#and even if i know hearing about their trip will be hard its an asshole move to approach them with

[sleevebuscemii]

tmi

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[hwayangyeon]

NSFW gamer jake x gamer reader // you and jake play league together and argue a lot but somehow you end up on his lap // teasing, a lot touching, public bathroom sex (again) // 1.2k words

it's a little goofy // you don't have to know anything about league // not much about penetraton just a lot of touching // viego is a league character

"jesus, it's you again," you saw a familiar nickname in the lobby, "try not to lose for once?"

it's pretty reasonable for you two to end up on the same team since not so many people play at this hour. you recognize some of the players from previous matches, but only seeing this one makes you want to quit. can he ever get on the enemy team? or better, can he stop coming to this pc room?

it might be late, but after you finish your night shift, it's the perfect time for you to play. it's usually just the two of you and some kids watching porn in the back, hiding from their mothers. it's nice and quiet, well, when you don't flame each other.

"and why would you ban my champion?" the guy sitting across from you looked at you, tired. he's gotten used to you being the worst teammate he's ever had to deal with.

"so you don't suck at it. play something better."

"bitch."

"asshole."

it did not start well for your team. the support forgot to buy items, mid was afk for four minutes and you are losing your own lane. it's going to be really hard to turn it around, the enemy team is too far ahead.

"can you ever come top? the enemy jungler has ganked me eight times already, what the fuck have you been doing?" you looked over your screen.

"fuck off. i stole two dragons if you haven't noticed," his eyes focused on the game.

"i don't care about the dragons, everyone is fed. what's a dragon going to change? do something."

"don't feed then. stop whining and learn how to play, bitch."

he's too concentrated for a match going this bad. his brows furrowed, bottom lip fighting for its life between his sharp teeth. they'd probably look nice if he ever smiled. no wonder he has nothing to smile about in his life if he always plays this badly. oh shit, you're back in the game.

after successfully destroying towers and going as far as the enemy inhibitors, the game eventually ends with a red, humiliating text appearing on your screen. DEFEAT.

the room gets filled with all sorts of insults.

"please, delete your account," you take off your headset and stand up. enough for today. you don't like ending with a loss but knowing your luck you'd get placed with him again.

"shut up. i only lose whenever i play with you," he points his finger at you, "come, see my match history," he then signals for you to look at his screen, his eye wide, shocked from you having the audacity to flame him.

you walk around the desk and move in his direction, "yeah because you're not used to the high e–"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, CAN YOU TWO FINALLY SHUT UP?" you hear the owner yell behind you, it scares the shit out of you making you trip over a chair and lose balance. jake grabs your hips and you end up on his lap. not that he cares if you fell on the ground, it was an instinct.

you want to stand up as soon as you sit, but the man continues and you're taken aback, "YOU KEEP YELLING AT EACH OTHER, EVEN THE GUYS WATCHING PORN AREN'T AS LOUD AS YOU. IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR MOUTHS I'M GONNA KICK YOU OUT."

you both stay silent because of the shock. you feel like two kids being scolded for making noise past curfew.

you want to stand up again but the man keeps going, "look, guys, i'm sorry for lashing out at you. it's just my wife, she's leaving me," his tone unexpectedly changes.

you're frozen, not fully acknowledging the position you're in. jake's left hand is still on your hip.

"like, i can't understand why would she do that to me," the man closes his eyes and sighs. jake's fingers slowly climb under the hem of your shirt. they're asking for permission and you're not denying it.

"we've been together for twenty years..." you feel his warm touch on your skin, it makes you straighten up a little.

"we were perfect together! do you guys get me?" he suddenly asks you and you both nod without thinking, jake's hand immediately stops as if you were caught cheating on a test.

"and she wants to take the kids too! ridiculous..." the man looks away from you as if he was looking for a solution to end his misery. jake resumes his movement. he squeezes your waist softly, his fingers sinking into your flesh.

"no, i can't allow her to do that... i'm their father," his thumb making its way lower, pressing on your back dimple, causing you to arch. shit, that's exactly where guys you hook up with put their hands when they're fucking you.

"they must live with me," his touch is so gentle, yet you're melting. it feels like he's sculpting your body as if you were made out of clay.

"have i signed a prenup? i can't have her take the house," his hand travels to your abdomen, pushing you back lightly so you lean back on his chest, relaxing your tensed-up body. he has so much control over you.

"i built it with my own hands!" you can feel him staring at your side profile, probably smirking seeing how worked up he got you. but you can't look at him, not with that red blush on your face.

"that bitch... i should've seen this coming. my mother was right about her," your head falls back to touch his, he gets a little carried away because of the sweet scent of your hair, it makes him lean against you. fuck, he smells good for a league player too.

"anyway," the man finally finishes his monologue, "YOU IN THE BACK, SHUT UP!" he completely ignores you and goes to yell at the kids for being noisy.

"you could've just said you were craving my attention," the guy behind you whispers into your ear.

———

"fuck," jake pins you onto the bathroom stall, your back is starting to hurt from you pushing each other at the walls, not being able to get enough of yourselves, "i'm close."

he grabs your ass and holds you up, his face buried in your neck, biting it because of how amazing his dick feels inside you. his release is almost there too.

your hands lost in his hair, trying to bring him even closer. some people say there is a fine line between love and hate, but it's even thinner between hate and lust.

"jake!" your moan announces your climax. oh it feels so good for him, having you scream his name after how you belittled his gaming skills.

he follows you right after and helps you stand on your own, but he doesn't pull out yet.

"i can go another round," his voice breathy, lips glistening with saliva he produced while kissing your neck. his hair completely messy, thanks to you.

"how can you be this good at fucking but suck so bad at viego, jake 123?"

after hotel.

[nevertheless-moving]

I have a handful of aus that involve bridge four becoming either briefly or unshakably convinced that kaladin is actually a herald (either one who lost his memory, or secretly, as a test for the lighteyes (they're not doing well)). Actually there's probably at least one guy in canon in WOK who has this as his only half joking pet theory and a couple others who are willing to hear him out for laughs. When the Tower run second ideal happens he's just like I TOLD YOU GUYS I STORMING TOLD YOU.

Anyway Bridge Four Shenanigans such as:

swearing by different heralds names extra loudly to see if kaladin turns around at one

One guy around a corner burning glyph wards dedicated to specific heralds at timed intervals while you watch kaladin carefully to see when he twitches

Saying blatantly wrong things about heraldic legends to see if kaladin will correct you. this one actually works sometimes!!

Eventually teft (assuming its not a time travel scenario where teft is also pretty sure radiants shouldn't just know per-recreance things) or kaladin realizes what's going on and exasperatedly explains his Actual Whole Deal. The guys still keep the bit going, 95% because they've learned it really annoys Kaladin, 5% because he might still be a herald that's testing them only he has a new name (its a very multicultural group of men. What's one more name for Jezrian/Yaezir/Yaysi). And if he is a herald testing them then that's a dick move to pull on your own bridge crew so he deserves to be mocked for it.

Bridge Four being Assholes:

Very satisfying to angrily snap "Kaladin's hands!" to his face when he assigns you night watch for the second week in a row.

