issues, and one terrible week would soon turn into a terrible month.

A waft of aftershave hit her in the face as the door opened, and she was met face-to-face with the noisy culprit she'd been so apprehensive to introduce herself to. A rugged man, blonde-haired with scruffy facial hair and blue eyes, similar in age to her, stood in front of her. Expecting a food delivery driver, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her. She stood awkwardly outside his front door with her green apron on that she'd forgotten to take off before closing up.

She could still hear the heavy bass of house music pounding from upstairs, this time much louder.

Clearing his throat, the man spoke. ''Can I help you?'' His voice was deep and quite posh, but still nice, she thought.

''S-sorry. I mean yes,'' she paused, jumbling up her words, the rehearsed speech gone out the window. ''-I'm from next door, the cafe?''

''Oh right.'' he laughed, leaning against the door frame. ''Yeah, Sweetheart's shit or something like that?'' What a rubbish attempt at a joke, or maybe just plain rudeness, she thought.

''Sweetheart's sip, not shit,'' she stated, to which he smiled back.

''Oh right, well... What can I do for you?'' he asked, looking down at his phone to see if his Deliveroo app had updated an estimated time of arrival for his chicken burger, not half interested in what she had to say.

''Well, as I said, I'm from next door, and I've had a few complaints from customers about loud music and shouting coming from your flat, and I was just wondering if there was any chance you'd keep it down a bit?'' she asked. '’I hate asking, but it's sort of taking a toll on my shop.''

''What? The sweetheart's got nowhere to shit anymore?'' he tried, but was met with a stern look from the small girl standing on his doorstep. ''Right, not funny. Sorry, I'll try to keep the noise down.''

''Thank you.'' she smiled.

''Anything else?'' he said, eyebrows raised.

''No, that's all; I've got to get back,'' Y/N replied, pointing towards her cafe.

Turning on her heels, a sigh of relief left her lips as she retreated back to the shop. That wasn't too hard, she realised. The problem of loud music and shouting was finally resolved. She could get back to her sweet little cafe, and her regulars would finally have their quiet place back to chinwag again.

But as she was nearing the door, she heard the man clear his throat, shouting over the noise of traffic that passed them both. '''Before you go, any chance you know the person that lives above your cafe? You know the one that's next door to me upstairs?''

She turned back to face him, seeing his head sticking out the door, slippers clad on his feet so he would not step barefoot on the dirty London pavements.

''I do, yeah,'' she replied. She didn't necessarily want to let the man know that it was, in fact, her that lived next door to him. She couldn't be bothered to make small talk, as she needed to get back to work. And if her initial introduction was anything to go off of, she didn't think this man would be someone who'd want to make small talk with her anyway.

''Any chance if you see them, you'd tell them to keep their own music down? Kept me up the whole of Saturday and Sunday night listening to ABBA.'' he said, pinching in between his eyes as if to emphasise that he had a headache all weekend from it.

''Really?'' she said.

''Yes. Honestly, if you think my music is bad, you should have heard the screechy singing I had to put up with all weekend. Like nails on a chalkboard,'' he laughed.

Y/N was embarrassed. Not only had it taken all her courage, paired with a few rehearsal speeches, to come and confront her noisy neighbour, she had now been told that her music and singing were in fact much worse and the reason for his headaches. She wanted to hide away in her flat; she was mortified.

Turning back towards her door in attempts to get as far away as possible from the reason for her embarrassment, she muffled a quick ''I'll let them know.'' before retreating quickly into the front door of her cafe.

✩ ✩ ✩

A few days had passed since her awkward encounter, and luckily for Y/N, she hadn't seen the sight of her noisy neighbour since then.

She descended the stairs from her flat and unlocked the front door of her cafe, bracing herself for what she knew would be a busy day. Fridays were always Y/N's busiest, whether that was people popping in during their work break, tourists stopping by to try something 'authentically British' or just her regulars back to try the 'cake of the month', Fridays just always seemed to draw in more people than any other day.

The brief encounter she had with her neighbour had lingered in her mind the whole week. While the music and shouting had quietened down, every so often, Y/N would hear the start of a house tune or a loud shout that only made her wince and think that maybe her embarrassing confrontation was all for nothing.

Today, however, silence greeted Y/N as she walked into the cafe, ready to start the coffee machine and display her various sweet treats on the counter. She had never felt more grateful.

Throughout the day, customers came and went, their conversations having a soothing melody compared to the previous week's discord. Y/N felt like she could finally relax and enjoy the solace of their company, grateful for the return of the peaceful cafe that she had worked so hard to create.

As evening came around, Y/N was getting ready to close up her shop and retreat upstairs to her apartment, eager to unwind. She loved her Friday routine—she'd go upstairs, stick on a pair of cosy Primark pyjamas, light a scented candle, indulge in a simple dinner (usually the Gigi Hadid Vodka Pasta off Tiktok), and curl up on her sofa, flicking through the television and ultimately landing on an episode of Real Housewives.

Her back was turned as she began to clean the coffee machine. Looking at the clock, she could see it was 5 minutes to 5 p.m., and at this point, she doubted anyone would come in at this time, so she kept herself busy, cleaning away so she could rush upstairs.

4 minutes to close, and she heard the door chime. Her tranquilly was short-lived. Before turning around, she heard a man's voice: ''You're not closed yet, are you?''—that unmistakable man's voice that had been ringing in her ears and around her mind since the whole door confrontation moment. Y/N's heart dropped. Had he finally realised she was the'screechy 'neighbour playing ABBA at last?

''Oh hi.'' she smiled, throwing the cloth she was using to clean the coffee machine under the counter. ''What can I do for you?''

''Hello'' he paused. ''I'm in the mood for a sweet treat after a long day. You got anything like that?''

''Hmm,'' she hummed, her eyes scanning the very little treats she had left after her own busy day. ''I've got two slices of lemon cake or some chocolate cupcakes if you fancy?'' God, she hated this. Trying to act polite and unbothered, when in reality all she could think about was the fact that he'd probably heard her every move for the past two weeks.

''Oooh.'' He looked carefully at the baked goods, noting that there were many options. ''You know what? I'll have one of each. It's been a long day today.''

Y/N knew what he was doing. Nearly every customer did it. They'd drop subtly into conversation about how their day was going badly or what sort of plans they had later, in hopes that Y/N would entertain them for a brief second. She didn't mind usually; it was nice to hear about a stranger's life for a brief second, something to take her mind off the fact she was actually working.

But right now, she hated the fact that she probably had to entertain his huffs about having a long day. She'd look rude if she didn't—being a business owner and all—even if he had already heard her belt out the lyrics to 'Dancing Queen' not so long ago.

''Coming right up,'' she said, grabbing two boxes with branded stickers that said 'Sweetheart's Sip' on them—she'd gotten them off Etsy. ''Long day, you said? How so?''

He had taken off his backpack, leaning onto the counter. Oh, he was getting comfortable, she thought. Great.

''Just a long day of shoots. Feel like I've been around the whole of London ten times over.'' he sighed.

''Shoots?'' She looked up at him as she cut a slice of lemon cake.

''Yeah, like video shoots.'' He paused, his cheeks flushing a bit red. ''Like Youtube. I do Youtube.''

Y/N had never met a YouTuber. Sure, she'd seen a few videos over the years, her comfort watch being a classic Zoella vlog, but that was the extent of it. She much rather indulge in reality TV—'a true brain rotter', her mum would always say.

''Oh wow. That's very cool,'' she said genuinely, placing two boxes in front of the man.

He smiled and said, "That's nice of you to say. I usually get the classic 'Does that even pay well?' sort of response. ''

''Well, does it?'' she let out a small laugh, ''Only joking.''

Y/N felt proud of herself at that moment. The small talk wasn't as awful as she thought it'd be. The idea of her singing and him having an agonising headache all weekend had gone out of her head.

''Pays well enough for me to treat myself to a slice of lemon cake and a chocolate cupcake, if that's what you're asking.'' he laughed back. ''How much do I owe you?''

Usually, Y/N would have lapped up any chance to make some more cash, but considering she was serving the same neighbour she had been supposedly keeping up with all weekend with her own renditions of 'The Winner Takes It All', she thought she'd be nice.

''It's on the house.''

''You sure?'' he said, holding the two boxes in one hand and his backpack in the other.

