#these just keep getting longer and longer lmao

[beatlebvm]

wet dream

summary: after a long night of intense activities, aegon targaryen falls asleep in the arms of his sweet and pretty niece visenya not knowing that in the morning there will be a surprise waiting for him.

pairing: aegon II targaryen x visenya targaryen (rhaenyra's daughter)

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: not proofread, 18+ mdni, language, smut, just filth and little fluff if you squint at the end, oral sex (m receiving), it's con — basically waking him up with head :P. ugly ending :/. ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!

author's note: this might be the last and only thing i'll ever publish in my life since i still have traumas from my wattpad era of 10 years ago lmao. i feel super insecure about this, it sounded nicer in my head but i hope you like it too!

maybe it was a dream.

such a beautiful dream — as the ones you don't want to wake up from, the ones you want to live through until the last second, the last bit. and it was so good.

too good to be true. visenya's mouth was so warm and welcoming, soft and wet just as aegon liked, and her lips moved eagerly and confidently, playing and sucking him off with the only ways she knew. aegon sighed, his hips shifted and he could already feel himself harden in his state of semi-unconsciousness, between wakefulness and a deep slumber.

her sultry gaze was fixed on him, a mischievous smirk lingered on her pretty lips and aegon just wanted to tear it away with an harsh thrust of his hips, wanted to feel her gag around his cock. but visenya just chuckled at his weak attempt to. gods, why was she so warm? why did it feel so real?

aegon shifted again, the dream was starting to get uncomfortable, his cock was rock hard and borderline painful and he couldn't bear it for any longer. plus, a strange stickiness between his legs seemed to grow and the targaryen was pretty sure that he might've spilled on his bed sheets with just that dream. a fucking dream. how embarrassing if someone found out that he wetted his bed at the modest age of twenty?

he shifted again and again, until the maddening image of visenya sucking his cock vanished in a blurry corner of aegon's mind, much to his displeasure. he could've stayed like that forever. but the discomfort and the wetness didn't leave, his cock still hard.

and the sounds too.

wet sound after wet sound, a few soft sighs and aegon was pretty sure that it wasn't just a dream anymore, and when finally sleepiness was slipping away and he was finally back into the real world, his eyes opened — visenya was there.

laying on his bed, her body still bare in all of its glory and naked from the night before when they indulged in their pleasurable and greedy company, her head dipped on to his lap. but she wasn't supposed to be there. not at that time — weak sunlight penetrated the windows of aegon's chambers, shades of orange and yellow sealed the dawn just creeping over king's landing and also aegon's full attention on the girl in front of him.

it wasn't just a dream. a wet dream. visenya was there, her lips really moving on him and the smirk on her face widened as she realized that her uncle finally awakened up. “good morning.”

good fucking morning indeed.

aegon blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes until his vision was clear just to make sure that his sweet niece was really there, and a rush of pleasure crossed through his body when visenya’s tongue teased and pressed on the slit of his dick. she shouldn’t have been there — by dawn visenya should’ve sneaked out of his chambers and gone back to her own to avoid unpleasant encounters within the halls of the red keep, unpleasant questions about her strange presence at such late hours in those corridors, or why the daughter of rhaenyra targaryen was just coming out of prince aegon’s chambers.

“w-what the fuck are you doing here?”, aegon asked, his voice low and raspy from a deep sleep which sent a shiver down visenya’s spine. but despite his harsh words, aegon wasn’t displeased by visenya’s presence, at all.

he wanted so bad to fuck that pretty face, thrust his hips up her mouth and claim her throat just like they both needed to, but aegon’s body was still heavy and stiff from his slumber — his hand found visenya’s silver hair and gripped them in a weak fist, guiding and following the motions of her head down his cock but not forcing her, jut telling her silently to not stop and continue with the superb and lovely job she was doing.

“isn’t that obvious?”, visenya teased, her voice hoarse too but holding that suggestive tone that always characterized her everytime she was in aegon’s company. her hand stroked him gently, not wanting to overwhelm him and leave him without attention as she spoke at the same time.

aegon whined, his fingers tightened around visenya’s wavy strands as he watched her mouth engulf him once again and swallowing him whole in her warmth. fuck, she was so good, too good to him. he was an asshole, and sometimes he felt he was just using her, taking advantage of her need for him — it was so wrong, sharing the bed and getting his cock wet from who aegon considered a bastard hs entire life, even if her hair were silver and her eyes of pale purple, her other features didn’t lie. but he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t pull away, even if visenya was rhaenyra’s daughter. “you shouldn’t be here.”

visenya cocked an eyebrow up, the idea of leaving didn’t even cross her mind when aegon’s protest sounded and came out of his lips more lighthearted than he wanted. he didn’t want for her to stop, she could read well the signs of his body well, no matter how weak they were: the slightest twitch of his hips, the way his hand seemed to push her head down more and more. “do you want me to stop?”

aegon didn’t reply in that moment, a moment of silence followed and only interrupted by the soft sighs and grunts leaving his lips and visenya’s mouth wet sounds. his body reacted once again, his hips weakly buckled up searching for more pleasure — which visenya didn’t give to him, and aegon couldn’t simply take it anymore. he needed her, needed that release. “n-no, fuck—”.

and his sweet niece didn’t need any more words, resuming her motions and giving aegon the good morning she planned to gift him and he was glad to take everything, feeling any resistance leave his body the moment pleasure settled in completely. not that there was some actual resistance. the farce was pathetic as much as aegon’s pretense that it was just sex between him and visenya, that there was no actual feeling growing for his favorite and only niece.

the obscene sounds of visenya’s mouth only grew louder as she doubled her efforts, her cheeks hollowed around him and the sight alone was almost enough to make aegon come on the spot — he couldn’t wait to fill that mouth with his seed, claim it and see her swallow his cum like the greedy and good girl visenya was. he shutted his eyes, and his mind was soon filled with memories of previous night, when visenya rode his cock like her life depended on it and with her pretty tits bouncing everytime their hips met, her moans echoing in the four walls of his chambers.

fuck, it couldn’t be already it… and yet visenya noticed aegon’s body tensing up, his balls tightening up under her warm palm, and she knew that in a matter of seconds and a few other gags around his cock ropes of his cum would paint her throat. and she couldn’t be more ready for it, more eager to taste him and not waste a single drop. “vis, i—”.

and just like visenya predicted, it took aegon a few moments to completely shudder and let the bliss overflow his body and mind, coming and spilling into her welcoming mouth with a single and beautiful moan that made visenya quiver too. aegon seemed to lighten, he buckled his hips up a few times, the tip of his dick kissed the back of visenya’s throat and spurts of his warm cum marked her as his, and he made sure that no drop went to waste. aegon could’ve died right in that moment and he would’ve been the happiest man in the whole world — no better awakening than that one could’ve existed and aegon couldn’t have felt better than in that moment. he was so fucking lucky to have her, he couldn’t believe it.

sadly, to aegon’s displeasure and reluctance the peak didn’t last as much as he desired and the effects of it inevitably subsided but he couldn’t help but groan again as he felt visenya’s thighs straddle his hips and her settle on top of him once again. just like last night. with a satisfied sigh and a greedy lick of her lips, visenya hid her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his torso, leaving a few sloppy and lazy kisses on the pale skin of his throat. aegon sighed too, his arms doing the same with her and let himself enjoy the warmth that her sweet embrace brought. he could’ve done that every morning and never got tired of it — fuck anybody’s suspiciousness.

a weary smile creeped on aegon’s lips as he nuzzled his nose against her soft hair, his heart swelling with content as he heard visenya chuckle lightly at his gentle tickle. his fingers caressed her kindly, with a sweetness that rarely characterized aegon and that he never showed in public, but for a reason or another, it felt right to act around visenya like that, almost unconsciously even. he brought his lips to her hair, tilting her head to kiss her forehead, eyelids, nose, cheeks and eventually her lips with chaste but sweet pecks. aegon could briefly taste himself on her soft lips and it almost spurred him on and made his cock to stiffen but he held back, wanting to savour the moment with visenya.