Or even just doing a normal herald swear and then immediately following it up with "SORRY CAPTAIN NO OFFENSE." The more panic you fake the better. He sighs so hard, it's great.

a genuinely aggrieved "CAPTAIN'S TITS" got such hard laughs after Lopen stubbed his toe that Moash almost threw up

but unfortunately. as we all know. if you do something ironically enough times. it eventually becomes an actual habit.

And now some of the other bridgecrews have picked up on it and the Captain might actually send the guys who trained them on a one way trip to the tranquiline halls. Skar tripped in front of Prince Adolin and cursed without thinking about it and now the Brightlord is asking. a LOT of questions. Couple of pissed off ardents might get involved. It's messy.

[rowanfalls]

No joke, I think dungeon meshi has seriously impacted my desire to be healthy for the better. A very long and heartfelt (but spoiler free) essay is under the cut.

I have Avoidant Restrictive Food Intake Disorder. Because of my OCD, some foods are safe and some are not and I would literally rather starve than eat an unsafe food (i know because it happened once on a trip to Switzerland). This means I mostly eat chicken nuggets, buttered noodles, donuts, soda, the like. The only vegetable I can eat is cooked broccoli and the only fruit I can eat is apples (smoothies not withstanding).

I'm also physically disabled in a way that makes it hard for me to exercise or do physical activity, not to mention how my ADHD and Depression fuck with that as well. I'm 'lucky'* in that I have a genetic disposition towards being very thin and probably will stay that way until I'm in my 40s (my dad was exactly the same at my age).

So I eat mostly junk food and I sit at my computer all day every day and for a long time, I've been happy with that. When I tell people about my Eating Disorder, they usually say "oh, is there a way to fix it?" and my answer is always "why would I want to?" Its not like an allergy or a medical dietary restriction. I don't LIKE any of the foods I can't eat. I don't have any reason to want to learn how to eat them.

Besides health reasons of course. I know in my head that not eating any vegetables isn't good for me but I also know that I don't really want to eat them and, for most of my adulthood, I've lived with the mindset that I think a lot of people my age have where they hear so many people say 'just eat well and exercise!' as a solution to every problem and so they tend to hate the idea of doing that. The health industry is full of too many people who are fatphobic assholes or who think a green smoothie can cure your depression for good or who just want your money or whatever and I hate that. And so I've kind of felt above exercise and nutrition.

But then I read Dungeon Meshi.

Even in the beginning, the manga was super inspiring. The way Senshi talks about taking care of your body so you can go on adventures makes it sound like something I might want to do. So much of today's health advice is shame based and, as someone who grew up in and left a high demand control group, I work hard not to tolerate shame in my life. But Dungeon Meshi posits a new view of health and nutrition, one that is centered in love for the self, love for your friends, and love for your food. It resonated with me in a way that I really wasn't expecting it to.

Over the last few years, I've been working really hard to become a compassionate person. This year, my new goal is learning to turn that compassion inward and I've been trying to do that in several different ways. When I finished reading Dungeon Meshi I knew that one of those ways was going to have to be improving my diet and exercise.

I want to be able to go on adventures (as tame and simple as they may be). I want to live as long as possible to spend time with my loved ones. I want to be able to walk around and exist without pain for as much of that time as I can. I want to love my body and act accordingly, making sure it is well fed and cared for. Hell, I've always loved the idea of cooking but haven't had the energy to really learn, especially since I can't eat most foods, but now the idea of taking the time to cultivate a skill like that, one that I can be proud of and that can be used to care for my friends, fills me with a sense of hope and excitement.

So thank you Dungeon Meshi, and thank you Ryoko Kui. If you haven't read the manga, I highly recommend that you do.

*by lucky I mean that my diet hasn't forced me to deal with the stigma that comes with being fat. I have no idea what kinds of problems it's been causing that I just can't see. I am not saying that it would be bad if I were fat, just that not being thin would mean I faced a lot more stigma and discrimination in my life, which is bad.

[crushedsweets]

do you perhaps have any or more ticciwork hcs.. like how they are with each other 😊😊 !1!1 idk!! any hcs that has something to do with them together. I heart them

hi anon. i got u . i got u . i got u. this is more how they meet in my au. ill do cutesy headcanons eventually. i tried to break this up into different sections but its kinda long and a lot to swallow ... sorry LOL. it doesnt even get outright shippy/romantic but its cool

OK BACKSTORY

ok so in my au. the operator is what drove toby to kill his dad, and he spent a couple months under the operators influence acting like an entire menace. tim and brian got orders from slender to intercept this, but slender realized toby would follow like a loyal dog after being 'saved'. so proxy toby it is.

clockwork was under the operators influence right before her trip to the psychiatric ward, and it lasted maybe 7 months? luckily for Her, her family's death and her disappearance went relatively under the radar cuz theyre seen 'trailer trash' with no friends/presence in any community. she's fighting to hold down a job since she keeps getting fired for going weeks with no contact.

ok HOW THEY MET

they met because toby was stalking a household that natalie wanted to kill the dad of. natalie would be in the middle of an operator episode, where she's behaving erratically, her eyes were glossed over, she is SIGNIFCANTLY stronger than usual. typically, toby would be much stronger than this lanky malnourished girl, but not that night.

they got into a bit of a tussle that Toby's struggling to win. a light in the house turned on cuz of the noise and toby was like Oh fuck this. and he runs off. the flash of the light kinda disturbed clocky and she half regains her senses and runs off too, but still not fully in control. she doesnt realize that shes following toby, but the operator knows this is another chance to kill one of slender's proxies (plus the operator was in control of toby a year prior, before slender took over).

eventually tobys back on the path to the forest, walking through some rural cornfield area and thinking long and hard about nat. and shes looking for him. shes being insanely fucking creepy and slashing at the corn and bushes (she has a machete now). toby tics, and she yells about how she hears him, etc. he's starting to piece together that shes under the operators influence and hes like 'slenders gonna be so hyped i got him a new proxy' (slender does not want her .)

HOW THEY....became friends..?

he eventually plays a game of cat and mouse and gets her to follow him to the cabin. pretty quickly tim and brian are up and they get her down, duct taped her arms, tied her to a random pipe in the kitchen, and spend some time debating on what to do. shes swapping between screaming, thrashing, foaming at the mouth and just sitting there silently staring off into the void and swaying. eventually she gets out of the episode and she's acting normal, albeit angry and covered in dirt. they get her off the pipe and talk to her.

ive mentioned how slender um kinda grossly leaks an inky liquid.... and it has effects... ok yea drink that and the operator eventually loses control over you. toby kinda explains it to her. in complete desperation and exhaustion, natalie's like "you can fix this ? you can stop the amnesia and waking up in random peoples blood??? you can stop me from going into random fucking cornfields acting like a monster????". toby was like yea:3 SURE CAN

but it hurts. its physically painful, mentally exhausting, it's almost like withdrawal symptoms. It can take a couple weeks to months to finally get the operator off, and multiple doses of the ink. again, tim and brian do NOT live full time at the cabin, so she's left with toby mostly. its really uncomfortable. theyre both awkward assholes. tobys intentionally blunt, natalie grew up with no filter. but toby has this weird complex where he's convinced the boss is gonna be soooo happy that toby did this 'for him.' so he keeps it up.

usually they just kinda coexist.. but tobys on edge all the time. the second she gets weirdly quiet and starts spacing out, toby gets kinda aggressive and starts suggesting he needs to restrain her or some weird shit. they have gotten into another physical fight when she was in another episode, but tim and brian pulled them off of eachother. she rarely remembers it, and toby doesnt bring it up cuz hes embarrassed that natalie is as strong as him when under the influence. but she's ..kinda like a willing prisoner ? she really doesnt wanna be there but she wants to be done with feeling possessed. occasionally she gets really violent and her eyes roll back and she has to be duct taped and locked in a room over night or else she might kill toby. the next morning toby mumbles apologies as he cuts off the tape and rubs her wrists for her. she understands, even if she hates it.

