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s0lam33y · 4 months

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You make me so…

producer! riri x reader

a/n: I’m sorry if there r a lot of typos, I didn’t have to re-edit this. I was gonna make this a series but I just decided to turn it into a oneshot ! I feel like it’s a bit all over the place but yknow what? It’s fine 💀

@pvnks0ul @fentibeauty @onyxstones-world @kissvamps @shurislover

Riri 🎶

- meet me at the studio in 30, im tryna wrap this album up, I got places to be.

You read the text from your phone and feel an arm secure around your barely conscious frame. You feel a pair of lips against the nose of your neck that you used to make you shiver in the best way possible but has begun to bore you.

“Where you going?” Your girlfriend, Tori, grumbles as you begin to shift away from her. You turn around and gently kiss her forehead.

“I got to go to the studio.” You tell her as you sit up on the foot of the bed. You pull a shirt from the floor over your naked body. She wasn’t all that good in bed and she didn’t put you to sleep anyway so you don’t see a point in staying. Your girlfriend sits up and rubs at her bleary eyes.

“Why does she always need you?” She questions with irritation seeping through her words. You sigh again, this isn’t the first time she’s commented on Riri texting you late at night. You know it’s not flirtatious and they’ve interacted enough for your girl to hate your producer.

You can’t blame her. Riri’s naturally flirtatious, not purposefully. But her kindness can be taken a certain way. She’s caring, loving and so damn carefree it blows your mind. She calls everyone pet names and your girlfriend wasn’t too happy about it when she heard ‘baby,’ slip out of her mouth. Riri’s respectful and when she saw the slow twitch in your girl’s eyes so she had laid off the pet names for a while. Now she doesn’t care so much.

When you don’t feel like recording, she lets you take breaks. She doesn’t push your limits too quickly. She makes the best beats she can find, Hell, she gets you into after parties. She’s so damn considerate and so sweet.

“It’s work, let it go. A’ight?” You breathe out, walking towards the mirror and fluffing your flattened Afro. You feel arms wrap around your clad waist and want to pry her off of you.

It’s no longer cute, it’s borderline possessive and it’s taking everything in you not to say something crazy.

“As long as you know.” She shrugs, kissing your shoulder before heading out of the room, towards the kitchen you’re sure. You freshen up, wearing a skirt and boots. You never leave without a bunch of bracelets on your arm and golden hoops.

On your way out, you hear your girlfriend’s voice over her mic as she clicks away at her ps5 that you remember buying after your first check from a concert.

“I’m heading out.” You murmur.

“Yeah- Yeah, see you, babe.” She says, more excited at the video game on the flatscreen T.V than you. She doesn’t even spare a glance as you head out of your apartment. You don’t understand how someone can be so considerate and careless as the same time.

You do well for yourself, you live on a rather expensive side of Chicago now. And you’ve managed to take your girlfriend with her, she doesn’t work. Not now. She says she’ll get there at some point but even you aren’t sure when.

You don’t bother driving to Riri’s penthouse. It’s a nice night out, not too cold or too hot. It’s a simple light breeze and you find yourself finding more inspiration anyway. You receive a couple looks, a couple fans bump into you, begging for signatures and snapping photos of you. You’re new to this, the fame and paparazzi. It’s flattering and nowhere near Invasive just yet.

You finally reach Riri’s penthouse after a fifteen minute walk. You can hear the strumming of guitar chords and once you reach to knock a voice sounds.

“Doors already open.” Riri’s voice mentions. You push the door open to find her sitting in her leather couch. Her apartment is full of warm light, it’s the perfect temperature with all kinds of warm toned colors splattered around it.

“Wassup, Y/N. I like your fit.” Riri smiles. She noticed at least. She has a one-sided smile plastered on her face and a part of you can’t tell if you find it cute because it’s her or just a preference you have. Her braids are gathered in a bun on top of her head with spiraling curls framing her face.

“Preciate it.” You reply. She’s man spreading, dressed in loose sweats and sports bra , like she is nearly 90 % of the time. The public notices too and she’s had numerous comparisons to Adam Sandler. She’s more stylish but she has I-Don‘t-Give-A-Fuck, attitude. You noticed the sparkle in her tongue from the piercing lodged there as she begins to speak.

“I just wanted to go over the album, before everything’s set. Is that alright?” She questions as she stands up. She doesn’t walk towards her studio room, instead she walks towards the fridge across the island counter.

“You want sumn to drink?” She offers.

You already know it’s gonna be a long session.

…

“That was good, baby.” Riri encourages through the other side of the glass. You feel your face heat up at her compliment. It’s not the first time she’s ever praised you but you have the same reaction every time. You look up to find her with a headset on and relaxed look.

“Do that again, I need you to drag out the vowels a lil longer, f’me. If you nail that then this album is platinum.” She requests while sitting back and placing her hands behind her head. You hear the beat again. It’s slow, sensual and you find yourself rushing a lot.

That’s what this album is supposed to be. Slow. Sensual. It’s what your going for anyway. It’s supposed to be about love, lust and passion. Your supposed to be thinking about your girl. The woman in your home.

But instead you think of her. The woman in front of you, your producer.

You should be be thinking about your girlfriends smile, the soft cologne she wears, her raunchy laugh. But instead you think of Riri, her perfect hair, the vanilla perfume that she sprays on her neck, the softest chuckle she always lets out and that toothy grin. She has the cutest smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“Y/N, sweetheart, you missed the entire thing, you okay?” Riri asks. You snap your eyes up only to find her looking at you. Have her eyes always been this brown?

“I’m okay.”

“Fuckin’ liar, step out the booth, we gon talk this out, ma.” She replies. You want to complain but you do what she tells you anyway. Because truth is, she could tell you anything and you’d do it. And you hate that.

You take a seat next to a rolling chair next to her and focus on the glass covered album covers behind her.

“What’s botherin’ you?” She investigates. You focus on her the different golden rings on her fingers, the way she twists them around her middle and pointer finger.

“Nothing, I just um- I can’t focus.” You admit.

“Yeah? And why is that?” She digs deeper, sitting up so her elbow rests on her knees. Have her arms been so toned? You watch the Cuban link around her move back and forth.

“Is it sumn with yo girl?” She guesses. She takes your silence as a yes. She’s always seemed neutral when it comes to your girlfriend. She doesn’t mention it.

“Y/N, do you love her?” Riri asks.

“I don’t know.” You reply and Riri doesn’t know the reason why your questioning it is because of her. She smiles at you, and you’re sure she’s gonna drop some wisdom.

“Go home…go see her, we have a long day tomorrow, we got an after party. I want you to let loose and have fun.” She encourages as her hand gravitates towards the curve of your left shoulder.

“But the album-“

“I’ll put it together, you’ve given me everything I need.” She insists as she ushers you out. You want to reach out for hug but for some reason that seems to intimate.

“I’ll see you.” She promises and just like that you’re out in the Chicago air again.

Her words stick in your mind.

“you’ve given me everything I need.”

…

The next morning is busy. You wake yourself up and catch the sunrise but don’t have time to watch it. You run through your skincare routine, in the hopes of not having any breakouts.

You plan out your outfit for tonight, you want something that presents you on the outside. So you settle for a dark black body con dress, some black boots to match and a leather jacket. You’ll pair it with some shades and silver jewelry.

This is technically your first after-party and although it’s not a big deal to many artists, it’s a big deal to you. You’re going to meet so many other artists like you, some that you’ve been admiring for years.

While your in your robe, rubbing cream into your face, arms wrap around your waist like they do nearly every morning.

You wonder what Riri’s morning routine is like. Knowing her, she probably wakes up later than she should and most likely stays in bed. It’s wrong for think of someone else while your have a good girlfriend standing right behind you.

Tori’s stable. Predictable. She’s comfortable. She doesn’t try to make you happy anymore, she doesn’t know what you favor. Hell, she barely listens to your music. But you too, have grown far too comfortable. You know what she likes. You’ve known her since you were both in highschool. It’s too late to back out now.

You lean back in her arms and the smell of her cologne has become unfamiliar, your body and system have become accustomed to the scent of sweet vanilla and warm lavender.

“Want some coffee?” She asks and all you can do is smile and nod. You want Riri, but the guilt is too much. The guilt of leaving Tori would squeeze the life out of you.

She has no one but you. Hell, she moved from New York to Chicago to chase your dreams with you. You can’t have her and Riri at the same time. She hands you your coffee, it’s black and there’s nowhere near enough cream but you smile as you drink. She’s good to you.

Riri is no longer an option, she never should’ve been.

…

The party is at a high-end club. Filled with artists, big and small. None that you can see because of the lowly dimmed red lights throughout.

Riri 🎶

-wya? I got ppl for you to meet.

You try to text back but you feel a hand squeeze your own and look back to see Tori smiling at you. She isn’t dressed to coordinate your outfit but she still looks good, only in a simple white Tee and cargo pants.

“You look good, babe.” She smiles, kissing your shoulder excitedly. Her hand squeeze yours again. You notice that she has no rings on it. You shake your head out of it and feel her hand loosen up as her body tenses behind you. You aren’t sure why until you lift your head up. You find Riri in front of you, she’s in the middle of conversation and throwing her head back as she laughs.

She looks gorgeous. Beautiful. She’s in an oversized suit with nothing but supple skin underneath and a plunged v-neck. She holds a clear glass of what you think is wine and her face beat with a soft glam which you see due to her braids being pulled in a high pony tail. She has her rings on as usual and her chain. That never changed.

Tori’s hand trails down to rest on your waist as Riri approaches. You do your best not to stare at the space between her breasts.

“Nice to see you two.” She smiles, gold decorating her bottom row of teeth. You hear Tori fake a laugh as you smile.

“Y/N, I got a couple people for you to meet, just let me know when you ready.” She points out with her bottom lip tucked into her mouth. You spin on your heel to look at displeased Tori.

“Go, I’ll meet you later, mhm?” You suggests. She mumbles something under her breath and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s messy and your sure your lip liner is on her own lips. You latch away from her and find a waiting Riri.

“Here you go,” She says as she hands you a glass of wine. The even doesn’t call for it but she doesn’t need you borderline drunk especially if it’s for business.

Throughout the night, she introduced you to everyone she can think of. All of her friends, all of the artists she works with, some big and some small. You don’t notice how many drinks you begin to grab and she eventually has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you on your feet. You start to lean into her touch for support, grabbing at shockingly toned shoulders and veiny hands.

“I think you’re done with the drinks, baby.” She whispers lowly as she leans into you. She had caught you trying to grab another but stopped you before you had the chance.

“I don’t need you ruining y’image.” She says sternly. The carefree version of her that you know is long-gone. Her face is stern as she guides you to a more empty part of the club. She puts you up against a wall, forcing her hands not to linger as she reaches into the pocket of your leather jacket.

Your mind is hazy, cloudy is a better word for it. You’re beginning to see two of her.

“Y/N, put the pin in.” She orders as she placed the phone in your face. You want to say something to her, tell her that she looks so fucking good. And that you’ve noticed the tattooed lined down her sternum.

“I’m calling Tori for you.” She sighs.

“Don’t, please. Not now.” You murmur as she puts the phone to her ear. You grab the lapels of her jacket and pull her close, so close that you can tell that she’s swapped her vanilla perfume for something more expensive.

“I want you.” You clarify through a croaky voice. Her eyes widen to the size of plates as you lean in, pressing her body to your own. She leans in close, so fucking close you can taste it.

“I’m not gonna be your second choice, Y/N. I refuse to be an option, okay?” She coldly clarifies. It feels like a damn slap to the face.

The distance between the two or you causes her to drop your phone which she quickly picks up anyway.

“Stop, Y/N. I’m callin’.” She insists. She looks…uneasy. She takes a step back, breathing in deeply as she looks at you with the phone to her ear.

“Yeah, man, she tipsy. We on the bottom floor, by the entrance.” She hangs up and slips your phone back into your pocket.

“We won’t mention this, you’re just drunk, you don’t want this, baby. You don’t want me, aight?” She says, like she’s trying to convince you but more-so herself. She smiles, hoping that it spreads onto your face but it doesn’t. She brings your hand to her lips and for the first time her lips touch your skin. You’ll never forget it. The coldness of her rings, the softness of her fingertips and the callouses on her palm.

“Go home, ma. I’ll see you.” She says with a sad smile that’s etched itself into your mind. She blends in with the lights the further she walks away from you and all you want to do is call for her but you hear Tori’s voice sound form behind you.

“Let me take you home.” She suggests, interlocking her bare fingers with the one that Riri just kissed. Your hand feels gross now, and you can feel the sweat that’s accumulated on your palm.

She kisses your temple but no matter where she kisses you. It won’t compare to the softest one you’ve ever received.

