#Michael has the right idea here

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanessa is about rich as hell in FNAF

[shadystranger]

I watched the man I love die

[foxmulderautism]

looking myself in the mirror like am I really about to completely reshuffle the lover boy timeline just so i can get the single release of i want your sex in there and write beau’s live reaction

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Michael Kaiser who came home with the house looking rather cold and empty.

Imagine Kaiser who just came home after a long season, snow dust all over his shoulder as he relaxed as soon as he steps home only to find the lights turned off, making the evening dark like it already is. In an instant, he turned stiff as his cold palms started to sweat.

Imagine the way he just stood there, bag hanging heavily on his shoulder as he stood there unmoving. Then his eyes lay upon the snow slowly falling outside. He could feel his heart picking up its phase. The way his vision starts to reflect on the window pane and instead of finding his reflect in the mirror, his old, younger, dirty little rat self was the one he saw.

Imagine the way he starts to recall none of his painful childhood but rather the less and less time he get to spend with you. Ever since the season started he was gone most of the time and just recently, he played overseas before coming back and playing within the league once again. He did not fail to notice how you seemed to be hiding something from him nowadays. The way you woukd excuse yourself in the calls earlier than usual.

Imagine the way he starts to panic upon the suddenly realisation that you may have left. Left because he was too busy on everything but you. That you grew tired of him. Well he knew how nasty he could be, how rude and annoyingly aggressive he could be. But you would not leave him right? He could change, he will change, he could be better- woof!

Imagine the way he pause once again. The breath that he did not even notice he was holding finally escape. Did he just hallucinate a dog? "No buddy, be quiet. Der vati would be here in a few moments okay? Hold it in till then." Okay maybe he was not hallucinating. Or maybe he was, maybe you left and he was just fooling himself you didn't. Woof!

Imagine the way he hesitated, the way his hands slowly reach out to touch the switch lights and finally give light into the house. He did not missed the way he heard a gasp coming from the kitchen but even still, that did not make him feel any better, more than ever, it made him nervous. What if his fears come true? What if you are not in there? What if you truly left? What was he supposed to do then?

Imagine upon entering the kitchen area, the first thing he noticed was the presence of people in there and upon looking at the kitchen island. His blue eyes met with a pair of (eye color) ones. There you were, a piece of crisy bread crust rusk in hand as you take a bite only to choke upon making an eye contact with him. With no time to waste, Kaiser hurry up to help up, and as soon as your throat clear up, you burst into laughter.

"Heilige scheiße baby, when I was hoping to surprise you, this was not part of the plan." Kaiser hates surprises. "Nevertheless, happy birthday baby. Take you being born, you're the best gift I could ever have" Michael Kaiser hates surprises, it makes him vulnerable, the way he doesn't know how to react. "I tried my best but this is the best recipe I could make with your favourite food, crispy bread crust rusk." Kaiser hates surprises, makes him look back in the days were he often thought of one only to be hurt and disappointed. "Also." You whistle, then a hurry small steps echoed in the kitchen. "Here." You picked up a familiar dog. The dog the two of you often saw whenever you went out a walk. "I know I could have adopted a new puppy in the shelter but on my way into the shelter I come across him and was like, why no take this one in- baby, are you okay?"

Imagine the way you took a step forward towards him, setting down the dog as he watches you reach out a hand to touch him. Only when you wiped away his tears did he knew he has tears rolling down his cheeks. "Baby- scheiße- sorry, I suck at surprise. I knew it was a bad idea. I'm sorry-" You were cut off when he grab a hold of your hand and gently caresses it.

Imagine, Michael Kaiser hates surprises. It make him feel like a fool know he does not know what to react. At the same time, he realised he was no longer the child who have nothing, have nothing but a stolen ball. "Meine liebe." He do not know the face he was making but he felt bad for making you cry too. Gently, he let go of your hand and gold you on your cheeks before leaning down to have your forehead pressed upon each other. "Danke, Ich liebe dich." Woof! Maybe surprises wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[issdisgrace]

Getting giddy over here for some slasher content.

So I had an idea of a gn or male reader who had really strong or sharp teeth? Like for example if a bottle cap isnt coming off theyll just unscrew it with their teeth or even pop it off! Like headcannons

Open for any slasher content your pick because i’m in for it regardless‼️ (Stu definitely. I think he a cutie.) (ALSO sfw or nsfw stuff i’ll take it.) LOVE YOUR WRITTINGS!

SLASHERS WITH AN S/O THAT HAS SHARP TEETH

WARNINGS: SFW and NSFW content below the cut so read at your own risk

BO

Bo didn’t initially notice your teeth. But boy when he does they are his new favorite thing about you. He’s all over you. Making out constantly and adding in tongue so he can feel up your teeth a little less blatantly than sticking his fingers in your mouth and feeling them up.

Wants to do everything and anything that involves your teeth. Nip him with your teeth, bite him till the point he bleeds, drag out his pleasure with your teeth. Nothing, absolutely nothing is off the table with him.

MICHAEL

When Michael first saw your teeth and how sharp they were he did his signature held tilt. Then after this he quite literally shoved his fingers in your mouth and felt all up on your teeth. To say that he’s now OBSESSED with them is an understatement.

Has always had a thing for teeth but you have amplified it by 1000 percent. He likes to shove his hand into your mouth and feel your teeth while jerking himself off.

OTIS

Otis has seen some crazy stuff so your teeth don’t bother him and he doesn’t really think about them. However time to time he does hyper fixates on them and will shove his hands into you mouth so he can touch them and admire them.

Please please bite every inch of his body to the point that he’s covered head to toe in his own blood. And straight up if you do this he will ask you to marry him right on the spot.

PATRICK

Patrick loves your teeth. He always has and always will but he specially loves when you grin. It’s like a wolf who’s cornered its prey or like a cat with a canary in its mouth. And let me tell when he sees you grin it causes his heart skip a beat and gets him all hot and flushed.

He likes when you tease him with your teeth. Drag you teeth down his body. Bite him.

THOMAS

Thomas noticed your teeth when you first smiled at him. Your smile looked off to him and he was confused at first why at first. Sensing his confusion you quickly realized why and told him your teeth were sharp. He was like ok and went on with his day but he was curious about them.

Thomas WANTS to desperately know how your teeth would feel grazing his cock as you go down on him. But he’s too shy to ask you to blow him.

VINCENT

Vincent is utterly fascinated by your teeth. He wants to know when they got so sharp and how they got so scarp. This fascination blends into him drawing your so expect for your jaw to be sore from having it open so he can draw each and every one.

Vincent loves when you bite him to the point he bleeds because then he knows that he’s yours but also he loves the way your bite marks look on his skin.

[retroaria]

NSFW kaiser hcs plsplspls omggg >.<

MICHAEL KAISER: NSFW Headcanons

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write these so bad but i needed the motivation so thank you anon lemme give you a kiss 💋

sorry this is so short 😓

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 🦋

• kaiser is 100% the dominant one in bed, but that doesn’t mean he won’t let you top him. he’s a service top/soft dom (most of the time), so he’ll let you do whatever will get you off as long as he gets to participate.

• he loves being marked up. bite marks, scratch marks, bruises on his shoulders, hickeys all over his neck and collar bone, he could stare at himself in the mirror and drool at the sight of your work on him. especially likes the comments he gets from his teammates in the locker room, usually gives a half assed response or brushes it off. feels there’s no explanation needed, he simply fucked you so good you literally had to hold on for dear life and try to eat him lol.

• if you didn’t read my virgin!kaiser post here it is. if you did then you KNOW how i feel about about this topic. unpopular opinion: he is not a whore. kaiser would absolutely save himself for someone special, so chances are he lost his virginity to you. he’s done lots of foreplay with other people in the past, but he didn’t go all the way until he met you and when it happened he was hooked. kaiser has an insatiable libido but he does know how to control himself. just know that you’ll be getting tons of horny texts, nudes, phone calls just so he can hear your voice while he jerks off, he’s a menace.

• he is EAGER to learn about you and your body and every little thing he can do to make you squirm. would spend hours just touching and playing with you to figure it out. teases and edges you all the time (likes to edge himself a little too). wants you to tell him what you want, loves hearing you verbalize your sexual desires.

