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#But I'm tired and it just popped up in my head
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Double-Mutated Mikey
Chapter 4: Habitat
Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club
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Splinter and Casey Jones Jr. wait at the garage as the turtle tank zoomes in, the tires screeching to a halt as the automatic brakes kick in. The vehicle lurches slightly, then settles.
Splinter's foot taps anxiously. CJ twists and twirls his weaponized hickey stick in his hands. They wait in silence for the boys to emerge.
After a moment, Raph's head pops out of the window.
"We'll be out in a minute!" he shouts. "Just... figuring out some stuff..."
"Well, hurry up!" Splinter shouts back. "I want to know how your mission went."
"Did you find Mikey?" CJ asks nervously.
Raph doesn't answer, apart from a slight grimace; his Raph chasm wrinkles with stress as he slinks back into the tank.
From the window, CJ sees a four figures in the vehicle. Four? Four!
"They have him!" He exclaims with excitement, tugging on Splinter's sleeve. "They got Mikey back!"
Splinter's face breaks out in a smile, looking up in desperation as he tries to get a glimpse.
"Where do you see him?"
"In the tank. I think he's talking with the others..."
CJ saw silhouettes moving around in the tank. One that he could clearly recognize as Raph had walked back into the cockpit and started talking with the others, using animated movements to accentuate his point. They must be having a serious discussion, or an argument. The two other figures, Leo and Donnie, start putting in their notes, obviously not happy with something he'd said or suggested. They all start arguing together. The fourth and smallest silhouette began moving away, crawling onto the console... wait, what?
Casey's eyes widen when he sees the face staring at him.
The yellow spots against dark green skin almost make him look like a reverse leopard. Crouching on the console, slouching hard and pressing his face up against the glass and slobbering slightly as he watches CJ with intensity.
He feels like he is being hunted for some reason. The glowing red eyes freeze him to his spot.
"Future boy, what are you looking at...?" Splinter asks, looking up. He can't see from the angle he's standing at. He starts backing up to try and get a better view.
From inside the tank, one of the brothers pulls Mikey off the keyboard and away from the glass. Splinter couldn't catch a glimpse. He sighs.
"What is taking them so long? I'm going in," he grumbles.
"W-wait," Casey stutters, not sure what to do in this situation. He doesn't even know what 'this situation' is! But... was that really Mikey?
Splinter saunters to the floor hatch of the turtle tank and climbs up the ladder. He opens the hatch and starts to climb inside when a dark green blur suddenly zooms past him, knocking him down and running past him.
"AGH! Mikey! Catch him, don't let him get away--!"
Casey screeches in fright and lifts his leg away just as the blur zooms past him, barely missing him. It runs into the lair, turning a corner and disappearing.
"Mikey, come back! Pops! Are you okay?" Raph asks, panicking at the sprawled figure of his father on the ground.
"Uggggh.... someone get the number of the truck that hit me," Splinter groans.
"He'll be fine," Donnie says flatly, peering down at his dear Papa.
"What was that?!" CJ yells, running up to the tank to help Splinter. "Was that Mikey?"
"It -- uh," Leo mutters, nervously climbing down. "It... was..."
"What happened to him?" CJ asks with terror in his eyes.
"We don't know," Raph sighs. "Donnie did a quick scan, but we have yet to see the results."
"Orange...?" Splinter groans, looking up. "Where did he go?"
"Into the lair," Casey points. "Should we go after him?"
"Probably," Donnie says, already running after him. "He might try to attack the projector or something."
"What?!" Splinter yells, immediately running back inside. "My tv!!"
.
.
.
Shelter. Must find shelter.
Mikey scrambles around the lair after accidentally squashing something underfoot. The smell tells him it's someone familiar. The softness and squishiness of the body tells him it must be... uhhh.... the father. His name is... eeehh... rat? No...
He'll figure it out later.
Right now, he wants safety. Security. Familiarity and comfort. Not this metal moving thing.
He runs away from the vehicle he was shoved into and dashes into the corridor, past another person. He doesn't see the face. He catches the smell as he passes it. It's not as familiar, but he recognizes it. He doesn't remember how. He can't recall if it's a good smell or a bad one.
The figure jumps at his speed. Mikey isn't sure if he wants to attack it or leave it. He moves so fast that he doesn't get to pick, and simply allows the adrenaline to run him. Literally.
Shelter. Find shelter.
Mikey's eyes work differently now. The area is darker than the cage he lived in. His vision doesn't adjust, but shifts. He can't see shapes and lighting and colours so much as temperatures. Heat vision activates. He skids under something big and soft. It is very dark under here.
Not safe. Not shelter. Find shelter.
But what IS the shelter he so desperately wants? What is he looking for??
He hears something. He pokes his head out from under the cloth-covered structure he hid under. It sounds loud, lots of voices and sounds and noises and... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmusic? Music!
That is a word! He remembers that word! He likes it, he likes music.
The other sounds are agitating him, though. He covers his ears for a moment. He can't tell what is making the noise. There's no one in the room but him. He looks up and behind. Something in a rectangle shape is glowing brightly with mechanical heat. The noise is coming from that. He growls at it, but it doesn't seem to want to hurt him. Does it??
Mikey slithers out from under the object he's been hiding beneath. He slowly stalks up to the device. He hisses at it. He whips his tail. It doesn't do anything. Just makes noise and light.
It is not dangerous. Just annoying.
Mikey runs out of the room.
He likes the extra space. It isn't cramped like the cage, or confined like that big metal vehicle.
Zoomies. Zooming around. Run. Free. Space. Freedom.
Mikey runs into another room. It is much brighter in here. His vision adjusts again, causing a minor headache between his eyes. It vanishes quickly. He glances around the room. There are countertops, cabinets, a table with benches.
Sanctuary? Safe?
It feels familiar enough...
He crawls around the room, sniffing.
