#and now i need to know so i can do more details

[lechrts]

Tramp Stamp. ✷ Lando Norris

Pairing: Lando Norris x Intern!reader

Summary: When he catches sight of something that he wasn’t supposed to see. Something “so out of character” of you.

Word Count: 1.2k

Disclaimer/s: banter blah blah blah black cat x golden retriever tbh, Idk, flirty lando, Mean!reader because that’s all i know

Vera's Voice! a recycled prompt i had been wanting to use for an original story but i have no time since i cant be free of the shackles i call school and work so i just made it a lando imagine. YUHHHH. + sorry for my hiatus. Wassup. i hope u enjoy ^_^

The McLaren paddock was always buzzing with energy on a race weekend, but you barely noticed anymore. You were too focused on your job—an internship that demanded perfection, efficiency, and an unwavering dedication to details.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to have passed that memo to Lando Norris.

"You’re stalking me," You muttered, flipping through your clipboard as you strode through the garage, dodging mechanics and engineers.

"Following," Lando corrected, strolling beside you with way too much ease. "Completely different."

You stopped abruptly. He stopped too. You shot him a flat look. "You don’t even need to be here right now."

Lando smirked. “Aw come on, not enjoying our quality time?”

"Waste of time, actually." You scoffed, adjusting the clipboard in your arms. Lando gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like you’d just gravely offended him. "Wow. Harsh. I thought we were bonding."

You exhaled sharply, turning back to continue walking, attempting to wave him off. "Leave me alone, I’ve got work to do."

"And I have free time," He pointed out, easily keeping pace with you. "Which means I can spend it however I want."

"You want to spend it being an ass?"

"Of course." His grin was all mischief. "It’s my favorite pastime."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t slow down, weaving through the garage with practiced efficiency.

Lando, despite having no real reason to be there, stuck to your side like an overgrown puppy, dodging cables and stepping around mechanics with the kind of casual ease that made your irritation flare.

He lived to get under your skin.

"Hmm," He mused, leaning in just slightly, "You should try smiling more. I think it’d be good for you."

You didn’t even glance up. "You should try shutting up more. I think it’d be good for everyone."

Lando let out a bark of laughter. "So mean."

“Well, I’m certainly not trying to be nice.” You glance up, sending him a fake and sarcastic smile before your face deadpanned with cold eyes.

Lando clutched his chest dramatically. “You truly wound me.”

“God, save me.” You muttered, flipping a page on your clipboard.

Lando, of course, was unfazed and continued pressing. “To be honest, I think you secretly like this,” He mused.

You gave him a look. “Like what exactly?” Furrowing your eyebrows, not following where he was going with this.

“This.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “Our little game.”

You stopped so abruptly that he almost walked into you. “What game? You mean me trying to do my job while you act like an overgrown toddler with too much money and free time?”

Lando grinned, rocking back on his heels. “So do you like it or no?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, turning sharply on your heel, and in your haste, your pen slipped from your grip.

It clattered to the floor and rolled just slightly out of reach.

Without thinking, you bent down to grab it.

But. There was a shift in the air. A second of silence too long.

Then—

“Oh.”

The single syllable carried so much smug amusement that your stomach dropped before you even straightened.

You turned slowly, and Lando was standing there, arms crossed, lips curled into a knowing smirk.

His eyes flickered downward—just briefly—before meeting yours again.

"Oh, correct me if I’m wrong," He drawled, "But was that a lower back tattoo?"

Your entire body stiffened.

You knew right then and there that your McLaren issued shirt had betrayed you. Probably riding up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the delicate little ribbon bow and butterfly inked on your lower back you had gotten back in high school.

Your fingers curled tightly around the pen, knuckles white as if you wanted to shove it into his throat. You fought to keep your face neutral, but the heat creeping up your neck was traitorous.

Lando’s smirk deepened.

You knew you should just ignore him. Keep walking. Act like you didn’t hear. But his tone—so goddamn amused and intrigued—was already sinking its hooks into you.

You straightened fully, lifted your chin, and shot back smoothly, “Maybe don’t stare at my ass?”

Lando’s grin was instant. “Not my fault it was right there.”

"You could’ve looked away."

"But then I would’ve missed the best part of my day," He quipped, eyes glinting with unfiltered delight. "Because never in a million years would I have guessed you had a tramp stamp."

You exhaled sharply, flipping back to your clipboard with forced nonchalance. "You saw nothing."

"I feel like there's a story behind it." He leaned in slightly, eyes practically gleaming. "And now I have to know."

"You have to shut up."

"Make me."

You inhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay composed. You refused to let him win.

Lando’s smirk widened like he could feel you getting flustered.

"Was it a dare?" He mused.

You ignored him, flipping a page.

"Drunken impulse?"

Silence.

"Rebellious phase?"

You turned sharply. "Lando."

"Hm?"

You briefly smiled, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Shut up."

"Can’t. I’m way too entertained at the moment."

"Oh, of course you would find this entertaining."

Lando grinned. "Come on, just tell me! I’ll drop it after."

"You never drop anything."

He sighed dramatically. "You know me too well."

“Unfortunately."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"You know," He mused, rocking back on his heels, "It’s actually kind of hot."

Your brain short-circuited.

You nearly dropped your pen again.

"What?" You croaked.

Lando shrugged, far too nonchalant. "The tattoo. Didn’t expect it, but… yeah." He smirked. "Bit of a plot twist."

Your mouth opened—then closed. Then opened again. "You—I—what.”

He chuckled, watching your reaction unfold like it was the highlight of his day.

You refused to give him the satisfaction.

So, instead of responding, you lifted your clipboard and smacked him lightly on the arm.

Lando burst out laughing, clutching the spot like you’d actually hurt him.

"You’re an idiot," You muttered, turning away before he could see the hint of a smile threatening to break through.

Lando grinned after you, calling out, "I will get that story one day!”

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as annoyed as you pretended to be.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and pls Lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list

tags! @pedriache @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-fvx

[sage-nebula]

In my personal opinion, all three of these have a high probability of backfiring. They assume that the person you're interacting with knows your intention, and/or is interacting in good faith, but on the chance that isn't true (and there is a good chance there isn't), all this will do is escalate the situation and make it worse.

To explain in detail:

"Are you okay?" — This comes across as incredibly passive-aggressive and patronizing if it's said in response to someone who is, by all appearances, in fine health. Particularly if the person you're speaking with is already in a hostile mood, they won't read this as concern, but rather as mockery, and it WILL further escalate the situation. Further, the HR representative has every opportunity here to put their own feelings into what you meant: did you have genuine reason to believe your coworker was in distress? Or were you passive-aggressively insinuating you believed they were deranged? Because the coworker believes the latter and that's why they reported you (after yelling even more in response to you passive-aggressively calling them crazy).

"Could you repeat that for me?" / "Can you explain what you mean?" — Playing dumb can work if, and only if, the coworker is genuinely not an asshole. However, some people are. And these people will see these questions and repeat / explain themselves in an even more condescending, insulting way: slowed down speech, over-enunciated sounds, little words. Now, you could get them with HR even harder for this, but you're taking a hit first.

So, what should you say instead? Here is your step-by-step guide.

Step 1: Acknowledge Their Issue — This is NOT the same as apologizing. If you genuinely did something wrong, by all means, but if you didn't, don't claim responsibility for something you didn't do! Here is a good stock response: "I understand where you're coming from, and see how that would be frustrating."

This acknowledges their feelings, which is an important step in deescalation. Even assholes often just want to be heard and validated. However, we are not done. IF the asshole doesn't deflate after having their feelings soothed, you'll need to move onto Step 2. (You can also lead right into Step 2 if this is all through email or Teams.)

Step 2: State Need for Professionalism — In this step you both stand up for yourself, and make it explicitly clear what your intentions are, in a way that cannot be misconstrued. Here is a stock phrase: "I feel that this conversation has become a bit heated. I ask that we remain polite and professional for the remainder of this discussion."

Using "I feel" language removes any chance that the coworker can say you accused them of anything. You aren't insinuating that they're crazy or anything like that, but rather just saying that your perception is that this conversation is heated. You are also asking for polite professionalism, which is an expectation of the workplace, but in such a way that it CANNOT be twisted into an accusation (but that YOU know is commentary on your coworker, and your coworker will understand as well, without being able to use it against you).

But we're still not done! If they continue to bluster and storm, Step 3 has got you.

Step 3: End the Convo, Involve Higher-Up — In this step you both disengage the rude coworker, and cover your ass (CYA). Here is a stock phrase: "Apologies, but I do not feel that continuing this conversation will be productive for either of us. I will see if we can resume this conversation with [manager / HR] present. Good day."

Saying that you don't feel the conversation is productive communicates the message that they are not communicating effectively, but once again in a way that cannot be twisted into an attack on their person. Furthermore, "productive" carries the connotation that YOU are interested in working with this person, which will look good to whichever higher-up you involve next.

Because at this point, you DO need to involve one. This is to CYA. Controlling the narrative is crucial in workplace disputes and that means being the first to report the situation. Pick whoever is most appropriate; if you and the coworker share a manager, you can go there. If not, HR would be the better bet. Even if you share a manager, you can still go to HR if you trust them more. It's up to you.

If this confrontation took place in person, walk away after saying this and go to either manager / HR to explain the situation. If the coworker tries to stop you, just repeat that you don't feel the conversation is productive and request that they move out of your way. Such a thing will attract attention, so it's important you seem as reasonable as possible while they make themselves look worse.

If this confrontation took place over email, immediately forward with an explanation of what they will be looking at. Here is a good template:

"Hi [Manager / HR name],

I wanted to bring to your attention a conversation [Coworker] and I just had, in case it has potential for further issues to arise. The conversation was initially about [situation], however, I feel that [Coworker]'s language was disrespectful and not conducive to a working relationship. I would appreciate it if you would review the situation and speak to [Coworker] on my behalf, since I do not wish for this incident to escalate further. Every email between [Coworker] and myself is included in the chain below.

Thank you,

[Your Name]"

This template accomplishes several things:

It alerts the manager / HR person to the fact that there is an issue.

Provides context as to why the issue happened.

Does not seem accusatory toward the coworker; accusations will work against you 9 times out of 10.

Places emphasis on wanting to maintain professionalism and productivity, which are things both managers and HR people also want.

Asks M / HR to take over the situation.

Provides the full conversation (i.e. the RECEIPTS) so they can see what went down.

By this point you might be thinking, "These sound like robot responses! Why do I need to include lines about professionalism and productivity? Why do I need to weasel around accusations?"

The reason to all of these is: this is how you both play and win the game. You're not in this to dunk on your rude coworker; you're in it to shut them down. And the way to do that is to be clear, specific, and get / keep management and HR on your side. That means getting to them first, and keeping yourself sounding reasonable in contrast to your asshole coworker. Stating intentions clearly means your words can't be used against you; using words like professionalism and productivity will make M / HR believe you really care about this workplace.

This is how you win. Trust me. (Source: Master's in communications management, mid-level managerial experience, and over a decade of experience deescalating and dealing with assholes in the workplace.)

Tips and ideas for how to respond when someone is being rude to you

For personal reasons I won't get into, I have a history of just freezing when some is rude / hostile / aggressive / condescending / patronizing / etc. It's obviously not something I'm happy about at all, most people who freeze or fawn aren't happy about it and would change it if they could.

One day I confided in my co-worker, a middle aged woman in her 50's, that this is something I struggle with. Considering how confident and assertive she always struck me as, I was shocked when she told me this is also something she's struggled with.

The advice she gave me is to just memorize and practice a few broad statements or reactions that you can pull out of your pocket so to speak when someone is being rude or disrespectful to you. It's not easy if you're someone who's been conditioned to freeze or fawn, but practice helps. Practice saying these things when you're alone. Put up a sticky note next to your bed or on your bathroom mirror with these phrases and practice them when you see them. Practice saying these with a partner or trusted friend, role-play scenarios where you might need to use these phrases.

Here's a few phrases that have worked for me. The nice thing about them is that they tend to shut down the situation rather than escalating, while still letting the aggressor know that you don't find their behavior acceptable.

"Are you okay?"