You agree to let her take you home. That’s the good choice. Tori’s the good choice. But if she is then why doesn’t it feel so fucking wrong?

…

You wake up the next morning with a slight headache but that’s not the worse part. The worse part is that you remember every single part you of last night. You remember Riri, her outfit, her voice, her kiss.

“You got real tipsy.” Tori murmurs as she rubs your back. You’re leaned over the bathroom sink with watery eyes and an angry stomach.

“I bet.” You murmur. You’ve always been a lightweight so even you don’t understand why you decided to get wine drunk last night.

“Yeah and uh- I’ll give you some space.” Tori says, leaving you with your thoughts.

You luckily, never end up puking your guts out but the nausea never leaves. Not becomes of the alcohol but because of the genuine anxiety from last night. You try to get some sleep but you never do.

…

Two days after the party you find Riri in her studio. She hasn’t spoken a word about the club. It’s like it’s been wiped from her brain. She keeps calling you pet names and has the softest smile on your face you swear you lose synapses by the second.

But you can’t play along. You’re not sure you want to. You’re seated right next to her with your album playing. The open room feels so stuffy.

And today there are no songs to finish up, or to record. All you two have to do is go over your album. Every song there is. And her favorite song begins to play. It’s your least favorite, more vulnerable than you’d like, it’s not your best work. You named it Seen, again, not your best work, not the most thought out.

“We should scrap that.” You murmur. It’s too intimate, and you’re beginning to hate it. Especially since Riri’s the one hearing it.

“Nah, let it play.” She sighs. All she would really need is a blunt to relax her. You stare at her, admiring her side profile while she closes her eyes. You know it’s about her. The song is about her. All of the nights she spent thinking of lyrics and love, were spent thinking around Riri. You watch her visibly relax, her abs tensing on every inhale and chest rising on every exhale.

“Riri-“

Her eyes meet yours before you can finish your sentence.

“I know…I was hoping you had forgotten, Y/N.” She says, nearly whispering into the air. You’re so tired of having to settle. Riri doesn’t let you, she doesn’t let you settle for bad brand deals, bad concerts, bad programs. You don’t think about any what if’s, what cons there are in your career because as of now she’s done everything in her power so you don’t have to.

"You've given me a lot, Y/N. But I grew up watching my parents and the love they got...There's no one else for them, there's no other choice. They're meant to be...I want nothing less. I don't want to be the other woman." She murmurs, her eyes low as she stares ahead. You remain silent because there's nothing you can think of saying. "Ion know how you feel bout Tori, I know you want me...But it's not difficult to want someone, You don't want me more than you want Tori," But you do. "I don't like this, being confused. You want me but you still with her..." She exhales before continues. " I can't accept that and neither should you." Your song has stopped playing for a long time. She still doesn't turn her head to look at you. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and both of you know who's calling. Riri knows you'll pick up. She knows now that you'll always pick Tori and seeing it will only solidify her thoughts. Tori's good, She's stable. She's everything you need. She should be enough. If that's the case why do you constantly need to remind yourself. You put the phone to your ear and watch Riri shift a little in her chair. Within two minutes, you're walking towards her apartment door. You don't say anything but before you can walk too far, she speaks. "Get home safe." ...

Within days, your album charts in the top 10 on Spotify and Apple music. Your phone blows with congratulation messages from people you love, people dear to you, people you haven't spoken to in years and exes that you have forgotten to block. While you're in the car with Tori, your least favorite song begins to play on the Radio. Today has been so confusing. It's been the worst day and best day of your life. There's nothing scarier than being vulnerable especially to millions of people worldwide. "This song is real cute, Who's it about?" Tori grins, confident that the song is all about her. Then your heart sinks and you realize that out of the hundreds of messages, you really only wanted to see one. Your eyes begin to burn with tears and your phone pings. Speak of the devil.

Riri 🎶

- congrats, y/n. you deserve it :)

You put your phone down and in your pocket, forcing a smile on your face.

“You.” You murmur and it excites the woman next to you but she doesn’t know who lingers in your mind. She never will.

what y'all think?

#riri williams #riri williams x reader

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southparkl4d · 1 year

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part uhhhhh 25 wow this took me a while my confidence in making this rly deteriorated throughout the process but it turned out pretty ok i think

Jimmy, Tweek, Clyde and Bebe take a shortcut through the North Park Funland, an abandoned amusement park stocked full of fun and definitely not infested with the undead. Clyde and Jimmy are infatuated with the empty park, thinking it’s awesome they have this entire place to themselves. Bebe is indifferent and cool-headed, while Tweek is constantly paranoid for every step he takes.

explanations:

Everything lined in red is not actually there. Bebe, Jimmy, Clyde and even Tweek don’t see these, but rather it’s a manifestation of Tweek’s anxiety and paranoia. The entity in the mirror house, the hunter watching the group, Craig, Clyde and Tolkien being deceased, Tweek’s tears, the flashes of him being dismembered, the figure watching Tweek sitting on the bench, Bebe being eaten alive, the smoker tongue/zombie figures about to attack Jimmy and Clyde while they enter the gift shop.

The last scene with the art styles switching is supposed to be Tweek spiraling into an even worse panicked state, things becoming disoriented and abnormal. Clyde has an X over the eye that is no longer there instead of an eyepatch because Tweek is thinking back to when he first lost it, with the thought that the same fate or even worse could happen to any of them at all times if they weren’t careful enough.

The second part of the styles switching is a flashback of Tweek’s memories before the apocalypse started, walking in the school hallway. Bebe is scribbled out because he didn’t know her well back then and Clyde has his other eye. The scene fades out, thus ending the animatic, leaving Tweek’s feelings unresolved and seemingly unending.

Jimmy and Clyde barely take notice of Tweek’s mental state, and Bebe tries to help but doesn’t fully understand what Tweek needs for support. He’s keeping a lot of his feelings internal, rather than normally yelling and expressing his emotions due to not wanting to attract a horde and killing himself and his group.

what was the point of this animatic:

to shine a light on how tweek is handling his anxiety throughout the apocalypse, and the negative effects it brings to him mentally

sry i hope this makes sense i literally had no plan while i was making this 3/4s of this was made up on the spot lol i have homework to do man

also a huge huge ginormous thank u to everyone who drew a frame for the last scene i seriously appreciate u putting time into making something for my au thats actually so awesome

❗️SLIDE 30 OF LAST SCENE CREDIT WAS FORGOTTEN - @moltergeist ON TUMBLR

#southparkl4d #southparkau #south park #south park au

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seokka0o · 5 months

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홍승한 - Hong Seunghan //Contain: afab!reader // Smut - Unprotected sex; enemies to something like lovers; college au

You could have a lot of questions under the hood. Looks exchanged in the college hallway could be considered a mere decoration and this childish intrigue, Seunghan was no fool, much less you, all this accumulated hatred and this lack of tact in dealing with each other had a not very secret meaning behind it. .

It was too luxurious a party to be sponsored by the college alone, many students there were supported by their millionaire parents, the fraternities were the biggest providers of that whole exhibition, mainly from you and from Seunghan, both as leaders of the fraternity house and two entities with greater power in that place, complete opposites, there were no treaties, when one wins, it means the other is losing and this encourages disproportionate fights between the two blocs.

Everyone in the room and already drunk until they lose track of space, loud music , this kind of thing. You in the dorm, Seunghan between your legs and you moaning greedily as he fucks you with all his being.

“You're a joke” he mocked without no shame in the face, both completely left out and your morals on the floor along with the clothes he took off without any effort, in known waters. Seunghan grabbed your leg tightly, pushing it up eyes to watch your pussy receive his dick so easily.

“S-Shut up” you whined and bit your lower lip, wanting to punish him for even being so full of himself at times like this, but getting lost in Seunghan's low talk and the more precise thrust he gave, hitting you deep with his cock, crazy in the feeling of your insides compressing him and pulling away so easily.

You guys serve up too good of a facade, he smiled with his thin lips and released him to lean towards you, slowing down the speed in question to thrust into you slowly, eager to hear you moan softly, with your eyes fixed on his. Seunghan was close, cute smile plastered on his lips, his face sweaty with his hair pulled back, you have a vague mention of the black earring in his ear and it makes you roll your eyes. It was impossible not to give in to him, anyway.

“Easy as the little thing you are” Seunghan said, starting to kiss your jaw, big hands going up to your chest to touch your nipple and make fun.

“D-Don’t you dare” you moved your hips, looking for more aggressive contact, but seunghan just remained as usual, giving you nothing but despair. Seunghan ignored your order and bit your neck, ran the tip of his tongue and sucked the skin, confidently, your moan was shrill, the slap on the other's back was out of purpose, as a return of his grace.

“Damn, your slap hurts” he commented after letting go of your skin with a snap, the smile returned to his lips.

“F-Fuck, are you stupid?” You complained and he caressed your face.

"I? Who is losing their mind?” You didn't understand the sentence, before saying anything else he went back to fucking you like he should have been doing before, straight and right, the party was going wild and you felt Seunghan crush your insides, the words stopped in your throat, your nails started to score his back, making Seunghan moan into the curve of your neck, where he was at that moment, marks that you would leave for him to brag about when he looked in the mirror later.

“Fuck me… h-harder....please-” you whimpered to his aid, the moans mixing, the frames slamming, Seunghan didn’t need to go too far, he was included in it. You came first, Seunghan had this gift that any man would have had perhaps one day, That's why you hated him so much. Soon after, he jumped out of you, taking his hand to his hard member to masturbate and throw it all out, onto your belly, like a desperate man, moaning at the top of his lungs, panting and satisfied with the sight of you all filled with his cum.

#riize hard hours #riize smut #seunghan hard hours #seunghan smut #seunghan x reader #riize x reader

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tfxtime · 1 year

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Newfound Understanding

Greg was an understanding Father to his kids, he was attentive and patient. He just wasn't very active, in areas where most Dad's would be teaching their kids how to catch, Greg was teaching them mathematics and history.

This of course didn't stop his kids from partaking in sports, his youngest son Arthur was now in college leading the wrestling team to the State Championship. Greg was always so supportive and went to as many matches as he could, with his wife passing away his kids had become his world.

During the meets Greg would be cheering in his usual song song voice. Normally this was drowned out by most of the crowd, and if you weren't paying attention then you wouldn't have noticed the thin man in his plain dress shirt and pants. Unnoticed by everyone except Arthur, Arthur always heard his Dad's weak chants through the crowd and it made him shrink, which in wrestling is the last thing you want to do. The match went well and Arthur's team won, despite some slip ups on his part. The team was coming together and celebrating as Greg's meek voice came through trying to reach Arthur.

"Artie!" He called as his son then turned his head towards his Dad eyes widening slightly as he pulled away from the group.

"I am so proud of you! You really wrestled well!" Arthur grabbed his Dad and led him into the locker room and had him sit down.

"Dad you know I really appreciate you being here, but I got distracted because of you." Arthur explained as Greg looked up at him with a sad expression creeping over his tired face. "I'm just starting out here and I need to be at my best you know? I just could tell you were watching me cause you care, which is great! It just felt like a new kind of pressure...I'm sorry."

"No no...I'm sorry for putting that on you. I'll still come to the games, just won't be as loud I think." He stands up placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Don't exactly fit this place anyway." Greg admitted as one of Arthur's teammates came in.

"Artie we're going out, you coming?" He asked as Arthur looked at his Dad, Greg nodded with a small smile. Arthur nodded and leaned briefly into his Dad and then left leaving Greg alone.

Greg sighed as he sat down again his eyes staring blankly at the grey floor. His eyes trailing around absently until he laid his eyes on the singlet laying on the floor half in the locker half out. He sighed standing up his hands gingerly picked it up and then looked around. He rolled it out after just folding it up and placed it over his chest.

"It's...it's so skimpy?" He mutters to himself as he then looks around. The gymnasium had fallen quiet as now most people had left. "Well...never tried it before." He thought, he quickly stripped himself of his plain office attire. He shimmied his way into the singlet and pulled it up over his shoulders. Even though it was spandex it was still loose and clinging barely to Greg's frame. He brought up his arms and gave a paltry flex.

"That was silly." He sighed as he moved to take it off the bands pulling away only to snap back to his body. A small yelp was heard from Greg as he tried and tried to get the singlet off. He stopped as he felt a wave of heat wash over him, beads of sweat forming on his brow. His breathing became heavy as he lunged himself onto the sink counter by the showers. He put his hand against the mirror, the glass began to fog up from the intense heat Greg was producing. His eyes traveled over his body, it was covered in sweat and the singlet was tight against his frail musculature until he locked eyes on his hands. He could feel his skin boil and pop crackling underneath as now both hands rested on the mirror. His hands grew outwards the fingers swelling larger, hands growing callouses from the intense training hours they did.