It smells amazing. So many scents and aromas... how has he never smelled them all before now?? He had, once. But not like this! Not so strong and aromatic... It starts to become a bit overwhelming.
He jumps up onto a counter top and scratches at a cabinet door. After a few tries, he gets it open. It is filled with dishes and mugs. Mikey sniffs the mugs, bumping each one with his beak, trying to find a scent he can recognize. He finds one. Bitter, but the smell makes him think of the colour purple. Coffee...
Mikey hops down and starts looking around more. There is a big door at the end of the room. He hooks his claw around the door and pulls. There is food inside it but --
COLD!! Don't like it, we don't like it!
Mikey makes a small screechy noise as he slams the door shut. He shivers violently at the temperature. Whatever they did to change him, they made him very sensitive to the cold...
Mikey leaves the room... the 'kitchen'.
Another word! Yay!
Mikey smiles. This new place is much better. Helps his head. Helps his thoughts.
Mikey zooms.
Mikey pauses at an opening... it leads to a large empty tunnel.
Not empty...
Big metal thing? Big metal house??
Safe... Shelter...
Mikey goes towards the big metal houses. One has a series of keypads and locks on the door, pink and purple lights blinking from the inside. One has red designs and patterns painted over the doors, with hanging lanterns lighting up the windows. One has a hole with a curtain covering it from the inside.
Mikey presses his face against the tarp, pushing through it. He peeks into the room, looking around. There are weapons pinned to the walls and comics scattered across the floor, boxes piling up by the shelves with trophies and action figures, posters for music groups and sci-fi movies plastered and taped to the windows. It is dimly lit, causing his vision to switch in between heat-seeking and not. But it is inconsistent and shifting, causing a splitting headache as his eyes try desperately to decide which way to go before simply splitting the difference and causing everything to look like lava lamps.
Not shelter.
Mikey creeps to the next metal house... it has orange and yellow paint decorating it. Flames and chains and suns and smiles and silly faces. It's so bright.
The door is wide open.
Mikey slinks inside.
It isn't dark in here. There are fairy lights hanging all around, sparkling and illuminating the room softly. There are small lamps plugged in by the floor, and neon LED lights hanging from the walls. The room is full of colour, but not overpowering. Calming. There are shelves with toys and action figures. There is an entire wall covered with paper drawings. A desk with crayons, pens, pencils, paints, spray cans...
A hammock.
Mikey wiggles slightly, adjusting himself and calculating his jump. He leaps up into the hanging cloth, finding pillows and blankets filling it up. It is so soft...
He digs into it, grabbing it with his teeth and kneading it with his knuckles. Once he is satisfied with how it has been folded and jumbled, he buries his face into the blanket, churring and purring as he crawls into the space he has prepared.
It is dark, warm, quiet.
Safe. Shelter. Finally.
Mikey smiles.
"...Well he's gotta be somewhere -- did anybody check his room?"
A voice infiltrates the silence. A familiar smell. Blue walks in, disturbing the peace. Mikey doesn't mind. He's happy he's here. He can trust Blue. Blue smells trustworthy.
Blue quietly walks to the mound on the hammock and lifts the blanket up slightly.
Mikey beeps at him with a smile. His tail wags happily.
Blue smiles back at him.
"There you are," he says. "Welcome back to your little habitat, Mikey."
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fleevyu · 1 day
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Hi Marware nation i wrote some sillies
Story below
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The first rays of dawn filtered through the bedroom window, casting a warm glow on Mario’s sleeping form. A soft hum of white noise filled the room, emitting from the speakers of an old 1980s-colored TV cradled in his arms.
He mumbled something as he shifted, pulling the TV closer to his face with a content sigh. The white noise fell silent as the screen on the TV flickered on. Static filled the screen before it revealed two tired eyes, one bigger than the other, and colorful test bars stretching to a yawn as their antennas dropped downwards.
They would have taken in the beautiful rays of dawn, if it weren’t for the uncomfortable view of Mario all up in their face.
“Wh- Mario! Get your mouth off my screen! Do you know how long it took to clean it yesterday?!”
Mario just mumbled incoherently, his breath leaving fog on Puzzle’s screen, much to their dismay.
They tried to free themselves out of their casing so they could push Mario away and at least stretch, but Mario was holding on tightly to their boxed head, preventing them from doing much; they could only shake their head as a pathetic attempt to push Mario away.
But after a while of literally nothing happening, they gave up.
“I swear, sometimes dating you is like dating an overgrown toddler!” They grumbled, the screen flickering to a more annoyed expression.
After a little bit of more struggling, Mario finally blinked awake, yawning, “Uh, wazzat? Puzzy, is that you?”
“Puzzy-wh-nevermind. Good morning to you too, you ridiculous lump.”
Puzzles said dryly, finally being able to extend their body out of their box, finally stretching their body with a satisfying electric ‘pop!’ Before sighing and looking at Mario again.
“Let me guess, you couldn’t sleep last night and just decided to use me as a television without my permission until you passed out.”
Mario Frog blinked, looking confused for a second. Before grinning, “Mario couldn’t help it! You know he always has to watch teletubbies before he sleeps!”
Puzzles shook their screen in disbelief, “I can't believe you right now.”
Mario only looked into their screen, seemingly unapologetic. "Aw, cmon, Puzzy!” Mario chuckled, flicking their screen. “You were asleep anyway! Mario was bored without you,” he huffed.
Hearing that nickname again, Puzzles was so tempted to throw the lamp resting on the nightstand at that ridiculously adorable face. Puzzles took a calming inhale through their vents. “Fine, but just next time, ask for my permission. Or else I will move the TV out there into here, and I will sleep on the TV stand out there.”
Puzzles only received a thumbs up before Mario instantly fell back asleep, not before muttering, “Be advised, I'm going beddy byes.” and then snoring right after.
Puzzles screen flickered in annoyance before they exhaled out their vents.