This works well in professional settings, because it's not like your work place's residential bully can run to HR about you asking if they're okay (but they might if you try to retaliate and give them a taste of their own medicine). However, it still effectively sends the message "I think there's something wrong with your behavior and don't accept it". It's also not likely the response they're expecting, so it'll likely throw them off and prevent further verbal aggression.

"Could you repeat that for me? I didn't catch what you said."

This one is most effective for people you believe to actually have a conscious and might regret what they said if they actually thought about it a little more. I find that often when I do this one, when people repeat the rude/snippy/patronizing/etc thing they either shamefully stumble over their words and show some remorse, or they change altogether what they say. In the off chance they don't regret what they said and end up repeating exactly what they said, this at least buys you some time to think of a better reaction since you're no longer caught off guard by a sudden rude and snippy remark.

"Can you explain what you mean by that?"

Similar logic to the last one. Often when people are being rude/snippy/patronizing/etc they're caught up in their own emotions in that moment and didn't think it through. This is a polite and civil way of putting their rude behavior in the spotlight and making them reconsider what they said. The other advantage to this one is that in case you did misread their intentions and they meant no harm by what they said or did, this gives them an opportunity to clarify that, instead of you just feeling bad over a statement or actions they actually had no ill intentions with.

If anyone has any further examples of reactions / responses / statements that have worked for them, I'd love to hear about them. I'm new to studying the art of how to civilly yet effectively shut down bad behavior from others, so I'm always open to hearing more suggestions.

[verridaiya]

—Dream Blooms

"I've seen you there, before."

This fic was born from watching Sylus's Abyssal Blossom card and watching my heart break into a million pieces. It hurt, but then I realized you know who hasn't been hurt by it? Sylus.

Based on the prevailing theory/my headcannons that the Abyssal Blossom card was just a dream, brought on by MC's yearning for a normal, quiet life after the events of Beyond Cloudfall chapter 7.

Synopsis: Sylus invites himself over to take care of you while you're sick. You tell him about a pleasant dream of yours and proceed to break his heart. (Or, you dream of something you've dreamt before, and Sylus hears about it for the first time.)

Contains: Spoilers for Sylus's Beyond Cloudfall myth and the Abyssal Blossom card, Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, angst/hurt (the comfort will come later), current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 1.7k

“I had a strange dream again.”

“Another one, sweetheart?”

Sylus’s voice is a soft murmur above you. You open your blurry eyes to a darkened room and a pleasantly warm body under you, wrapped around you. Your head feels as hazy as the moonlight filtering in from the cloudy night sky through the window. Half-awake and half asleep, you can still feel the sensations of your dream like phantom memories. You hum an affirmation, shaking off the vestiges of a medicine-induced sleepiness.

You’re not quite sure how you found yourself in this position: sprawled out on your couch, nestled between a warm blanket and an even warmer Sylus, breathing in the scent of him through your admittedly stuffy nose. The last thing you remember was you laying collapsed on your bed, trying to convince yourself that you’re not sick, you’re just tired from a long week at the Hunter’s Association, and to muster up the energy to find something to eat. And then, suddenly, there was Sylus, filling your doorway as he had filled every part of your life, your thoughts, and now your dreams.

You’ve been having more of those recently, ever since you absorbed the power of another Aether Core almost a year ago. Reality intertwining with illusions, the people in your life woven intricately into a tapestry of dreams. Fragments of memories, glimpses of things that could never be, or never was. Flashing scales underneath glistening waves. Zayne, in a flowing robe you’ve never seen on him before, but looked so right on him. A silent forest, illuminated by starlight. You would wake up yearning for something just out of reach, hands outstretched to capture the essence of something that slips, incorporeal, through your fingers.

This dream was gentle, though. And this time, your hands didn’t need to reach far to grasp the heart of your dreams.

“You were in it this time, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he says, sounding intrigued. “Do tell, kitten.”

You hear him place something on the coffee table—his phone, probably—his attention shifting solely to you. He carefully moves to his side, extricating himself from under you, a large hand propping his head up so he can fully face you.

The soft moonlight illuminates on his face, throwing it into relief. Silvery hair threaded with shadow, a pale complexion half shrouded in darkness, eyes like banked hearths warming you with its glow. Through the haze of your fever, you can almost envision what you saw in your dream. You lift a hand pat his soft hair, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, before trailing your fingers down the side of his face.

“You had something on your head.” No, not exactly on his head. You can’t quite remember. The you in the dream was certain that the something was more a part of him than anything else. You frown slightly. The more you strain to remember the details of it, the more awake you became, and the more it danced out of your grasp. “Something sharp and twisting. Rough. It was beautiful, though. You were beautiful.”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes you couldn’t decipher in your current state. There’s a spark of something foreign in his eyes.

“And?” he urges on, his deep voice uncharacteristically eager to your ears. He reaches to grab the hand that was holding his face, pressing it gently to him. His thumb rubs against the back of it in small soothing motions. “Can you tell me more about this dream of yours, kitten?”

You grasp at the cotton inside your head, stuffy from sleep and sickness. It takes so much effort, to tease apart the strands and find the wisps of fading dreams. It doesn’t help that you were also fighting off the drowsiness. You try, though, to give him what he’s asking for, as he always does for you.

“We were standing in a lovely field of flowers. They were breathtaking, Sylus. Such a vivid, dazzling red. There was a black spire in the distance, I think.” The spire had stood tucked away in the backdrop of rolling hills, but it was a small detail your mind was stuck on for some reason.

Thinking about that spire again, your mind can almost conjure a clear image of your dream. A lingering feeling of déjà vu washes over you, settling heavy on your chest. You’ve dreamt this before; you feel this with every bone in your body as an unshakeable fact. You’ve seen this obsidian spire before, this sprawling flower field. You know with startling certainty that you’ve had this exact dream before. But when you try to recall when, the feeling dissipates and leaves behind only a phantom sensation and an absence in your memory you cannot comprehend.

Sylus watches as you shake away the remnants of déjà vu. Your brow furrows. You’ve come to be accustomed to his intense stares through the months you’ve known him, but this one was… strange. It was as if he was trying to look deep into the fabric of your soul, even without the use of the Aether Core in his eye. His face remains a blank and indecipherable mask, leaving you with no indication of what he’s thinking of. You wanted to know what was going on in that unfathomable mind of his.

Longing. Trepidation. Yearning, a yearning that aches and makes you want to answer its call. You become distantly aware of emotions trickling into you that weren’t your own. You didn’t realize you were resonating with Sylus until he severed it, the hand holding yours shifting to catch your wrist instead. He leans down to brush his soft lips against it before letting your hand rest gently on your stomach.

“How about you recover from your fever first before you use your evol, sweetie.” He laughs softly, the red-gold brilliance of your evols intertwined fading from your hands.

“Oh, sorry.”

His presence in your mind and by your side was so natural that you weren’t even aware of when you began resonating with him. It seemed like your body responded to your desires even while your mind lagged behind. That brief glimpse into him enabled you to decipher that emotion in his eyes, though you struggle to make sense of it.

It was hope.

“Never apologize to me. What else do you remember?” he asks quietly, before you can puzzle over it further.

You close your eyes, willing the memories of the fleeing dream forward. The golden light of a setting sun. The crisp cold of mountainous air. The feeling of being the only two creatures in the world. And, inexplicably, the feeling of home.

“We were up in the air flying, somehow, before we landed in that blossoming. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I felt like I was in a whole other world. When I turned around to look at you, I saw you sitting there amongst the flowers. Red, like shining rubies. Red like-” you pause, the words at the tip of your tongue. A silhouette appears in your mind’s eye, before it sinks back into the void.

“Red, like rich wine,” you finish, though you know that’s not what you had wanted to say.

When he said nothing, you continued on. “I decorated you with those flowers. We were so carefree, unworried and relaxed. It was just us, no one else, in the valley that was our playground. I think I was teasing you, or maybe you were teasing me. You said something about seeing the other side of things, something taunting. We ended up play-fighting, rolling around and sending petals up in the air.”

You smile, the warmth of the dream enveloping you.

“It felt so real.” You wanted it to be real, this lovely lush field and this gorgeous, monstrous Sylus.

Monstrous?

Startled out of your reverie, you blink open your eyes. No, there is nothing monstrous about Sylus. Not anymore, not since those first few nights that you’ve met him so long ago. Shaking your head slightly to dispel the thought, you turn your head to glance at him, realizing he hasn’t spoken in a while.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and drawn tightly together. You’ve seen this expression on his face before, briefly, when he struggles to heal a particularly nasty wound. His body is so tense when you reach out to him, muscles taut and rigid beneath your fingers. You’re not quite sure he’s even breathing.

“Sylus?”

At your prompting, Sylus sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales. He opens his eyes and your breath catches. Rich garnet eyes glow in the darkness, twin wine-dark seas drowning in sorrow, regret. Agony.

It is so at odds to the sweetness of your recounted dream that alarm shot through you, temporarily driving away the sleepiness. Seeing the pain in his eyes unsettled you; it didn’t belong on his face at all. Your sluggish brain tries to make sense of what you could have said to have garnered this reaction. Did you say something wrong? Your chest tightens at the thought of hurting him with your words, somehow. You begin to prop yourself up.

Sylus stops you with one gentle hand, pushing you to lay back down. He silently regards you, the silence between you stretching into something delicate.

There are so many things you want to say, to ask and to comfort. Sylus was never one to let his emotions show as openly as they are right now. You want to ask what was wrong, take back your silly little story if all it gave him was pain, even if you didn’t understand why.

But through the jumble of your fever, all that came out of your tired mouth was, “It was just a dream, Sylus.”

He quietly watches you for a few breaths longer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to gently caresses your cheek, holding you as if you were something as fragile as a memory. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against your forehead, soft as a butterfly’s wings, as the petals of a phantom flower.

“You’re right,” he says, with a grief you cannot fathom.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It can be nothing more than a dream.”

[takes1]

ur blog is so pretty...

if you are okay with it, do you have any headcanons bout what type or p0rn the Karasuno boys would watch? 🌹

what type of p*rn would the karasuno team watch?

warnings. heavy nsfw under the cut. minors DNI

characters. suga. daichi. asahi. tsukki. kageyama. hinata. nishinoya. tanaka. yamaguchi. details. lots of kink discussion - just about anything you can think of

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

suga९᠀ - likes a good storyline video. loves a bad one. shitty acting gets him laughing, and he needs every chance he can get to feel as though he isn't sinning. won't say no to an amateur flick, but he likes the structure of 4k videos, and is a suuuucker for the 'oiled up' aesthetic.

asahi९᠀ - buddy has a rampant size kink that doesn't get much of an outlet. downside: most videos that cater to this are not what he wants, because of the unavoidable infantilization in most of them. so he opts for amateur vids with bigger guys turning out their smaller girlfriends, wives; extra props if there's some real, organic dirty talk, or if it happens to be super low-quality.

daichi९᠀ - has no shame about his oral fixation. face fucking. deepthroat. he's got any video with some lucky dude getting good head memorized by the title and the preview. his favorites are either: when the guy stays hands-off and silent, or when she takes a load down her throat. not much in between.

tsukishima ९᠀ - is a filthy animal with a porn addiction. will watch/has watched just about everything under the sun. he had a bukkake faze, a gangbang faze, but is now proudly serving his bdsm faze with specific interest in femdoms. shiny, black heels get him hard in an instant. has done the tried-and-true bdsm questionnaire in his spare time and does heaps of research on the community, usually as a pregame to jerking off.

kageyama ९᠀ - no particular preferences. but if he's got a crush on somebody, he will strictly watch lookalikes. it wasn't a conscious habit at first, but after the third time it happened, he couldn't articulate any other reason to look up seven descriptors in the search bar and get 0 results. how well/quickly he gets off is based on how well the actor or subject looks his crush. it's a long endeavor, too. he edges for as long as he can, and almost always does it twice.

hinata ९᠀ - can't watch porn long enough to build any strong preferences. has sensitivity/premature ejaculation issues, so he tends to just listen to whatever video he landed on. this has opened more of a pipeline to nsfw audios, instead. loves the sound of two bodies coming together, especially all the little pants and huffs in a video that aren't faked. has gotten insanely good at being able to tell if it's fake, too.

nishinoya ९᠀ - doesn't watch videos; similar problem to hinata. instead, yuu buys physical hentai novels. big fan of monster-fucking. tentacle stuff is a staple in his readable porn. he guards his collection with his life and would sooner lose a limb than have anybody go near the shelf that he keeps them hidden behind. once, asahi stood too close during a sleepover and -naturally- yuu bit him as a distraction, just to get him away from the area.

tanaka ९᠀ - wlw videos. solo-girl vids. he can't stand to watch something with a guy in it. it's huge turn-off, especially when the dude is too loud, or in the way, too soft, or straight-up ugly. learned to love the slow, women-catered stuff that's 40 minutes long and has plot to follow. also picked up a lot of tongue tricks from these vids, too. (congrats, kiyoko!)

yamaguchi ९᠀ - mmf threesomes. i think ya'll know what i'm getting at, here. either he 1: is poly and doesn't know it, 2: is gay and doesn't know it, 3: is genuinely very enticed by the idea of overstimulating a gorgeous girl, OR 4: can't see himself as enough for a potential partner, and this might be a subconscious way of evading that insecurity.

notes. i'm very sorry to any who were looking for ennoshita, kinoshita, or narita. i tried, but genuinely couldn't get anything going for any of them. they all seem like nice guys, but there's no material that i can properly make nasty.

taglist. @integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

links. my masterlist. requests open.

