#they'd keep pushing and shoving each other to get to stuff

[neverpathia]

genuinely. i think that once cheated and razor get past their difficulties (which, in all fairness, would probably take two eternities and one multiversal apocalypse or something), they'd actually be kind of like bickering siblings always trying to one-up each other.

i mean, the violence aspect is always there, but homicide would probably just count as a normal Tuesday at that point.

[lxcke]

My Hancock Headcanons

Some of these are a little OOC from the game but I'm rewriting the Commonwealth to have darker and more realistic overtones. 1.9k words.

Can't bring himself to take Daytripper anymore. The euphoric effects hooked him hard for a while and it's one of the reasons why he used to do benders so much.

Doesn't wear the red frock coat while out adventuring because he can't bear the thought of getting it burned up or ruined.

Some hair follicles survived on the top of his head and there are tiny tufts of platinum silver hair that grow in. He lost his hair pigment in the ghoulification process, and they fall out or break off before the strands can get very long as it's very brittle.

Tries to one-hand his double-barrel shotgun like a flintlock pistol and regularly messes up his wrist joint because of the kickback.

His eyes appear pitch black, but if you look closely or shine a light on them, you'll notice that his eyes are actually just a really, really dark red from burst blood vessels (radiation poisoning side-effect). In some areas where the black hasn't taken over, there are broken flecks of grey in there.

Hancock is a caffeine junkie.

He deals with fatigue and arthritis from ghoulification (his bones did not take kindly to the radiation.) The pain lessens during radstorms, where he feels incredibly rejuvenated, and often hyper.

Favors Mentats and Jet because they're "less heavy" chems. He takes the Mentats to help himself properly fulfil the role as a responsible mayor. Long-term use has led to him learning a lot in a short time span, leading to his extremely high INT stat.

He favors Jet because it helps sooth the fire in his brain after overdoing work on Mentats. They balance each other out.

Used to wear a lot of jewelry and had piercings in his youth but found out the hard way that they snag during a fight, so they had to go.

Keeps his switchblade(s) in his boot.

Was taught how to sew by his mom as a kid and is now the guy everyone goes to when they end up with holes in their clothes. He keeps his John Hancock getup in good condition.

Isn't a huge fan of swimming. He can swim but it makes him feel incredibly uneasy. He needs his boots on the ground.

Bad temperature regulation. He gets cold at a slight breeze and hot on a sunny day. His tricorn hat keeps the sun off of him.

Some people headcanon that he has heightened senses, but I beg to differ. The dude has bad vision. He uses a shotgun so it's harder to miss. You'll often catch him squinting at documents and terminals. He knows the smell of specific chemicals like the back of his hand, but he doesn't necessarily pick up scents "better."

E.g. you'll both catch a whiff of something weirdly metallic, and he just pops off with, "ah, yes, Psychojet with a little too much jet saturation and a smidge of black mold in the container. Feelin' bad for whoever just took that; that's some low-quality stuff."

Back in his human days, he was a degenerate junkie back in Diamond City. He was a sleazeball with high charisma; let's just leave it at that.

DC guards would regularly sweep him off the curb near the Dugout Inn or bust him selling chems to the locals behind the stands.

As alluded to in the game dialogue, Hancock would go on benders in Goodneighbor and would often shack up with the locals. He used sex as an escape almost as frequently as chems. He has a lot of experience due to this, but he also has his fair share of "horror stories."

He's now a lot pickier about who he shares a mattress with, but whoever gets lucky with Hancock? Say goodbye to your dignity because he will systematically destroy that shit just because he feels like it.

Gave the player character chems so they'd get hooked and be dependent on him to provide. He was buying insurance so they wouldn't betray him if push came to shove. He also just wanted a smoke buddy for the road.

Hancock is a selfish person. He wears the "easygoing helpful stoner friend" persona to try and make right for his previous sins. "Hancock" is the good guy face. "John" is a cynical bastard.

Only his closest, most trusted friends will ever call him John or see that side of him.

Often can't sit still and has sensory-seeking tendencies (just a smidge touch of the ADHD. Could be a side effect of chem-usage as well.)

As a young child, he grew up in a waterfront cabin with his older brother and mother. His father was a drifter and was rarely seen. John can't remember his name or face well, but his mom is a shining star in his memory.

John falls back into the Daytripper habit after finding out his brother was replaced with a synth. The player character pulls him out of it if they're close enough. If not, he keeps it quiet. Nobody will notice, right?

His eyes are very mirror-like and have that "red-eye glow" effect when a bright light is directed at him. Sometimes, in the heat of battle, one can literally see the fire reflected back in his eyes. It's high-key freaky.

Has the subtle air of inhumanity about him. He sometimes moves in a way that makes you question if he's real or not (e.g. standing way too still, movements too rigid or too fluid.) He's probably just really high when this happens.

Riffing off some dialogue from the game, Hancock has been dealing with hallucinations all his life. He blames it on the chems, but he's too afraid to admit he's probably just a tad psychotic from wasteland living. This is also a known PTSD symptom, which he won't touch on the subject of with a ten-foot pole.

"You see 'em, too?" he says jokingly whilst sweating bullets.

When he gets particularly high, one might catch him listening to some very strange experimental jazz. He'll never admit to this.

Riffing off of Danny Shorago's beautiful musical performances, this dude can absolutely slam out vocals like a pro. Isolation in the wasteland leads to completely useless talents. He absentmindedly sung along to Diamond City radio to himself one too many times and well, one thing led to another...

Took over for Magnolia at the Third Rail on one of her off days. Never did it again. Will never mention it happened.

Attention whore and heavily ashamed of it. He stabbed a guy in the first ten seconds of meeting the player character, but if you tell him he was showing off, he'll deny it.

Will happily bum a preserved cigarette off of the player character if they have any.

He has nine toes and walks a little funny because of it. Jack Sparrow with a limp.

Was not raised in the era of soap. Due to the game labeling soap as junk, Hancock will ridicule the player character for picking it up. He doesn't understand what it is; it just looks like a stick of lard to him.

Doesn't use soap (dirty wastelander behavior.) He keeps two pine-scented car fresheners hanging on the inside of his coat. He calls them "coat fresheners."

The sweat glands in his skin were burned off so he doesn't smell incredibly bad, there's just this weird dusty ozone smell to him... he'll take a dip in the river to get the grime off, but he doesn't like how cold it makes him afterwards.

Standard sex-education does not exist in the wasteland. It's incredibly rare to meet a wastelander who views sex as recreational, and not a clinical way to make as many babies as possible. It's also incredibly rare to meet a wastelander with any kind of clue of what they're doing in bed. This makes Hancock a literal gem, and it's probably why he has so much sway with the people. Per Bobbi No-Nose: "Everyone is so damn afraid of him or so damn in love with him. He thinks he is invincible."

Slams Dirty Wastelanders like they are water. He has a specific taste for mutfruit and sweet drinks.

Fahrenheit is indeed Hancock's daughter, but she was a bastard "oopsie baby" he didn't find out about until she was well in her adulthood. She's not inclined to tell him, nor does he want to acknowledge it. He was never a father to her, and she knows he doesn't want to be... not that she cares. They stick together out of an awkward unspoken need to make sure the other stays alive, though. Neither of them have the willpower to bring it up to each other.

Her mother was a fling situation with a cute ginger in some small settlement miles from Goodneighbor back before he was a ghoul. Count on his surprise when a particularly fierce ginger girl shows up on his doorstep many years later sporting his bright grey eyes looking for a job. What was he supposed to do, tell her to get lost?

Has an under-the-table deal with the Railroad and allows them to operate in Goodneighbor. Has a disdain for Deacon though, because his first language is bullshit, and Hancock's first language is "rooting out bullshit."

Food of choice is wherever the munchies lead him. The few things he can't stomach usually fall into the category of "200 years old." He'll eat bug if it's cooked well enough; anything that can be hunted or picked as a crop is on the menu. Salvaged food, though? Like the dusty remains of Sugar Bombs or unrefrigerated Salsbury Steak? He couldn't be paid to eat those.

Leave it to the player character to introduce him to spices and seasoning. Like any wastelander would, Hancock sort of turns into a rabid, frothing dog at good cooking.

He spends his leisure nights at the Third Rail among his people.

Reliving his memories at the Memory Den has led to some rather intense experiences. His frequent usage of Mentats has led to a rather interesting side-effect of being able to hyper-analyze what he has seen while using one of the machines. He has used this to his advantage by going over encounters he's had with various gang leaders or political interactions with settlement leaders.

He's able to catch details using this method that many others fail to. He is frequently one step ahead of the game.

Liver failure was beginning to catch up to him before he went ghoul. Now, the symptoms have miraculously vanished... he takes full advantage of this.

In a particularly bad moment in his life, Hancock once seriously considered cannibalism. It's made him weary of the dangers of hunger, so he always has some sort of snack on-hand or at least nearby. He's a very, "you do what you gotta" person, but it personally scares the shit out of him when the scarcity of the world corners him.

He made a pact with Fahrenheit to shoot him if he ever showed the warning signs of going feral. It gives him a little peace knowing he won't end up wandering the streets in a confused, violent stupor one day, but the looming deterioration from his ghoulish nature keeps him up at night, sometimes. He knows the day will come eventually.

"No warning, no fuss. Don't tell me, just do it. Got a plan to keep your name clear in the event my peeps want to know why you eighty-sixed their beloved mayor."

[lilacgaby]

Firstly I wanna say I love your writing and although I’m very new to your page I’m OBSESSED 🤩

This is my first request ever so I hope I’m doing this correctly. ANYWAYS- I was hoping for like an ice hockey au where it’s like bakugou playing midoroya’s team and bakugou doesn’t like the way deku is looking at reader in the stands even though bakugou and readers relationship isn’t public and they fight and all that good stuff.