“Honestly, what am I going to do with you?” They muttered before leaning their tall, lanky frame down and pressing the bottom of their screen to Mario’s forehead, leaving a gentle static kiss on his head, making Mario giggle in his sleep. Antennas shaping into a heart.
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jimraisedmeup · 1 day
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TICK // 17.1 - dancing in the dark
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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Rating: mature (angst, language, graphic sexual content)
Word Count: 2400
I get up in the evenin' And I ain't got nothin' to say I come home in the mornin' I go to bed feelin' the same way
May 16, 1984 - junior year
"Toilet paper?"
"Check."
"Eggs?"
"Check."
"Red lipstick?"
"Check," Robin answered, then lifted an eyebrow at her sister. "Wait, what do we need the lipstick for?"
Eddie butted in between the two Buckley girls from the back seat of your father's work truck. "Perhaps if I wear lipstick I'll be less recognizable?"
You snorted, both hands on the wheel. "I don't think a disguise is necessary. Honestly, if you get caught, what else do you have to lose at this point?"
The brown eyed boy sat back in his seat, shoulders slumping in a mild sense of defeat. You still hadn't really talked to him since showing up on his doorstep with Robin. You were quite clearly on a mission and having fun with your sister, but Eddie knew you well enough that you were still far from happy with his fireworks show.
At this point, he just felt lucky that you wanted to include him in whatever plan you cooked up.
And Eddie thought Robin was quirky. Like if you took all the seriousness and cynicism away from you, added a dash of band geek, BAM! Robin Buckley. Eddie found her perpetual lack of coordination and rambling sentences to be entertaining. 
On the same note, though, he was intimidated by her scrutinizing gaze on him - they hadn't really spent time together yet, just simple greetings in passing at school when he was with you. 
Eddie still had yet to properly meet your father, upon your request.
I think that's something that can wait a while, yeah?
Hawkins was empty this late at night and all three of you buzzed with anxiety. "Borrowing" your dad's work truck was a good idea, but also a risky one. The construction company's name on the side of it was a little more recognizable that Eddie was comfortable with.
But it was better than taking Eddie's van. He was always noticed wherever he went.
"How do you guys know where Higgins lives, anyways?" he questioned, poking through a toolbox that was in the back seat with him.
You peered at him through the rearview mirror, your shining eyes glowing under the street lights.
"Robin knows a girl, who knows a guy, who knew a girl that dated his son."
"Well that's a goddamn soap opera if I've ever heard one," Eddie mumbled, then leaned forward towards Robin. "Cheers, criminals?"
Eddie popped the top off a beer bottle, startling the two girls in the front seat. You slammed on the brakes. Snapping your head to glare at him, Eddie held a look of innocence in his eyes, a beer in one hand and a random tool he used to open it in the other.
"Did you seriously bring a whole six pack with you? How did I not notice that?"
"You were too busy stealing all of my toilet paper. Look, there's two for each of us," he held out the open beer for one of you to take, fiddling with the lid of another one.
Robin took it from his hand immediately. You stared at her in shock. 
"Hey now, don't look at me like that. He lit a car on fire yesterday. We just stole our dad's work truck… to go vandalize our principal's home," she took a swig of the beer, wincing at the taste. "Might as well continue breaking laws as long as we're having fun, right?"
Sighing, you nodded at your younger sister. "Touché. But save mine for later, would you? Drinking and driving isn't on my list of crimes this evening."
Eddie and Robin tapped their beers together with a sharp clink, then proceeded to race each other to the bottoms of their bottles. 
The truck pulled onto Higgins' street. You parked in a dark area underneath a large oak tree. You turned to your accomplices with a grin.
"Are you ready, bitches?"
I ain't nothin' but tired Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help
The trio looked upon your handiwork, sweet revenge coursing through your veins.
Toilet paper covered Higgins' trees, lawn, and lampposts. Eggs were artistically scattered over the brick front of the house - Eddie specifically recommended not to egg any windows so that you wouldn't draw attention from anyone inside with noise.
Robin stifled a giggle with her palm. "Guys… that was fun as hell."
"I concur," Eddie said, hands on his hips.
You couldn't help but smile at your two favorite people. "Ditto."
When you were almost back to the truck, you stopped suddenly. "Wait! I almost forgot." Then you bolted away. "Wait here!" you whispered at them frantically.
Eddie side-eyed Robin as they watched you run up to Higgins' mailbox.
"Uh, so Robin, you think she’s gonna hate me forever? For what happened yesterday?"
Clicking her tongue for a moment, Robin stared at her feet as she replied. "I don't think she's capable of hating you." 
The Munson boy next to her felt a pang in his heart at her response, and was unable to find his own.
Then she chuckled. "But good luck with the dirty looks she'll give you every time you light a match around her. She can be really scary sometimes."
"It's her eyes, right?" Eddie said with a laugh. "Aggressive."
Robin patted him on the back. "Just don't try to blow yourself up again anytime soon, and I'm sure you'll be just fine in her books. She loves you, you know?"
"Does she?"
"Isn't it kinda obvious?" Robin pointed at you, who was now jogging back to the pair. "She’s never been a rule breaker like this before. Not until she met your dumb ass."
Before Eddie had a chance to process Robin's words, you ran up to them.
"Guys, let's roll! I saw a light come on in Higgins' house," and then you ran past them, out of breath and cackling wildly.
As you drove past the principal's defaced home, Eddie snuck a glance at the once bright, white mailbox. 
In red lipstick, you had written "ASS of '84" in swirling, fantastic letters.
You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark
As you neared the center of town, you felt chills up your spine when Eddie's quiet voice sounded from behind you.
"Come stay with me tonight?"
You fidgeted in your seat. You would pick Eddie's soft bed over your own any other day. But now you were conflicted. 
"I have to take Robin home. And the truck. She can't drive it home alone," you explained, mumbling towards the back seat. 
You glanced at Robin, who was enjoying her second beer and looking out of the window at the passing businesses of downtown Hawkins.