AFTER THE OPERATOR

a couple weeks go by of pain, then a month of normalcy. the operator gets his claws off natalie and she's like. ugh. ok. that fucking sucked ass. fuck you guys. but thanks.

slenderman doesnt want her. she literally doesnt care that he doesnt want her tho LMFAO she didnt want to be a proxy. tobys pissed and is mad at her for like a week even tho its not even her fault. but anyway..

tim hated being around her because 1. it hurts to see a young girl crying and writhing in pain 2. it hurts to see what you used to be like. brians chill, he always fed her, he's brought her some books and stuff.

but, of course, she spent the most time with toby - and they got closer. theyd sit and talk, he'd bring her around the forest, kinda explain a lot of um. The Lore. LOL. toby introduced her to jack, theyve gone swimming together, taught her how to cut down trees, she's drawn him and he's in awe. she loves books and stories but has pretty bad dyslexia, so he read a book out loud for her once. they kinda both poked fun at eachother ('ur stutter is making this annoying' 'at least i can fucking read') and ended up never doing that again LMFAOOO but he started hooking up audio books for her. it was kinda cringe for them both, but a sweet gesture

she finally started working as a waitress/bartender in this underground shady ass bar. the patrons started to love her bc she's tall like a model, long hair, nice voice, witty, has a sharp tongue. fits right in with the grimy atmosphere. toby gets grossed out anytime he comes to visit her/pick her up and middle aged men are saying bye to her. he doesnt know if its jealousy or if its generally just ew. she rightfully complains about it tho so he's like 'heh.... knew it.... she wouldnt want those guys.....' hes so annoying i love him

he helps fix up a nice little barn for her, cuz slender gets riled up anytime she's at the cabin for more than a few days. something something about not wanting a distraction or 'outsiders' there.

but yeah :3

they never end up dating in my lore though. they never even admit having feelings for eachother. nats real good at pushing these things down, and toby just doesnt think its worth it. (plus i want toby to also have a little arc with jack.. LMFAOAOAO SORRY im a ticciwork and ticcijack shipper my bad).

eventually they do stop having feelings for eachother, but everything remains the same. theyre really close. theyre cute. i love them.

thank you anon

[cosmicbash]

I saw this too late :’( but aren’t Em’s boobs in those pics just MWAH? Cant you imagine a very enthusiastic Kelly trying to convince Marshall to get a nipple piercing and mister grumpy grandpa Mathers just getting absolutely appalled and horrified by that request. Then maybe Colson finds him looking up online sex shops for nipple clamps.

(((I just found this sitting unposted in my drafts????? and its good?? so why didnt i ever hit post??))

Em's boobs just looked so squeezable 😩😩

I envy that guy who copped a feel after Em teased him over their neverending handshake.

If only that could be ME

Also you are NEVER TOO LATE to say ANYTHING about Ems tits in an ask. That IMMEDIATELY revives my artistic spirit. I need those tits like water bby and I know kells would too.

Also nipple piercing em is 😏🥴🥴

So. Ahem

TittyTitTittyTitTittyTitTransitionTit

They've been laying in Colson's bed bickering over it for at least a half hour. Their once content not!snuggling and casual body exploration falling apart completely in favor of an argument.

"Come on, just one little hoop-"

"Ha!"

"It doesn't even hurt that bad I swear babe-"

Marshall's next snort sounds almost gutteral with how hard he holds back another mocking fit of laughter. "Doesn't even hurt- yeah, cuz a literal needle jabbing through one of the most sensitive spots on my body to rip flesh out and make a hole is like playing patty cake-"

"Oh come on, when you word it all fucking extra like that of course it'll sound bad- look-" Colson knew feeling offended was a little stupid but he has never let being stupid stop him before. "If anyone between the two of us has a more accurate pain scale for piercings do you really think its the one that has a single set of pierced ears? Hm? Or maybe the dude with like a dozen-"

This time Marshall did laugh openly at him, tone shifting over to a properly annoyed one.

"Really? Your pain scale is super fucking skewed Colson! How many times this year did you smash literal bottles and shit over your head? Divebomb off a stage to bust your ribs? Sleep through nasty tattoo spots? Don't you dare try and act like I'm being a pussy over nothing."

It's out of Colson's mouth before he can stop himself. His childish selfish wants completely winning out in a "Pftt, well you totally are."

Regret wells up just as fast in him as the anger does in Marshall's eyes. His semi comfortable spot sat over the other man's lap rapidly upseated in a flurry of fast movement. "Fuck you."

"Fuck. Em, come on-" Colson knows when he's stuffed his foot in his mouth and this is definitely one of the worser times. He should have been more mindful of the tension already present, or of his partners ever denied sensitivity to such subject. But the match is lit under Marshall's fire now.

"Some of us don't have a pile of pills or gallons of alcohol to hide behind everytime we go out and fuck our body up some more you know-"

And there it is. The always accurate defensive jab off Marshall's sharp tongue.

It hurts more this time than Colson expects it to. Maybe because he knows he deserves it for pressing and trying to guilt trip the other rapper. And maybe because he knows by now he really should be getting his shit together so the other man doesn't have such an easy diss to throw his way.

To their credit though, he can see a flash of regret pass over Marshall's face too as soon as it comes out.

Not that it stops the brunette from getting dressed any further, or slows his obvious escape.

"I'm--" sorry. Colson can almost hear it. See the word curl and shape on Marshall's lips, but the anxiety further up in blue eyes prevents it. They both know it wont allow it to come out. So another exasperated noise does instead, hands flying up to rake through the rare hatless head before Marshall is moving again. Sweats yanked up and feet thankfully left bare.

"It's my fucking nipple you asshole."

And then he's gone. Out of Colson's room without another outburst. Off to lick his wounds or more so, allow Colson to lick his own.

A few months ago the blonde would have chased after, continued the shouting until it teetered on that scary ledge of physical, their fingers grabbing too tight at eachothers skin, fists shaking, anything to keep Marshall from leaving.

But now? He's learned enough to take note of the shoes in the corner of his room, the discarded kangol, wallet and keys neatly tucked away in the spare nightstand, and so many other little anchors locking Marshall down around the room. It's just space. Space needed to run and cool off somewhere else in the house, prevent a bigger fight. A smart skill Colson should really use more himself.

So he rolls himself over into the warm emptied spot on the bed and waits. Ego wounded and heart a little sore by his own fault.

It only takes an hour for Marshall to come back and even less time than that for Colson to file his horny nipple ring tugging dreams far far away in his mind. An argument decidely NOT for another day or at all if he knows whats best for them.

Keeping Marshall back curled in his bed is obviously whats best. It keeps that gnawing need to drink his sorrows away, and makes the world's edges feel less sharp.