“good morning indeed.”

[rottenherbs]

A Couple Firsts // D.M x reader

Request: Maybe there’s an opportunity to slow dance somewhere, he puts out his hand and asks her to dance, but she is hesitant because she has never slow danced before. Maybe he can say something like “You just need a strong lead” and does just that. I just like gently taking control of the situation part, and I can see Draco doing that!

Word count: 1.5k

Author's Note: personally I did not spell check this. I am so exhausted LMAO but i had a fun time writing it. Also my requests are closed to finish the requests that are already in there! 

[masterlist]

Much love, Saige 

———————

You and Draco had been together for a short period, each day full of firsts with each other. First time alone at hogsmeade together. First breakfast in bed together. First late night in each other's dorms. First time sneaking out of class and kissing in the hall, unable to be away from each other for long periods of time. 

It felt like a dream with him. You were love struck, the idea of having someone to kiss, someone to hold, someone to talk to about anything. Your fears, your dreams, your passions. It was such an emotional outlet for both of you. The only thing was that Draco was your first boyfriend, you weren’t particularly his first girlfriend. 

That didn’t bother you; you were not the jealous type at all. Draco made sure to keep you secure in his love, his devotion to JUST you. It only was worrisome to yourself when those firsts happened and you had never done them before. 

The Yule ball was announced at the beginning of the year, happily taking the opportunity to flaunt his girl, Draco asked you extravagantly at the great hall. Balloons, a large bouquet, and little doves flying around. It was a little much, but you knew it came from his desire of flaunting wealth. Your Yule ball invite was definitely the biggest around and created a little hysteria. It wasn't his best trait but you couldn't help but feel special. 

The ball came closer and the preparation was more than you could’ve thought of. Draco's mother sent over a letter of your measurements and what colors you both were wearing in order to put in a custom gown with her personal tailor. You and the girls in your dorm did your nails together and helped each other with your hair. It was such a nice bonding moment for you all, happy to gawk and talk of who was taking who to the dance. 

As the moments passed, small butterflies began to swarm in your stomach, growing with each thought of the night. You had no clue where Draco was, if he was ready already, if he was as nervous as you were. You couldn't help but blush at the idea of such a romantic night.

Taking a final look in the mirror, you press down your dress, its amber beads shining off of the overhead lights, glimmering against your skin. 

I’m ready -  you thought to yourself, accepting that there was nothing to change, improve, or procrastinate with any longer. The time was ticking and you had to get out the door. Walking down the steps of your dormitory, your eyes scanned across the dimly lit common room, slytherin students paired up and mingling together. 

You got to the bottom of the stairs, still unable to find your boyfriend before a strong pair of hands snuck their way around your waist, guiding you to a corner of the room.

”Don't you look ravishing.” Draco mumbled, his hands still firmly placed on your hips. He looked you up and down, placing a long soft kiss on your forehand. 

“You look pretty nice, all cleaned up.” You joked, brushing off fake crumbs from his lapel. He rolled his eyes playfully, his name being called from across the room directed his attention. 

“Oy, im busy!” His hand enveloped yours, shouting back across the room. He swatted the air, dismissing the student before turning back to you.

”Shall we?” He purred, extending his hand towards the door. 

“We shall.” You replied, smiling up at him. You both walked across the floor, Draco getting attention from almost anyone he passed, ignoring them completely and ushering you through the door. 

You walked together in silence, bodies as close as possible to each other, traversing up several flights of stairs together, audibly out of breath once you both arrived at the great hall, making eachother laugh with whatever lung capacity you both had left. 

Being fashionably late, you were both able to slip into the dance after the ceremony, the music already blaring. Looking into Draco eyes you smiled, pulling him quickly onto the dance floor, his body loosely following you. 

The night flowed easily, the songs upbeat and tiring you both after a while. Slightly sweaty and out of breath, you both left the dance floor, itching for a break. Guiding you to an empty table, pulling out a chair for you. Taking a seat, Draco held your hand, leaning in to your ear to make sure you could hear over the noise.

”I’m going to get a drink for us darling. Stay here. If anyone bothers you ill be back in just a minute.” He kissed your cheek, turning away and falling back around the large crowd of students. The music was deafening, unable to hear much of anything except the live band at the front of the stage. 

You couldn't help but people watch, many students not being familiar to you. Tall boys and girls jumped to the beat of the music, different types of wizards and witches all together. You felt like the school house rivelty was on break, everyone’s colors now meshed into one. Over to the right of the stage was a few professors, awkwardly bounding on their heels to the music, watching the students like hawks. 

Like on que, you looked around for Draco, his bright glossy hair peeking out from the corner coming back to you, his hands holding two chalaces of punch, smiling from ear to ear. 

“I hope you didn’t get lonesome.” He shouted, placing down the cup in front of you, its glittery contents swishing around invitingly. You picked it up, taking a large gulp, the icy drink flowing down your throat and cooling you immediately. 

“Thank you” You mouthed to Draco, unwilling to shout across the music. He smiled, taking a sip from his own cup, his eyes not leaving your face. The music slowly died out, the students in the crowd hooping and hollering with excitement. It had to have been around 9pm, wishing for the night to slow and more of a relaxing song to play to change the pace. 

Like you wished, a small violin began cascading around the great hall, its slow song pushing some students out of the crowd and inviting in many who have been waiting all night. Draco set his cup down, grabbing your hand quickly, happy for the opportunity to hold you close. Nerves hit your stomach as he grabbed you, suddenly realizing you’ve never slow danced, the steps more intricate, more thoughtful. You were clumsy and cranky, perfect for a large group setting, but the lack of students on the floor really opened up for scrutinization and attention. 

Draco tugged lightly, pouting down at you.

”I’m… nervous.” You mouth up to him, his eyes soften, pulling you up from your chair. Relectetly you followed, knowing you would kill to have had your first slow dance, but the act grew an ache in your stomach. 

Finding a place on the floor, Draco directed your hands to his body, pulling you close, his head now next to yours. 

“Let me lead.” He whispered sultry into your ear, the hair on your neck standing up, happily shielding your warming cheeks with your hair, setting your chin on his chest. The song picked up slightly, Draco’s feet pulling and encouraging you to follow, only stumbling a few times before catching onto the pattern. 

“Left, right, left.” He’d whisper every once in a while, noticing your concentration. 

You realized after a while you weren’t thinking about anyone else, just you and Draco. No matter what would be said about you tripping, or how weirdly you danced, you'd only remember this moment. How he held you tightly and brought you around the floor easily. 

The song ended, but started another slow song. Now more confident in your abilities, you leaned back and smiled at Draco, your eyes sparkling under the hanging icicles above. He leaned down, kissing you passionately as the song swelled. Your feet moved in small spurts, but your lips did not part from each other. You both attempted to hold each other for as long as possible, knowing any moment you'd be interrupted. 

“MALFOY” Professor Mcgonagall shouted, immediately breaking the kiss purely out of fear. She was still in the corner, but her squinting eyes made you both cower slightly, your head hitting his chest laughing deeply into it. 