[mikibwrites]

The Price is Right

inspired by @theweewooshow 's post about a kissing booth :) Happy Valentines Day everyone!

bucktommy | 1.4k | G | ao3

This is ridiculous. He’s officially lost his marbles. 

Tommy’s been in this line for at least fifteen minutes, and every third minute of that has been spent telling himself he should leave. The other 2 minutes of each spiraling cycle have been spent eavesdropping his fellow hopefuls in line, listening to their tittering about how hot the firefighter working this shift of the booth is, surreptitiously cataloguing every person that he can see in front of and behind him and evaluating them on what–little, sadly–he knows about Evan’s preferences and whether or not their dreams of bagging a date with him will come true. Which then, in turn, sends him back into spiraling and berating himself for being among them, given his history with said firefighter. 

He needs to leave. 

There are roughly ten people in front of him, and Evan definitely hasn’t spotted him yet. He could totally duck out and no one would be the wiser. He contemplates pulling his phone out of his pocket with an air of importance, putting the completely silent device to his ear and pretending something dire has just happened that requires his immediate attention. No one would question him for getting out of line, no one would suspect that he’d lost his nerve. They’d think, wow, he must be important to be needed somewhere so urgently. 

Tommy’s definitely, officially for real this time, lost his marbles. 

Also, there are now only seven people left in front of him. 

As he watches each person get their sweet little peck on the cheek, he tries to tell himself this is for a good cause. The money goes to charity. There’s nothing weird about giving to charity. Nothing at all. There’s also nothing stopping him from just dropping the money in the basket on a table near the door that’s designated for just plain donations. He doesn’t need to get anything out of it if that’s all he’s hoping to do. 

He’s definitely hoping to get something out of it. He can at least admit that to himself, if nothing else. 

Five people left. 

“Oh my god, he’s so hot,” Tommy hears from behind him. “Look at those arms. Hold me down, daddy.” He almost chokes, the girl’s voice clearly pitched for just her friend next to her to hear, but he’s apparently blessed with supersonic hearing. The friend chimes in as well. “I wonder if he’s actually a good kisser or if he’s one of those dudes who relies on his rizz alone and then can’t deliver when it counts.”

Tommy has no idea what ‘rizz’ is, but he has to physically stop himself from turning around and describing for this girl in detail just how good of a kisser Evan is, how well he can deliver. He’s sure that wouldn’t go over well. 

Two people left. Evan is being so gracious and attentive to each of his patrons that he still hasn’t noticed Tommy. He could still make a run for it. 

He’s not going to. 

There’s roughly enough time for one more cycle of spiraling before he makes it in front of Evan, but Tommy chooses to spend it going over what the hell he’s going to say. Surely, Evan may protest giving his ex a kiss, even if it’s for charity, given the way they ended. It’d be well within his right to do so. So Tommy needs to have some justifications ready just in case Evan gets the wrong idea here. 

And what is the idea? Tommy failed to decide before he attempted this ridiculous stunt. Honestly, he’s been so, so god damned touch starved since he walked out Evan’s door that he thinks he’d do anything for just a brush of fingertips from Evan at this point. And that’s it, really…he only wants it from Evan. His coworkers have told him multiple times that he needs to just go out and get his ex out of his system–Donato offered to wingperson for him, even–but the very idea turns his stomach. 

But did he actually think that throwing some money at charity at a kissing booth of all things was going to get them anywhere near a reconciliation? Jesus, he should have just texted. Not that he hasn’t tried that, many many many times, and all of them ended up deleted because regardless of what he likes to tell himself he does not have the courage to put himself out there without the reassurance–or despair–of seeing Evan’s actual expression when he says what he wants to say. 

Which is…what? Exactly? He still hasn’t deci–

“Tommy?”

Shit. He’s missed the last person in front of him getting their dutiful peck on the cheek, and now he’s run out of time. 

Evan’s voice as he says his name is full of awe, trepidation, and…dare he say it…hope? His expression is even more devastating: like he’s seeing the sunrise just beginning after a century spent underground. His narrowed eyes are earnest and a little guarded, but they are trained wholly on Tommy.

Shit….what was he going to say?

“Uh, yeah. Hi. I, um…well I. Uh.” Tommy runs his fingers over his hair roughly, feeling unbearably stupid and exposed. He should have run when he had the chance. “Look, Evan, I–”

Evan’s breath hitches audibly at the sound of his name. They’re staring at each other. 

“Shit or get off the pot, dude, we’re all paying customers!” Some guy further back in line is shouting. 

“Um. Did you want a kiss?” Evan says, his face turning pinker by the second. And this. This Tommy can definitely answer.

“Yes,” he says, with maybe a little too much conviction behind the word for their current circumstances. Evan seems to clock it immediately, his eyes flicking down to Tommy’s mouth before coming back up to his eyes, his expression morphing to hopeful disbelief. “But, I mean, you don’t have to, here, I know you probably weren’t expecting–”

Tommy’s words are cut off by Evan’s mouth sealing onto his. 

God, god, he’s missed these lips. Each slide is like a revelation, and the thought is not lost on him that they’re in the middle of what is essentially a work function, they are both in uniform for christ's sake, having a whole existential crisis shared along with their breath and space and saliva. Because yes, Evan has now bullied his insanely talented tongue right behind Tommy’s teeth and is exploring like he’s going to be asked to draw a map later. 

Evan kisses him long, hard, and thorough, endless seconds ticking by and Tommy definitely doesn’t listen to any of the complaining going on in the line behind him. Evan does, though, and he very reluctantly pulls his lips away from Tommy’s and blinks in the most adorably flustered way and Tommy’s so, so gone on this man. How did he ever walk away from this?

“Can we talk?” Evan asks breathlessly.

“Please. But maybe later. Your adoring public awaits,” he adds, gesturing with his thumb to the line behind him, still nearly thirty people strong. He can’t blame them, but he’s also feeling a tad possessive so he leans in one more time to press his lips to the apple of Evan’s cheek, causing the blush to intensify when he pulls away. 

Tommy begins to turn to walk away, his smile already making his cheeks sore when Evan clears his throat. He raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t pay, you know.” He’s smirking, the little shit. 

Before Tommy can make a move, someone in line shouts, “Damn! How much does it cost to get that?”

“That is not for sale,” Evan states with finality, but he’s still looking at Tommy, lips pursing, trying to hold back a full blown grin. There are a few groans from the line. 

Tommy reaches into his wallet, pulls out a $100, and slaps it on the table in front of Evan. “What time does your shift end?”

“In thirty minutes.”

“Meet me at the cafe two blocks down. Bring those lips. We’ll talk.” Tommy congratulates himself on being smooth as he smirks right back at the look on Evan’s face. 

“Mmm, okay. I’ll bring these lips. But I hope you remember they’re good for more than just talking,” Evan adds as Tommy turns to walk away. 

He retracts his self-congratulations as he trips over his own feet. 

[elgaladwen]

I am not trying to fight with anyone here, because I know this is coming from a place of wanting to help with the current situation, but this is so silly that I have to say something. (And thank you to the people in the comments who note that this is also a common feature of Teams itself) I don't know all the details, so maybe I am missing something, but the way this is presented is seemingly just hearsay and fear-mongering over a normal business process. It's perfectly common in government (and I imagine in the private sector too) to be able to search through Teams chats, emails, or any other records (because yes, Teams chats are records) for keywords for legal and public disclosure, disciplinary actions, or a number of other reasons. As someone else in the comments also noted, they might have installed third party software to do this in a better or different way than Teams itself. (We use a third party program at work to search emails so that we can be more thorough than what's out of the box with Outlook, for example)

I guess this sounds weird if you've never worked for the government or for a big company who issues you a computer, but this is how it works. There isn't any expectation of privacy for anything said on work devices or though work channels. Usually it's less nefarious than this sounds, like you want to make sure you got everything for a public records request, or even just something like someone needs to look up something you talked about because they forgot, but it could also be to make sure you weren't doing something that you shouldn't. And I can't speak for every employee, but in my job, we are not allowed to talk about politics during work time, because we are supposed to represent all the people of my state and that silliness, so yeah, I could get in trouble for talking about Trump and Musk on work channels, and I can't imagine my state and agency is the only one like that.

Now yes, if some random dude is doing this separately from normal processes, that is bad. But this reads as if some employees only just realized that their computers can be monitored and searched. "Some federal employees say" and "some think" is not basis for fact. I'll try to see if I can figure out what, exactly, they're talking about, but regardless, i just want people to realize that this is a very common thing. There are many insane things Musk is doing that we can worry about, without adding red herrings.

Elon Musk's teenage hackers have inserted bots into the backend of the federal system so they can spy on government workers and sniff out any disloyalty to Felon47.

This is not only highly illegal but qualifies as an act of espionage and sedition.

Remember when First Felon accused Obama of spying on him through a microwave oven? Always a projection.

[moonyswolfie]

Study Session

A/N: So I just finished a torturously long exam session and this fic is a result of all the stress and mental breakdowns I've accumulated like Pokemons during this time. I actually wrote this piece between two of my biggest and most difficult exams, hence the N.E.W.T.s coming in to play. I hope you enjoy and if you relate, I'm so sorry! Remember that you are strong and no amount of academic stress can bring you down!

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Potter!reader

Masterlist

The table you were sat at in the Library was so crowded with textbooks and parchments that you could not see the wood any longer. Notes and cheat sheets, explanatory scrolls of parchments, quills and bottles of ink covered the entire surface. Hell, Lily even brought a dictionary. Merlin knew what use would a muggle dictionary have when it came to magical terms, but you learned a long time ago to never question her genius.

It was N.E.W.T.s season and to say that all 5 of you were stressed would be an understatement. James thought that once you passed your O.W.L.s, the N.E.W.T.s would not be as scary as everyone made them out to be. It was an exam session, a very long and tiresome and perhaps crucial exam session, but it wasn't Voldemort, right?

Wrong. The stress was growing by the hour and despite having two more weeks at your disposal to revise and memorise all you needed to, it didn't feel like enough.

But then again, was it ever enough? 

You've been preparing for the N.E.W.T.s since the beginning of the school year, forcing yourself to attend every class and take a ginormous amount of notes that you knew would probably end up useless or lost somewhere at the bottom of your book bag. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to pause. Failure was not an option.

So far you tackled Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, all of them easy and rather entertaining subjects, if you were to say so yourself. Right now however, you were stuck on the same Potions chapter for the past four hours and were just about ready to scream, cry, Avada Kedavra yourself or better yet, all of the above.

"Hey, Sirius?" 

He hums and looks up, noticing your twitching eye and the exasperation rolling off you in waves. 

"Y/N, are you okay?" 

The concern was palpable and it caught the attention of your boyfriend in an instant, yet Remus knew better than to pester you with questions right now. He was adamant about rest and health being your first priority, but considering his own overcrowded study schedule, he would be a hypocrite to point it out at the moment. He did, however, push a goblet of water in your direction, which you eagerly accepted and gulped down in seconds. You weren't exactly allowed food or beverages in the Library, but what Pince didn't know would not hurt her.

You thanked Remus and handed the goblet back, before turning to Sirius and taking a deep breath to regain your composure. 

