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#that’s where this concept comes from

becca-e-barnes · 11 months

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Sub Bucky and a breeding kink 💀 dead unlived it's one of my favourite things 😌

This is pretty high up there on my list of dream fantasies 🥵 these are two of my biggest weaknesses, don't even look at me rn

One of life's greatest joys is cuddling with the other person's head resting on your chest so you can play with their hair and rub their shoulders. I love that shit, having someone else's body weight on you is so comforting.

I imagine that's something Bucky would really enjoy too. It's so soft and sweet and tender and getting to feel cared for would really appeal to him.

But that's up until his hands work their way under your top, up over your bare skin so he's able to cup your breasts and bury his face between them while he's getting his hair played with. Life's pleasures don't get much simpler than that.

After a few moments he shifts slightly, tugging the neckline of your shirt out of the way to give himself space to kiss and nip your skin. All of a sudden he's desperate and it's beautiful to watch.

"Please." He whispers between frantic kisses, flicking his tongue over the stiff peak of your nipple before engulfing it with his warm, eager mouth.

"Please, what?" You tease, tugging on his hair just a little for emphasis.

He groans, frustrated by his own lack of coherence, pulling his mouth from your nipple. "Please let me put a baby in you."

That's not what you were expecting but fuck, he makes it sound pretty appealing.

"Bucky-" You begin but he cuts you off, giving your other nipple the same attention as he gave the first. God, that's distracting.

"You'd make. Such. A pretty. Mommy." He whispers, kissing his way down your body until he reaches the bottom seam of your top. From there, he pulls it off, letting it fall to the floor before removing the rest of your clothes.

"You'd look so pretty with a little baby bump." His huge hand rests on your bare tummy, imaging how your body would change.

"I want it, Buck." You mean it too. It doesn't sound like such a bad idea when he's taking his clothes off.

"I know you want it." He groans, rubbing the tip of his dick against your soaked core. "Y-you're so wet."

He presses his hips forward, sliding inside you and you can't explain it but you swear it feels different this time.

"Don't even think about pulling out." You cup his face in your hands, keeping his eyes on you and you almost worry he's going to fuck himself senseless into you. "I want you to make me a mommy. You're going to give me every single drop of cum and when it starts to drip out of me, you're going to fuck it back in."

His head falls onto your shoulder, sobbing a pathetic moan against your already hot skin. The pace of his thrusts matches his need, his hips slamming into yours and when he finally gives in, he cums inside you with your legs clamped around his waist, making sure he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #sub!bucky #subby bucky #this is one of those fantasies that's nice in my head #I think I'd like to be at that point in my life but it's absolutely not where I'm at rn #maybe some day tho #I started writing a new series yesterday #making a lil moodboard #excited to post the concept #can't decide if I want each chapter to feel like a continuation of the one before #or if I want the chapters to be more detached from each other with time passing in between #might actually space it out over a weekend?#I took my lil granny out for lunch today and she's just the cutest #she usually comes up to ours for Sunday lunch but my parents were out this weekend #so I made her dinner last night and took it down to her and I asked if she wanted to go out for Sunday lunch for a change #she made me book the table right there in front of her so she'd be able to look forward to it 🥺#I sat with her for over an hour yesterday evening and she smiled nearly the whole time #she's too cute I swear

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harrywavycurly · 11 months

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How I think it would be being married to Eddie Munson, random edition:

When you’re in the middle of making the bed like putting clean sheets on and you have one of those “fuck this shit” moments and you just plop down face first onto the mattress and before you can get back up and properly make the bed Eddie walks in and is all “is this how you normally make the bed or are you just taking a Power Nap halfway through?” and all you do is lift up a hand and flip him the bird making him laugh before he plops down next to you on the unmade bed.

He’s in the living room working on Hellfire stuff and he hears a loud thud from the bedroom and he doesn’t bother getting up he just mumbles “3…2…1..” to himself before you shout “I’m okay!” and he just nods his head because you falling or dropping something is normal.

When you two go watch Dustin and the gang graduate highschool and you silently hand him a tissue because he’s trying so damn hard not to cry so he takes it and whispers “little fucking shits” as you wrap your arm around his waist.

