#how did i forget static is an electricity thing?

[mayashesfly]

Picture

CLICK

The sound of a shutter going off before the sound of electricity sparking a hiss of pain reached Alastor's ears.

"OW! Fu-zzt-CK!!"

Alastor contorted his head to stare at the whining box-headed, grinning sharply as his eyes squinted in question. "Vox. What do you think you're doing, my dear friend?"

Spots of static filled his friend's screen where his cheeks would've been as he looked up at him in embarrassment, the video camera that was once in his hand clattered to the floor, forming a crack on its top.

Alastor melded into the shadows before popping out in front of Vox, smiling as he studied the scuffed camera in his hand. "You know this face was made for radio" He tuts, shaking his head. Before applying a bandage on the formed crack.

It didn't do anything to actually repair the silly thing. But Alastor found the thought humorous considering that the bandage did nothing for the wound.

Vox's shoulders slumped as the static spread in his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. A nervous habit he formed in hell on top of easing the ache his large head makes on his neck. "I-I know... I'm sorry.... I just wanted to take a picture of you! You know, to remember the good times..." He said, his eyes refusing to meet his as Alastor considers his words.

"Now why would you want to do such a thing, pal?" He asks, giving Vox his silly camera back before he summoned his own cane, spinning it around in his hand before propping it on the floor as he leans and tilts his head. "It's not like these good times of ours would be so fleeting! There's no need to have such silly things lying about now, wouldn't it?"

He pinches Vox's cheeks at his words. Adoring the way his eyes land back on him as he smiles softly.

A small pout formed on his screen before he carefully pushes Alastor's hand aside, rolling his eyes after the camera disappeared with a sparkle of electricity. "You know that sometimes we're busy. We can't always schedule our regular hangouts together when you sometimes have another Overlord to overthrow or a deal to make while I'm making new technology to sell on top of my broadcasts"

"But we still make time"

His gaze falls down on the floor again as he firmly grips Alastor's hand, lips turning into a downward line. Mumbling something under his breath.

For once, Alastor blinked. "What was that?"

"I-... I just– .....i don't want to forget about you"

Ah.

So that's where the problem lies.

"My dear Vox, I doubt you'll ever forget about me. I'm quite remarkable after all!"

He felt Vox's hand guide his to rest on his cheek, feeling the ambient static he always felt when he touched Vox's screen.

He does nothing to stop it.

His cane disappearing as he has no reason to have it.

"You know I... forgot about a few things in my past life" Vox started off with, a buzz entering his tone as it did whenever he talked about his life when he was alive.

It was a sore topic. One Alastor deigned not to poke at.

Whilst Alastor went to Hell remembering all of his life and how he died, allowing him to quickly pull himself together to gather more power for himself, Vox had forgotten parts of his life. And in some cases, despite having died at a similar age as Alastor, acted more... child-like than what Alastor would've expected.

But from what Alastor had gathered, Vox was rather the norm instead of the exception.

Unlike him.

And really, he's not surprised when he knew why.

Alastor felt himself sighing as he looked into Vox's pleading eyes. "You're not going to drop this, are you?"

Finally, Vox cracked him a smile. "Depends... Did I convince you?"

"No. M-maybe..." Now it was Alastor's turn to look away as his voice cracked and his cheeks tinted red.

Vox laughed as he thrown his head back. Joyful giggling filling the air as Alastor stared at him in astonishment.

"Hahaha! Would you look at that! The Radio Demon himself is speechless!!" Vox snorts as he shook his head. Shoulders still shaking from his giggles as Alastor forces himself to grimace.

"I will rip you limb from limb if you don't stop now"

"I will! I will! Geez, I'm sorry you sourpuss" Vox leaned his head back, his hand combing through his antennas before they bounced off harmlessly.

A nervous habit he still retained when he was alive.

When he finally calmed down enough, he was beaming at Alastor with that bright smile of his. Eyes crinkling in delight as he held out his hand for him to take. "So... Are you up for a picture?"

Alastor scoffed, rolling his eyes away as his hand takes the offer. "I suppose so. There's no harm in it, after all"

If Alastor thought Vox couldn't become brighter, he was mistaken. As Vox looked over the moon as he held Alastor's hand. Pumping his other fist in the air in joy as he shouted. "YES!"

He smiled softly at the other's enthusiasm.

Perhaps having a picture taken wouldn't be so bad after all if he could see him like this all of the time.

Alastor set up a camera of his own. Nothing like the one Vox had attempted to use on him but rather one that was more classy and in style for the Radio Demon's taste.

"That camera looks so tacky" Vox comments, grimacing lightly before Alastor waved his hand.

"Nonesense! This camera is practically state-of-the-art! Nothing less for gentlemen such as ourselves"

Alastor hears him snort at his words. Already imagining the eyeroll he received from the other media demon. "Right... If that's what you want to believe, you old timey prick"

Content with Vox's comments. Alastor hums along to a song as he readies the camera. Waving over his shadow to take the picture as Vox stomped his feet in tune to the music he was humming.

His shadow, or Bee, chirped in delight at the thought of taking a picture of Vox. He reminded it that it was a picture for both of them. And his shadow only chittered in acknowledgement as his eyes didn't focus on his creator.

Seriously, that shadow of his can be unbearable.

Once it was all settled, Alastor takes his spot in Vox's side as he smiled for the camera. Willing his powers not to corrupt the silly old thing as Vox beamed at the camera as well.

He felt himself relax in his place as he steals a glance at Vox. Their eyes meet for a moment before Alastor looks away.

He doesn't bother to comment when he feels the other lean towards him as the camera clicks.

Vox couldn't contain his excitement as he waits for the picture to develop. "Can't it go any faster?" He huffed in annoyance as he stares at the two blank pictures in Alastor's grasp.

"Now now, my dear friend. Patience is a virtue one must know to succeed!" He tuts lightly, tapping on Vox's screen where his nose would've been as static fills it yet again.

Regardless, Vox snorts. "Because we're obviously down in Hell for being virtuous"

Alastor rolled his eyes at that. "You know what I mean! And it still applies!"

Still, Alastor speeds up the process with a flourish of his fingers. The pictures developing rapidly before his voice gets caught in his throat.

He looks.... so happy.....

His eyes were half-lidded. Relaxed as his smile seemed soft and genuine.

Besides him, Vox was leaning towards him with a bright smile on his face. His face practically beaming despite being immortalized in picture.

As if he had accomplished something truly worthwhile.

Truly important.

Alastor felt his throat go dry as he felt Vox besides him slouch as well.

"Wow"

Wow indeed.

Ever so gently, he hands Vox's his copy as his fingers curled around the picture as if he cradling it. And wasn't that such an odd thought? Yet still, the picture didn't crumpled in his hands as he looked at Alastor with such awe in his eyes.

"Thank you"

Alastor couldn't look away from those eyes even if he wanted to as he held his own picture to his chest.

"I– I—.... It was no problem, Vox"

Vox merely smiled as he looked down at his own copy.

Before he put out one of his hands, electricity covering it completely before the camera from before appeared in his hand. Still bandaged from Alastor's silly efforts.

Alastor could only blink. "What's that?"

He could only ask despite knowing what it was.

Vox snickered, before putting the camera into Alastor's hand. "For safekeeping. Thought you might like it since you went through the effort to fix it"

Alastor could only scoff. "Sap. That was nothing"

Vox stared into his eyes yet again, a soft gaze gracing his skin as his cheeks felt warm. "Still, I want you to keep it"

"Keep it. This old broken thing?"

Vox only shrugged. "It probably still works. Think of it as something to remember this day by"

Alastor could only raise his brow. "The picture wasn't enough?"

Vox just smiled. "You can never be too safe or else you'll be sorry"

Alastor just sighed, shaking his head. Still, it warms his heart that he could have another piece of him with him. "You and your silly little memorabilia"

Vox just winked at him. "You know it" He says before leaning closer to the radio demon. "Can't be too sure that you won't remember me when you go out on one of your hunts"

He shudders at the sound as his eyes go half-closed. He can't argue with that.

"I suppose I should thank you"

"Thank you, Alastor"

"I will never forget you"

#may asher writes #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #radiostatic #staticradio #voxal #Forgotten Radio AU #technically #I may write Vox and Alastor's POV from this flashback in a later time

[nikkisheep]

I don't know how (Part 2)

Steve harrington x virgin fem. reader

Warnings: innocent kink, corruption kink, handjob, innocent reader, virgin reader, best friend Steve, dirty talk, oral (m)

Tags: @daddymando69

Summary: After the last lesson with Steve, you decide that you wanted to know more. But this time, how to make a guy feel good.

Touching one's self is a pleasure. Not only does it feel good but it helps you explore your own body without eyes on you. Never did you think of all the pleasure you could feel just by touching in between your legs. Since the day you explored yourself for the first time, you have felt constant pleasure. You crave it. You need it.

It's been days since you had done that act with Steve and you remember feeling a bulge in his pants and you wanted to know more about it. You were going over to Steve's party tomorrow and that's when you decided that you were going to ask. You were just simply curious. And you were drawn to Steve like a moth to a flame. Begging to feel the heat just slightly before you burn to ash from the flame.

You showered three times since the afternoon and you were very excited but doubt started flooding your mind, drowning all confidence you once had. Practicing your make-up and modeling what you were going to wear, you blast Madonna.

Showering once again, you shave, moistorise everything that needs to be. You decide to wear your hair as wavy curls and found the sluttiest dress you could find. It was a plunging V-neck and was red. Lipstick to match and a bit of black eyeliner, you were ready to go. Tugging on your red heels, you leave for the party.

Upon arriving, you notice there is no one in the driveway. Maybe you arrived early. Anyone who passed up a chance to go to a Steve Harrington's party was either stupid or just stupid. Knocking on the door, there came no answer. Then the double doors open, revealing a smirking Steve Harrington.

"Hey baby," He smiled.

"Where is everyone?" You ask, making your way through the house.

"Well don't you clean up nicely."

"Steve, where's the party?"

"About that, there was no party."

"What?"

"There is no party. Never was going to be a party." He shrugged.

"Then why did you invite the whole town?"

"I didn't. I had Robin tell you that so you would come over and talk to me," He said as if you were supposed to already know that.

"Since you lied to me, Steve, you owe me a lesson."

"Wha-"

"You owe me a lession. You said you would teach me and what better time then now," I told him.

"Now hang on, baby, you sure you want another lession?"

"Stop calling me baby and fucking teach me how to take care of a man," I demand.

"But these lessons are about you learning-"

"Yes, me learning and I think I could do a lot more learning if I had a more hands-on kind of thing."

Steve shakes his head in disbelief that this was his best friend talking. He never knew what he was getting himself into but he wants to continue. To run her innocence, to corrupt her.

You lead the way to the bedroom and Steve was following behind you like a lost puppy. Looking behind you, seeing Steve ready to pounce on your body was arousing enough.

Walking into the room, you turn to him and see his hair already a mess. You walk up to him and place your hands on his chest.

"Teach me, Stevie." Doe eyes looking into his own.

Lips parted, he places his hands onto your lower back. Electricity sparks, as if you touched water with a static charge. His warm breath fans across your face. You wanted to kiss him but if you did, will you ever pull away. We started walking backwards to the bed and you laid him down. Hands wandering each other's body, mapping everything to memory. Never wanting to forget.

"Take off your shirt, please." You tell him.

"Oh baby, you are so sweet for asking." He takes it off, arms flexing in the motion.

Pushing on his chest, you lean down and lick a strip up his neck. His skin tasted salty but sweet. You were already addicted.

"Okay, so you want to know how to pleasure a man?"

"Yes, please."

"Oh god, princess, you sound so innocent. Begging me to teach you how to touch a man. Naughty girl," He groans.

"I'm not naughty," You protest.

"That's right, you are my sweet innocent best friend." He coos.

Nodding your head, he shifts you in between his legs.

"Now, kissing the waist helps stimulate the nerves and leaves him begging for more," Steve says.

Leaning down, your soft, pink lips brush against his hip bones. His hips jut up and you press down on his crotch, not meaning to of course. He lets out a low moan.

"Stevie?''

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Can I touch you?"

Oh how your voice was laced with thick lust but still sounded heavenly. Your words and actions were sinful but you looked like an angel begging for forgiveness. How could Steve deny his innocent best friend when she was begging to touch him? He just couldn't.

"Pull down my pants and blow lightly onto my dick."