“First time getting caught kissing eh?” He laughed 

[red-doll-face]

Imagine reader playing with Arthur's hair while he grumbles and pretends he's not totally into it >>>>>>>>😭🙏 But when you actually stop he's like 😳😞

that sounds so cute, i would love to run my fingers through his hair!!! 💖💖💖🥹🥹🥹 i wanted to do something short but writing for arthur always seems to run away from me, idkkk whyyyy i can never do anything bite sized with this man i stg. 😔😳😭😭😭 idk i guess small just doesnt cut it when it comes to this man 😏 i sort of took this as a request so i hope im not doing too much LMAO beware: sweetie weenie boy arthur...veryyyy fluffffy

Arthur doesn't like his hair as long as you like it but he can put it aside for you.

(high honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. reader

You had always thought Arthur’s hair looked nice, just a little bit longer than he preferred. Ok, maybe a lot longer than he preferred it but you couldn't help but like the way the strands fell in his pretty blue eyes, watching his big hands and fingers push it back over his head. His little frustrated huff when it inevitably slips back to feathering over the sides of his face was all too cute. You liked the way the sun caught the more blond strands; turned them a bright gold. You know the big scary outlaw, Arthur Morgan would never use the word beautiful to describe himself but you could use that word for him every day of every week.

And he doesn't always intend to grow it as long as he does, he runs out of time to get anything done about it, much preferring to return to your little corner of camp to rest with you sooner than stop in town. He’d rather come back to you, to get to lay his eyes on you than to spend another moment away from the sweet kiss you give him when he rejoins you.

 Of course, he was as strong as a draft horse. Arthur could handle just about anything thrown at him. But Dutch had a way of running him ragged. When it wasn’t Dutch, it was the other camp members and when it wasn’t them, it was himself. The pressure to be everywhere, to do everything; it crushed his shoulders down. You did what you could to help. It's why you so thoroughly enjoyed these quiet moments, just you and him in the cool evenings. 

“...Look at all this. Honey, I need a goddamned haircut,” he’d say, standing in front of the little mirror where he shaved his scruff after it grew too bushy. You sit on his bed, pouting at him. He stands with his hands gripping the edge of the barrel, turning to the left and the right. The way his hair bounced around made you giggle. 

“But-” 

“Yeah, you like it, I remember,” He sighs.

“I do, Arthur. I just think you look very handsome with your hair like that,” You look at his hair and then your eyes wander to his strong forearms gripping the lip of the barrel. You had found Arthur to be eye-catching the day that you met him. And his personality only bolstered how much you liked him. He could play at gruff simpleton brute but he had more sense and wit than most of the other men combined. He was more soft than he wanted to admit too, but he showed those pieces of himself to you. His vulnerabilities he liked to keep to himself; now he shares with you. 

“Right. You keep on tellin’ your beautiful lies; I might just start believin’ you,” He chuckles at the word ‘handsome’. You make a face at his self deprecating attitude. How he makes jokes of himself to keep his insecurities from seeming like they're bigger than they are. But the corners of his mouth always tug downwards when he’s looking in the mirror, even when he only intended to look at his hair or at his beard. 

“Arthur, I’m not lying. Come here?” You’re more siren-like than you realize; your beckon makes him turn, huffing a little. As if he knows he’s in some degree of trouble. The little disappointed frown you have is something he can’t help but look away from. Arthur leans away from the barrel and steps closer to you. He reaches for his hat that sits on the table at his bedside but you stop him, a gentle hand over the top of his. 

Your hand tugs him closer and he allows you to guide him. You squeeze his palm, those hard working hands, rough from all that he does with them.

He lets himself relax, which he rarely does, he’s always doing something or on his way there. But you love to hold him in your arms. To make him stay still with you for awhile.

He sits and the sweet kiss he gives you makes you light up. But you motion to have him lay over you while you play with his hair, even if you can tell he wants to keep giving you kisses. His head is in your lap while he uses your plush thighs as pillows. He’s a bit stiff, as if unwillingly and begrudgingly doing as you say. His brow still crinkles a bit, some of the lines on his face from pulling grimaces are creased. You lift the strands upwards to marvel at how long they are. 

“Too damn long,” 

“No, never,” you coo at him through his faux displeasure.

“Never? You’re kiddin’ me, sweetheart. Only you could want a man with hair down to his ass,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. You miss how he softens even more at your laugh, he liked that you found his jokes funny or at the very least, silly enough to warrant such a reaction.

“Ok, ok, you can get it cut, but maybe not so short on the sides? I like when it’s long here,” You look down at his eyes, petting the loose locks he usually wants to cut a bit shorter to keep hair off of his neck. 

“I’ll think on it; it’s still on my head, ain’t it?”

You giggle humming contentedly as you continue rubbing his hair in your fingers. He relaxes more even as he continues to murmur about how much he can’t wait to watch it all get chopped off at the barber in town. You shake your head, feeling him go soft from his usual intensity. 

Your nails lightly scratch against his scalp, your fingers pet his hair this way and that. Then you transition to what you know he likes, a repetitive soothing motion through the locks of his hair. The way the small furrow just over his nose bridge flattens out makes you smile. You can see his hands stop fussing, his lungs fill with a deep breath and puff it out slowly. He props one leg over his bed and the other hangs down to the floor. And he might grumble but those turn into simple rumbles of soft pleasure. You watch the tension leak from him, his usual stiffness weakening.

You’re pretty sure you can lull him to sleep like this, the rhythmic stroking over his hair and scalp like a lullaby. You comb his hair backwards, his thick hair is tangled in some places and you help work through it gently. When you feel you’ve perhaps messed with his hair enough, you remove your hands. One of his eyes slips open from where he had both closed in a sleepy gesture; revealing that gem toned hue. He looks grumpier than when you started, perhaps a little disgruntled. 

“What?” you ask, knowing he misses the sensation of your fingers fiddling around in his hair. “Thought you didn’t like me ruffling your feathers,” you tousle it a little. The teasing in your voice is prominent when you smile down at his small scowl, no real bite behind his bark. 

He seems to flush a little bit, you can appreciate the way his blushes crawl up his face, he can never hide how you make him feel. His artificial glare melts away. 

“It should be you, I guess- ya know, rufflin’ my feathers,” his sentimental tone brings him out of his element, showing his nerves around you. Not so steadfast now. You smile warmly and shyly as well, touched by his genuine feelings, the ones he told you just as bashfully that he harbored for you.

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE CAN DO NO WRONG 😍💓🫂😭😳🥰 thank you for reading !!

[midnight-mourning]

Reblogging this as it's gotten some updates based on my recent posts :)

Midnight-Mourning Writing Masterpost

Realized my intro was getting kind of crowded, SO, decided to move all my writing links to here, along with a little bit of yapping. Enjoy!

He's a Little Confused But He's Got the Spirit (updates WILL be weekly when I finish fighting off this sinus infection)

My current main project, a five-arc, multi-chapter fic that follows an engineer Reader just trying to survive adulthood, taking care of their siblings, and anything else that comes their way. That includes the Daycare Attendant.