You’re making dinner and the front door opens and shuts and before you can even say hello you feel Eddie’s lips on your cheek as he rushes into the bedroom to change while telling you all about something that happened to him at work but pauses to say “damn…something smells good.” as he enters the kitchen.

Having to hear “i didn’t say it…like that” from him as you tell a super mushy story about one of your first dates to Max or Robin while Eddie is in the kitchen making something to eat.

The way you’d have to fight the urge to laugh when Eddie actually cries after selling his van for a more “family friendly” vehicle after the two of you decide it’s time to maybe try to have a mini Munson.

Surprise calls from Eddie on his way home from work telling you to get dressed because he wants to take you on a date.

You still hiding your face in his hair during a scary movie even though the two of you have been watching them since you first got together but Eddie doesn’t care because he likes how you practically end up in his lap by the end.

The different ways he tells you he loves you and you keeping all the little notes he leaves you on the coffee pot or mirror that are to remind you how much he loves you or are just little random thoughts he’s had that he wants to share with you.

#where did this come from? no one knows #Eddie Munson #husband!eddie munson #eddie munson concept #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #my little dungeon master baby #eddie munson x wife!reader

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arsenicflame · 2 months

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Ed gets amnesia (Izzy-centric, pre s1 banishment, past edizzy to some degree)

It starts something like this: a rope left out after a raid, a captain showing off to the crew, a workload stretched too thin to have noticed the accident waiting to happen...

When Ed wakes, it's almost immediately clear something is wrong. He's lost a few years of memories- not much in the grand scheme of things, but it's enough that the man who lays in front of them is almost unrecognisable to the man they knew. He's from just at the point where he was starting to get frustrated with the 'ease' of being Blackbeard, tiring of his old life, but still so full of life and love in ways the present Ed forgot how to be.

He's a lot more on guard, for a start, waking up surrounded by strangers, even if they are treating him very nicely. He doesn't trust them, he doesn't even fake trusting them, just shuts them out completely.

Stede and Roach figure out what's going on pretty quickly and try to explain it to Ed after that, about what's happened and all the things he missed, but he doesn't believe them for a second- how could he? If he got hurt, Izzy would be there waiting for him to wake up. He always has been, always is, his predictable and reliable Izzy. He says as much to Roach and Stede, the only thing he will say, and they just... side-eye each other. They can't believe it- Izzy?

Anyway, Ed completely shuts down after that, so someone runs to get Izzy. Izzy, who had decided, after everything- especially the past few weeks on the revenge- that there's no way Ed would want him there. He's still lurking on deck because he can't stand not knowing how Ed is, but he knows that's not his place any more. So to say he's surprised when Stede comes and begrudgingly grabs him is an understatement- Stede doesn't tell him anything, obviously, just that Ed’s asking for him.

The way Ed’s face lights up as he walks into the room is a punch to the gut. There's a cheerful greeting, the kind he hasn't received in years, and Ed’s yapping on about what he's been told and what happened and "this ship, Iz!" and he's just... floored. He can't say anything in response, not even to confirm their story because this is Ed, this is his Ed, who's face is turning worried, joking about how it looks like Izzy’s the one with a head injury, and Izzy can't cope. He just... storms out of the room.

Izzy’s up on deck, and he's not even yelling, or working, or really doing anything, just aimlessly coiling ropes in a daze when Ed appears on deck after him. He's thrown his leather jacket over whatever of Stede’s clothes he was wearing, a return to his Blackbeard armour to be seen by crew, and he jogs up to Izzy and starts getting handsy with him, physically turning him to looking him in the eyes and check he's ok, just generally being casual in a way that nobodies ever seen them- a way that nobody expected Izzy to tolerate (but of course he does, its Ed).

Izzy'll stutter out a response and Ed will wrap his arm over his shoulder, casually, like that's a thing they do. He'll ask for a tour, for him to explain everything, like what's the deal with this Stede guy. He's still enamoured with The Revenge and all its bells and whistles, only now he wants it with Izzy. It's all 'Iz' and 'mate' and affectionate and a side of their relationship even the Queen Anne crew haven't seen in years, a complete shock to absolutely everyone except this Ed.