Once you had gotten him out of his pants, you stare at his crotch. Red and leaking, it looked like it was weeping to be touched, to be sucked.

"Spit on your hand," He says.

A glob of spit falls from your sinful mouth. You catch it in your mouth and place it on his cock.

"Move your hand up and down, steadily."

Pumbing your hand, Steve moans at the feeling.

"S-So good."

Pumping harder and faster, you add a twist at the top. When Steve bucked into your hand with a moan of how good you were doing, you gasped at the sensation of wetness collecting in your pink panties. Oh how innocent and easy to corrupt you were.

"Look at you, touching your best friend and being turned on by it." A moan from you.

"Just wanted to make you feel good Stevie."

"And you are. Making me feel so good. Fuck, so good. Making me want to cum on your pretty face huh." Another moan.

"Fuck yeah, you like that. Want me to ruin that pretty face, paint you white with my fucking babies?" He groaned, getting closer to his orgasm.

"Not my face, Stevie."

"Of course not, baby. Maybe on those tits. Paint you real pretty, take a picture?" You moaned at the feeling of his pre-cum leaking onto your hand.

"No, I want to cum in your mouth. Claim that virgin mouth before anyone else. Such a slut for your best friend," He moaned, mind to far gone to realize what he was saying.

You wanted to see what he meant so you placed your mouth onto the tip and sucked softly. Steve swore he felt his soul leaving his body. Once you got a taste, you didn't want to let go. You started sucking harder and taking more into your mouth. Gagging when he hit the back of your mouth, gaining a hiss from Steve who looked like he was trying so hard to not take you right then.

"Fuck, going to make me cum in that hot mouth. Fuck you feel so good. Wonder what that pussy feels like because I don't think this can get any-any better," He chokes out.

"Cum for me Steve," You say, going back down on him. Cock hitting the back of your throat, you swallow his down. You look up him and that's all it takes before he floods your mouth. There is so much of him that his cum starts dribbling out of your mouth and sliding down his dick.

You pull of him and he lets out a breath. He tasted so good. And smelt good too.

"Are you sure you have never done this before?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, no I haven't?"

"Goddamn you are amazing. So good for me, baby."

"Oh stop, Steve. If I was that good, then why were you saying all those things?"

"Because it's true. You are horny for me, you crave me."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x virgin reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader smut

[twothpaste]

some PSI headcanons

Ness' PSI developed from a very young age, but never grew powerful enough to do anything particularly impressive 'til he went on his journey. A little bit of clumsy wimpy telekinesis, usually dropping stuff in the process. Mending small cuts & scrapes. Talkin' to dogs. Nothing too flashy, almost mundane even. His efforts to practice or show off usually ended in goofish blunders, or incredulity from others. While his best bud Porky flip-flopped between jealousy and dismissal. So Ness grew up feeling sort of insecure about his abilities. Meeting Paula & Poo was kind of a game changer for him, realizing he really wasn't a lone psychic weirdo.

Paula was well-known for her PSI in Twoson. Practically Ness' opposite, she was a natural child prodigy. Loved to show off her abilities like party tricks, much to the delight and amazement of her community. Her mother encouraged it, kinda parading her around (vicariously soaking up the praise & awe). She's never been ashamed of her powers, but did grow to feel misunderstood & a little taken advantage of when she realized most folks (her mother included) just saw them as a novelty. Her visions of Ness are actually a rare precognitive ability. However, Paula can't exactly provoke visions on command, and can't tell whether or not the futures she sees are set in stone. Since she's got so much proud finesse over her offensive PSI, having little control over her precognition actually frustrates her to no end. Meeting Ness & Poo humbles her, and comes as a huge relief when she finally has fellow psychics in her life who really get it.

Poo's trained with fellow psychics all his life, but was taught only to use his powers under formal discipline. When he meets a little fat kid who telekinetically juggles chicken wings, and a snarky girl who uses PK Thunder for static electricity pranks, he's kind of blown away. The freedom granted by using his powers loosely & Teleporting around the globe cannot be understated. Dude lowkey develops a bit of a rebellious streak, finding crafty ways to employ PSI for fun. He can definitely read minds, which probably unnerves his friends at first. I like to imagine he can't learn PK Fire 'cause it embodies a sort of brazen fury that just isn't present in Poo's character - whereas Thunder and Freeze are more focused and composed.

Lucas n' Claus had latent psychic abilities from birth - but contrasted with Ness' flashback where he was using telekinesis as a baby, I get the impression they were comparatively late bloomers. Maybe due to their hometown upbringing; Tazmily's defined at its core by such a profoundly repressed peace, after all… They could communicate with animals, and assumed everyone else could too (adults lackadaisically humored their babbles about whatever Boney was sayin'). They had a strong telepathic link with each other, and assumed that was just a normal twin thing. It's interesting how trauma, urgency, and an implied survival instinct is what "awakens" their true potential. I could probably make a whole post about that alone, oh no, I'll go on instead.

Since he didn't grow up actively using PSI, Lucas tends to forget he has it, and often overlooks or forgoes its practical applications. He rarely uses telekinesis, he cleans & bandages wounds before recalling he can use Lifeup, he doesn't often consciously employ his empathic abilities. Said empathic abilities are extremely potent, though. Kid picks up on everybody's feelings all the time, and can never quite tell if it's a psychic thing or his anxiety or just his natural compassion for others. He can't actually read the minds of strangers though - the mere possibility is deeply unnerving to him. He can passively hear Claus' thoughts (or ominous lack thereof 😶). And he's at least sorta sensitive to the thoughts of other folks he's grown dearly close to (Kuma, Duster, Flint post-reconciliation, etc).

The Masked Man's powerful PSI is all just tightly-channeled fear and rage and love and despair, so warped beyond recognition that neither he nor his handlers can correctly identify it. Fassad trained him through dubiously brutal methods, forcing him to inflict pain, conditioning his subconscious mind to relish what little power it could wield over its surroundings. My post-canon Claus goes through a long phase where he swears off PSI, afraid of its potential, convinced he doesn't deserve it. Only for it to re-emerge from his fingertips anyways in moments of stress or concern (oops, sorry little dude, it is a fundamental part of who you are). Once Lucas n' Kuma show him how to use it in a healthy way, Claus does a 180, eager to reclaim it. He's got all of the same abilities as Lucas (including Lifeup & Shields, which'd been thoroughly repressed along with the rest of his compassion, before). His empathic capacity is literally the same too - but since Claus ain't nearly as emotionally intelligent as his brother, and his head's usually rattling with his own mess of feelings, he can't often make much sense of other peoples'. It kinda just forms a layer of background noise, which he tends to tune out. As his disabilities progress with age, he grows more comfortable relying on telekinesis.

Kumatora's such a natural psychic, she was literally having telekinetic fire-breathing tantrums as an infant. Which is the main reason why the Tazmilians passed her onto the Magifolk, knowing they'd be able to raise her better than a bunch o' amnesiac bumpkins ever could. Though not exactly structured or formal, her training was baked into her upbringing. Thus, PSI's baked into her everyday lifestyle. It's hard for Kuma not to use her powers casually, to fetch writing utensils from across the room, or heat her tea with PK Fire, or overhear your thoughts and respond to them aloud. (Probably a hilarious challenge when she was posing as Violet). She was the only human psychic she'd ever known, right up until Lucas rolled up packing new powers he was mildly to severely frightened of. It's only thanks to Kuma that he learned how to handle himself with care and confidence. And only thanks to Kuma that the postgame world's got any proper knowledge about PSI. I like to imagine she offers tutelage to any new psychics that may emerge. The one person who's left to bear PSI's history and proper training methods, carrying on a tradition passed down by her guardians…

I headcanon all psychics have telekinesis, but some are better or worse at it than others. And they all have some degree of telepathy, though very few are focused & skilled enough to straight up read minds. Communicating with animals falls somewhere relatively low along the same scale. They can learn techniques from each other (a la the adorable explanation given for Ness & Lucas' Smash Bros movesets) - but it takes a long period of dedicated one-on-one teaching, hence why we don't see it happen during the fast-paced storylines of the Mother games. Though PSI is very uncommon, it isn't really hereditary, and can manifest in literally any rando. But it does appear more often in some locations / populations than others (ie. Dalaam as a place of longstanding psionic spiritual traditions, Nowhere as a blessed place sitting atop a draconic embodiment of the Earth's power, you get the idea 🤷‍♂️). I like to portray it more as a cerebral brain power than a 1-to-1 with fantasy magic. It does have a wishy-washy hippie sorta vibe to it though. Something that comes from a connection to Mother Earth, a way to channel emotions and love and the gift of life itself.

(I personally find M1's explanation for PSI's origin incompatible with the other two games, which both present a much more grounded, ancient, and Earthly take on it. Which is fine, since M2 plays out more like a reboot than a sequel anyways. But in an earnest effort to try and connect the threads, maybe PSI is simply a kind of power that exists within every planet? Thus, when George "steals" the secrets of PSI, he's learning how humans can unlock the powers granted by the Earth, the same way aliens presumably unlocked the powers of their homeworlds?? Who knows.)

#long #hi #2thtalks

[obi-wkenobi]

1/? Okay but 5+1 fic featuring 5 times Obi wan accidentally caught anakin in a compromising position/anakin + Obi wan were in a compromising position &one time he put anakin in a (com)promising Position 😏😏😏 idk man I’m just think of scenarios like Obiwan & anakin having to hide in a really tight space &anakin’s ass is presssd against Obiwan & force help him but anakin won’t stop wriggling or Obi wan catching anakin leaving a room butt naked: “I swear master! It’s not what you think!!”

aswdelncoijw *wails* anon!!!!! the noise i made when i found this in my inbox the other day was inhuman. this is chefs kiss, perfect, wonderful, magnificent, and exactly my type of thing. i’m more inclined to go with the second option, just because the idea of them actually being together and obi-wan’s control getting progressively less lax each time they find themselves in a compromising position makes my brain turn to static. the rising tension between them has me panting just !!!!! fuck. okay, here’s a thing:

“Dance, Anakin. Now,” Obi-Wan warns, shoving them further in amongst the press of bodies around them.

Obi-Wan rolls his hips, all slow rocking and easy thrusts that speaks of his senior Padawan years spent traversing the lower levels of Coruscant with Quinlan. His former Padawan on the other hand merely grimaces, shuffling his feet and rocking his hands from side to side, looking like a lost tooka amongst its predators.

“You’re going to get us caught,” Obi-Wan hisses, his voice harsh, having to pierce through the rhythmic thumping of the music.

Anakin glares at him, indignant. He sways harder and winces when an enthusiastic Twi’lek bumps into him. Obi-Wan forces himself to not roll his eyes, instead choosing to watch as the Iradu guards currently chasing them stand in the corner of the room. The dance floor is crammed and they shouldn’t be seen, except Anakin is as stiff as a protocol droid.

“Master,” Anakin whines, “why the kriff are we here?”

“Just dance, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snaps. “You do know how to dance, don’t you?”

He is aware that his voice is too severe, his demeanour too irritated, yet he can’t find it within himself to care. Not when sweat is already gathering under his shirt, dampening the line of his back and in between the crevices of his elbows and knees. Even worse is that he can smell Anakin, and he finds that he doesn’t dislike the dark scent.

“Master,” Anakin complains again, his face pinching in distress, clearly uncomfortable.

Obi-Wan gives him a look, a look that says do as I say, and watches as he attempts to move once again. He’s gangly. All elbows and knees and awkward feet, and Obi-Wan is reminded that for all of Anakin’s bravado and frequent arrogance, underneath them is a man who is mostly unsure. Sometimes Obi-Wan forgets that Anakin’s insecurities can be found in the oddest of places. He reins it in most of the time, especially when Obi-Wan himself is around, but here on this planet, shoulders hunched forward and dark eyes skittery, he looks incredibly self conscious.

The music continues to pulse and the lights continue to flicker, all crimson red, purple noir, and electric blue as a uniform of bodies roll and twist together. Anakin continues to shuffle; those insufferably tight trousers he’s wearing are undoubtedly not helping, the white mesh shirt revealing the embarrassed blush on his chest. Obi-Wan averts his gaze. This is probably good for Anakin, to get him out of his comfort zone and introduce him to missions that involve tact and don’t just include blasting his way to success.

Still, Obi-Wan consciously gentles his tone. “You took dance classes at the Temple, didn’t you? Just remember those lessons.”

Anakin scoffs. “They didn’t teach dancing like this,” he says defensively, voice strained.