He wants to apologize as soon as he hears the click of the bedroom door, but he manages to bite it back until sock padded feet are thumping softly across his carpet beneath the bed. A rough sounding "Sorry-" leaving his tongue before he even sees Marshall walk into his line of vision. It's the one thing he has on the other man, his ability to actually say the word first, without painful prodding. And he's not going to let go of it no matter how petty he wants to be.

"Don't." The older man is sighing, but in a soft way. It drags his eyes away from the wall finally. The relief he feels just seeing Marshall back standing there in his room quickly replaced by a blip of confusion.

He's got stuff clutched to his chest, a bottle of peroxide, wipes, some plastic packaging. And up further Colson can see how embarrassment is burning his cheeks pink above his dark beard. His expression twisted into one of discomfort.

"Well?"

"Well?" Colson feels even more confused. Marshall is acting like the little bottle in his hand might as well be a bouquet of apology roses and he can't for the life of him figure out why.

"You gonna fucking pierce me or not?" He's chewing the insides of his cheeks. Usually Colson finds this cute but his ears are still ringing from the question. Excitement racing through his veins like gasoline lit by a match.

It's not surprise he practically jumps off the bed. "For real?? For real, for real??" He has to be dreaming, he must've slipped right off into a depression nap at some point while Marshall was gone because there's no way the other man can be serious.

But he is. Hands discarding the clutter of alcohol wipes, peroxide, and clean packaged piercers needles on the bed like it's nothing. "If you're telling me you sat here running your mouth and can't put your money to it now then I'm seriously gonna smack you this time-" Marshall's huffing at him, hands a little shakey while he wrestles off his shirt. "I had to bullshit to your bassist that you were having a manic episode and wanted a new piercing to get all this shit so, don't think you're getting off scott free either. I'm not having those dudes speculate where I let you pierce me if they see you come down without a new one-"

"Oh my god-" Colson still can't grasp reality. He's never won an argument this hard against Em before. Usually his crazy ideas are just whacked back down with a bat. He almost feels like he should cry.

Marshall looks like he wants to as well, but for a different reason. His anxiety visible in the twitchy movements of his hands and the squint of his face. "Please don't tell me you toked your brains out while I was gone-"

"No!" That jerks Colson back to full functionality. His hands moving to grab at the items and heart racing like a horse in his chest. "I-- I just needed a minute to- fuck- to fuckin process that-- you're serious? You're really serious about doing this?"

"Getting less by the second."

God he wants to kiss him. And shit, he does, hand coming up to drag the older rapper down by his neck and seal their mouths together in a firm smooch. Grin breaking their lips apart when he just can't hold back his giggles anymore. "Holy shit, I'm so fucking excited-"

"Shut up." He can feel just how hard Marshall's own heart is galloping when he lets his hand drag down the man's chest after they part. Palm pausing over the hard punch against skin like a magnet. He's certain that's not excitement, which makes it even hotter.

The dudes terrified but still willing to go through with this to please him.

He's gonna suck his dick so hard after they're done. Hell, he'll shove him down on the bed and ride him until sunset. This is a bazillion times better than apology roses.

"You do, uh, know what you're doing right?"

Colson does NOT. But he grins and nods his head anyway. He knows how to give someone a piercing yeah, he's done tons of his own and other peoples. Through the nipple though? That's gonna be a first, but his other hand is already tapping away super fast and discreetly on his phone while he pushes Marshall down to sit in his emptied space on the bed. "I got you baby-" He's gonna wikihow his way through this before anyone changes their mind.

[fandom-go-round]

Hi and happy mermay! How about Jazz and a human s/o exploring a reef together and maybe something tries to make a meal out of reader? fluff/angst/comfort, any category works :) whatever you find inspo for

Warnings: Shark Attack, Wounded Reader, Mermaid Jazz, Human Reader, Monster x Reader, Shark Death, Blood No Graphic Descriptions, Wound No Graphic Descriptions

I know that sharks don’t usually go after people, this is your official PSA that sharks aren’t total assholes

            It’s easy to get lost under the ocean. Not just physically but mentally too. You’ve been swimming with Jazz for a long time now and being in the water feels natural. Even if your fins are annoying, nothing beats being able to roll through the waves with your lover. Jazz teases you about having to be in a wet suit but he only ever takes it off when you’re on land or near some place you can stand.

            Today it’s a trip out to a farther reef, a place Jazz has been asking you to join him for weeks. You’ve been hesitant, mostly because you need a boat to get there. He swears up and down that it’s not going to be an issue but it’s still nerve wracking to slip into the water so far from land.

            Jazz was following your boat the entire time and when you sink into the water he grins and weaves around you, fins flaring out. He’s a gorgeous mer, primarily black and white with blue accents. He reminds you of an old wife fish but you’ve never gotten the courage to ask him. It feels rude, even if he wouldn’t care.

            You can’t kiss him with the snorkel in your mouth but you smile, reaching out to twirl around him. He coos something in a mer greeting and you hum back, knowing that he gets the idea.

            “Come on love, this way.” He’s quick to take off, not leaving you behind but knowing where he’s going. You follow, watching as the reef comes into view. Jazz is right; it’s beautiful and covered in life. He leads you down towards the bottom, pointing out different schools of fish and crabs. Most of the creatures leave the two of you alone, some braver fish swimming between Jazz’s fins.

            You’re distracted by an eel half out of a rock, watching as it corners some type of smaller fish. The schools around you scatter but it’s only when a shadow falls over you that you react. The tiger shark darts forward as you try to launch back, teeth grazing your shoulder as you scramble down the coral.

            Your screaming, half in pain and half in shock, bubbles blinding your vision. You try to regulate your breathing but it’s hard when you have no idea where the shark is. Faint red oozes around you and you swear, knowing blood in the water is only going to make it worse. By the time you get your breathing under control the shark has its sights set on you and you have no idea what to do.

            A furious shriek has you flinching, a blur of black and white barreling towards the shark. It’s too late for the fish to move and Jazz rakes his claws down its side, the shark thrashing in pain. It turns from you towards its attacker but Jazz is too fast, dodging the bite aimed at him and giving one in return.

            It’s not a fight, not really. The shark has no idea what to do and Jazz isn’t letting up. You watch in horror and awe as Jazz breaks it’s back, a quick jerk that you can only half hear in the water. He wastes no time swimming over to you and dragging you towards your boat. Other sharks begin to swarm the corpse, drawn by the blood and fighting. None turn towards you, thankfully.

            It doesn’t take long to get to the boat, Jazz helping you in and crawling in himself. You yelp, trying to tell him to not get in the boat but he somehow manages to get in without sinking. The boat is low in the water but it holds somehow. You begin to head back to shore, your lover pressed against your side and looking you over. You sign a little to yourself, reaching for the first aid kit. You’re not going to be diving again any time soon.

[soaringeag1e]

Escape {62}

Detective!Dean x Victim!Reader

Warnings: Language, Guilt, Yelling, Emotional

Words: 1,841

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Patreon

"I shouldn't have done it." Sam tosses his salad together while listening to his brother continue to beat himself up over what had happened with you. "I knew it. I knew it was going to upset her and I should have just let it go." 