• will make you talk about sex in inappropriate situations. he’ll whisper dirty words in your ear and smile at you. dinner with the fam? “You’d look so pretty bent over this table.” tries to coax you into joining the mile high club any time you take a flight. he has absolutely no filter when it comes to talking about sex. will reminisce on last nights ministrations while you’re in the car, out to eat, whispering over to you at the movie theater. he’ll ask if you liked certain things he did, if you want to try something different, tell you yet again how good you were for him.

• he’s not a fan of toys aside from vibrators for you but i can see him being into some light bondage perhaps? he likes when he can fuck you and you can’t touch him or yourself.

• kaiser doesn’t like the idea of others watching you guys fuck but he likes the idea of them knowing he’s fucking you if that makes sense. wants you to be loud when there’s other people in the room next to you. makes sure his thrusts are hard enough to my the door or the bed shake and creek. he only does this if he’s around people you guys know. doesn’t want random people to know y’all are fucking but definitely like if he’s teammates or friends are around, rival teams too perhaps.

• this boy loves intimacy so much, as horny as he is, he likes to make sex with you special when he can. when he comes back from playing in another country, desperately yearning for your touch, he does everything in his power to make it the most romantic and passionate experience for you. he takes his time and keeps his pace at a cool medium, not too fast but he doesn’t drag them out too much. kisses everywhere the entire time, can’t take his lips off your perfect skin that he’s missed so much. can’t stand to see it without a single sign of him, so he’s marking you up along the way. moaning your name right into your ear and mumbling “i love you”’s into the crook of your neck. he’s going for as long as possible by the way, switching positions, eating you out for what feels like forever, he could go all night like this.

• he isn’t the kinkiest guy but he will try whatever you want to try. doesn’t mind if he has to be a little mean to you or even if he has to be a little submissive. really cares about sex being an enjoyable experience so he wants to make sure you’re both getting to explore your fantasies. i could see him being into roleplay a little ngl.

• i’m sorry but this man has a perfect dick. it’s like 5-6 inches, not too big not too small, his girth fills his length perfectly, he has a very slight upwards curve that prods into your sweet spots perfectly every time. he keeps himself excessively well groomed. when he gets undressed in front of you all you can do is stare in awe at how pretty he is. his shaft is the same pale tone as the rest of his skin, his veins aren’t very prominent and his tip is pink and cute???? Idk call me weird IDC he’s a pretty boy.

[ghostgirl101]

Oliver Quick Being Obsessed With You Would Include...

A/N: Watched this recently and got too many ideas because it's what I do 😀 if you've got any requests for the Saltburn crew then drop them in my inbox and I'll get round to them. Have fun reading- just know that there are obviously spoilers for the Saltburn movie here, so if you haven't watched it, zip to the cinema and come back 😎 or don't.

☓• It's hard to know where to start with Oliver... all I can say is that once you're in his sights, you're never getting out of them. Big never. Even if he has to wait years to get what he wants, he'll wait, and he will get it. And of course, the it we're talking about here is lucky you. So lucky you 🙃

☓• Say goodbye to your close friends and possibly your family if they're taking up too much of your time or happen to see through his harmless, quiet, normal act to something a lot darker and obsessive tainting his pure blue eyes every time they latch onto you. No one's managed to get in his way yet, and it stays that way.

☓• The first unknowing encounter with Oliver must have been somewhere around Oxford Uni, where you all go to and study. Maybe in the library, outside talking to friends - doing practically anything and making it look amazing and beautiful and something to be wanted above anything. He watches you a lot, a lot a lot, before you bump into each other, because the meeting has to be perfectly natural and it's his only chance to start things off on the right foot.

☓• Coincidences happen a lot and no one can be called out on them, because nothing seems to be wrong yet. You'll end up spending the majority of your time with him, maybe even without realising, whilst he finds out ways to know more about you and get closer to you. Oliver's not so good when it comes to talking about himself, telling you with one of his awkward but earnest half-smiles that he's not half as interesting, and so the conversation ends up steering back to you. From family life to friends, growing up, hobbies, favourite colour, tell him anything and everything. Because he won't forget a single thing.

☓• He's easy with where you want to go to hang out too, so long as he's there. You could just be talking with your friends in the nearby pub or at a party where the invite was extended to him as he's with you, or studying together at the library. Ignore the weird looks from Michael.

☓• But what Oliver prefers above all that is just being together and alone, maybe in your dorm room, or just out somewhere at a park or at the bridge, sitting and talking, opening yourself up more and more to him. This boy is an incredible listener. If your voice trails off when you become self-conscious of how much you're rambling, all you'll get in response is Oliver blinking out of his trance and giving you a calm smile and a shrug. "No, it's fine, I don't mind. Carry on."

☓• Number one supporter, naturally. Oliver tries to be the best friend and more, so hard, with you. He'll be anything you want and need him to be without you even having to mention it. Whatever club or team you're on, he'll give you a little wave and small grin from the sidelines... take a few pictures when you're not looking. For safekeeping.

☓• It can get more than a little frustrating for him when you're distracted by your other 'friends' at Oxford, even if it's something as small as looking over essay answers and revision notes with Farleigh. There's always a back-and-forth thing happening between those two, and so when Farleigh starts becoming friendly with you and outrightly mocking with Oliver, to you, all that will happen is Oliver giving him an unblinking, blank look that looks a touch too cold and repressive, before he ignores him. And that's all you'll ever know about it.

☓• If you happen to stick up for Oliver when someone brings up how different and odd he is, a bit awkward to talk to and a cheapskate or whatever, he'll never get over it. You stuck up for him. That just proves that he was right about you, from the second his dark gaze latched onto your unknowing self just a few weeks ago. He was right. You're... perfect.

☓• There's so much good about Oliver, that if you ever hear anything different, it's hard to actually believe it. It's just Farleigh causing trouble, or gossip that has gotten out of hand again, not actual hints of something deeper bubbling beneath the surface. Oliver would never watch you outside your dorm room at night, what are they on about? And when Oliver hears of them too, or gets the worries out of you when he instantly notices that something's up, he'll act as effortlessly, convincingly confused as you are. If there's the slightest bit of proof in the accusation, he'll cover it up with a flawless explanation that swerves away from him and onto someone else within a second, while still seeming without grudges towards anyone. "You shouldn't listen to them, they're just trying to get in your head. Or maybe they want you for themself or something. I mean, I can understand that. Completely."

☓• You will eventually notice just how clingy Oliver can get when he seems to be everywhere around you, and you might be looking for a moment to yourself. If you gently bring it up, he'll reluctantly go on the promise that you'll text him back, which gives him time to change tactics. He will go as far as saying someone in his family died, or as small as admitting that the isolation from everyone who is so different to him in this place makes him feel a bit broken up. Maybe he should leave? And you, being you, encourage him to stay on and hang out with you and your friends, and boom, his back in.

☓• It's so easy for Oliver to subtly manipulate his surroundings and its people. Everyone, except for you. With you, the manipulation comes in seemingly natural events, nothing too forward. Because what he likes the most is you coming to him with whatever, problems, thoughts, feelings. Then he's done his job, and everything else that will build up a beautiful, beautiful relationship, will slip into place for him.

☓• Again, everything has to be perfect, and it will be. Maybe your first kiss with him is on your birthday, or out somewhere nice as a treat with some other rich friends. Or it's just you two having a movie marathon or pulling an all-nighter. Every time, he'll inch closer with little sweet, honest lines spoken in a calm, low tone, his eyes locked with yours and scarcely blinking. "Do you know how loveable you are?" "I think that your smile is something to live for." "I never want to be without you."

☓• Oliver will edge closer and closer, holding hands, brushing your hair back from your face when you're reading with a tender touch, meeting your eye and not letting go until you smile in bashful amusement and look away. He'll meet you outside all your classes and bring you your favourite drinks and study notes that he got from his work, so that you never fail an exam. Oliver's a lifesaver, one of your closest friends, someone who's always there for you to be whatever you need whenever you need. A great comforter, supporter, study buddy, moral support, you name it. He created and adapted himself to be boyfriend material especially for you, and so it happens, and he's won, like he knew he did the second he saw you. Now he can be as clingy and overly affectionate and outwardly obsessive as he wants, all day, all night, tirelessly. And don't think he won't.