''Of course.'' she smiled. ''Long day and all.''

''Well, thank you, then,'' he smiled. ''I'll see you around then; have a nice weekend.”

''You too,bye,'' she watched as he walked towards the door. She turned her back, picking up the cloth she had once thrown in haste, and began to clean again.

''Oh, actually,'' The voice began, and she realised he hadn't left yet. ''Did you manage to talk to my neighbour yet? Just the racket hasn't stopped since.''

She could have died on the spot. He was so dramatic. Since their little incident, she had toned it down on the ABBA tunes, stoically sticking to singing in the shower and the occasional hum of a tune as she cooked dinner—nothing outrageous.

''No, I haven't seen them yet.'' she lied.

''Right, okay. Well, I'll be off then,'' he settled. ''Also, before I go, I just want to say sorry for being short with you the other day; you just caught me at a bad time.''

She smiled. So maybe he wasn't as rude as he came across the first time they met.

''No worries, all forgotten'' she said. Lie, as if she'd ever forget that moment.

He gave her an odd thumbs up, and she watched him as he walked out of the shop, turning left momentarily and then stopping at his front door to unlock it.

'The racket hasn't stopped' She thought of his words. What a load of rubbish. If anyone had the right to complain about noise, it was her with his deafening screams that she now assumed had something to do with the whole 'Youtuber thing' and not to forget his god-awful drum and bass.

Even though he had apologised for their first meeting, Y/N sort of wished she hadn't given him those free treats now.

✩ ✩ ✩

The weekend passed with Y/N enjoying her days off, and luckily her days off were silent; there was no loud noise from next door. Y/N had seen no more of the 'noisy Youtuber' she was now referring to him as. She had wished she had gotten his name so she could have done some stalking or at least come up with a reason for all the shouting. She thought he must have been one of those crazy gaming channels.

Monday came around quickly after the weekend, a quiet day for Y/N. She'd get a few people on their work journey in for an Americano or the occasional little old lady to come in for a morning cup of tea, but that was about it. It was a slow day. But Y/N didn't mind; it meant she could do all the tasks that she had left from the week before—a little bit of admin, ordering new coffee beans, replacing any damaged cups—all that sort of thing.

She ran the cafe solely by herself, and while sometimes it felt like she was in over her head, it was also very peaceful. She was her own boss and also had no one to boss around, which she loved because she was very bad at telling people what to do - a bit shy in that aspect.

She had just finished serving an old lady a slice of carrot cake when she heard the door chime. In waltzed her noisy neighbour. For fuck sakes, not again.

He walked in, the sunlight from outside dancing upon his tousled blonde locks, casting what almost looked like a golden halo around his head. His cheeks were flushed and his face was shiny; he must have been coming from the gym.

Clad in a blue and white hoodie adorned with bold red lettering, he exuded effortless athleticism. Y/N thought if she hadn't been so hindered by his presence, she might actually fancy him. The way the fabric hugged his toned body, accentuating the contours of his chiselled frame, There was no denying that he was an attractive man.

As he moved closer to the counter, Y/N let out an exhale—a breath she didn't even realise she had been holding.

''Hello again.'' he smiled, placing a medium-sized box on the counter. She hadn't even realised he was holding anything when he entered the shop; too busy staring at his face.

''Hi.'' She smiled back at him, surprised she'd managed to even get any words out. ''What can I get for you?''

''Oh, nothing today,'' he paused. '',though the food the other day was amazing, honestly, no complaints. ''

''I'm glad.'' she grinned. She knew her baked goods were delicious, but hearing it from other people was always lovely.

''It's just that I got a parcel delivered to mine, but I think it's actually meant for my neighbour. I rang their doorbell, but they didn't answer.'' His eyes narrowed, looking at the name on the front of the parcel.

''Oh, right.'' she said. Shit, shit, shit. That's all that was going around in her mind. It's her bloody parcel, and he's got it.

''Yeah, I was just wondering if you had a way to get a hold of them. Says the name on the front is Y/N.''

She was screwed. Absolutely screwed. He knew her name. Well, he knew the name of his neighbour, but he didn't know that that same name belonged to her. All it took now was for one of her regulars to come through the doors shouting 'Afternoon, Y/N' and her cover was blown. She was truly fucked, she thought.

Y/N wasn't even sure herself at this point why she was so desperate for him to not know that it was her living next door to him. Maybe it was the fact that he had heard her sing every 80's song known to man in one weekend, but it can't have been because she'd heard him sing equally worse over the last few weeks. Sure, she had even heard his numerous shouts that still startled her; God knows what he was up to in there. But still, despite all that, she felt embarrassed at the thought of telling him now that she was the girl next door. It had gone too far now.

''I haven't heard anything from them in a while. Maybe they're on holiday,'' she lied further.

''No, I don't think so,'' his face screwed in a look of concentration as he tried to come up with something plausable as to what his'mystery neighbour' was up to. '' I heard them singing again last night. They're definitely about.''

''Oh, that's strange, then.'' The lie just kept going; she couldn't stop. She was in too deep.

''I'll have to try again later, I suppose.'' She wasn't going to answer if he came ringing her doorbell later. She couldn't even remember what she had ordered at this rate, but all she knew was that whatever was in that box was not worth the humiliation that she'd feel if her lie was exposed.

''I guess so.'' she paused. ''You sure I can't get you anything while you're here?''

He pondered for a second, his eyes scanning the menu hung up on the wall. Various coffees, teas, matcha, and cakes ''Actually, I'll take a chamomile tea if that's alright.''

''Coming right up,'' she smiled.

She moved behind the counter, grabbing a stainless steel jug to fill up with hot water. She could feel his eyes on her as she took a blue disposable cup, placing it in front of him. A little wooden spoon was placed on the side too.

Once the hot water had filled the jug, she took out a chamomile tea bag, placing it in the cup and pushing the tray towards him.

''There you go. That's two pounds when you're ready.'' she said, tapping two pounds and holding the card reader towards him.

He tapped his card and lifted the cup that held his chamomile tea on it with one hand, the box in the other.

''Thank you.'' he said. ''Hopefully, I'll see you later when you can get hold of my neighbour.''

''I'll keep you updated.'' She smiled back, the most unconvincing smile she'd probably ever made.

As he left, Y/N felt herself sink into the counter, her head hanging down. What was she going to do?

✩ ✩ ✩

The weeks passed in a blur for Y/N, each day blending into the next as she worked tirelessly to keep her cafe running smoothly. But no matter how hard she tried to push the thought to the back of her mind, the truth of her situation lingered in the back of her mind, a constant reminder of the lie she was living.

It wasn't until one fateful day, when her noisy neighbour walked through the door of her cafe, that she realised she could no longer keep up the facade.

''Morning.'' he grinned, stepping through the door, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of Y/N behind the counter.

''Hi.'' she replied, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in her chest. ''What can I get for you?''

''Actually,'' he smiled. ''I was wondering if you'd managed to get hold of my neighbour yet?''

Y/N felt her heart sink at his words, a wave of guilt washing over her. She knew that she couldn't keep lying to him and that she had to come clean about who she really was.

''Actually,'' she said, her voice trembling slightly. ''I am your neighbour .''

He stared at her in disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. ''You're joking, right?'' he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

''No, I'm serious.'' she replied, her voice barely audible over the sound of her pounding heart. ''I'm the one who's been causing all the noise.''

Her neighbour's shock quickly turned to amusement as he burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the empty cafe. ''You're having me on.'' he said, shaking his head in disbelief. ''All this time, I thought it was some crazy person living up there.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. ''But you're one to talk; don't think there's a day that's gone by where I haven't heard you shouting.''

He laughed, holding his hands up in defeat. ''That is fair; I'm sorry as well.''

She smiled, and a sense of relief washed over her. He wasn't angry that she'd dragged her silly lie out for the past few weeks. And if anything, it was amusing to her too—the pair were both as loud as each other, complaining about the other's noise - a pair of idiots.

'''Honestly, I should have guessed it was you sooner.'' her neighbour said, still chuckling to himself. ''With your little cafe here, I never see you leave.''

''Home and work all rolled into one.'' she smiled.

A silence came over the two, and Y/N couldn't tell if it was awkward or not. But the truth was finally out. There was no dancing around her little lies anymore. All the awkwardness was gone.