Obi-Wan grits his teeth, forcing himself not to lash back. Force, but why did Anakin have to be such a brat?

“Like what?” he asks lowly, grinning as a new song starts, featuring a filthy bass that has him rolling his hips, slow and deep. 

“Like that—” Anakin growls, additional heat immediately rippling across his cheeks.

Obi-Wan curls amusement between them in the Force and peers at him in the dimness of the room, waiting for him to explain.

“Yes?” he prompts, smirking.

“Grinding,” Anakin spits out, gesturing towards Obi-Wan’s moving figure.

Obi-Wan laughs. “No, I suppose they didn’t.”

Anakin inhales, exhales, swallows thickly and looks anywhere but at Obi-Wan. He is perhaps enjoying Anakin’s unease a bit too much, but well, there is something extremely endearing about—

“Well I’m not doing it,” Anakin bites out, panic edging his voice.

Obi-Wan’s fondness is immediately replaced with vexation. He puffs out a frustrated breath and rolls his shoulders, annoyance twisting his mouth. How typical of Anakin, to snarl like an animal when placed in a situation he is unfamiliar with. He is about to reply, something calm and not at all maddened when movement in his periphery catches his eye. 

The Iradu guards are entering the crowd—

“—kriff!”

He grabs Anakin’s wrist and forcefully pulls him forward, twisting him around so that his back thumps against Obi-Wan’s chest. Anakin makes a panicked sound and flails until Obi-Wan grabs at his hips and presses them close together, something tight winding in his stomach as he moves Anakin to dance against him—to grind against him.

“What—what are you doing?!”

Obi-Wan huffs unsteadily behind his ear and whispers, “The guards are in the crowd. You need to dance with me, we can’t be caught, Anakin. You know how much trouble this will cause in the senate if it's found out that Jedi were sent here.”

Anakin makes some wounded noise that he can’t parse before nodding, and Obi-Wan lets out a relieved breath. He keeps one hand gripping at Anakin’s hip, encouraging each hesitant movement. The other moves up to Anakin’s throat, silently urging him to tilt his head back until it rests against Obi-Wan’s shoulder and ensuring that his face is hidden. Obi-Wan burrows his own head in Anakin’s neck, frowning as Anakin's Adam’s apple bobs beneath his hand and his breathing comes out shallow. 

It feels horribly intimate and for a wild moment Obi-Wan considers changing the plan, except Anakin’s hips then begin to purposefully roll against his, his—Force, his ass grinds perfectly against Obi-Wan’s groin, just like it should if they were two strangers in a club caught up in nothing but the sweaty, intoxicating heat of each other.

Obi-Wan gasps and swallows a wanton moan and meets Anakin’s thrust. They move as one, Obi-Wan tightens his hold on Anakin’s hip and Anakin digs hands into his own thighs. The intensity of it, the rocking—kark—the dragging of Anakin’s ass against him, even over his trousers, has his cock hardening.

It feels—

Arousal coils tight and hot in his gut, his breathing nothing but shaky, damp exhales against humid, golden skin. He bites at his lip, stopping himself from groaning as the throbbing of his cock becomes an ache, so hard and sticky and wet that the friction of Anakin’s repeated grinding has him almost coming in his kriffing trousers.

Obi-Wan grits his teeth and moves slower, changing his rhythm to a patient, hard roll that causes static to pulse behind his eyes. He could fuck Anakin like this, fuck him deep and relentless—

A high, loose sound comes strangled out of Anakin’s throat. It is desperate, and enough to knock sense back into Obi-Wan. He promptly creates space between himself and Anakin, ignoring the needy whine that comes from Anakin as he does so, and scans the room, seeing no signs of the Iradu guards. 

“Let’s go,” he rasps, instantly moving away and trying to keep himself from doing something ridiculous, like grabbing at his former Padawan and asking him how he wants to take it.

“Obi-Wan?”

Why does Anakin have to sound like that? All insecure and worried, needing reassurance. Obi-Wan can't deny him when he sounds like that.

Obi-Wan glances back at him, and immediately wishes he hadn’t. He looks positively debauched; chest heaving, pupils blown, and cheeks bright red. Needy and hungry and aroused, so beautiful that it hurts. Strands of hair have fallen into his face, plastered to his forehead by the droplets of sweat trickling down his temple. Obi-Wan has to look away as he tries to smother down the traitorous arousal returning to boil in his stomach. He digs his nails into his forearms, biting at the skin so he won’t reach out and touch.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin repeats, and despite the worry there, his voice still comes out grated and husky, and Obi-Wan has to blink against the sound of it.

“Anakin,” he says, a warning or a plea, he doesn’t know.

Anakin’s steps up to him, eyes dark and blown. “Did I dance well, Master?” he asks, coy.

Obi-Wan's jaw clenches and he breathes deeply, shuddering as Anakin leans in and places a hand on his thigh, too close to his still straining cock to be unintentional.

“You did,” he croaks, feeling fraught and strung taut, ready to strike. 

If possible, Anakin blushes even more so, and the moment of sincerity allows Obi-Wan to take back the reins he had let fumble from his grip.

“I sense that this is a conversation for a different time,” he says, voice both exasperated and fond.

“If you say so, Master,” Anakin pants, far too pleased with himself.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and pushes through the crowd, knowing that Anakin is following his lead and scowls in both delight and dread as he remembers that he and Anakin must tonight share a bed.

this ran away from me and ends quite abruptly but i desperately want to see them dancing and grinding away at each other and obi-wan basically being on the verge of nutting because it’s so good

#these filthy wanton men #i adore them #obikin #spicy #anon asks #fic ideas #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #my writing

[coldshinypearl]

Hey!<3

Can you please do headcannons of Shu with his new gf? Like how he'd act and all that? THANK YOU! 💕💕💕

hii anon! sorry if this took so long i was busy with the fanfic <<33 anyway i hope you enjoy<3

Shu with his new girlfriend

- how did you catch his eye?

simple. it was like static electricity

at school, he was sitting in the hallways between class like always

his back cold from the wall, his earphones playing Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake theme.

eyelids closed, his head not moving to the velvety rhythm

legs out stretched arms crossed

not paying attention to anything but the holy notes walking around his mind and his brains imagining little white swans being circled by black ones.

as the rhythm kept getting closer to the rough part, the low note signing the entrance of the black swan, that shiny, sharp black swan attitude.

he could sense a caramelized scent getting thicker and closer to him

minute 02:00. The violins were harmonized, they were playing rough and slim notes, the rhythm is fast.

the scent is getting closer, he could feel some steps.

minute 02:05. A violin’s thick note played, the swan was coming.

the steps signed by the luxurious leather footwear are coordinated with the orchestra

minute 02:12. the violin’s notes are prolonged, low and monstrously beautiful.

he opens his eyes, you just stepped the single step that got you foot between his legs for then storming out of his reach as you gazed around worried for you tardiness to the next class.

thats the black swan.

he fell in love with you the second the saw your controlled run that reminded him of a gazelle’s flaw.

- who confessed first?

indirectly you both did at the same time

it was valentine’s day, a classic day to confess love.

and you had your mind full of ways to confess your love to him or to catch his attention (little did you know you already were his)

but when you were in front of him, at the rooftop, your mind went blank.

totally zoned out.

how could you forget?! You and your best friend planned the whole thing! You even wrote paper drafts upon drafts about what to tell him! How could your heart betray you like that?

the sunrise was in warm tones, a comfortable breeze caressed your hair, the sun’s light hit his locks and lashes, making them sparkling gold.

you had your little delicate yellow box of chocolates in you palms, your touch trembling like it was snowing.

lips trembling, rosy cheeks, pupils dilated, breath uncontrolled

he softly sighed as a little smirk curled his lips

his figure got closer to yours as you didn’t dare to look at him in the eyes, you knew that if you did warm tears would’ve refreshed your visage.

his pale hand softly grabbed the box you were holding onto

his head got closer to yours, and then he placed a loving kiss in your forehead.

the world disappeared, tears came out of your eyes, no hiccups, no trembling, just joy.

the two of you just sat there for the next 20 mins.

- how does he spend time with you?

dances, balls

bet your ass, every single event he had to attend to you will come along

if it keeps girls from bothering him and gets him an excuse to not pay attention to a word that magistrate is telling him about his future duties and heir position, its a yes for him.

and of course you will have to learn how to dance and manners and such, but believe me he is patient enough to teach you over 40 times about the same mistake you keep doing.

if you stomp in his feet of use the tea spoon instead of the cake spoon for eating that cheesecake, he will be patient and softly correct your mistakes.

he likes to grab you by the skirt of your dress or by the laces of your corset, or eventually by your waist if you’ve been naughty.

he will stick himself to you like super glue, and won’t let you go not even for a second, even if he’s not physically with you his gaze is always fixed in you

and if there is a make out session at these dances, he likes to screw up your hair or jewelry, just to see the annoyed look on your face as you desperately try to find a comb or look for your earring.

in bed, on sunny days

he loves when the two of you spend the day inside the bed and just everything from there.

he couldn’t care less, i mean he has his food (you) and his hobby (sleeping) he’s more than good

the problem is that the sex in uncontrolled. Like its just rounds after rounds with just small pauses as he takes breath back.

he loves how tired and trembling you are, and when he thinks that its all his fault of the next day he’s going to see you limping around trying to walk, it just turns him on.

“the prince is bewitched by you and you should be more than grateful, lewd woman.” this asshole says.

- does he have nicknames for you?

YES.

lewd woman: classical, just gets him because he is always manipulating you into making you seem like the perverted one between the two.

honey: called you this just to tease you, the truth is that you love when he calls you that, because it makes the two of you seem like a married couple, and he calls you that when he’s provoking an argument to see you angry, when there are girls around the two of you and he just sees the glares you’re sending them, and when you’re trying to teach him in the desperate try pf getting him onto participating more in class.

sun: usually when he’s angry or just annoyed, he just grins and calls you that while he’s telling you how annoying Reiji was this morning or just how the triplets ruined his music by fighting on who should sit next to Yui in the car. He calla you that too even when he’s defending you in arguments. You know that when he calla you that shit is about to get real.

#diabolik lovers #diaboys #dialovers #yui komori #laito sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #shu sakamaki #sakamaki shu

[dootznbootz]

Sparta royal family headcanons?? Any generation.

I HAVE A LOT AND PROBABLY HAVE TO RESEARCH MORE BUT I DO!!!! >:D Thank you for the ask!!! *headbonks*

So we don't know much info with Hippocoon and how that went down yet other than basics YET or if I plan for him to be a half-brother to Icarius and Tyndarius. BUt Icarius and Tyndarius are opposites in that Tyndarius is a worrywart and Icarius is just vibing most of the time. Tyndarius is also just dealing with more stuff...they're their generation's version of Agamemnon and Menelaus in a way with how one brother takes a lot of the brunt for the other except both have a happy ending :'D )

Also, neither are the best fighters as while Sparta was pretty big on military they were exiled for a bit. Another thing with them, being half-naiad, (and being surrounded by others like them), it makes it kind of easy to tell when one of your kids is fucking with one of your advisors as they can feel the water being moved as well. It's harder for Icarius though as his children are more naiad than him. It's easy for Tyndarius as Clytemnestra is less naiad than him. Kind of go into that here, just not with the specific family dynamics :D Also might change some things

I didn't plan for naiads and naiad-born to really have scales but now I'm kind of coming around to it because I just KNOW Tyndarius picks at them and Leda has to do the whole "stop that". (might have to redo that post I did on naiads because of it, or maybe just have a poll just for the homies :P might be skin colored and just be different skin texture. idk for sure) Also while Icarius and his whole family are pretty okay about water and spend a lot of time in the water as Periboea is a Naiad and all his children are 3/4th naiad, Tyndarius often forgets that he needs to get into the water every once in a while. Leda doesn't technically need it and his children are only 1/4th so they don't need it as often.

Leda: Dear, when was the last time you went for a swim? You've been looking over those tablets for a while, I'll take over. loosely based on clay records found at Knossos :P I think they're neat. LINEAR B, BITCHES! Tyndarius: Oh, it has been a bit! Let me finish this one up before I do. Leda, getting annoyed at him scratching at himself just dumps a pot of water over him: Better? Tyndarius: Yeah, actually! :D

It's...sometimes a bit of a problem when you're a person who needs to be damp often and two of your children kind of always have a lot of static electricity :'D

I know Leda and Tyndarius have affection for one another, but I don't really have a plan for how they got together :P I DO kind of for Icarius and Periboea though! :D All I know is that Icarius being a runner, it's really funny to me to think this guy, being half-naiad, just fucking RUNS on water for funsies, which annoyed Periboea when he's back from exile. Plan for them to have a pretty happy marriage, though sadly, that's not the case for all their children :') and that's part of the reason why he tries to get Penelope to stay in Sparta as he's overprotective of them all while also desperately not wanting them to have feuds like what happened to him and Tyndarius.