But Eddie wasn't going to back down. "So? I'll come with you, then. Sneak me into your bedroom, I'll be your little secret."
"Do you want to die at the hands of Richard Buckley?"
"Darling, I'd die any day just to spend another night with you."
You had never allowed him to stay the night at your house before. You tried your best to avoid Eddie and your father crossing paths at all costs, usually only having Eddie in your room on days when your father was working late.
A bit of anger flashed in your mind, wondering why Kate was allowed to stay the night. You couldn't hold the anger for long, though. Over the last few months of awkward dinners, both you and Robin had begun to realize that Kate wasn't all that bad, even if she had a horrible taste in men.
And now, as you could feel your boyfriend's heated eyes on you from the back seat, a gut feeling told you that you weren't ready to say goodnight to him just yet.
"Fine, just this once."
"You know I can hear everything, right? You idiots are loud and the radio isn't even on," Robin gestured wildly with her hands. "I'd say 'get a room', but it sounds like you're about to do that. Gross."
Uncontrollable laughter bubbled up in your chest, adrenaline still pumping through your veins from the mischief you unleashed on the principal of Hawkins High School.
It must have been contagious, because Robin smirked at her sister.
"I'll help you sneak him in. Maybe one day you'll help me sneak in someone, too."
With a quick wink and the signature interlocking of your pinky fingers, you nodded knowingly at Robin as you pulled the truck into the driveway of your home.
Stay on the streets of this town And they'll be carvin' you up alright They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight
"Do you need me to wash your clothes or anything? For school tomorrow?"
You searched through your dresser drawers, finally finding a clean pair of oversized shorts that you had previously stolen from his room. You threw them at Eddie, who caught them with an uncomfortable look on his face.
"Sunshine… hate to break it to you, but I'm kinda done for the year. They suspended me for the last two weeks of school."
"Oh."
He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding the disappointment on your face. "I think I might just say 'fuck it', you know? Drop out, get a job with my uncle. Eulin is never going to pass me… or Ms. O'Donnell. Definitely not Higgins. What's the point in trying senior year again?"
Your eyes were sad. Though still sweet and deep as a pot of honey, your voice seemed smaller than usual.
"You should try again… for me. We could graduate together." You picked at your fingers, not meeting his eyes.
Eddie Munson didn't need any convincing. It was clear how much it meant to you. 
"Jesus, babe, no need to beg," he joked. "You already begged me enough just to stay here tonight."
The small smile that crept up on your lips made his entire night. Sure, he royally fucked up with the fireworks. But you were still here. You took him to get his childish revenge on Higgins. You wanted him to graduate with you. 
Maybe there was still hope for a fairytale ending, making it out of Hawkins with you by his side.
Never really ceasing to surprise him, you pulled off your jeans and sat on the edge of your neatly made bed, spreading your knees just a few inches.
"Enough talking, if that's okay?"
Eddie was already hard. But he purposely hesitated.
"Messing up a bed this pretty seems like quite the sin, you know."
Tilting your head back, you scoffed. "Says the boy with the stained mattress!"
"My uncle gave me that bed, I have no idea where those stains came from!"
"Sure." Then you bit your lip, looking behind him in the dim bedroom. "Lock the door already, will you?"
Again, he didn't need any convincing. He pushed the lock closed on your bedroom door, seeing it shine in the hazy light emanating from your closet. 
The brown eyed boy dropped to his knees in front of you, grasping your calves and pulling you to the edge of the bed.
He ran his hand over your belly, then hooked his fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear… he said a quick, sarcastic prayer for his devilish conscience, then pulled the underwear down. 
In the darkness, your hair hung around your sleepy face, making it difficult to read your expression. Eddie didn't mind it, though. He just wanted to feel you, love you, hear you… taste you.
Both of your hands ran across his neck, your nails slowly exploring his skin, then down to the collar of his shirt. He took the subtle hint and pulled it off, discarding it on the floor. The dark piece of fabric looked out of place in your immaculate pink bedroom.
Eddie could feel the warmth radiating off the skin of your stomach, your inner thighs. He grabbed your knee and then ran his hand upwards, stopping when he felt your hips.
He didn't even contemplate his actions for a single second - Eddie knew exactly what you wanted. Pressing one hand against your backside, he pulled your hips forcefully towards his mouth. Your flesh held remnants of what smelled like rose-scented soap and sweat.
His tongue traced the hot crevice between your thigh and the wetness already pooling between your legs. Immediately, your back arched, almost collapsing your body like a little fractured marionette.
He was the puppet master.
The tension in the air snapped. Like a buzzing telephone wire on a scorching summer day - Eddie felt a fire being lit in his groin, guiding him as if he was a man possessed.
Self-control being a thing in the past, Eddie grabbed hard onto your ass, and you leaned back as you held onto his head. He tasted you, fully, unabashedly, exploring you like you were an undiscovered wonder of the world. His tongue circled your most sensitive areas as you whimpered, knees trembling.
You squirmed further and further up the bed like a cat in heat. He yanked your hips back to the edge of the mattress. You grabbed one of your pillows and held it over your mouth.
His fingers traced an arc along the underside of your breasts, barely visible under the fabric that separated them. It took everything in him not to fully undress himself.
His cock was hard, straining against his jeans. But there wasn't anything that would stop him from making you come into his mouth.
Eddie didn't think he had ever tasted something so real, so human, in his entire life. The sweat, the salt, the unique taste of you. 
He controlled the speed at which you finished - dragging it out as long as he could. The more your body tensed up at his actions, the more satisfied he felt. Your legs curled around his head like a vice grip from heaven.
Afterwards, sitting back on the floor before you, his face was wet. His lips were swollen. 
He could see your figure splayed out on the bed. Shameless and spent.