Reader uses she/they pronouns, and Sun & Moon are not considered siblings or lovers, but a secret third thing (read and find out what lol)

This is a slow-burn, sfw fic, but all other tags and content warnings can be found in the fic, additionally there are spoiler present in the chapter titles and in the comments of this fic, just a heads up

Status: In-Progress, currently in Arc 3

Word Count: 203,263 (Currently)

General fic things:

Anything related to Confused Spirit is tagged as #Confused Spirit on my blog

If you would like to be included on the tag list for Confused Spirit updates, or just for when I post writing, you can message me, or reply in some way to this post

Writing requests are tagged under #writing requests

I am currently am not taking requests, requests will open again in Feburary for Valentine's however, so be on the lookout for a post regarding that ^^

General rules are no nsfw (suggestive content is fine), and if you want something specific in your request, be specific, otherwise it's free-range

Happy Birthday!

Series of drabbles I made from Reveal-Day requests, each consisting of 250-500 words

Reader is gender-neutral, Sun & Moon are not siblings or lovers, all fics can be considered sfw

Some drabbles may relate to Confused Spirit, and may or may not be considered canon

You can browse the tag #reveal day drabbles OR read them on Ao3 using the above link

Status: Complete!

Word Count: 1,949

Better Strangers. (Unless?)

One shot I made for a milestone celebration! Takes place in the CS universe, is canon, but will never be mentioned in the fic itself

I highly suggest reading Confused Spirit to some extent before reading this as a lot of references won't be understood otherwise lol

Much like Confused Spirit, reader uses she/they pronouns, Sun & Moon are not siblings or lovers

This is a sfw, stand-alone fic, if you would perfer to read it on Ao3 you can do so with this link

Status: Complete!

Word Count: 7,500

RESTART

My submission for an angst event! Based on the storyline presented in my Promptober Day 29 response. You do not have to read it to understand this, but you can if you'd like ^-^

Reader is gender-neutral, Sun & Moon are not siblings or lovers

This is a sfw, stand-alone fic, if you would perfer to read it on Ao3 you can do so with this link

Status: Complete!

Word Count: 2,998

🎃Halloween-Based fics🎃:

Dead Ringer

My Secret Skeleton for 2024!

Takes place in the Sleuth Jesters au, with a bit of a spooky twist

All characters are based on their SJ! characterizations, with the original au of course belonging to @/NaffEclipse and @/sunnys-aesthetic respectively

This is a stand-alone, sfw fic, but all other tags and content warnings can be found in the fic

Status: Complete!

Word Count: 8,313

Promptober Masterlist

A masterlist with links to all of my promptober responses, credit to @/bluerasbunny for the prompts!

Each of these fics is angsty, suggestive, or horror-filled (or all three) in some way, content warnings are provided at the beginning of each work, reader is gender-neutral

Day 31 in particular is the grand finale, sitting as a 6K oneshot related in part to Confused Spirit (may or may not be considered canon)

The masterlist contains an ao3 link, with all the prompt responses that have been reviewed/edited for mistakes.

All prompt responses can be read as stand-alone, but there are some continous storylines/overlap between some, generally considered sfw but reader descretion is advised while reading

Status: Complete!

Word Count: 35,972

Borrowed Time

A 'part-two' in a way to Day 31 of promptober, it is essentially a bonus one-shot based also in Confused Spirit (may or may not be considered canon)

It is HIGHLY SUGGESTED to read Day 31 of Promptober before reading this, it will be less impactful/make less sense otherwise

Much like Confused Spirit, reader uses she/they pronouns, Sun & Moon are not siblings or lovers

This is a sfw, stand-alone fic, if you would perfer to read it on Ao3 you can do so with this link

Status: Complete!

Word Count: 5,511

❄️Holiday/Christmas-Based fics❄️:

Midnight's DCA December

Series of requests I'm working on for December! Will reupload to ao3 when I have time

Consists of multiple different drabble-like posts featuring mainly the dca x reader in some regard

Each piece is about 1000-2000 words in length give or take a few 😅

All of these can be read as stand-alone, save for Day 7 which is being continued as a full fic! (see below)

All of these works are sfw, and unless stated otherwise Sun & Moon are not siblings or lovers

Status: Complete!

Word Count: Still Counting ^-^

He’s a Little Confused but He's Got the Holiday Spirit

an au of an au lmao, utilizes the same characters and personalities as those for Confused Spirit, but in a holiday setting with a different (though similar) story

Will consist of 7 total chapters including the prologue which is Day 7!

Reader uses she/they pronouns, and Sun & Moon are not considered siblings or lovers

This is a sfw, stand-alone fic, which will be uploaded simultaneously on ao3 when I get the chance

All information regarding this fic/au can be found in this info post here along with links to chapters as they're posted

Status: In-Progress

Word Count: Still Counting ^-^

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Greetings, Father! I just wanted to come by to say I've been reading some of your fics again and 🤌 as always, I am blown away by how good it is. Genuinely, reading them always refresh my mind in some ways (?) cuz it's interesting and the dynamic and flow you do is just so vast and yet so very you.

I do have a question and you're free to answer this ask privately or dm or not, I don't mind xD I am curious on your thought process whenever you write smutty fics, what are the things you fuss over? or what are some things you do to keep the vibes going. For me personally, I don't write a lot of spicy stuff but when I do it's hard for me to really capture the raw need and intimacy a lot of the time (not to mention I have this issue where I like writing the buildup and tension than the actual intercourse part LMAO)

Have a good day/night ahead! o7 I've got a few things I wanna draw from your posts so stay tune too hehe :3

Your tags are always amazing; I wake up and read them over my morning coffee and eggs. So good when other fans of the same skrunkly arseholes love your work about said skrunkly arseholes.

Also, your writing is bloody brilliant. Like, the thing you wrote for Nekro? Blew my brain out. It was gorgeous.

As for the smut...

I use personal experience and what I focus on. I find human bodies very fuckin' sexy, even the bits that other people might think are gross (or they might be embarrassed by). The bits they get coy/shy about me touching, the most intimate parts of them. Yeah those are what I want and they're going in my mouth. Admiring all their unique bits, their freckles, the pattern of their hair, the scars and the stretch marks, their curves and bumps. Arousal, for me, should be represented as similar to hunger; instinctual. Because that's how it processes for me.

If you like the build up, then focusing on the sweet relief of it, the dirty talk - "finally got what you need, baby? does that feel good?" - and how that intimacy of being inside someone (or having them inside you), feeling their heartbeat, listening to their little moans, feeling them tense up involuntarily and wiggle cause it feels so good, watching their bodies give or flex into your hands.

I say "you" here. I can't write x reader, but... ya get the idea.

Write one character like they're starving and tucking into a buffet, I guess?

I have varying levels of "hunger" on the dial. I don't tend to get as visceral in longer works because of the "flow" of the narrative. Like, 15k of narrative and then a sudden 7k of one character gobbing on another's dick would be funny and jarring, but, eh.

[stedesparasol]

Made Up Fic Title: Table for Two

Ed is sitting in his favourite diner in the middle of nowhere when a rather dishevelled looking man walks through the door, looking around a bit desperately for somewhere to sit.  His suit is all rumpled, his hair is a mess, he looks like he’s been crying.  There aren’t any free tables, but Ed is taking up a whole booth by himself, so he isn’t surprised when the man comes over and asks if he can sit opposite, really, he won’t be a bother.  Usually this is the point where Ed would say nah sorry mate, waiting for some friends (he definitely isn’t) but this guy… intrigues him.  So he nods, and the man flops down into the booth.