Thanks I totally appreciate you! Hope you’re well and have a great day!!

title: iced out.

pairing: hockeyplayer!bakugo x girlfriend!reader

"he'll need an ice pack when i'm done with him."

note: my love you're so smart omgg, i loved this au! ty for the support i hope this is a good read <3

it was the match up of the season.

everyone knew of the rivalry between bakugo and midoriya, every match they'd have would end in shoves, bloodied noses, bruises, and cards called. the audience was thankful for the dividers that kept them safe from the confrontations that would always break out in corners, bakugo usually pushing midoriya away forcefully into them just to get control of the puck.

you were there at that match for katsuki after the matches, waiting outside the locker rooms to drive home. you knew first hand just how much he wanted to win against midoriya. he'd confessed to you how they used to be close friends, but after midoriya 'lied' about getting excepted into an overseas junior team, he had been ostracized from katsuki's life.

they hadn't faced each other since last season, the bracket hadn't allowed for it. until today.

you, katsuki's girlfriend since before he got drafted into a team, were pepping him up before the first interval. his teammates already knew about you, but the public didn't.

katsuki preferred in this way, he thought. saying "those damn publicists would shove cameras and mics down our throats if they knew." you didn't mind either way, the bile of jealousy at every woman who thought they had a chance with katsuki going away after multiple times of him cursing them out.

katsuki had never had to experience that though, not until today.

you were in the stands, the front row of one of the many sections in the rink. it was a full house today, but you stood out because of your limited edition jersey given to you by katsuki himself.

while the practice period was going on, he was calming himself down. his coach had told him that a clear head is all he needed to beat midoriya into a pulp, or something like that. 'easy shit.' he thought.

but like a shark who smelled blood, his pupils dilated severely as he saw him throwing a puck to you. you caught it, raising your hand to thank him and you let an appreciative smile, flipping it over to see his number on the back of it (how did he even write that?). at your shocked expression, he laughed.

and he had the audacity to make a phone sign with his hand after?

oh, he was gonna need to call someone once bakugo was done with him, he was sure of it.

the promise of calm was gone as fast as it came, an impossibly angrier katsuki coming back as he finished warm ups.

at the sound of the timer, katsuki played aggressive. the first 20 minutes was full of this mentally. he was rushing in and hitting, shoving anyone in his way. he 'accidentally' launched the puck into midoriya's helmet at the fifteen minute mark.

the teams managed to stay even though, but katsuki was scoring a majority of the points for his team. the only thing in his way was midoriya, like always.

midoriya, who kept his eyes locked on you while the puck wasn't in play. who kept waving to his fans, but sending winks to you.

katsuki had decided to murder him. or rather, his team.

he hit another puck in easily, already having the game be the highest scoring one in the league for the year. midoriya managed to match one up again, barely keeping on his heels.

the score was now 5-5, katsuki wanted to finish it in this interval. going into a sudden death overtime would just be too tiring.

they were tied again with only 2 minutes left on the clock. all it took was midoriya to eye you again, that was enough to spite bakugo.

with a minute left he finally got control of the puck, as midoriya got in his way. katsuki predicted a fake out, and sent the puck flying with a curve.

as the keeper missed, and with 3 seconds left.

he scored.

the arena cheered, the cameras caught on midoriya's smirk and small claps, the pissed off looks from midoriya's teammates, and the celebration of katsuki's team.

they had to play again to let the puck slide for 3 seconds, out of courtesy, but katsuki took a victory lap, looking straight at you.

the second he was free he walked straight through the rink, much to his manager's dismay. this caught the attention of the media, who had all eyes on him. he saw none of it, passing by fans without a care in the world as he grabbed your face and kissed you, making you drop the puck.

midoriya was seen with an 'ohhh' expression on his face as the rink went crazy, flashes all in your faces as katsuki pulled back, hips lips now smeared with your lip gloss. you two were on the jumbotron, and you awkwardly waved as the attention was focused on you two suddenly.

"didn't i tell you so? these losers are breathing down our throats."

"yeah, oh my god kats' your eye!" you gasped as you saw the bruise starting to form over his eye.

he wore a stupid smirk on his face as you fussed over him. his eyes squinted as he saw the rival team give themselves 'good luck next times' and 'we'll get em back's. midoriya in particular was being the captain as always, cheering up his team though occasionally looking back at you. katsuki sneered, he won the game and the girl! take that deku.

"why do you have that dumbass look on your face?"

"hah?! my face isn't dumb woman!"

[lexithwrites]

bartylily nsfw..? 🤭

nsfw below of course (minor TW for this, other than smut there is some pain kink stuff going on, nothing major just slapping, scratching and hair pulling, as well as degradation)

If you asked one of her closest friends, Lily Evans would be described as someone with ambition. A motherly figure. Someone who wanted her friends and loved ones to succeed. That she was headstrong, smart, fierce and loyal. But above all else, they'd tell you that she had extremely high standards when it came to men and relationships.

She wasn't going to settle, she refused. She had dealt with a handful of men in her dating history that never took her seriously, didn't treat her how she expected to be treated, nor did they ever, ever care about her needs. They were selfish. They assumed that because she was a woman she'd want to kneel at their feet and obey. No, Lily Evans wasn't a dog they could teach to sit or fetch.

She'd much prefer to be the one holding the leash.

Which is why it was her shoving Barty Crouch up against the brick wall and putting her hand in his jeans, not the other way around. Barty wouldn't manhandle her like that, but getting manhandled? Sure. Any day of the week. Lily pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him something fierce; she wanted him to feel her touch and taste burn into his skin. She wanted him to remember her in the morning.

"Fuck, Evans...you that horny for me?" He choked out, still managing that cocky smile as she cupped him over his boxers and squeezed.

"You know how this goes, Barty." She panted, shivering when his wandering hands found her ass and kneaded it. "We don't need to talk to each other."

"Thought you liked my mouth?" He moaned, rocking his hips forward when she started to stroke his half-hard cock, the tip already leaking pre-cum.

"I like my mouth when it's being put to good use." Lily reminded him, reaching up with her free hand to press two fingers against Barty's tongue, forcing it to come out like a dog panting. He let her do it, he'd always let her. Barty grinned, starting to drool over himself. "You're so dirty, you know."

He nodded, dumbly. His brain was starting to switch off at having his mouth forced open and his cock touched, and he didn't care about anything else in the world but her right now. She was too good at this, actually. The whole...sexy, red-haired dominatrix thing. It was exactly his type and he was a complete loser when she was around, but he liked it. Loved it, even. He wanted to be a good boy for Lily, that's all.

"You want me to get you off here? In this alley? Our friends are inside and they think we're out here smoking. Any of them could come looking, Barty." She whispered, leaning close to his ear as she manoeuvred her hand into his boxers to touch him properly. He whimpered, more drool running down his chin. "What do you want?"

"To get off." He said, although it wasn't that coherent with fingers in his mouth. Lily smiled and started trailing kisses up his neck. She was trying to kill him, he realised in the haze. She's actually trying to kill him right now. Cold blooded murder. But it still felt so good.

"I can get you off, love." She cooed. "Are you going to be a good boy and keep quiet for me?" Barty nodded again and she nipped at his neck. "Good." Her hand moved faster, gripping him and twisting her wrist on the upstroke around the head. Barty's thighs trembled and his eyes rolled back into his head. How this woman could make him feel this way he'd never know. She somehow knew him better than he knew himself. "That's it, there you go honey...just feel good for me. It's all you're good for, isn't it? Being touched like this...letting me use you."

Barty whined and bucked his hips again, earning a light slap on his cheek with wet fingers. "I'm sorry, holy fuck that feels so good—"

"Barty." Lily warned.

"M'sorry, fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, please keep going! I'll be good! I'll shut up and I'll be a good boy, I'll be such a good boy for you, oh jesus christ just like that—"

Lily smiled against his skin but didn't say anything this time. She had to admit, hearing him beg was starting to make her clench her thighs together. Barty was fun to play with, but she really did want to make him feel good. In her own strange, dominating way. They had only been doing this for a few months but she'd memorised all the little things he liked hearing her say, all the things he wanted her to do to him. Pull his hair mostly, and she reached up to tug his head back as she sucked a mark onto his throat—her hand speeding up when she heard him let out a guttural moan. He was close.

"M'fuck—" he grabbed her hips as she nuzzled her nose into his cheek.

"You can cum, it's okay. It's okay, honey. Good boy." Within seconds, Barty tipped over the edge. Lily worked him through it, staring up at his face as he scrambled against the wall and then gulped.

"Jesus...you're a fucking freak." He was grinning from ear to ear. Lily felt herself smiling too. "You're coming home with me, right?"

"I have to get my bag." She told him as she wiped her sticky hand onto his shirt. He didn't even flinch, nor did she. It was routine.

"Fuck the bag, I'll buy you another one."

"Tempting, but I want my stuff. Just wait here, alright?" She was about to walk back into the club when Barty tilted his head. "What?"

"You...I didn't say it earlier because I thought you'd make fun of me, and for once I didn't want you too, but you look gorgeous, Lil." He gave her a new smile then, something small and sincere and...innocent. She flushed. Barty actually made her lost for words. "I'll be here and we can go to mine. Can do that thing you like with my tongue." He licked his lips.

And he's back.

[anonmousegosqueak]

I don't need much, I just need-

Gaz and Red relaxing at the park.

It had been a long mission. It was pure luck they even all survived, especially Soap. God- the tunnels? If the captain had been a hair slower than that cunt Makarov would have put a bullet through Soap's skull.

But that's all over now.

Makarov is dead.

The world is just that little bit safer.

Everyone was kicked out pretty quickly. Gaz had gotten a pat on the back, a quick 'g'job' from Price, and then he was shoving Red into the car to head back to their flat. Soap had headed out the earliest, dragging Ghost right along after him, and Price had confirmed he was also taking leave just a few days later.

The trip was honestly plenty of fun by itself. Not exactly restful, but it definitely helped put their minds off the most recent events. Singing along to some trashy pop together at an obnoxiously loud volume really did help.

They had spent the first few days just relaxing and catching up on sleep.

Kyle had called Soap, sent Price a few cute pictures of Red as well. As much as he tried to act like it was for the others, it was more for him than anything else. He likes keeping up with the others- knowing that they were alive and well. Besides, it gave him an excuse to make sure he didn't get too soft while on leave.

Pretty soon though, the comfort wore off.

They were happy, sure, but Red was getting visibly jumpy and wired from being cooped up. They'd never liked staying indoors for long, much preferring some fresh air rather than rotting inside all day. And honestly? Gaz wasn't much better off. He needed to head to the gym, to work off some of that energy through exercise. It'd always been something that helped him relax, just turning off his mind and lifting weights or running on the treadmill. Some found it tiring to go to the gym every day, he found the opposite to be true.

So they made a plan.