Lil bit of spoiler but...Hermione was 5 years old when her mom was kidnapped and she was a bit traumatized by it. :') as she kind of got to see it happen

#I know she was 9 in most things but to keep certain timeline things with the Odyssey with Penelope and the suitors :P #As they talk about her 'bearing them children' if she were 29 when war happened and 20 years later 49. she probably couldn't #have children anymore at that point. and as another person who doesn't really care for HUGE agegaps (no lore olympus persephone and hades #here! >:( ) I made Hermione 5 instead so then Penelope would've been around 45 so it's more likely to fit what the suitors said #while still not having a huge age gap! :D #Mad rambles #ask #sorry it took a bit!!! I have a lot more thoughts on this but here's simple shit right now :D #thehelplessmortals #shot by odysseus #my headcanons #I have such soft spots for Leda. tyndarius. icarius. and periboea for some reason. have quite a few thoughts on them...kind of :'D #none of it is like...“solid” it's just fragmented lil happy thoughts I guess :D #Water Wife #kinda

[luminusobscurum]

Hi, it’s me the nerd again! Once again, I was bored and did more research.

Radio frequency is light and the waves are naturally found in the sun and lighting. Radio frequency is a literal force of nature!!! It’s non visible light, that’s amazing!

They are a main source for the internet and electricity. The electromagnetic spectrum is very old and not going away. If I got all my information right, if Alastor wanted to kill Vox he probably could. One-sided Static-Radio is so funny I can’t explain it. Imagine the “radio” part in Radio Demon meant “radiation.” Forget the internet, you’re fighting something that can kill DNA 💀

Alastor isn’t the most powerful being in hell, but he is my favorite. I have an excuse to talk about radiation now, and it’s fun. I’m smiling and laughing while writing this 🥳

HI

sorry it took so long to respond sometimes my brain shuts off lol. im so happy you enjoyed writing this dont think it wasnt appreciated!!

Im going to put the hazbin stuff up top and the science-y under a break 🫶

with vox and alastor. im so glad to hear alastor is your favorite!! hes my sisters favorite too haha. i got her into hazbin and she stayed up all night and i woke up to her sending my a bunch of fan songs 😭😭

vox has that swing his dick around confidence from SOMEWHERE regarding Al if he was ballsy enough to call him out again like that. after all, alastor almost beat him but didnt, im sure when they both retreated to lick their wounds vox still had that arrogant billionaire attitude and giggled like "did you see that i beat the radio demon ME"

i genuinely feel out of the Vees, Vox may be the weakest, it really feels like his shtick is just peddling whatever velvette and valentino have to put on his platforms. after all nobody would mess with computers and tablets if not for precious yummy content.

and i do think an overlords' power can be influenced with how much a vice has taken over earth. I really feel for a while it was just Valentino doing his thing since porn has been a Thing predating wayyy farther back than samsung tv and twitter.

i do think Vox is smarter than Val and he was able to zuckerberg his way into a position of power getting in Val's ear like hey hey we each have 2$ if we combine our heads we could split a wendys 4 for 4 and he just went fuck yeah dude

read more vv

i would have gladly informed radio was a fundamental force of nature, basically every picture and sound we get from space is bounce backed to us through radiation (i THINK these in particular ate microwaves, the same ones you use for food, but im unsure)

one of my favorite things about the internet i wouldnt say goes on in the air but probably through the massive trans atlantic cables we have in the ocean that connect countries together that shit is tight as fuck i learned in college in uhhh '18 or '19 idk.

radiation sickness doesnt just kill dna it can fuck up your chromosomes, radiation poisoning can quite literally delete your bodies ability to create and produce new cells of any variety. terrifying but cool as fuck. radiation quite literally giveth and taketh away.

#hazbin hotel #in regards to velvette #she just showed up and vox was too scared to tell her go away and val was just hunkered down on his phone #arguing with angel dust through text to pay attention someone else showed up #essie.ask

[vexing-imogen]

seal my heart (and break my pride)

"She told me she was proud of me."

Imogen's voice is a quiet thing on any given day, and tonight it's almost lost to the winds of the Hellcatch. Were Orym not so very close to her (always the protector Lita had gently teased, watching him interact with the Hells, just like Dad), were he not able to read lips, he suspects her words would have been lost to the night.

He simply hums in response. A question, but one she doesn't need to answer if she isn't up to it.

"My mother," she clarifies, and he can just see the shine of fresh tears on her cheeks in the dusk. "It was the last thing she said to me before she-" She swallows hard. "Before she died."

It's the first time she's actually said the words out loud. They'd all watched Liliana sacrifice herself in the eleventh hour, teleporting directly into the path of the blade that Otohan was about to sink into Imogen's back. She'd died in her daughter's arms with no chance of resurrection. (Not that they would have wasted their resources on trying; not for her. Not unless Imogen had explicitly requested it. All of them, with the exception of Letters, had agreed that the gesture was too little too late.)

Imogen has been a shell of herself since. It's different than it was with Laudna. She'd had hope to cling to then, a goal to fulfill. She has none of that now. He also suspects that it's difficult to mourn someone you barely knew, who turned out to be so very different from what you imagined.

"Yeah?" he prompts gently.

She laughs, a hollow, broken thing that echoes in the desert. "And I felt absolutely nothin'," she confesses. "Here's my mother tellin' me everything I'd ever wanted to hear; that she loved me, that she was proud of me, how I was the very best part of her life. And none of it meant a goddamn thing."

She stares at the marker that Chetney had made. "I just wish..." She finally turns to him. "I wish she were still alive so I wouldn't feel so guilty for bein' mad at her."

Orym lays his hand on her wrist. "You're allowed to be angry, Imogen," he tells her. "One good deed doesn't make up for decades of bad decisions. Not the least of which was abandoning you."

"I don't hate her," she says after a minute. "And a part of me wonders how much of her was still left in there y'know?" She sighs. "But all the stuff she did, all the stuff she was tryin' to do..."

"You can't just forgive and forget?" he guesses.

"Yeah." Imogen pulls the marker out of the ground, traces over her mother's name. "Maybe it's best if..."

She doesn't finish her thought. The smell of ozone is all the warning Orym gets before a bolt of lightning strikes the wood in Imogen's hands, shattering it into pieces. He gets his shield up just in time to avoid a face full of splinters.

Imogen isn't quite as lucky. Her face and chest are a mess of bloody scrapes. Orym winces as she pulls one particularly large splinter out of her cheek. He digs a healing potion out of his pack and hands it to her.

"Feel better?" he asks.

Her lower lip quivers, fresh tears making even more of a bloody mess of her face. "No."

Eventually, she tucks the largest piece of wood away in her bag; the piece with part of Liliana's name still legible on the charred surface. She drinks the potion, uses her magic to clean herself up, and then turns to him.

"Don't tell Chetney?"

He takes her hand, can feel the static electricity still buzzing through her fingertips. "I wouldn't dream of it."

#critical role #bell's hells #imogen temult #orym of the air ashari #critfic

[blot-squisher]

How bout SFW alphabet with the doctor?

I was not expecting this one! Thanks for the ask! ⚡⚡⚡

SFW Alphabet Ask Meme for Surviving the Game the Doctor

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Herman isn't the most conventional of people, or partners for that matter. Although he can be very affectionate to the person he cares about, the way he shows it is... odd. He'll offer to include you in his experiments or (lovingly) offer to implant medical devices in your body to 'upgrade' you. Then you can electrocute people together!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) He doesn't remember when you stopped being a test subject and became a friend, but now you are and that's great! He's rather absent minded, but when he does remember that you're around, he'll try to include you in his projects in some way. If it helps, he'll show interest in whatever you have going on! As long as he remembers anyway...

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Yes! Cuddling is a fantastic way to discharge excess static! Since Herman's on his feet so much, when he does get the chance to sit down, it's nice to have someone beside him. He might lean on you, or you can lean on him. As long as you're touching in some way, he's happy.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) This man doesn't have time to settle down! He has things to do! Cooking?! No time! Cleaning?! No time! Just throw out whatever's dirty and buy a new one!

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) He might honestly forget he hadn't broken up with you yet, and when you confront him about why he's been ghosting you, he'll remember and tell you then. It's not personal, he's just got more important things to do!

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) NO TIME FOR THAT! HE HAS THINGS TO DO!

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) Although he's a lot softer physically than most of the other Slashers, he tends to carry a lot of electrical charge in his body and will probably zap you 9 times out of 10 without meaning to... He's not purposely obtuse when it comes to emotions, but he's got such a single track mind for statistics and variables, he might not even notice you're not happy.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) Hugs are also a great way to discharge excess static! If he's been busy shuffling around the lab all day, it's probably better to stay out of reach until he's gotten a hold of someone else...

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) His love of science is never ending and he'll be sure to tell you that all the time. Oh, you mean towards you? Hasn't he told you yet? Oops.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Herman will absolutely get jealous if he thinks you're going to someone else for something he could have helped with. He's a doctor after all!

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss their partner? Where do they like to be kissed?) Herman is not a kisser, but he doesn't mind being kissed on the cheek.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Children are fascinating little gremlins! There's a never ending amount of things to learn from them! But keep them away from his lab equipment. They're grabby and clumsy, and that stuff isn't cheap.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Fast paced and full of weird, random, and sometimes seemingly pointless experiments, usually involving breakfast food.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Often incredibly late. Nothing makes a man lose track of time like the riveting data of his latest tests. How did that mouse's head explode, and can he get the same results on something bigger?

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) He probably won't even realize he's revealing it. Get him talking, and he won't stop. That often ends up with him going on rants about people he used to work with, tests that didn't turn out well, and how a certain pattern reminds him of his grandmother's couch.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Other than the things that make him jealous, nothing angers him more than a promising experiment suddenly going belly up with no clear reason as to why.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about their partner? Do they remember every little detail they mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Herman usually doesn't bother to remember what day of the week it is much less what specific dates are important. Unless it correlates to an important scientific breakthrough that is.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in their relationship?) When you led him to a breakthrough in a project he'd been struggling with. It had simply never occurred to him to get an outsiders perspective, but he'll cherish that moment forever.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect their partner? How would they like to be protected?) It may take him a while to realize you're in danger, unless he's the cause. He'll do his best to keep you safe even if that means putting himself in danger. The only thing he wants you to protect is his research. He can handle himself, but if anyone gets into his files, there's going to be hell to pay.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) If he remembers (it'll be very last minute) he'll scramble to put something special together for you. Hey, at least he tries!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) He simply doesn't understand why no one likes his beside manner. What do you mean, your hands are cold and 'shocky'? That's not a thing! Maybe he should run some tests to find out what your problem is.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He doesn't have time for that nonsense! Looks are secondary to results!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their partner?) Only if he notices they're missing.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Herman has fired more computers than any other Slasher around. He has to be incredibly careful not to overload them, but eventually forgets to discharge any excess electricity in his body and there goes another one! Due to this, almost all his research is handwritten and stored in carefully coded filing cabinets that take up almost every room in his house.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Don't. Touch. His. Research.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?) He usually falls asleep sitting at his desk after working for too long. It's scared the shit out of quite a few of the others when on occasions they've gone to talk to him, then realized he wasn't actually awake.

#sfw alphabet #surviving the game fic #herman carter #the doctor dbd #writing thoughts #ask meme

[hearts4golbach]

Light Shower. (Sal Fisher x Fem!Reader)

part 6

-

"I was cold, my past grew mold around my heart."

-

in New jersey, no one cared for valentines Day except for the 4th graders. exactly one week before Valentines, a Monday to be exact, I walked in from recess to see a wilted dandelion on my desk. I gingerly picked it up and looked around the class. I looked at sal, who just shrugged. what an amazing actor he was. I sat down, placing the bright yellow flower at the very top of my desk, and reached to get my math book. a piece of notebook paper fell out of my cubby hole. It was neatly folded and had a cute little cat with a messy heart drawn on it. I smiled and opened the note. the handwriting was messy but legible:

rozes are red, violets are blue. the sun shines bright, and so do u! :)

-secret admirer

the way the note was signed caught me off guard. I felt my stomach bubble with excitement. I couldn't wait to tell sal how I had a secret admirer, me! little did I know.

the short poems and silly little flowers kept coming all week without fail. with every gift, I became more anxious and excited to know who was responsible for this. cliche, I know.