When the waitress comes over, he orders nothing but a black coffee, but if you asked Ed, he’d say the guy was already jittery enough.  ‘Maybe get some food to go with that,’ he suggests.  Not that he, y’know, cares what this guy does, but if he’s gonna be hitting the road again soon, probably for the best he has something in his body other than caffeine, or whatever.  The dishevelled man looks at him like he can’t believe somebody actually cares about his food intake (seriously, his eyes got all watery and everything) and orders a sandwich.  Ed gets the feeling there’s definitely something weird going on with this guy.  Maybe he’s having a breakdown.  Maybe he’s just killed someone.  Whatever it is, Ed probably shouldn’t get involved.

‘So,’ he says anyway, once the waitress has walked away, ‘what brings you to the middle of nowhere?’

‘Oh, I’m running away from home,’ the man replies.

It takes Ed a minute to process this, given that the man is very clearly in his 40s, and that’s a strange thing for a man in his 40s to be doing.  But then the man – whose name is Stede, it turns out, Stede Bonnet, former vice president of Bonnet Industries, you may have heard of it – informs him that his father has just taken him out of the company and given his position to his childhood (and workplace) bully Nigel, and when Stede left to go home and break the news to his wife, he found her in bed with her painting instructor.

‘Obviously I’m not wanted by anybody,’ he says around a bite of his sandwich that arrived two minutes ago, ‘so I just got straight in the car and drove away.  No idea where I’m headed.  No idea where I even am, and the car’s out of gas, which isn’t ideal.  And I didn’t pack, which I’m starting to regret, because this suit isn’t really suited (pardon the pun) for a road trip, but I’m going to have to make do until I pass a good clothing store.  Although I don’t know how I’m going to do that when I’m stuck with a car that won’t move.’

And Ed really shouldn’t get any more involved in this – it sounds like the poor guy’s had a hell of a morning and is probably making some extremely rash decisions which he’s going to regret by tomorrow and is almost definitely going to start crying again in a minute – but on the other hand, it’s the most interesting thing to happen to him in ages.  ‘I know a good clothing store,’ he finds himself saying.

Stede looks up at him.  ‘You do?’

Ed nods, nudging his plate towards him.  ‘Finish your sandwich and I’ll drive you there.’

As of right now, Ed really doesn’t know whether he’s gonna end up driving this guy to a clothing store, a motel, or back home to hash things out with his wife, but what he does know is that he’s weirdly glad he let this bizarre little man take a seat at his table.

send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it ✌️

[choccy-milky]

the place me and my roommate were supposed to move into today was so disgusting and uninhabitable we just took our stuff and left and now we're gonna be staying at airbnbs and hotels until further notice/until we can find a new place hopefully quickly...........im in my homeless drifter era y'all!!!😍😍so if im not as active then thats why LMFAO

1 like = 1 prayer

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

HEHEHE SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT<333 LOVED THESE NOTES SO MUCH I JUST KEEP REREADING THEM AND GIGGLING

I have some note of my own to share!! which is why this response took a bit (sorry about the dark screenshots I'm writing this in the dark at 3 am)

first off, yes I indeed reached into your mind to channel the vibes I put into this fic.

no fr though this was such a fun fic to write from my perspective as someone who has moved about 10-ish times in my life and who will surely move again. I dug into my own memories of moving out of the places I lived the longest just for this. that whole first section was inspired by the time I moved from living in my grandparents big house with tons of cousins and family, to suddenly being basically alone with my mom who was barely home. tashiro really dragged out those feelings I had and made them his own lol.

haha. yeah. to add onto this: there was a version of the draft with hanzawa haunting the narrative like this in like half the scenes. little tid-bits and mentions of his activities. but in the end that concept didn't stick bc I wanted the main focus to be on shirashiro

i wrote this while hanging out with a friend and she said they sounded quote "really fucking married" so it's nice to see that wasn't just her saying things lmao

this whole section was a fun one. the scrunchie is a bit I added after a very heated debate with myself over whether I wanted longer haired tashiro or if I wanted to have a scene of them cutting his hair. as you could probably tell I chose the longer hair

the gag gifts are in tashiro's room. while they didn't decorate much of the main sections of the apartment, their rooms are basically full of all the stuff from their old houses. he keeps the pots on his window sill and later down the line adopts some lovely little fake plants from a guy on the side of the road that turn out to be real plants. he lets shirahama name them.

the soup is a silly story. if I'm ever inclined to do a follow up to this I'd write it out fully. basically it's from ogasawara to tashiro, but he gave it to shirahama in a really awkward interaction and then sasaki mocked him for it. not pictured in that part is that miyano brought sasaki to help lift the couch, who brought oga because free labor, who brought soup because hid family said to bring a housewarming gift and he thought 'soup is warm'. some other shenanigans occur including hanzawa that we wont get into. its a fun time.

and on another personal note, the soup is inspired by my first meal in my current apartment. ive posted about it before, but my current move was an absolute disaster of legal bullshit and ridiculous time crunches that almost left me homeless. and during that time, there wasn't really a chance to think about food. it was a mad dash to move apartments in 12 hours that by some miracle worked out. so when I finally had the chance to breathe, I realized I A: had no food and B: was too tired to go get some. thankfully, my aunt stopped by during the chaos and left some surprise soup for me, and i warmed it up and ate it out of a pot with a ladle bc I couldn't find bowls or spoons. it was vegan soup and it tasted like freedom

thank you for drawing my vision and adding to it. this is so wonderful... fun fact: the headband is tashiro's. there's a deleted scene of him taking it and giving that explanation and some other things happened but it didn't feel right so it didn't make the cut. that face mask is so fun tho I love it

[rubbing my hands together] muahahaha yessss!!! the implications!!!!!

my exact feelings writing that scene

hilarious that you spotted that, it was in fact a sunnnfish reference! it actually said sunfish before but it felt too on the nose lol

this bit haunted me for a while because I couldn't figure out an animal that fully captured my vision of him. then I visited a museum and saw a hare and went "oh shit. shirahama."

Yeagh.....

i know what I wrote and it was on purpose but also in my heart they are always seated at a circular table that wobbles every time one of them leans on it and they take turns standing dramatically from it and watching it teeter

yeahhh he's grown so much!!! he's older and not much wiser and he still!! plays!!! ping pong!!!!!

another deleted scene included them playing a game that they got married in for tax (loot) benefits but I sadly let it go because it was focused around a plot line I abandoned for atmosphere purposes

here lies sunny, died from a lethal dosage of shirashiro jajsjsj

no but seriously this part was especially fun to write. I want to note in that second to last paragraph that the way he did that was on purpose very odd. he could've used just his hand to clean it off, or a paper towel, or just told shirahama and had him wash it off himself. but he didn't. it was also a very sudden full body turn. why did he do all that <-knows why

and the ponytail tashiro drawing!!!! cups him in my palms

if there were ever a b-side to this from shirahama's pov, it would mostly just be composed of a million "oh. oh." moments on loop

this whole project was a lot of fun for me mostly just from an editing standpoint. i had so much time to change and adjust scenes to make them work how i wanted. and all that left me with tons of deleted scenes and ideas i can reuse later which is awesome. thank you so much for the awesome prompt and lovely notes<333

@sunnfish okay Take Two!!! hello sunny sunnfish you wonderful sea creature! I was your secret santa for the @ssmygiftexchange! so sorry for the delay on this, my scheduled post was taken by the tumblr void and I wasn't home with my laptop to remake this post haha.

Your prompt was shirashiro college roommates au and prev pres, hanzawa, and tashiro hang out!! hope i was able to do this justice, this is officially the longest oneshot ive posted :)

Now with an Ao3 version, i would recommend reading there because Tumblr messed up some of my formatting and I can't fix it right now ^_^

Summary:

Tashiro and Shirahama are college roommates. It's a relatively peaceful life.