"I have been rereading this chapter for the majority of our time here and I still don't understand the origins or the side effects of Amortentia when used for a longer period of time. No one really bothered to detail on them in any of our textbooks and I am not sure anyone ever subjected themselves to testing it out and then writing a memoir about it. However, Slughorn oh so graciously announced us that it might be included in the advanced exam topics. Do you happen to have anything on this? I know he mentioned some in class, but I didn't catch all of them."

"I think I do..."

He shuffles some parchments and knocks down some books, thus earning himself a stern look from Madame Pince, but ultimately finds the notes and hands them over.

"There you go, love."

You smile and thank him, humming while you scan the information. For such a chaotic human being, he had the neatest handwriting you've ever seen.

It doesn't take long for you to find the part about side effects, however there was nothing you didn't already write down yourself. Thankfully though, Sirius was the type of person to absently write down everything he heard so you found other helpful pieces of information. This was why you asked him for the notes in the first place, instead of Remus or James. Remus, much like yourself, only wrote the parts he was less certain of, whereas James didn't write anything at all. And Lily, Merlin bless her, she was a growing disaster when it came to writing information down. There was, contrary to her claims, no method to her madness.

You rolled up the parchment once you were done writing, yet kept it close, just in case you needed it again later. Sirius was studying for Transfiguration, so he wouldn't miss the notes anytime soon. Lily turned to you, ready to ask a question regarding a Charms lesson she was too sick to attend, but stopped and frowned, browsing the page spread out on the table in front of you.

"Y/N, why are your notes bilingual?" 

You turned and followed her gaze to the margins, specifically to the terminology you borrowed from Sirius...

You unscrolled his notes again and placed them next to yours, looking from one to the other with a bemused smile. Next to the name of the potion, you drew a little arrow and wrote amour et obsession, which would have been inconspicuous, had you not added une potion délicate and l'amour impossible devient possible.

There were a few more next to the ingredients list and some corrections made regarding the mode of preparation. As you scanned the two sets of notes, you noticed that his were entirely in French, while you half translated, half copied your added bits.

You didn't know what was funnier, that you mindlessly wrote the information in Frenchglish, or that you didn't notice it was in another language to begin with. 

English was your mother tongue, yet like every other pureblooded offspring, you were forced to attend a variety of language lessons to determine which ones you would be more skilled in. Romantic languages proved to be your forte, so you stuck with French, Italian and Latin. It wasn't easy in the beginning, seeing as they are all mere variations of the latter, therefore making them ridiculously easy to mix up and combine in the oddest of sentences, but you persevered and were now fluent in all four. 

Regardless, slip ups like the one you were tiredly staring at now were not unheard of. You were certain it was a testament to how tired you truly were. Perhaps Remus was right, you should rest more.

But then again, this was not a simple exam session. It was the one that would determine your entire future. You could sleep when you're dead.

"You write your notes in French?"

Sirius' head shot up immediatey, confusion written all over his face.

"Yes?"

By now everyone's attention was on your exchange, which deepened his frown. James looked like he missed everything until that very moment, Remus was watching his best friend with a raised brow and Lily was silently shaking her head, smiling. She didn't know how she ended up with the lot of you, but she knew she loved you dearly.

"French is my first language" Sirius added, as if that was all the explanation you needed.

Sadly, it did nothing to clear up the confusion. When neither of you said anything, he added "doesn't everyone take notes in their first language?"

Despite Remus being the only other person in your group who wasn't a native English speaker, therefore making him the best candidate to answer his friend, you all shook your heads, your faces betraying different levels of amusement and fondness. It was a rather endearing situation.

"I don't take notes in Welsh, if that's what you're asking. I don't think I can even translate half the things correctly. Besides, the spells are in Latin, so imagine how that would look on a piece of parchment."

You chuckled at the mental image of magical notes looking more like pages taken from that muggle author's book, Tolkien. Lily followed and you both received a glare and a pointed "shhh" from Madame Pince. Honestly, it was a wonder she wasn't kicking you out at this point.

"Wait a second" James turned towards his best friend "ALL of your notes are in French?"

Sirius nods. Poor baby looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"But don't you..." you frown, unsure how to formulate your question "I see you writing constantly. If the Professor speaks, you write. How..." you groan, burying your face in your hands and shaking your head "my brain hurts. You look as if you write down everything that is said in class, so I assumed that you do?”

You peek an eye up only to be met with Sirius chuckling silently.

“I do write mostly everything that is said in class, but first I summarize it and I guess it’s easier to summarize it in French. I find it easier if I reformulate the information because it shows I understood the concept, but to avoid learning something mechanically and forgetting it when I flip the page, I use my own words. The only issue is that sometimes I forget the word I need in English or there isn’t even a word in English for said thing to begin with. Thus French. And no one really asked me for my notes before you so I didn’t see any reason to put any effort in translating them. And you didn’t seem to have a problem with it anyway.” he adds with an amused smirk, remembering Lily’s previous comment about your notes

You mask your chuckle with a cough and glance at your notes again.

“That is actually a great idea, Pads, I might have to start doing it myself.”

“NO!”

The lot of you was startled by James’ whisper-shout. You gave him a bewildered look, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Are you alright, big brother?”

“Don’t you dare. I know you and your disturbingly brilliant mind. If you start implementing this method, you’re going to write your notes in Latin” he squints, an accusatory look in his eyes “and where am I going to get my last minute notes from then?”

That was it, you couldn’t hold it in any longer if you tried. You burst out laughing, prompting an exaggerated “SHHH” to be directed your way.

“This is your last warning, if you cannot keep quiet, I suggest you move your little study session to your Common Room.”

Madame Pince was stern, yet you couldn’t fault her this time. You were loud and you certainly disturbed a few of your peers seated at nearby tables.

“Sorry” you whisper with a sheepish look.

You returned your attention to the table just in time to catch Lily placing a sweet kiss on James’ cheek, mumbling “don’t worry, my love, I won’t leave you noteless” which seemed to lift his spirits immediately. As grossed out as you were by their affection sometimes (what are sisters for after all?), you couldn’t help but smile at the scene. You were really happy he found his better half, even if it happened to be one of your best friends.

But after all, you did return the favour, did you not?

Remus’ hand found yours under the table and he squeezed it affectionately. You squeezed right back and smiled up at him, mouthing “I love you” and delighting in the beautiful smile that took over his face for the rest of the day.

[fuctacles]

If you saw the snippets where i fucked up the timeline no u didnt.

<< 16 | 0 | 18 >>

"What's his name?" Steve asks, playing with the bunny's paw. The only time he let go of him since last night was to use the bathroom.

"Frankenbunny," Eddie answers, and smiles when Steve snorts after hearing it. "My grandma made him from fabric scraps grandpa would bring from work. I've made the vest, though." He stretches and blinks his eyes open properly, in time to see Steve's impressed expression.

"Really?"

"Well, Wayne helped," he added. "It's actually made from the same jacket I turned into my vest." 

"Oh, that's so cool!" Steve turns the bunny around to take a better look at the details. The tiny vest even has frayed edges and Dio stitched on the back. "You guys match."

Eddie snorts. 

"Yeah, we're both full of stitches," he points out dryly. 

Steve hums, pressing the toy closer to his face. It's something he's done before sleep, too, but last night Eddie wrote it off as a drunken mirage.

"And both pretty handsome fellas," he says, face half-hidden behind the bunny. He opens one eye, looking from under his eyelashes shyly, trying to gauge Eddie's reaction. 

Which, Eddie would love to know and understand as well.

"Oh, I don't know," he shrugs, reaching out to poke at Frankenbunny's face. "He doesn't have the signature Munson dimples." When in doubt, joke, as the Denial Decalogue says. 

Steve hums. 

"Yeah, I guess he can't hold a candle to the real thing. Not as talkative, for one."

Eddie can't help but stare, still leaning over his friend as he processes what he's heard. 

"You like my constant yapping?" he asks in surprise. Even his uncle seems tired of it, at times. Only his players appreciate his word flow, but that's with benefit to them.

"Of course." Steve focuses his attention back on the toy. "When you talk, I don't have to, I can just listen. And that's good because I tend to say some stupid shit," he says, almost absentmindedly. "This way, I'm not the dumb one in the room for once."

The casual innocence of his voice makes the meaning of his words miss Eddie completely until the air waves hit his other ear. 

"Oh, you little..."

As Steve's cheeky smirk grows, he pounces. 

Frankenbunny falls away, the hands holding him now focused on guarding all the ticklish spots. 

"Eddie!" Steve laughs, trying to grasp his wrists and squirm away. "We need to be quiet." 

"Should have though of it before being a brat!" Eddie grins at him, doubling his efforts and moving to pin him in place. 

Steve makes a distressed sound and writhes under him, bending hard enough it dislodges Eddie off of him but also, off the bed. He falls down with a surprised squeak.

"Sorry!" Steve barely suppresses his laugh when he looks down at him. "You alright?"

"No," Eddie groans, splayed on the floor. "I got back-stabbed."

"The dramatics are intact, you'll be fine," he rolls his eyes and steps over him. Eddie makes an even more wounded sound, but Steve ignores him, choosing to look for something comfy to wear instead. He throws a tshirt that doesn't smell of barbecue at Eddie's face, mistakenly assuming that's it—they are going to leave his bedroom and start on breakfast for the others. 

Wrong.

As soon as he has a pick of clothes in his hand, and is trying to get to the bathroom, Eddie grabs his ankle. He makes an undignified yelp and lands on the other boy. Which, serves him well. 

They roll on his carpet in an impromptu wrestling match, grinning at each other and muffling their laughs, trying to get the upper hand. 

Until Steve snaps his teeth at Eddie.

They freeze, two pairs of wide eyes staring at the other in silence. 

Steve moves first, backing away and almost falling over Eddie's knees. 

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he explains quickly, scrambling to get off his friend. Eddie doesn't stop him, just stares openly at the mesmerizing specimen in front of him.

"That was so fucking hot."

"I don't know why I did—what?" Steve sits back on his haunches, eyes even wider as he stares at Eddie. At his wild hair splayed around his head, at his flushed face. The sliver of skin visible where his shirt has ridden up while they were roughhousing. 

"What?" he parrots, licking his lips nervously. 

"What did you just say?" Steve presses, voice turning desperate, pressing. But Eddie seals his mouth into a tight line. Lead by a hunch, he looks for his answer down the line of his body.

"Hey!" Eddie protests, sitting up and pulling his shirt down. But it was too late, the tent in his pants has been seen. "What the fuck, man?!" he hisses, his face red and eyes wide in panic. 

"Sorry, I—" Steve bites his lip. "But I snapped at you? That's weird, right?"

"Well, I'm apparently into weird, so..." Eddie trails off, looking away. Pointedly avoiding Steve's searching eyes. 

"You're into it?" he prods, but all Eddie can give him is a shrug. It's too fresh of a feeling to properly explain. Hell, he hasn't full came to terms with it himself yet. 

"Is it like a... a sex thing?" Steve tries again. 

"Maybe? Probably? I don't know!" Eddie snaps defensively, folding in on himself to hide his thankfully wilting erection. 

Steve's silence is terrifying, and when he looks up, he finds his eyes still studying him.

"Quit staring, man," he mumbles, squeezing his thighs together. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Steve shakes his head. "It's fine, it happens. But just... don't move for a second."

"It happens," Eddie is muttering mockingly, when the rest of his friend's words register in his brain. "What?" But Steve is already too close, and he can't escape. Not that he wants to. "Steve," he says quietly, between a warning and a plea, when warm breath hits his neck.

Steve is sniffing him. At the crook of his neck, where undoubtedly his embarrassment has gathered in a pool of sweat.

He's terrified in a way that has nothing to do with fear. Worried what Steve might smell on him, when his surprisingly cold nose brushes his skin. 

Or maybe it's him running hot with whatever has just transpired. 

Eddie flinches at the touch and Steve moves away, his eyes big and warm with something he can't read. 

"You're fine," he says, and it sounds more like a relief of his own than reassurance for Eddie. "I'm into weird too."

Eddie looks at him quizzically, until he realizes it's not Steve's face holding his answers. He trails his gaze down, and immediately aims it back upward, over-correcting towards the heavens, where maybe he'll get some guidance.