Every morning, before things got too crowded, they'd hop in the car and head to the park for a nice run outside. Red got their nature, Kyle got his exercise. And they both got each other's company.

Sometimes Red wouldn't run the whole time, choosing to instead stay back by the pond and waiting for Kyle. The latter only let them stay behind after taking their lighter to make sure they didn't do anything illegal.

Today though, Kyle had something planned.

"wha's that?"

He had tossed an extra bag into the car, having packed it earlier while Red was still in the shower.

"nothin', just been meaning to put it in the car. Y' got your shoes on?"

"mhm."

The pair made it to the park, the morning air still crisp and light. Kyle didn't waste any time before dragging Red away from the path and twords the lake.

Despite their confusion (and very loudly informing him about this fact), Kyle didn't say anything. He simply came to a stop, pulled out a blanket, and then sat Red down.

Oh.

He didn't wait for much longer, taking out the pairs morning breakfast and setting it across the blanket with such care. It's clear he had been planning this for a while, easy to transport food items, tea in thermoses, he even brought some frozen peas to feed the ducks!

And to tie it all together, a flower placed in Red's hair.

Red didn't say much else, too focused on the warm feeling in their chest. Kyle didn't push them either, more focused on ripping up one of the sandwiches into bite sized pieces so he could feed them.

The air wasn't so cold anymore, full of a different feeling.

Home.

Haha. OC go brrr. Not proofread (very little of my stuff is lmao) because I'm about to pass out.

[starreo]

thank god for you,

satoru.

cw: eventual smut, fear of dying without having lived. thank you my sweetest ever, @n-agiz for beta reading this :( big kissi

if it wasn't for you, i'd probably still be feeling empty inside. if it wasn't for you, i'd probably never have known that you could have fun in so many ways. if it wasn't for you, i'd have lived such a boring life. which is why, i thank god for you.

each time i get snapchat notifications with the multiple memories we made in those few months, i think of you.

live fast, die young was a concept, completely foreign to me. raised by slightly strict parents, i'd shaped into an adult who would never take unnecessary risks. always playing it safe, never doing something without thinking twice.

until i met you on that train ride to my uncle's place in the city. i wasn't expecting you to talk to me, and i wasn't expecting myself to talk to you. yet, we spoke for hours, laughing and slightly shoving each other, going as far as to exchange numbers so that we could get in contact sometime. i only realized just how much i enjoyed my normally boring trip to uncle's house. for the first time, i didn't think twice, sending you a message almost as soon as i got into bed. and you replied almost instantly too.

i smiled at your message asking if you could call instead. and there began the journey of me learning to live my life.

every day was a different event. we'd go up to the hills, snowboarding from down there, you'd tightly adjust the helmet on my head, telling me it's good to try out new things, after all, we get just one life. your bright blue eyes made mine shine for the first time. a rapid beating in my heart, still not sure whether it was from the adrenaline of the sport or the feelings i harbored for you in that short time. regardless, they made me feel so excited.

we'd grab quick lunches, a bagel or a croissant, takeaway stuff, because you would always say, life is too short to be sitting in a fancy restaurant, and not being able to enjoy truly. we'd bite into our food, you'd keep blabbering, always biting your tongue and then crying about it.

and i'd kiss you, for the first time, touching another's lips. looking up into your eyes, better now? and you'd nod hurriedly, making me giggle as you smashed your lips against mine.

we'd go fishing in a boat, a can of worms near your feet as you laughed at my terrified reaction. you'd show me how to wrap the worms around the hook, and wait patiently till the string started to vibrate. as i held the rod, you'd stand behind me, whispering in my ear like the fish could hear us, take your time with it, but don't miss it. when you said that, i thought you weren't just talking about fishing. all your words seemed so casual on the surface, however, when thought about, they'd be so deep.

we'd take showers in your house from falling into the water after you got startled by a worm crawling on your hand and turned the boat over. you would apologize profusely, feeling regretful, and i'd tell you, life's too short for regrets, isn't it, satoru? and your eyes would widen, the sparkle coming back into them as you'd wrap your arms around me, engulfing me in a tight hug.

i'd laugh at you and push you away, but you wouldn't budge, causing me to look up, into your eyes. your beautiful, beautiful blue eyes. bluer than the sky, bluer than the water, bluer than my life before i saw them, and yet with so much life. you'd lean down to kiss me. not like the first time we did. you'd be more gentle. your arms would slip behind my knees, smoothly picking me up from outside the bathroom and placing me on your bed.

you're right, y/n...life's too short for regrets. you'd whisper against my lips, your eyebrows furrowing just like mine, not being able to process the overwhelming emotions. you'd kiss me deeply, like you meant it, like you loved it, like you didn't wanna miss it.

your left hand traveling down to my thighs, grabbing and pinching the flesh, while the other hovered around the heat forming in my underwear. you'd look into my soul, gulping down the saliva in your mouth as you cocked an eyebrow. i'd nod and smile at you, leaning back against your headboard as you leaned closer to me, connecting your lips with mine again. but it was...more wet. more passionate. more lively.

each time i get snapchat notifications with the multiple memories we made in those few months, i think of you and i smile uncontrollably.

© starreo 2024. do not copy, translate or repost .

[moonflowerfourever]

Soukoku SFW Alphabets✨(Part 3)

Part 1, Part 2

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?)

Take one good look at them and think, 'Would they really reveal anything about themselves?' The answer is no, they don't reveal much about themselves. Words were never Soukoku's speciality. Telepathic understanding is more their thing. So yeah, they don't purposefully reveal anything about themselves to each other, they just see each other and just...understand. Dazai's predictions and calculations are almost always true, and the same goes for his observations about Chuuya, though the redhead manages to surprise Dazai himself in some moments. As for Chuuya, he mostly trusts his instincts when it comes to Dazai because he's subconsciously tuned to Dazai at all times.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Dazai has endless patience, but so does Chuuya. Their dynamic would never work out if any one of them did not have the patience. Chuuya may seem like he's angered too easily, but that's just him being irritated. It takes a lot for them to get angry. But when they do get angry, things'll get ugly. Chuuya becomes angry whenever someone poses a threat to his loved ones. If Dazai really becomes angry, then there's no telling why he's angry and what he'll do. So it's best to not make them angry at all.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about each other? Do they remember every little detail mentioned in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

They remember every single thing about each other. That time when Chuuya said he liked a specific French wine? Dazai remembers it. That time when Dazai said that he hated high-pitched sounds? Chuuya remembers it. You can quiz them on every single detail about each other and they'd get every answer right. Dazai's observant mind notes literally everything(especially about Chuuya) and Chuuya just pays attention to Dazai and remembers stuff because at least one of them has to be good husband material.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in their relationship?)

Many people would say that their first kiss was their most favourite, but Dazai and Chuuya shared their first kiss on a bloody battlefield, with corpses on the ground around them. While that is a favourite memory for both of them, it's not number one. For Dazai, his fav moment is when they held hands for the first time while fighting Rimbaud. For the first time in his life, Dazai felt a comforting warmth spread through his body, soothing his mind in an instant. Dazai didn't think about it at that time, but he knew he needed to feel that warmth again. Chuuya's favourite moment would be when they got married. It was a small wedding, with only a few close friends attending the ceremony, but it felt like a dream come true for Chuuya. He would never forget the way Dazai bent him in half to kiss him in the most endearing way possible. He still gets butterflies whenever he thinks about it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect each other? How would they like to be protected?)

They aren't very protective, because they know that their partner can handle any situation by themselves. But if push comes to shove, they won't hesitate to threaten or kill someone for each other. But this applies to everyone close to them, so there isn't any protective streak reserved just for their partner. They don't need it.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

A lot of effort goes into the dates Chuuya plans. Expensive restaurants, sometimes a honeymoon suite in an elite hotel, or tickets to some movie Dazai keeps yammering about. Dazai doesn't spend much money, but he makes them feel special anyway. The location and time don't matter much to him as long as he's with Chuuya. Chuuya is the same, but he also likes the romantic scenery, so he does his best to take Dazai to the most beautiful places he can afford. Dazai enjoys the scenery too, and makes sure that Chuuya feels well-loved for his efforts. Anniversaries are mostly spent at Chuuya's penthouse, with a romantic candlelit dinner, or with showering a lot of attention and love on each other with sweet words and praises.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Dazai's bad habit is his way of hiding stuff that bothers him. Chuuya almost always finds out when something's wrong, but he can't tell what it is. He gets frustrated and sometimes he may even fight with Dazai because he feels that Dazai doesn't trust him. In the end, he always manages to coax the truth out of Dazai and does his best to see it through that Dazai is feeling better. It takes him a while to realise that Dazai does trust him, he just doesn't want Chuuya to worry. This makes him feel even more loved and he makes sure that Dazai knows Chuuya trusts and loves him as well.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Chuuya likes to make a strong first impression, and he likes to maintain the first impression. So he does his best to look good and spends a lot of time in his self-care routine. Dazai doesn't care much about appearances and self-care, but Chuuya makes sure that he follows a routine as well. But that's not to say that Dazai doesn't know how to dress. He knows how to make a lasting impression, or what type of impression it has to be, friendly or distant or threatening. But they don't care about looks to the point of being vain.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without each other?)

Yup, definitely. They are each other's better half, and can't exist without the other. They may look like they're doing good without each other, but inside, they constantly feel like a part of them is missing. It's like asking Yin to exist without Yang and vice versa. In the end, they keep coming back to each other, like a moth to a flame.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Dazai likes having his hair and head played with. He likes it when Chuuya combs his hair, or when he plays with it absentmindedly, or when he scratches his nails against Dazai's scalp. It's comforting for him, and Dazai almost always falls asleep when Chuuya does that.

Chuuya likes to write poems. Some of them say how much Dazai annoys him, and some of them are cheesy as any lovestruck person would write. But most of them are about his life, all the stuff he went through, and they almost always have a philosophical touch to them. Dazai admires his poems and likes to read them in his free time.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In a partner, Dazai doesn't like strict or close-minded people. He also doesn't like people who adhere to traditions and traditional values too much. He also doesn't like it when people try to change him. He knows he has a twisted view of the world, but he doesn't want to see it through the lenses of false hope and cheer others use. Chuuya doesn't like people who are too dependent or too clingy. Dazai may act dependent, but Chuuya knows full well that Dazai can handle things by himself. He also doesn't like people who only go after him for his wealth or status, it makes him doubt himself.