A non-linear story written for the sasamiya & hirakagi winter gift exchange!

As it turns out, moving in with a guy that you’ve known for almost half your life is pretty unremarkable.

Maybe it has something to do with being too familiar with each other. There have been too many sleepovers for the sound of snores to phase him, too many gym classes for the sight of skin to fluster him, too much time for anything to feel awkward between them. And yet…

And yet.

Packing your whole life into boxes is pretty hard, as it turns out. Looking around his room now it seems hard to imagine how it’ll feel to see the whole place emptied out. Cleared of every reminder of himself.

Tashiro tries not to think about it so hard as he turns back towards the closet. He’s never felt the need to go through everything he had stuffed in there until now, remnants of the past mixing with comforts of the present.

He reaches out to grab one of the hangers, pulling it free. His ping-pong jacket, he thinks despairingly, is slowly becoming small on him. His name spelled across the back in white lettering brings him back to when he first noticed. The growth spurts he’s been having refuse to slow even for a moment, and though he likes that some days, it mainly makes him face annoying things like this.

If he leaves the jacket, it will probably be packed up and put away somewhere to be forgotten. He can picture it now, sitting in a box stuffed away as it slowly fades from his memory. It makes him feel sort of heavy. But, if he takes it with him, he’s not sure it would be much better in the long run. Just holding it in his hands reminds him of how much time has passed. Of how fast it will keep passing.

He stands there, gears turning haphazardly in his mind, as he tries to breathe it all in.

Then, a knock.

His eyes dart to his doorway in surprise– knowing none of his family was home right now– only to remember that he’d invited the others to help him out.

Shirahama stands in front of him, knuckles resting against the already ajar door. His slightly bored face and tellingly awkward posture show that he hadn’t expected to be the first to arrive.

“Is your doorbell broken?” He asks as his socked feet pad their way into the room. “I tried using it, for once, but from that look I guess you didn’t hear.”

Tashiro finds himself a little amused by this, as he knows for a fact Shirahama has his own key. Perks of coming over to play games most weekends out of the year. He remembers them making jokes about going into each other's fridges while no one was home when they traded keys.

“Nah, guess I was just distracted,” He says with a casual shrug, placing the jacket back in the closet.

Shirahama gives him a questioning look. “I thought you were moving out, not back in.” His friend jokes as he passes Tashiro, grabbing a couple of shirts from the closet alongside the jacket.

He feels his eyebrow twitch in a way that reminds him a little of Hanzawa; and what a scary thought that is.

“I’m feeling indecisive.” He says, his mouth twisting to match how the word makes him feel. All twisted up and confused.

Shirahama turns to the side to face him, having stacked more clothes into his arms that look to be on the verge of falling to the floor. “About what? If you should take your whole house with you?”

That jacket. If I should re-dye my hair. Growing up. You. The future.

“What if we paint all the walls yellow?” He says instead of the hundreds of things his racing mind pushes forward.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Shirahama responds resolutely, his eyes showing no room for argument. Not that Tashiro will let that stop him.

“Or maybe green? Something bright.” He continues on, stepping away from his thoughts to grab the jacket out of the teetering pile and place it to the side. “Actually, scratch that, blue would be great too.”

Shirahama gives him a withering look that has no effect on his enthusiasm. Now that he’s thinking about it, the fact that he isn’t going to make these kinds of decisions on his own anymore is pretty fun. He’ll have a roommate, a friend to work through his troubles with. The thought makes him feel lighter.

“Hey, d’you still want this?” Shirahama asks some time later, long after Kuresawa and Miyano have come and gone. Tashiro looks up from the stack of boxes he’d just finished labeling.

“Oh, yeah I almost forgot!” He says as he takes his jacket, tying it around his waist for safekeeping. He really hopes he didn’t overestimate how much closet space he has.

It’s only a few hours after the final box has been unloaded and the moving van is hauled off when Tashiro makes a chilling discovery.

“Dude, we have no food.” He says, eyes staring at the bleak emptiness of their new fridge.

“Yup,” Shirahama responds as he walks up beside him, handing Tashiro a scrunchie in a sort of placating manner.

Tashiro’s shoulders droop with the weight of his exhaustion. Moving was one of the most tiring things he’s ever done, and coming from him that’s saying something.

Turning away from the depressing artificial fridge lighting, Tashiro turns toward the kitchen counter behind him and grabs his keys. As wrecked as he might feel, the growls of his stomach refuse to be ignored. “I’ll go buy something quick,” He says.

“Ah- wait, I have an idea,” Shirahama says suddenly. Back straightening, he moves away from the fridge of doom over to a bag of housewarming gifts the others had left. It was mostly a small array of gag gifts, little plant pots shaped like ping pong balls and a lampshade shaped like a pudding cup, but in a small container alongside the rest was something else. A saving grace for the hungry:

A tub of butter.

Tashiro looks at it in confusion, asking if his friend was really that hungry.

Shirahama smirks, “With food, no container is ever as it seems.”

He opens the tub’s lid, revealing its contents. Inside is not butter, but a large frozen serving of chicken soup. Tashiro feels his jaw drop as he gasps in disbelief.

Quickly shaking himself of his shock, Tashiro grins brightly. He takes the soup and stuffs it into the microwave, but Shirahama stops him from starting the timer.

“Y’know it would taste better if you put it in a pot instead.” Shirahama says, his hand gently clasped around Tashiro’s wrist in a way that he chooses not to internalize. His fingers are a little cold.

“But it’s already cooked.”

“So? You can still warm it up in the pot. Plus it’ll make it taste closer to how it’s supposed to.” Shirahama retorts, opening the microwave and placing the tub on the counter as he goes to try and find a pot in the sea of boxes.

Tashiro stays behind as he thinks. He hadn’t ever had a reason to go so far out of his way to warm up food before. He feels himself smile a bit, the first change he’ll have to get used to in this new life.

As it turns out, keeping a relatively small apartment clean is a little difficult when you’re living on your own as two messy 18 year olds.

They tried the whole chore chart thing at first, Shirahama said he used to have one at his parent’s house and it worked fine. But, well, it’s a little different when it’s just them.

The dishes are stood in a precarious stack, plates and glasses towering in ways gravity should never allow. Tashiro faces his task with a body radiating reluctance.

He’s been busy the entire week. Classes and work keep him out of the house, and even when he is home he prefers to spend time relaxing or hanging out with Shirahama. He had forgotten about his chore, and now it’s become a problem.

Carefully reaching towards the tower, he grabs the cups first and goes for the sponge right as Shirahama walks out from his room.

He has his hair held back by a headband, because my bangs are a nightmare right now, he’d explained the other day.

He walks towards the kitchen and looks at Tashiro, who has begun to work through the dishes.

“…Need any help?” He asks as he reaches toward the kitchen cabinet, pulling out the chips he’d come for.

“Oh, no I’m good,” Tashiro responds, though the overwhelmed look in his eyes doesn’t match his words.

Hm. Shirahama puts his chips down on the counter, turning towards the sink and stepping up beside his friend. “I’ll dry and you wash, okay?” He says with a smile.

Tashiro blinks at him for a moment, lips parted in an ‘o’, before he nods and sends back a smile of his own.

They make it through everything eventually, though not without some effort and accidental water sprays. They decide afterwards to just do the dishes together, just to save them time.

There's this strange sensation that comes for him one day. The apartment is dark, the steady hum of the aircon welcoming him home, and immediately something feels amiss.