"You need to stop." Dean seems to ignore him as he grabs a lime from the little bowl the waitress gave them and squeezes it over his tacos. "It was a good idea, Dean, and you know damn well that if it were anyone else you would have done the same thing." 

"But that's just the thing, this wasn't someone else. This was Y/N. The woman that I'm going to marry. The same woman that I swore I'd protect from any more harm, and it turns out that I can't even protect her from myself."

"She'll be fine." Sam tries to convince him for the hundredth time. "I'm sure her and Sarah are becoming stress free as we speak. A girls day at the spa should do her good."

"I hope you're right."

-

Sarah was beaming as she watched the woman at her feet do her nails. The color was just as gorgeous as it was on the shelf and she was glad that she went with it. But when she looked over at you to see if you were enjoying yourself, she could tell by the look on your face that your mind was elsewhere and she didn’t need too many guesses as to where that was.

“You know what we should do after this?” she asks with a pep in her voice. You turn to look at her, but say nothing as you wait to hear her idea. “We should get coffee. A nice warm latte sounds really good right now.”

“Okay.” Your reply lacks excitement but what hurts Sarah more is the sadness that lingers over you. Even during your massage your body seemed to fight against its effects. She really thought this would help you relax, but it was looking like a big fail.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” you reply quietly, your eyes focusing on your painted toes though Sarah is convinced that your thoughts haven’t been on this trip to the spa the entire time.

“I really wish you would stop beating yourself up about this, sweetie.”

“How could I not?” you say with an emotional tone. “I should have done the interview.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Sarah stresses, shifting in her chair but careful not to move her feet too much. “Y/N, you did the right thing. You did what was best for you.” 

“But that’s just it, I was being selfish.” you whimper, desperately trying to hold in your emotions. “The man that’s responsible for everything that happened to me and those other girls is still out there and instead of helping capture him…I ran away.” Sarah looks at you with sympathy, wishing like everyone else that she could take away your pain. “What if he hurts someone else? That’s on me.” 

“No. Y/N…no, it isn’t on you.”

“Yes it is! He’s out there, free roaming because I was too chicken to do anything about it.”

“Listen to me,” Sarah begins, her voice firm. “None of this is on you, okay? None of it. Everything that asshole has done is on him and him only, you understand me?” Even when she sees a tear slip from your eye she doesn’t let up on her hard gaze with you. “But either way, this guy is a five star dickbag. He doesn’t do any of the dirty work himself.” she adds before sitting back in her chair, briefly looking to her newly painted toes to see the woman finishing up on her artistic touch.

“Dean thinks he’s the one who was at my house.”

“Well, even so, he doesn’t do anything like that unless he has a fall guy. At least that’s what the guys told me. He had Paul as his fall guy for you and all those other girls and he had Norman back with Cassie, so…” Sarah shakes her head, letting out a sigh as if she was trying to release the vibe this conversation was creating. “I’m sure he’s laying low right now and to find someone you trust enough to do the things he does? That in itself will take time. So, I think it’s safe to say that we don’t have to worry about him hurting anyone for a while.'' She huffs at the end of her sentence and lounges back in her seat as if she’s on a beach somewhere enjoying the sun rays on her skin.

It’s quiet between the two of you, but Sarah doesn’t think anything of it. Now only if she looked over at you at some point would she know that something wasn’t right.

“What did you say?” She wasn’t aware of what was wrong yet, but her stomach still flipped at the tone of your voice. After looking your way, Sarah takes a second to go over everything she just told you, trying to think of what you could be asking of her.

“We don’t have to worry about him doing anything?” she questions, still not sure what she said that’s gotten to you.

“No.” Your head shakes in short, stiff movements and your eyes never leave hers. “No. The thing about Cassie.” It doesn’t register right away, but after she thinks back to what she said and sees the distraught look on your face, it finally comes together.

“Dean didn’t tell you?” It was obvious, but the question came out anyway. 

You were quiet, but Sarah could see there were fires bursting out everywhere in your head. Your breathing became a bit heavier, your eyes were darting around as if you were looking for the closest exit and she honestly was afraid that you were going to get sick.

“I’m sorry. I thought that he told you, I didn’t…” Before she can come up with anything else to say, you slipped from your seat, not caring if your toes were dry or not. “Y/N?” There was no stopping you. You were on a mission and she could see that. “Y/N!” Despite the fact that she spent a good chunk of cash on the spa day and her new painted toes, Sarah quickly jumps out of her chair and rushes after you, cursing under her breath the entire way out of the building.

-

“I saw the pictures of the venue.” As Dean comes out of the kitchen Sam takes the beer that his brother hands him. “Looks nice.”

“It is. That’s all Y/N though. She found it in one of those books she got. Never even knew that place existed.” Popping the top of his bottle, Dean then takes a quick swig before tossing the top on the table.

“Did you know of any of the venues existing?” Sam gets his brother's annoyed glare for making the comment, but it makes him chuckle anyway. 

“Shut up, Sam.” The youngest brother laughs a bit more as the two move into the living room, both taking a seat on the couch. 

“So, what’s the date again? I can’t remember what Sarah said.”

“October third.”

“That’ll be pretty.”

“Yeah.” Dean smiles fondly. “It’s what she wants and I think it’s perfect. For one, I won’t have to stand up at the altar in scorching hot temperatures.” The two share a light laugh before taking another drink of their beers, but before they can pull the bottles away from their mouths the front door flies open, grabbing their attention instantly.

Dean almost chokes down his beer when he sees you storm in, the fact that your eyes are filled with fire and you seem to be on the verge of either throwing something or breaking down in tears immediately puts him on edge.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know that you didn’t…” Sarah yells into the house when she knows she can’t beat you inside, but even then, you cut her off when you lock eyes with Dean.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” Sarah finally makes it alongside you, slightly out of breath as she was rushing after you this whole time.

“Tell you what?” Dean asks, clearly confused.

“About Cassie!” Still confused, Dean looks between you and Sarah, his shoulders beginning to raise when you scream at him again. “Why didn’t you tell me that he hurt Cassie too!?” When it registers, Sam’s gaze drops from the girls and he glances at his brother.

“Maybe we should take off.”

“No! You knew this too!” Getting the heat from you stops Sam from getting up from the couch. Sarah mouths an ‘I’m sorry’ towards the guys but keeps in her spot. “Why didn’t any of you tell me?” your voice comes down in volume but the hurt you’re feeling seems to get worse. “Did you not trust me or something?”

“No.” Dean tells you as he stands from the couch and makes his way across the room. “No, honey, that’s not it.”

“Then why? If you told me then I would have…”

“Done the interview.” he states, wiping away a stray tear before you even realize you’re crying. “I know.” Sarah sneaks around the back of the couch, heading over to join her husband while the two of you have your moment. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“But, Dean, I…”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to do it, Y/N, and I know that if I told you about the connection he has with Cassie then you would have jumped into it without thinking about the repercussions it would have had on you.” Knowing that he was speaking the truth, you weren’t really sure what to say.

“But…you’ve been looking for him for so long.”

“Doesn’t matter.” he tells you, a soft smile gracing his lips. “The good thing about all this, is whoever this guy is clearly lives in town and has for a while now. I will get him and I don’t need you hurting yourself to help me.”

“But I want to help you.”