☓• Straight-up, he's a starer. And I mean starer when you think you're alone in your room, starer when you were with a fling or someone you might have been interested in before... before Oliver worked his magic behind the scenes. Now it's a lot easier to, when you're in a relationship, because he can pass off his staring as something romantic, which it kind of is, without the dangerous obsessiveness lacing it. You'll look up from your phone or wake up in the night to see Oliver's eyes on you in wonder and something else you can't quite place, before you smile and ask him what it is. It's always the same answer with the same soft, adoring smirk that manages to make your cheeks flush with colour and smile back. It's not 'nothing.' It's always, just, "You."

☓• Once he's got things how he wanted them, if anything tries to ruin it, they will have literal hell to pay. He did not come this far for nothing. It's an agonising process of waiting and being patient so he wouldn't scare you off, getting gradually and naturally closer to this point. So whether it's Farleigh telling his tales or playing off his tricks, or someone else pointing out the unobvious obvious, good luck to them, because one of his special coincidences will fall right onto their heads.

☓• And if, by a twisted turn of events, you walk into one of Oliver's schemes, and see flecks of his true, darker self and violent, delusional side unearthed from his usually calm and easy way, he'll beg you with racking tears and heaving breaths and literal vomit to stay. He'll do anything, just as he has been doing anything, for you. What he's saying and doing is suddenly terrifying, and whether or not you want to accept him as freely is your choice, but if not, Oliver won't go away. He'll wait some more if you manage to escape his grasp this time. See you in a few years as an adult, maybe. When you're vulnerable in different ways and water's gone under the bridge. He'll slip right back into your life like he was always meant to be there, with his earnest, devoting praise and comfort and support, and that's Oliver Quick's life come back together yet again, with you lost at its centre. Trapped.

[charliedawn]

Nurse brings their baby to work because they couldn't find the baby sitter. And the baby first word is dad. how would the slasher react to suddenly being called dad???

Michael Myers

Michael stares at the baby in your arms, his expression hidden behind his mask, but you can sense his surprise. He wasn’t expecting to be called dad, and the word feels foreign to him. For a moment, he freezes, his usual menacing air disappearing as he just stares. Slowly, he reaches out, his hand gently touching the baby's tiny fist. Though he doesn't say anything, there's a subtle shift in his body language, a quiet acceptance of the title.

Yeah. That baby is gonna have a great dad.

Jason Voorhees

Jason, who is often seen as a protector in his own way, might feel a wave of unexpected emotion. He has affection for them and the appellation dad did make him still for a second, reminding him of what he once longed for—a family and love. He crouches down slowly, tilting his head in that childlike way he sometimes does, unsure of how to react but clearly moved. Gently, he pats the baby’s head, trying to be as soft as possible, his usually violent hands becoming tender. Jason lost his father at a young age, and he would make sure that doesn’t happen with your baby.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy's reaction would be more layered. He'd laugh, finding the idea of being called dad by your child both amusing and strange. "Well, look who’s got great taste," he’d tease, his grin wide and mischievous. "Calling me daddy, huh ? Heck. I might start to like you, ya lil’ goblin !"

But deep down, there might be a flicker of something else—perhaps a sense of pride, though he’d never admit it. He’d probably try to play it off, cracking jokes, but you’d catch a glimmer in his eyes that says it means more than he lets on. Freddy wanted to be a father, before he died. But he never got the chance. So, he’d be secretly happy to keep an eye on your baby.

Chucky

Chucky would be taken aback, but his pride would swell almost instantly. "That's right, kid ! Dad's here !" he’d say with a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the title. He’d probably pick up the baby—carefully, for once—and start telling them how lucky they are to have him as their father. Chucky would take this as an ego boost and start acting like he's the best "dad" in the room, making jokes and pretending to give fatherly advice.

He would be the type of father to fight tooth and nail for his kid though—even though he pretends not to care.

Norman Bates

Norman would be stunned, unsure how to process being called dad. His face would soften as a mix of emotions flicker across his expression—uncertainty, fear, and a strange sense of warmth. He’s never really had anyone look to him in such a way before, and it would catch him off guard. "Dad…" he’d repeat softly, almost as if testing the word himself. There’s a brief moment where you see a tender, vulnerable side of him emerge. He’d be happy. But…He would also be conflicted because he’s never really had a father figure before and he would be afraid to not be up to the task…

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms would be overjoyed, his eyes lighting up with excitement as the baby calls him dad. He loves the idea of family and devotion, so this would feel like an affirmation of the bond he craves. "Did you hear that ? They called me dad !" Brahms would say, almost giddy with happiness. He’d immediately want to hold the baby, showing an unusually gentle side, savoring the moment as if it cements his place in your life even more deeply. He’d also wonder what it would be like to be YOUR partner…to be the real father of the child. Let me say, Brahms would actually buy you a wedding ring if that meant you would let him be yours and the baby’s family.

Bo Sinclair

Bo would smirk at first, his Southern drawl slipping out, "Well, ain’t that somethin’ ?" He’d be caught off guard, unsure if he should embrace it or brush it off. But deep down, the idea of being called dad would actually make him proud and happy. He’d probably roll with it, giving you a cocky smile, but you’d know from the way he looks at the baby that it’s gotten to him more than he’ll admit. He would wait until you are out of the room before kissing the baby’s forehead and whispering to it.

"Yeah…I’m yer Pa now, baby. And me and ya are gonna make yer mama so happy. You’ll see."

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wouldn’t show much outward reaction at first, his face hidden beneath his mask, but he’d pause. The idea of being called dad by your child would stir something deep inside, something warm and unfamiliar. He’d probably kneel down, gently offering his hand to the baby, who’d grab onto his fingers. In that small, quiet moment, Vincent would silently accept the title, his body language soft and careful.

He would also take a picture—to remember that moment forever.

Pennywise

Pennywise would be utterly caught off guard. He’d be playing his usual mischievous role, trying to get the baby to laugh with goofy faces or strange noises when the word dad slips out. He’d freeze, his sharp teeth momentarily retreating, eyes widening in shock. "Dad, huh? Well, that’s new," he’d chuckle, though the sound would be a bit strained, a mix of amusement and uncertainty. Deep down, Pennywise would be torn between his natural chaos-loving self and an unfamiliar, almost protective instinct. After all, the word dad is reserved for those who care, and that’s not something he’s entirely familiar with. He doesn’t care. About anything or anyone. Still, he might lean into it, thinking of it as a twisted joke between the two of you, but somewhere in the back of his mind, the idea of being important to someone would linger.

Pennywise *hesitates before taking the baby in his arms* : "…You’re one ugly baby. But…I guess that’s okay. That just means am gonna have to take care of you."

Penny

Penny, on the other hand, would be thrilled. The second the baby says dad, he’d light up with genuine excitement, clapping his hands and letting out a loud, gleeful laugh. "Oh, did you hear that ? I’m dad !" he’d exclaim, picking up the baby and twirling them around carefully. Unlike his brother, Penny wouldn’t be conflicted—he’d embrace the title with his usual boundless joy, seeing it as the highest honor. He’d probably carry the baby around for the rest of the day, boasting to the others with pride.

Jack Torrance

Jack's reaction to being called dad by your baby would be complex. At first, he might freeze, his mind racing between his past as a father and the present moment. A flash of old memories might cross his face—memories of his son, Danny, and how things went terribly wrong. He might force a smile, but it wouldn’t reach his eyes. "Dad, huh ?" he’d mutter, his voice tinged with a strange mix of affection and unease. There’s a part of him that wants to embrace the title, to be a better father this time, but there’s another part—the darker part—that’s afraid of what that responsibility could mean for him. You’d catch a glimpse of his inner struggle as he tries to keep it together, quietly stepping back while nervously running a hand through his hair.

Jack would likely need a moment to collect himself, caught between the warmth of being seen as a father again and the haunting fear of repeating his past mistakes.