I hid every note in my sock drawer, eventually collecting a small pile of 5 notes.

the next Monday, valentines Day, I walked into class to see the usual wilted flower in the middle of my desk. except, there was a tiny Hershey chocolate bar next to it. I dare say, that was my favorite valentines Day.

-

my heart yearned for sal, just like it had for so many years. except, it ached and screamed, making me want to sob. I wanted to run to sal and for him to kiss and hold me, just like he had. but I couldn't. everything changed. I was glued in my bed, once again. this never-ending cycle was exhausting, and I only knew one thing that'd help. I took the plastic baggie out of my shoe. everything was already crushed. I cried as I finished off the bag, feeling even worse for relapsing. I knew I'd forget eventually. I begged whatever God was out there to make it stop. yet, flashbacks and guilt kept hitting me, like they were in the same bed as I. I could feel Shawn's hands on my body. everything burned until it didn't. I stared up at the ceiling, my brain becoming TV static, and my body went numb. it was a choice between feeling everything or nothing, and I'd choose nothing over and over again.

when my parents had gone to work, I dragged myself out of the pool of sweat and tears that was my bed and grabbed a soda from the fridge. the cold fizz brought me a short-lived sense of relief, that maybe everything isn't so bad. but that was quickly interrupted by an eager knocking at the door. I rubbed my eyes, hoping I didn't look like I had just relapsed, fully knowing who was behind the door. I couldn't fave sal like this. i couldn't let him see me, not sober.

I held my breath, staring into his electric blue eyes, silently begging him to say something. "Y/n, I'm so sorry."

a feeling of actual relief washed over me. "sal, you have no reason to apologize for something like that." I mumbled.

"Y/n." his tone changed. "Can I come in?"

I nodded and stupidly enough led him to the room where all of the evidence was. my heart dropped when I saw the baggie and book still on my bed.

"Look, before you get mad..." Before I could finish my sentence, he pulled my in for a hug. I began to cry, and I felt a few of his tears seep through his mask, too. "I'm so sorry, I didn't have a choice."

"I know." I could hear the pain and sympathy in his voice. "I should've came sooner."

"Sal, it's not your fault." we laid in my bed. I nuzzled my head into his chest as he gently ran his fingers through my hair. he took off his mask and put it somewhere in my room.

"I really fucking like you." he whispered, breaking the silence. I looked up at him. I quickly pulled him in and connected our lips once more. I felt him smile, excitement and logning coursing through my views.

I pulled back. "I really fucking like you too." I mimicked. I watched his eyes light up.

"I was wondering if you'd wanna be my girlfriend. I'm sorry, I know you've been through some deep shit and-"

"sal," I cut him off, placing my hand on the side of his face. "I'd fucking love to. I want you more than anything. I trust you to be different, hell, I KNOW you're different." I sighed, the weight of the world finally off my chest.

-

sals POV:

Y/ns mom kicked me out, saying it was late and to go home. I laughed quietly as I walked out, like I hadn't stayed over for days at a time before. I went home and checked on dad, who was asleep in his work chair. i let out an exhausted sigh and made my way down to Larry and Lisa's apartment. I felt like I could smell his stench all the way from the 4th floor. I wandered down the hall to the apartment and walked in quietly, knowing Lisa was asleep. I walked into Larry's room and jumped onto his bed. "Hey, Lar Bear."

he groaned. "I was just about to sleep! and don't call me that, dude." he playfully punched my arm.

"me and Y/n are dating."

Larry looked at me, shocked. "finally! God damn."

"shhh! you're being loud."

he laughed. "my bad. its funny cuz I got a girlfriend today. some blonde bimbo, she's hot as fuuuck."

I rolled my eyes. "you really shouldn't talk about women like that."

he shrugged. "whatever."

#ash campbell #larry johnson #sal fisher #sally face #fanfic #fanfiction #friends to lovers #light shower #melanie martinez #sal fisher x y/n

[the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink]

Happy Accidents (Mikey Way x reader)

Summary: Despite having made sure they took care of themselves in the queue, the crowd gets a little too rough for (y/n) and things go downhill. Thankfully, someone up on the stage noticed... 

Word Count: 2632

Warnings: mild talk of blood and head injuries 

A/N: I’ve never passed out at a gig (I’m just that good) but if I did... I’d definitely want it to go something like this. 

(Clarifying note: even when I’m writing for the band in their current era, I’m writing them as being single. I adore their partners + families, and I don’t particularly wanna write cheating storylines or anything that paints them very negatively, ‘kay?) 

I’m a sucker for fics where the reader gets spotted in the crowd at a show okay? Sue me. 

Sixteen hours queueing outside the venue in torrential rain and three hours inside, adjusting to the feeling of being packed into an active crowd for the first time in forever, had led up to this moment. The lights were down, the static was echoing across the venue, and the feeling in (y/n)’s veins was electric. They had made it. 

One hand wrapped tightly around the top of the barrier, they alternated between babbling excitedly with the friends they’d made in the line and staring up at the equipment on stage, awestruck. 

“It doesn’t even feel real yet dude.” Fern’s messy orange hair was almost glowing in the venue light as they bounced up and down on the spot. “I’m gonna faint from excitement when they come on, I swear.” 

(y/n) nudged them, rolling their eyes. “Hey, don’t you dare. We put way too much effort into getting here to black out in the first song. Besides, that shouldn’t happen, because we’ve actually eaten and slept. Unlike half the people behind us.” 

Fern snorted, admiring the messily scrawled number eighteen on the back of their hand. “Yeah, how that lot up in the nineties are gonna make it is a mystery to me. I don’t think they moved all day. At least we made the effort to get pizza.” 

They opened their mouth to reply, but the house lights dimmed, and movement on the stage made their heart freeze. Their voices joined the screaming from the rest of the crowd as the band filed on, waving and getting themselves ready to begin. (y/n) was faintly aware of Fern grabbing their free hand and squeezing, both of them momentarily overwhelmed by the fact that their idols were right there. 

As Gerard took his position at the front of the stage, drawing roars from the crowd as they realised he was wearing a very short hospital gown spattered with fake blood, the people in the pit rushed forwards, crushing the front row against the barrier. The increase in pressure was unwelcome, but they soon adjusted to it. It was hardly a surprise that it had happened, after all. 

The band launched into The Foundations of Decay, and (y/n) grappled with their phone for a few moments, got a couple of pictures, and then tucked it away again. They wanted to be in the moment as much as possible - and there was so much to see. Ray’s incredible curls bouncing back and forth as he worked his guitar with lightning-fast moves. Frank nuzzling up against the microphone (which was turned up blissfully loud, and whoever had done so deserved the entire world on a plate). Gerard playing with the soundboard like a kid with a new toy on Christmas Day. Mikey rolling his eyes at every little thing his brother did and grinning at the handful of signs dispersed through the crowd. 

One song slipped into another over and over again, with the occasional break for Gerard to screw around with some voice effects or ramble about something unintelligible for a few minutes before carrying on like nothing had happened. (Y/n) felt like they were on top of the world. Despite the heat of the crowd and the way they were all crammed in like sardines, they were loving every second of the experience, and knew it wasn’t one they were going to forget in a hurry. And they were rather proud of themself, too - multiple people a few rows back had been pulled out of the crowd at various points because they’d fainted, whereas they felt perfectly healthy. Taking naps, eating when they got hungry and drinking plenty of water had set them up perfectly for an hour and forty minutes of intense singing and dancing. 

Of course, good things don’t always last forever. 

During Boy Division, something changed. There was a confused flurry of movement a few rows back from the barrier that (y/n) didn’t really register as a problem until the yellow-shirted security team started rushing in their direction. But they weren’t fast enough. They felt a heavy boot collide with the back of their head and very nearly bounced off the barrier as a crowdsurfer came over, flailing wildly. Security managed to get their arms around the man, but he was very tall and a little on the larger side - and they didn’t have a good enough grip. They dropped him. (y/n) felt a second impact, this time to the top of their head, as the man came crashing down against them. The security team finally pulled him over the other side of the barrier, but (y/n)’s vision was going grey and they could feel their legs shaking. As they dropped, losing sense of the world around them, they were vaguely aware of a familiar voice interrupting the song. 

“Stop, stop! Someone’s down!” 

And then there was nothing. 

***

The next thing (y/n) was fully aware of was the throbbing pain at the back of their skull. They sat up slowly, closing their eyes again as the bright bulb in the little room seared it’s light into their brain. From the sliver of the room they had managed to see, they had deduced that they were in the first aid area. The stacked supply boxes against the walls had mostly given it away, and the lumpy surface of the fold out cot they had been placed on made that assumption even clearer. As they tried to adjust to being conscious again, they became aware of low voices nearby. 

“So they’re gonna be okay?” 

“Yeah. They’ve got a pretty nasty scrape to the back of the head and the beginnings of a mild concussion, but things could have been a lot worse.” 

“That’s a relief. I saw them hit the barrier and just... I don’t know. It was pretty scary to watch.” 

Bored of being the subject of conversation without actually being involved, (y/n) managed a slight groan. “Was even scarier from my point of view, if you ask me.” 

They heard footsteps, and felt the bed sink a little next to them as someone sat down. “Hey, how are you feeling?” 

“Like I just had a grown man dropped on my head.” 

The newcomer snorted. “Yeah, I bet. Adam, you wanna come over here and check things out now they’re awake?” 

A second man - presumably Adam - joined them, settling on a wheeled stool on front of them. “Okay, I’m one of the medics here tonight. You took some nasty hits to the head back there, and you’ve been out about an hour. Can you tell me your name?” 

“(y/n), I’m (y/n). But... an hour? I missed the end of the show?” Their eyes flew open, face painted with dismay, and the man who’d sat down next to them put a hand on their shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry dude. The show ended forty five minutes ago, you missed the encore.” 

They groaned again. “Oh, I don’t believe it. What did I miss?” And they shifted to look at him properly - and made eye contact with none other than Mikey Way. “Oh, shit.” 

Mikey grinned sheepishly. “Hi there.” 

“You-” 

“Yeah.” 

“It was you who stopped the show! I remember hearing you...” 

Was the light playing tricks on them, or had his cheeks suddenly got very pink? 

“Yeah, I ran over and grabbed Gee’s mic, they were closest. I’d spotted you a few times earlier in the show, so it was lucky that I was watching at the right moment.” 

The conversation paused as Adam checked (y/n)’s pupils, apologising as they winced back against the light of the pen torch. “Okay, so you’ve got a slight concussion, but it’s nothing serious enough to need a hospital trip. How did you get here tonight?” 

(y/n) frowned. “I walked here. I only live a few miles away, and I was just gonna get a taxi home.” 

Mikey’s face fell. “All the roads round here are closed, it’s been chaos trying to get people out. Apparently there was some kind of protest going on and the police got involved?” 

“Oh, there was a football match tonight.” They rolled their eyes. “So that’s probably what’s happened. A load of drunk idiots have kicked off for no reason and screwed over everyone else. Great. Ow!” 

Adam apologised again as he examined the injury on the back of their head. “I cleaned this up while you were out and it doesn’t seem to have bled much more, which is a good sign. But I really wouldn’t recommend you walking home - or trying to get home by yourself. Is there someone who can come and get you?” 

“I live on my own, the rest of my family is a good fifteen miles away. And even if they were close, the road closures mean I’d have to walk to meet them anyway. So basically, I’m stuck. Wait - has the queue for tomorrow’s show started yet?” 

“Let me go and find out.” Mikey got up and left, reappearing ten minutes later with a bundle of fabric in his arms. “Yeah, there’s a bit of a line. Why, are you coming to this one as well?” 

(y/n) managed a laugh, wincing a little as the movement made their head throb. “Oh, I wish. This show sold out before I could even think about tickets. I was just thinking of sleeping out there, at least I won’t be on my own.” 

“There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside the venue, are you kidding me?” 

“What? I got here in the early hours today and slept, I was fine. We had blankets and everything.” 

“Yeah, and now you’ve got a head injury, so I’m not gonna let that happen. Come with me.” 