I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look
You can't start a fire Sittin' 'round cryin' over a broken heart This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark
(song lyrics credit: "Dancing in the Dark" by Bruce Springsteen)
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blackscaara · 10 months
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aziraphale: did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
Crowley: this isn't a pick up line is it
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fisheito · 1 month
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collab #2 with @xenole i was given a chibi yakumo and i.. i...... turned it into thiS
#I AM SO SORRY I DREW YAKUMO AGAIN ADFSJEIADKS LOOK OK so xenole gives me the tiny crying yakumo.#says DO WHATEVER YOU WANT and THUS i get to thinking#my immediate thought was#i'm going to make oli breast boobily while comforting him#bc i was determined to draw xenole's fave this time. i swore it to myself. i WILL stop being so self indulgent#but the chibi on chibi comforting scene didn't sit right with me. it was too straightforward. not something i would draw normally#it was hhhh as u say.... not on brand.? it did not inspire me. idea benched....#so days pass and i'm still pondering ideas on what to do to the sad spaghetti.#configurations of clan members danced in my head. some defending yaku. some comforting. some bullying#the ideas usually involved at least oli or kuya bc once again. xenole bias#then while i'm in the shower i got frustrated with my lack of ideas and thought#i'll jujst eat.him. just. chew on him. i'm tired of him#AND THE IMAGE OF KUYA EATING YAKUMO FOR BREAKFAST POPPED INTO MY MIND#originally it was going to be kuya eating yakuflakes and oli giving him serious side eye but then the brain went#WHAT IF IT'S YAKUMO WATCHING KUYA EAT YAKUMO. THAT IS FUNNY. IT MUMST HAPPEEN#BUT I REFUSED at first. i was angry at myself. this is not a competition to see how you can STILL sHOVE YAKUMO into a drawing.#plus the composition would shrink xenole's chibi down! i would take over so much space by comparison! THE DISRESPECT! TO THE COLLAB PROCESS#but once i get fixated on smth...well. i ended up doing the idea and just praying xenole wouldnt eviscerate me for it#i'm sorry my liege. my grip on the reins was weak. the goofy clown horses went stampeding#so idk now it's the two of em having a peaceful breakfast in kuya's cabin but only kuya is at peace and yakumo's this close to a breakdown#i feel like there should be something in the space between them. a speech bubble or something . something mean is being said#kuya#yakumo#yakuya
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coffee-bat · 1 year
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it's complicated
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cloud-the-forgotten · 7 months
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Imagine if Galacta Knight wasn't sealed away because he was evil/too strong. Imagine it was because he couldn't control his strength. He becomes so strong that if he isn't consciously dialing it back he could seriously hurt someone just by trying to give them a high-five.
It gets so bad that after defeating/sealing Void, he begs the Ancients to seal him away because killing one of his species is incredibly hard and dangerous to the people around them, and he doesn't want to hurt anyone. His time spent sealed away puts him in a state of consciousness and unconsciousness where he trains himself to dial back his strength.
Moments when he's taken out of his seal to fight are moments when Galactic Nova is controlling him, because the Clockwork Star knows Galacta Knight would refuse to fight if he had the decision. Unfortunately, Galacta Knight is completely conscious when this happens, and he hates how he feels both distraught because of the situation, and excitement from the thrill of the fight.
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altrxisme · 1 year
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God if Jo did a time travel in ffxv?
Jo @ Drautos
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dikiyvter · 2 years
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       So-- UPDATED LORE ON THE BOTS CREATION,and warning b/c I’m going to be talking about information from the Fa.tui trailer and from Ch.ilde’s new voice lines about the fellow harbingers, but--
       I think that Sa.ndrone / Ma.rionette might have had some hand in helping to create the automatons, given her whole thing seems to be... well. Making and researching Automatons. I don’t have a particularly THOROUGH idea of how she helped- i.e if she helped make their blueprints, just added input, or actually had a hand in the building process for either them or their parts, but I’m working on developing a better idea of the specifics.
       Though they’re more or less entirely Do.ttore’s underlings, there’s a certain... debt to be paid to Sa.ndrone, and Rigatello is at her request. That said, I personally don’t think Sa.ndrone views them as anything close to human, but that’s subjective ( + dependent on whatever information we get on her next ) & i’ll ramble about it a bit more once I actually make an updated post on the bots & their relationships w/ the harbingers.
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nexus-nebulae · 2 years
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more and more basic movements are starting to cause my joints pain that can last more than 20 minutes. how do my doctors still think this is a non-issue
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saltytyrus · 2 months
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....
#failed to pee quick enough again for my drug test TWICE with the SAME LADY 😭#shes a bitch on top of that#constantly venting about her patients in the waiting room while im getting ready#i asked if i could try again later bec i read that this happens to people and u can wait like 3 hours to see if there's any luck later#but she was like 'i cant keep waiting on u'#which okay fineeee this is annoying for both of us but fuck you#and she said to try again Monday...BUT SHES THERE AGAIN MONDAY#i cant do it again with her 😭😂 even my mom said she was a bitch#bec while i was trying to go she popped her head out and was yelling at the waiting room people#a guy even walked out#the same guy she was just complaining about to me beforehand bec she said he didn't sign in twice#but I'm pretty sure he speaks another language or was confused#i brought that point up and all she did was say the machine has other language options#anywaysss to make it worse (or funnier) i asked my mom to call and see if i can switch to a blood drug test#so she called the school.. two people transferred us over before saying they'll connect us with the cna coordinator.......#THE CNA COORDINATOR WAS MY TEACHER!!! 😭😭😭😭 so my teacher has a voicemail on her phone from a mother about her student#WHO IS PEE SHY 😭😭#i just want a blood test 🥹 or hair follicle test idc but the pee is not happening#if i have to try peeing again it'll be attempt number 4 💀#update:#...my teacher was not happy that my mom left the voicemail for me 💀#my mom said she could tell she wanted to yell as soon as she answered the phone but my mom played it nice-nasty so it toned my teacher down#by the end#yet again she barely answered our question - at least not with a professional yes or no#but a 'i have introvert children too but she needs to learn how to advocate for herself' 🙄no shit but im tiredddd & you're a massive bitch#overall no blood test for me 😭 i have to go back for a third time to embarrass myself by the same tired lady#but seriously im so tired of my teacher always yelling or answering a question with a lecture thats 99% not about what i asked#my mom hit her with the 'i understand and agree that she needs to learn how to advocate for herself etc BUT i keep#telling her that theres no harm in asking questions' 💀 as my teacher was trying to bitch my mom out right off the bat#there's obviously much harm 🥴 i cant imagine the email id get back if i asked
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femininominon · 3 months
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there is the agony of living in America (contributing to its global acts of cruelty simply by living and working and feeding and clothing yourself) and the agony of living in America today when it has become so clear that even if every politician making these choices on my behalf were killed, it would make no difference and they would be swiftly replaced by their ideological twin
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cryptic-rainfall · 9 months
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so I may have accidentally come out to my students (it was almost funny, I was having students write their name and pronouns, etc. some students in the back were asking me for my pronouns to which I kept saying "any are fine" and they kept thinking I was misinterpreting the question, since "any pronouns" isn't really normalized outside of queer spaces), and I am thinking I may have made a mistake. I didn't really mean to double down on the "any pronouns" thing, it's just, I'm so tired of pretending to be cis. I'm so exhausted of dodging questions about pronouns and such and putting on this cisgender mask, it just sortof happened.