As his hands grew the changes spread forth his forearms swell up veins snaking their way up through his arms as his hands balled up into fists as his muscles began flexing. His biceps began to blow up with muscle the fibers twisting under the skin as he felt his shoulders snap and pop. He let out a lewd moan as he felt the shift in his neck his voice dropping lower as well becoming thicker. His beard was replaced with a square jawline. Years of wrinkles washed away as his face began to twist and turn younger and younger. His hair shortened and became a warm chestnut blonde, while his hair was finishing up his chest practically ballooned out. The fabric of the singlet stretched over the expansive muscle as the pecs jiggled with growing mass. Greg's legs nearly buckled at the new growth, his cock was already strained against the fabric a measly 5 incher that barely had a dent on the groin. He moaned as his cock snaked upwards towards his hardening torso. It felt almost as if the singlet was massaging his cock and stretching it out. It compressed tightly against his shaft causing him to grip the countertop as his legs exploded with girth and mass. His ass filling out the singlet even further than before. He could feel his nuts swell and tighten up as he let out a deep and gutteral moan as he shot stream after stream of cum against his midsection soaking into the fabric disappearing.

Nearly dazed to the point of seeing stars Greg slowly stood himself up his new stature was impressive 6'4 versus 5'8 and about 100 pounds of muscle Greg couldn't help but run his hands over his body. His pecs popping as he teases the new form.

"Greg!" Arthur's voice echoed through the locker room as Greg stood up straight before turning around to see his son looking at him.

"Hey before we go we gotta take pictures for the school c'mon."

"Yeah of course." Greg nodded unsure in the moment before they both walked out of the locker room.

Greg smiled for the picture with his new best friend Artie.

"Hey man how's your Dad?" Greg asked between shots as Arthur nodded.

"He's good, busy but good." He answered leading to Greg to smile wide, his old life fading from memory all that remained was his new life filled with huge possibilities.

#male tf #muscle growth tf #body transformation #male possession #body suit tf #mental change tf #reality change #merging tf #male transformation #merging #cock tf #singlet

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wittyminds · 2 months

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Golden Hour - James Potter

Anonymous request:

also, i dunno if you’re still active, since it’s been a while, BUTTT james potter with a girlfriend taking care of him after he’s at a party?

James Potter x Girlfriend Reader

Warnings - Fluff, fluff and more fluff

A/N

sorry it's been ages since my last post, i needed time to do exams, mental health stuff etc and this was distracting me from school (i say that and im supposed to be studying for an exam tomorrow). i am trying to answer the prompts people gave me and i apologise again for the extremely long wait. i understand if you're a little annoyed or have forgotten about asking in the first place. this isn't my best story i'll admit and it is a little short but... i tried :/

You can't remember how long the party had gone on for but, by the time you climb the stairs to the dormitory to crash, the clocks read 2 o'clock. You probably could've stayed longer if Sirius hadn't been flirting with you drunkenly or if your boyfriend, James, hadn't started singing a cappella ABBA. Not that he's a bad singer. He just gets a bit... friendly towards everyone around him.

After wrestling your way through the crowd, you now stand overlooking the party, fighting the urge to facepalm at your boyfriend as he prances about the room.

You carry yourself to your room, changing into your comfies and burrowing down into your blankets. A book that has been gathering dust on your table catches your interest and just as you slide the bookmark out, a loud thump against the door causes you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Springing from your bed, you slowly make your way to the door, fight or flight responses going crazy. Of course, it could just be one of your roommates. They were light drinkers and after a couple drinks they all went down like dominoes. Or it could be Sirius coming to ask if you want another drink or a dance.

You shake your head at the thought and open the door, staring up at the boy swaying in the dim light.

His large frame crashes through the door, almost crushing you.

"James!" You put your hands out to stop him from going any further forward and he staggers, trying to keep his balance.

His brow furrows as he looks around, clearly confused by his surroundings and you can't help but laugh slightly at the sight.

"Hang on.." His voice slurs and he stumbles over his feet again, "This isn't the boy's dorm."

You place your hands on his chest and steady him, "No. No it's not."

"Oh.." He steps back unsteadily into the hall, leaving you to follow him in case of an accident.

By the time you both reach the boy's dormitory, the only victims of his drunken state were an innocent coffee table, a series of butterbeer bottles and a terrified first year who just wanted to go to bed.

You practically carry him to his room, which proves a difficult task given he is nearly twice your size. He mumbles something as you lay him down but not even he seems to know what he's rambling on about.

"Right," You say softly, tucking his blankets over him like a child, "Go to sleep, you idiot."

He smiles a smile that scrunches his nose and you mirror him, giggling quietly.

"You're pr'tty."

Your smile falters slightly and try to stop the blush rising to your cheeks.

You had almost forgotten about his shameless honesty when drunk. Sure, it was nice to hear but he could warn you a little before springing the charm on you. He knows how easily you blush and was constantly using to his advantage.

When you turn to face him, he is still staring at you with large puppy dog eyes and a lazy smile that warms your heart. With a roll of your eyes, you walk back over and perch on the edge of the bed.

"Come again, Jamie?" Your voice was quiet but sweet and his crooked grin made the blush come back in a warm rush.

"You're pretty." His words are less slurred this time and you brush a hand over his hair, sweeping it out of his eyes fondly.

"I think you need to sleep, love." You murmur, trying to ignore the urge to fall asleep curled next to him, "You'll regret it tomorrow if you don't."

"Ugh." His face screws up and you giggle softly at the animated response, "You sound just like Moony!"

You roll your eyes again and just as you stand up, he makes a clumsy grab for your hand and pulls you back. You land on his chest and see him holding back a grunt of surprise from the impact.

You laugh out an apology and he looks away drowsily, clearly away to fall asleep.

"G'night, Jamie." His eyelids flutter and he forces his eyes open.

"What? I'm not sleepy!" He cries, voice scratchy already and rubs an eye with one hand, the other pulling you closer.

"Seriously?" You can't help but play along with his game.

"Mhm." He nods his head, "I could stay up for hours!"

His eyes droop again and his breathing grows heavy.

"Jamie?"

"Mhm?"

"You're falling asleep."

He doesn't reply and when you look up, his eyes are closed.

Taking the opportunity, you attempt to climb off of him but his arm is like a vice and you groan, silently cursing his stubbornness. Your head falls against his chest, his heartbeat filling your ears and you find yourself relaxing at the sound.

The golden glow of the candles sends a warm light over James and you can't help but stare at his still form, taking in every detail. The light dusting of freckles across his nose and the faint trace of a scar from a Quidditch match in his third year.

This is your own perfect golden hour, the two of you snuggled up with the smell of butterbeer and autumn outside.

You wait for his snores to fill the room but they don't come. Had he finally stopped snoring? Or was he trying to prove he wasn't sleeping?

"I'm gonna marry you one day."

His voice breaks the silence and your heart flutters at the words. You look up at your boyfriend and cuddle in closer to his side, wanting to stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you in your own perfect world.

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havemyheartaziraphale · 16 days

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Ok so this is for @melbatron5000 and @somehow-a-human mostly because I want input on your theories and my forming theory. Also, @indigovigilance has some decent screen grabs too. Sorry for having a wall of text here, I'm on mobile and still not used to posting on Tumblr

I absolutely agree with something being passed to Aziraphale during their kiss. I have watched the scene several times now and can spot the thing myself. I can see it in the photos you guys have as well.

I also stand by my theory there's a body swap going on. I wasn't entirely sure when it happened, until probably tonight. I know not everyone agrees with me but right now that's fine. Whatever.

Nightingales is DEFINITELY a code word. Got that straight off, wouldn't be able to tell you 100% what exactly for, except to me maybe it's saying "we need to do the body swap again".

Here's the thing: I had to go back and watch the body swap in S1 before I felt confident in this. I will stand by this theory now because I'm pretty certain of it.

There's clearly missed signals and unsaid things. I think the conversation we see is not everything that was said, based on the camera angles, the fact that so many of those lines can easily be pulled for sound bites and not seem odd/off, and the fact that their actions when out of shot don't entirely match up to what's being said. But the gist of the conversation is the same. They eventually come to the understanding that something needs to happen and they're not going to like it.

Here's where I think things change.

Nightingales is the signal that there's a swap that needs to happen. Crowley has already told Aziraphale that he can't leave the bookshop. Crowley knows this, and he also knows that the only way to get to Heaven is by having an angel escort him there. Aziraphale on the other hand will have no problems going whenever he needs to. Crowley needs to be taken, so he needs his Azi-suit.

With Crowley-as-Aziraphale(CAA) in heaven, he'll be able to do whatever mischief he needs/wants to. He can clearly already access files up there still. We know he has to have been a powerful/higher up angel before his Fall. He just needs a way in first.

When did the body swap happen?

Good question, and it took me a lot of thinking and rewatching of that flipping kiss to finally decide and work out when it was; the moment Aziraphale "allows" himself to hold Crowley.

What am I on about? I'll tell you.

Rewatch the body swap in S1. They hold hands, time stops, and you see them change back. Obviously CAA and Aziraphale-as-Crowley (AAC) are sat in their usual spaces so the characters are in the wrong seats. Once they're back, they look normal. Everything is tickety-boo.

Except in the KISS, they're very much in the same positions. Of course, Aziraphale places his hands on Crowley briefly, allowing for stability, a time freeze, and the chance to switch round before resuming. Probably gives them a little time to confirm some stuff too. There's so many camera cuts and frame changes that allow for this to be true, otherwise why not just show it from one angle? And why is that dang clock also skipping time suddenly yes I know Neil may have said it's just a continuity error at one point but I don't trust him because he also lies and it's way too obvious with that clock in the background

So what about the bullet/metal ball in CAA mouth? Definitely Aziraphale's memories of his chat with Metatron, and anything else CAA may need. (This isn't a repeat, this is a mirror of the bullet catch. Crowley fired the bullet, Azi caught it. This time, Azi fires the bullet, Crowley catches it.) CAA then says the phrase he knows AAC will understand, and that also sounds like Azi to anyone listening, and AAC responds. Like codes. "I forgive you... Dont bother." Exit: Azi-as-Crowley.

Of course Metatron then swans in and interrupts CAA while he's still getting his bearings, and mentions the Second Coming. I don't think even Crowley expected it to be this. Hence the Look he gives AAC.

Metatron still gives CAA a slightly suspicious look in the elevator, which I don't think many people mention enough. And that whole end credits bit of them as they're heading off is just... Odd. BUT, and here's where I'm certain it's CAA, the look of sheer determined destruction on Azi's face is the same from S1 body swap. I went back and checked, just to be sure. That's 100% Crowley right there. And now he has the bullet in his mouth, access to heaven thanks to being escorted by Metatron, and Aziraphale still able to look after the bookshop in disguise.

Points I also want to make

Crowley would not be the sort of person (demon/being) to just stand there and wait for Azi to go up to Heaven. We've seen he'll just go off without a word. At least twice. (When Azi is in thought about Job, and when Nina talks to him after she confirms she'll be at the Street Traders meeting). Crowley doesn't linger.

Crowley would also not be the one to choose to listen to A Nightingale Sang. That is all Aziraphale babyyyyyy. The Bentley knows them both well enough by now. Crowley likes his rock and Bebop, Azi likes his classical, more soothing tunes. Crowley certainly wouldn't listen to a song if he was upset with it. Azi allows himself to hear it before turning it off. He's the sentimental one.

#good omens theories #good omens 2 #good omens meta #body swap

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sokkastyles · 7 months

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Hi,

Hope you are doing well.

Thank you for the answer to my previous query. I had another query about Aang.

I once recall reading a meta that Aang getting hit by Azula's lightning was a punishment for him choosing power instead of love. I can't recall the whole thing, but from what I remember, it seems like Aang was punished because he chose the power of the Avatar State over his love of Katara. But that has me confused, because this power he needed to save the three nations from the Fire Nation. So, it makes no sense why him choosing this power was wrong, over his love for Katara.

I would like your thoughts over this.

This is a place where I get what the show was trying to do, but they framed it in absolutely the wrong way. I think Aang going into the Avatar State in Ba Sing Se was supposed to be him choosing power over love, hence the "I'm sorry, Katara," line. I think we are supposed to think that in his desperation to save everyone from Azula and the Dai Li, he chooses power, contrary to what the show earlier framed as the wise choice of choosing love over power.

The problem with this is that it's a false dichotomy. It supposes that what the Guru was telling him about giving up earthly attachments to unblock his chakras and enter the Avatar State meant giving up love altogether and choosing power over love, when it shouldn't mean that at all.

Giving up selfish attachments means accepting love, the kind of love that is giving and not taking. Aang can still love Katara, but he should not be using Katara as a replacement for his people or seeing her as someone who will come around eventually because he wants her to. This kind of love is sacrificial because it requires letting go of entitlement to the person, and if they really love you, they will come back to you on their own.