Adam shrugged at them as if to say ‘don’t ask me what he’s up to’, and (y/n) nodded. Realistically, the choice between heading outside in the cold to nap on the uncomfortable pavement and staying with the very attractive bassist of their favourite band a little longer wasn’t a difficult one. “Okay.” 

They wobbled a little as they stood up for the first time, and Mikey moved to steady them. “You good?” 

“Yeah, just... getting used to being upright again. I’ll be fine if we go slowly.” 

“Okay.” 

And they walked together through the crew zones of the venue, making small talk and stopping every few minutes to make sure (y/n) didn’t get too dizzy. Mikey had revealed what had been played after they had been pulled from the crowd, and had received a playful smack in the arm for his troubles. 

“You played (favourite song) without me? That’s so rude.” 

“Oh dude that sucks, I’m sorry. I can promise to put it on the set for tomorrow, if that makes you feel any better.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t get tickets for tomorrow, remember? I could just stand outside the venue and imagine being on the barrier again, I guess.” 

He laughed, and they missed the little glint that flickered in his eyes as he did so. “I mean that’s one way of doing things. Just through here.”

The two of them stepped through the doorway and into the lobby of the attached hotel. As (y/n) stopped, frowning slightly, Mikey brushed his hand against theirs for the briefest of moments, leading them towards the front desk. 

“We’re all staying here for the next four nights with all the crew, and there’s some spare rooms, so...” 

“You got me a room? Oh Mikey, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“Well, I couldn’t just let you sleep outside, could I?” And he talked to the receptionist for a moment before taking the room key and checking the number. “Come on. I managed to get you put in the last room on the floor the guys and I are staying on, so you’ll have some familiar faces to see tomorrow.” 

Blown away by his kindness to a literal stranger, (y/n) found themself glued to the floor for a moment, and he held out a hand. 

“Look, I know this is probably a lot to take in right now. I just wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I let you leave here injured. I’d rather know you were tucked up safe for the night, okay? Besides...” This time, it definitely wasn’t a trick of the light - he was blushing. “I was watching you a lot tonight. You just looked like you were having the best time, and... that smile took my breath away.” 

By now, (y/n) was positive that their own cheeks were burning brightly, and they reached out to take his hand. “Good thing that I was smiling at you then, isn’t it?” 

The conversation returned to a slightly more casual tone as they made their way upstairs, but the atmosphere had definitely shifted. (y/n)’s heart felt like it was trying to beat it’s way out of their chest, and they were definitely a little disappointed when they reached the right room. It made them feel a little better to notice that Mikey looked like he was feeling the same way as he passed over the bundle he’d been holding. 

“Oh, I picked these up for you. Kinda eyeballed the size a bit, but if they don’t fit I can always switch them out.” It was three merch t-shirts, one of which being the Mikey Way mystery one. 

(y/n) grinned, folding them over their arm. “You were dead on with the size, well done. And thanks, you really didn’t have to.” 

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d got blood on your shirt when you got hurt, and figured you wouldn’t wanna keep wearing that if you had. Oh, and here’s the room key.” And he slipped something else into their hands with it. A guest pass dated for the next three shows. (y/n) felt their jaw drop. 

“Oh, Mikey, I... Seriously? This is for me too?” 

He nodded, smiling. “I felt bad that you’d missed out on us playing your favourite song because of some random guy. At least at the side of the stage you know you’ll be safe from morons.” 

“Oh, thank you!” They desperately wanted to hug him, but didn’t want to make him feel awkward and didn’t exactly know how best to ask. Mikey solved that problem by leaning in and initiating the hug himself - and as they stood there, wrapped in his arms, (y/n) could’ve sworn that they felt him kiss the top of their head. 

“Hey, it’s the least I could do. Oh, can I borrow your phone real quick?” When they passed it over, he tapped away for a few moments before giving it back. “If you need anything, or you start feeling ill, whatever, just text me, okay?” 

“You- you’ve given me your phone number?” This experience was getting more surreal by the minute. “Do you do this for every poor idiot who gets injured at a gig?” 

He shot them a wink. “Only the really special ones. Will I see you at breakfast?” 

He’d sounded a little nervous as he asked - almost like a teenager trying to ask their crush on a first date. And that thought almost made (y/n)’s heart explode. 

“Well, I don’t see why not.” In a moment of bravery, they got onto their tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Mikey.” 

He was now almost the same shade of red as the hotel carpet. 

“Goodnight, (y/n).” 

The two of them ducked into their respective hotel rooms, each closing the door behind them before doing a little happy dance, grinning widely. 

Maybe they had something to thank that crowdsurfer for after all. 

#this is so self indulgent lmao i'm not even sorry #my chemical romance #mcr #current era mcr #mikey way x reader #mikey way #gerard way #frank iero #ray toro #Tw: mild injury #tw: blood (mild) #fluff #we've all wanted to be noticed by our favourite band okay #cutesy shit #mcr tour #non binary reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #fic #fanfic #oneshot

[idk-ilike5sos]

The thing was, Will Byers loved hot chocolate. He loved the sickly richness as a slight burning coated his tongue. He loved the warmth reaching his stomach. He loved the mug defrosting his fingers, colouring his skin from blue to red. He loved the oversweet sugar of the whipped cream and marshmallows; though, most of the time, it wasn't needed.

He'd loved it since forever, but it became a staple for the colder months when he was six years old. Jonathan was ten - Will remembered the birthday card he'd made at school, blue-tacked above the desk as a crayon drawing peaked between the opening.

They were holding ground at the usual safe haven: Jonathan's bedroom. The cracked open door widened and quickly clicked shut as the yelling outside went muffled and almost indecipherable ("You're acting crazy!" "I'm acting– You're making me crazy, with your fake promises! I can't trust a word out of your mouth!" "Oh, here we go, blame me, Joyce. You know, maybe you should learn to take some fucking accountability for once in your life–").

Heavy on the almost.

Within one of Will's fast-pulsing heartbeats, Jonathan placed down two mugs on his desk and fiddled with cassette tapes before shoving one at random into a secondhand boombox. The volume twisted higher as the yelling got closer, and a door Will knew to be his parents swung open; soon enough, his ears drowned in a vibrating bass and strumming electric guitar.

Before Will could think to ask what they were arguing about this time - causing another one of those guilt-ridden, reluctant looks from his brother - a warm mug was forced into his small hands, an overflowing mountain of whipped cream with marshmallows peaking out from beneath. Will’s eyes lit up, then batted to meet Jonathan's: red and glossed in the early morning, window light. A smile pulled Will’s mouth, only just reaching his eyes as he hoped to watch the watery look dry out of Jonathan’s ghostly disposition.

Minutes turned into forever, and the two sat on Jonathan’s bed as the music blared over the screaming and crashing. The tension didn't leave the air, and the glaze refused to leave Jonathan’s stiff eyes - but the sweet, warming hot chocolate was a woolly blanket in a blizzard.

Will was pretty sure it was the best thing he'd ever drank.

He could remember the weeks that followed his return from The Upside Down and how Joyce had woken him up with a steaming mug every morning, alongside offering more and more throughout the day. It was only store brand cocoa powder in boiled milk, but Will decided that tasted the best anyway.

Still, on the worst days when Will refused to move from his bed and only Joyce and Jonathan were allowed to enter his room: Jonathan would be sent to the store to buy the special stuff. The more expensive, branded hot chocolate, giant marshmallows, and sickly whipped cream.

And in each sip, he couldn't resist the hug he was instantly wrapped in.

On the first night in Lenora, the family had a mug after dinner as they all pretended they didn't miss Hawkins as much as they did. But the time Will thought of more often was a month later; leaving the bathroom in the middle of the night, he passed the living room to find the TV glowing across the carpeted floor as a hunched over silhouette sat in front of an old movie. When he approached the figure, El revealed tears in her eyes, and Will was quick to figure it wasn't because of the movie playing in front of her.

So, the tradition continued.

It was great that El grew just as big a fan. Some of his favorite mugs had been shared between them in secret at the end of his bed in the middle of the night, while the rest of the world became static. It was easy to forget time with her. As, all of a sudden, superpowers, demogorgons, and alternate universes didn't exist: and the irony that they would've never met without any of them never reached the two, because in that moment they'd known each other their entire lives.

After defeating Vecna once and for all, the Hopper-Byers returned to the Wheeler's house, where they were all staying for the time being. Will and Mike readied to pass-out in bed, but the tiredness left them, and all they could do was lay atop the comforter motionless as they silently stared at the ceiling. At some point, Mike had left the room, but Will didn't notice until he returned with two mugs and a stiff smile. As the darkness faded into the morning, they sat on Mike's bed and whispered the night away. For the most part, the mugs were untouched, as they quickly went cold and were discarded on the nightstand.

Because the truth was, Will didn't actually want a hot chocolate. In fact, he didn't a lot of the times he'd shared one with someone. He did, however, want the soft, comforting blanket that Jonathan had turned it into a decade ago.

It wasn’t about the hot chocolate. It was never about the hot chocolate - it was the people he shared it with as he gave up a piece of himself with every cup he made for someone and a weight lifted off his shoulders in each sip.

#stranger things #will byers #jonathan byers #el hopper #mike wheeler #willel #willel siblings #byler #joyce byers #stranger things drabble #drabble #please please please reblog <333

[fruit-salad-ship]

Does peach remember any other Pokémon from her old family home that come to mind like her moms gengar?

She remembers them all, every individual she saw there stayed with her, it’s why she has nightmares a lot.

She remembers her moms gengar being terrifying, putting her in a weird shadow realm alone whenever she messed up. She remembers her chandelure making sure she always felt watched, an ambient nagging drain on her body just to be around it, it’s purpose to weaken anyone close, make them pliable. The stupid delphoxXninetales was spiteful, mean, mocking cocky, and left her with a fierce burn through a redirected attack from Val. The worst was the luxrayXmamoswine, resembling a sabertooth in form, it’s dual type was volatile and it would be very unkind during training, to this day she fears the feeling of electrical attacks or even just static, and it’s one of the reasons she hates the cold with its icy moves.

The aunts had type specialities, ghost and poison, their teams were all made to fight, and were too dangerous to play with or be near without risk. Then there’s Rob. He went through dozens of Pokemon, training them too hard, working them to the bone. The older he got the more he pushed them. His first however was a sandshrew, a sweet little thing he befriended, but one day he made a mistake and that Pokemon went missing. He cried about it for a while to peach, upset that his friend was missing. Peach knew, deep down, it was taken by the adults as a form of discipline. Cass’s first was a sentret, cute, brave, perhaps too brave for the work the kids did. It got eaten by one of the Pokemon his mother trained, she seemed unfazed by this, he however grew cold over bonds made with partners from then on, and took little interest in connecting to any Pokemon he handled from then on.

I could go into the Pokemon peach trained, individually picked by her from a pack and hand raised, each one either being moved on due to her doing a good enough job at raising it, allowing it’s potential to fight to shine, one of the aunts taking it to push further. Every 6 months they’d review the cousins training and pick the strongest one to keep. The ones they didn’t do so well with would be disposed of one way or another, if not fed to another bigger meaner mon, then put down, by her own hands whenever she didn’t have her mon picked by the adults, pushed to do so by her moms beyheem, a hideous mon that would force its way into peoples heads and act for them, felt like you were deep underwater with the pressure it put in your skull, it’s one species she tends to have a lot of trouble with, gets quietly nervous around because of this. Val learnt how to defend peach from psychic types who like to jump into brains and puppet bodies because of this exact mon. It changed them both.

Her home was bad, her upbringing tough, and her memories of home all very bitter. She doesn’t sleep well because she made mistakes, and thinks she should have been better, or done more. She never forgets them, not a single one, remembers their faces, their lives, saw hundreds come and go, and loses sleep over it regularly.

The only exception to this, is Bob, who basically raised her, and sure he was sweet and gentle, somehow untouched by the many generations that came before peach, stayed kind, a sturdy rock in her life. The best boy.