"Shit," he croaks out from his closed up throat. Steve is way too close to him too, from his impromptu sniffing session. Eddie coughs to clear his airways. "Why did you smell me? Is it that bad?" he jokes, but has a feeling Steve won't take the out. Not with the curious way he's looking at him. 

"You smell like want," he answers with painful honesty. "Embarrassment."

Eddie blushes at that one. Well, yeah. Popping a boner in front of your, uh, something, will do that to a man.

"But also joy, affection," Steve continues. "And no fear."

"Why would I fear you? We were just playing around. It's not like you're gonna bite me," he focuses on the safest option. He's not unpacking his feelings for Steve first thing in the morning. Maybe after a coffee. 

It's Steve's turn to go beet red. 

"Sometimes I want to."

"What?" 

He shuffles back sheepishly. 

"Sometimes I see you and I really, really wanna bite you."

Eddie stares at him.

"In like, a werewolf way?" he asks dumbly, earning himself a flat look.

"I think we've established this is not how werewolves are made. I meant in, like, a playful way," he explains. "Like, I'm so excited and happy I can't hold it in anymore, way."

He wants to ask if it's a pack thing, but bites his tongue, not sure if anyone has even taught Steve pack rituals. The guy is going through pure instincts alone, and should be supported in it, so really, there's only one thing he can say.

"Well, why won't you?"

They stare at each other in stunned silence, until a clatter comes from downstairs.

"Steeeeve! The express is doing it again!"

Eddie deflates with a groan, falling back onto the carpet. What the fuck did he just say? He won't survive this crush. Steve will be no help, as he's now hovering over his body.

"We'll get back to this," he says quietly, in a promise or a warning, before clambering upright and out of the room, yelling at Robin.

"Do not press the fucking button!"

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot @dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1 @stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible @bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets @ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight  @eyehartart @ellietheasexylibrarian @im-sam-fucking-winchester

[daengtokki]

I'm not the last anon! But if you have some time, i'd like to request a ksm tooth aching fluff with the pregnant reader (in the deity universe) like how he deals with the momma at the hardest time of the pregnancy, but like a lil more detailed than the ones in the deity chapters, if u don't mind?

serial killer!Kim Seungmin x afab reader

wc: 1.3k

rating: fluff (contains: pregnancy, vomiting, mentions of murder/blood, psychosis)

comments: thank you anon! sorry this took so long to answer, but I’ve been a bit stuck lately. this little oneshot includes some fun things not yet mentioned in the story! I wrote two of these, so I may post the other as well!

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Seungmin turns over and feels for you next to him. His eyes open slowly, and he sees the faintest sign of morning coming in through the space in the curtains. The sun reflects off the new glass vase, and specks of it shimmer against the wall. The light makes it look warm, but it’s still cold for April, and before he starts wondering where you’ve gone, he pulls the blanket up around his neck as a shiver runs down his arms. Sleep almost finds him again, but he hears something. Seungmin checks the time on his phone—6:20. You can’t possibly be up for the day, he thinks, even if you did fall asleep at nine last night.

He reluctantly throws off the blanket and sits up, but he gives himself a moment before moving again. The quality of his sleep is coming through in his swimming head, and his puffy eyes. It’s not your fault that you tend to wake every few hours, though. Your level of discomfort and his are on two completely different levels, and Seungmin wishes he could take some of yours for himself. He closes the gap in the curtain on his way out, because he fully intends to go right back to bed, and he knows you’ll be doing the same. First, he has to find you.

“Are you out here, love?”

The kitchen and living room are both empty and dark, but the bathroom light spills through the crack in the door. He hears the noise again—a stifled cough, this time followed by a louder one, and then what Seungmin thinks is a cry. He quickly fills a glass with water and heads toward the bathroom, knocking softly so he doesn’t startle you.

“Hey, you okay?” The look on your tear-streaked face says no, but you sniffle and nod anyway. “Sip some water.” He kneels down next to you and rubs your back.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I know I’ve been keeping you up…”

“You’re allowed to keep me up. And wake me up if you need me. Does your stomach still hurt?”

You nod as you carefully sip the water, but you have a feeling it’s going to want to come right back up. The morning sickness (and afternoon and evening sickness) should be almost gone by now, but it’s hanging on. “Can I have your sweatshirt?”

He pulls it over his head and helps you into it, and you seem to relax as soon as you fold your covered arms around yourself. It’s still perfectly warm from his sleep, and it sinks right into you.

“Do you wanna try lying down…uhm, and I can get something for by the bed if you feel sick again?” Before you even answer, he tucks an arm around your legs and pulls you close. “I’ll find you some ginger candies, that should help a little. Maybe something fizzy.''

“Yeah…okay. I can stand.”

Seungmin holds tight to you anyway, and as soon as you’re on your feet, you have to close your eyes and find your balance. The room starts to spin, and clutching onto his arm just makes him worry even more. “Put your arms around my neck.” You do as he says this time, and he lifts you easily. “See? Much better.”

“It is”

“Once you’re back under the covers, you’ll feel better”

“And what if I puke all over you?”

He laughs, because he’s not prepared for that question or mental image. “I’ve had worse things splattered all over me.”

How could you forget how gruesome he can get? Probably because he looks at you the way he’s looking at you right now. You’ve witnessed his kills, both clean and messy, but all you really know about the in between is what he’s told you. And you were curious enough to ask not long after the last Uljin trip…

***

“Is it strange for me to ask what your messiest kill was?”

“Strange? Yes, but that is kind of our normal, right?”

Yes, strange is your baseline and part of the foundation of your relationship. If your life had been different, and if you weren’t already enamored with him and the attention he gave, you might have run from him without a second thought. Now you can’t imagine being without him. “It is.”

“Probably my first time. Surprising. First after my stepfather, at least. I was seventeen, and had no idea what I was getting myself into.”

You brace yourself for what has to be a very awkward, clumsy teenage Seungmin. But he smiles as he reflects on it.

“It was some college kid I picked up at a sports bar. I hadn’t figured out what quieted the noise in my head until after him, and it was amazing to discover that. But it took me hours to clean up my aunts basement. Luckily they both liked their sleeping pills and didn’t hear a thing. My knife skills have greatly improved since then.”

“So how did you learn how to dispose of them?”

“That came later. I got lucky with this one. There was an actual serial killer going after college-aged guys around the same time, and it got pinned on him when he was caught.”

“An actual serial killer?”

Seungmin laughs, “I was so stupid. I should have been caught a long time ago.”

“No. I needed to find you."

***

Seungmin sets you gently on the bed, and you watch as he searches the room…then he leaves and comes back, trash can in one hand, and a fistful of your ginger candies in the other.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, you can ask me anything.” He unwraps one of them and sets it against your lips until you open for him.

“I don’t know why I’m thinking about it right now, but when you say that killing quiets your mind…what do you mean? What exactly do you silence?”

It’s far from what he expected, so he has to think about it. He busies himself fluffing his pillow and getting comfortable under the blanket again. His legs find yours as he moves closer.

“Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“It’s a voice, sort of. Two voices sometimes, at the same time. But it’s hard to make out what they say. Sometimes it’s a hum, or a vibration that won’t stop…like ringing in your ears, but worse. And sometimes it’s a scratching sound, or an itch.” He grabs your hand and sets your palm flat against his ear. “The longer I wait, the louder it gets.”

“Do you hear it right now?”

“No. All quiet. Just us.”

“Will you tell me when it happens again?”

“When it starts?” He asks, closing the rest of the space between you.

“Yes, the minute it starts. So we can stop it.” Your body feels like it’s on autopilot as it sits up and turns away from him, but all you do over the edge of the bed is dry heave. His hands grab and steady you, and when you relax, they pull until you’re tucked against his chest.

“Don’t worry about me.” He whispers against your ear, kisses your neck. Your skin feels cold against his lips.

“Of course I will. You’re mine to worry about. I get to take care of you, too.”

Seungmin is quiet as he thinks. He is yours, and he’s a handful. “I’ll tell you.” He’s a lot to worry about.

“Good. And since you’re already back there…”

“Yeah?”

“Can you rub my back?”

[sapphiresaphics]

Alright, let’s do this.

Part 1 because this video is 2 hours long and I can barely get through 20 mins without breaking down all the ways this video is not only wrong but grossly misrepresenting the source material.

LET’S GO!

Starts off on shaky grounds by complaining that Vi being in the enforcer uniform in the trailers for season 2 bugged her. Uses the term “copaganda” to describe it, despite that’s NOT what Arcane is about or supports. So we’re off to a good start huh?

Then they start by defining the terms for liberal and conservatism. Okay, that’s fine. If you’re gonna talk about these things you need to make sure everyone is on the same page.

During the description of how Season 1 begins they make the claim that Arcane is about these two sisters and that season 2 fails in this regard. This is a frustrating remark because Arcane IS about these two sisters. It follows their journey all the way through the show and both begins and ends with Vi and the song sung here.

BUT… they are not the ONLY main characters. And if they were the main characters they must be doing something wrong cuz Vi disappears entirely for 2 whole episodes across BOTH seasons. So rather than see Season 1 and 2 as two halves of a whole, you’re starting off with a bias that there’s a split and that season 1 is better than 2 inherently. I despise this leading commentary in an analysis video, but let’s see where we go from here. We’re only 8:40 into the video so it can’t be that bad, right?

10:11 wait… what’s wrong with brothels? You gonna come back to that weird throwaway line?

12:00 alright, yes… this is basically just explaining what the conflict is between the two cities. Many of the writers have stated that the central theme of the show is the cycle of violence, so having a conflict between these two cities makes senses. Where I think you screw up though is you seem to think this is a story about the left overcoming the right, instead of a background setting for the characters to be thrust against.

12:30 uh… Caitlyn DOES react to it though? That’s her whole questioning of Vi is about. She’s trying to figure out why Vi is there if there’s nothing recorded. It’s her first taste of the corruption she’s been oblivious to. And it’s odd enough that she feels sympathy for Vi and her situation. Don’t gloss over that.

12:50 okay but that’s not a fair comparison? If Vi HAD been processed normally and gotten a fair trial she likely would’ve been in a cell with a bed and all that stuff too. Markus DELIBERATELY BURIED her to cover his own skin. As commented on later “Markus felt it was more of a mercy to lock her up than to kill her.” The corruption surrounding Vi is UNIQUE to Vi. That’s WHY Caitlyn comments on it.

Noticing a lot of casual negativity being tossed around in here too. Suggesting Shimmer is the only form of medicine Zaun has is WILD and WRONG, but fine, let’s let it slide for now…

“Why Season 1 seemed Leftist”

Oh boy, that’s a title… alright whatcha got?

13:34 “ive given a detailed recap of what Season 1 says about Piltover and Zaun.” Actually… no you didn’t. You laid out the conflict and the story… but you said NOTHING about what this actually means. Describing police brutality isn’t a detailed recap of what the show is saying, you’re just describing plot points. And badly at that as I’ve already pointed out… you’ve said nothing yet.

14:21 “Vi was a burgeoning little revolutionary in Act 1” woah woah woah… slow down there, no she wasn’t. Vi has NEVER cared about revolution. What she WANTS and what she VOICES is that she wants Powder to have a better life than hers. She wants her family to be safe, and she’s foolhardy enough to risk her life getting there. And importantly: Vander talks her down from this. Because he’s been where she was. He knows how easily this talk of violence can spiral out of control and take away the people you love. And he asks Vi who she is willing to risk sacrificing for this violence… and when push comes to shove Vi CHOOSES NOT TO START A REVOLUTION because Powder being alive is more important to her. And at NO POINT PAST EPISODE 2 does Vi champion for Zaun’s independence or revolution. FAMILY is all that matters to Vi, so you’ve fundamentally misunderstood her character from the jump.

14:31 calling out the actions of Piltover’s isn’t fermenting a revolution though. She’s holding them accountable for their actions and begging them to change. And when they don’t follow through she falls back on her only method of getting stuff done that she knows… vigilante Justice. Vi has no interest in starting a revolution, she just wants Powder to be safe and taking out Silco is the way she thinks she can do that.

Also, Ekko is an isolationist. He keeps people AWAY from Piltover and Zaun while still benefiting from what they have to offer. He has good intentions, but pretending the conflict isn’t happening isn’t beneficial in the long run (as we will see in season 2).