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Chuuya likes to starfish when sleeping, and many times Dazai has ended with a foot or an elbow into his stomach. Chuuya also drools when he's asleep, a fact that Dazai finds adorable. Dazai is a sleeptalker, and many times Chuuya has caught him saying questionable stuff like how he wants to skin Mori alive and feed him to dogs. Dazai also says a lot of sweet and a bit embarrassing things while asleep, and Chuuya never fails to tease him about it.

And that's about it! I hope you enjoyed it! (All of these are my headcanons)

[honeybunniii333]

NEVIN BIG BROTHER INSTINCT

Nevin knew at times he could be overbearing, and he wished he didn't have to be. But Drew somehow always managed to get himself into trouble. Which was why, despite his dislike for the people Drew was choosing to surround himself (and also partially because Chris was going), he had decided to join them on their stupid investigation. He had an awful sinking feeling something bad was going to happen. And he knew Drew wouldn't listen to his request for him not to go. So the only remaining option was to suck it up for Drew's sake... and go along. They found themselves in the woods searching for some abandoned place. Nevin didn't really care too much about the details, he was more focused on watching over Drew. He knew Chris was talking to him, but he barely registered what he was saying. " Nevin?...Hey Nev, are you listening?" He looked up at that. "Oh huh? Sorry, what was that?" He asked. "...are you okay?" He asked. "You look kinda.. tense?" He suggested like he wasn't certain if that was the right word. "I'm fine." he insisted firmly. "I just don't trust this..." Chris nodded at that, still seeming worried. He'd learned to pick his battles when it came to Nevin and his issues. There were times to push and times to leave it, and now? Now was definitely not a push moment. Drew looked like he was having fun. Chattering away and excitedly rushing to keep up with the others. God did, Nevin wish he could just be happy that Drew was enjoying himself. He truly did want that... he just, he couldn't trust it.

They'd found it, a large rundown building that looked like it'd fall apart at any moment. Nevin didn't say a word, but he knew Drew saw the look he gave him, and he definitely saw the look Drew returned. He sighed and let himself be herded along into the building by the rest of the group. He decided he'd just stick close, as everyone explored. "It smells like shit in here." Isaac grumbled, his face souring just a little more than usual. "Yep," Ed replied, making a popping noise on the p. "So what exactly are we looking for?" Chris asked "Supposedly theres a super powerful tome hidden here! Louis wants us to get it for him so he can strengthen his magic!" Dez proceeded to yammer on and on excitedly for the next 15 minutes as they explored each floor. Finally they'd arrived at the top floor. The group had split up into two's, Chris and Isaac, Dez and Ed, and Nevin and Drew. As the twins made their way off away from the rest, Nevin finally voiced his concerns. "This is a bad idea, I don't like it here. This place looks like it'll topple any second, Drew." Drew turned around to face the other with a huff. "You think everything is a bad idea! you don't like anything!" he retorted rather hashly. Nevin looker startled for a moment before he pressed again. "I'm just trying to keep you safe, Drew! You shouldn't be messing around with this stuff!"

"YOU SHOULDN'T BE MESSING WITH MY LIFE NEVIN!" he shouted, gaining the attention of everyone there. "Dre-" He started. "NO! no, I'm sick of this, I didn't even want you to come! I knew you'd ruin it! You always ruin everything!" he snapped, and he felt a pang of guilt when he saw the way Nevins face immediately fell at his words. Maybe he'd been a little too harsh.? He adored his brother, but Nevin was just so much sometimes. He could only take so much. Nevin seemed incapable of responding to that, and it seemed he wouldn't be given any time to do so either as one single step from Drew made the ground begin to rumble and give way. Nevin didn't think twice. He never did when it came to Drew "MOVE." he shouted, and before Drew could respond, he'd shoved the other away as hard as he could before the ground gave out at last. Drew coughed and choked on dust as he pushed himself up from where he'd been thrown to the ground. The room was silent as the building settled again. He looked back at the others in a dazed manor, each of their faces a ghostly white, and then as his focus returned to the now caved in floor and the ringing in his ears cleared, it hit him... "N...nev..?" He called out, met with total deafening silence... no... "...NEVIN!?"

[emmetverse]

"I'm starting to think your advice is nonsense."

The man jumped a little, and shot a glare over his shoulder. He still hadn't washed the blood out of his faded vest. "It's polite to at least knock."

It didn't say anything. Didn't move. Not yet.

"Ugh." He leant back a little, poking the boiling pot with his stick. "What do you want?"

"I did everything you said, but all they do is hate me."

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

The void knelt next to him. "I told you about Good Cop, and so I apologised but he's still being weird and Bad Cop's being all defensive," it grumbled. "This guy 'RJ' starts trying to open a portal to beef with someone so I shut that down before it even starts. Then I'm just talking to them trying to explain 'hey, I don't want to talk about me and you're wasting your time asking me this stuff', and they keep interrogating me." It gestured angrily. "So, y'know, I get frustrated, and suddenly everyone's mad at me even more?"

"And then?"

"I said 'sorry' again, nothing else was said, so I just left them to it." It leant back against the stone wall of the long-abandoned church. "They're too busy worrying about children and dogs and stuff anyway."

He looked over, raising an eyebrow. "Well, there's your problem."

"Huh?"

"You keep apologising. No wonder they're going to keep questioning you. They push you and you break," he poked it roughly with the stick. "So they think if they push in other areas, you'll break there too."

It hesitated. "Really?"

"Do you doubt me?"

It felt something churn deep down. But it didn't answer. It's not like he could do anything to it anyway.

"I don't know. None of them talk to each other like this."

"They're all idiots. There's no point talking to them anyway."

The church fell silent again.

That was a mistake. Distant laughter was caught on the nonexistent wind. The void felt its 'stomach' drop.

The man spun around, frowning at the large arch door. His shoulders hunched. His eyes narrowed in that way that it hated.

"Who's here?"

It felt the distant footsteps vibrating through the sand. "Only you and-"

"Liar."

He shoved himself upwards, grabbing the nearby blade and near running towards the door, almost putting out the flames with the sand he kicked up. The void met him at the top of the dunes. The two of them saw two faint figures, following the markers towards the nothing, bags filled with something heavy. One pushed the other lightly.

"... That's the direction we came from."

The man turned back. His eyes locked with the black silhouette in a way that nobody else's did.

"You told me we were headed towards them."

"... I-"

"That's why you showed up. You wanted to distract me while they were close."

"No!" It shook its head indignantly. "I came here to talk to you. Really."

He didn't care. He turned back to them, watching as their visage glitched in the distance. "Too far to catch up now. They'd see me coming a mile off. But they'll come back." A small smirk crossed his lips. The first time he'd shown anything since the void had gotten here. "I guess we're hanging around for a while."

"No, no," the void stepped closer. "They're just lookalikes. If we follow the shore the other way-"

A fist swung towards it. It dropped into the sand bed, entirely vanishing from sight.

"Coward," the man spat. His boot landed roughly in the sand where it had been with a near sickening crunch. "Hey!" He barked as he vanished inside the church. "Lil magic freak, where are you?!"

The void slipped off to make sure the others got back safe.

[ghoulangerlee]

Swiss/Aeon ; The Tickling Fic ; M

last Friday there was a video of Swiss getting tickled by the new bug and I sent that to Kel who responded with: "how long do you think it'll take someone to write that fic?"

Hi, I'm here to write the tickling fic I guess.

I use the name Aeon for the new bug haha. Also I don't normally write ghoul/ghoul so I had to resist the urge to add in the old man (my beloved).

rated: M-ish

contains: tickling (is it Aeon's kink? who knows), masturbation, rutting, spit (very briefly, but it's Swiss???)

-

He doesn't quite know why he did it in the first place, crowding up against Swiss as everyone gathered on stage for their final bows, his hands immediately reaching out and grabbing for Swiss' waist, digging his fingers into the muscle.

He feels Swiss jolt against him, hands going down to grab at his wrists, can hear him laugh and squirm—its all silly, a joke, nothing too serious.

That's what he tells himself when Swiss squeezes his wrists just a little too tight before letting go, batting his hands away as they fall into line to bow, and when they bow as one, he can smell the change in Swiss' scent. Full of post show endorphins, full of something, maybe arousal, wafting off of him.

He opens his mouth to inhale deeply and taste and forgets, at the last second that he keeps his mouth covered, because out of all of them, he's the worst at keeping his glamour up when he's not focusing on it intensely.

And then, they're filing off stage as the noise of the crowd reaches a crescendo, and Aeon's eyes are trained on Swiss' back, and the way the sweat makes his shirt stick between his shoulder blades, revealing the definition and shape so beautifully.

He's still new to the band, and will be new for a while now, but he's figured things out recently, with these ghouls, with Papa, how things work after shows, how it's not strange at all for two or three or more of them to break off and find a secluded corner to release some stress.

Which is why he's pretty sure no one really bats an eyelash when he quickens his pace and crowds against Swiss' back again, hands going to rest on his hips as he nudges him forward and away from the others, eyes glowing bright behind the lenses of his helmet as he seeks out one of the unused rooms.

Swiss is laughing, though not loud, but Aeon can feel the way Swiss seems to vibrate against him, his hands dropping down briefly to pet at where Aeon's hands are visible, dragging his fingertips along the backs of his hands before pulling away.

They'd been dancing around each other recently, the tension building up so much even Papa could sense it, a mildly embarrassing moment, to have his boss just give him a look while waving his hand between the two of them as if saying well? are you going to go for it?

And well, Aeon didn't explicitly need permission, but having it made him feel at least a little bit better about not messing up the natural chemistry or whatever.

There's an unused dressing room, the door cracked open just enough that Aeon can see that it's filled with stuff, probably being used as a storage room now, and the heat and want under his skin reaches its climax—he's shorter than Swiss, no doubt not as strong as Swiss either, but Swiss goes easily as he pushes him into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.

And Swiss stands there, relaxed, his head tilted to the side, still facing away from Aeon, as if he's waiting for Aeon to make the first move, waiting to see where this is going.

It drives Aeon a little mad, and he pulls his helmet off and shoves the balaclava down around his neck; his glamour is gone now, keeping his form hidden the last thing on his mind as he crowds against Swiss's back, immediately digging his fingers into Swiss's sides almost a little too harshly. A mimic of what he'd done on stage.