He broke the silence. ''Well, now that we've got that sorted, where do we go from here?''

''I mean, a proper introduction on my part is probably needed,'' she laughed. ''I'm Y/N, but you knew that already, sort of?''

A smile tugged on the corners of his face. ''Good to put a face to the name.'' he paused. ''I'm Harry.''

Finally a name, Y/N thought.

Harry. Harry, her noisy neighbour.

a/n: thanks for reading!!! part two out soon!!! split up my writing into parts so it's not too long to read. hope u all enjoyed. bit of a slow burn but more to come!!! xxx

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

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teencopandthesourwolf · 10 months

Text

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts.

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon.

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him.

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip.

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive.

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek.

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony.

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.”

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!”

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek.

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

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conkreetmonkey · 11 months

Text

Splatoon 3 is wild because imagine if you were living in Japan due to a recent economic and cultural boom, and suddenly a space shuttle with a mutant house-sized T-rex riding it suddenly burst from the center of Mt. Fuji and disappeared into space without explanation, and all you ever find out about what the fuck that was about is that Zuckerburg mysteriously disappeared the same day and was never seen again, but still "officially" ran Meta through an open secret Queen-Elizabeth-being-in-good-health gaslighting campaign, and everybody kind of suspected he may have been connected but never figured out anything conclusive.

Also the T-rex is now orbiting the earth in the fetal position like the guy from Jojo, and there are rumors of a substance that, if touched, turns you into a half-dinosaur monster. Nobody understands any of this but Meta employees just keep going to work and pretending Zuck still exists. The same 12 prerecorded voicelines constantly squak from the PA system.

Oddly, the statue in front of Meta HQ of a T-rex eating a human changes overnight into one of a giant human eating a tiny T-rex. Nobody noticed the switch, despite the statue being in a constantly bustling area. It happened shortly after the shuttle incident.

Jack Black's tiny clone, Lil' Jack, now wears a headset at all times and has been acting really shady since the incident. Also they're both hyperintelligent, immortal velociraptors found in an ancient cryogenic chamber who spend their days judging college football and eating the legally harvested flesh of hillbillies. Lil' Jack is probably plotting to kill Big Jack, but Big Jack doesn't seem to care, growing fat and lazy, sleeping on public benches in a bed of throw pillows. Also, he's very open about the fact that, as a velociraptor, humans look delicious, but he hasn't actually eaten anybody aside from the aforementioned hillbillies because he's civil.

Everyone is just expected to move on with their lives after this. This is normal to you.

The local art school was recently attacked by giant sea serpents, which were actually hideously bioengineered hillbillies, fulfilling a biblical doomsday prophecy, and they were driven back by Meta's army of minimum wage, part time child soldiers armed with warcrimey jury-rigged weaponry. The sea serpents had giant frying pans grafted into their mouths, which launched primitive tactical nukes made by filling garbage bags with their explosive blood. They still exist, and occasionally defend their comrades, but spend most of their time in the deep sea.

The local homeless emo twink everyone's attracted to is a closet millionaire who sells bootleg clothing in exchange for live rats, which he messily devours behind closed doors. He's also 8 feet tall and British and only has one eye.

North Korean refugees now flood the western world, after a greasy 14 year old hipster, under the guidance of Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift, beat Kim Jong Un in a mech battle, and the EDM remix of the Japanese national anthem they performed caused like half the soldiers to immediately realize North Korea sucks ass and defect. One of these individuals, 7 foot tall hypergenius, becomes a newscaster alongside a nepo baby rapper with dwarfism who likes to eat entire jars of mayo, and also they're a popular band. Also also, they may or may not be gay. Almost the entire population is gay, so this isn't a huge deal.

The new local newscasters are a famous Japanese lion tamer, an Indian girl with a bloodline trait allowing her to control snakes, and a Brazillian man the size of a smart car who exclusively communicates via grunts.

Gods, souls and zombies are objectively real, and you're effectively immortal because real-life respawning was invented a while ago. It works like a Keurig, but with mucus instead of coffee. Submersion in water kills you.

A good deal of the population is a hivemind. They pretend to be individuals for no reason.

Almost all men are now femboys.

Despite all this, you still have to go to work at 9 tomorrow.

#splatoon 3 #splatoon #splatoon fandom #splatpost #splatposting #splatoon lore #mr. grizz #new agent 3 #neo agent 3 #return of the mammalians

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 7 months

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points at u. how do u play eridan so well!!! hes such a tricky bastard to write for 4 some reason

It's because he's got so many problems and playing him is basically Mental Illness Simulator :') Whipped up a small (that's a lie, it's large and extensive) guide under the cut

ERIDAN DOES NOT HAVE FUN

First most important thing about playing Eridan: THIS BOY DOES NOT DO JOKES. He does NOT DO BITS. He does NOT HAVE FUN. If you check out his logs, pretty much every time he talks to somebody, he has a very clear purpose in mind (usually flirting or grandstanding). One of the few times he does strike up a conversation without a clear goal in mind, it's absolutely disastrous:

CA: fef CA: hey CC: ? CA: glub CC: Glub glub! CC: 38) CA: yeah CA: hm CC: W)(at is it!!! CA: wwhat

He's sooooooo so so so bad at conversation. He doesn't tell jokes. He doesn't know how to lighten the mood. He has no chill. He has no sense of humor. When playing him, if you are making jokes, you are doing it wrong!

The reason for this is because, psychologically, you have to imagine that he is constantly teetering on the edge of a murderous freakout. If he is not, at all times, Being Useful (AKA murderous, sea dweller-y), then Something Bad Will Happen. His entire life is about duty, pressure, responsibility, and, accordingly, at ALL TIMES, he feels an extreme, anxious weight on his shoulders, which makes him incapable of indulging in "frivolous" behavior, like making smalltalk or doing things for fun. In fact, sarcasm and facetiousness are literally considered childish by Alternians, and Equius associates it with lower blood colors:

CT: D --> Humorous insincerity is for pedantic wigglers AG: Pshhhhhhhh, I know! I know you never make jokes. I was the one 8eing sarcastic, you stooge! AG: I was 8eing sarcastic a8out you 8eing sarcastic. Duh. CT: D --> That's because you're a little worse than me

That's why it's also kind of important to make him not really have hobbies. Eridan DOES have interests: he loves wizards and magic, and he's a hipster. HOWEVER, he only ever talks about magic in pursuit of some other goal, like finding a date or winning at a rivalry, AND he's constantly denying his own interest in these things, because they're frivolous, stupid, ridiculous, and deviations from what he "should" be like. He actively distances himself from things that make him happy. In fact, we only know he's a hipster because it's part of his design and Karkat mentions it once - Eridan himself has never talked about it. That's how far he's buried anything that actually brings him joy.

If your Eridan is smiling for ANY REASON, you are DOING IT WRONG!

While we're on the topic, things Eridan is NOT ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN:

History (he only ever talks about history in the vaguest possible terms; I think he is book smart and genuinely knows a lot ABOUT history, but his actual interest in it is middling. He's just expected to be really obsessed with history, especially military history, as a member of the aristocracy, and he reads it in the same way as one doomscrolls on twitter - it's a way for him to self-reinforce his own mental illness and soothe his cognitive dissonance)

Marine life/marine anything (he's TERRIFIED of the ocean, and has spent a few days underwater TOTAL. He knows nothing of the sea.)

Weaponry (he HAS a lot of guns, so he definitely knows how to use and maintain them, but there's a reason he outsources the building of all his doomsday devices. Also, he got a "god weapon" early on in his life, and has kind of just been... using that. He neither has a need to know much about weaponry, nor has ever displayed any particular interest or knowledge. He leaves fully loaded harpoons just lying around on the floor of his house. It's knowledge of necessity, not interest.)

Hunting/Violence/Murder (he's really good at it, he knows a lot about it, he will teach you on request, he will mention it constantly, but he doesn't actually derive any particular joy out of it, especially since we know his thought process after each kill is "that's going to make an orphaned troll very sad. they will be culled soon :/")

Fashion (he has more of an interest than the average Alternian, but it's still not a lot. He dresses up to emulate Dualscar, and his actual clothing choices beyond that are pretty disastrous. Canon Eridan has never shown an interest in fashion. Even if you do want to play him with an interest in fashion, which I think is fine, you have to remember that he deliberately distances himself from anything that brings him joy, so even if he likes fashion, he'll keep that a secret and insist he only does it for utility purposes.)