“I know. But what I need you to do is to do what's best for you, not for me.”

“That’s what I told her.” Sarah mutters, getting both you and Dean to look over at the couple sitting semi quietly on the couch. “What? I did.” Sam smiles at his wife and lightly pats her on the thigh.

“But I love you.” you tell Dean when he turns back to you. “And I’m supposed to care about what’s best for you.”

“I know.” he says, his fingers brushing against your cheek as they go back into your hair. “But I don’t want you worrying about this, okay?”

“You know that’s impossible, right?” Dean chuckles a bit, understanding that your statement was meant to be a joke despite the truth behind it and then pulls you in for a hug.

“Yeah, I know.”

[nattyluvs]

CAFE CUTIE - chapter 4

you approached the all-so familiar spot on the corner of the street. the drawings on the window of the menu items for the week visible.

unfortunately, it was basically rush hour for the cafe, even though it was later in the day on a weekend. beomgyu, the barista that was pretty much there every single time you visited, happened to not be there today.

it was weird, now it was rush time and there wasnt anybody to make slow conversation with behind the counter. you quickly ordered something from the unfamiliar barista, and sat down at the last table empty.

you reached into your bag, about to pull out your notebook, just to vent, jot down ideas, write literally anything. you just needed something to get your mind off everything going on.

"um, is it okay if i sit here? there isnt any more tables open" you heard a voice mumble

you looked up from your urgent writing in the notebook, a young guy appeared, though apperance barely shown. he was wearing a mask and a hoodie, hard to figure out why he looked so familar.

"yeah, its fine dont worry." you smiled, continuing to write. you only got a auick glance at him, but he was definitely cute. his eyes were an obvious giveaway.

but, he just looked so familar, you couldnt quite put your finger on it. deciding to speak up, you asked,

"do we know eachother? sorry if this is weird, you just seem familar, like ive seen you before."

"no, i dont think we do...sorry" the guy mumbled again. you thought, maybe hes shy? or maybe his voice is soft? but its not. he has a sort of deep voice, its just barely spoken, almost not even audible.

"i see... do you perhaps go to decelis?"

"umm...no i go to jyp...the other school in town"

"ohh i see, our schools are rivals huh" you smiled again, hopefully getting some more words out of him.

"yeah, haha" he laughed a bit, "also...not to be nosy but whats the eyepatch for?" he quietly spoke

you scoffed, followed by a sigh, "at school we had our rally, and during the senior game i got hit by a dodgeball by this popular dude named jake or something. the worst part is, he didnt even apologize! or acknowledge that he hit me!" you explained, hint of anger in your voice.

"i see...he's kind of an asshole for that, he shouldve apologized." he whispered, but just loud enough so you could hear."

"right! now i have to wear an eyepatch for my homecoming photos, and nobody is going to ask to go with me..."

"dont say that, im sure somebody would take you, your pretty and you have a nice personality, dont doubt yourself."

"thats alot of compliments for someone you just met." you questioned, but also embarassed at the sudden praise.

"anyways, i didnt mean to dump all my problems onto a stranger, whats your name?"

"umm...my name is..ethan"

"okay...ethan. you seem interesting, give me ur phone."

without hestitation, he quickly handed over his phone, no seccond thoughts.

"ive got to go now, but i'll see you another time, yeah?" you gathered your things, flashing another smile before walking out the door.

the boy sat in silence for awhile, drowning in his own thoughts until he checked his phone, seeing the new contact added as "yn"

previous masterlist next

a/n: sorry for not updating i came back from my trip on sunday and then i had a fever !!!

taglist

@16luver @junebug032 @zuyairus @bluxjun @iadorethemskz

click here or send a note to be added

[happymetalgirl]

Listening to Problematic Bands

This is a segment taken from my Lingua Ignota review awhile ago that focuses on the aforementioned topic, and I figured I would give its own separate post. I made a few edits to make it more generally applicable and of course a few additional thoughts. It’s an interesting topic of discourse with a lot of facets and it’s certainly not going away any time soon.

The problematic artist discourse is complicated, I get it; I don't have a golden bullet answer to it. But somehow in all the discourse I've seen about being responsible and not supporting problematic artists and not enabling shitty behavior, I haven't seen anyone acknowledge the obvious elephant in the room, which is that fans don't want to be punished for something they didn't do.

As listeners, watchers, readers, viewers, enjoyers of art, we all (should) go into enjoying any piece of art with the understanding that, no matter how authentic they may come off in their music or their public appearance, we never fully know the artist. We can't know with complete certainty who of them might be up to some unsavory shit behind closed doors, even the edgy ones, some of whom genuinely do keep their antics on the stage and in the studio. And often the art we enjoy does indeed stand so far away from the artist that we don't think about the artist at all (think: lo-fi hip hop beats to study/relax to). And then there are some (think: asshole Mark Kozelek and his dumb boomer podcast ramblings that he calls "songs") who really put themselves as a person into their art. A little harder to dissociate that kind of shit.

I agree with minimizing support for artists doing bad shit on the basis of it possibly discouraging such behavior from others and it consequentially pressuring them to change, but that can be surprisingly hard to go absolute zero on and draw a line on. Does it stop at the band? Does it stop at the label? Does it stop at side projects? Does it stop at collaborators who haven't come out and said anything? But just because there's no agreed-upon line does not mean that we should just shrug our shoulders and say "well what can you do?" Ultimately, as an individual, the answer to that is pretty much nothing, but somehow you add up enough individuals and you can start to get some good change if you all know that better things are possible and expectable. Maybe you don't all agree exactly how much more you deserve but you sure as hell know it's more than that shit boss is paying you all. Maybe we don't know exactly where we draw that "problematic artist" line, but we know the behavior Hayter described of Alexis Marshall is far beyond wherever we draw it. Being attentive as a listener, however casual or invested, is not about being a paranoid hyperreactive sentinel around artists and trying to have a power trip on people you have little individual power over, and it's certainly not about policing individual fans into not listening to their Antichrist Superstar CD or whatever. Again, I get that vile behavior makes some artists immediately more repulsive and easy to let go of at the drop of a hat, and it's easier for some to drop band they've listened to forever than others. And then I think of my favorite band, Meshuggah.

I listen to Meshuggah more than anything else probably. And to my knowledge they don't have any accusers or hold any racist beliefs or anything of the like, but they could. And as much as I imagine it would very likely taint my listening to their music if everything I hypothetically proposed was in fact true for them, I have a hard time imagining not listening to them. How I listen to music has been so irreversibly shaped by Meshuggah, I tap the iconic rhythm of "Bleed" with my fingers on every surface around me without even thinking about it, and I hear Meshuggah in the thousands of bands they've influenced. I snuck Meshuggah into my wedding playlist. It's honestly hard to think about what my music-loving life would look like without Meshuggah, and in some ways it feels impossible, and for me (and probably most Meshuggah fans) it has never been about Jens or Fredrick or Martin or Tomas or Dick. And it doesn't seem like it's ever been about them to themselves either. So I get it for fans who feel torn between their love for the music and their feeling betrayed or that it's been tainted by the very artist that made it.