I really actually thought that this was the narrative being built for Aang and Katara at the tail end of season two, especially since it mirrors Zuko and Iroh's narrative so well. It also fits so well with the show's theme of setting up false dichotomies in order to later prove them false. See: earthbenders cannot bend metal, firebending is always destructive, the elements themselves as always seperate from each other, etc. The Guru gives this same advice to Aang, so why would he advise Aang to choose power over love, to choose another dichotomy? Because Aang understanding it as a dichotomy is a misunderstanding of what the Guru was trying to teach him.

But then Aang just "decides" to go into the Avatar State and we're supposed to believe the "I'm sorry" is him giving up his love for Katara. How did he accomplish this huge emotional work, since it was so hard for him before? We don't know. Especially in a moment when Katara is being threatened, a moment when he should realistically feel more attached and possessive of her than ever. You're telling me that after all that, Aang was able to grieve his people and reconcile his attachment to Katara and reach enlightenment all in, what, two seconds, when five minutes before he was saying he couldn't do it?

It makes no sense. Especially since he is at this point still misunderstanding what the Guru was trying to teach him.

Especially given his talk with Iroh in which Iroh said it was wise to choose happiness and love. It makes no sense, without any build up, for Aang to suddenly make the opposite decision, and the idea of him being punished for it makes even less sense, since we don't know why he did it. There was no visible internal conflict going on because Aang had already decided not to choose power over love. If he's supposed to be uncertain leading up to a wrong choice, show me that. The way the show has Zuko visibly torn between his love for Iroh and Katara's compassion and the power and validation he craves from his father.

It also makes no sense as a choice between power and love in the first place because he chose the power FOR Katara, because she was in danger. In the exact same way he rejected the Guru's advice because he had a vision of Katara in danger. So he actually didn't change anything. So being punished for choosing power doesn't make sense, because the thing he still needs to learn is that it was never a dichotomy in the first place, and that was supposed to unlock the power.

I said before that I think a real narrative punishment as a consequence for not understanding the Guru's advice would be Katara actually getting captured as a result of Aang's inability to go into the Avatar State. After that, Aang would spend a time more attached to Katara than ever, still unable to go into the Avatar State until he reconciles this internal conflict within himself, until he learns not to choose power for power's sake, or love for the sake of validation. Until he learns that his duty as Avatar is a duty of love, and that both of these things go hand in hand. The responsibility of power meeting the responsibility of what it means to love another human being.

Instead, the show has Aang just decide to go into the Avatar State, and replaces the internal conflict with "well Azula shot him so now he can't go into the Avatar State," so his internal conflict never actually gets resolved.

I also wrote about this here. And I think the fact that that asker saw a post claiming that this scene is Aang letting go of his attachment to Katara while you saw a post that framed it as him getting punished underlines the confusion over what the writers were trying to do with this scene and the sloppy way it's written, especially in comparison to other places where the writing is phenomenal.

#atla critical #the crossroads of destiny

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aquarii-if · 15 days

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Liviana has never cared for birthday gifts.

In her eyes, the best parts of her birthday came from the people she was surrounded with. Even if she never got another gift again, she'd be willing to do anything to spend every birthday surrounded by people she loves. She never wants to be lonely on her birthday.

But despite the thousands of people standing outside right now, she's never felt so alone.

While the day used to be spent laughing with friends and eating the small candy her mom could afford, nowadays, she can’t spend a single second of the day without seeing reminders.

Her eyes trail down to the framed picture on her dresser, four smiling faces look back at her. She feels tears brink on the corner of her eyes as memories come flooding back. Celebration is hard when in the middle of a war, but she remembers her old friends trying their best with what they had. Cakes made out of dirt that they smashed and threw at each other, pretending the gunshots were fireworks, sneaking off to a new area to explore... Sure, it was depressing, knowing that as soon as the day was over they'd turn back to the horrifying reality, but it was nice to just forget for a little while.

Now, as queen, she no longer has to worry about the scary noises and the blood staining her clothes. She gets to spend her birthday surrounded by her citizens and a pile of gifts she once believed only existed in fairytales.

Without the friends she's had since birth.

She shakes her head, looking away from the picture, remembering what Estelle told her after it was over. "They knew what they were doing when they started the revolution. They knew the risks. You knew the risks. It's not your fault, Liviana. They'd hate to see you beating yourself up over this."

Estelle's right, but she can't convince herself to believe it. While she's here celebrating, enjoying her reign as queen, enjoying being alive, they're all stuck in Mahina's realm. The only consolation that they're even the slightest bit happy is promises and reassurances from Mahina herself, a woman who is known to not be trustworthy.

She's interrupted by a loud knock at the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She doesn't need to turn around to know who it is.

"Are you just going to sit here and sulk all day?" Estelle calls out, tapping her fingers on the door frame.

When Liviana doesn't turn around, Estelle groans, bringing a hand up to her face. "Liv, you can't keep doing this. Hiding in your room isn't going to bring them back. I know you're still grieving, but it's not going to get any easier if you don't allow yourself to take a break and feel for once."

Liviana wipes a stray tear from her cheek as she shakes her head. "I can't trust myself to not cry in front of everyone."

Estelle walks over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Then cry."

Liviana meets her eyes. "What?"

"Show them how you feel." Estelle shrugs. "They'll understand, they were there too. They lost people, loved ones, friends... They probably feel the same way you do. You're Mitan, Livi, not a machine, you're allowed to grieve and you're allowed to show that you are grieving. I promise they'll understand, and I'm sure they'd appreciate you reminding them that you do care."

They fall into silence for a moment, listening to the cheering and festivities outside, before Liviana slowly nods. "Yes... You're right. I can be strong, but I'm allowed to feel weak as well."

Liviana turns to the mirror, fixing herself as a small smile appears on her lips. "Let this day of my birth be dedicated to those who cannot celebrate anymore. My friends, my family, my comrades, we shall use this day to remember those who are believed to be forgotten."

#aquarii #liviana #snippet #birthday #this came out more angsty than i expected #i guess that kind of summarizes liviana's character tho #haha

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incorrectshantaequotes · 27 days

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Rotty Rotten's Dream Team, pt. 1

Business is as usual in Lazytown, with Rotty Rotten cooking up another scheme to thwart Shantacus' efforts to keep the town active and healthy, and a great one too, if she says so herself - after all, four heads are better than one! Cloning herself was a genius move...only, well, she didn't actually clone herself, per say, and none of them know how to be proper villains, but no matter! She'll make this work! Even if it takes a musical number! Especially if it takes a musical number.

NOTE: This takes place after the last April Fool's fic, but you don't need to read that one to understand this one. I still have not watched Lazytown, but we all know that song. You know the one.

Sometimes, Rotty Rotten really had to stop to appreciate her sense of interior design. After all, most people wouldn't exactly be clamoring for an underground location - even before Shantacus rolled into town and got everyone moving, most of the inhabitants did enjoy being in the sun, and Rotty could fully admit to herself that she occasionally liked to go out in it too. But she did make it an extremely tough decision! Not only did her house have the appropriate flair for a villain like herself, but also had all the luxuries she could ever want - a heavenly, fuzzy couch, the largest TV in Lazytown (technically, Shantaflop had a bigger one up in her blimp, but she barely used it so Rotty decided it didn't count), and a fully stocked mini-fridge! All the things she needed to lay around and do absolutely nothing. Even when she wasn't actively slacking off, it helped give her lair a nice, cozy feeling. Put her in a good mood. Especially when she was about to get a scheme rolling, such as right now.

"Come on, come on, just a little bit more..." Rotty Rotten tapped her foot impatiently, a bit giddy as she looked down at her watch to check the time again. She almost went over to her laptop to double check the estimated delivery time, but the doorbell rang before she could, and her grin grew wide. "Aha!"

She rushed over to the door, opening it with aplomb before nodding to the deliveryman outside. "Thank you, good sir! Here's a tip for you, and have a wonderful day!"

With that, she rolled her package inside and shoved the door closed with a quick backwards kick, giggling to herself as she rolled it further into her lair over to her workspace. Rotty would have gone with a full evil laugh as she set the package down, but frankly she was far too excited to be that composed, so she settled for letting her giggles get louder before she pulled out the box cutter. "Alright! First, let's double check to see if this is the right thing..."

She took a moment to circle around the package, carefully looking it up and down and nodding a bit to herself. It was taller than her by a fair margin, as she expected, and the box did seem to fit the dimensions of the item she ordered. "...hmm, got the right address...name's on this thing...'handle with care, arcane material inside;' sounds about right...think the only step left to take is to just cut the box open!"

With a push of her finger, she flicked the blade out and ran the box cutter down the side facing her. Carefully - still wanted the box intact in case this did turn out to be a wrong order - she pulled out the object inside with bated breath...and her grin grew wider still. "Oh, yes! This...this is perfect! Shantacus will never see this coming!"

Rotty did let out an evil laugh this time, eyes glinting with glee as she took in her latest purchase from over the internet - a grand, full-length mirror, with an ornate silver framing around the reflecting surface. One could easily mistake this for a completely ordinary mirror, but Rotty Rotten knew better. She'd made sure to triple check her sources, go to the seller with the best and most honest reviews, and read through the PDF of the user's manual the seller graciously provided on request five times over. She hadn't really dabbled with the arcane before, and didn't really intend to after this, but the end result would be well worth it. She knew she had a tendency to put a bit more confidence in her plans than was entirely earned, but this was different. It wasn't so often that her plans could be so simple and yet so effective, after all!

The plan had found its way into her head around this time the week before, as she'd looked over the blueprints for a potential trap for Shantacus. Capturing the blue-clad heroine was easier said than done - the woman had superhuman speed that Rotty couldn't react to, an uncanny intuition to avoid her tricks after plenty of exposure to her, and a tendency to be extremely...for lack of a better word, flippy. It was very distracting, for reasons she was not going to say out loud (especially because, after that one time she sprained her ankle, she was fairly certain some of the kids had a betting ring regarding her and Shantacus, and while Rotty might not have had any stake in it she was determined to win). All of which was to say, most of her Shantacus traps had to be Rube Goldberg-esque contraptions, or required Rotty to lure her in, neither of which were ideal. And then, out of the blue, it hit her - what if...she just got a helping hand? Or, to be more precise, made a helping hand?

It was so simple, Rotty wasn't sure how she could've possibly missed it before! With enough people working to set up traps across Lazytown, Shantacus couldn't possibly dodge them all! And once she'd finally captured Shantacus, victory would be hers! The only real issue was, how to do it? Her first thought had been robots, but she'd seen enough sci-fi movies to know how that would go: they'd probably decide to overthrow humanity, or worse, the robots would unionize, and Rotty would have to deal with the one evil she dared not unleash, even on herself...paperwork. Urgh. Rotty Rotten was all for unions, but it just wasn't worth dealing with one herself. So, with robots firmly placed in "no," the next logical step was clones! After all, she was a smart and intelligent woman, right? She could figure out a deal with herself.

Unfortunately, Rotty Rotten may have been good with tech, but she wasn't that good. So, with that in mind, she'd opted for a magic substitute. The Mirror of Selves-Reflection (which Rotty thought was worth the purchase just for the name alone; the name being slightly awkward was far outshined by the wordplay) had been hard to find, but surprisingly simple to purchase! She hadn't known there was an entire eBay website for magic items, but there was. Trying to make sure she wasn't being scammed had been an ordeal, but if this went well...oh, the things she could do! Finally, with a copy of her own mind to help her with her goals, Rotty Rotten would catch Shantacus once and for all, and then...! Well, she hadn't figured out what she'd do after that, but she could workshop something with her clones. Part of the benefit of having four heads instead of one!

The only real issue with the Mirror of Selves-Reflection was how it required an elaborate ritual to actually use it, but...there was a reason Rotty had requested the user's manual before she actually got her hands on the mirror.

"Alright, in you go!" Without much fanfare, Rotty Rotten picked up the mirror and awkwardly stumbled over to a large, clunky machine in the middle of the room, sliding the mirror into a thin slot on the side of a particularly bulky box. With that, she pressed a green button, and she heard the sounds of pipes extending and connecting to the mirror with a hiss of steam, with the slot closing up to hide the process. It wasn't supposed to be used as a battery for a cloning machine, but it was definitely possible, and she didn't feel like going through that whole ritual every time she wanted to clone herself. Besides, what was the worst thing that could happen? No clones?