Tashiro kicks off his shoes, only to turn back around and place them carefully on the shoe rack. He always forgets that it’s something he should worry about now. Keeping his home in order was never really a big deal before, it was usually only him spending time there anyways.

Passing through the short hallway, his eyes catch on a small black and red container. He looks around suspiciously, but finds no sign of Shirahama. Crossing the creaky floorboards, he inspects the tupperware and finds a green sticky note pressed onto the lid.

Went to a mixer.

Put this in a pot and try eating real food for once

Tashiro blinks away his shock. His eyes trace over the words on the note. Again, then again.

Thump

Thump

Thump

His hands warm the plastic as he goes to hold it, and a smile breaks out across his face. He’ll have to say thanks later.

Placing his food back onto the counter, he turns to go change. He feels anticipation swirl around inside of him, and even without tasting the soup, Tashiro feels warm.

Tashiro finds out in the second month of living with his best friend that they’re maybe not the best at making their place livable.

“How have you guys been living like this?” Miyano asks, part judging and part concerned. They’re standing in the living room, which consists of a couch, a tv, and a shelf balanced on two boxes that they use as a coffee table. The tv sits on the floor with a console, video game cases stacked beside it.

It’s not like they haven’t talked about decorating. They joked about it before moving, and made plans about what they wanted to do. The plans just… didn’t end up happening.

At some point between the exhausting move-in and the rush of classes starting up, decorating didn’t feel like that urgent of a thing.

But now classes have been in session for a while, and they still haven’t bothered with it.

The click of Kuresawa’s camera bounces off the empty walls. “A total bachelor pad,” he says, sounding just to the left of impressed. “My girlfriend was wondering what it looks like when two college guys live together.”

Tashiro groans at that, knowing that another classing girlfriend ramble is on its way.

“We live just fine,” Shirahama says, and as if on cue the boxes fold into themselves, sending the shelf clattering to the floor. Right.

They decide to go furniture shopping, just to make sure that they don’t have to deal with any more Looks from Miyano or paparazzi from Kuresawa.

Tashiro suppresses a laugh, pointing towards a table with odd looking fish for legs, “We need that.” Shirahama laughs along with him, but shakes his head.

“We have a budget, we’re only getting what we absolutely need.” He reminds Tashiro. His eyes turn towards a yellow and white coffee table that is practically calling for him. He turns away.

Tashiro salutes him, and doesn’t retaliate when Shirahama gives him a playful shove in response. He turns around and walks towards a different part of the store, twisting strands of his hair between his fingers as he goes. He really needs to touch up his roots.

Spotting something on a shelf, he picks it up. It’s a decorative statue, a silver painted hare taking a nap. He smirks and turns around, walking back to Shirahama. “Hey, look, I found you…” he starts to say before trailing off, eyes focusing on Shirahama’s side profile.

His eyes look focused in the way they always do when he’s overthinking something simple. His brows are pinched and his thumb is pressed flat on the side of his lip. Tashiro breathes in the expression, and decides he can show him later.

Laughter reverberates through the restaurant, one table in particular shining with rays of excitement and teasing.

“No, but seriously, how many more piercings can you get?” Tashiro questions dramatically, standing from his seat to stretch across the table and investigate. Hanzawa only laughs behind his hands and turns his head, showing off another new hole in his ear.

“If you ask that every time you’ll keep giving yourself a headache,” says the eldest one at the table, the previous ping pong president in all his red haired glory smirks mischievously and pats Tashiro’s back.

Crossing his arms and dropping back into his seat, Tashiro tries to keep up an air of frustration. It lasts about a second before he breaks out into a smile of his own.

These little meet-ups are a lot of fun for him. It’s not every day that all three of them are in one place. Especially not with their current schedules. It’s a nice break from the busy life he’s been settling into.

He feels his heart warm as he sits with his friends, ready to bring up his latest win in his college ping pong club, when his phone vibrates. Flipping it over, he sees that Shirahama texted him.

Divorce Soon: hey r you home

I left my jacket and this place is freezing

He pauses to consider. He’s not very far from the apartment, he could run there, grab it, and drop it off pretty quickly. But… he glances up from his phone to the two in front of him. He doesn’t want to leave yet. But… looking back at his phone he sees the spam of crying emoji’s Shirahama has begun sending. 

“Hey guys, sorry but my roommate needs me to get him something,” he says with an awkward expression. The conversation pauses as the two process what he said. “Oh sure, you need a ride?” His absolutely genius red haired friend offers, pulling his keys out as he says it.

“Yes!” Tashiro replies as his expression lights up. He tells Shirahama he’s on the way, and they head out towards the parking lot.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Tashiro fiddles with the edge of his shirt. He tries not to move too much, looking back and forth from his hands to Shirahama. His friend has that same look in his eyes that he did back in middle school art class. Focused, determined, trying and failing to keep paint off of his face. Only this time the paint is a bright yellow dye.

They’ve been like this for a while. He hums along to the music playing from his phone. His butt feels a little numb and he has counted and recounted the tiny floor tiles at least a million times, all 173- no, 175 of them. He tries to focus his attention on anything but the gloved hands in his hair.

He carefully reaches over for his phone, switching the playlist to a random one he saw in his recommendations.

It’s not as if he couldn’t survive in silence for a little while. He usually doesn’t have anyone else to do this for him, so silence is kind of a given.

But as he taps the beat into his leg and opens his mouth, no words come out. He lets the silence linger even as Shirahama begins humming the words to a song he remembers coming out in their first year. He thinks about laying on the floor of his bedroom, phone conversations bouncing off his poster-lined walls and music blasting.

He remembers the telltale clicks and clacks from the other end of the call, the curses against ridiculous route mechanics spilling into his ears.

Tashiro feels like this is sort of like those moments, just a little bit more. His legs are longer, his hair can go into a ponytail now, and his world feels so much bigger. His eyes turn towards the boy-technically-man in front of him. His eyes look sharper and his face is more angular.

But, in a lot of ways he feels the same as he always has. The same Shirahama who cried during their graduation, and sat next to him on their first day of middle school. The same Shirahama who bullies him for counting on his fingers, but forgets what comes after 3 when he’s drunk enough. 

The same yet different Shirahama. They match in that way, at least. Both the same, but not fully.

“I… think I’m done?” Shirahama says, breaking their steady silence. Tashiro stands to go look in the mirror. He giggles at the sight of his foil-wrapped hair sticking out at odd angles.

Shirahama laughs along with him, and it really isn’t that funny, but they still stand there giggling like idiots. Tashiro pulls at the corner of his shirt again, turning around and raising it up to Shirahama’s face and wiping away some of the dye.

He drops his shirt and turns back to the mirror, looking at the two of them in the reflection. He watches the way Shirahama’s face stays frozen, and how his whole face flushes like it always has. It’s nice to see some things will never change.

[muzzlemouths]

Hiiiiii @vectorisheree hi hiii I was your Secret Skeleton!

I fell in love with the designs of your 3LAF AU and knew right away that I wanted to try my hand at drawing them. It was TONS of fun.

Hope you're having a happy Halloween! :D

[half-bakedboy]

Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it

Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways. 

Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning. 

This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket. 

He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard. 

Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front. 

It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest. 

He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back. 

Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s. 

He’s Buck’s. 

He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it. 

“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror. 

Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks. 

“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—” 

Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern. 

It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll. 

“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?” 

“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips. 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away. 

“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”

It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.