Ed shows Izzy the model of The Revenge again and Izzy is both heartbroken and so indulgent because that's the Ed he had once, and he's going to take every second while he can. Ed can show him every single trinket on the entire ship if he wants. Izzy's always been willing to indulge Ed to some degree (it's Izzy, after all) but there's usually external factors, like they're in the middle of a raid, storming a hostile ship, or being chased down by the Spanish without any plan and over the years Izzy’s taken to just trying to redirect Ed quickly rather than letting him get distracted with the next shiny thing. It's been a sticking point between them, Ed's distractions and Izzy's rigidity and inability to have fun even when the occasions fitting.

But, for all Izzy's gripes with The Revenge, he does know it's safe for them- or at least that he could take on any member of this useless crew who tried to take advantage of his captain's momentary incapacity. So he does, for once, feels safe to indulge Ed. And God, he wants to. He has wanted to. He wants to watch him forever, like he did when they were little more than kids. He wants to forget all the mistakes he made just to see Ed smile and light up at him one more fucking time. He's not going to throw away this opportunity, no matter how badly it hurts him in the end.

Ed's memories don't come back in a day or so, so the crew keeps getting these shows of their relationship in a way they've never seen before- all these casual touches, and the way he'll turn to Izzy before anyone else, even Izzy laughing a couple of times. The crew gets to see a completely different Izzy- one more like the man he'd have been on The Queen Anne, a man they can see means something to Ed. He's not just his rotten first mate, a necessary evil of Blackbeard, at some point it becomes very clear that Ed did like Izzy, that he chose to have him around. It's like being back when Ed and Izzy were on the same page, at the height of Blackbeard, their partnership, when things were GOOD.

And of course, Izzy’s going along with all this. He's not telling him anything about the way they're different now, about how they finished breaking their matelotage 6 months back, about how they've been living at arms length for years, about how this simply isn't who they are to each other any more. He couldn't possibly do that, not when he gets to live the best days of his life all over again, just for a few short days. Maybe he'll get a week or two, if he's really lucky.

It's hurting him, obviously, it feels like his heart is being ripped out every time Ed touches him, every time he corners him in the depths of the ship (still so untrusting of this unknown crew- not helped by how they treat Izzy. He sees the side eyes and cruel comments and notices in a way the present version of him never did, too wrapped up in Stede and the madness of this ship) but hey. Izzy’s a masochist. He'll take anything Ed gives him, and he'll especially take this opportunity to have one last taste of what he's lost.

At the time it faded so slowly he didn't realise he was losing it until it was all gone, but he won't make that mistake this time. He knows their time together is limited, and he's going to take every fucking second he can and hold it close forever. If Ed makes him leave after he remembers? After he realises the way Izzy took advantage of him? It's worth it, to have this again, one last time.

#this is probably somewhere between too fleshed out and not fleshed out enough. yet somehow still not the right amount of substance #but i didnt want to waste another month making the additional thoughts ive had on this idea flow w the rest so this is what you get #perhaps ill come back and add my (mostly eds perspective on all of this) thoughts in at some point. who knows #if you want a vibe as to where that goes ; huge inspirations in this concept draw upon the lyrics #'But I hate when I feel like this / And I never hated you' :'''''')#(lyrics from poke by frightened rabbit which is your edizzy song recc of the week)#nyxtalks #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #israel hands #edward teach #blackbeard #blackhands #edizzy #post dedicated to my dearest sage for bouncing this concept with me !!! i love u SO much

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etoilesbienne · 8 months

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just so we're like clear what's happening rp-wise, antoine and forever's convos one on one are, like, implying forever wants to work with the federation to make the entire island like forever right now. regardless of this being his actual intended plan, it's a fairly understandable thing for antoine to be concerned the president is saying this to him. forever, to his knowledge, might genuinely have the power to go through with doing that. he's not being harsh or mean to be legitimately concerned the island's only elected official is talking like this.

#?? im confused where people are getting the concept antoine is being like. mean to forever. is coming from lol #he has every right to be worried #qsmp #qsmp liveblog #posts from the aether

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astrobei · 1 year

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for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others.

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket.

Will’s flashlight sputters again.

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight.

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him.

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding.

God. He’s so screwed. “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this.