Pale Romance (just throwing this in there, it's the one quadrant he is *never* shown to pursue. He's tried Feferi and Nepeta in flushed, Sollux, Terezi, and Kanaya in ashen, and Rose and Vriska in pitch. if anything, he goes out of his way to AVOID pale romances, both because he just had a painful pale breakup, and because he freaks out at the implication that he's weak in any way, which pursuing a pale romance would all but be admitting)

The thing that makes playing Eridan so hard, I think, is that he's abjectly fucking miserable, BY CHOICE, and for most RPers, playing a character who's abjectly fucking miserable kind of goes against the appeal of RPing in the first place (that is, having fun). All of the things he says he's really into are things that he either has no interest in, or that actively make his life less enjoyable. All the things he spends all his time thinking about are things that make him feel anxious and hopeless. All the things he actually likes and would have fun with are the things he actively, deliberately, and loudly decries and suppresses.

So that's point 1: Eridan does NOT have fun.

ERIDAN IS AGGRO AS *FUCK*

The next most thing I see that trips people up is that they make Eridan too friendly, usually as an extension of accidentally giving him too much chill. There are two main factors here at play: the first is that he's desperately trying to be a violent, casteist, oppressive, dangerous sea dweller, and outright pushes that image, and the second is that he's really fucking anxious ALL THE TIME, and most peoples' sociability goes down when they feel the cold breath of the reaper on the backs of their necks 24/7.

When looking at the 4 responses to danger - fight, flight, freeze, and fawn - Eridan will overwhelmingly choose "fight," with "fawn" as his secondary option. This makes absolute sense in context: all his trauma comes from its inescapable nature - if he tries to run from his duties, everybody dies; if he freezes up and fails to complete them, everybody dies. Therefore, his only two options are to Fight, and to channel that violent response into completing his duties, and to Fawn, to capitulate to the things that are hurting him - much moreso the former than the latter. Unfortunately, that bleeds over into everything else. Great!

We can see this illustrated really well in his conversations with Kanaya: Eridan does not ask for favors or help, he makes demands:

CA: kan make her talk to me do somethin ... CA: so help me out tell her to talk to me i think she blocked me you got to

ERIDAN: you should of told me about this ERIDAN: if theres goin to be any sort a hope for our race as the prince of hope i demand to be invvolvved ERIDAN: so dont go anywwhere wwithout me got it

The only time he ever really backs off is in confessions, where he's willing to be like "hey, I think we really got something here, don't you think so?", or when talking to Karkat (Karkat is really the only person that Eridan doesn't feel the need to put on airs around, and we can only speculate as to why. It's because they're destined moirails for each other.)

He will also do this for statements that he isn't 100% sure about. If he's going to say something, he is going to ASSERT IT as if it is IMMUTABLE FACT, even if he's immediately disproven. In which case he will admit fault, but then his NEXT wild assumption is the IMMUTABLE FACT.

CA: wwell fine you dont havve to behavve vvillainous if youre bent up on actin against the grain a your nobility or somesuch CA: i can play that role its not like i evver didnt get my gills dirty before TT: Nobility? What are you talking about? CA: wwell arent you TT: No. What gave you that idea? CA: the wway you CA: ok CA: i had a misconclusion about that so my fault CA: obvviously you got rich blood so maybe when you crash landed you wwerent recognized for it by wwhatevver vvehicle upholds the class structure in human society

I feel like he's the type who, if he's genuinely unsure about something, he just won't say it at all. Basically, Eridan is always operating at either 0% or 100%, with almost no in-between. NO CHILL. Given that he only strikes up conversations when he's trying to achieve something from it - whether that's actively getting someone to do something for him, or just trying to assert that magic is fake - he treats every conversation like it' i's a battle, where the prize is whatever it is he's attempting to do, and his conversation partner is an enemy that he has to beat into submission. (Karkat is the only exception. He actually just likes talking to Karkat, and will do more traditional "hey man you wanna talk about your feelings" kind of dialogue with him.)

If your Eridan has chill, you are doing it wrong!

ERIDAN STRUGGLES WITH EMPATHY

This really needs to be qualified: he does HAVE empathy. He DOES care about his friends. But his brain is really cooked, and he has an extremely difficult time actually working up the emotional energy to express or experience it.

He's kind of downright sociopathic, lol:

ERISOLSPRITE: iim of the miind2et that wwhen you havve a rock 2oliid piiece of a22 tiied twwo the dock, you dont bloody wwell tug the knot loo2e and 2hovve the fucker off wwiith the heel a your boot. ERISOLSPRITE: but then another part of me ju2t wwonder2 wwhat the FUCK ii ju2t 2aiid there? liike that wwa2 ju2t 2uch a wweiird 2ociiopathiic thought ii had, ii hone2tly had no iidea howw bad ii could po22iibly feel about my2elf untiil ii BECAME my2elf, iif THAT make2 2en2e.

Like, okay, how do I explain this. His body count is 2000+. He has an EXTREMELY difficult time caring about life or death. He's had to watch kids cry over their dead parents. He has had to kill kids trying to protect their parents, whom he has then had to kill. And he has done this over, and over, and over again, as long as he can remember, to the point where he calls it "all i evver done practically."

Just for the sake of preserving what's left of his sanity, he's had to learn how to not care about that. If he sees someone crying in front of him, it's unlikely to even emotionally register to him as anything beyond "factually, this person is sad." Shit happens, people die. Violence, tragedy, murder, injury, and death are literally daily occurrences to him. For you, the day I killed your lusus was the most important day of your now tragically short life. For me, it was Tuesday.

Vriska is in the same boat, BTW. I think a combination of just being a less sensitive person to start with, the existence of a support network (Equius and Kanaya and Terezi as friends + she was friends with Team Charge before the... incident), and the lack of all the Duty(tm) and Responsibility(tm), helped her cope a bit better, and be better about opening up to people and relying on them for emotional support.

What this means, in terms of playing/writing him, is that his priorities are extremely skewed, and he is genuinely not going to understand things like "maybe I shouldn't tell this land dweller I'm trying to kill all land dwellers," or "maybe this person is sad and I should comfort them," or "maybe my constant talk about murder and death is offputting to other people." Here he is, literally not understanding why insulting and belittling Kanaya has led to her not wanting to help him, as well as not understanding why Vriska might've blocked him:

CA: wwhatEVVER you are so the vvillage twwo wwheel devvice wwhen it comes to auspisticing CA: you cant let a grudge go by you wwont stick your busy stem betwwixt so get wwith the program fussyfangs GA: If Your Slander Werent So Predictable Id Block You Too For Saying That GA: Has It Occurred To You She May Have Blocked You Because You Are Vvery Ovverbearing GA: I Just Said That Aloud Now In Your Silly Accent And Had A Private Moment Of Enjoyment CA: wwho givves a shit wwhy she blocked me or about my fuckin manners come on youvve got a wway wwith her

His brain is constantly running at a fevered 100% full-tilt run; he doesn't have the space, leisure, or energy to spend considering things from the perspective of other people. It leads to weird paradoxes, where he IS considerate of other peoples' feelings, but doesn't actually consider their feelings. After spending almost the ENTIRE conversation with Kanaya belittling her and demanding she be his and Vriska's auspice, he abruptly switches gears:

CA: fine i get it ill step off CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that GA: No Thats Not It CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly CA: but its cool its totally fine dont wworry ill leavve you alone and givve you a shot

Because he LIKES Kanaya, he REALLY CARES ABOUT Kanaya, he WANTS GOOD THINGS for Kanaya... and yet is entirely, wholly, not taking her feelings into account at all.