The whole "separate the art from the artist" cliché tends to be invoked pretty superficially and left at that as just an excuse to not think critically about listening and supporting choices. There is validity to our ability to compartmentalize the two, but viewing art in a vacuum where the artist doesn't exist is reductive, and choosing to only assess art though that lens because grappling with the complicated, dicey, or uncomfortable context surrounding an artist and their art is and lazy and cowardly.

-

When the Me Too movement kicked off, revealing the extensive abuse of power that went on often in plain sight did really shock the system of music and film, but it also came as no surprise that there were a significant number of power-tripping rapists and abusers within the upper echelons of politics and entertainment. Abusable power and influence tends to draw people that want that power at least partly for the sake of abusing it. My initial (naïve) expectation that Me Too would open up the festering abscess of well-connected, powerful abusers and allow them to be drained from the positions they abused. I expected it to be a tumultuous process, for the industry and for fans; it is definitely hard to grapple with a series of revelations of artists you might have liked to be revealed as horrible people behind the scenes. I can only imagine how pop punk fans feel. But I expected it to be relatively quick, like amputating a gangrenous digit.

Unfortunately, nearly a decade later, musicians, actors, producers, etc. are still being revealed for what they truly are, and it's evident that sexual abuse within the arts and entertainment is not a matter of one rotten digit but rather a sepsis that requires intense systemic treatment to fully cure. I don't think it's as much of a matter of abuse-hungry monsters being drawn to positions of power the way the U.S. police systematically attracts and grooms pathologic liars and untreated anger management cases. I think that's part of it, and I think power can definitely corrupt too. But ultimately, I think the extent of abuse is due largely to the attitudes endemic to the broader culture and (un)consciously accepted as normal that surround sex, consent, and abuse that still frame absolutely pathologic behaviors, manipulations, and violations of consent as natural methods of pursuit. It's also the general social framing of sex as a pursuit by one sex and avoidance by the other that perpetuates this, but that's too much of a tangent to go off on.

Obviously, sexual abuse by band members is not the only route for bands to be problematic. Metal is an old enough genre for its once rebellious and transgressive Gen X and even boomer pioneers to now be the out-of-touch pearl-clutchers putting their feet in their mouths and unwilling to learn where they don't understand in favor of reactionary stagnation and decay. We also have no shortage of outright racists and neo-Nazis, some of whom are just too beloved for the culture at large to reckon with, which (for lack of a more resonant term) seems pretty cucked to me. Like, we're worried about reckoning with the racism of so many of the big figureheads in the genre because, what? Metal is dependent on them? You can't let go of Phil Anselmo? We can't imagine that if Peter Steele were still alive his legacy of goth metal pioneering could be tainted by some kind of anti-vax-jizz-is-better nutjob winging about cancel culture if not outright commitment to the iffy Nazi bits he teased in his music? That's fucking weak? Metal as a genre culture looks fucking pathetic clinging onto these toxic idols like we can't do better. The people that whine about "cancel culture run amok" don't care about metal's culture surviving; they've listened to the same shit for 30 years and don't want to feel bad about being uncritical of the metal comfort food from their teens that they still consume. Part of maintaining the health of a culture is having the guts to be critical and recognize when toxicity from toxic people needs to be addressed for what it is, even if those toxic people are legends, even if that legendary band's legacy becoming sour in retrospect is hard to think about.

[grieverled-moved]

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃, 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊, 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒. A look offered cheekily right back his way that screamed with something amused even when steeped in clear fondness. He got under Squall's skin in a way no one else ever had, still did despite all this time, all the obstacles faced & endured. & like it or not, regrets or whatever else may come next, he'd signed up for this - willingly.

( ‘ Would I do it again? Unfortunately. ’ )

The realization shocks him some days, before being smoothed back down by just as surprising but no less welcome reminders. A cycle, but one he's also grown used to in all its ups & downs & twisted turns, it’s a comfort in a way he can’t explain. Familiar in a way not much else is to him.

With frustratingly perfect teeth displayed in a look Squall can only classify as smarmy, he rolls his eyes, breaking the stare first as he moves past the other man's figure with a soft but caving scoff.

❝ Or maybe you just have your oh so mysterious ways of getting past said locked door. ❞

. . . he doesn't mention how half the time he either breaks the doors down or slips in before anyone can kick him out. Who knew crowbars were effective. The blonde asshole was sneaky when he wanted to be, & sometimes, it was easy to forget the man knew how to be quiet & conniving when he really wanted to be. A terrifying thought even. As he turns to cast the other a look after getting his coffee machine prepped - the perks of being commander, he huffs, shaking his head with some muted bitterness as the small machine bubbles & gurgles to life - he rests his lower back against the edge of his small countertop with a curious tilt of his head.

❝ When'd you hear I got back? ❞

Cutting to the chase, he doesn't think too hard on how Seifer managed to figure out his door code. He’d been planning to give it to him one of these days, but with his schedule all over the place . . . He forgot. In a way, there's some relief that peeks at the sight of him, a welcome face after a hellish trip & less than smooth mission. He was a deadman walking on his feet, fatigue oozing off him in waves that he knows everyone who's seen him since he dragged himself back could pick up on. He was hoping to catch a bit of sleep before he had to head off & continue on with his usual duties here, but his mind just refused to shut down . . . So he prepped for needing to have coffee constantly on hand until he’d finished for the day.

Watching Seifer, he tries to brace for whatever comment came next. Part of him wages a bet it'd be something oddly leading to normal banter. Either that or a blunt comment about how he looked, charitably, like shit. Only thing he could do was wait & see.

*INBOX CLEARING. 📨 ➤ @reveromantique [ ; ] nothing’s ever locked .

[ztsrlover]

I literally fell in love with @zelda-the-sacred-realm and I want to give everyone the opportunity to experience some romance with their favorite characters from the story! Enjoy the reading!

Reader x Time

You're walking, the sun was warm and pleasant and you really wanted to collect those rays all for yourself. You thought a walk would distract you but your gaze is caught by him, you see him sitting on the balustrade and a cold shiver alerts you, unconsciously start running towards him and as soon as you reached him you grabbed him by the tunic.

He turns and stares at you raises an eyebrow, as if you shouldn't even touch him.

"What do you want?" He says pulling your arm away, because he's always so grumpy he doesn't understand that you were worried about him? Being able to see him seemed like a blessing but he didn't see it that way

"I-I was worried, I was afraid you'd fall" you say keeping your gaze down, you hear him come down from the railing and you try to back away, and then you see him, he lowers his head to look you in the face.

"Ohh you were afraid I fell, and maybe I might die, oh but I already am" what an asshole, why is he so an asshole with you, you don't deserve it. Can a spirit have emotions or still be alive? He seems to prove the opposite, but the others seem more alive than him!

"Fuck you, you really are an asshole, I worry about you and you treat me like this?" He backs away shocked, maybe he didn't expect you to send him to hell.

"No one asked you, I don't need you to worry about me!" He says taking you by the arm, that move makes you trip over your own feet and you put a hand on his chest to hold you up. Feel your face flare up, how can a spirit be so real, so touchable, so… warm.

Your hand seems to move on its own to follow the lines of his muscles, he was remarkably muscled, and then you look up and you see him, he's staring back at you and you blush.

"I don't think you should, this is a dangerous feeling, especially for me..." you panic, he knew about your crush and he was saying it straight to your face! You try to let go of your arm, you want to run away but he holds you tight.