16:00 “Caitlyn seemed to be going down the path of a character who would play a critical role in Zaun getting equal treatment and independence.” Yeah… that’s called setup. It SEEMS like that’s where she’s going. And If Jinx hadn’t blown up the council building maybe yeah that IS where she would’ve gone…. But the cycle of violence rears its ugly head and everything falls apart. That’s how story progression works. This isn’t a negative, this is just you projecting what you wanted to see happen.

17:10 “Vander believed it was better to submit to Piltover instead of fighting against it.” Uh… no… no he didn’t? Vander didn’t submit to Piltover at all. He made a deal with them. They don’t bother him, he doesn’t bother them. And when push came to shove he refused to give up his people and was steadfast in keeping the peace. That’s not “submitting to Piltover.” Submitting would’ve been giving his people up to maintain peace. And Vander didn’t do that. That’s a BAD READING of what Vander’s politics were.

Is now a bad time to remind everyone this user is a SPONGEBOB RECAP CHANNEL?

“Season 1 vs Season 2”

I have a feeling this is where a lot of my disagreements are gonna come into play…

18:16 you just SKIPPED OVER the fact that Caitlyn was TRYING to maintain the peace and objected to the invasion of Zaun and are intercutting scenes of Caitlyn AFTER the SECOND attack on the memorial with the scenes of BEFORE the attack to lump her in with the council. This is deceptive editing and you are misleading your audience here.

19:24 important key information left out here, the Riktus arrests weren’t sanctioned by Caitlyn or the city of Piltover. That was Ambessa’s men doing it against her wishes, something she SPECIFICALLY CHASTISES Ambessa for doing earlier.

Hey, what are these politics again? You haven’t really said anything is left or right, you’re just assuming that if you recap the story WE WILL KNOW what is or isn’t left and right wing. We are 20 minutes in and you haven’t really detailed the politics at all or explained WHY someone might think something is left or right wing. You had a WHOLE SECTION on it and yet you said nothing? That’s a little odd…

19:43 Caitlyn not using those low level cells is kinda important information, don’t gloss over that.

19:48 “Jinx uses MCU humor.” Oh for fuck’s sake. “MCU humor” is not a real thing. I’ve gone into this in other posts, but the idea that there’s this specific TYPE of humor that ONLY MCU films use is absurd. It also has its origins in right-wing talking points, which is why I called you right-wing when I first saw your initial post. As a leftist you shouldn’t be using the terms the right create to hate on things they despise. If you want more information, the term came about roughly around 2016 when the DC team up movie Justice League bombed at the box office. Right wing fans were angry that Joss Whedon was brought in to fix Zack Snieder’s version of the film and started demanding the “Snieder cut.” Because Snieder is known to be “serious” with his filmmaking and Whedon was from Marvel and is more lighthearted, this idea that any joke or form of lighthearted fun that was added to Justice League was “MCU humor.”

So fuck you as a leftist. You’re using RIGHT WING ideological talking points to back up an argument that the show isn’t “leftist enough?” This is one step away from using right-wing version of the term “woke” unironically.

20:31 “we aren’t told why the Zaunites come back other than seeing enforcers being nice influences them” no.. no that’s not what’s going on there. I’ll cite this as an example because it’s easy for leftists to understand, but segregation, civil war, and the genocide of native Americans were still fresh in peoples minds during WWI and WWII, and yet some of the bravest and best soldiers we had during then were black peoples and native Americans. Native Americans specifically used their native tongue to encode messages that the Nazis couldn’t understand. Why would minorities and people abused by the system of America come to the aid of America when fighting against such a huge foe? It’s not because some of them saw police officers being kind to them. It’s because deep down this is their HOME. For better or worse. And they believe that fighting for their home is more honorable than leaving it to rot and die. I dunno, maybe before passing judgement on these people who came back to defend their homes you consider the historical implications and see what minorities and Native Americans had to say about it their fighting in the wars?

I dunno, maybe it’s cuz you’re young and inexperienced with life it really pisses me off when kids like you imply these people shouldn’t have come back and that they’re some sort of traitors…

20:39 Jesus I can’t even go 8 seconds without you putting your foot in your mouth. Zaun comes to fight IN EARNEST because JINX showed up. Jinx was the symbol of the revolution to Zaunites. So when SHE chooses to fight, they rally behind her. Just like they WANTED to do back in episode 4.

20:51 what you call “being snarky” about Zaunites coming back to save their home from obliteration, I call being grossly disrespectful to the many men and women who gave their lives defending a country that does not have their best interest in mind all the time. Again, segregation was legal and women couldn’t vote during WWII, yet women got jobs and fought for their rights while black and minorities defended a country that only a few decades back had a literal civil war over their rights as property. I do not understand why I need to explain this to you, but I’m guessing school just hasn’t taught you to be respectful to people who sacrifice their lives for the prospect of the greater good.

Like Jesus Christ, how does someone who’s left leaning shit on this? It boggles my mind.

21:10 yeah… that’s the TRAGEDY of Piltover and Zaun. Sevika being added to the council is a COMMENTARY on the theme of the show. Because yes, you ARE supposed to be critical of this decision. You ARE supposed to be mad she’s the only Zaunite there. You ARE supposed to question if this is a bandaid solution that doesn’t really solve anything. Because Piltover and Zaun are ALWAYS going to be in conflict with one another. Piltover and Zaun represent the cycle of violence. What happened before will happen again. The solution to the systemic issues WASN’T solved.

And if you think that’s the show saying that’s a GOOD thing, you really missed the message of the show. Because the message is that we need to break out of the cycle of violence. That we need to NOT follow in these easily trodden footsteps. So Sevika being put on the council as a bandaid solution is a WARNING. It’s telling the audience that this ISN’T how you break out of the cycle. That this is yet another way in which the cycle is going to be allowed to continue.

THIS IS THE SHOW TELLING YOU THIS IS NOT GOOD, and you’re looking at it going “I guess the show thinks this is good?!!!???” Seriously, how do you misinterpret this as “centrist” or not a left leaning message????? The show is DIRECTLY CRITICIZING IT!!! OMG

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"CAN I...?"

Another fic with him because I need him so bad isn't funny anymore, please just one chance Dave PLEASE I love him

I hope you like it!

You and Dave had been friends for quite some time.

You had gone to each other's houses on countless occasions, but in the last few weeks something had changed between you.

Your best friend ignored your messages and when you were together he would quickly look away from you, as if he was trying not to pay you more attention than necessary.

That's why, tired of that strange situation, and taking advantage of the fact that you were alone in his room in the middle of an afternoon of studying, you decided to leave the notebook on his bed, where you were doing your homework, to look at him.

He turned around when he heard the knock, his blue eyes went from the notebook to you for a moment.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, putting a hand on his chest. "You scared me."

"We both know that's not true," you said, crossing your arms. "Spit it out."

"What?" –he questioned, staring at you intently-

-You've been ignoring me for weeks, Dave –you reminded him, as if he didn't already know- if I've done something that has offended you, I'm sorry, okay? But I can't go on like this –you confessed- I miss my best friend

He left the pen he was holding on the table, while he turned his desk chair around to focus fully on you.

-Sorry, it's just been a few rough weeks and I… –he swallowed hard- yes, that's the reason I've behaved like this

-You're a very bad liar –you murmured, holding his gaze- I know you too well to know when you're being sincere and when you're not, and now you're not –you paused for a second before asking in your most reassuring tone- What's wrong?

He lowered his head for a moment, before focusing on the slippers he was wearing.

-I… -he swallowed nervously- before I tell you, promise me it won't affect our friendship

You raised an eyebrow

-Are you gay? –you questioned, he frowned and shook his head vigorously-

-What? No!

-It wouldn't be a problem if you were –you added- there are a lot of boys in our school who…

-I like you –he interrupted you, making you open your eyes wide-

You blinked a couple of times quickly, as if your ears had gone bad, and you hadn't understood him well.

-What? –you asked, dazed, staring at the way his blue eyes shone-

-I like you –he repeated, looking away somewhere other than you- I'm sorry, I… I wanted to tell you before, but I didn't want to… -he took a deep, shaky breath- I was afraid this would end our friendship

-Nothing is over, Lizewski –you affirmed- you will always be my friend, no matter what

-No matter what happens –he repeated in a low voice-

Now it was your turn to ask

-Since when? –you wanted to know, he tilted his head, sketching a shy little smile that made you want to get up to kiss him-

-I don't know for sure –he confessed- but I think it was since we were paired together in the science project –he explained- Do you remember? you invited me over to your house to do it, and then when it got late you insisted I stay for dinner and the night –he looked up at you again- you were wearing green jeans, a white t-shirt and a black bow to hold your hair back –he listed blushing with embarrassment as he remembered all the details- you were… -he swallowed nervously again before finishing- you were very pretty

-Oh, Dave, I… -you started, but he stopped you with a nod-

-It’s okay if you don’t feel the same –he said- I… I feel better now that you know –he confessed- it was too heavy a burden to carry alone

-I was going to say that I feel the same for you –you confessed, this time you were the one who blushed and he stared at you with his beautiful blue eyes- I’ve never felt this way about anyone –you confessed- and I think… -you pressed your lips tightly before saying- I think I’m in love with you

-Really? –he asked hopefully, as he stood up and sat down next to you on his bed slowly-

-Yes –you whispered, his closeness making all the barriers you had built around yourself to protect yourself from his charm fade away little by little- Are you…?

-Yes –he interrupted nervously- yes, I think so –he said making both of you smile- Can I… -he looked down at your mouth before fixing it on your eyes again- can I kiss you?

-It's not that you can –you whispered unable to take your gaze off his pink lips- it's that you have to

His lips connected with yours delicately, as if he was making sure that this was real, that you were in front of him and that this was really happening.

You returned the kiss following the movement of his lips, at the same time that you placed your hands behind his neck, catching several curls of his brown hair between your fingers.

He sighed into your mouth as you lightly pulled him closer. You felt like you were going to melt just from hearing him.

He pulled away from you to catch his breath, the lenses of his glasses fogged up and his lips swollen from the kisses you had given each other. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of each other.

-It seems that I'm not the only one who had dreamed of this moment -he mocked, sketching a half-smile-

You shook your head as if it were hopeless, before hooking your arms behind his neck again, bringing him closer to you.

-It's possible -you ventured- now kiss me, Dave

And that was exactly what he did

[daydreamabout]

Old Flames, New Patrols (Tim Bradford Imagine x exwife!reader)

Summary: When the precinct runs short on officers, you're transferred to fill the gap. Now, you're back on patrol with your ex-husband, Tim—as you realize how much of your confidence was tied to him, even after all this time. [mentions of domestic disturbance]

It’s your first day back at the precinct after the transfer. The air feels thick as you walk into the building, the smell of stale coffee and the sharp scent of bleach from the cleaning supplies hitting your senses. You’ve been away for two years, but it still looks the same—gray walls, buzzing lights, officers milling around, deep in conversation or focused on their desks.

You make your way toward the briefing room, your footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. Each step feels heavier, the tension in the air creeping up your spine. You haven't seen Tim since the divorce, and the thought of being in the same space with him again, working side by side for three months, is... unsettling.

You push the door open and step inside. The room goes quiet for a moment, eyes flicking toward you. Most of the officers don’t know who you are—just that you're the one here to help out. Your eyes immediately search for the familiar face you used to wake up to every day. There’s Tim, standing by the windows, arms crossed over his chest. He looks exactly the same. Maybe a little more worn down, but it’s him. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, but he quickly looks away. You can’t tell if it’s relief or discomfort on his face.

Sargeant Grey is at the front, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. He clears his throat, and the chatter dies down. You take your seat at the back of the room, feeling all the eyes on you now. Tim doesn’t acknowledge you further, though you can sense him there, just within reach. It's almost suffocating.

"Alright, listen up," Grey’s gravelly voice cuts through the tension in the room. "We’re short-handed today, so we need to make it count. Y/N, welcome back. You’re only here for three months, so let’s make this time worth it. We need all hands on deck. Get familiar with the new assignments, hit the ground running. You’re in with Tim for your shift today. I trust you two can handle it."