"Now, for the main event..." Rubbing her hands together with glee, Rotty pranced over to the console for the machine. Setting the number of clones to three for the moment, she then turned her attention to the big switch right in the middle, and pushed down with all her might. A steady hum began to emit from the machine, visible cogs beginning to churn as lights flashed on and off. Taking a few steps back, Rotty Rotten took a moment to appreciate her work as everything began to go faster, the humming rising in pitch as all the moving parts came closer and closer to reaching their peak. To be completely honest, most of it was for show; there really wasn't any complex machinations in there when most of the work was being done by the mirror, but it gave everything a sense of grandeur, and that was the most important thing!

"Alright, Shantaflop, time for you to face your worst nightmare...myself!" With that dramatic declaration, Rotty Rotten let out a full maniacal cackle as every part of the machine reached max speed, cogs whirring fast enough to give Shantacus a run for her money and lights flashing like she was at a rave, the humming of the machine going higher and higher until...ding! With that one little chime, the machine very quickly slowed to a stop, and with eager anticipation, Rotty Rotten ran over to the other side of the machine, where a pipe was sticking out and turned towards the ground. Looking down, Rotty Rotten braced herself for the inevitable weirdness of seeing, well, herself...but she had to stop to do a double take as she actually looked at the results. "What the?"

The thing was, that was definitely her, alright. The green skin, hair, and red eyes were kind of unmistakable, and it helped that there was some purple on all of their clothing. She couldn't exactly call them clones, though! Two of them were younger than her, for one thing - thankfully not kid-aged, because that would have been a hassle, but still younger - and of the two younger hers, one of them was dressed like something out of a high fantasy film, with the her that actually matched her age apparently having a similar taste in fashion, albeit with a more modern touch. It honestly stumped Rotty - the mirror should've made perfect clones, not...whatever this was. Did she miss something? Did the machine mess up the process somehow?

Figuring it was good to double check her sources, Rotty Rotten went back to the package, looking around the cardboard to find...aha! The user's manual, this time in print! Flipping it open, Rotty began to speed-read; hopefully she could find the source of the problem quickly. Warning, blah blah blah, side effects may include, blah blah blah, alternate universes, blah blah-WAIT A MINUTE. Rotty Rotten started scanning that paragraph again, making sure she was reading it right...and then immediately smacked herself in the forehead. "Oh, come on! That is so not cloning!"

All this time, she'd skimmed past the part that went over how the Mirror of Selves-Reflection actually worked, because she assumed she already knew: cloning! It cloned people, because that was what she asked for, and that was how it was presented to her! Except, no, what it actually did was pull alternate versions of herself from different universes. Alternate versions of herself that were living their own, alternate lives, up until the mirror had so rudely interrupted them. Great. Fantastic. So, she was going to have to spend a few hours converting her "cloning" machine into one that would send them all back to their appropriate worlds, because she knew she wouldn't want to be dragged into an alternate universe and be stuck there for the rest of her life, and to make matters worse, she had no idea what these alternate hers were like! They might not even be villains, for all she knew!

But, as Rotty heard a few groans coming out of the pile of alternate selves, she sighed and put the user's manual down for a moment. Alright, whatever. She was just going to have to roll with this and hope for the best. Walking over to her various selves, she started to help them up to their feet.

Ow.

That was Rottytops' first thought. And her second and third thought. Her fourth thought, after she got over how sore she was, was "where am I, anyway?" One moment, she was in the family caravan, preparing to ask Shantae out for a date, the next she was here, in a pile of bodies. She couldn't really see much of her surroundings at the moment, with her view being almost exclusively limited to the floor - some kind of blue metal, but not the kind of blue she associated with Ammo Baron. No, this was more of a dreary blue, a shade she'd expect to see in a haunted house. Before she could contemplate what that meant though, she felt the weight of whoever else was in here with her get lifted off, and then someone else's hand reached out to her. "Come on, up you get..."

Wow, sounded like whoever that was had a rough day; she could practically feel the exasperation from here. She also sounded a lot like...Rottytops, weirdly enough, but the zombie girl decided to ignore that for a moment, just accepting the hand and pulling herself to her feet. She looked around, intending to take in her surroundings, but instead she found herself reconsidering her choice ten seconds ago to ignore how the mysterious woman sounded like her, because now Rottytops was wondering - did she somehow acquire three entire clones while she wasn't looking? She hadn't really encountered clones before, but this really looked a lot like a clone situation.

The one closest to her was wearing armor almost like that set she'd found in Shantae's closet a few months ago (her girlfriend had, unfortunately, refused to elaborate beyond mentioning she'd gotten it during the Siren Island incident), only with a diamond-shaped breastplate that covered more of her torso, as well as different coloring - purple with silver trimming rather than red and gold. Oh, and the animal pelts. Those were also there. They were all over her doppelganger, the majority serving to form a pseudo-cloak of sorts as well as a longer skirt, with the others serving as simple decoration alongside a collection of animal teeth and claws. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, much like her Fillin disguise, but other than that she practically looked identical. She also had a massive hammer, the head of the weapon having detailing resembling a castle on the front and back end while a skull sat in the middle. It would be extremely tempting to reach out and smack someone with it if Rotty didn't know that she'd likely fall to pieces trying to swing that thing.

The other two were, thankfully, easier to tell apart from her, because they were clearly older, more Risky's age than hers. The one adult clone that had been in the pile with her had a sense of aesthetic that Rottytops had to appreciate - she wore a tattered purple...wizard's cloak? Trenchcoat? Some sort of hybrid between the two? Whatever it was, it was tattered, purple, and had a set of white ribs around the torso as reinforcement. Out of the four, she had the longest hair, with just enough of it hanging in front of her face to shadow her eyes and make them seem to glow, which, combined with her mischievous smirk...again, Rottytops really had to appreciate the aesthetic, there. She'd somehow managed to land the perfect balance between "monster from a ghost story," "powerful wizard," and "used magic carpet saleswoman," and honestly, Rottytops was considering taking notes. Maybe not too much, though; her older clone was perhaps a biiiiiit intimidating.

That left the only her who, as far as Rottytops could tell, had not been in the pile, and frankly the most confusing one. She was dressed up in a vest and pants with red and purple vertical stripes running up them both, with a dark blue, sleeveless undersuit beneath it, exposing her bare shoulders and the stitch tattoo around her left arm (which confused Rotty a little bit; did she never get that arm detached or something?). Finishing off her choice of clothing were a pair of simple gloves the same shade as the undersuit, as well as a pair of skull earrings that matched Rottytops' own. She also had the closest hairstyle to Rottytops, albeit with some differences; she had more of an undercut, leading to a slightly choppier hairstyle than Rottytops herself, but otherwise it was pretty close.

Before any of them could start talking, the last clone Rottytops had looked at sighed, and spoke up. "Alright, I know my own thought process, so I'll answer your most immediate questions: yes, we're all the same person; no, we're not clones. I was trying to make clones of myself, but I got ripped off with a stupid magic artifact that gave me different versions of myself from alternate universes. Don't ask, I'll explain in a bit here. Now, care to introduce yourselves?"

Oh! Alternate universes. That would've been...her third guess, probably. Second guess would've definitely been secret identical twin she somehow didn't know about. She definitely had questions, but Rottytops was willing to let...herself? Explain herself? That didn't sound right. Man, this was going to be confusing. Still, she gave her older self a winning smile, and said, "Rottytops-"/"Rottytops-"

She immediately stopped herself, and turned to look at her identical self, who frankly looked just as shocked as she was. Her older self in the pinstripe suit sighed wearily, shaking her head. "...we'll put a pin in that. How about you? Please tell me your name isn't the same as theirs, too?"

Her other older self paused to consider the question for a moment, then casually shrugged. "I mean, technically it is? Only my brothers know about that, though. I tend to go by Lich Baron these days."

...oh. That...might explain the intimidation factor. And was also mildly concerning, ringing plenty of alarm bells in her head; aside from Squid Baron being basically harmless, anyone with the name Baron was bad news. And judging by the wary expression of her armored self, that wasn't just the case in her universe, either. Her other older self just looked mildly confused, clearly not recognizing the significance of the title. Which was both relieving, because that meant she probably wasn't a Baron herself, and worrying, because it meant she didn't recognize Lich Baron for the danger she represented. As if to prove her point, her older self spoke up then, "So...what? You just have a lavish house where you store all your goodies or something?"

Lich Baron seemed surprised for a moment, but then the smirk was back, and she let out a slight chuckle. "Yeah, something like that."

Her older self squinted at Lich Baron for a moment, suspicious, but then shook her head, turning her attention back to the group as a whole. "Well, you can call me Rotty Rotten. Now, back to you two - do either of you have another name I can use? Because, fair warning, if you don't, I will just use One and Two."

"Oh! Uh..." Rottytops took a moment to think. Well, she did have Fillin, but she didn't have the outfit on, so would it really feel right...? Eh, everything about this situation was weird; she'd worry about the logistics later. "Well, I did make an alternate identity for myself once. Fillin-"

"-De'Blanc?" Rotty Rotten interrupted, eyes wide in surprise. Rottytops was a bit shocked, herself; apparently that scheme wasn't exclusive to her. Who knew?

"Just the Blank, but...yeah, exactly," Rottytops nodded slowly. "I'm guessing that one's a no-go, then?"

Rotty Rotten looked to the side, a slight blush on her cheeks. "...yeah, let's...not do that one."

Oh, there was a story there. But, out of respect for her older self who was apparently responsible for all of this, Rottytops decided not to ask. Yet. She would put her expert badgering skills to use later. Before she could respond, though, her armored self spoke up.

"So, guess it falls to me to use a different name, then?" She questioned. Now that they weren't talking at the same time, Rottytops noticed that she had a slight accent that none of the others had, including herself. Rotty Rotten started to say something, but her armored self shook her head, lifting her hammer and resting it on her shoulder. "No worries, I'm fine with it. Just call me Cadaver."

"...huh," Rotty Rotten took the name in stride, taking a few steps back to look over them all, and then shrugging. "Well, if you say so. Now! Onto the more important question...are any of you villains?"

Rottytops blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden non-sequitor and the weight Rotty Rotten put on the word villains. Without thinking, she remarked, "I consider myself more of a prankster dabbling in the art of chicanery, personally? I've only done like, one evil thing and felt really bad about it later."

Cadaver raised her hand. "My first few days of existence were as the brainwashed general of an undead army trying to take over the world. Wasn't really me in there, but I still remember all of it. Does that count?"

Rotty Rotten looked utterly poleaxed. "...no, no it does not, and I am very worried about whatever standards your villains hold themselves to. Lich Baron? You?"

Lich Baron simply looked up and answered, "Yup."

"Oh, thank you! I got worried when the Mirror of Selves-Reflection turned out to be an alternate universe thing instead of a clone thing," Rotty Rotten sighed in relief, and suddenly those alarm bells were back in full force. "Alright, Rottytops, Cadaver, go ahead and help yourself to the lair while Lich Baron and I discuss business; I'll be sure to send you back to your homes by the end of the day. Now, Lich Baron, what are your skills exactly...?"

Rottytops looked to her armored self, who thankfully seemed equally concerned about this whole thing. Before either of them could start talking to come up with a plan, though, Lich Baron answered, "Oh, I raise the dead."

Rottytops looked back just in time to see the utter horror and disbelief on Rotty Rotten's face, which Lich Baron seemed completely oblivious to as she went on, "So, you want an undead uprising? I don't know exactly what your plan is, but there's not a lot of schemes that don't go smoother if the hero is busy fighting off an undead uprising. Normally I wouldn't put too much effort into this kind of thing, but you're, well, me, and I happen to have a show I don't want to miss, so I'm willing to give you a...eh, decent undead uprising. What do you say? Sound fun? Have a specific time, or-"

"NO! No undead uprising! Ever! Are you out of your mind!?" Rotty Rotten hissed, pulling her other self close. "Think of the children!"

Lich Baron stared with wide eyes. Rottytops almost felt bad for her; she knew what it looked like when she was faking confusion, so she could tell that Lich Baron honestly didn't get why Rotten was opposed to an undead uprising. "...eh, fair enough, I guess? I'm fine dialing it back; less work for me. Guess I'll just go with...ten skeletons? That sound good? Just ten?"

Honestly, Rottytops thought that did actually sound reasonable, especially compared to the Barons she knew, but Rotty Rotten clearly thought otherwise. "I said no undead uprising, and I meant it! What is WRONG with you!? Ugh, never mind; worst case scenario is fully in play."

Before Lich Baron could say something in her defense, Rotty Rotten turned to Rottytops and Cadaver. "Alright, you two! I am going to teach you how to be villains..."

She swiveled to face Lich Baron with a glare. "And I'm going to teach you how to be chill."

Rotty Rotten turned around, shaking her head as she whispered to herself, "Honestly, undead uprising...what are they doing over there?"

With that, she started to march, addressing the whole group as she walked off. "I'm going to ready the presentation now! It should only take a few minutes, so don't go anywhere!"