#sad stuff but it’s the story #she’s not come from a good place #fruit salad

[lemongingerart]

Chapter 2 - Shooting lessons (II)

Fic summary: The second arc of my Armitage Hux x OC fanfic, “chocolate cookies and tarine tea”, in which both need to deal with the mess they got into (and with each other, eh eh eh). Involves cookies that won't be eaten and tea that will get spilled. Same goes for certain feelings... they are going to be hungry ant thirsty 😏

You can find the link to AO3 and other chapters on Tumblr in the pinned message on my dash, both for the first and second arc 😊

Rating: Explicit. This is going to be very NSFW. So, Minors, do NOT read or interact. 18+. Family, friends and colleagues, please don’t read this. :’-)

Tags & warnings: TRoS fix-it (kind of), Hux!lives, Hux doesn’t like Kylo, Not a Redemption Arc, maybe a little bit, shameless fem!OC insert (there are cliches but entertaining ones imo), slow emotional burn, medium sexual burn, Enemies to Enemies With Benefits to Lovers, Hux is still a villain don't forget, Virgin Characters, masturbation against the door, pinv, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkward Sexual Situations, Past Child Abuse, dubious first kiss, Dom/sub Undertones, Mental Breakdown, Unprotected Sex, wet Hux, that deserves a tag/warning on its own, Minor Character Death

I will add tags as we proceed in the story, please let me know if I forgot one!

Taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess, @morby and anyone who’d like to join 🥰

A/N:    Yessss it’s Hux turn now to be embarrassed 😈 by the stars I hope I did him justice. And this is not even the real deal. How do people even write this stuff?

Oh wait, I just did… somewhere in the next chapters 😬🙋

(Don't get any wrong ideas, me publishing 2 chapters in 2 days is a unique thing 😂 Let me know if some parts are inconsistent - I reviewed this so many times and I am literally falling asleep on my desk. But publishing the previous chapter got me enthusiastic and now I'm doing things I might regret yolooooooooo)

This was different. 

Once, when he was still a Lieutenant and reluctantly assigned to drill newcomers by Brendol, he instructed cadets on their first shooting lessons. He took the job seriously, but the mandatory physical contact was something he had liked to avoid as much as possible. Having his father oversee his progress didn’t really help. The latter thought he could never do any good and ever since Sloane had bestowed the group of commandants' cadets from Arkanis on him, and made it clear the commandant had to convey his teaching techniques to him, tensions were… high.

Nonetheless, he made sure the new cadets were on the top rankings within the then already distributed First Order training curriculum, and tutoring these classes became a routine job.

This time, however, he felt that every little contact filled him with static electricity, although he was absolutely certain that was scientifically impossible. It made him lighter in his touch, doubtful, but also slightly longing to explore the strange responses their physical connection was making. He was slowly becoming aware that he was lingering just a bit too long on her hands, her arm, her shoulder, but he could not let go just yet. Seeing goosebumps form on her lower arm and the fact that he knew he was causing them, made him want to see which other effects he could have on her.

He gulped, all of a sudden conscious that the mysterious effect was starting to become bidirectional. His head felt light,  caused by little sparks popping up in his brain, and his face felt like it was burning. Contradictory, goosebumps formed underneath his clothes. He became aware of how the fabric was rubbing his skin and he couldn't stop thinking about how it would be if it were her warm hands instead.

Hux took a sharp breath and tried to concentrate on the task at hand, forcing his eyebrows into a harsh furrow as much as possible in an effort to hide any other evidence apparent on his features. 

“Remember this position. The stance of your arm will catch up the recoil. Now, try to aim and shoot,” he said sternly, hoping she didn’t hear the slight raspiness of his voice.

The blush on his cheeks refused to subside though, as did the thoughts of exploring her exposed skin some more. So he hastily decided to create some distance between them, before he would do something he might regret. 

Once he regained his wits somewhat, he slowly went to stand behind Miko, trying to march with a steady thread. He hoped she wouldn’t turn around to check on him, because he suspected she could easily notice the result of his state of mind now. 

Stars , this wasn’t the first time she made him lose his cool like this. He hated it, how she threw him off balance, made him feel out of control. 

Miko positioned the blaster as instructed and took a shot. The result wasn’t good, but definitely better than the previous feeble attempt. 

Looking at her stance, there was still some work to do. "Spread your legs a bit more" he added, very much aware that the instruction could be misinterpreted, given the light tremor intruding his spoken words. To his relief, she didn’t say anything about it. Now that he thought about it,  she hadn't looked his way nor spoken for a while now. He wasn’t going to complain about that, thank the stars , but it was curious in comparison to her usual manners. 

“Again, watch your left arm. Compensate.” he instructed, still aware that his voice didn't sound as determined as it usually did. The distance he created slowly made him able to focus again, though. At least enough, so he wouldn't blurt out ridiculous things. Or worse, do something he might regret. 

Again, again, again, he had to repeat for another 10 minutes, and she still wasn’t able to hit the target - and he still wasn’t able to let the unprofessional thoughts dissipate. The only thing he could do for now, was keep them at bay. 

He sighed, thinking about her lack of precision. When a recruit performed this badly, he usually sent them away for maintenance personnel training or something similar. Sanitising duty if he was extra annoyed.

But now, he had to persevere, if only for his own good. On top of that, his mind was still betraying him. It was as if it was sending him little doses of impure ideas, while having to watch her bring up her arms to aim the blaster, the pose exposing her curves more than usual. He repeatedly dictated her to correct her stance, resulting in her pivoting her feet with her usual energetic attitude. The accompanying harsh movements made her butt move in ways he couldn’t divert his gaze from, once he caught sight of it. Every little thing he noticed about her was making the shooting lessons even more of a challenge. But at least, the distance made it possible to subdue those thoughts enough to proceed with the exercise.

After another round of disheartening attempts, Miko hung down her shoulders and let out a frustrated moan, the raw noise bringing Armitage right back to his problematic thoughtlines, but this time much worse. He couldn’t stop the rather lewd visualisation that the sound forcibly pushed into his head. He could feel his blood boiling, his cheeks furiously glowing, fingers tingling as if they've been deprived of blood circulation all the while and oh by the galaxy his pants were becoming tighter…

Of all times, she turned around to face him now, as if she knew what he was going through after that groan of hers. In a haze of panic, Hux swiftly turned on his heels, towards the door, trying to hide the blush and other evidence in the less well lighted area of the loading bridge. 

‘Short break’, he almost whispered, before he left the small hangar space.

Armitage fled to his quarters, for the second time locking the door, leaning onto it. He was acutely aware of the déjà vu, and he knew back then the urge, the want, only increased after he had opened the door. Whenever she got close to him, it was as if his body had a mind on its own. Before, he was able to control himself, but what happened in the hangar was absolutely ludicrous. He needed to get her out of his system, so he could actually instruct her without thinking about trailing his hands over not only her hands and arms, but also her back, trace the muscles there that pull her shoulders back as a response to his fingers, map the bones of her clavicle, watch her throat gulp when he passes there with his thumb, then dipping down slowly, cupping and squeezing her breasts, seeing her shudder under his touch running downwards, working his fingers under the hem of her pants, pulling her closer by her belt and…

Fuck. It was no use.

He was again standing there, up against the door, like a stupid horny lowlife, with a rock hard boner he could hang his greatcoat on. He felt foolish and worthless, not being able to keep his subconscious needs where they should remain: subconscious. He’s a frigging officer of the First Order, he was able to withstand much more triggers than this, mentally taking note that he was taking over her horrible swearing habits as well. Seeing someone act so freely, without any emotional boundaries, was stirring up things deep inside him he couldn't bring to words yet. It was tearing down his carefully built up walls and he wasn’t sure what to think about it. 

But the dick was a serious issue. He still had to finish the training, to give their mission any chance of succeeding.

Frack.  

He snapped open the neck clasp of his uniform and pulled the clothing open with a speed which could damage the material, but right now he couldn’t care less. He clipped open his belt, making sure the thing didn’t clatter on the floor and alarm her. For all he knew, she was standing right behind the door he was leaning onto. Oh by the maker … he shouldn’t have thought about that, an almost painful throb shooting through his cock, which made him lower his pants with a bit more care than the uncharacteristically frenzy he performed on his vest. 

He took himself in his hand, shut his eyelids and debated whether or not he should do this. It’s been a while, he usually pulls so many all-nighters, making him pass out on his blue sofa or in best case in his bed with the datapad on his lap. 

But, by closing his eyes, his wretched imagination took over, taking him back to the hangar and the sounds she let out, suddenly turning into something much more explicit in his imaginary ears. Stars, he hated the fact that he couldn’t control his thoughts from flowing freely, but it was no use - he couldn’t stop the images from popping up. 

A fraction of a second later, he heard the same indecent noise but the scenery was replaced with the one in which she was only in one of his towels. When she was looking for something to wear, a few days ago, bowing down. His towels, his shirt, his… he wanted her to be his to claim… 

He suddenly was standing mere inches from her flushed face, their breath’s mangling when she righted herselves and slowly leaned into him. He started peeling off the plush piece of fabric in his fabricated dream while he automatically started pumping himself, not aware of his ridiculous stance and the cold durasteel on his back. He was so far gone he wouldn’t notice a star exploding. 

Hux didn’t think he still had a few brain cells left for producing imaginary scenarios like this, since he had tried to ignore them for so long. 

But by taking the plunge, they made him dive so deep into his subconsciousness he wasn’t even aware of what was up or down and by the gods of the galaxy he was yearning, yearning for a soft touch, to make her feel good and just feel something in return, feel worthy and content, for once in his life. To be in control of her pleasure, to make her whimper under his touch when he slowly traced her arms and shoulder, like he did in the hangar, her plump breasts, her buttcheeks, every detail of her skin. Just take in the effects he could have on her and feed on them. Greedily take the nape of her neck in his hands and pull her closer to taste her, pulling her legs up and press-

He shuddered, quickly imagining being buried deep down in her, the pressing of his hands on her hips and her neck leaving bruises, and pulling her impossibly closer on his spilling cock.

He opened his eyelids, the light of the room playing tricks on his retina because he squeezed his eyes close too hard. He only then realised his hands were sticky from his cum, coming down from a height he hadn’t been on for a very long time. 

Actually, if he thought about it, he couldn’t have imagined it was ever like this. This…intense… real. Soft? His usual sexual fantasies were definitely not this emotionally loaded and soft. And took a while longer to reach its climax. This was ridiculously improvised.

Now that he was more or less thinking clearly, it made him feel sick.

He was still trying to catch his breath, pondering on why she was doing this to him. How was he going to be able to withstand these urges he never had to keep under control before?

Hux heard some rambling in the wardroom, snapping him out the leftovers of his trance. How long was he standing here against the door? She might start asking questions if I don't get my act together now . He stumbled to the sink, washed up quickly, hastily put on his clothes - hissing when he raked the bacta patch while pulling his pants up - and combed his hair. Then, he double checked his appearance in the mirror, wanting to make sure there was no evidence left of his previous state of distress. 

He took a deep breath, put his head up high and took long strikes to the door. This time, he wouldn’t allow himself to get distracted.

He just entered the wardroom and noticed Miko walking towards the cockpit, datapad and some rubbish in both hands. 

What is she up to? Again?  

Armitage followed her wake, both annoyed by her sudden and unauthorised action and curious what got into her head this time. When he arrived, that droid and she were doing something at the comm unit and didn't look at him entering. 

"All set and done. You should be able to connect to my commlink now!” She exclaimed with a smile, signalling him that she did notice his arrival.

"The new identification code they provided us with is also installed. Your ship should be listed as a cargo vessel right now." She happily mentioned, after she placed her hands on her hips.

Hux sighed, glad a practical conversation might make him forget about what he just wanted to do to her, and replied: "Let's hope no one wants to actually check it out, because one glance from an enthusiastic republican will get us into trouble." Miko quickly turned her head towards him. “We should’ve painted the ship in a happy colour, you’re right. Like, bright orange.” she whispered in a secretive way. 

He cocked his eyebrow, not sure what to do with her comment. 

”Kidding Hux, I don’t have a death wish. Although I don’t know if death at your hands would be worse than whatever we’re facing next.” she said smilingly, turning back to the controls. 

Hux gulped and decided not to react to that comment. He was content to hear she didn’t underestimate him, but he did just think about fucking her with his hands on her neck and now… he decided the weapons controls needed to be checked. 

Any distraction would do.

After a short pause, she righted her back and said to him: “I'm done here. Up for round 2?” 

He harshly turned his attention to her, slightly confused and already sweating under his collar, the sentence having a completely different meaning in his ears. Before he could actually register what she was really talking about, she exclaimed “I’ll be in the hangar” and turned around with a slightly bubbly attitude. 

He sighed again and followed her wake, keeping enough distance. He wasn’t going to get tricked by his hormones twice.

The training session went on for another 30 standard minutes. Hux kept his distance and was able to find back his instructor mode, and even keep any unwanted distractions to a minimum. They kept going, until she was able to automatically pull, aim and shoot. Actually hitting a target was beneath any standards, but for the approaching rendezvous, just having the movement in her physical memory would have to suffice. 