and I kindof wish I did it intentionally, but also. school just started and my gender is not something I should be giving students, for my own safety. I got bullied/harassed by students relentlessly last school year and I was not even out (I didn't try to hide it either per say, some kids clocked me but most of them were queer in some way also). the world is not currently that safe for trans folks and being a trans educator is even worse tbh. teachers have been harassed and threatened for spreading the "trans agenda" and some have lost their jobs (not in my district to my knowledge but these things aren't isolated). "any pronouns" may sound innocuous but not really caring about pronouns is not a position a typical cis person has. realistically, will doubling down on "any pronouns" directly impact me negatively? probably not. but will it paint a target on my back in the eyes of students and possibly families? unfortunately, yes.
I'm just, so tired of being "closeted." I don't want to put effort into passing or coming out. but I'm always hyper-aware that being genuine in my gender compromises my safety. I doubled down on "any pronouns" without putting any real thought to it, I wasn't being careful, and now I'm so scared this is gonna make my year harder, or put me in danger even. and it's weird because this is the first time I've [[exerted]] my genderqueerness outside of queer spaces. the first time and in possibly the worst place to do so. I don't know where I'm going with this anymore. be hypervigilant about who and where you come out to. because if you lower your guard you can end up hypervigilant about it in retrospect, which, is just anxiety, but man am I thinking about how I made the wrong decision while aware that I didn't even really make a decision.
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arminsumi · 5 months
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★ Satoru's undercut
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★ Synopsis : He fears the hairdresser like it's the dentist. One day, he accidentally gets an undercut style. He would have thrown a tantrum if it weren't for your positive response — because all he really cares about is that you enjoy his haircut.
★ Content : soft fluff, romantic tension, some mutual pining??
★ Library ★ reblog for a cake slice! 🍰
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"This will ruin my life..."
"It will not ruin your life."
"I'm gonna die!"
"You're not gonna die."
"Yes, I'm gonna die! They're gonna cut my head off."
"They're not gonna cut your head off."
Satoru had a haircut appointment which you were accompanying him to as per his desperate demand request. Suguru was there also, helping Shoko with something technical on her phone. He laughed when Satoru was whining to you.
The four of you were on the train; Suguru and Shoko stood tightly packed with their backs facing other people as if they were the group shield. And Satoru sat next to you, clinging to your arm as if he were a kid on his way to the dentist.
"Don't laugh. You know I feel the same about hairdressers as people feel about dentists!" he pouted.
"Satoru, you're so weird." you said.
“I'm not!”
You shook your head at him. Satoru grumbled.
"No one understands me!" he said dramatically.
Suguru commented, "I do understand why you dislike hairdressers, Satoru; most of them don't cut your hair how you want."
Shoko nodded and chimed in, "— yup, and you usually leave with a fake smile and say "oh wowww... I love it!" but you actually hate it." then she went back to frowning at her phone with Suguru.
“My hair is important, I can't afford to have a bad haircut." Satoru said.
"Haha, you make it sound like if you have a bad haircut it could cost you millions." you laughed.
Satoru sat up straighter and spoke seriously, "It may as well cost me millions!"
You didn't understand why Satoru was being so dramatic.
****
The hairdresser looked at you, Shoko and Suguru and then wondered why so many people were accompanying this grown man to his haircut, as if he were about to get a root canal for the first time.
Suguru whispered into her ear, and she blushed at his alluring charm like anyone would.
"He's scared of bad haircuts... so please do your best, he has a girl to impress. See that one sitting there?” Suguru pointed to you, “Yeah, that's the one."
He accidentally flustered her, and he smirked about it when he returned to you and Shoko.
"Suguru, your head looks as big as a bubble about ready to pop." you joked, noticing his smug demeanor as he took a waiting seat with you.
"I think I just flustered the hairdresser on accident." he said.
Shoko chuckled, "Is it ever an accident? I think you do it on purpose — oh, Y/n, I think Satoru is trying to get your attention. Give him some comfort."
Satoru recoiled when the cold blade of the scissors touched his neck, and looked distressed when the hairdresser touched his hair.
You knew he was highly sensitive to touch, especially his hair — he hated people touching his hair (reason X for hating hairdressers). The only person who was allowed to touch his hair was you. Suguru and Shoko needed a "valid reason" for touching Satoru's hair.
But you could comb your fingers through his hair any time, any place for no reason and Satoru would go limp with a smile on his face, completely melting for the act of affection.