BUT! This also applies in reverse! You can make all the death threats and casteist insults and demands towards Eridan as you want, and he won't give a shit aside from his usual grandstanding protests. The only time we ever truly see him offended is when he's genuinely trying to do Jade a favor by giving her the code to his gun, and she calls it a piece of shit and tosses it out with the trash - and even then, he doesn't take THAT much offense. Judge for yourself:

GG: so ill just dump it outside the house with the trash GG: and if it is fated to find my penpal one day then so be it! CA: god damn it CA: its like you people go out of your wway to think a howw to disrespect me GG: maybe you should have been nicer to me! GG: in any case i dont appreciate the spirit in which the gift was given so this is what i will do! CA: fine fuck it wwhat do i care CA: this has been a completely flippin useless exchange as havve they all been wwith your species

After all, he's accustomed to much, much, much worse. His emotional response here is indignation, not even really HURT. Karkat also makes a bunch of genuine death threats towards Eridan, which get entirely written off as "wwitty repartee." He's just really bad at processing hostility! Hostility is very normal to him!

So basically, before letting Eridan engage in any act of empathy or compassion, you have to ask whether or not he's going to recognize that the situation would call for that in the first place, which he is REALLY BAD at identifying. He only asks Karkat if Karkat wants to talk about his feelings after Karkat explicitly says that he's freaking out in every possible way, and without that explicit indication, I don't think Eridan would've even noticed.

If your Eridan has social skills, you are Doing It Wrong!

This also means that, even if Eridan has realized that he needs to act compassionate, he's still going to be really fucking trash at actually providing emotional support. He can't even emotionally support himself, you think he can figure it out for other people?

The most he can do is call it like he sees it - "this is a stupid thing to get worked up over," for example. Or he can jump straight to solutions, like "so what, are you gonna kill that guy?" Being as charitable as humanly possible, he might be able to fire off a "that's rough, buddy" at ABSOLUTE maximum.

ERIDAN KIND OF JUST SEES SLURS AS FACTUAL DESCRIPTORS (AND OTHER GENERAL NOTES FOR HIS SYNTAX AND VOCAB)

And, let's face it, on Alternia, they kind of are. Kanaya doesn't even bother to call him out for calling Karkat an assblood, Terezi and Feferi and Sollux don't bother taking offense to calling Sollux a mustard blood, and Karkat calls himself a gutter blood at one point. Like, even if you're playing/writing an Eridan who's rejected Alternian society, he'll still probably be out here calling people slurs? Things that would be considered hostile from other characters are very much just neutral coming from Eridan. There is no emotional difference to him, calling someone a rustblood or a burgundy, but he's expected to say rustblood because of his sea dweller status, so that's what he goes with.

Also, make some grounded but wild assertions about people and things. This boy loves to Assume. Writing Eridan is a lot of going "ERIDAN DON'T SAY THAT!!!" it's great. Really painful. Highly unrecommended.

He's obviously quite book smart and uses a lot of big vocabulary words. You guys need to have Eridan go on these insane purple-prose rants more often. They're so fun to write and so cringe to post.

CA: yeah go ahead and kiss us off but therell be blood on your hands CA: you could either play along as our auspistice and do a little mediating like you wwere fuckin hatched to CA: or wwatch she and me devvolvve into fuckin full fledged kismesisses the kind like you dont get once in ten thousand swweeps CA: you knoww thats wwhat it wwould be there wwould be rainboww rivvers runnin through star systems and all nebulizin like liquid firewworks CA: it wwill be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once

CA: but the thing is i need a rivval wwho can pose me a challenge CA: and frankly shes not evven fit for holdin my cape anymore CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince GG: wow what are you talking about

For no reason at all. I'm going to post a little Karkat for comparison.

PCG: THE FUNNY THING IS IN THE FUTURE EVERYONE WILL RECOGNIZE ME AS THE UNDISPUTED LEADER, EVEN YOU. PCG: YOU WILL BE STANDING ON THE TIPPYTOES OF YOUR IDIOTIC METAL SHOES, TAKING DELICATE PURCHASE OF MY NUBBY HORNS AND HOISTING YOURSELF OVER MY HEAD TO PUT YOUR SWEATIEST TOUGH GUY SMOOCH UPON MY TWITCHING SPINE LUMP. PCG: IT WILL BE TENDER AND DEFERENTIAL, LIKE A PAUPER KISSING A NOBLE'S RING. PCG: JUST SCROLL DOWN, READ THE LOGS.

Also, notes about his typing quirk:

First, the ww and vv stuff is actively a fake accent he puts on for the #Aesthetic, and his natural way of speaking doesn't include those at all, so it's entirely likely that if you're writing him after he's rejected Alternian society, or if he's trying to be really really emotionally sincere, he wouldn't be bothering with that part of the quirk specifically.

He doesn't ALWAYS drop the G at the end of words ending in -ing. It's frequent and common, but don't feel bad about letting a word end in a g, especially if it would sound or look better (for example, "being a kid and growwing up" doesn't bother to drop the g's at all).

Similarly, he doesn't ALWAYS change "of" to "a," especially preceding a vowel sound. You gotta be careful with when you change this up, because he pretty much only does it when it would make sense spoken aloud.

In phrases like "must have" or "could have," he will often (but not always) change "have" to "of" (so "must of" or "could of").

Dropping the D from the word "and" happens only one time in the entire comic, so it's probably a typo, and if it isn't, it's REALLY REALLY infrequent.

He will sometimes use shorthanded words, like "em" instead of "them" or "ya" instead of "you." I'd say it's occassional, a bit rarer than the G-dropping. He does tend to use "got to" instead of "gotta," however. Again, try saying his lines out loud, to figure out when best to use what.

Given his loquaciousness and clear command of the language, it's likely that this is for Style, but he also doesn't always bother with proper grammar. Places where "[person] and I" would be used are often switched out for "[person] and me," and he might forgo a contraction like "I've" or "we've" and just post the pronoun (for example, "you got to" instead of "you've got to."

He references ocean shit, and ocean anatomy, like his own fins and gills, pretty often! He just doesn't do the puns. Try using "flippin" instead of "fuckin" every now and then, or "glubbin" instead of "talkin," or nautical analogies.

Also throw in some British "bloody"s every so often.

Cusses like a sailor, though, has one of the highest "fuck" counts relative to wordcount out of all the characters (cough like Karkat cough).

HE DOES NOT USE PUNCTUATION. EVER. (Ok, he does use a period once while talking to Terezi in Alterniabound, but I think that that's a mistake because it's literally the only time). This is actually in STARK contrast to other characters that don't generally use punctuation, like Aradia or Nepeta, who will still use ellipses, exclamation points, and question marks. Eridan actively, consciously forgoes using ANY punctuation, EVER, even for questions (which you shouldn't be asking too many of, because Eridan makes DEMANDS).

ERIDAN DOES NOT ANGST

This is another thing that I see a lot. Yes, Eridan thinks that he's worse than everybody. Yes, he deliberately keeps fun things at bay and focuses on things that make him miserable. Yes, he's sad, anxious, emotionally neglected, etc. etc. But I often see this self-loathing played for dramatics - Eridan being withdrawn, quiet, moody, and sad. Or being consumed with guilt and regret, and wishing he didn't have to be a murderer or wasn't forced into the position he was. And that's just not the vibe.

Because Eridan has a lot of pride. He refuses to appear weak, and he has genuinely lost the emotional capacity to feel too guilty about all the killing. Moreover, here's something I often see get overlooked:

He would think of the murders he committed, and the fact that he's so good at murdering, as good things.

It's not only useful, but oftentimes NECESSARY, for somebody on the team to be willing to make those kinds of sacrifices, to be willing to pull the trigger. Very literally, murder kept him and his friends alive long enough to play the game.

There's no universe in which Eridan would denounce killing and violence, because to do so would be to say that he shouldn't have kept his friends alive. Even in a hypothetical golden ending, where everybody survives to the end, Eridan would be the guy on the team who posits murder as a potential solution to problems, reminds people that society is built on sacrifices and suffering, and offers to do the dirty work himself if nobody else has the stomach for it. As much as being the orphaner was DISASTROUS for his mental and emotional well-being, he wouldn't regret the things he did.

And this is reflected in the comic - the rare times he does break down and show that he kind of hates himself, the focus is never on guilt or regret, it's on his perceived shortcomings - calling himself an idiot or pathetic. Because that's what his real insecurity is - he doesn't hate himself because he sees himself as this awful piece of shit, the way Sollux does, he hates himself because he thinks of himself as not good enough, because if he's Not Good Enough, then Something Bad Will Happen.