Swiss stumbles a bit, catching himself against a stack of cardboard boxes, his head tilting downwards as he laughs, arching his back against Aeon as the shorter ghoul continues to drag his fingertips along his sides, finding all the sensitive spots.

All the while, Swiss' scent spikes, heavy with arousal as his laughter trails off into a wheezing gasp, a plea of some kind.

Aeon exhales, mouth open as he breathes heavily into the center of Swiss' back, inhaling the scent of sweat and arousal until he's light headed with it, scrabbling to tug Swiss's shirt out of his pants so he can touch his skin properly.

Swiss's skin is sticky with sweat against his palms, but he shivers and lets out something close to a whimper when Aeon's nails, sharp and long, drag lightly against his sides.

"You are going to kill me," Swiss wheezes out, finally saying something, his voice loud among the silence, among their heavy breathing.

Aeon doesn't respond to him, just presses his nails a bit harder against Swiss' sides for a moment, before he digs the pads of his fingers into the muscle there, pulling more confused laughter out of Swiss' mouth.

Swiss swears softly, hunching over a bit as Aeon tries to press closer, sinking his teeth into Swiss's shoulder, through his shirt, the only place he can really reach like this.

And Swiss has to grab Aeon's wrist again, squeeze it tightly even as Aeon sort of growls around the mouthful of shirt and muscle he has in his mouth, as if Swiss is trying to pull him away from touching him.

(He's not.)

It continues like this for a bit, Aeon mostly focused on trying to make Swiss laugh, following lines of goosebumps as they pop up all across Swiss's sides and chest, his fingers insistent, digging in when Swiss gasps out as Swiss holds on tight to his wrist, keeping at least one hand resting on his belly, right at the waistband of his pants.

(Swiss doesn't quite understand where Aeon is going with this, but he's always up for trying something new, and with the way Aeon's pressing into him, hard against the swell of his ass, mouthing at his shoulder through his shirt, Swiss is all on board for whatever this ends up being.)

He hopes, somewhat, that Aeon's intending to get him off and not just tickle him, however arousing this is without any other stimuli. But Swiss is impatient on the worst days and slightly less impatient on the best, so with his free hand he does his best to tear open the lacings on his pants and get them open just enough to relieve some of the pressure there.

It's as if the promise of skin is enough for Aeon to be bolder in his touch, wiggling free of Swiss' grip on his wrist, his fingers inch below the waistband, into the open vee of his pants and Aeon exhales as his fingertips make contact with the wiry hair at the base of Swiss' dick.

"You're going to have to touch yourself," he manages to get out after a few moments, words heavy in his mouth as his tongue clumsily works through them, his fangs feel too big for his mouth like this, "Can't." He presses the tips of his claws into the hair, hearing Swiss exhale sharply, his scent growing heavier with arousal and Aeon growls a little, "Not now," he mumbles, a whine catching at the end.

Swiss laughs a little, files away Aeon's not quite denial for later when he has more time to think about Aeon's claws near his dick and the implications of that.

Instead, be pushes Aeon's hand away and mumbles under his breath as he shimmies his pants down just enough to free himself.

Aeon's hands are back on his sides, his fingers poking and prodding at muscle and fat alike, dragging his nails along the skin in a way that has Swiss shivering, leaning his weight back into Aeon's solid body.

The first few strokes of his own hand are dry and a bit unpleasant, so he pulls away, lifting his arm and reaching back behind him to nudge his knuckles against Aeon's horns.

He makes a confused sort of sound, drunk on the scent of Swiss' arousal, lifts his head and looks at Swiss' hand, "Hm?"

Swiss rolls his eyes, feels a bit fond for the guy, "Spit," he says, wiggling his fingers a bit, "Since you won't get me off because you can't keep your shit under control," he teases, "I'm not jerkin' myself dry."

Aeon huffs, leaning up to nip at Swiss' fingers momentarily before he spits into his palm, a little off center and wet.

"Satanas," Swiss mumbles, and then he's wrapping his hand around himself again, swearing under his breath as Aeon drags his claws down his sides, ruts against him from behind. "Oh, you wanna get off too, now?" He asks, just to be difficult, "Can't even touch me but you want something from me anyway, huh?"

Aeon growls lowly at that, sinks his teeth into Swiss' shoulder again as if he's trying to get the other ghoul to behave, his fingertips press almost cruelly into muscle and fat, drawing a choked sounding laugh from the taller ghoul as he jolts backwards into Aeon.

In his hazy mind, Swiss also files this away for later as well, wonders if he could push Aeon's buttons even more to get him to really put Swiss in his place.

(He's thinking, somewhat distantly, about Aeon's teeth in the back of his neck while he fucks him, claws digging into his sides as he holds him in place.)

Aeon tries to formulate words, a response, something, but all that's going through his mind is rutrutrut and the scent and taste of Swiss' arousal as it grows with each pass of his fingers on his most sensitive spots, tickling his ribs and making Swiss bend over, holding himself up against the boxes he'd stumbled into while he furiously jerks himself off with the hand not keeping him steady.

Aeon growls low in his throat when he feels about to burst, too far gone to worry about the consequences of coming in his pants, just sinks his teeth into Swiss again, digs his fingers in hard and faster, making Swiss breathless and gasp for air, lightheaded with the pleasure-pain.

And then, Swiss yells, no doubt alerting someone, anyone of where they are and what they're doing, shaking as he comes with Aeon's name on the tip of his tongue.

A low whine catches in Aeon's throat as Swiss suddenly grabs his hands and jerks them away from his sides, breaking the skin contact—his grip on his wrists is tight, almost too tight, but Aeon buries his face into Swiss' shirt and ruts against him until he's stifling his own noises as he comes, gasping wetly against Swiss' shoulder.

Aeon is almost distantly aware of Swiss pulling away, and for a brief moment, he wonders if he'd somehow forced this on Swiss, but those fears are soon squashed as Swiss gathers him into his arms, muttering something under his breath about overeager ghouls wearing themselves out.

In the time it'd taken for him to turn around, Swiss had pulled his helmet off and placed it down on the stack of boxes, and Aeon makes a pleased little noise when he's able to easily bury his face in Swiss' throat, breathing him in.

Sated. Warm. Pleased.

"You're a little demon," Swiss says softly, combing his fingers through Aeon's unruly hair, but he sounds fond, "I bet my shoulder looks like it's been mauled by a monster." He murmurs with a laugh. "You're a feisty little fella, aren't you?" He asks, though it's rhetorical, the little fella really makes something in Aeon's gut burn.

He whines, pawing at Swiss' sides now that the other ghoul had righted his shirt, "Shh," he mumbles, trying to get his tongue to cooperate properly.

Swiss laughs and shakes his head, lets Aeon rest against him for another minute longer before he pulls away, "Alright, well, as much as I'd love to stay here with you, we really need to find the others. The bus will probably leave soon. Don't want to be stranded."

Aeon does not whine at that even though he wants to, he steps back and pulls himself together as much as he can, pulls his balaclava back up over half of his face and finds his helmet, upside down, on the floor.

There is however, a stain on the front of his pants, and though he knows it's not really proper, he doesn't feel shame for it. Thinks about how this is really his first time making a move with anyone in the band, and how long he'd manage to keep himself under control, he's not going to feel bad about it. Not this.

"Hey, Bug," Swiss says, drawing him from his thoughts, his own helmet on now, coming to stand by Aeon, "My bunk tonight?" He asks, somewhat casual as he rests his hand on Aeon's side, his palm wide and warm through both of his shirts.

Aeon shivers, feels the way Swiss' grip tightens a bit, can see the sharpness of his teeth when he grins, "Yeah, yeah," he says, a little bit too eager.

[agentkaz]

kloktober day 30: HALLOWEEN!!!

i. might have gone overboard with this one. BUT. ALMOST DONE.

Legend has it that if one dares to trick-or-treat at Mordhaus, they will find themselves greatly rewarded.

With this in mind, two kids made up their minds that this time, it was worth a shot. This time, they'd trick-or-treat at Mordhaus. It was daunting, but dressed as Skwisgaar and Toki, with pillowcases in hand, they made it all the way through the scary Klokateer-filled maze to the door.

Toki opened the door, then closed the door before the kids could even say "trick or treat," then he opened it again. He looked back into the doorway. "Hey guys! Tricks or treats ams here! One of them ams me!"

"Wait, seriously?" Nathan said, poking his head out the door and doing a double-take when he saw the kids standing there. "Holy shit! They are!"

"Aw, look at the little guys," Pickles said. "It's like a mini Skwisgaar and Toki are hangin' out around here."

"What the fuck do you want?" Murderface asked.

"Obviously they ams wantings the tricks or treats," Skwisgaar said, shoving Murderface out of the way. "You know, the special tricks or treats what we provides to the brave childrens on this day?"

"Nobody told me we were supposed to provide anything!" Murderface said.

"Yeah, 'cause you weren't listening when we were coming up with it," Pickles said. "If anyone braves coming up here on Halloween, they get some cool shit. Nobody ever fuckin' does it! Too scary."

"Absolutesly terrifyings," Skwisgaar said.

"That's stupid!" Murderface said.

"You're stupid!" Toki said.

The two kids looked at each other. Was their reward an argument?

"Anyway! Toki ams first!" Toki said, pushing past everyone who'd gotten in front of him. "First! Official replicas deaddy bears! Makes your costumes accurates!" He dropped a couple of plush bears into the kids' pillowcases. Then he reached back and grabbed two giant bags of candy. "And these guys keeps sendin's this stuff to me even if I can'ts eats it anymores! So now it ams yours!" Satisfied, he moved aside.

"Qualities over quantities, Toki," Skwisgaar said, and dropped a small bag into each pillowcase. "Here we haves the finest guitars-shapes candies mades by the finest place what makes guitars-shapes candies ins the whole world, since one of you has goods taste."

When Skwisgaar stepped back, Nathan came forward with a solemn nod and dumped the contents of a full bag of nacho cheesier Doritos into their pillowcases.

Nathan tossed the bag aside and Pickles stepped up, ready to put something into the makeshift bags.

"You can'ts gives them booze, Pickle," Skwisgaar said, grabbing his arm. "They ams little babies."

"I'm not givin' 'em booze," Pickles said, clearly slipping a few small bottles back into his pocket.