Sometimes when it was just you and him alone together in his apartment, especially during his sleepless nights, Satoru would lay his tired head on your lap and ask you to play with his hair. Each stroke of your hand mellowed him out. He especially loved the feeling of your fingers running through his hair when it was fluffy and long.
So really, he feared not the hairdresser or even the bad haircut, but the fact that it might be too short or not fluffy enough for you to enjoy. It had to be just right. He had to maintain his fluffy hair for you.
He wanted to make sure that when you saw him at every party and get-together, you'd think "Wow, Satoru's hair looks so good.". He wanted you to compliment his hair and make him feel good and blushy.
And most of all, he just wanted to please your eyes. He wanted you to be starstruck when you looked at him.
So, a good haircut was critical.
****
Satoru's panic calmed after you took the empty seat next to him. He watched in admiration as you struck up a friendly conversation with the hairdresser. She turned out to be kind. She was an apprentice (picture nervous Satoru stiffening his shoulders when he learned this) and her mother owned the establishment next door.
Satoru was mostly quiet and focused on his reflection in the mirror. He squinted in suspicion when the lady brought out a hair buzzer.
But then you distracted Satoru by asking about what the four of you were doing after this. He stuttered a bit, half-looking at the hair buzzer and jumping a little when it turned on.
You talked so much that Satoru was completely distracted, and the lady could work. Though, it was hard, because Satoru didn't really specify what he wanted... so she winged it.
She thought hey, this guy would look good with an undercut. So, she cut an undercut for Satoru, and looked at you and smirked. His girlfriend will appreciate it, she thought as she looked at you and Satoru talking with hearts in your eyes.
You weren't his girlfriend. But you may as well have been. The two of you were anyways soulmates since kindergarten. Sure, you went away for five years to work abroad, but the link between you and Satoru wasn't broken by the distance.
****
Satoru gasped and nearly fainted when he saw how short his hair had been buzzed at the bottom. His neck felt exposed and suddenly it felt more drafty.
"What the—"
"— oh, you look hot, Satoru." You said.
He immediately shut up and went red in the face.
"Thanks, yeah it looks... yeah." Satoru hesitantly complimented the hairdresser's work.
She beamed proudly and wrapped up the haircutting session. Satoru took off the black dressing gown and stood up and shimmied the white hair off his pants.
"The cat is shedding." you joked, making Satoru grin with sealed lips.
You picked a white strand of his hair off the back of his shirt when he stood in line to pay at the checkout. He didn't notice. Such a cute boy.
Satoru was just grumbling to himself about how he'd need a scarf or turtleneck to compensate for his "practically naked" hairstyle now.
You stared at his undercut and felt your heartbeat get a bit frantic.
Then you kept staring as you left the barber shop.
Satoru wrapped an arm around your shoulders out of habit, as if he were your boyfriend, so the hairdresser felt sure that you two were dating and said something as you two left that really made you and Satoru blush;
"Your girlfriend loves it." she winked.
"I'm not his—"
"She's not my—"
"She sure does! Thanks for everything, see ya." Shoko cut off you and Satoru from responding and shoved the two of you out the door.
****
That comment lingered in the back of yours and Satoru's minds for the rest of the day.
On the train home, you grazed your fingers over Satoru's undercut and it elicited the funniest reaction out of him; he shivered like a cat that had just been scratched in a sweet spot.
"Haha, does that feel good?" you asked.
"It does. But my neck feels naked." Satoru shrugged.
Oh my god, do that again, he thought. It felt so good.
"Aw, then Y/n should wrap her arms around your neck." Suguru said in a flirtatious murmur.
Shoko laughed and propped a cigarette between her lips.
The four of you got off the train, you parted ways. Suguru and Shoko lived in different places and had to wait for their respective trains to take them home. So, you said your goodbyes and went with Satoru.
When you and Satoru moved out of your university housing, you both decided to live on the same street. You can say it was for X reasons, like oh it's a good neighborhood or oh the prices are great or oh the apartment walls aren't thin... but let's be honest; you and Satoru just didn't want to live too far from each other. You were inseparable, even cry-babies whenever the two of you were separated.
Satoru was always clinging or touching you in some way – hanging off your shoulders, resting his chin on the top of your head, draping an arm around you, holding your hand, snuggling into your neck. The closeness brought him more comfort than his own bed. He even claimed once that he could fall asleep on you more readily than on his bed.
Sometimes he was just shy of kissing you when you two met up, or when he knocked on your apartment door some mornings. His lips would graze over yours by accident in some circumstances, and though the two of you would laugh it off, there was an unmistakable spark in the air between you and him.
****
“Do you like it?” Satoru asked.
“I love it. You look really good.” You replied.
Satoru smiled to himself, hiding his face in your lap.
The TV was playing the most recent episode of that trashy romance soap opera – the episode where the two love interests kissed in the rain. Satoru stared hard at their lips connecting, and thought of why he hasn’t attempted to kiss you again. He didn’t want to ruin anything, so he kept his confession to himself even if it was obvious that he liked you.
You noticed he went a bit silent as you ran your fingers through his hair. He made a soft, long groan when your fingertips tickled up the back of his neck and over his prickly undercut.
“You sound like a cat.” You laughed.
His eyes were closed, brows relaxed into a sleepy arch. Whenever he got drowsy in your lap, his lips would part and show his two front teeth.
****
After getting an undercut hairstyle, Satoru was living in heaven with how much attention you gave his hair. Every day you’d find an excuse to play with his hair.
It made his heart beat harder and his mind go blank whenever you touched his neck and hair. He’d get shivers and close his eyes each time you did it, and would even stop talking mid-sentence.
In time it grew out. He refused to go back to the hairdresser, and instead insisted that you cut his hair for him. At first, he attempted to do it himself, but then he wimped out as soon as he held the scissors to his hair.
So, after he practically begged you on his knees and voiced his fear for the hairdresser, you agreed.