Remember, his danger response is FIGHT. It's a different paradigm than what most of us are used to, which is why I see his inner turmoil so often represented by him being moody and broody, which he's never really done in the comic. Eridan doesn't get sad, even though he is sad; he gets mad, aggressive, combative. He doesn't wallow; he just keeps swimming.

CA: i got to keep tryin thats howw all the great military masterminds became great through upright persevverance

Again, his response to being insulted is indignation, not hurt. He doesn't sit in his room feeling sorry for himself, he obsesses over genocide and murdering all the land dwellers. His response to seeing the love of his life turn on him with killing intent is to flip out and start killing right back. After being broken up with, his response is to go and pester his friends (and yell at Gamzee a bit) until he can get some emotional support. He doesn't angst, he tries to solve the problem, and, if he can't solve the problem, he starts shooting.

He's awfully violent! If your Eridan is not awfully violent, you're probably doing it wrong!

BUT, ERIDAN LOVES HIS FRIENDS

At his core, however, as tangled up in all of the above as he may be, Eridan loves:

His friends

Wizards

Magic

Probably hipster shit

Happy endings

He is still, after all, a HOPE player. He struggles as hard as he does because he can't give up on the idea that things will get better, eventually. Even if he's struggling in the wrong direction, toward the wrong ideals, and even if emotionally, he's feeling more and more hopeless and closed in, he can't stop himself from trying, and trying, and trying again.

He loves magic. As much as he tries to push it away and calls it stupid and fake and lame at every turn, he still brought his shitty wands onto the meteor. Why does he love magic? It's an extension of his inability to give up. No matter how hopeless the situation, no matter how awful he feels, no matter how unrealistic salvation might seem, if only magic is real, then there's a solution. He wants to be a wizard so badly because wizards can do magic, and magic can overturn reality, and reality is this awful, inescapable nightmare. He is constantly being caught between nihilism and pessimism and hope and belief. In the comic, the nihilism won, but that's the great conflict at the core of his being.

So ummmmm yeah, I hope any of that helps with writing the fish boy at all. Basically, if you aren't constantly cringing while writing the bullshit that comes out of his mouth, you're probably doing it wrong...

#homestuck #eridan ampora

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danjaley · 1 month

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Links to Simsxolove's CAS CC

(EA Hair Age Conversions, BGC Hair, Accessory hats, some Clothing. Not covered are Sims and Wall-Art.)

This creator is no longer active for Sims 3 and their cc-posts have been deleted. This is a directory to their downloads. There are no previews in this post (it's long enough as it is). There are previews included in the downloads though, and it's mostly EA meshes.

This directory will most likely get updated in the future.

The links called "Dropbox" and "Mega" lead to the original creator's uploads.

Some files are backuped in this SFS folder (by @parystrange), these are named "SFS Pary". Links to my own backup folder are named "SFS Danjaley". This one only has files I couldn't find elsewhere. If any of the links get broken in the future, let me know, so I can provide a backup.

Polygon warning: A user alerted me to high polygon counts on the following hairs: AM IP Wet Mess BGC; CF MSS RoSweet; CF Store Fun Flower. These may have happened by merging morphstates. In general, the meshes are EAxis and therefore within the game's recommended dimensions. For alternatives, see here.

Abbreviations: A: Adult, C: Child, P: Toddler, F: Female, M: Male, U: Unisex. WA: World Adventures, UNI: University Life, SHT: Showtime, MSS: Mastersuite Stuff; BGC: Basegame Compatible; * See polygon warning

Original Dropbox Parent Folders

Hair, Clothes, Accessories (The folders Lots, Houses, Poses and Posters have been deleted)

Individual Sets

Basegame Compatible Hair and unaltered Store Content

(As far as could be found:)

Generations: Mega

University Life: Dropbox

Island Paradise*: Dropbox

Island Paradise Part 2: Dropbox

Late Night Female Hair: Mega

Late Night Male Hair: Mega

Seasons Female Hair: Mega

Master Suite Stuff: Dropbox

Surf's Up Sun and Fun (Store Set): Dropbox

High End Loft Female Hair: Mega

Katy Perry Female Hair: Mega

Decades Female Hair: Mega

EA Hats converted Hair-to-Accessory

"Smoke 'N Mirrors": AU: Side-Cap, Knitted Basegame Beanie / AU+CU: Cat, Back-Cap): Dropbox

Knitted Hipster Beanie: Dropbox

Pompom [Toddler] Hat for AU: Dropbox

"Updated Hats + 2 Bonuses": Aviator (All Ages), Panda (All Ages); AF: Hippie Flower Headband, Bouffant Bun Headband, Mastersuite Bow: Dropbox

"Dehairified Hats for Kids": [Link broken and I couldn't identify the content]

"Hanky Panky" Accessory Hats. AU: Cowboy Hat, Military Cap, French Beret: Dropbox

"Misc": [Set for which I couldn't find the post] AU: Super Skunk Hat, Baker Cap, Baseball Cap, Diesel Cap, Top Hat AF: Mysterium Hat AF+CF: Side Bow; AU+CU: University Beanie: SFS Danjaley

Hair Edit Adult

Katy Perry Cookie Hair Edit (AF): Dropbox (See also here)

EA Hair Conversions Adult to Child and Toddler

Toddler+Child Conversions (Store Hairs. CF: Side Ponytail Chic, Pop Star Hairstyle, CM: The Roaring 20s, Knitted Beanie; PF: Side Ponytail Chic, Killer Curls; PM: The Roaring 20s): Dropbox

"4 Conversions" Store Hairs. CF: Pompom Hat (Panda), The Blake, Pert Pixie, The Alana: Dropbox

"That Boy"/ More Conversions. Hair AM to CM. Store: Duck's Tail, Little Louie, The Duude, AMB: Romantic, SHT: Blown Back Gel; UNI Beanie Loose: Dropbox

"4 More Hair Conversions" Hair AF to CF. SHT: Performer, UNI: Braid Band, Side Pony; MSS: RoBow. Dropbox

"Easy Peasy" Store Hair AF to CF: Bewitching Bun, Killer curls, Wilderness Braid: Dropbox

"Cheeky Monkey" Store Hair Conversions Pt. 2: Store Hair AF to CF: Over Shoulder Braid, Side Swept, Sitcom Style, Valley Girl. Dropbox

"Little Miss" / Store Conversions Pt. 1: Store Hair AF to CF: Braided Band, Hello Angel, Derby Delight, Modern Braids, Bountiful Beret, Dolly Darling, Bound Up Bows: Dropbox | Derby Delight Hat fixed (enabled all 4 channels): SFS Danjaley

"Random EP Hair Conversions Pt. 2". AM to CM. SN: Long Wavy, UNI: Fly Bangs. Dropbox

"Random EP Hair Conversions". AF to CF. SN: Bob Bangs, Princess Hair, Elegance, UNI: Braided Bun, Cheer Short; SHT: Ponytail Emo. Dropbox

"Pastel Crayons": AF to CF. Store: Brassy Lassy Bob, Can't Stop Cool Hat, Fortune Teller, High Bun; IP: Waterfall; MSS: RoSweet*; Basegame: Low Ponytails. SFS Pary |

"Snow Angels": AM to CM and PM IP: Wetmess; Store: Finsout, Loose Curl, Practical Curls (PM). SFS Pary

"Petite Princesse": Store, AF to CF: Dramatic Ponytail, Almost There Hair; CF to PF: Hello Angel, Braids and Roses: SFS Pary

"Snowfall": AF to CF Store: Funflower*, Wavy Bob. SFS Pary

"Toddler Conversions EA Textures": AF and CU to PF/PU Store: Pompom Hat Bear, Wavy Bangs, Wild Bed Head. SFS Pary

Clothing

"Polyamorous": Four edited Diesel Stuff Jeans: Dropbox

Hellokittysailormoon Leggings: SFS Pary

Adventuretime Leggings: SFS Pary

#content by other creators #simsxolove

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hlficlibrary · 11 months

Text

HL Fic Library 🧡 Kid Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🧡 the wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci {M, 150k}

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

🧡 Flour and Chocolate by teaandtumblr {M, 145k}

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

OR Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

🧡 Face Your Fears by @sadaveniren {E, 92k}

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

🧡 Just Pretend by @kingsofeverything {E, 90k}

Louis Tomlinson is a divorced dad who doesn't date. What free time he has, he likes to spend with his teenage daughter, and if he wants to take someone home, he does it when she's spending the weekend with her mom.