[rae-writes]

An Angel?

om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon, Mephi, Raph)

wc : 2.k

warnings : more simping bois, more humor, a lot more sprinkles of suggestive comments

synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you, part two: electric boogaloo

a/n : for the record, Luke was in the room while Mc was making it, cheering them on, doing his cute little “Waahhh!” // idea brought to me by the lovely [your-next-daydream]​ // AND, as usual, let’s not talk about how ridiculously long this took me to finish ahaha rip me-

demon ver. 

<Simeon> Mc looks rather...heavenly, don’t you agree? 

[attachment sent] 

Intrigued, he wasted no time in clicking on the file, grinning when he realized it was one of your deviltoks. Decked out in your RAD uniform, you sat in a chair with your hands clasped together. 

“Who are you?” 

Smoothly, almost as if you were floating, you stood and took a few steps towards the camera with a rather shy smile. 

“An angel.” 

You bowed ever so slightly, flitting your gaze to the floor. 

“What’s your name?”

You spun suddenly, sending your red accessory swooshing in front of the camera, covering everything from view. 

“Michael.”

As fast as the transition happened, it ended; the view was cleared to reveal you— angelic down to a T and beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe you. 

You were adorned with sheer, white clothing that was loose and flowy, probably swaying due to a fan that was off camera. Light blue accents were scattered here and there- including an extension piece in your hair of the same color. Sparkling gold accessories glinted under the light, but not as much as the halo that hovered above your head. It was a gorgeous molten gold tint, partly transparent with glitter floating around inside (with a few cracks decorating the outside of it). It only brought attention to the snowy wings spanning out behind you, flecks of iridescent scattered amongst the feathers. 

[9 people saved a video attachment]

Lucifer

Ah. Yes. He’s not combusting on the inside, not at all. 

*insert internal screaming*

Ahem. Now that his jaw has been picked up off the floor, he is immediately wondering how the fuck Simeon of all people got access to the video before him

Don’t get him wrong though, he is on the way right now- leave the door open, Mc

He has to put his marks all over your body to get rid of the fact that you looked that pretty while using Michael’s name

Possessive urges aside, please keep the outfit on

Does not care if you’re dressed up like an Angel, he will gladly corrupt you

In fact, he wants to corrupt you- let him see that pact mark of his while you look so angelic, yeah?

might be into role playing it if you’d like

Mammon

Blinks a couple times before looking around slowly; poor boy really thought he’d been yeeted back to the celestial realm for a minute there

It’s all quiet before suddenly everyone in the house (and probably outside) hears “HOLY FUCK WHAT”

You never cease to amaze him, by the devils, is he in love 

The blush on his face- if he was anything other than a demon- would look severely concerning. Like no, it’s not a red beacon of light, it’s just him coming through the halls

Is creepin outside ya door practically on his knees. Please let him in. His greed is flared and you’re the only cure even if you’re also the reason

He is dying to have a diy photo shoot of the two of you in your angel fit

Step on him. Do it- it’s the perfect angle, the shot comes out beautifully and he is putting it right in his wallet once it’s developed 

Will step on you in return if you ask

You’ll let him kiss all over your body, wontcha, Mc? (he’ll even be gentle with his fangs when he nibbles around that golden necklace you’ve got on)

Levi

*cue his very nervous yet giddy laughter*

This is just like that anime he saw last week called ‘Help! My human s/o just turned into an Angel but I’m a demon and actually kind of into this?!” 

Seriously though, you look so beautiful, Levi was immediately down in the floor with his face covered and tail wagging 

Please allow 3-4 business months before he can recover 

Jk lol he’s hovering in your doorway before you you can even click on his contact

Shyly asks if he can touch your halo and wings (and ends up with his tail wrapped around you, knocking you side to side because it’s still attempting to wag) 

Unlike the eldest brother, Levi practically begs you to roleplay this with him and have a cosplay photoshoot 

Will shamelessly keep you to himself for the rest of the day and hiss at everyone who gets too close 

Please sit on him and call him mean names while also holding him sweetly 

Satan

Sign him tf up- he’s got a pen at the ready 

Irony aside, Satan thinks you look absolutely stunning— straight out of a fairy tale 

Irony not aside, Satan is actually so into this and craves to play it out with you

He was never an Angel to begin with, he was born a demon; just thinking about making your ivory wings turn black makes him excited 

Satan understands it’s just a simple spell you’ve casted so he won’t get too out of sorts (but if you like it, then what’s the harm?) 

Wants to read a forbidden love trope book and maybe act out some of the scenes while you’re still dressed like that 

The hopeless romantic in him is front and center the entire time

If you think he’s gonna let you go now, you’re sorely mistaken— let his brothers try and take you away 

He’s got tons of scenarios to act out if you can handle him 

Asmo

That weird high pitched sound you hear from across the house that should be something only dogs can hear? Yeah that’s Asmo squealing

Posting your video EVERYWHERE bc everyone needs to see how fucking gorgeous you look 

You can hear his footsteps from a mile away as he hurries to your room 

He MUST see your outfit in person ASAP

Azzy. Is. So. Fucking. Down. For. This. Shit. He thinks he’s dreamed about this once actually  

Please let him just examine every inch of you, he’s begging

Once again his camera is out and ready for a photoshoot and his demon form is out right alongside it 

He will be keeping you for the next 24-48 hours thanks

Beel

Choked. Again. 

Don’t be alarmed by the loud rumbling sound— it’s not Beel’s stomach for once, but instead a growl

He didn’t mean to make that sound but you just look so— and he just— and you— and and— A a a A A��

Has that cute little blush plastered over his face all. day. 

Might be tempted- or actually try- to take a bite out of your halo or something else ifykyk

Rewatches the video at least ten times because you're just. Wow. Wow. W O W. 

Is now in the mood to eat some celestial realm food with you 

though his appetite is half for food and half for you 

Pls don’t mind his staring or the way he’s probably drooling a bit, he can’t help it :(

Belphie 

“...wait, what?”

Lays there staring at the ceiling for a moment bc PHEW you got him sweating and he hasn’t even moved yet-

Manages a straight face all the way until he enters your room and sees the outfits in person

To which he is, once again, dropping right at your feet with a look of ‘PLEASE’

He needs a whole ass minute or two to catch his breath from how fucking gorgeous you look and then he needs another whole ass minute or two to scan you over again

Please sit on him

Is uncharacteristically stuttering through every sentence— how can he possibly concentrate on stupid words in these [amazing] conditions?!

Gatekeeping you AGAIN

Underneath you the entire. time. 

Barbatos

*windows shutdown* 

*windows restart*

…aaand we’re back ladies and gentlemen and every cool dude in between but Barbatos is still fucking astonished— absolutely flabbergasted at how badly he’s got it for you

He dropped everything he was carrying in that moment and swiftly picked it back up, hoping no one saw

Diavolo saw. He recorded the entire thing and sent it to you, zooming in on Barbatos’ blush

There’s just something primal in him that makes him want to sink his teeth into you and coil his tail around your body so that you won’t be able to go anywhere else until he lets you

Everyone be damned, Barb will be having you to himself for the entire night

Will also run his fingers along the faux wings and halo before he absolutely ruins you until the magic dissipates

He is…totally normal about the entire thing..

Diavolo

His father help him— Diavolo is so incredibly thankful for the exchange program

Is OUT of the castle at mach speed before Barbatos can even say otherwise

And then he’s speeding right back and summoning you to him instead so he can have you to himself

Mans is kneeling at your fucking feet the second he lays eyes on you

And while it isn’t ‘proper’ for someone who wants unity between all three realms to want to corrupt you— 

—he does. So badly. He thinks he might even beg you for it 

Also wants to take a picture of the two of you with him in his demon form (it’s the it picture for weeks after he posts it)

Cannot stop looking at your halo; please let him touch it

(If you slowly begin altering your wings to bleed black, he’s practically foaming at the mouth—) 

bonus: 

Simeon

*sharp inhale* . . . *yeets halo*

He deadass forgets he’s an Angel himself for a few minutes bc he’s too busy simping fawning over you 

God who?? Like get tf outta the way, beep beep, archangel on a mission comin through 

Is begging as soon as he steps foot through your door. Please, please let him touch you and explore— he should be ashamed with how unabashed he is but fuck look at you 

Will let his own wings out just so you can compare your angels forms (melted on the spot when you brushed your wings against his)

Honestly can’t decide if he wants you to corrupt him or if he wants to corrupt you…or both at the same time

He’s not sharing you. Not now. Not like this. 