You don’t miss the way Tim’s jaw tightens at the mention of your name. He doesn’t look at you, but his body posture shifts, a barely noticeable tension seeping through his rigid stance. Sargeant Grey gives a brief rundown of the cases that need immediate attention, but your mind keeps drifting back to your ex.

It’s strange. Working together again feels... weird. Your whole relationship feels like a lifetime ago, but the remnants of it are still there, sitting between you both. You’ve built your life, your career, apart, but here you are—back together in the same room. The silence between you both says everything that words can’t. He’s still the same —strong, sharp, focused. But there's a distance there now, a wall between you that wasn’t there before.

Grey finishes up with the details. "Any questions? No? Good. Get out there and stay safe."

The briefing wraps up, and officers start filing out, but you linger, just for a second. You grab your bag and head out to the garage where the cars are parked. Tim's footsteps follow behind you, the sound too familiar. You can feel him closing the space between you but neither of you says anything. He grabs his keys, but you don’t meet his gaze. Instead, you focus on the cruiser parked in front of you, doing your best to ignore the sharp pang in your chest.

“Ready?” Tim’s voice is low, controlled. He doesn’t wait for a response, just opens the door and slides in.

You hesitate for a moment, taking in the sight of the passenger seat you once called your own. The silence stretches out, thick and suffocating. Finally, you slip into the seat next to him, and the moment your seatbelt clicks, you feel the tension in the car increase. Neither of you says a word as the engine roars to life.

The drive to your first assignment feels longer than it should. Neither of you speak, both of you caught in that strange limbo of once being partners—both on and off the job—and now, just colleagues, with an unspoken history lingering in every shared glance and every breath you take in the confined space of the cruiser. You’re here to do a job, but underneath it all, it’s so much more than that.

The silence is almost suffocating as the cruiser rolls through the city, its headlights cutting through the darkened streets. You try to focus on the task ahead—on the job—but your thoughts keep drifting. His presence in the car, right next to you, brings back a rush of memories. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You can still picture him in your mind—the way he would always drive with his hand resting on the wheel, his jaw clenched in concentration, his brow furrowed when things got tense. It’s all still there, etched into your memory. But now, it feels like looking at a stranger.

The first call comes through over the radio.

“Domestic disturbance,” Tim says, breaking the silence. His voice is neutral, businesslike. No trace of the warmth that once was between you two. His hands grip the wheel tighter, his knuckles white.

“Right,” you reply, your voice a little more clipped than you intend. You don’t want to sound cold, but you’re finding it hard to slip into the routine of working together like nothing has changed.

You’ve been through hundreds of calls like this, but tonight, the familiar rush of adrenaline feels different. You can’t help but notice how Tim moves through the motions with ease, just like he always did. He’s in his element, despite the tension. He’s a cop, through and through.

He pulls up in front of a small house, the flashing lights of the squad car casting long shadows on the cracked sidewalk. A woman stands on the porch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes wide and scared.

You both get out, and Tim’s already moving forward, his pace measured, controlled. You follow, but everything feels slow, like you’re wading through water. The distance between you both is tangible, and it’s hard to ignore.

“Ma’am,” he starts, his voice calm, authoritative, but soft enough to not add to the fear in the woman’s eyes. “What’s going on here?”

You stand off to the side, arms crossed over your chest, watching the interaction with practiced eyes. Tim does this so effortlessly—he’s always been the one to take charge in situations like this, his presence reassuring. It makes you realize, once again, how much of your own confidence came from being able to work alongside him.

Flashback

Tim sat next to you in the passenger seat, his presence a force in the small car. You’d learned to appreciate the quiet moments with him, the way he seemed to ground everything in an otherwise chaotic world. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and something more like... pizza, maybe? But you didn’t ask.

“Do you ever just—” Tim started, his voice cutting through the quiet. “—stop thinking?”

You glanced at him as you maneuvered through the empty streets. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he continued, looking out the window. “You’re always so... together. Even when things are crazy, you handle it like you’ve got everything under control.”

You couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped you. “It’s called faking it, Tim. You should try it sometime.”

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow, but the corner of his lips tugged into that small, familiar smirk. “Right. But that doesn’t explain how you make it look so easy.”

Your heart skipped, but you pushed the fluttering feeling aside. Tim wasn’t one for compliments, so when he said things like this, it threw you off a little. You didn’t even know how to respond.

You had learned to keep a cool head, to act calm and confident on the outside, especially with him around. Working alongside wasn’t just about being a good partner. It was about survival. He had a way of making you feel like you could take on anything. And maybe, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’d begun to believe it.

But his question made you realize something. That confidence you projected? It wasn’t just something you’d built from your own experience. No, it was more than that. It came from the way Tim had made you feel when you worked together, the way he trusted you without hesitation, the way he always made sure you knew you were capable, even when you doubted yourself.

You turned your attention back to the road. “It’s... it’s easier when you know you’ve got someone watching your back.”

“Sounds nice,” Tim repeated softly, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he shifted in his seat. “You always seem like you’ve got it handled. Like you don’t need anyone.”

You didn’t look at him this time. “Well, I don’t need anyone to tell me how to do my job.”

There was a pause, and then he asked, almost like he was still testing the waters, “But you’re okay with me being here, right? With me helping out?”

You were taken aback, your fingers tightening on the wheel. It wasn’t a question you expected, not from him. There had always been a kind of unspoken understanding between you two, a connection that didn’t need words. But something in his tone made you realize maybe he was starting to see you differently, maybe even see through the walls you’d put up.

You had never thought about it like that before, but the truth was, you did rely on him. Not just in a professional sense, but in a way that ran deeper than that. It was something you hadn’t admitted to yourself. You didn’t need him to carry the weight of your confidence, but somehow, working alongside him made everything feel a little bit lighter.

“I never said I didn’t need you,” you finally said, the words coming out more vulnerable than you intended. “But I like to keep it... controlled. Keeps things simple.”

Tim didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, searching, like he was seeing something you weren’t saying. His lips parted, but then he just nodded. “I get it.”

The conversation lingered between you for the rest of the drive, quiet and unspoken. But as you pulled up to the precinct and parked, something about the way Tim looked at you felt different. It wasn’t pity or judgment—nothing like that. It was just... understanding.

That understanding continued through the day as you went through your shifts. You weren’t sure when it happened, but you could feel Tim’s eyes on you in a way that wasn’t just professional. It was like he was seeing you for the first time—really seeing you—not just as his partner, but as someone who had built this unshakable front because of everything you had been through. Because of how much you depended on him, and how much you feared depending on anyone at all.

Later that day, when you were taking a break, Tim leaned against the edge of the car, his usual calm demeanor still present, but with something else in his eyes. “Hey,” he said, his tone lighter than before. “If you ever need to talk, you know... I’m here.”

You looked up, surprised by the softness in his voice. It wasn’t the standard "don’t hesitate" cop speak. It was... genuine. Maybe that’s what hit you hardest—how much he had always been there, even in the background. Always steady. Always reliable.

And maybe, just maybe, you realized that the confidence you carried wasn’t just because you were good at your job. It was because you had someone who believed in you, who was there in the trenches with you, whether you showed it or not. Tim had always been your anchor in the chaos and you allowed yourself to see it.

You smiled, a little more honestly than you expected. “I know, Tim. I know.”

You realized how much of your confidence had come from being able to work alongside him—because with Tim Bradford by your side, you didn’t have to fake anything. You could just be you, and that was enough.

Flashback end

You almost catch yourself looking at him, but you quickly look away, focusing back on the woman’s trembling form. She explains in a shaky voice, detailing a fight with her partner, a mix of shouting and pushing, nothing too serious but enough to scare her. It’s routine. No weapons involved, just tempers flaring.

He nods, taking in the information, his expression unreadable. You both move through the process of taking statements, confirming details, and ensuring the situation doesn’t escalate. Tim handles it like he always does—efficient, calm, with just enough authority to keep things from spinning out of control.

After everything is wrapped up and the woman is safely back inside, his head turns to you, his expression guarded but not unkind.

“You good?” he asks, his voice still holding that professional distance.

“Yeah,” you reply, though you’re not sure you are. The tension between you both is like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap at any second. But for now, you push that feeling aside. “Just... like old times.”

“Yeah.” His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he turns away, heading back to the car.

You both fall back into the cruiser without another word, the quiet between you hanging heavy in the air. The drive to the next call feels just as tense, if not more so. It’s hard to focus on the work when everything else feels like it’s shifting beneath your feet. You’re no longer the partners you once were, but here you are, side by side, forced to navigate the job together again.

Another call comes through, and this one’s more serious. A robbery in progress, shots fired. The words slice through the air, and Tim’s reaction is instant. His body tenses, his focus sharpening. He slams the gas, and you feel the jolt of speed as the city blurs around you. The momentary distraction of adrenaline sweeps the tension between you both aside. There’s no time for personal issues, not with this on the line.

“Stay sharp,” Tim says, his voice a low growl, a tone that makes it clear he’s in full cop mode now.

You nod, your body moving on autopilot as the car skids around corners, sirens blaring. Everything else falls away as the job takes over. The past is shoved to the back of your mind, at least for now. It’s just you and him again—partners in the field.

When you arrive at the scene, chaos unfolds before your eyes. Officers are already moving in, securing the area. The suspect is barricaded inside, and you can hear the distant crackle of gunfire. The tension is palpable, but Tim’s instincts take over. He’s the one you always relied on in these situations.

Without hesitation, he starts directing officers, calling the shots. You move with him, side by side, working in sync, though the connection feels distant now.

You both position yourselves at the entrance, ready for whatever happens next. But this time, there’s a stark difference between you and him. A line you both can’t cross, no matter how much you wish you could. The job demands all of you, and right now, that’s all that matters.

“Cover me,” Tim says, his voice steady but with that sharp edge you know all too well. He doesn’t need to say more—you know what he means. You always did.

As he moves toward the building, you stay behind, your hand resting on your holster, eyes scanning the surroundings. The air is thick with danger, and your heart races, not from the nerves of the situation, but because you’re working with him again.

As the situation continues to unfold, you can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—the warmth, the camaraderie, the bond. It’s all there in the motions, in the way you both know what the other is thinking without words. But it's not enough anymore. It never will be. Not after everything that’s happened.

When the dust settles and the situation is handled, you both stand in the aftermath, silently assessing the damage.

“Good work,” Tim says, his voice colder than before. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place.

You nod. “You too.”

As you head back to the cruiser, the weight of the day presses down on you, and you realize just how much you’ve missed this—being out here, in the field, with Tim.

But you also realize that the things you miss aren’t coming back. Not the way you want the-, wait what?

[karereiko]

Hello, everyone from Yuumori fandom... Again.

Did you see morimu already? No? Then there is best time to do it now because it's put on streamings for cheap price, yes all FIVE parts.

I'm doing this post because old one in Zaiko is no longer actual. So once again here is all you need to watch Morimu with English subtitles guide!

You loved anime and manga and want more feelings, less cuts on story? Morimu is for you!

You wanna hear how Sherlock is "wind that touches William's cheek and warms his heart"? You wanna hear how Sherlock is going to "Catch Liam's heart?", Albert's guilt over dragging William into sin? Chaotic lovely family of 221B? Despair of Moriarty team as story progress? Here you have all!

So let's start. For first from all sites where Marvelous now put Morimu on streaming for any fan outside Japan the best would be Theater Complex, Morimu is on 770 yen monthly subscription there, No need for VPN, no prblems with paying, you just make account, subscribe and watch in HD. Never simpler.

There are fanmade subtitles for all 5 parts done by Kana, you can find them here:

https://kanasmusings.tumblr.com/

In order to play subtitles with streams you need Google chrome and this plugin

https://chromewebstore.google.com/detail/substital-add-subtitles-t/kkkbiiikppgjdiebcabomlbidfodipjg?pli=1

If you know any other plugin that works similar on other browsers you can try them too, I know and tried this one.

You only need to convert Kana's subtitles to .srt format because .ass won't load, we asked for permission if fans can do that and we got agree answer. Here is some Online converter site.

https://subtitletools.com/convert-to-srt-online

With that you have everything. You play video, click on plugin, pick your subtitle file and enjoy Morimu.

As always remember to not share any videos or subtitles in public places, if you need to talk or watch with friends do it only private. Morimu status and future is quite unsure currently and Japan companies are pretty strict, it won't be problem for fandom only but also might to you because Marvelous tracks all files of their stages/musicals and ban/delete them without mercy.