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

#hiiii quin so sorry but tumblr ate ur og ask #i did immediately memorize it tho bc i read it and i was like Oh Yes #anyways ik u asked for maybe s5 too #and idk why this is where my mind went #there are a million other s5 scenarios that i could've written #but something about byler kissing in dark closets.... haha #yeah <3 #anyways i hope u like this !!#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics #also fun fact for anyone who reads my fics #this was rly close to my og concept for ive come home im so cold #like the third chapter #but that story got away from me so #this isn't the Same but its similar !! kind of.#ok bye

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angeart · 1 month

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grumbo week 2024 — #1 - souls

mumbo stole grian's soul in season 8, making them soul linked. except, what if grian was an avian and mumbo was a vampire, and the traits started manifesting both ways...?

-- prompts by @grumboweek

#ange draws #i had fun with this one #needed vampire grian #that's where this whole thought came from #mumbo gets baby wings #one of them gets bloodthirst #the other gets growing pains #wonderful #mumbo teaches grian how to safely drink blood #and grian preens him in return #and eventually teaches him how to use his new wings to fly #so many good moments can come from this concept #anyway #grumbo #hermitshipping #grumboweek #dayoneprompt

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better-call-mau1 · 1 year

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Sabine: I can’t believe how much we have in common!

Satine: Our names, for starters —— just one letter different.

Sabine: Iconic style and fashion sense, of course.

Satine: And let’s not forget about our problems with estranged family members.

Sabine: We’ve both had precarious encounters with Maul, too!

Satine: Precarious indeed. Is there anything else you can think of?

Sabine: Hmmmmm...well...

Obi-Wan and Ezra: *standing together awkwardly in the background*

Sabine: ...nothing I’d admit publicly.

Satine: I suppose you don’t have your own Korkie, then? A ‘nephew’ of inexplicable origin?

Sabine: Sorry...a what??

Satine: Never mind. Give it a few years.

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marzipanandminutiae · 22 days

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I wanted so badly to like Don't Want You Like A Best Friend to spite the puritanical pearl-clutchers online who are mad about [checks notes] the sapphic lovers, who are not related and who met as adults, Parent Trap-ing their way into becoming stepsisters because it's 1857 and there's no other way to legally codify their relationship AND reduce the pressure on the poor one to marry a rich man

but tragically I noped out at like...5% completion because the anachronistic dialogue (with no clear stylistic choice behind it) and spotty understanding of 1850s culture were just too much

#books #sapphic romance #wlw romance #historical fiction #historical romance #some parts were very well-researched to the point where the shakier stuff was hugely jarring #after the concepts of an open bar at a ball were introduced and the term 'grounded' was used in the modern sense #(which comes from AIRPLANES and was DEFINITELY NOT AROUND IN 1857)#I just. I couldn't do it anymore #when people who don't actually like historical or Actually Old fiction try to write historical fiction maybe?

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moonlitkissing · 1 month

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In need of a taller boy to pin against a wall by his throat to tell him to grind against my thigh if he wants some friction

#she speaks #nsft concept #fem domme #totally not solely to make him whimper and tell me that that's mean #no i don't know where the recent obsession with grinding is coming from

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harrywavycurly · 1 month

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Lines of dialogue that have been floating around in my head recently:

“This feels like a trap…fuck it let’s go.”

“You’re in love with me?…like me as in the person standing right in front of you?”

“Who does this tiny human belong to and why is it drooling?”

“I’d love you for the rest of my life if you’d let me.”

“This isn’t what it looks like…or maybe it is? It really just depends on what you think…this...looks like.”

“What are you doing on my porch at five in the morning?”

“Well great you’ve made me go and fall in love with you and now everything is ruined.”

#don’t ask where these come from they just pop into my head #if yall get inspired and use one of these please tag me id love to read it!!!!#writing prompt #fluff prompts #angst prompts #eddie munson concept #my little dungeon master baby

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nyaagolor · 11 months

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I will never under why people insist the Paldean gym leaders need their other jobs “because the league doesn’t pay enough”. Maybe I’m misreading something, but so many gym leaders imply or outright say that the gym position came later than their other job and clearly don’t prioritize the gym itself. If anything, I would wager being a gym leader is the side hustle or a PR thing and not the other way around. Also if I were chasing the bag I prolly would not be doing abstract sculpting

#genuinely don’t understand where this idea is coming from but I see posts abt it all the time #I’ll admit tho that the concept of someone starting a successful rap career as a side hustle is kind of hysterical #mod vex

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