You may look like an angel, and he may be an angel, but he won’t treat you like one tonight 

If you do the fancy trick of letting your wings turn black, he’s completely bowing down to whatever you wish right then and there 

Solomon

Kinda forgot he was immortal for a split second and wondered if he’d either died or accidentally traveled to the celestial realm

Gains his bearings rather quickly, but the hold you have on him is still very much there

And he’d like you to have a hold around his throat— what? Who said that??

His pretty little blush where he averts his eyes all nervously? YEAH THAT

He’s taken aback for a couple moments before his usual shit eating grin comes back but that blush? Still there. 

Backs you against a wall, in a corner, and let’s his hands roam with a small laugh, quietly asking how you manage to make him lose composure so easily 

Is so soft and sweet for a minute before his eyes darken and that SEXY smirk crawls onto his face

Plucks that halo right from above your head and tosses it behind his shoulder because how could he possibly do what he has planned if you’re an angel?

Makes your wings bloom black himself (and challenges how long you can handle him)

extra little bonus: 

Mephisto 

Simply raises a brow and wonders why the hell his body got so hot all the sudden 

Ignores the video for a couple hours until he realizes he can’t stop fucking thinking about it 

Promptly decides he’s going to go straight to you and demand how dare you invade his thoughts like this 

And then promptly decides he’d rather just revert to using his hands instead when the sight of you makes his mouth dry and water at the same time

Will take it upon himself, right then, to corrupt you

Because there’s no way in the seven rings of hell he’s letting you switch sides and he’ll break the magic you’re using as proof

After though *cough cough* he will bashfully tell you how gorgeous you looked…

Raphael

Let me tell you, mans was not ready 

Like if you’ve seen the video of the person with a stacked ass on the stretcher being carried by and the news reporter’s face afterwards, that’s Raphael. 

Luke takes a picture of his expression and makes a meme

Won’t address it until the very next day, stiffly telling you that your outfit was very pleasing to the eye (he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous, okay, he’s just struggling)

If you offer to show him in person, he is ascending right back home. Won’t deny, though. Like please do. 

In awe for the whole experience 

And blushes an alluring deep shade if you show him some ‘corruption’ tricks you have up your sleeve

[harunayuuka2060]

WHB Series #1 (Cont.)

MC: *ended up living in a large villa after the three seraphs decided to accompany them to the human world*

Bimet: Do you need anything else?

MC: No, this should be enough. Give my thanks to Mammon.

Bimet: ...

Bimet: Do you feel like your plan is backfiring on you?

MC: Not at all, though it sure hell is annoying.

Bimet: *smirks*

Bimet: I'll be going back now. Don't hesitate to reach out if you need more assistance. *disappears*

Michael: *approaches them* I didn’t expect you to make this decision, but I’m very pleased nonetheless.

MC: ...

MC: I wouldn't have any issue accommodating Raphael and Gabriel, but sending Michael back alone would be a problem.

Michael: *smiling*

MC: And this fucker is aware of that.

MC: *smiles back* That's great to hear. Honestly, I can't wait to enjoy this vacation with my lovely seraphs.

Michael: I’ll make sure you’re entertained, descendant of Solomon. By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve prepared a bedchamber just for the two of us.

MC: *disgusted face*

Michael: *chuckles*

MC: *is on the phone with Minhyeok*

Minhyeok: You should have stayed here.

MC: And what are you gonna do?

Minhyeok: ...

Minhyeok: *sigh* I'm worried.

MC: Dude, you worry over every single thing.

Minhyeok: ...

Minhyeok: Can you at least tell me where the villa is? I'll visit you.

MC: No.

Minhyeok: ...Okay. If you don't want me to go there, how about asking one of the kings to keep them in check?

MC: That won't be possible. They have a country to— Wait. Actually, that's a good idea.

Bael: Where are you going this time, Bel?

Beelzebub: MC has requested me.

Bael: *confused* The descendant of Solomon?

Beelzebub: If you don't want to believe me, here's their text message.

Bael: ...

Bael: *frowns* They’re just asking you to send a clone of yourself.

Beelzebub: Ah, but that won't do. *chuckles*

Bael: ...

Raphael, Gabriel, and Michael: *look displeased*

Beelzebub: Hi~. We meet again~. *hugs MC*

Beelzebub: You look stressed~. Let Belbel take care of you. *with a kissy face*

MC: *already regrets choosing him*

Gabriel: Even though you're a king, you have no right to embrace god!

Beelzebub: Hm~? *hugs them even tighter*

Beelzebub: Is it wrong for me to show the creator of all the love they deserve?

MC: No doubt. The real god will spite me for this.

Raphael: I understand your point, Beelzebub. However, god looks uncomfortable.

MC: Yes, he has a point.

Beelzebub: *loses his hold* *smiles* Sorry.

Michael: ...

Michael: *feels an undescribable jealousy*

MC: Raphael and Gabriel, you two will join me in my chamber. Beelzebub, feel free to choose any room you like in this villa. As for Michael, you are forbidden from entering mine.

Raphael and Gabriel: *quite pleased*

Michael: ...

Michael: That’s fine. I can just simply invite you to my room.

MC: *frowns*

Beelzebub: ...

Beelzebub: *realizing that the reports were true* Oh.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!” 

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place. 

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding. 

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to  theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.” 

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.” 

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between. 

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room  having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?” 

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it. 

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it. 

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it. 

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length. 

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

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[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie threw an arm over Steve's shoulder, bringing him into a half-hug, “So, what did you guys think?”

“It was great!” Steve said quickly, relaxing into Eddie’s side, “You guys killed it, dude!”

“He’s right,” Robin agreed, “It was awesome! Super, duper fun and we’re so glad we got to see it. But actually, we kinda got to go-”

Eddie frowned, the loose grip he had over Steve’s shoulder tightening on it’s own accord, “Go where? Don’t tell me you guys are tired already?”

For some reason, Robin didn’t look at him after he asked the question. Instead she looked to Steve, a brow raised as she waited for something. But then Steve was giving her a subtle nod, her queue to start talking again. She leaned in closer, whispering as loud as she could in the noisy environment, “So… you’re like cool, right? Steve said you were cool.”

Eddie cocked his head at her, beyond confused, “I-yes? I guess?”

“About the thing?” She pressed, jerking her head his direction, “Steve’s thing?”

“Oh!” Eddie blurted, finally catching on. But he still didn’t get what Steve being gay had to do with them ditching. He nodded quickly, “Very cool with it. Have zero issues.”

It was almost true. Whatever issues Eddie had with Steve’s sexuality involved his own bullshit more than anything else. Plus, his answer had Robin smiling. Gesturing for Eddie to lean in closer, “Good. Because we, um. Share the affliction if you catch my drift.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie said, not missing a beat. He had kind of figured that out along the way. Considering the process of elimination on who could have possibly talked Steve through his queer thoughts. Not that Eddie cared, “No problem here.”

“Good!” She said with a grin, “Then you know just how limited our options are where we live. And according to an insanely pretty girl, there is an honest to god gay bar, like a few blocks away!”

Eddie swallowed, discomfort suddenly settling in at the suggestion, “T-That’s where you guys are going?”

“Yeah!” She said excitedly, setting her sights back onto Steve, “It’s time for someone to realize that we are hot enough to flirt and be flirted with! Closets don’t matter when you’re hours away from home.”

“We share the exact same closet,” Steve groaned, “Don’t start preaching to me.”

“And tonight we can escape from it!” Robin argued, “Come on! Eddie’s going to be busy with his friends and groupies anyway. What else are we doing-”

“I’m actually not that busy,” Eddie interrupted, trying his damndest to keep his voice calm. Suddenly, he felt nauseous again. He didn’t-He knew Steve could handle himself. He did. B-But creeps were everywhere! And he wasn’t used to being around guys who only wanted one thing and Robin would be distracted with girls a-and Eddie was really struggling with this idea.