Then he meets Harry Styles, another divorced dad with a teenage daughter, who convinces him it’s a good idea to pretend they're dating to keep their kids happy.

🧡 Standing on the Edge of Forever by EllaO {M, 55k}

“So let me get this straight. You took Mr. Squiggles from the classroom habitat, took him with you on your fieldtrip to the zoo, and released him in the aviary?”

Harry Styles is a single father, just trying to keep his life organized after losing his husband four years earlier. Between his daughter, Liam's hellion twins, and Sophia throwing him into any romantic tangle she can think of, life gets a little crazy. Of course, everything changes the moment Lo and the twins get interested in their school musical, The Wizard of Oz. Because the new director, Louis Tomlinson, is just about the most attractive man that Harry has ever seen.

Featuring adorable Dad Harry, hotshot actor Louis, three sassy kids, a badass Sophia Smith, and a Liam who just wants all their kids to be well behaved.

🧡 A Life That We Share (I Owe It All to You) by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings {M, 50k}

When Harry's son came home from school crying he didn't think things could get any worse. Lucky for them, things were just about to change for the best.

or Harry's son get bullied until Louis' son shows up :)

🧡 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie {E, 46k}

Everyone is chasing, searching, dreaming of their soulmate.

Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. The unexpected passing of Louis' mum, and the fact that now he is the guardian of his twin two-year-old little siblings, just means that Harry is going to have to wait a bit longer.

A soulmate AU full of cute kids, house building, therapy, and a lot of dreaming.

🧡 hymns for restless stars by @turnyourankle {E, 37k}

Every Holiday season Louis has his pupils write down their Christmas wishes for class. He's read almost every wish under the sun, but one girl's wish takes him by surprise. It's for her uncle not to be alone anymore. It's not a wild wish by any means, but Louis had no idea that former teen idol Harry Styles was lonely in the first place.

🧡 Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 {E, 30k}

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

🧡 Love is a Compass by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 {M, 27k}

Louis smiled to himself, knowing what Cameron was hinting at. “Did you want to stay with me in my warm bed?”

Cameron nodded as he slipped his thumb back into mouth, fighting to keep his eyes open now. “Please, Lou.”

“Sure. get some sleep, okay?” Louis hugged him tighter and closed his own eyes, his arms heavy with the weight of the little boy they were wrapped around. Just as Louis was dozing off, his eyes too heavy to keep open anymore, he heard whispered words that shattered his heart into a million more pieces.

“Please don’t go to heaven too, Lou.”

Harry waltzes into Louis’ life when everything seems to be crumbling around him. A dad overnight, grief stricken and learning to be a parent as he goes, Harry helps to bring light, laughter and, of course, baked goods back into their lives.

🧡 Enchanted by @brightgolden {E, 25k}

“My close friends usually call me H,” Harry mumbles suddenly after Louis wraps up his story.

That’s unexpected. “Are you telling me I’m your close friend now?” Louis quips, squinting his eyes at Harry.

OR Where Louis finally meets his neighbour. After a few conversations, he begins to realise he is too weak to resist the charms of the new mother and his six month old daughter.

🧡 Barefoot in Blue Jeans by @indiaalphawhiskey {E, 24k}

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why.

475. The hope that this fear is unfounded.

🧡 Home for Christmas by @haloeverlasting {G, 22k}

The Shameless Hallmark Movie AU you probably didn't ask for.

Or, the one where Harry didn't think he wanted a family, but with a little Christmas magic (and maybe one Louis Tomlinson) he realizes that he is very, very wrong.

🧡 Took Me by Surprise by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird {M, 20k}

Louis Tomlinson and his best friend Bridget had a daughter when they were very young and he was on the brink of becoming the next MLS star. Until he blew out his knee.

A decade later, he's the head anchor of the American version of Match of the Day and is raising the coolest nine-year-old on the planet, who happens to be obsessed with Harry Styles - popstar, musician, and all-around household name.

🧡 The Baby Whisperer by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 18k}

Harry’s newborn baby is having trouble sleeping and nothing he does seems to work. Tired and alone and at his wits end, Harry is at a loss until a new neighbour arrives to turn his world upside down.

OR the one where being neighbourly takes on a whole new meaning.

🧡 Fugue by iwillpaintasongforlou / @canonlarry {E, 16k}

Harry falls asleep a 17 year-old who lives in Cheshire and is probably rockstar Louis Tomlinson's biggest fan. He wakes up 24 with a wedding ring on his finger, two kids, and Louis Tomlinson attempting to wake him up with a blow job. The doctor calls it organic retrograde amnesia, says he might never get back the last seven years of his life. The only thing that feels the same is how he feels when Louis touches him, and maybe that's enough to make him fall in love all over again.

🧡 You're A Universe by Jiksa / @jiksax {E, 15k}

Harry doesn’t ever mean to hurt him; Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s the only thing he ever does anymore.

Or, Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

🧡 reckless behaviour by @nouies {E, 13k}

Harry is a retired football player looking for a new opportunity. Louis is the image consultant hired to help him find it.

🧡 It'll Be by @styleandsin {E, 13k}

Louis has always wanted children and he decides he's done waiting for love to come first. However, after adopting a baby girl just days after she's born, he quickly realizes how hard parenting is. Louis hires Harry to be his Nanny, and it all works out great. Until Louis falls in love with him.

🧡 How It Begins (series) by @phdmama {E, 8k}

New town, new job, new school for his daughter. It's a chance to start again for Louis Tomlinson, a clean slate.

Or is it?

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lefteagleblizzard · 4 months

Text

𝕬 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗

Clapton Davis x gender neutral reader

Summary: You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. What you couldn’t have predicted was that a dare from a simple game would give you a unique chance with the person you’ve had a crush on for too long.

Warnings: pure fluff. No pronouns used towards reader. Reader is a shy nerd. OC male character. Truth or dare. Confession. Kissing.

Words count: almost 3000

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person, comfortable within the confines of your books and thoughts. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the pulse of the music vibrating through the walls. Jake's reassuring smile beside you was the anchor you desperately needed.

He claps you on the back, urging you forward. “This is your night,” he grins, moving with you toward the center of the room.

You glance around, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The room pulses with life—strangers laughing, dancing, and clinking glasses.

The familiar figure of Clapton Davis caught your eye almost immediately. Clapton, the charismatic and outgoing hipster who seemed to thrive in these environments, was surrounded by a group of friends. He was the type who exudes charm effortlessly with his easy smile and confident demeanor. He was everything you were not, and you had harbored a crush on him for quite a while now.

You often found yourself questioning the small interactions you had with him, recalling the many times Clapton approached you at school, always with some question in mind.

Sometimes, it was about complex subjects like calculus or chemistry, but often, it was something so basic that it made you wonder. “Hey, can you remind me how to find the area of a rectangle again?” he had asked once, his eyes twinkling with an inexplicable charm. Another time, it was, “Do you know if we have any homework for English?” It was as if he sought you out specifically, bypassing others who might have been more obvious choices for such questions.

Things so simple that you sometimes wondered if he was doing it just to annoy you. But you always brushed those thoughts away, deeming them too fanciful.

Each interaction left you with a flurry of emotions, part of you thrilled at the attention, and another part skeptical, thinking it was too good to be true.

Jake nudged you gently, breaking your reverie. “Let’s go join them” he suggested, nodding towards the group that included Clapton and two girls you recognized from school, Ione and Riley. Despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach, you trusted Jake and followed him.

The group welcomed you warmly, and you tried your best to engage in the conversation. Your eyes occasionally met Clapton’s, and each time you noticed a peculiar intensity in his gaze. Was he actually staring at you? You dismissed the thought as wishful thinking and focused on the ongoing chatter.

After some time, someone suggested playing truth or dare. The idea was met with enthusiastic approval, and a empty bottle was swiftly produced. The game began, and the tension in the air grew palpable. You watched the bottle spin, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. It finally landed between you and Jake.

“Truth or dare?” He asked you simply.

In a rare moment of bravery, you chose dare. You wanted to show that you could be courageous and, more importantly, you trusted Jake. He pondered for a moment, then a devilish grin spread across his face.