Huh. If it were anyone else, Rottytops would be concerned, but her alternate self seemed to have a far different idea of what villainy was than was typical for any of their universes. So, as it was, Rottytops was curious to see where this was going. Maybe she could do something to test the waters real quick...? See how far this goes, anyway. She thought it over, running over different ideas in her head, before stumbling over one that made her grin in anticipation.

Clearing her throat to catch her older self's attention, Rottytops remarked, "Will the presentation include a musical number?"

She expected Rotty Rotten to just be confused, or perhaps roll her eyes at the joke. She did not expect her to actually consider the question, looking very contemplative as she stood in thought. Eventually, she answered, "...no, I don't have one prepared at the moment, but you know what? We ARE doing a musical number later. I will guarantee we do a musical number later. You can bet on it."

With that, Rotty Rotten walked away, leaving Rottytops stunned in her place. Well, damn. She was going to be in a musical number now, apparently. Was that just normal in this universe? Was she the prankee, here? Before she could contemplate this further, though, she was interrupted by her other older self.

"...I am chill, though," Turning to face Lich Baron, Rottytops looked up to see...wow. Was she pouting? She was absolutely pouting. It was kinda funny, honestly, compared to how intimidating she'd been earlier. Maybe she shouldn't get so much of a kick out of what was technically her own misery (or however you'd quantify the misery of your alternate self), but Rottytops was willing to chalk that up to her being a naturally funny person even when she wasn't trying. "I just spook people sometimes, I don't even make my undead do anything! Aside from like, theft, but that's in the job description. What do you guys think? You think I'm chill, right?"

"...eh...?" Rottytops shrugged, giving Lich Baron the universal so-so gesture. "I mean, towards the end, sure, but you did open up with a whole undead uprising."

Clearly despairing, Lich Baron turned to Cadaver, who simply responded, "You're better than Hypno Baron."

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Lich Baron slumped over. "No one appreciates me here..."

True to her word, Rotty Rotten had set up her presentation - whatever that entailed - up relatively quickly. Rottytops, or rather, Cadaver, could appreciate that this supposed "villain" was considerate of their time, even though they'd only met because of a misunderstanding in magical artifacts. She'd wasted no time in establishing what the situation was, making sure they all had names to call each other, and - to some degree - informing them of why she'd set up her cloning plan in the first place, even if she hadn't actually said the reason out loud. It was the sort of directness that Cadaver could appreciate.

Truth be told, it was...nice to be able to go by Cadaver again, if only for a little while. One of the only intended freedoms Hypno Baron had given her back when she was first resurrected was her choice of name, and for that, she'd chosen General Cadaver. That name had lasted up until she and Hypno Baron had come face to face with Bolo's party and she broke out of his control, for after he was defeated and she stuck around...well, she knew exactly where she wanted to go, and as much as she liked her name, she saw no point in using a name that they'd only associate with the cold, calculating general at Hypno Baron's side. So, she'd picked out another name, joined Bolo's party (the others still made jokes about how she didn't, you know, ask, like a "normal person," but it worked, didn't it?), and that was that. Rottytops was a nice name, too, and in some ways better than Cadaver ever was, but Cadaver was still the first one she chose.

Shaking her head out of her thoughts, Cadaver sat down next to the other Rottytops, with Lich Baron on the other side. Truth be told, Cadaver couldn't quite get herself to let her guard down around Lich Baron - she was far too familiar with the dangers of necromancers to let herself do that - but, contrasted to how Rotty Rotten seemed to perceive her, Lich Baron ultimately seemed harmless. Or, rather, she could do harm, but she had a feeling most of the time it was very negligible. More like that strange fellow who kept making a nuisance of himself, Squid Baron, than the mad Hypno Baron she was familiar with. And Rotty Rotten, whether she wanted to admit it or not, seemed closer to the other Rottytops' description of a prankster than anything else.

Rotty Rotten pulled down a screen and cleared her throat, and with that cue the lights darkened and something flickered on, projecting an image onto the screen - a simple purple backdrop with gears and skulls on it. Cadaver let out a slight hum of appreciation, then turned her attention to her alternate self as she pulled out a pointer. "Alright, let's give a bit of context first..."

Extending the pointer, she tapped the screen, and the image changed to a serene-looking town with bright, cheery colors. "So! This, right here, is where we currently are: my perfect little hometown, Lazytown! A town where no one did anything, really, and I was able to sit back and relax to my hearts content...well, it used to be, anyway."

The presentation switched to her next image, showing what appeared to be a blue airship, high up in the sky. Cadaver's eyes widened, and her old general mindset started kicking into overdrive - airships were a hypothetical in her world, with no one having the manpower or materials to build one themselves just yet, so to show one so casually likely meant that either the technology they had here was more advanced, airships were incredibly common, or some combination of both. It'd be a fairly difficult target to take down, too, considering the only one who might be able to get into the air was Lich Baron...but, before she could strategize further, Cadaver shook her head and firmly reminded herself that, no matter how reasonable she was and likely would be, this was still the word of someone who actively called herself a villain, so she might want to hold back on the militant strategizing for now.

"You see, a while back, let's say...oh, a year or two now? Someone showed up and decided to get people moving, and that someone's name was Shantacus," Rotty Rotten growled, her tone layered with something bitter as she shook her head. For her part, Cadaver felt her face scrunch up in confusion, and a quick look around showed that her alternate counterparts were equally confused, even Lich Baron. Of course, she was quick to connect the name to Shantae, one of her party members, and she wasn't really surprised to find out she was a hero in this world, but...it was a bit hard to imagine herself at odds with the half-fae girl. In complete defiance of the typical slippery and treacherous image the Rogue class carried with it, Shantae was very earnest, often trying her best to communicate with her team and even the opponent if it was clear they could see reason. And while they'd be at odds in this world, Cadaver also knew for a fact that she wasn't really the type to hold grudges, with Hypno Baron being an exception. Needless to say, something would have had to go terribly wrong for Shantae to be in the same class as Hypno Baron here, and by all accounts, it hadn't - so, she had to wonder, was Rotty Rotten's anger real, or simply performative? A question to consider for later.

"...and with her around, the whole town started getting into fitness, with running and sports and yoga and blegh," Rotty Rotten gagged, sticking her tongue out and shuddering in disgust. Cadaver, personally, couldn't relate, but she did see Lich Baron nod in sympathy. "Do you know how much noise that much running and exercise makes when you live right underneath people's feet? Because let me tell you, it's a LOT! And since I couldn't exactly file a noise complaint for an entire town, and believe me, I tried, the solution was clear - Shantacus had to go! And so, thus began our esteemed rivalry..."

The other Rottytops raised her hand.

"Yes, Rottytops?" Rotty Rotten turned to her similarly-aged counterpart, and Cadaver very promptly reminded herself that she wasn't responding to Rottytops for now.

"Genuine question, can you not just, like...soundproof your place, or something?" The other Rottytops asked, tilting her head with a raised eyebrow. Honestly, she'd been wondering that herself, so she turned her attention to Rotty Rotten.

"Well...yes, I've got better soundproofing now," Rotty Rotten muttered, a blush dusting her cheeks as she looked away from her audience. "But at this point it's the principle of the thing! Lazy is LITERALLY in the town's name; we don't need any of this fitness junk! So Shantaflop can take her sports and her diets and shove it...whatever, that's not important right now! Moving on!"

She tapped the pointer to the screen again, switching the image to another shot of the town. "Now, obviously, the most effective method of getting Shantacus out of town is just catching her myself, but that tends to be very difficult to do for...reasons you are about to witness for yourself. I hope you don't mind if I take a step back, because this is...very depressing for me to watch."

Without further ado, Rotty Rotten tapped the image again, looking away and walking off to the side, but rather than the image changing entirely to a new one, it began moving. Cadaver was impressed and wondered what it was; magic? Technology? Some combination of both? She didn't ponder about that for long, though, as the moving image showed Rotty Rotten peeking out from behind a bench, a comically large net slung over her shoulder. She looked around, clearly anticipating something, and then her eyes darted to the right, and she grinned, jumping up to her full height and swinging the net down-

Cadaver could fully admit she was attracted to Shantae. The girl was clever, but humble, kind to a world that often didn't extend the same kindness to her just because of who she was born to, and incredible in a fight in ways she couldn't help but admire, having an uncanny ability to detect and take out ambushes to the party before any of them were even aware of the danger. It wasn't something she acted on, given that her teammate seemed incredibly shy around her for some reason - she suspected Sky knew, but the druid had grown more and more exasperated each time she asked, so she clearly didn't feel like telling her - but it was nice for her to think about. Maybe, at some point, she'd be able to work herself up to make the first move, but only when she was sure Shantae wouldn't be scared off when she asked.

All of this was to say, she wasn't quite prepared to see Shantacus in action for the first time. The blue-clad heroine adeptly flipped in the radius of the net and out in the blink of an eye, outpacing Rotty Rotten without even trying, and when she zoomed up behind her to give a grin to the villain...the way Shantacus smiled, and the way she laughed, so confident and carefree, got her heart racing in ways she hadn't thought it could anymore, considering her undead nature. Her strategic side wanted to slap her upside the head and make her pay attention, but for once, Cadaver couldn't bring herself to care, and as the moving image unfurled into a compilation of various failed capture attempts, her focus was entirely on how confident Shantacus' gait was, how sure she was in herself, and, to a lesser extent, the way her body had been toned to perfection. She personally didn't quite care about that sort of thing - she thought Shantae's more athletic build fit her more than an Amazon - but it was a nice bonus. All Cadaver could think of, seeing Shantacus, was, how could I get my Shantae to act like this? How could I make her this confident?

A long, drawn out wolf-whistle snapped Cadaver out of her reverie, and she realized with some embarrassment that the compilation had ended without her realizing. Looking over, she took some relief in that she wasn't alone, as she saw that the other Rottytops was blushing like mad, eyes snapped to the screen and wide with disbelief. Before she could look to see Lich Baron's reaction though, she heard the thwip of a robe being raised high into the air as quickly as possible.

Rotty Rotten sighed wearily. "I don't know how you managed to connect any of that to your undead shtick, and I don't care - no undead uprising."

"That wasn't my question," Lich Baron stated, her grin clear even when Cadaver wasn't looking at her.

"Then what was it?" Rotty Rotten snapped, clearly expecting her alternate self to not have an answer.

"Is Shantacus single?" Lich Baron asked, with approximately zero hesitation or remorse. Almost immediately, the other Rottytops' blush grew, and though she didn't have a mirror for reference, Cadaver was sure she had her own, similarly-sized blush. As for Rotty Rotten, she had her own blush beginning to rise as she started to indignantly squawk, trying to form words but failing for a few moments.

"T-that's-Shantaflop's relationship status is NOT RELEVANT to this conversation!" Rotty Rotten finally managed, shaking her head furiously.

"Yes it is," Lich Baron shook her head in disagreement. "Because, well, Captain Shantae is fun and all, nice to tease, puts sooooooo much effort into hiding how much of a softie she is, and I would like to actually get a relationship with her going at some point...buuuuut she also has trust issues up the wazoo, and while I'll still pick Captain Shantae over her every day, Shantacus having NONE of those issues, and being jacked on top of that? Putting up some serious competition there. If she's anything like the good captain, I don't think it'd be too much trouble to seduce her into a trap...and, I mean, if you aren't going to do anything-"

"Absolutely not!" Rotty Rotten hissed, crossing her arms in an X. "There is to be no, and I mean no, flirting with the enemy! Snackcakes is off-limits-"

She suddenly stopped, her blush growing more as her words silently sunk in. Cadaver slowly raised an eyebrow as she considered the clearly more affectionate nickname for the hero, and the other Rottytops' expression slowly turned into a grin of its own, as she opened her mouth to say something-

"You heard nothing. You did not hear Snackcakes, you heard Shantaflop. That nickname does not leave this room," Rotty Rotten shook her head, taking a moment to glare at each of them. "And it especially does not leave this room in front of the kids, because I don't know what bet they have going on with me and Shantacus, but I am winning it, do you understand me?"

"Mhm. Hear you loud and clear, boss," With a mock salute, Lich Baron gave Rotty Rotten a nod before leaning back, clearly pleased with herself.

In the meantime, Cadaver was starting to piece together the picture. Her alternate counterpart was clearly attracted to Shantacus, that much had been made clear, but considering they'd started out in opposing roles and still disagreed on how fitness should be handled in this town (she still didn't get WHY that was their conflict, honestly; she supposed it might just be the weird standards of this world)...hmm. Did she just not know how to make the switch? Was this some sort of elaborate way of flirting with the hero? Cadaver didn't really care much for complicated schemes. She could make them, sure, and definitely understand them, but she knew from experience that so many complex plans had a tendency to fall apart the instant you did something they didn't expect - for instance, braining Hypno Baron with her hammer the moment she snapped out of his control - so she preferred the more direct approach. This would all be so much easier if Rotty Rotten decided to forgo the "villainy" and just ask Shantacus out on a date.