The proximity alarm went off, signalling their arrival. The duo stopped their activities. Miko holstered the blaster, put PC on her back, and followed in Hux’ shadow towards the cockpit.

A/N: Shields breaking, walls cracking… next time, maybe teeth colliding? Who knows…

#general hux x oc #armitage hux x oc #armitage hux smut #star wars fanfiction #generalginger #gingergeneral #lemonginger #general hux #armitage hux #star wars fic #sw fanfic #sw fic

[10ths-writing-corner]

Whumptober #10- Poor unfortunate souls

Btw this is all because of @geekyfox2, blame them

“Stop squirming, I’m only trying to help.” Jackie snapped, both hands holding down Henrik by the wrists. Holding him down against the dirty surgical table. Henrik kept frantically trying to pull away, but his efforts were futile against the hero’s strength. Icy blue eyes stare wide open with fear, tears welling when fingers squeeze his already injured wrist to the point he can feel his bones beginning to give. He saw Jackie. Jackie was staring down on him, his indigo eyes holding malicious intent… Nothing like the light and kindness the hero always irradiates…

That was not Jackie.

Not when he had that twisted grin plastered on his face. But he couldn’t help but to hope this was some sort of joke, that his friend would stop this horrible prank and just carry him away from this nightmare. That’s what the irrational part of the brain thought.

“You are not him. Y-You are not h-him. You— You are not—“ Henrik kept repeating like a mantra, though a short yet sharp scream erupts from him when electricity shoots through his body. His body spasms uncontrollably, and he can already feel himself slipping from consciousness from the unbearable pain. Though, before that can happen Jackie let’s go of him and the shock disappear. Henrik takes shallow breaths, his eyes dazed from the pain. He can’t feel any of his limbs, he knew the hero wasn’t holding him down and he could’ve escaped. Run away from him. But the more he tried to move, the less his limbs responded to him.

“Doesn’t that feel so much better?” Jackie whispered, his gloved hand caressing Henrik’s bruised cheek. The doctor wanted to pull away, and he only hoped in his eyes it showed how repulsed he felt by the touch. “You’re safe with me, Hen. I’m gonna keep you safe.” The impostor Jackie whisper with so much security, it almost made Henrik lower his guard, almost forget in the predicament he found himself. He almost begged for him to take him away from here, is the thing he wanted the most…

But of course it was all lies.

Before Henrik knew it, a wet rag was smacked on his face and panic is soon to take over. He couldn’t see, and at this point it might be a good thing. Though, what comes next has Henrik screaming. Ice cold water splashed on his face, and he can’t breathe. He’s choking and coughing and gagging trying to grasp a gulp full of air.

“Sto— Stop! Leave—!” Henrik begs hoarsely, coughing the little water that did go down his windpipe. The impostor then removes the wet rag, a distraught look on his face.

“Leave? You’ve been begging for me to come save you. And here I am, keeping you safe…” Jackie sneers, his upper lip now twitching with disgust. “You are nothing but a selfish man. You deserve this. You don’t deserve to be saved.”

He knows what he’s saying is a lie. Jackie would never say such things to him. He would never. He wouldn’t hurt him… he wouldn’t. Nonetheless, the words stab him like knives through the heart. “Y-You are not Jackie.”

There’s silence around them, and at that moment Henrik can feel the pressure of the demon suffocating him as it seeps through his facade. All he can do is close his eyes, and soon hears static humming close to him. His hairs stand on their end, and his breathing quickens alongside his heart. A whip cracks, the sound making him horribly flinch and shake in fear.

“You should’ve listen to the hero, puppet. You should’ve just let him save you…”

Tag list

~~~~~~~~~~~

@dmnfox @number1120 @chey-doodles @randowaffle @caesardoe @itsonlyparker @definitely-asexual-volcano @potatoarenice @lilsprout-exe @lildevyl @gotta-get-that-pma @hellspctre @justaninnocentstudent @anon-jameson @droid-dreamerr @glitchyartist @antis-gauge @ghostofodellion @miishae @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @innocent-angel3 @mysterio-is-the-truth @synder-sync @n-anon @immabethehero @fankayart @k--sm

#jacksepticeye #jse community #henrik von schneeplestein #dr. schneeplestein #dr schneeplestein #jackieboy man #Antisepticeye #whump #angst #tw torture #torture tw #nine months #whumptober #whumptober2022 #no. 10 #poor unfortunate souls #writers of jack

[byeler]

byeler 19 👀

hi logan!! i obviously was NOT ignoring this prompt for two years and was just waiting to post it for your birthday!! i did not just finish ten minutes ago and have had this planned as your birthday surprise bc i'm great at planning and writing and i never forget about prompts or put them off for two years. anyway happy birthday!! ily

19. …for luck.

The world is burning again.  

The world turns as easily as it catches flame, another year passing and igniting in disaster, monsters and magic and mayhem destroying whatever remnants of normalcy they’d clung to in the moments before their forceful reminder of what waited beneath them. 

But before there was hope, a childlike wonder in the fantasy world they’d discovered they lived in, the wild dream that for whatever dark side they were fighting, there was a light side to be found as well. There was still a chance for the heroes to win, for goodness to prevail, for the monsters to fall and villains to surrender. 

That was before they captured her. 

The fire burns around them.  

Mike follows Will outside the house where everyone else sits in blank horror, too empty to think. The warm living room light spills out onto the dark yard, catching the side of Will’s jaw in a sharp glint. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, grabbing at Will’s sleeve and pulling him to a stop.  

He turns and the answer is written on his face, but it’s the wrong answer to the wrong question. Mike knows where Will is going. He’s asking how to stop him from going. 

“El needs me.” 

And his words make Mike’s breaths seize, because she’s gone she’s gone oh god she’s gone what are they going to do she’s gone— 

“And you’re gonna do what?” he asks, his grip tightening on his shirt. “Just run off on your own? We need a plan, something better—” 

Will stares at him with empty determination. “I’m the only one who can do this.” 

“This is crazy, Will. It’s suicide! We don’t know what we’re walking into. Just—” he huffs, his hand slipping down Will’s arm. “I mean, just come back inside—” 

“No,” he says and electricity thrums through the air, the high pitched tinny of television static vibrating between them. Mike jumps, dropping Will’s wrist and staring at him.  

Something shifts. Mike nods.  

“Okay.” He swallows and it scratches down his throat. “Okay. Just promise me you’ll come back.”  

Will shoved his hands into his pockets, mouth twisting as he glances out over the empty yard. “I—” 

“Will.” 

He looks directly in Mike’s eyes.“I’m going to get her back.” 

“And you’re going to come back, too.” 

He does not respond. 

“Will.” 

“I’m going to do whatever it takes. I’m going to put a stop this this. I’m going to save my sister.” 

“And you’re going to come back.” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I can’t—” His breath comes out in short gasps, and he finally lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Will. “I can’t lose you, too.” 

Will’s arms find their way back around him, and they stand in the dim glow of the porch light, gripping onto each other with a strange sort of desperation.  

It’s instinct to grab him, but it’s a choice to keep holding on, and it’s selfish, because he knows it’s the only thing keeping him here. He knows Will will not be the first to let go. 

“Mike,” he says, and it’s a warning and a plea but he doesn’t move away, his breath ghosting over his neck. Mike’s heart thrums against his chest in a blaze of panic, the knowledge that if he lets go he may not ever get to hold him again tightening his grip.  

“Okay. You’re going to save her. And you’re going to come back.” 

Will does not respond, because Will does not make false promises, but he nods one single time. It means he’s going to try. It’s not enough. Mike prays it will be anyway.  

“I can come with you,” he tries, desperate and hopeful all at once. “Let me come, we’ll figure out a way—” 

For the first time, Will smiles, small and sorrowful. “You know you can’t.” 

“Still, I could at least get you there, wait for you, make sure nothing happens—” 

“You’re better off here. You can keep everyone safe.” 

The truth in his words stings the worst. He is useless to Will, useless in this fight, unable to provide anything but worry and terror.  

Will covers his fear in a blanket of stoicism. He’s only ever needy until someone needs him more, until Mike’s fears outweigh his own and he has to straighten his shoulders and put on a brave face and march to certain death.  

There’s a certain power to him as he rolls his shoulders back and turns. “Be safe,” he says, and walks without hesitating.  

You’ll never see him again, he thinks, and the thought makes it impossible to breathe. You’ll never see him again. He’s walking away and you will never seen him again. You are never going to see him again.  

Fear seizes his chest and claws viciously at it, his heart creaking under the stress. He takes a few strides after him, reaching out and taking his wrist again. 

“Wait. Will.” He doesn’t shout it. He doesn’t have the courage to. 

He’s missing something. He has to be. There has to be a way, there has to be something, anything, to make sure Will comes back. There’s always a solution. He has to find it. 

“Mike, I need to go.” 

“I know, just—”  

“I’ll be careful.” It sounds like a lie.  

“Yeah. And you’re going to come back.” 

“I—” He refuses to look him in the eye. “You know I can’t promise that.” 

It’s not the right answer. Something’s still missing. He needs to come back. He has to come back. What is he going to do without him? He has to come back. 

There’s so much he needs to say. He doesn’t know how.  

He grabs Will by the shoulders. A breath passes between them, and he leans his head in until their foreheads touch.  

This is stupid. He’s being stupid, he knows, trying to stop Will from going to her. As if he could stop the sun from rising. As if he could stop the world from turning. As if he could ever keep the two of them from saving each other.  

He tries to focus on Will’s breathing, counting the spaces between them, until Will starts to untangle his grip. “Mike—” 

But Mike can’t stand to hear another excuse, another deflection, another reason why he has to sit by and watch his best friend sacrifice himself and takes it upon himself to silence him the only way he can think of.  

Except he doesn’t think about it, not really. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to kiss him, to wrap his hands around Will’s cheeks and pull him in, to press their lips together in one soft, swift motion.  

It’s the easiest thing he’s ever done, and it doesn’t even surprise him when Will pushes back up into him, his hands wrapping into Mike’s shirt. It seems so simple, like there’s couldn’t be anything more natural, and the only thing Mike can possibly think in the moment is that he can’t ever, ever stop.  

Because the second he stops, Will will be gone. 

He wonders, briefly, if it would be possible to keep him here forever if he never stopped kissing him. It’s selfish, he knows, because there’s so much more at stake, but he can’t help but think how easy it would be to hold onto this one, final thing, to keep Will safe one moment longer, by just kissing him one more time.  

He can’t do it, of course. But he wonders all the same. 

When he finally pulls back, Will blinks at him, mouth still gaping slightly from where Mike left. 

“I don’t know,” Mike says automatically, before he has a chance to ask. “I just…I don’t know, okay?” 

“Okay,” Will says, concern and something dangerous mixed in his eyes. 

“I just—” he tries again, tugging his fingers angrily though his own hair. “I can’t lose you, okay? You can’t just expect me to sit here and wait while you just fuck off to go die, Will. It’s not fair! It’s not fair that we have to do this, and it’s not fair that they took El, and it’s not fair that now you’re gonna go sacrifice yourself to save her, and it’s shit and it’s just—I don’t know. So you come back, I guess. For luck, or something. I don’t know. I just—I can’t lose you, okay?” 

Will nods slowly, taking it all in. The weight of the night air crushes down around them, heavy and humid as the moments pass by. Finally, he reaches out and takes Mike’s hand in his, squeezing so hard he thinks his fingers are going to snap. “Okay,” he says again. 

“Okay?” 

He shakes his head, sighing. “Mike, I have to go.” 

“Okay. Just, please—”  

Before he can finish, Will pushes up on his toes and presses their lips back together for a brief, breathless moment.  

When they break back apart, Will does not let him speak. “I have a sister to save,” he says, straightening himself back up. Mike only nods, watching as he turns and begins to walk.  

“Good luck,” Mike says, so soft he’s not even sure Will can hear.  

But sure enough, Will looks back over his shoulder and nods. “I’ll see you soon,” he says.  

He leaves, and the world ends in flames.  

#byler #byeler #byler fic #stranger things #st #fr fr happy birthday logan i hope you enjoy #also if anyone asks me for any details abt this........dont #zero context zero world building just vibes people!!! #when does this take place? who gives a fuck!! #why is el in danger?? who took her??? #who knows!! not me!!!! #meanwhile el sitting in imminent danger somewhere while her brother and ex make out: 👁👄👁 #my writing