"You can't give 'em drugs either," Nathan said, "Even if it would be really, really funny."

"You douchebags are no fuckin' fun," Pickles said. "But don't worry. I got something." He reached over and then reverently placed two packages into the kids' bags. "Rotisserie chicken," he said gravely, then stepped back. "Okay, Murderface, your turn!"

Murderface held his hands out. "What? I didn't get anything!"

"You agreed to it!" Nathan said, pointing at him.

"I did not!"

"Yeah you dids," Toki said. "You saids 'yeah, sures, whatevers' and everybody heards it!"

"Fine," Murderface grumbled. "Nobody fucking move!"

He came stomping back a few minutes later and tossed one knife into each bag.

"Okay, there, don't say I didn't give you anything. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the hot tub."

"Waits, Murderface!" Toki said, waving at him frantically. "We gots to takes the groups photo!"

He handed his phone to a Klokateer and everyone crowded around the confused-looking kids. "Says cheese!" Toki called, and then after a few photos, everyone stepped away and went back inside.

Toki beamed at them. "Okay, bye, thanks for comin's up here!" He waved cheerfully at the kids, then slammed the door shut.

The kids looked at each other, looked into their pillowcases, and turned around. Worth it.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Okay I am far too shy to ask this off anon but I love ur stuff and the cnc in mishaps makes my brain go brr so consensual non consent with shigadabi? (Tbh I would love shigadabihawks but idk if hawks would be into that lol)

Prompt: Consensual Non-Consent

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: CNC, Feminization, BDSM, Pain Play, Rough Sex, light Breath Play, Traffic Light System

Since you called out Mishap specifically, I tried to throw in some staples from that series!

He did not know he wanted to play these kind of games when he and Shigaraki first started sleeping together. Hadn't even realized he wanted Duster until the other man had pushed him up against a wall, mouth a hair's breadth away from his own, and asked him if he had a safe word. Got with the program very quickly after that. Had been a rough fuck that made him see stars and left him bruised and aching and desperate to have it again. Had just been rough at first. Because Duster introduced new kinks like Dabi was a frog being slowly brought to a boil in a pot. Never sprung anything on him, always asked before adding something new to their play, but every tiny request built into a bigger one. Dabi's pretty sure that the water is boiling by now, but he can't complain. Every escalation only makes the sex better. 

Been an awful week, the job they're working on now has been a nightmare logistically. Has been thinking in the back of his head that the second that he can get Duster away from everyone else he'll be begging for it, Shig always likes it when he begs. Kind of just wants a good fuck so that he can relieve some tension. Then again, given how much he and Duster are snapping at each other throughout the planning meeting he's starting to wonder if they won't just kill each other first. 

"We're done for the day," Shigaraki's voice is cold and short and he sees Spinner and Compress both wince slightly as he finishes speaking. "You're dismissed." Toga and Twice look like they couldn't be happier to get as far from the room as possible. "Dabi, you stay." 

"I'm not a fucking dog, Shigaraki." He snarls, tasting smoke on the back of his tongue. Compress and Spinner follow the other two swiftly from the room and Dabi goes to follow them, absolutely doesn't have the patience to deal with his boss at the moment without lighting him on fire. 

Duster grabs his wrist, four fingers gripping so hard that Dabi hisses, feeling the staples strain across his palm. His temperature spikes sharply, half-turning to give the other man a warning before igniting, when he yelps as his fifth finger drops sharply, barely hovering two millimeters from his skin, Duster's lips curled and twisted into a sneer. "I told you to stay." Yanks him roughly and Dabi doesn't have a choice but to let himself be pushed against the edge of the table they'd all been huddled around. Lets go of his wrist and before Dabi can try anything, he replaces the hand around his throat instead. Doesn't choke him, but keeps his last finger just barely raised so that he has to stay still as he crashes their mouths together. It's rough, all teeth and tongues and Duster doesn't seem to care if he wants it. Doesn't stop when he tries to bite him because he can't pull away. 

Gasps, "Back off, Shig--" When he parts for breath. Not expecting him to hook two fingers under the staples curving across the back of his hand and tear them out. He lets out a shocked, pained gasp as they come free. "Fuck, that hurt Shigaraki, what are you--"

"Will hurt a lot more when I tear out the ones on your thighs if you don't start to behave, baby girl." 

His face flushes, the heat spreading sharply through his veins and mingling with the pain dancing along his nerves. "Stop playing, Shig. I'm not in the mood," his voice already thin and wavering because Duster's eyes are sharp, furious, hot on him. 

"It's so cute you think I care what you want, firefly." Dabi yelps again as he reaches up, shoving his hand under his shirt so that he can find the patch of scars curving over his side and stomach. Doesn't tear out a staple this time, sinks his nails into his seam and tears that open instead. Feels it slip loose from two staples as his vision flood black for a second. Fuck, fuck that hurts. Fuck, Duster wants to play like this today. Has him whimpering, a tremble going through him as he feels his blood start to slide over his skin, as he sees it starting to seep into his shirt as Shigaraki presses him hard against the edge of the table so he can sink his teeth too hard against the edge of his jaw. 

"Please, Duster, stop." His voice shakes, can't bring it above a whisper. Grits his teeth on a scream, fingers curling tight around the edge of the table, as Shigaraki's push harder against his seam. Hurts badly enough that his breaths start to come in thin gasping pants, the pain snarling along his nerves and making his cock start to harden. 

Pressed so close together, Shigaraki notices immediately and gives a mean bark of laughter. "Fucking whore, can't even pretend you don't want it convincingly." Shame makes his whole body go hotter, his cock get harder, puts a lump in his throat, and a needy sick heat in his stomach. But before he can beg to stop again, Duster squeezes his throat just enough to stop the words. "Undo your belt." 

"Please, Shig," can barely hear the words when they fall off his lips. 

"If you talk back to me again I'm going to fuck your cunt raw, kitten." 

Dabi blanches. His hands are shaking badly as he reaches and undoes his belt. Sounds so loud and final as it slips free, his heart pounding in his ears as it does. 

"That's better. Gonna let go of you now, baby. You're going to undo your pants and bend over the table. If you try anything I'm going to tear open you pretty cunt with my cock and leave you bleeding in here alone when I'm finished." Duster watches him for a second, takes his hand away from his seam first as his thumb strokes gently over the side of his neck. "What color are you, firefly?" 

Still quiet when he manages, "...yellow." 

The touches soften further, Duster shifting to press a kiss to the staples curving over his cheek. "What can I do, baby?" Murmurs it against his skin as his bloody hand reaches down to stroke him through his pants. Dabi lets out a little moan, trying so hard not to roll his hips into the touch. 

"I want to stop," he whimpers. 

"No you don't." And Tomura's tone is so flat and sure. "But you can keep saying that if you want, sweetheart. I won't even punish you if you can behave yourself otherwise." The leather of his pants is thick but it still feels so good when Shig drags his thumb up between his piercings. 

"...green," moans it softly as he starts to feel himself dripping in his pants. 

"Mmm, good girl, turn around." 

The hands leave him and his are still shaky and nervous as he undoes the clasp of his pants. His face heats even more as he glances at the door on the other end of the room. Doesn't know how far the others went, doesn't know if they might come back. Knows that the door isn't locked and is a little terrified that one of them might come back to check on them and walk in. 

"Hurry up," that sharp tone back in Shig's voice immediately when he hesitates. Feels like he might light himself on fire when he shifts them down his thighs, exposing himself to the other man before he shifts to brace against the edge of the table. Duster's hands are back on him the second he stops moving, wrapping tightly around his hips and holding him still as he grinds against his ass, letting him feel how hard he is. Lets out a quiet gasp of a moan, his muscles starting to tremble with anticipation. 

"Please, sir, please don't, someone could--" 

"If someone walks in and sees you split open on my cock then they'll finally see you put in your place." Practically mewls with his mortification as Duster reaches and wraps his hand around his cock, aching and leaking pre. Can't help the little twitch of his hips, fucking into his fist weakly as Shigaraki delivers a sharp nip to the side of his neck. Hears some shifting and then balks as a packet of lube is brought to his mouth. 

"Duster,"

"Either you open this or I don't use it, kitten." Trembling as he starts to shift to reach for it, "Not like that, baby girl." 

Blushes even hotter as he catches the edge of the packet between his teeth and tears it. Rewarded by Shig pressing a softer kiss to his neck, rocking his hips into his again as he strokes his cock. Dabi moans again, tries to be quiet, even harder to do when Duster shifts. Not long before the hand leaves his cock, grabbing his ass roughly and spreading him open. Shame makes his cheeks burn as two slick fingers are rubbed roughly over his hole. His whole body tenses again, voice thin and sharp, "Wait, stop--!" 

Has to bite his lip hard to keep in the keen as Shig presses both slick fingers inside of him all the way up to his knuckle in one smooth movement. Makes his cunt burn at the sudden stretch and he can't choke back a weak sob. Knows the sound was a mistake immediately as Duster nearly purrs as he starts to move his fingers too soon, crooking to find his prostate, spreading wide to make the burn worse. Slick enough to keep from tearing him open, but not nearly enough to keep it from hurting. Wants him to hurt. Punishing him. 

Hot tears slip over his cheeks, "I'm sorry," 

"And what are you apologizing for, kitten?" Sounds completely disinterested as he works him open. Never slows down, each thrust making his legs shake, a thready nervous pleasure starting to build despite the rough treatment. 

"... I was rude." Doesn't even know. Usually knows why he's being punished. Hard to think when Duster deliberately starts to rub his fingers against his prostate as he shoves a third inside. His cock drools against his stomach and he gives another weak sob, "Stop," 

"Always rude, baby." Still uninterested, fingers still moving too fast. "Always rude, and mouthy, and insufferable whenever you forget your place." Pulls his fingers from him and Dabi nearly begs for them back. Knows he's not ready, knows what comes next, shaking his head with a sob as he hears Shig's zipper pull. "But you just need a reminder, I know, sweetheart. And because I'm so patient," feels the slick head of his cock pressing against him for just a second before his breath is leaving him again on a loud keen as he sinks inside. Stretches so much worse than his fingers and Dabi's cock is aching as badly as his cunt as he buries himself to his base in one thrust. "I'm going to give you one. What do you say?" 