"Moving on..." Said villain shook her head, tapping the pointer to the screen again to move it to the next image. "Normally, in order to get anywhere close to capturing Shantacus I do need to use tricks like that, but there's a reason I was trying to clone myself - if we set up enough traps around town, then it doesn't matter how simple they are, Shantacus will have to fall into one of them eventually. Quantity has a quality all its own, after all! So, I'm going to teach you all how to set up some traps, and then, once we all go around and set them up...bye bye, Shantacus! Any questions?"

Part of Cadaver wanted to ask if Rotten would just go ahead and ask Shantacus out, but she didn't think that'd be well-received. So, she thought of another question as she raised her hand.

"Yes, Cadaver?" Rotty Rotten nodded towards her.

"What do you plan on doing if you succeed?" Cadaver calmly asked, raising an eyebrow. Not once had Rotty Rotten mentioned her plans for after the fact, after all.

Almost immediately, Rotty Rotten's face fell into one of irritation. "Well, I was going to work it out with my clones, but considering I'm the only me here - no offense to all of you, of course - I'm just going to have to figure it out later. Don't worry about it. Anyone else?"

Cadaver, the other Rottytops, and Lich Baron looked at each other, then shook their heads in a decisive no.

"Good! Now, prepare yourselves; we'll be heading towards sunlight in a few minutes!" With that, Rotty Rotten gave a decisive nod, and walked off, presumably to get materials.

Cadaver waited for a few moments, then stood up and began to walk off to a further part of the room from Lich Baron, hammer in hand. As she found a wall and leaned against it, contemplating her next move, she saw the other Rottytops stand next to her out of the corner of her eye.

"So...are you going to help weird not-actually-a-villain-you? Or, uh, us? Or...wow, this is confusing," The other Rottytops shook her head. "But, you get my point, right? Figured I'd ask the only other hero in the room."

Cadaver tilted her head, then nodded. "As long as we take precautions to make sure the traps don't catch anyone else in the crossfire, I don't see the harm. I'm mostly just hoping to convince her to ask Shantacus out on a date directly."

"Ah, okay, cool, cool, I'm not the only one who thinks this is an elaborate date set-up, good to know," The other Rottytops gave Cadaver her own nod, pleased to be vindicated.

Cadaver paused for a moment. "Out of curiosity, how did you get to that conclusion? I know my line of thought, but I want to hear yours."

The other Rottytops very quickly started blushing again. "Well, uh...honestly, when I thought about it, it sounded like something I would do if I was desperate enough? And, y'know, wasn't already dating my Shantae, but that's besides the point."

Cadaver considered this new information, then slowly turned her head to give the other Rottytops' a raised eyebrow and her most deadpan look. What was it Bolo said to Shantae that one time? "You're your own worst critic?" She was certain it wasn't meant to be applied like this, but she was definitely feeling critical of her other self right now.

"...hey, I wasn't saying it wouldn't be stupid, I was just saying I might do it!" The other Rottytops defended herself, then, after a few more moments of being beset by her judgement, sighed. "Honestly, how come you're the only one of us who has their shit together, anyway? And I'm including the adult-adults on this one, not just us young adults, because Lich Baron and Rotty Rotten absolutely do not have their shit together."

Cadaver snorted. "I think my party's druid would disagree with you on that front, but, in short? You'd be surprised how many problems a hammer solves."

The other Rottytops looked at the hammer in question longingly, then sighed, slumping over. "Man..."

She shook her head, despondent, then perked up without any warning. "So! Onto other topics - how about you and your Shantae, eh? You got some kind of relationship going on?"

Now Cadaver felt her own blush forming. "Ah...it'd be nice, but no, not really. She's a little shy around me, so I figure it's best to take things easy before I actually make a move. I don't want to scare her off, you know?"

"...mhm," The other Rottytops slowly turned her head in a mirror of how Cadaver had done so moments earlier, and suddenly she had flashbacks to when she asked Sky about why Shantae was so shy around her. And also felt incredibly judged, for some reason. "Say, out of curiosity, when did this shyness start?"

"Oh, that?" Cadaver thought for a moment, tilting her head. "I took a blow from a Naga for her in a temple - Shantae had been running ragged from going through all the traps in the place, so she didn't quite react to the thing as fast as she usually did, and I stepped in. Took my arm off, but I returned the favor and then some right afterwards. Still remember how awestruck she looked, back then...she'd been a little wary of me sticking around the party before then, but after that? She was happy to include me, albeit with a bit of an issue approaching. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason. Just got an actual answer to my question from earlier," The other Rottytops nodded sagely.

"What?" Cadaver squinted, looking at her other self in confusion.

"Balance of the universe. Balance of the universe is what's going on with you," With approximately zero elaboration, the other Rottytops started walking away. "Gonna go do a few stretches before we head out. Nice talking with you!"

"Wait, what? What are you..." Cadaver blinked, trying to decipher what the hell that meant, before something clicked in her head. "Wait. Do you know why my Shantae's so shy with me?"

"Yup!" The other Rottytops turned her head, giving Cadaver a view of the shit-eating grin that she now had. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out! You'll just want to bash your head into a wall afterwards!"

"What?" Cadaver squinted, trying to make sense of her other self, but all she got in response was a resounding cackle as the other Rottytops walked away. She still waited to see if there was going to be an actual answer, but after a few moments, she sighed and turned away. At least she got more out of that than she did with Sky. Still, though - you'll figure it out? It couldn't be that obvious, could it? She was so certain there was some sort of complex reasoning behind Shantae's shyness, it couldn't be that simple. Like, say, if Shantae was attracted to her, she'd be able to recognize that for what it was, right?

...

...Oh.

OH.

Her alternate self was right. She did want to bash her head into a wall.

This April Fool's fic will be continued...next week!

#shantae #rottytops #fic #april fools #reversal au #watch quest #“wait what's with those last two tags” hehehehehehe

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halloweenhoneylover · 2 years

Text

running the red

summary: prequel to slow going. there’s a party in a house in the suburbs on a chilly night in march. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

word count: 4.1k

warnings: some fluff, mostly angst, listen to bags by clairo while reading for real pain

author's note: reposted bc it wasn't showing up in the tag so fingers crossed. also both parts can be read independently or not.

Somebody with a big house had parents that were out of town.

You usually liked parties. You liked the music, the dancing, and as long as you brought your own alcohol, the drinks weren’t bad. There was something exhilarating about being a young person at a party, feeling like you were doing something right finally. Something was off tonight though, and you found yourself struggling to have a good time.

You knew why. Earlier in the evening, you had been fine, sitting at your vanity smudging on eyeliner and chatting mindlessly with Robin who was close to burning herself on your curling iron. Finally, she flew too close to the sun, and you heard her hiss behind you. “Shit.” You heard her trot to your bathroom, turn on the faucet, and splash water on her burn. “How do you not injure yourself with this every time you use it?” she called.

“I don’t know, might just be you, man. Wouldn’t say that dexterity is your strong suit.” You wielded the mascara wand masterfully, blinking it onto a curled lash.

She returned to your room. “You just make it look so easy.”

“Not everyone can play with the pros, baby girl.”

Collapsing onto the floor with a grimace, she pointed to the table in front of you. “Can you pass me the blush?”

Absentmindedly, you tossed it to her which she fumbled helplessly onto the ground. “Zero for two, Jesus Christ.”

From behind you, there was a knock. “What’s up, ladies?”

You turned to see a grinning Steve leaning on the doorframe of your bedroom.

Robin put the blush down momentarily. “You know, I don’t love it when you greet us like we're some of the poor girls you prey on at work.”

His face screwed up in disgust. “Please don’t frame me as a predator. I don’t need that kinda baggage.”

You looked sympathetic. “It must hamper your really incredible game.”

His jaw dropped in betrayal. “Don’t team up on me here!”

You turned to Robin with faux disbelief and tutted disapprovingly. “I can’t believe that Steve is actively opposed to female solidarity.”

She shook her head. “And to think he calls himself a feminist ally.”

“I am!” he spluttered indignantly. “Don’t spin my words against me, you guys are the worst.” You extended a hand to Robin which she high-fived while Steve grumbled under his breath. “Why do I drive you guys anywhere?”

You turned back to the mirror to finish up your mascara. “Because we’re your good friends, and you care for us deeply.”

Behind you, Steve gazed at you with an intensity he couldn’t comprehend while something in his chest itched uncomfortably. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Robin making a heart shape out of her hands and pouting her lips in a caricature of fake kisses. He shook his head at her with pinched brows like he didn’t understand, and she narrowed her eyes at him because obviously, he did. From his place at the doorway, he kicked out a foot to gently rock her backwards, and she slapped his foot away aggressively.

“You guys aren’t even speaking, how does it always devolve into physical altercations?” You twisted the cap on your mascara and fluffed up your hair.

“Because sometimes a slap upside the head is the only way to get a point through his thick skull,” Robin retorted.

“Robin, I told you I’m self-conscious about how big my head is, why would you say that?”

“It’s a saying, dingus! It doesn’t actually describe the circumference of your head, oh my god.” She stood and placed the blush on the vanity next to you. “I have to pee.” Then, she stormed out.

You got up from your seat to stand in front of Steve with an oddly serious look on your face. He was about to ask you what you were doing when you grabbed his head, and his eyes widened, but you just tilted it around, inspecting with furrowed brows. You shook your head. “Nope, seems pretty normal-sized to me.”

Steve just grinned down at you.

—

Somehow, you got shafted in Nose Goes and forced into the backseat. You hated the backseat. It always felt like you were a child being driven around by your parents, and you always found yourself hauling yourself in between the front seats to participate in the conversation.

Squished between the seats and arm propped on the center console, you rested your chin on your palm. “Whose house are we going to again?”

“Cindy M’s.”

“How do we know Cindy M?”

“I’ve been on a couple dates with her recently.”

“Dates plural?” Robin asked incredulously.

“Yes, dates plural.” He shot her a disapproving look. “I don’t know it’s been going pretty well.”

You stared at the radio, glowing in the dark of the car. Suddenly, you were burdened with the task of Acting Normal despite very unforgiving circumstances: going to the house of a girl who your best friend was seeing with said best friend who you were harboring immense, sticky feelings for. Your eyes were wide, begging for help while you stared at Robin who also felt incredibly panicked.

Your mental telepathy was well-honed, so she received the message beamed through your expression. Did you know?

To which she responded with a silent Of course I didn’t!!!

And then, you failed your Acting Normal challenge and slouched into the backseat, and to cover up your fatal mistake, you piped up from the back, “Will we get to meet this special lady tonight?”

Somehow missing the incredible mental communication happening beside him, Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe. She’s hosting, so she might be busy.”

Oh my god, he’s embarrassed of us, you thought to yourself. You stretched out in the backseat to maybe die. As if this could get any worse.

—

It could get worse. The party was fine, nothing special, but contrary to Steve’s earlier prediction, you did get to meet Cindy M, and she was perfectly nice and pretty and interesting.

It was horrible.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even hate her, that in another life, if she wasn’t courting your crush, you might actually be friends. Robin watched in horror as you chatted with Cindy lightheartedly enough, even cracking a couple jokes now and then, and she saw the hope drain from your eyes.

Steve appeared from around a corner with two red solo cups in his hand, one of which he handed to Cindy. She grabbed it and smiled up at him, and when she said thanks!, you could see her perfect, shiny, white teeth flashing, and somehow that was the thing that pushed you over the edge.

Ducking your face into your cup, you disguised the disappointment flooding your features. You cleared your throat, trying to swallow down the lump that had formed there before looking up with a bright smile of your own. “I think I might also need a refill.”

“Me too,” Robin added quickly.

Steve tore his eyes away from the pretty girl in front of him to look at you both. “Do you guys want me to get them?”

“No, we’re good! You keep her company.” You flashed a smile at Cindy who smiled back at you, and when you couldn’t wish her the worst, you ducked into the mass of people to somehow find your way to the kitchen. Robin trailed close behind you, almost falling into people as she tried to keep pace with you. By the time you emerged into the relative clearing that was the kitchen, Robin was panting.

“Your uncanny ability to maneuver through large masses of people is something I will never be able to understand.”

“Oh my god, Robin, she’s so nice.” Completely ignoring Robin’s previous statement, you crossed your arms on the kitchen island and rested your head on them. She laid a wary hand on your shoulder and tried to think of something comforting.

“Maybe she’ll, like, get hit by a car or something.”

You lifted your head to glare at her. “Do you know how bad it is, Robin? It’s so bad that I don’t even wish great misfortune upon her. So don’t say shit like that.” Your head was placed back on your arms.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But maybe Steve doesn’t even like her that much.”