(now on ao3)

[sergle]

yall are about to piss me off by not having any PASSING basic knowledge of the way the u.s. military manipulates its recruits into joining by typing up one of your uninformed, unresearched, unempathetic, individualistic, unbelievably annoying posts about how 100% of the people in the military ended up there because they just Love America So Damn Much! they're extremely mature and informed at time of recruitment, they can totally leave anytime they want, they totally had tons of other avenues in life they could've taken, there was no rush at all to get income as fast as possible, and everyone in the military also totally is part of the combat divisions and personally enjoys being IN the military very much, big believers of violence. everyone in the military is shooting guns all day, that's how that works. they LOVE BLOODSHED. also I love the "amewicans haha" twang to this type of shit because you're actually TOTALLY stealing our Thing, which is turning systemic issues into Individual Issues. Instead of talking about the powers that be, it's so Personal Choice up in here. It's, "well you shouldn't have done it then. I totally wouldn't because I know better." you don't wanna talk about the military industrial complex as a whole, and you don't want to talk about recruiters, you just want to pin the blame on Specific Individual People one-by-one, as if they're responsible for the system that they're being ground up in. someone was in the military? bad person, no matter what. it's easier to believe that, I guess, than to acknowledge that Normal People (with high school educations) are manipulated and incentivized into joining a system that is Bad. at like age 18. but yeah no that 18 year old should have just been smarter lol haha anyway here are some screenshots for no particular reason

side note this reply of someone going "umm just get loans and go into a high paying field it's easy XD" as a direct response to someone trying to explain how most americans joining the military are being funneled in that direction out of a need for money.

and another person who Decided that americans join the military just CLENCHING their teeth thinking of other people, and not thinking completely selfishly about their own selves and their own income/housing/healthcare.

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.

[yardsards]

im like the lorax when it comes to women's body hair. we should let it grow.

[genericpuff]

every now and then i get folks asking me "puff do you have any opinions on hazbin hotel"

and i know why they're asking because if there's any fandom that puts LO to shame, it's hazbin hotel / helluva boss and surely i must have some Very Strong Opinions(tm) about the show

but i seriously have never watched a single episode of that show and despite all the controversy and drama i've seen come from the discussion of both the show and its creator, the only thing that really bugs me out of the blue when i'm reminded HH exists are those exclusive playbills that people pre-ordered months ago and still haven't arrived

that is it, that is literally the extent of my engagement with the HH fandom, there will be no further questions about what i think regarding HH because i literally have no idea, they are best asked to whoever comes close to being the generic-puff equivalent of the HH fandom

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 12: Carousel

Who wants to be back in the fever dream again? It's you!! Yes you do, yes you do!

Just the one today, which is great as that means I'm back on track finally, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 937

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"Ow!" You say as you bang your head against the control the lip of the panel opening in the carousel's center, "Stupid, frickin'... thing."

You weren't a mechanic, at least you don't think you are, you don't know how to repair machinery like this. The fact that your employer expected you to just pick up the ability to read wiring diagrams and the likes as if it was nothing felt a bit unfair. If you're being honest. 

Sure, you had a manual. But it was hard to read in this low light. Which, that's another thing, why are you even working in the dark in the first place? Are you even supposed to be working in these conditions? Feels like an OSHA violation. 

Your rubbing a hand over the sore spot on your head when all the hair raises on your skin. A chuckle follows soon thereafter. You scramble for your flashlight, waving it around wildly once you manage to turn it on. No luck. He's not here. 

Another laugh, somewhere up above. Correction then, he's not close. 

You frown, and lean back down to snatch up a screwdriver, starting to work on the operator's controls now, flashlight in one hand while you work. It starts to flicker after a minute and you curse to yourself, turning it off for the meantime. 

Moon tuts at this. 

You scoff, "Don't make it seem like I have a choice here."

"Go to sleep," Is his response.

Moon rarely spoke in full sentences you noticed. And tended to repeat the same phrases over and over. If you hadn't heard him say something direct to you that one time, when was that, anyhow? Feels like ages ago, you'd believe that they were all he could say. 

"Can't. I have work to do. As you can see here.," You don't even know if you could sleep with this on-

With what on? You shake your head, frustrated. You hope you get a break soon, you're getting real sick of your brain not functioning properly due to what you're assuming hoping is sleeplessness.

You finish with tightening the front face of the operator panel back into place. You didn't bother with putting the panel back over the carousel's main access, something told you you'd probably just have to remove it again. Why did this thing even need repaired so often? Had anybody even used it since the last time you did? Have you even left the building once?

You flick the lever and then hit the main button. Least you think it's the right one, it's so damn hard to see-

"Nighty-night~"

You glance up in time to see red eyes hanging just above your head. He swings a clawed hand at you and you jump backwards, managing to dodge but falling down in the process. 

Your hands search for your flashlight as the carousel starts to power on, music starting up as you feel yourself start to rotate with the platform you've landed on. 

"Ah, ah," Moon tsks, causing you to look up to him. 

In his hands is your flashlight, you can only watch in horror as your breaks it in two, chuckling as its remains clatter to the floor. 

His faceplate spins, eyes narrowing, "Light's out."

You brace for the worst, but he only stares as you start to move away from him as the carousel takes off. Disappearing into the dark above after a moment. 

It's then you realized you forgot to flip on the ride's lights. 

You quickly stand up, taking a moment to get your balance.  You look around for any sign of the night-themed bot. You can hear him, somewhere on the other side of the machine. Bells twinkling as he searches around for you. 

You pass by the operator's podium once. You hear Moon start getting closer. 

Shit, you need a distraction. And fast. 

You make another turn. In the dark you find half of your flashlight. You hit it against your palm once or twice just to make sure it's unusable. 

"Naughty, naughty," Moon says, he's much closer now. But hasn't seen you yet. 

You duck down behind one of the benches on the ride, hand covering your mouth to keep from making a noise.

You feel fear crawl down your spine as you see the light of his eyes scan across the horses in front of you. It then disappears quickly. You swallow, closing your eyes as you wait for it to all be over.

There's a loud screech as moon's claws rip into the wooden animal off to your far left. He makes a displeased noise. 

He missed. He doesn't know where you are.

The operator's podium passes by you one more time. Move. 

You wait a few seconds then toss the broken flashlight piece somewhere off into the dark. 

You see a flash of Moon's eyes as he darts over to the sound. 

When you finish your next lap, your quickly roll off the machine and crawl over to the control panel. 

You flip the switch. 

There's a hiss behind you, you turn around in time to watch Moon retreat back into the shadow's away from the carousel. Away from you. 

You sigh, collapsing back against the podium. It's then that you feel something cold on your right shoulder. 

Reaching back, you feel a large hole that's been ripped into the back of your shirt. 

Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Moon speak.

"It's past your bedtime," He snickers. Which is his way of saying 'Until next time' you've realized.

You grumble, rubbing a hand over your eye.

This job sucks.

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Little more light-hearted compared to yesterdays. Which you can find here if you haven't seen it or any of my other promptobers already. Thanks for reading!

[pnfc]

i haint watched the dang chibisode and idk if ill actually watch it with sound on sdfjk but i have a hurt feeling about them casually imbuing perry with speech for a one off gag because the idea that he needs to talk to communicate is fake. we had 4 seasons of wacky magic hijinks cartoon where perry never needed verbal speech to communicate. they couldve done this gag at any point in the show but they didn't, and the fact that they didn't felt significant. perry's muteness is such a core part of his character, to me, to the way i conceive of him/write him. i don't wanna overreact to a goofy little side cartoon (even tho i'm doing it anyway) but it's still the characters, and it still upsets me! ok that's it i've said my piece