“I dare you to sit on Clapton’s lap for the rest of the game,” he announced.

That’s it, tonight you’re gonna have to find a way to hide Jake’s dead body without nobody noticing.

Laughter erupted around you, and your heart sank. You shot Jake a death glare so intense that he almost retracted the dare. But before he could, Clapton spoke up. “I’m totally fine with that dare,” he said, his voice steady but there was a noticeable effort to keep his excitement under wraps.

His eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm that he tried to hide behind a casual tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a grin.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you stood up. The room seemed to blur as you walked towards Clapton, ignoring the jealous and envious glares from Ione and Riley.

As you reach him, Clapton surprises you by pulling you gently but firmly onto his lap. His muscular arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place. The closeness is electrifying, and your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and a thrill you can't quite name. You can feel his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Clapton shifted slightly, making sure you were comfortable. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. You nodded, unable to find your voice, overwhelmed by the proximity and the fluttering in your stomach.

The game continues, but your attention is solely on the sensation of being so close to Clapton. It feels like you and Clapton are in a world of your own. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart.

His head rests on your shoulder, and he begins to whisper in your ear, his voice a soft murmur that only you can hear. "How are you doing?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his words. The unexpected sweetness in his tone makes your heart flutter.

“Good,” you manage to reply, though your voice is shaky.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You settle in, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks. Clapton leans in closer again, his breath warm against your ear “You’re braver than I thought,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His words send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Do you come to parties like this often?" Clapton asks, his tone curious.

“Not really,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “I’m more of a quiet night kind of person.”

"Really? I'm glad you came tonight," he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "It's nice to see you outside of school."

You nod, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Yeah, it's... different."

Some people in the circle leave to get a drink, others join in to participate in the game and Clapton keeps up a steady stream of whispers. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You look really good tonight," he whispers, his voice low and intimate.

Your checks flush deeper feeling the intensity of his gaze on you and you manage a soft "thank you" in response. His compliments are so unexpected and genuine that they leave you both flustered and thrilled.

His lips grazing your ear while his hand rests on your hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles that make it hard to focus on anything else.

Every time someone else takes their turn, you’re acutely aware of his presence. His hand on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional squeeze of reassurance. He asks you questions, some innocent, others more daring, each one making your heart race faster.

“Have you always been this bold?” he asks at one point, his tone filled with genuine curiosity and admiration. You turn slightly to look at him, his face close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Maybe you just bring it out in me,” you reply surprising yourself with your honesty.

His presence is reassuring and his whispered conversations create a private bubble for the two of you amidst the chaos of the party.

He keeps the conversation light, asking you about your interests, your favorite subjects, and anything that comes to his mind.

"Thanks for all the help with school" he continues, his breath tickling your ear "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning.

"You must be really good at what you do," he says at one point. "I mean, you've helped me so much, and I know I'm not the easiest person to teach.”

You laugh softly: "You're not that bad. Sometimes I wonder if you really need the help, though.”

"Do you remember that time in class when I asked you for help with that really simple math problem?" he asked, his tone conspiratorial.

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from smiling too widely "I remember thinking you couldn't possibly be that bad at math”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "I wasn't. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you." His admission made your heart flutter, and you found yourself looking at him with a mixture of surprise and affection

"Really?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief

"Really," he confirmed, his eyes holding yours with a sincerity that left you breathless. "I guess I just needed a way to get your attention.

I guess I just like spending time with you and hearing you talk.”

His admission sends a flutter through your heart, and you glance at him, finding his gaze already fixed on you. There's a sincerity in his eyes that makes your breath catch.

"I like spending time with you too" you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The game around you fades into the background as you and Clapton continue to talk. He shares stories about his adventures in skateboarding, his mishaps in detention, and his dreams for the future.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart, his breath occasionally tickling your neck.

He adjusted his pink hat, then took it off and playfully placed it on your head. “Looks better on you,” he said with a grin. “You can keep it if you want”

Your face remained a permanent shade of red, but despite your initial embarrassment, a sense of exhilaration began to creep in. Clapton’s proximity, his touch, and his words all made you feel a rush of emotions you had never experienced before. Each time he spoke, it was as if the rest of the room faded away, leaving just the two of you in an intimate bubble.

"Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?" Clapton whispered, his voice dripping with playful insinuation.

You turned your head slightly catching his eyes with yours. "Maybe it's just you," you replied, attempting to match his teasing tone, though your voice was tinged with genuine nervousness.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. "I don't think so. I've got a feeling it's because of you." His hand gently squeezed your waist, pulling you a fraction closer. His touch was both comforting and thrilling, a juxtaposition that made your heart race.

"You know, I've always thought you were cute when you were deep in thought," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear once again. "But seeing you blush? That's something else entirely”

You felt your cheeks grow even hotter, if that was possible. "I... I didn't know you paid that much attention," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Clapton grinned, his eves twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I pay attention to all the important things." He shifted slightly, his thigh pressing against you in a way that made your breath hitch. "Like how you always have that adorable furrow in your brow when you're concentrating on something.”

You couldn't help but laugh softly the tension casing just a bit. "And what else have you noticed?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost grazing your neck. "I've noticed how you always bite your lip when you're nervous. Like right now." His voice was low, intimate, and it made your pulse quicken.

Your instinct was to look away but his gaze held you captive. "Maybe I should stop being so nervous then," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Clapton's eves darkened slightly, a look of genuine affection mingling with his playful demeanor. "I don't mind. It's one of the things I find most endearing about you.”

When the game finally ended and the party began to wind down, Clapton didn't let you go immediately. Instead, he held you a little longer, his eyes searching yours. As people started leaving, he gently pulled you aside, away from the others.

Jake catches your eye, giving you a thumbs up before you lose sight of him, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

Clapton expression was serious, yet there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

"I really enjoyed having you here tonight, I like you. A lot." he confessed, his voice sincere.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. The guy you had admired from afar, the one who seemed so out of reach, was standing here, confessing his feelings for you. Overwhelmed, you could only manage a shy smile.

His whispers are constant, each one more daring than the last.

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to kiss me?” he asks suddenly, his voice barely audible over the music still going. His question catches you off guard, and you can feel your face heating up.

“Maybe,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. The truth is, you’ve thought about it more times than you can count.

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your car. “I think about it too,” he confesses, his voice sending another shiver through you. “A lot.”

“What else have you thought about?” you ask, your voice teasing. You’re starting to feel bolder, encouraged by his openness.

“I’ve thought about what it’d be like to hold your hand” he says, his fingers brushing against yours. “To take you out somewhere nice, just the two of us.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache with a mix of hope and nervousness. “That sounds perfect,” you admit, your voice soft.

“I think we’d have a lot of fun together,” he says, his smile widening. “I’d love to see you outside of school.”

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement building. “I’d like that too.” you say your voice filled with anticipation.

To your surprise Clapton leaned in and kissed you. It was gentle at first, a tentative meeting of lips, it quickly deepened as both of you poured months of unspoken emotions into that kiss and all your fears and insecurities melted away in that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, and Clapton's smile mirrored the joy you felt inside.

"Can we try this? You and me?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing that this was what you wanted too. The night had started as a leap out of your comfort zone, but it had ended with a dream come true. And as you walked out of the party with Clapton by your side, you knew that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

Over the following days and weeks, the dynamic between you and Clapton shifted in the most delightful ways. At school, he would find new reasons to approach you, although now his questions were more genuine and thoughtful. "Can you help me with this physics problem?" he would ask, spending the rest of the time staring at your face lovably without understanding your explanations.

He would wait for you after classes, casually leaning against the lockers, his easy smile lighting up when he saw you.

The whispers and curious glances from others became background noise as you grew more comfortable with Clapton's presence in your life. You spent more time together, studying, talking, and discovering shared interests. You learned that despite his laid-back exterior, he had deep passions and aspirations, and he loved hearing about your dreams and ideas.

He also really loved to take you to his favorite skatepark and hear you cheer his name over and over.

Through every shared moment, every whispered conversation, and every tender kiss, Clapton showed you that stepping out of your comfort zone had been the best decision you ever made. The shy intelligent person you once were found that the risks you took led to the most rewarding outcomes.

Note: it’s been a while since I watched the movie so I’m sorry if I got something wrong with him ♡.

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