“He’s gone on dates, Robin! Plural! I’m fucking screwed!”

Finally relenting her crusade of optimism, she admitted, “Yeah, it really sucks.” She observed you in your position of misery against the counter. “Do you wanna go home?”

“We have no way of getting there.”

“I don’t know, I’ll call…Keith.”

That brought you out of your distressed state of collapse. “You would call Keith for me?”

She shrugged a little with the ghost of a smile. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Maybe you were a little tipsy because you weren’t a very touchy person regularly, but you launched yourself at her into a hug. “Thank you.” It came out muffled against her jacket. You removed yourself from her, and when you saw the interminable sympathy in her eyes, you sighed. “I very much appreciate the gesture, but neither one of us should get in a car with Keith ever, I think? And I think I’ll survive. It’s a party! I can have fun.”

“You sound really convincing.”

“I can have fun.” The sight of a familiar bottle in your peripheral vision caught your eye, so you grabbed it and held it up in victory. “We’re doing tequila shots.”

Robin eyed the bottle warily. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Grabbing the shot glasses and filling them, you reassure her, “This’ll be fun. We’ll both take a shot and refill our drinks, so we’re drunk enough to have fun but not too drunk, so we’re still classy, and it’ll be great! Limes!” From somewhere on the counter, you found a bowl of pre-cut lime wedges. (Cindy was a really great host.) Grabbing the salt, you poured some on the back of both your hands.

“Ready?” You looked at Robin whose concern had faded but not disappeared entirely. Glancing at the shots and then back up at you, she shrugged.

“Oh, what the hell.” You cheered, and you both licked the salt off your hands, downed the shots, and sucked the lime wedges. Giggling, you stuck both of your hands up for a double high-five that Robin granted you readily.

“See? It’s fun, not sad!”

—

For a while, you were right. The party could be pretty fun, and you remembered why you liked them. The music, the dancing, the drinks. Having dragged Robin into the density of the living room to dance, you were now sweating profusely, and your quads were becoming sore from bent knees for hip swaying. Only when you felt some rando’s hand on your waist did you feel the need to remove yourself from the crowd with Robin following behind.

Emerging from the mass of people breathlessly, you bumped into someone on the outskirts of the living room, and you began to apologize profusely when you looked up to see a familiar face. “Hey, Vickie,” you cheered pointedly.

“Vickie!” Robin echoed with eyebrows raised and a tripping heart. “Hi—uh—how are you?”

Ginger hair curling at her sharp jaw, she gave a toothy grin. “Hey, guys! Fancy running into you here!”

“Crazy coincidence, I know!” you replied, tone stilted. “You know, I hate to do this, but I need to go refill my drink, but luckily, Robin here can keep you company!” You stared at your friends intensely with eyes that read This is a golden opportunity, and legally, you have to take it.

The message must have been conveyed because Robin was giving you a thumbs up, and you were thrust back into the labyrinth of people that made up the hallway. Ducking around kissing couples and conversations, you found the back door that led out onto a patio, but it was filled with people playing pong, so you redirected into the entry foyer which was relatively unpopulated. Needing a quiet space to catch your breath for a couple minutes, you thought about going upstairs but then figured that you were more likely to encounter horny young people and their accompanying noises than peace and quiet. For a moment, your mind drifted to Steve and Cindy M, and you wondered if they had gone upstairs. Your stomach twisted, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the thought of them or the alcohol, so you decided you needed some fresh air and stepped out the front door.

It was March, and March in Indiana is fickle. However, today was decidedly a recollection of the winter that had only just faded a couple weeks ago, but the cold was a welcome refuge from the overwhelming heat of young adult bodies pressed together. Almost as soon as you stumbled off the porch step, a gust of wind bit at your nose, and a crop of goosebumps prickled over your arms. Shivering, you thought back to the moment you had left your house.

“You’re stupid if you’re leaving without a jacket,” Steve chided from the doorway and the warmth of his own jacket. Halfway over your front lawn to his car, you turned to grin at him.

“We’re never gonna be outside for long. The walk from your car to the house and back! I’ll be fine, mom.”

Knowing you wouldn’t be going back in the house despite his protests, he shut the door behind him, sauntering onto your stoop. “You say that now, but when we’re walking out, you’re gonna whine, and I’m gonna have to give you my jacket, and then I’m gonna be cold, and that’s not fair to me.”

“I’m not gonna whine!” you protested.

“I know you, [Y/N/N]. You’re the biggest whiner of them all.” He had finally caught up to you in your yard and knocked you with his shoulder as he teased.

“Okay, then just don’t give me your jacket if you’re gonna be a baby about it.” Together, you trudged towards his car, your arms wrapped around yourself to protect you from the chill. He noticed this and gave you a knowing look.

Rounding the front of the car to get to the driver’s side, he retorted, “I’m not the baby in this situation.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile pulling at your lips. “Whatever you say, Harrington.

You never liked admitting that he knew better, but you had to give him his due as you clutched yourself in Cindy M’s front yard. It was deserted, a few solo cups abandoned in the grass, but at this point, it was just you and the line of cars in the driveway. A wobble in your knee suggested that perhaps sitting was your best option at the moment, so you stumbled to the curb at the end of the lawn and heaved yourself onto the ground. Scuffing your shoe against the fine gravel that had collected where the road met the curb, you tried to think about anything but Steve to no avail. You hugged your knees to your chest and sighed with steely regret pumping through your veins. At least Cindy lived at the end of a dead end, so there were no cars and hopefully no neighbors to witness your pity party.

“What happened to not leaving the premises of the party?”

Steve’ familiar voice called out behind you, the smile evident in his voice, but you could hear the grass rustling like he was trotting over to you, so you didn’t turn. Instead, you hunched your shoulders further and pressed your shins closer.

You waited until he arrived next to you, so you wouldn’t have to raise your voice. “What are you talking about?”

Settling beside you, he splayed his legs out and fiddled with his empty cup. “I know how you like to hide away in some secluded part of the party that you think only you can find, but you’re not as sneaky as you think.” You turned your head to look at him. He jutted his chin out, watching the stillness of the night in front of you like he was on guard from something hiding just out of sight. Gazing at him with discerning eyes, you mourned, thinking that nobody ever gave him credit for how observant he was. It was rather tragic that Steve Harrington was convinced he was stupid when he really wasn’t.

“I didn’t think anybody ever noticed I was gone.”

“I do.” His head swiveled to look down at you, and you shifted your gaze away, unable to meet his eyes. He wondered why you wouldn’t look at him. “I notice.” For a moment, it was so quiet that all that could be heard was the rustling of the wind in the trees, but Steve didn’t often care much for silence. “Besides, you’re always gone for huge chunks of time.”

“I’m only ever gone for, like, twenty minutes at most.”

“That’s a long time.” He tucked his chin to his chest when he was finally convinced you wouldn’t look at him. “‘S a long time without you, [Y/N/N].” But that feels too sticky, too touchy-feely, so he stumbled out new words to cover the old ones. “Always get worried about you, think something’s happened to you. There’s some jerky guys in this town, and I wanna make sure you’re safe, so I always find you and make sure you’re good.”

“You haven’t ever said anything about it before.” You crossed your arms over your knees and rested your chin there, trying to see what he sees in the shadows.

“I have, though.”

For the first time since he came out, you met his eyes, and you looked confused. “I don’t remember that.”

When he chuckled, you could see the wispy steam churning from his hot breath. “I bet you don’t. You were pretty gone that night, and when I went to go check on you, you were sitting in a tree twenty yards into the woods behind Andrew Clark’s house chatting with yourself.”

You looked mortified, squeezing your eyes shut, and Steve laughed. “You’re joking.”

He leaned to bump you with his shoulder, and it was like his laughter was contagious because at his touch, you devolved into embarrassed giggles. “No, I’m not. There was some singing too. Did you know you’re a real Whitney Houston when you’re drunk?”

“Oh god.”

“Honestly, it was the only way I found you that night. Heard Saving All My Love for You echoing through the trees.” He grinned at you as you buried your face in your shoulder. “But we got you down without breaking any legs, and I told you that you could still have your alone time at parties as long as you remained on the premises, so I wouldn’t have to come fishing you out of trees.”

Looking back to the house and then back at him, you said, “I think I’m still technically on the premises right now.”

He tutted at you disapprovingly before slapping the curb with his hand. “See where you’re sitting right now? Who d’you think paved it? The Millers? Nah, the city did. So, I think that means technically, you’re on the mean streets of Hawkins alone at night.”

You gestured to the still suburbia in front of you. “Seems super dangerous to me.”

He looked back into the darkness with a small smile and something serious staining his gaze. “You never know.”

A particularly strong gust of wind breezed around you, and you slid your hands up and down your arms, trying to create friction. Rolling his eyes beside you, Steve began to shoulder off his jacket. “What did I tell you about bringing a coat?”

“Steve, really, you don’t have—” But he was as stubborn as you, pulling the jacket over your bare arms despite your protests. Not willing to contest it once it was on because its heat was undeniable and necessary (and it smelled like his cologne), you tugged it on tighter, grumbling a quiet thanks.

“Why’d you come out here?” His question felt sharp against your sternum and maybe he could see the trepidation on your face because he continued, “Just that it’s so cold, and I’m sure there were plenty of good hiding spots upstairs.”

You decided to be honest. “Too many horny people upstairs.”

That kicked a laugh out of him. “Suppose that’s true.”

“Like the cold too.”

He scoffed at that. “What, you like to suffer?” And sitting next to him, you think, yeah, I do.

Maybe that’s the realization that pushed you into action because something deep in you ached, and the soft part of you was crying, begging to stop suffering. Or at least, to suffer in a different way, to suffer with the glory of truth. Once it occurred to you, it bubbled up endlessly into your throat, and you had to stop yourself from vomiting out all your feelings at once.

“Steve, I have to tell you something.”

As if he could tell everything in you had sobered up, he straightened his back and with a soft gaze, answered, “Okay.”

“It’s big and scary, though.” Your eyes were big and round and shiny as they looked up at him, and it was unnerving for him. You tended to be opaque, hard to read on purpose, but now, he could look in your eyes and see your fear plainly.

He nodded, trying to reassure you. His eyebrows pinched together in concern. “Okay.”

Looking at the ground because you could no longer look at him, you whispered. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “What’d you say? I couldn’t hear.”

“Um,” you gulp hastily, trying to reorient yourself so you wouldn’t come out guns ablazing. “I don’t know if you could tell, but when we first met, I hated you.” He laughed at that, and it egged you on. “Um yeah, I thought you were the worst. ‘Cuz in school, you were the worst. But then we started talking, and I realized you weren’t the same guy, and I actually really liked talking to you. You made me laugh, you were nice.” Something in your chest gave out, maybe it knew you were getting to the hard part. “And—”cough”—and I don’t know when it happened, my heart started to beat really fast whenever you were around, and I’d start to freak out because I wouldn’t know what to say to you, and that had never happened before.”

The pieces of the puzzle were fitting together in Steve’s mind, and something pleasant and curly commingled with dread in his stomach.

“I can’t really explain it, Steve, but I like you. A lot.” Your big moony eyes shined up at him again, and Steve saw a different ‘l’ word there. “And I know I really shouldn’t say this to you while we’re at the house of the girl you’re dating, but I was gonna literally throw up if I didn’t say anything, and I don’t expect you to, like, drop her and sweep me off my feet or anything.” Your voice shrunk, thin and barely audible with the weight of your heart. “ I just figured if anyone could let me down easy, it’d be you.”

The rustling of leaves in the trees. The hush of the grass in the wind. He looked at you with an unfathomable expression, and the deep brown of his eyes flicked rapidly as he searched your face. You didn’t know what he was looking for.

You didn’t want to rush him by any means, but you were sitting there with your heart in your hands, beating, bleeding, and it was awfully hard to breathe.

“Steve,” you begged. “Could you please say something?” A rough swallow. “Anything?”

It felt momentous. Earth-shaking, even. The ground beneath Steve was rolling, and he had no idea what to do. Inside the house, there was a pretty girl waiting for him, and it would be safe and easy to go back in there and kiss her and try to love her. Out here on the edge of the world with you, he could fall off the precipice at any second, and it would hurt worse than anything that could happen inside that stupid house, and Steve couldn’t help but think that you were right. It was big and scary.

His chest rose and fell with big breaths, and he still hadn’t looked away. The soft part of him was yelling at him too.

He didn’t feel entirely in control of himself as he stood wordlessly. He wished you would close your fucking eyes. They were cavernous and sad, and tears were seeping at the corners. He turned his head away because he couldn’t look anymore. Especially as he turned and walked back up to the house.

read slow going here.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #stranger things

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