"Shig, please, hurts--" 

Draws back and thrusts so hard that it shakes the table and Dabi's temperature spikes as he nearly collapses against the surface, fireworks going off under his skin. "And completely forgetting your manners. I'm so disappointed in you, baby girl." 

He whimpers, tears dripping off his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, th-thank you, sir." 

"Better." And he starts to move. 

Hard thrusts into him, so deep that Dabi can taste smoke crawling up the back of his throat alongside soft moans and whines as his pleasure creeps higher and higher. Shig's mouth back against his neck, teeth scraping roughly over his scars while one hand goes back to his stomach, his fingers slipping against the blood that's still dripping from his torn seam, pressing him back into every thrust so that it hurts fresh each time. The other finds one of his, braced against the table, lays over it, tangles four of their fingers together as he comes apart at the seams. Thinks he's babbling,

"Ah, Shig, Shig," whimpers, "Stop, please, please, don't--" 

"Can feel how much you don't want it," voice full of a vicious, sarcastic amusement, "Can feel how much you want me to stop with how tight your greedy cunt clenches every time I move, pulling me back in." Has him moaning even louder as his lover speaks, rocking back into his thrusts deliriously. Another mean laugh as his chin settles over his shoulder as he keeps fucking into him. "Can see how much you don't want it when your pretty cock is all flushed. Look at you, so desperate you're making a mess all over yourself, kitten." Precum and blood making stains against his shirt. Not going to be able to hide what happened if he didn't already give himself away with the sounds he's been making as he's fucked so roughly. 

He tries to shake his head but the next thrust is so hard and perfect against his prostate all he can do is give another loud broken moan that's tangled on a sob. 

"Fine, if you don't want it then I guess you don't need to cum." 

"No, no, please, Duster, please sir," absolutely desperate, smoke leaking out of his seams. 

"My needy whore. Alright, I won't stop you, you can touch yourself, baby girl." Goading, nasty, teeth sharp in his skin again, fingers grinding against his bleeding seam as he finished speaking. Pushes harder on their tangled hands too, sparks the pain of the missing staples there as well. It all hurts. But it feels so good too, can't help it. Gives another sob and whine as he fumbles, getting his hand around his cock. It's not wet enough, doesn't even think to lick his palm, needs it too badly, wants it to hurt the same way everything else is hurting, the heady pulse of pain racing him towards his orgasm. Duster laughs again, moving faster, thrusting harder, 

"That's it baby girl," moans softly against his skin as he sees Dabi's hand move even faster, trying to match his pace as he rocks back into each thrust. 

"Tomura, Tomura, ah, please," begging for more, begging for something to push him over the edge. 

"So pretty, feel good, baby?" He nods with another weak sob. "And you remember where you belong?" He nods again. "Tell me."

"Under you, sir, please," 

"That's it, being such a good girl, cum for me, princess." 

Couldn't stop himself if he'd wanted when the soft words are paired with the same rough thrusts and lips pressing against his shoulder. Every muscle in his body locks up, his temperature spiking sharply again and smoke pouring from his throat as he moans, splattering his shirt and hand with his release as his pleasure crests. Feels Shig groan against his shoulder, gone so tight he can only give a few more thrusts before he's following him over the edge, drenching his walls with cum. 

Takes them both a minute to come back to themselves. And when he does, Tomura starts to pepper his shoulders with soft kisses, his hands stop prodding at the fresh wounds, stroke over his skin so gently. Dabi whines, face heating again when he feels his lover pull out and his seed start to spill down his thighs. Fuck, blood and cum all over his shirt too. 

"...I hate you and your plan is still half-baked at best." Hard to sound any kind of dignified when he's still sniffling and panting, trying to get his breath back in him and stop crying.

Shig sighs against his skin, "I told you that we could work on it, you brat." Shifts so that Dabi can turn around, kisses him as soon as he does, soft and light as he strokes a thumb over his cheek. "No talking about work right now, kitten. Just want to take care of you, let me?" 

Melts against him and Duster takes that for the permission it is. More soft kisses over his lips and cheeks, gentle hands straightening their clothes enough they can at least leave the room, though there's nothing he can do about his shirt. Just gonna have to be glad that Duster's room's not far and hope the others wanted to get far enough away from them that they won't cross any of their paths. Wants to get cleaned up and let Shigaraki keep pressing kisses and soft touches against his skin. 

"Let's go take a bath, sweetheart." 

Really let the other man slowly boil him alive. Still not complaining when every touch and press of their lips feels so good.

Thanks so much for submitting! Still accepting prompts from this list!

[hazbincalifornia]

Fizz goes into labor as Striker is threatening him at the end of the new episode and Blitzo is the only one around to help him have the baby :3

Ao3 link

There were not enough 'fucks' in the world to describe the sheer measure of how deeply, truly fucked they were right now.

Striker's brains were splattered over the junk piled behind them, but they had a much bigger problem splattered all over the upholstery of the car that didn't start because some fucker had snitched the engine. They'd taken Blitz's phone and crushed it before tying him up, and they'd probably taken Fizz's to do the ransom.

"Fuck, are you o-"

"What the fuck do you think?" Fizz hissed out, stomach rolling and fingers on his one working arm shredding through the seat below him. They'd settled in the back with a blanket that might have had piss on it at some point.

"Okay, just- deep breaths, okay?" Blitz sucked in one himself. Breathe. He'd handled bones shoved through skin, both his own and on others, he'd handled a half of dozen people fucking him in a Gluttony orgy, he could handle something shoving its way out of his former (and possibly renewed?) best friend. He stuffed stuff into tight holes all the time, the reverse couldn't be that bad, right?

(He had no idea if the dried black splotches on the seat were oil or blood and he suddenly didn't want to know.)

Fizz seemed to be trying to hide his pain at first, but the whimpers grew in volume before tears started rolling down his cheeks. Blitz rummaged around in the glove compartment and tossed Fizz a bottle of painkillers to dry-swallow a few. They were about six months expired, but it's not like it was going to make things that much worse.

"Alright, you've got this. You said he's got a kaiju cock, right? Then you can push this shit out if you ever fit him in, you're stretchy as shit now."

Fizz actually snickered a little at that, even as sweat rolled down the side of his head and breath left his mouth in heavy pants as his stomach shifted lower. There was more fluid leaking from between his legs. It was dark gray. Blitz really, really hoped it was supposed to look like that.

Fizz pushed and moaned and pushed again.

There was movement outside the car. Blitz curled himself over Fizz, gaze darting around with his gun out. What if someone had survived the collapse? What if whoever grabbed the engine came back? What if, what if, what if, what if he couldn't protect him this time when he fucked it up so, so bad the first time? (It was an animal. This time, at least. They might not be so lucky if there was another.)

Fizz's breath was rattly, and Blitz set the gun on the cupholder beside him, resting sweaty hands on legs so hot they practically burnt the burns on his palms through his gloves. He'd never really thought about how hot robotics could get when working, even if all these were doing was trembling as they lay splayed apart. That might not be a good sign.

Greed always smelled like metal and grease and blood and smoke, and the scent wafting through the window was all that and more, entangling with sweat and tears as Fizz nearly cracked his palm while he tried to talk him through each movement, all rolling together way, way too fast and way, way too slowly at the same time.

Bit by bit, minute by minute and hour by hour, Fizz's stomach shifted.

"Just keep pushing, you've gotta be almost there. I know that fucker looked huge, but you're bigger than they are, that's gotta count for something."

"I w-want Ozzie..."

"Yeah, I want him too. Looked like he'd be my type if he wasn't taken, and probably knows more about this shit. Just listen to the sound of my voice, okay? I think I see something."

Fizz's strength was clearly flagging, but that reinvigorated him.

"Really?"

"Yep, it's kinda purple-ish, sure looks like a head."

Fizz gritted his teeth and bore down, legs shaking even more and metal heels digging into the seat as the thing inside of him nudged closer to the flickering, toxic-green light. After a few moments, he slumped back, tongue lolling out and panting.

"F-fuck..." He swallowed. "I've been carrying the sucker around for ages, and I want to see 'em so bad, b-but-"

"Hey, hey, no buts." Blitz was about to press a hand to his mouth, but he realized that it was spotted with blood and snatched it back. Fizz didn't seem to notice. "You're gonna, okay? You're gonna squeeze 'em out the rest of the way, then you're gonna start bawling like a baby out of daddy love, then we're gonna find a way to get you back to wherever the fuck you live now."

"Ozzie's place."

"Really, you live at the club?"

"He has a palace, you idiot." Still, the little bit of banter twitched up a smile on Fizz's face before it fell as he started pushing again, legs apart and body trembling from the overexertion.

The sky was starting to lighten. Somebody could find them.

"You're doing good, you're doing real good, just a few more, c'mon..." Blitz tried to soothe, tightening his hands so they wouldn't jitter so much. Fizz needed him, Fizz needed him, Fizz needed him. He wasn't fucking this up again. He was not fucking this up again.

A cry broke through the humid air, and twin sighs followed it as Fizz slumped back and Blitz gingerly pulled the baby upwards. It was soaked in slime and had tiny feathers next to a pair of nubby horns, luckily too small to cause any kind of damage that the head hadn't done already. Blitz tried to wipe it off on his coat (it was stained already, blood and smoke and trash slime and Satan knew what else, but it was the best he could do) and offered it to Fizz, and Fizz's eyes watered as he offered a finger that they wrapped their tiny hand around.

"H-hey, little guy. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh?"

"They take after their daddy."

Blitz wiped his hand off on the back of the seat as best as he could before brushing some of the slime away from their feathery head, and Fizz nuzzled a chubby little cheek, making a soft purring noise as he did.