Here is official Twitter of Morimu if you wanna know more and you are still unsure if to watch it:

https://x.com/mu_moriarty

And here is Youtube playlist of official promo stuff:

https://youtu.be/uNCL2JzafmI?si=p1jZIk1wPYr8JTCi

Oh How I love trailers for DVD/Bluray of OP1 and OP5 T_T

[daeniradraconis]

Okay, now we need a whole cinematic universe based on the Age Gap fics.

We need a Jack fic where he meets a girl and instead of the meaningless hookup he’d planned he has the most meaningful heart to heart with her (crazy stupid love style) and suddenly can’t even fathom hookup culture. He is a committed man, he just won’t admit it, (and maybe he refuses to do anything hookup-ish with her, it’s gotta mean something)

We need a Quinn fic (with a Latina woman) in which he decides “fuck it, I guess I’ll just try a hookup, no emotional attachment” cause he needs to decompress, but she seems to show up at the most convenient times for him post hookup (like serendipity telling him he needs to loosen up more, have another hookup) even though she denies him any sort of contact details so it can remain casual.

Sorry, that’s a big ask lol

Aww, I’m so thrilled you loved the story!!! 💕 You seriously read my mind with that request! I’m super excited to share that I’ve already started working on the Jack/Quinn sequels! I’ve got tons of ideas, and the Jack fic is already 12 pages long—just from getting started! 😄 I can't wait to share both of them with you!

But while I’m finishing them up, here’s a little sneak peek from the Jack part:

---

Anja couldn’t stop herself from laughing despite how much she wanted to keep her composure. “This is the worst pitch I’ve ever heard in my life, Jack. Put your shirt down already.”

But Jack held strong, his grip steady, not giving an inch. "You know you want to. I’m practically giving you the world here. I can be your support, your personal cheerleader. You’ll be the brains of the relationship, and I’ll—"

"—Be the ‘muscles,’ right?" Anja interrupted, raising an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Exactly! I’ll be your biggest supporter, always backing you up. And hey, I’ll even throw in the fact that I’m probably the best at making people laugh."

Anja stared at him—this insufferably stubborn, over-the-top guy—and, despite herself, couldn’t help but laugh again. “Jack, you’re a complete disaster. But fine,” she sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll give it to you—you’ve got muscles... and, I guess that counts for something?”

[glitchy-npc]

Jumpscare

Series: Fallen Hero Pairing:@dogueteeth-fhr Cerrisa "Beck" Becerra(they/them)/Tegan Wells (he/him) Tegan's POV. Warnings: none Word count: 1339

Los Diablos is almost pretty at night. It’s mostly the lights, the glow softening all the dirty, ugly aspects of the city that can’t hide in broad daylight. Not that the nights are innocent, far from it, but the distracting lights and the deeper shadows they create make it easier for the kind of work I do.  It’s messy, violent work but it's the only skill set I have, villainy isn’t that different from vigilantism at all. Or worse, what I did before. At least now I get to pick my targets.

I shift my weight to the other foot and flex my hands, the armored plates of my gauntlets gliding smoothly with the motion. The armor has practically become a second skin. How did I ever survive all those years ago, running around in a fucking skinsuit and jacket? 

Oh right, I didn’t.

Sidestep had to die so Retribution could be born, or some poetic shit like that. My mind always wanders when I’m stuck waiting.   

I’m waiting for Beck, or rather Heartbreak since we’re on a job. It's not that they’re late, I’m just early. I can chalk it up to post mission nerves, but really I just want to see them. 

I shift back to the other foot and cross my arms, trying to go over mission details but it’s hard to focus. I don’t even know what their armor looks like, this is the first time we’ve met for work. Every other time it had been hangouts that turned into drinks that turned into…ok I’m really distracted. Focus, idiot. 

I don’t have to wait much longer before I feel the growingly familiar brush of Beck's mind as they approach. 

“Good timing, I almost left without you.” I say without turning around. Their chuckle, muffled by their helmet, confirms what my telepathy already told me. It’s handy like that, always knowing who is behind you.

There are some blind spots though.

I turn to face them, we need to go over the plan one more time.

“So, we need to - JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.” The swear is torn from my throat almost before I have time to think it but my heart is racing somewhere around my eardrums.

Heartbreak spins around reflexively, their mind lighting up as they search for the potential threat. “What, what is it!?” 

“No, no, it's nothing, I just…” I try to return my heartbeat to normal and to think of anything that isn’t the truth.

Heartbreak’s armor is terrifying. 

They turn back towards me and staring at that helmet isn’t any better than the first time. They place a hand on their hip and tilt their head to the side, the gesture a twisted combination of sass and nightmare fuel.

“Something wrong?” Their question is light but the vocal distorters are not doing me any favors. 

“No just…nice design choice.” It's anything but nice but what do I know? 

“Don’t tell me you got scared?” Their tone is teasing.

“No.” I lie. “But you could have warned me.” I should be getting used to it by now but it's still so disconnected with how I usually see Beck – warm brown skin and scar tissue and the smiles they try to hide from me while I pretend I’m not looking. It still feels like Beck, mentally, but how can I be sure? Maybe it's someone else, someone with super telepathy, making me feel like it's them when they’re not.

“I don’t have super telepathy.” They laugh, derailing my train of thought. Right, they still have the normal kind and I’m an idiot. “You know it's me Tegan.

“Do I?” I ask, closing the gap between us. “Maybe you should take off the helmet and show me?” And maybe I can regain a sliver of my dignity if I pretend to be smooth.

“Hm. You first.” Of course their response is a challenge but it's an easy one.

It takes only a second to find the connection panel of my armor's face plate and remove it. I've spent so much time tinkering with this armor I know every bit by heart and muscle memory. I blink a few times to adjust my vision.

“Ok, now do me.”

I can’t help the cough I try to pass off as a laugh, there’s no way they didn’t phrase it like that on purpose. Little shit. 

“You want me to take your helmet off?” 

“I mean, unless you don’t think you can figure it out…” Their voice trails off, another challenge and a harder one this time but there's no way I could back down from something like that.

“Oh I can figure it out, just give me a minute.” 

It's getting easier to look at the helmet this close, though the design is meant to intimidate and inspire fear it's still just plasteel, paint and carbon fiber. Those I can deal with. I try to keep my face straight as I glide my armored fingers over the jaw portion of the skull, despite the teeth it seems to be one solid piece, no seams that I can see but then again Dr. Mortums work is flawless. 

Heatbreak stands stock still as my fingers work their way over the hands and I swear they’re the worst fucking part, I don’t want to know why Beck chose them as part of the design. I could guess, but I don’t like that line of thought either. I tuck the faceplate of my own armor under my arm and with both my hands on either side of their helmet it feels intimate in a way that's hard to process, I just hope it doesn’t show on my face. Though I can’t see their eyes I know they must be looking at me. There's a vulnerability to it, my face bare, while theirs remains concealed. But its a small price to pay, not like the blow to my pride that will be if I can’t figure this fucking – oh. There's a small panel, tucked behind the hands and concealed by the hood. I press it, rewarded by the familiar hiss of depressurised oxygen. The top and jaw portion come away in my hands.

Beck's handsome face smirks back at me, cheeks flushed and green eyes glinting even in the semi darkness. 

“Told you I could figure it out, now what do I wi-”

Beck kisses me before I can finish. It's not the first time, not by a long shot but it’s still exciting. If I had my faceplate on the interface would show my elevated heart rate for the second time tonight. How many years did I spend thinking I could never have something like this? That anyone would want to kiss me, or enjoy it? And from Beck's little hum against my lips, I can tell they enjoy it. 

If my hands weren’t holding pieces of armor they’d be around them in a second but it's their weight that reminds me we're here for a reason.

“We…” I start, breaking the kiss and hating myself for it. “We do have a job to do.”

“True.” They sigh as I hand their helmet back to them. “Doesn't mean we can’t think about what to do when the job’s done.” They reaffix their helmet and suddenly it's not half as terrifying as I thought it was. 

“I have a few ideas.” The distorters drop my voice a few octaves as I reaffix the faceplate to my own helmet.

“Then let's get this done and you can tell me all about it.” They saunter past me and I’m forced to turn and follow them.  

“Count on it.” I never could let anyone else get the last word in. A bad habit, I know. As bad as daydreaming about “after” when I should focus on the mission. And I will, once the adrenaline kicks in I can focus on the fight and nothing else. But until then I just keep coming up with ideas that make me grateful my helmet hides my blush.

[synnamon-hearts]

Hii I’m back again to ask if you could please write headcannons of how UD characters would react waking up & you telling them you had a dream of them having sex & feeling needy bc of it ?? (Assuming they’re together) 🙂‍↔️

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Ooooo, okay! 👀

NSFW down below!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Josh ~ Ohhhhh God, Josh would be the biggest tease. It would also boost his ego by like 1000%. He has that much of an effect on you that you had an actual sex dream about him? Man, what a flex! And it was so good that you want him right now? He would chuckle at this, already sitting up and preparing to recreate the scene. He's really dedicated to recreating settings since he dreams of being a film producer.

"Awww, needy because you dreamed of me fucking you silly? Look at you, already soaked through your little panties. Lay back beautiful and let me do all the work. I got you."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Chris ~ The way this mf would blush omfg it would make his whole year! He actually made a girl have a sex dream so intense she's ready to go as soon as she wakes up? No fucking way. Making a girl dream about you is wild enough, let alone this! He would be jumping at the opportunity to fulfill your desires as soon as you tell him what the dream was about.

"Wait, wait, wait... You had a dream... About me? Wow... Wow... This is unbelievable. Lay back. Let me do this for you. I need to."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Mike ~ Ahhh Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike... Mike... Lmao he would be SO cocky. Even more than Josh, actually. Before you can even finish telling him about your dream, he's on top of you, already kissing your neck. He thinks he doesn't have to hear anymore, since he already knows every single thing that makes you tick.

"Shh, shh, shh. Let me take care of you, baby. You like that, yeah? Yeah? Let your big strong man make you feel good. You want that, huh? Just let me do the work, baby."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Matt ~ Matt would be the biggest sweetheart over it, chuckling fondly and planting a soft kiss to your forehead. He would listen intently, a dopey and tired smile on his face as he watches you rant away about every detail that happened in the dream. And then he would ask what specifically you would like him to do for you to make you feel as good as you felt when you were sleeping.

"Awe that's so sweet, babe. I'm even on your mind while you're dreaming, hm? Want me to do anything for you? Don't worry about it being late and me having football practice tomorrow. You come first. What do you need me to do for you?"

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Sam ~ Sam would honestly be flattered that you had a dream about her. She would hold you, rub your back, and caress your hair as you tell her about your dream. Aw, you're so sweet and worked up right now for her. How did she get so lucky. Of course, she would want to help you in any way she can.

"Aww, sweetie. You don't have to ask me twice, okay? I'm here for you. Just lay back and relax, okay? I'll make you feel better."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Ashley ~ Y-You had a sex dream??? About her??? Wow, this is something Ashley has written about in her fanfics, but never even dreamed of it happening to her. She would be blushing wildly as you talked her through what danced in your mind as you slumbered, before bashfully asking if you want to recreate the moment in real life.

"Oh... Oh wow... I've only read about this stuff before but I didn't think it could be possible. Not for me. Would you... Would you want to do this... In real life... Like... Right now? No pressure, of course!"

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Jess ~ Jess would be shocked. Like she plays it off cocky but she didn't think this would happen. She isn't all that confident in the effect she has on you, despite what she says. So to hear this boosts her ego a little bit. She wouldn't admit it to you, but it almost made her want to cry.

"You... You what? I-I mean, hell yeah! I bet I'm on that mind every night, huh? How about you just lay back and let me rock your world. I'll give you something to put you right back to sleep, baby."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Emily ~ I'm gonna be blunt, Emily would be pissed that you woke her up. How fucking dare you disturb her beauty sleep?! But to hear that it was because you were needy for her eases her frustration just by a small amount. Still, that's not gonna stop her from taking her anger out on you just a little bit in a way you crave for.

"What the fuc— Are you fucking serious? I need my fucking sle— Oh... Oh... Okay, fine. Just this once. Now lay still while I get the cuffs..."