Though Steve seemed to disagree. The next thing he knew, Steve was smiling back at her. Letting out a good-natured sigh, “Fine, fine! We can go. Someone has to make sure you don’t get kidnapped.”

“Oh my god, yes!” Robin nearly squealed, bouncing a little in her seat, “This is gonna be so fun!”

Eddie’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in his his chest at the excitement, dread starting to fill him. He opened his mouth, words escaping before he could even think of it, “Sounds like you two might need a D.D. I can do it.”

It was probably the first time Eddie had ever invited himself to something he clearly wasn’t a part of. But he had to give himself some credit for how smoothly it came out. 

Robin looked up at him, clearly surprised, “Really? It’s not exactly your scene.”

Eddie shrugged, “It could be. I like George Michael.”

Steve snorted next to him, “That is the one true gay litmus test. You got us there.”

“Seriously though,” Eddie pressed, refusing to let it go, “Then you can both drink, dance, have fun. And not worry about how you’re getting back to the hotel.”

“But don’t you want to stay here?” Steve asked, “Robin wasn’t kidding about the groupies. You should have heard what some of them were saying.”

“You could definitely get laid,” Robin added. She was staring at him now, looking at Eddie in a way that seemed a little past confused. Like she was examining him. Testing him. Or maybe that was just in his head. 

Eddie held firm, “Maybe, but I’d rather hang out with you two vs playing wingman to the boys. What do you say?”

“If you really don’t mind…” Steve said, trailing off. But Eddie could tell that he was happy. He could barely keep his smile to himself as he looked to the side, biting his lip in a way that Eddie fucking knew other people would notice. How could they not? 

from the next chapter of this fic

[steviewashere]

Thinking about a fic idea right now where Steve comes out (maybe with a little Steddie...maybe; might be best to start them pre-relationship in this). Walk with me here.

Steve Harrington who has always been a huge Wham! fan. And then eventually a huge George Michael fan. He's got all their albums. Collects magazines with interviews in them (y'know, if there's a U.S. release). So, he's pretty much up to date with all news, music info; that kind of thing. He's always on the money about when interviews are.

George Michael who comes out publicly in 1998 after his arrest. Which, you can watch the clip from the interview here. He's thirty-four at the time, had been private about his sexuality and romantic life up until then.

Steve who's freshly in his thirties.

He's thirty-one. He's had some thoughts in regards to his sexuality for years now. Since Robin came out to him in 1985, he's thought about little things. The way certain guys walked that caught his attention, maybe the plushness of their lips, how they styled their hair. She's introduced him to queer culture at the time—pride parades & protests, some lingo, the handkerchief code, etc. So, he's well aware of a lot of things before the CNN interview airs. He hasn't made any hard connections between his sexuality and the thoughts in his head; maybe he's had a few, soft, questioning moments like: Am I gay? Am I bisexual? Is this what I really think or am I searching for something I don't actually want? Am I just being too observant?

(Okay, thinking about pre-Steddie now. And a lot of platonic soulmates Stobin. Also, I totally (accidentally) half-wrote a fic. Stay with me here.)

Eddie's been a part of Steve's life since 1986. Somehow he survives (don't ask me the fine details, I don't know). And Steve tries his hand at being Eddie's friend because he kind of—no, really—wants a guy friend who's around his age. Cue their shenanigans: the chaos they cause together, the pranks they pull on their other friends, the shit Eddie makes Steve get into (drag racing (cars), stealing scrap from the junkyard, throwing rocks over the quarry to guess the impact they made, other little town shit). Eddie who learns that Steve's a true ally to Robin, so he comes out to Steve, too. They all form a very great, deep bond of solidarity. Become roommates outside of Hawkins, somewhere a little more progressive. They protect each other. Listen to each other.

Cue the day in 1998 when the CNN interview is being aired live, unseen up until then. Steve's already ready to watch, having taken up the middle cushion on the couch. Robin's on his left, criss-cross and making a set of beaded bracelets for the three of them. Eddie's on Steve's right, uncapping a couple bottles of beer to pass over. And they're watching with Steve because Steve likes George Michael and, well, they like Steve and his interests. So they're all there when George Michael comes out. They're all there when the words are said live.

Robin and Eddie are wide-eyed, then laughing something a bit triumphant, high-fiving over Steve's head, maybe chanting something: "One of us! One of us!" Maybe becoming huge George Michael fans as they speak. But, Steve's silent. He's sitting on the edge of his cushion, palms down on his thighs, staring off into nothing. All the celebration stops as the interview continues, words being missed. And Robin and Eddie share an odd glance, a questioning one. Until, finally, Robin asks, "Steve-O? You OD over there?"

Steve blinks back into existence. Mutters, "Did George Michael just come out on live TV?" Eddie answers him truthfully, voice a bit soft and concerned. Steve licks his lips, doesn't move his eyes from his socked feet. "...He knew for a little while," he comments. "Right? He knew for a while."

"Sure, Steve," Eddie answers again. "He probably knew about himself for a long time. Probably...Honestly, probably while he was still in Wham."

Maybe Steve nods at that. Maybe he just stays kind of stoic, thinking too hard. "He's thirty-four," Steve points out.

"That he is," Robin answers this time. "Thirty-four and proudly out."

Steve hums some sort of acknowledgement and then goes back to watching the TV, moment drifting away. He sort of watches in a daze. Up until he turns in for the night. Well after Robin has slumped over on the couch and Eddie's gone to bed earlier—because he has work, or so Eddie's said. And Steve maybe sits in his bedroom, up at his headboard, looking down at his albums. At his Wham! and George Michael albums. Turning the tapes over in his hands, reading the track lists, maybe tracing the edges of the cases with his thumbs. Thinking about how George had said he was telling his life story, even through some of his earlier solo work. He's thinking about how successful George Michael has been. And then he thinks about how George Michael came out later in his life. In his thirties, not in his twenties, not in his teens. Sure, yes, it was definitely more negatively criticized to do so, but it means something to Steve. To be thirty-four and freshly out. And he thinks, too, about being thirty-one and things clicking into shiny clarity—he's into guys, too. He's into women, but he's into guys. That word, "bisexual" looking like the final jigsaw piece. To be thirty-one and proudly out, too.

And he's comforted in that thought, as he drifts off to sleep.

And when he wakes up in the morning, he bustles around Eddie and Robin in the kitchen. They make a shared breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast with jam. They sit at the dining table, forks against plates, shooting the shit back and forth.

Steve cuts a slice of sausage, puts it in his mouth, eats as usual. And just as the conversation is beginning to drift again, he finally speaks what's on his mind. "I'm bisexual," he's able to proudly state.

Maybe Eddie and Robin cheer, too for that. They ask him for his taste in guys. Maybe they tease him a little. Maybe Eddie realizes he fits the bill a little; maybe he waits a little bit before taking a shot, but he still does eventually.

And right before they head off for their respective, regular lives outside of the comfortable space of their apartment, Robin knocks their shoulders together. "Proud of you," she states. "Thirty-one and proudly out. How does it feel?"

They're in the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes because Eddie left for work already with a promise to bring home pizza for dinner. They're in the kitchen, the lights a little fluorescent like the Starcourt bathroom. They're in the kitchen, in each other's orbits, two friends who've seen it all and will continue to see the world together.

"It feels...I feel good. Excited."

Robin smiles at him, something soft and understanding. And as his focus goes back to the plate he's about to hand off, she snorts. "So, Eddie, huh?" And he scoffs, rolling his eyes. She just laughs to herself. Then, when she's calmed a little bit, she states, "He kind of looks like Rowlf. You and I have a thing for Muppets, Stevie. Muppets."

And after their laughter dies down and they live out the rest of the day, Steve thinks about how he can send a letter of thanks to George Michael. And maybe he cherishes those albums a little closer. And he is confident in himself for the first time in a while, all because the representation he didn't know he was seeking, is finally right in his face.