Cutting Satoru’s hair was a whole event. You invited Suguru and Shoko over to your apartment, and the four of you were laughing in the cramped bathroom together.
You had no idea what you were doing, and the online tutorials didn’t help much.
Satoru was dramatic when he thought you were cutting it too short or jagged, and he was so very picky that it drove you nuts to the point of putting the scissors down and leaving. But then he hugged your legs and apologized cutely, so you came back. Suguru and Shoko had to get it on camera because it was pure comedy.
“Alright, fairy princess. How did I do?” you asked Satoru.
He checked himself out in the mirror. His jawline and shorter hair drove you a bit wild, it was hard to contain yourself.
“It’s okay.” He replied cheekily.
“Just “okay”?! I put my soul into this!”
He grinned. “I’m just teasing.” He said, “I like it. Now let’s test it out.”
You looked confused. “Test it out?”
“Play with my hair.” He explained, “And tell me you like how it feels or else I’ll cry.” He added dramatically.
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© arminsumi
I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
This is fictional work.
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fairy-hub · 5 months
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𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pure intense fluff, kissing, cuddling, squeezing, handsy pouty bastard, insisting you’ve been neglecting him, his is dying and it’s all your fault, how dare you do this to him, he will hold you accountable for your heinous crimes by cuddling you, toji is going soft for you, established relationship
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Standing in front of your vanity, slipping your earrings off, sticking them with the rest. Glancing into your vanity mirror when Toji emerges from the bathroom.
Arms crossed over his bare pecs sticking his bottom lip out in his adorable pout. It’s one of your favorite Toji expressions. He huffs, “Finally someone figures where they live.”
He unzips the back of your dress. “You weren’t here!” kissing your shoulder. Slipping it down your body, trailing gentle sloppy kisses down your back. “The house was so empty and cold, I was dying of loneliness little mama.”
Stepping out of your dress, he tossing it into the hamper beside the bedroom door. “Is it even a home without you there?” His warm fingers brushing against your back unclasping your bra, gliding the straps off your shoulders. His touch comforting.
You insist, “Without you this place is just some walls.” Grabbing his hands, kissing his warm palms. Glancing into the mirror, Toji “It’s also not my fault you showed up two days early. Couldn't rush a planned girl’s night for your needy ass.” Turning around sliding your hand over his thick pecs, broad shoulder and into his soft dark hair.
“Im only needy when it comes you to mama. You’re so cruel neglecting me.” Grabbing your ass, lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his slim waist.
“We aren't leaving for the weekend. Tired of seeing everyone’s ugly ass faces and hearing their annoying ass voices.” He kisses the top of your head. “Just need to spend some time with you mama.” Wrapping his arms around your waist, squeezing your tightly.
Wheezing, “I'm all your’s Teddy Bear!” Your back pops several times. Gasping for sweet air when he loosens his gasp.
“Damn right you are.” Kissing along Toji’s jawline, softly biting his pouty bottom lip, melting into his gentle kiss.“It’s not fair mama I can't squeeze you like I want to.” Carrying you through the hallway, towards the living room. “Get good mama, lemme squeeze you tighter.”
“Nah Teddy Bear that’s a you problem.” Squeezing Toji’s slim waist with your legs, tightening your grasp around Toji’s neck. “I can hug you as tight as I want. Ha-ha-haha!” Ripping you off him and throwing you onto the sofa.
“Imma make it your problem little mama.” Carefully falling on top of you, pinning your body with his weight. Resting his head on your chest. “Hahah! Looks whose trapped now! I’m not letting you go anywhere beautiful.”
Pushing himself up, and leaning in for a kiss. “All mine.” Parting your lips, the gentle hunger of his passionate kiss replacing your need for air. Slipping your fingers through his soft dark hair.
When he pulls away, covering your face with kisses. You grin widelyz “I missed ya so much teddy bear, I’m all your’s for the rest of the week. I’ll make sure you get sick of me.” Giving your forehead another gentle kiss, squeezing your hips.
It’s comforting having his heavy weight pressing you into the bed. His large strong hands on your body making you feel so safe and protected. His gentle kisses and words ensuring you know how cherished you are.
His cheeks turn pink, spreading across the bridge of his nose, coloring the tips of his ears. “I can never get enough of you.” His eyes widen. “Listen to me, ya made me all mushy, gonna have to hold you responsible. Hmm how should I do that.”
Oreo creampie’s m.list
Satoru’s verison!
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appocalipse · 1 month
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that guy ⊹ steve harrington
summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words
── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──
The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.
It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.
To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.
You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.
"Hi."
You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"
"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."
A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.
How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?
You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.
"So...not the one, I take it?"
Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.
"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."
"Nothing is wrong with you."
"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"
The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."
Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.
"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."
"She does."
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."
"At least you have one."
He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"
You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.
What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.
Until it wasn't.
"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."
"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."
Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"
You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."
"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"
Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.
Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.
"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."
"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.
Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"
"You...don't know him," you hedge.
"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."
"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."
Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."
The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.
You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."
"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.
You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?
You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.
"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."
Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.
The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.
No, you aren't going to cry.
This is stupid.
You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.
When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.
You don't have to look up to know that it's him.
"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.
"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.
There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.
"You look just fine to me."
You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."
He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."
"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.
"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.
You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.
"I should've never asked. That was selfish."
"Forget it," you say.
He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.
You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.
"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."
"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."
"Yup. Exactly. In there."
"So you said."
"Yep."
The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—
He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.
"Okay, so—"
You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.
He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."
You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.
"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.
Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"
"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."
"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"
He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.
"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."
"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.
"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."
"Steve."
"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."
"Steve—"
"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."
He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.
Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.
"Is this okay?" he whispers.
"I don't—what?"
Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.
"This," Steve murmurs.
He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.
"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."
"I think I am."
His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.
"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"
You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.
"Yes. It's you."
A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.
You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.
"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."
A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.
"Oh yeah?"
"Completely."
You kiss him this time.
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