Somewhere outside, a fire crackled and a person screamed, but in here, it was hot and bloody and sweaty and they'd survived.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

as the original max/mommy/ransom anon, i'm so glad that there's another anon that shares the vision of max/ransom :) and i will say while i do love that as much as max is subbier than ransom, with the right incentive max can definitely overpower him 😏

see, i'm imagining that mommy is out of town and unfortunately can't look out for her babies, so maybe she arranges for them to keep each other in line while she's off doing her important work 🤭

i reckon they'd get on each other's nerves real quick, what with how ransom is being bratty at getting left behind, like he isn't the most important business she could be attending to right now? and with max off doing his own thing and ignoring him, ransom makes the mistake of pushing all of max's buttons (the way ransom curses out their mommy while she's not there doesn't help) until he snaps—

cue to them rolling around like overgrown puppies trying to come out on top, but ransom underestimates how much strength he'll need to restrain max, because isn't he just their mommy's sweet boy? this guy, a threat? until max is on top of him and looking like he wants to wipe the floor with him.... 😈

ransom licks his lips while still under max, and thinks, this'll be fun.

meanwhile mommy is just sipping her martini in first class, she'll see them in a week, they can handle each other for awhile (lol)

original

related to this

Lmao, yes, I love this for you guys. The more the merrier 😏 and, just--

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

YES

Exactly that! Ransom is all huffy and shoving and he does, just, snap. Then, they're fucking rolling 👏🏻 around 👏🏻 like 👏🏻 puppies 👏🏻 wrestling 👏🏻 That is the perfect description. Yes.

Also, Jesus, I feel like with this dynamic Mommy would certainly have some kind of security cameras/"baby monitors" set up in the house to see what kind of bullshit they get up to without here. She's expecting some bickering here and there, maybe a bit of the pushy-shove-y stuff. She isn't expecting to see, well, her two favorite boys wrestling, humping, grinding, shuttering, and moaning in a pathetic little pile on her nice, wooden floors...

[redrosydiaz]

Things are not looking good.

Eddie's never been much of an optimist — never been much of a pessimist either, to be fair — but this is more a matter of realism anyways. And there's no sun shining down on him today. No rainbow in the dark. No silver linings.

He's going to die.

He can feel it. His consciousness slipping. His vision going spotty, getting blurrier and blurrier. He can feel the blood — so much blood — too. Hot and wet and way more of it than there should be outside of his body. It's slick down his sides, slick through his fingers, slick across his cheek and over his lips. The tangy iron is strong in his nostrils and down the back of his throat — it makes him feel sick, but there isn't anything he can do about it.

It goes dark, and Eddie thinks this is it but then there's something sharp against his cheek, a stingling staccato as something smacks against his skin.

His head lolls, but his eyes flutter open, and there's Dustin. Dustin. His little sheepie. His brother in arms. His friend.

"Dustin," he says, but it's slurred, heavy on his tongue. It takes real effort to push the sounds out.

"Eddie, Eddie, come on man, come on, keep your eyes open! You're— you're here, I'm here, you're gonna be fine, you're gonna be okay, just keep your eyes open, keep your damn eyes open!" It's frantic, high pitched and hysterical. It does nothing to reassure Eddie that he's going to be fine (he knows he's not), but it's a lifeline for Dustin, who out of any of them is the optimist, and that makes Eddie want to smile.

He tries to, but he thinks it comes out as more of a grimace, and it can't be too reassuring, with all the blood in his mouth — coating this teeth, dribbling down his lips, the side of his cheek.

Dustin's red, tear stained, snotty face grows fuzzy in front of him, and the little spots of black that have been lining the edge of his vision start to grow. Eddie's eyelids feel heavier and heavier, and he can't remember why he was supposed to keep them open anymore.

So he stops fighting it.

The last thing he hears is a loud, panicked, "Woah, hey!"

Everything is black for a moment, but then Eddie sees his uncle.

He sees Wayne, and it's that last day again. The last time they'll see each other.

Eddie's late, so so late, and normally he wouldn't give a damn, but he's got a test this morning, first period, and Miss O'Donnell is notorious for having the test papers on their desks before they even come in so that they can start the second the bell rings. Eddie needs every god damn second for this test, his high school career is counting on it. But, of course, he's running late.

He barely had time to stuff his feet in his shoes, and he probably definitely should have skipped the toast, but Wayne is always getting on him about breakfast being the most important meal of the day and feeding his brain, 'specially before a big test, and all that bullshit, so Eddie took the time to listen.

The toast pops and Eddie definitely doesn't have time to butter it, so he just shoves it between his teeth, snags his backpack, and hurries for the door.

Hurricane Eddie sends the door flying, and nearly crashes straight into Wayne, who must've just been getting home from work.

"Woah, hey," Wayne says, holding out a hand and catching him on the shoulder to steady him.

But Eddie doesn't have time for this. He barely even spares Wayne a second glance as he ducks out of his grasp and squeezes past him, grumbling out some half hearted sound that doesn't even qualify as a proper greeting around the toast.

He's down the steps and at his van in second, and he doesn't look back as he peels out of Forest Hills.

That was the last time he'd seen his uncle. That was the last time they'd ever spoken. Except, Eddie barely did either of those two things. He doesn't know what color Wayne's flannel was. He doesn't remember if Wayne was wearing one of his hats. He can't even recall if Wayne said anything else to him but "woah, hey". He thinks he might have, but Eddie hadn't been listening. Not that time.

He'd been in a hurry. Figured he'd have plenty of time to ask Wayne about his day when he got home later. That he'd get the chance to (hopefully) give him the good news, that his test went well. He thought he would be able to thank Wayne for his help. To tell Wayne that he loves him.

He never got to tell Wayne he loves him.

Eddie's heart kicks weakly in his chest, slower and slower as the seconds tick by, but it's enough. With all of the strength left in him, he opens his eyes.

He tells Dustin that he loves him.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Billy's camaro Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

Steve Harrington wakes up feeling the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. He doesn't want to get out of bed, again. He doesn't want to start breakfast, dress, go to work. Again.. let him just lie here, listening to silence and thinking of all the things that could have been different.

Ah yes, the could've should've would've, Steve's knows it aaall by heart now.

It's been gnawing at his insides for months.

***

See, they didn't even do anything. They'd just been pushing each other around, shoving one another, making snarky remarks or straight up ignoring each other. Looking. That's all they've been doing.

Steve should've talked to him. He could've just fucking talked. And maybe, just maybe everything would've turned out not the way it had.

Cause now, when Billy was dead and gone, Steve can't find peace. What if he had tried having a conversation with him, what if he had offered Hargrove a cigarette, what if he had made an attempt to just get to know the boy who ended up dying to save all of them. How did he even find it in him .. to stand up to that thing. To face it, fearless and strong.

Steve thinks about Hargrove every day now. The boy he knew nothing about.

The boy he wants to know everything about.

Steve doesn't tell anyone, but there had been something else. Ever since he saw the new guy from California in the school parking lot, Steve had been having .. feelings.

Strange ones, thrilling ones. Scary. He'd seen Billy in his filthiest dreams multiple times and woken up with a boner, still choosing not to connect the goddamn dots. Blamed it on the months of dry spell instead. Blamed it on not getting any.

And it wasn't like Steve had lost a person who he'd been very close with. He and Billy weren't close. Were very distant, always just orbiting near each other. Colliding only once.

Was it just Steve, or Billy had also seen him in his dreams?

Steve will never know now. Fuuck.

Steve's a fool.

They weren't close but the Starcourt bursting fireworks grand finale with Billy's crescendo had crushed Steve in the ways he didn't even expect. Steve lost his peace of mind ever since.

He also .. okay, he felt kinda guilty for the car. Billy's Camaro. Steve knew that he had crashed into it to protect the Party. There was no choice. Still, somehow it felt as if he had committed a crime.

The guilt was looming over him and Steve sincerely felt like shit for what he had done.

***

So it's just another day. Steve wakes up and doesn't want to move. He has to go to work. Doesn't want to. Has to call mom about some family stuff. Is not gonna.

Instead, Steve decides to do something about this unending ache. It's not like he has the powers to bring Hargrove back from the dead but there's something that's been on his mind. Some unfinished business. Something that was his own fault and he wants to atone for.

Steve doesn't go to Family Video. Doesn't even call in sick or anything. He'll deal with it later.

Instead, he goes to the old junkyard.

The mangled corpse of Billy's camaro had been towed away to the outskirts of Hawkins and left among other ghosts to slowly rust away. Keeping memories about its owner that only it knew.

Steve drives to the old scrapyard. It's morning time, and the sun is bright and cheerful. Steve's even excited. It's like.. he's going to see an old friend. Weird.

Steve finds it easy. It's there, the crippled beauty. The dent that was Steve's doing, is huge. The paint has almost flaked off. The car looks lonely and fragile.

It's a heartbreaking sight. Steve is literally this close to tears.

But hey, he's come here with a purpose. Billy is dead. Not forgotten, but gone. Maybe Steve can at least do something about the car.

He opens the driver's door. There's something symbolic about it, Billy had done it thousands of times.

Gets in the driver's seat, shuts the door. Fuuck. It's too much.

Steve is a fucking idiot. He should've talked to Billy when he still had the chance. Because sometimes life doesn't give you the second one.

The camaro is indeed in a deplorable state, and the inside? The inside looks bad, but probably .. not too bad. Steve doesn't know much about cars, but he definitely feels there is hope.

Steve opens the glove box. There are some tapes there and an open packet of Marlboro Red. A few condoms. A couple of Polaroids of the ocean. A Hawkins map.

He places his hands on the steering wheel. Steve had always secretly liked Billy's car. His own beamer was great, but .. he couldn't really call it his car, you know? It was a gift from his parents, that they had chosen. Billy's car .. it had personality. It had fire. Just like Hargrove himself.

Speaking of fire, why is the sun getting so hot? Steve felt as if the wheel started to get warmer. Hotter. Ouch, fuck! Did it just get so hot it burnt his fingers??

Is the seat suddenly hot? What the hell is happening? Maybe something is wrong with .. with the ignition, Steve is really not an expert.

He puts his hand on the door handle and it fucking burns too. It also .. it doesn't open. What the .. He tries again. It's burning hot but he pulls it again and again, but the door

just.won't.open.

It's getting even hotter, excruciatingly hot. What is going on here .. Steve has to get out. He's having trouble breathing. He has to get out, fast!! He leans to the passenger's side, wants to open the door there but suddenly.. the fuck!!?? The safety belt comes fucking alive, crawls like a snake around Steve's chest and waist and slides into the buckle. By itself.

Click.

What kind of fucked up shit is that?? Oh god. This is crazy. Oh god oh god oh god what the fuck

The belt holds Steve in the seat, tight. He can't reach the passenger's door, he can't move and it's getting even hotter. What the hell is happening, please, what is it??? Steve's trying to unbuckle the belt, but the lock is stuck, everything is fucking stuck, and the belt is getting tighter and tighter and oh christ .. he can feel the smell of gasoline.

Steve understands very clearly --

He's fucked.