Sorry that got long. But I'm just thinking about Steve who comes out later in his life. Maybe he couldn't make those connections because he didn't have the safe atmosphere to do so; feared the worst if his parents ever realized he didn't care too much about women sometimes, if his eyes drifted to men a little too much, fearing that they'd catch his contemplation. Maybe he found his safe space through Robin and Eddie, but needed a little more of a push and he just didn't find it yet. Up until now.

[amomentsescape]

Hello I am craving angst. Hey can you do a headcanon for the slashers? [Maybe Slasher X reader] Like could you do headcanons. What if the Slashers found their SO has been killed? or Maybe headcanon for Slashers if they accidently killed their so?

Sorry if my grammar is bad.

Slashers Reacting to the Death of Reader

Slashers x Reader (Individual)

Warnings: Mentions of death & killing, some cuss words, ANGST

A/N: All aboard the angst train! I kind of combined your request so some of the Slashers are about Reader accidentally being killed by them and some are an "outside" murder.

Freddy Krueger

He specifically told you not to come into his Dream World tonight

It was too chaotic, too much going on

His victim was a lot faster than he had anticipated

So he did his best to catch up with them

But he just couldn't seem to get close enough

So finally, Freddy's anger took over and he caused the sky to rain knives onto the poor teen

Once things were silent, he walked over to his victim, only to see another body laying further back

Freddy's breath caught

He ran over and saw you

You weren't supposed to be here

He told you not to come

Your eyes were already glazed over when Freddy picked you up

His eyes were going hazy, and he was staggering to your shared bed

He laid you down, your blood immediately soaking through the sheets

And it was only then that Freddy screamed a terrible sound into the world

The whole town would soon be reduced to nothing

Michael Myers

God, he didn't mean to

He just couldn't stand it in that moment

You were upset with him, arguing about how he can't just disappear for days on end without so much as a word

But he was just pissed

None of his killings went as planned, he could barely feel a thing, and here you were yelling about him not being around

It was too much, and he just needed the sensory overload to stop

His mind went dark

It felt like just a moment until he gathered his senses

But when he was able to finally focus, your limp frame was in his arms

Your neck was severely bruised, and there were still fresh tears on your cheeks

He couldn't have done this... right?

He kneeled there with you in his arms

He didn't cry, didn't yell, didn't even move

He just stayed frozen in that position, feeling absolutely nothing

Whatever humanity he had left, it died with you

There was nothing holding him back now

Jason Voorhees

There had only been a couple circumstances when a victim escaped Jason

And even then, none dared to go anywhere near those woods again

Except for one

For some reason, the death of his friends was too much

He was seeking revenge

Jason was inside the cabin cleaning up his machete while you were out picking flowers

You were wanting to make him a flower crown

He immediately dropped everything when he heard a single gunshot ring out through the desolate area

He sprung up, walking out to find you

It didn't take long before he saw a man leaning over a body, apologizing profusely over and over again

When he realized who was lying on the ground, he immediately ripped the man's head off, not even wasting a second

He lifted you in his arms, frantic on what to do

With your last moments, you struggled to smile and grip onto his hand, giving him a silent reassurance

He watched you go limp in his arms

He laid there with you for an eternity, feeling utterly lost

By the evening, he had a gravesite set up for you, and he was already packed

He was going to head into town this time

He would make sure there would be no survivors

Thomas Hewitt

It was just a freak accident

Thomas had gotten in up in the middle of the night while you were sleeping, slipping away to the shed

However, you had no idea where he had went

Fearing the worst, you walked out into the night, looking around for him

But in your worried state, you forgot about one of the traps set up outside

You accidentally triggered it and was immediately impaled

Thomas heard the trap go off and quickly rushed over to it

The moment he saw you, his heart dropped

He ran over and held you, trying to get the trap off of you

But you pleaded with him to leave you be, knowing your fate already

He was frantic, begging and crying with you to let him help

But you knew it was too late

You reached out and touched his masked face, offering a warm smile before your head dropped

Thomas took care of your body, having his family help make a gravesite for you

He was never the same after your death, and he became the most brutal killer out of everyone

Bubba Sawyer

The newest victim was willing to do whatever it took to survive

In a frenzy, they didn't even register what was happening

They saw you and immediately stabbed you in the stomach, quickly sprinting away thereafter

You screamed for Bubba, your body unable to move from the pain

It didn't take long for him to come to you, the area being filled with his whimpers and gasps of fear

He tried to turn you over, but it only caused you to let out cries

He was looking around frantically, trying to figure out what to do

But you just asked him to lay with you, knowing that help would never make it in time

He did as you asked, you both crying together

The moment you went silent, the air was filled with his screams

He was inconsolable

The moment he found the victim hiding away, he did his absolute worst to them

He didn't care about food in that moment

He wanted to invoke as much pain as possible

Your body was carefully tucked away in bed, Bubba refusing to leave your side for days

Brahms Heelshire

You were hoping to surprise Brahms, sneaking out in the night to pick some berries for tomorrow's breakfast

He normally slept like a rock, giving you ample time to complete the task

However, this night, he found himself awake to an empty bed

When he discovered you about to walk out the door, he went into a rage

How could you abandon him like this? Didn't you love him anymore?

He grabbed at you viciously, not seeing anything else but red

You tried to plead with him, telling him that you weren't going to leave

But this all fell on deaf ears

He wasn't thinking, he just grabbed at you and slammed you into the ground, your head bouncing from the force

He only stopped his attack when he saw the empty look on your face, and suddenly everything began to sink in

He froze up and began to cry, collapsing on top of your body

He didn't mean to

He pleaded to you that he didn't want to hurt you

He ended up placing your body on the couch, tucking the doll into your arms

At least this way, there was no possible chance that you could try to leave him again

Norman Bates

He blacked out

He didn't mean to, but something inside of him snapped when he noticed Mother's things had been misplaced

When he finally came to, you were lying in your shared bed, a knife sticking straight up from your chest

Norman became hysterical, not understanding what had happened

"N-no, no, no...."

He cried into your shoulder, holding your body close to his

It didn't take long for his mind to become numb, his teary eyes staring dazedly off into space

He ended up pulling another chair next to Mother, sitting your body beside hers

Mother always loved you, and Norman was sure she'd appreciate the company

It's okay, he reassured himself

You're home with him and Mother

He has his family still

Nothing is wrong

How could it be? You're still here with him...

Billy Loomis

You didn't tell him where you'd be tonight

It was just supposed to be a small get together, nothing important

So why did it matter?

But little did you know, Ghostface would be making an appearance

Billy was quick to get through the small group, eventually making his way around the corner to the next room

However, as you turned to figure out what was going on, your body ran straight into him

Not wanting to have a victim slip from his grip, he stabbed the knife into them quickly, not wasting any time

However, the moment his gaze tilted up, he saw those familiar eyes

As your body dropped, he caught you, ripping off his mask

"(Y/N)?! What the hell are you doing here?! You're supposed to be at home-"

"Billy?" you croaked out

"It's me, baby. Oh my god..."

His voice broke and the tears began to slip down his face unwillingly

Your eyes began to flutter, and he started to shake you in his arms

"Don't you dare fucking do that. You stay with me, alright?"

But your eyes soon glazed over, and Billy found himself yelling at your lifeless body

"DON'T DO THIS TO ME! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME!"

Without you, there would no longer be mercy

Stu Macher

It was supposed to be a fun night together

It wasn't unusual for you to join Stu on his sprees

He loved having you by his side, being there to help him do something he enjoys

But this group was different than the others

They fought back

And when there was only one person left, they somehow managed to grab a nearby kitchen knife and slam it straight into your chest

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Stu screamed

He took his own knife and slashed a gaping wound into they're neck, killing them quickly

He kneeled down beside you, taking your face in his hands

"Hey, hey! You're gonna be okay, alright?"

But you just shook your head

"Look at me. Look at me!"

You did your best to meet his eyes, trying to stay conscious

"I'm gonna get you out of here, and then we'll- (Y/N)?!"

Your eyes had closed, and your head drooped in his hands

Stu began to scream, begging and cursing for you to come back

Eric Draven

One of the first rules Eric gave to you was to never go looking for him at night

It didn't matter how late it was or how long it had been

You stayed home where it was safe, no matter what

But on this night, you broke his rule

Eric was supposed to be back hours ago, and yet you were alone in your bed, worried sick

You eventually gave in and went out into the night, searching for him

But unfortunately, someone else was watching you, quickly jumping out and stabbing you in the neck

They took your wallet and ran, leaving you to bleed out on the sidewalk

But it was only a matter of seconds before a familiar figure ran up to you, placing his cold hands against the wound in your neck

"Goddammit! What did I tell you?!" Eric cried

You tried to speak, but nothing came out but warm blood

"(Y/N), please don't go. Come on, you're strong. Stay with me"

You reached your bloody hand out, caressing Eric's cheek softly before your whole body went limp in his arms

His cries could be heard echoing throughout the night

Without you, he has nothing

[intheupside]

The Pittsburgh Penguins name a PWHL team

Alex Nedeljkovic: I'm bad at making stuff up but what's coming to my head is bridges. They're gold. I was going to say the Golden Arches but now I'm thinking that's McDonald's.

Kris Letang: The Bumblebees.

Rickard Rakell: Pittsburgh Deers. There's a lot of deers here.

Sidney Crosby: Oh! What about the Power? That was the arena football team. I like that.

Cody Glass: I would say the Steel, but the Steelers are already here.

Noel Acciari: I think the Prime, like it sounds like Primanti's.

Michael Bunting: Something with Heinz. We have Steel for the Steelers, and Heinz started here. Something to do with that. Ketchup, mustard, I don't know.

Joel Blomqvist: It would need something to do with steel. Yeah, the Steelheads.

Bryan Rust: Something to do with the rivers ... Maybe like, the Three River Queens. 

Phil Tomasino: It's the Steel City, right? So maybe the Pittsburgh Steel, Steel HC.

Jesse Puljujarvi: Pittsburgh  ... Pittsburgh ... Pittsburgh ... Pittsburgh ... Pittsburgh ... Pittsburgh Cats (laughs hysterically).

Kevin Hayes: Pittsburgh has the Steelers, but Pittsburgh Steel. Like, Steel HC.

Matt Nieto: Maybe, like, the Tinkerbells. I have no idea! That's the first thing that came to mind.

Matt Grzelcyk: Honestly, I don't even have a guess right now. I haven't been here long enough to know the ins and outs of the city.

Anthony Beauvillier: What's a female penguin, or other kind of penguin? Maybe like the Puffins? Something like that.

P.O Joseph: Oh wow, Heinz maybe? The Heinz.

Valtteri Puustinen: Penguins in Finnish is Pingviinit. Maybe that! You have the Penguins and Pingviinit.

Blake Lizotte: The Sparrows. I don't know why, that's just what came to mind.

Ryan Shea: Thinking of other women's teams, I don't want to reuse names like, the Boston Pride. The first things that come to mind are like, bridges, steel. You could shorten the Steelers and be the Pittsburgh Steel, that sounds good and doesn't take away from the Steelers.

Ryan Graves: Something with the rivers ... The River Monsters.

Tristan Jarry: What's a baby Penguin called? A chick? The Pittsburgh Chicks.

Marcus Pettersson: The Bridges.

Drew O'Connor: The Monongahelas. Isn't that the river? Buccos would be a cool name, but they can't really do that because the Pirates go by that.

Jack St. Ivany: It's the City of Steel, but the Steelers use that. Something with the rivers? Pittsburgh Rivers.

Erik Karlsson: The Rivers. They can hire me, if they want. I can come up with a name for a couple hundred grand.

[aethersea]

I've always wanted to learn bookbinding, ever since I was a wee little nerd, but there are a lot of things I've always wanted to learn, and this one has both a daunting upfront materials cost and a daunting upfront research cost. however, my sister is a jewel among siblings and gave me for christmas last year a handy dandy bookbinding manual, a block of good paper, and a little bag of tools.

but I still didn't have a suitable workspace, nor any of the many important tools and materials that she didn't include in her gift. so I just read the manual and pined. until maybe a month ago I got fed up with pining, flattened a cardboard box for a cutting mat, and went to town.

and I'm real proud of myself, so here's me rambling, plus photos!

I went to the thrift store and got glue + some fabric to bind the cover, went to Michaels for a paintbrush (and later went back for a metal ruler lmao it's amazing how useful it is to have a straightedge for cutting the paper), and...could not find material for the cover boards. so I went home and pined some more. but the urges were too strong, so after a couple hours of moping I got a stack of printer paper at the grocery store (I could not bring myself to use the good paper for my first, inevitably weak attempts, I just couldn't do it) and started making a little booklet. which was a great idea, it turned out, since it makes for good practice with cutting the paper, measuring things, punching holes in the signatures, etc.

I have a big box of greeting cards from Michaels, which I used for the covers. it didn't feel like I was making a Real Book, so I got some colored paper from the stationery store and used that for end papers.

so fancy~

galvanized by this success, I ordered a stack of chipboard online to use for cover boards; and once I was confident that I could cut paper without making it look too stupid (getting that straightedge ruler sure helped lol), I made signatures out of the good paper, left them under some heavy books overnight since I don't have a book press, and then punched holes in them! (huzzah for this nice video on getting the holes right)

my sister's gift included good linen thread. it's unwaxed, but after some poking around on r/bookbinding it looks like that just means I'll have to be more careful to avoid tangles and keep good tension. I am fine with this. I can be extra attentive. (I considered just running it over a beeswax candle, but one commenter said if your wax has paraffin in it, it could melt in a hot car, ruining the spine. I can't guarantee my candle is 100% beeswax, I didn't make it, so maybe we just move on.)

I don't have good linen fabric to use for the tapes, but the important part there is that the fabric be thin, sturdy, and not stretchy. the probably-cotton I got from the thrift store fits the bill, so it'll do!

this is a french link stitch, which I got from this exceedingly good tutorial. apparently it's strong enough on its own that for a book of this size, I don't actually need tapes, but I'd already cut the things so eh here we are. and tapes plus french link will make it a stronger binding still (according to a friendly redditor on r/bookbinding), so we carry on.

specifically we carry on to the gluing step. now as I mentioned, I do not have a book press, and you....kinda need one for this step. you need to hold the book block in place with the signatures facing upwards, pressed together hard enough that the glue won't run down between them and stick the pages together (though you do want the glue to get between them just a little, just for like a 16th of an inch). you at least need some clamps and a couple boards to sandwich the book block with.

but you know what? I'm not a professional, this is my first ever book, if it's a little bit off it'll be fine. so we grab all the heaviest books off the bookshelf and improvise.

it's fine! I'm sure it's fine! and just in case it's not, I've tucked a bit of cardboard underneath to catch any glue that drips down so it won't land on the floor. see? I'm prepared! I'm acing this.

and actually, it really was fine. I used clear elmer's glue, applied with a flat paintbrush from the art supplies aisle at Michael's, and frankly I liked the way the flat paintbrush let me slip glue in between the signatures. I did poke around on a couple bookbinding sites to see what kind of glue I should use, and the gist is that although there are better options than this, elmer's glue is perfectly serviceable, and the main downside is it's not archival grade. but I don't need my first bookbinding attempts to last 200 years, that's fine.

the next step is to add the mull. mull is a specific type of fabric – extremely loose-weave linen – and the idea is to paste it down over the spine to essentially hold the tapes and signatures all in place in relation to each other.

but I don't have mull! so I'm using more of the thrift store probably-cotton, because it's thin enough and not really stretchy at all. I'm sure this will be fine too. I painted a layer of glue onto the spine, then left it to dry a bit while I measured and cut the fabric, then painted a generous stripe of glue down the center, where it'll affix onto the spine. then I added a bit more glue to the spine, just to be sure, and pressed the mull into place, rubbing it thoroughly to make sure it's firmly affixed to every signature, with no creases in the fabric or air bubbles beneath it.

honestly I might have overdone it on the glue. I've never done this before, I don't know! I think it's okay, though – I tried not to ever let it become a thick layer, just a slight coating, since the danger of too much glue is that it might crack once dry and weaken the spine.

and now we leave it in the press overnight to dry, and pick up the next step in the morning!