"L-Let me go!" you yell at him, but he leans down and hugs you, you feel his hands so big and strong holding you by the waist, you blush and feel your heart pounding in your chest so hard it could explode.

"W-what are you doing?" You whisper to him and he rests his face on your neck.

"I wanna feel your heart, is it really beating like this for me?" He answers you still holding you close to him. You feel your legs giving way and in response he lifts you up, effortlessly brings you up to his height, it's natural for you to wrap your arms and legs around him, it makes you feel safe, you know that this way you can't fall. 

It feels romantic, sweet, more human than it was before. You turn to his face to savor that closeness, you don't think it would happen again, and you want to enjoy that moment. You wonder if by kissing him, he can prove something, if that love that you crave so much can really work, what you don't expect and that he gets closer, you feel the warmth that emanates. 

"Can I kiss you?" A shiver runs through you, did he really ask? You close your eyes softly and approach his lips, this is enough as an answer. 

"I understand..." He joins his lips to yours, his kiss is rich, passionate, so true... he kisses you again giving you a few moments to catch your breath, he feels perfectly when you are out of breath. 

You hold him with one hand, you want to continue that contact but you hear a voice approaching, you recognize it as Twilight's. He puts you down, you know he wouldn't show that soft in front of the team.

Twilight sees you next to Time, perfectly sees your embarrassment and blush in your cheeks, he smirks and turns to Time.

"It's all ready to go, but if you want another ten minutes I can come by later" he says winking at his leader.

"No, I've already done enough" he says giving you a caress on the lips, to then head towards Twilight and they waved you to go, but you was still in your dreamland.

-Next romantic date with Realm!!

[shallyne]

SJM Crackshipmonth: Fluff

Between Tents and Mosquitoes

Day nineteen of @sjmcrackshipmonth and today's ship is Feyre x Jurian.

Words: 830

TW: none

Feyre and Jurian go on a little camping trip

With a muttered curse, Feyre threw away the damn poles of the tent and flopped on the hard ground, cursing again. She watched videos about tents at home, before they left and even printed instructions for herself but she still managed to do something wrong. She groaned up at the afternoon sky, praying that her boyfriend wouldn't come back soon to see her like this.

Of course her prayer was ignored as she heard the heavy footsteps of Jurian and soon, he stood beside her, looking down at her. He knew this exact expression like she knew the backside of her hand. That asshole suppressed a laugh, amusement written on his face. "The whole forest could hear you cursing." he chuckled, shaking his head. "You scared the animals. Are you now finally accepting my help?"

Feyre narrowed her eyes and jumped up and pushed him to the side. "No." she said, gathering the poles that she had thrown away. She only needed to calm down and try again. Reading through her instructions again, she was fairly confident that the fourth try would be the lucky one. Now she would have no problems at all.

"You're so stubborn." Jurian said behind her, with no trace of judgment. "You know you don't have to be independent all the time."

As Feyre clicked the poles together, she held back the urge to roll her eyes. "I know how this is going to end. This is supposed to be a relaxing weekend, I will not talk about my mother. Or father. Or my sisters."

Jurian sighed, his shoes clicking on the ground as he, no doubt, bounced his knee up and down. Feyre knew this was a tic of his that he did when he was nervous or frustrated. Knowing that it couldn't be the former, Feyre almost snapped at him for being frustrated with her but…honestly, she got it. Feyre knew that she was carrying baggage from her childhood and she easily got irritated when someone tried to talk with her about it. Of all people, Jurian was the only person, besides Mor, that Feyre had the least problems with talking openly about it. But that didn't mean she didn't have any problems at all. Depending on the day, Feyre had a hard time opening up but she knew Jurian felt the same about his own childhood, that's why he was so understanding with her.

"You don't look relaxed at all." Jurian pointed out. Hissing at a very stubborn pole, Feyre turned around and slumped her shoulders.

"Better?"

"Not at all." Jurian replied, grinning. "Just let me help. I know you can do it but it will be quicker."

She looked down at the tent, then at Jurian, "Fine." she said. "Help."

Jurian smiled, wiping his hands on his pants and walked over to Feyre. "Take this." he told her, pressing the end of the pole in Feyre's hands and started weaving it through the sleeve of the tent. He did the same on the side and with the other, shorter, poles. "You need to slowly raise this pole," he told her, pointing to the middle one. Feyre nodded and did as he instructed. As she held, Jurian walked around the tent and fastened the tent to the ground, they repeated that a few times until the tent stood all on its own.

"You're good at this." Feyre said.

Jurian winked at her, "I already did this once or twice."

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "You could have started with that little piece of information."

He laughed, gathering the rainfly and draped it atop the tent. "I thought the picture of me and my father told you enough."

Feyre huffed, securing the rainfly on the back of the tent, Jurian doing the same on the front. "I know you were already camping but I didn't know you set up a tent on your own."

"I didn't," he replied. "But I helped my father." Together, they staked the remaining edges of the tent and secured the ropes. "Look, we did amazing!"

"We did." Feyre agreed, linking her arm with Jurian’s. "But I could have done it alone."

"I don't doubt it but I'd rather we finish this before nightfall," he said. Feyre slapped his arm, barely containing her smile. "Because I wanna show you something."

"What?" Feyre asked.

"You'll see."

They both put their backpacks in the tent and closed it. Jurian took Feyre's hand as they followed an overgrown dort path until they reached a cliff. Feyre gasped at the view, squeezing his hand, "I never saw something so beautiful!" she exclaimed as the sky got an orange tint as the sun started to set.

"Me neither." Jurian said. Feyre smiled up at him, realizing that Jurian already looked at her. She kissed him. Once, twice, then tugged on his hand. Together they sat there, watching the sunset as Feyre leaned her head on his shoulder.

She could get used to this

Taglist: @timesconvert

[antique-traveler]

crossroads

alright i've been kinda capital-D-depressed lately and the writing juices have not been flowing at all. i finally managed to scrape together some motivation today though and i just wanted to do a quick exercise to make sure my writing muscles don't atrophy completely, so i give you an angsty little half-character-study-half-prose... thing (feat. my love of robert johnson and old blues music).

673, T, no warnings

There’s a small, dangerous part of Matt that thinks maybe, maybe Foggy would be fine if he found out. He can hear Foggy’s heartbeat across their miniscule office and just barely imagine its pace staying exactly the same when Matt tells him about how he experiences the world. The voice in his head tells him that maybe Foggy would be impressed, maybe Matt wouldn’t lose the only best friend he’s ever had.

It’s the same voice that whispered to Matt at nine years old as he lay quietly crying in a hospital bed. Back then, the voice said that if Matt just prayed hard enough, if he just confessed directly to God every wrong thing he’s ever done, every stolen stick of gum and every copied piece of math homework, then maybe God would give him his sight back, or at least turn down the volume on the world.

It’s the same voice that echoed in his brain in eighth grade as it told him to just pray harder and maybe God would take away whatever it was that made Matt burn hot and stumble over his words when Andrew O’Neil grabbed his hand to pull him up after Cam Dillon and his gang of friends tripped Matt on his way to confession. 

Now the voice screams in his head to just tell Foggy. Rip the band-aid off quick, the longer you wait the worse it’ll be, and Matt has to resist slapping his hands over his ears to try and convince it to shut up.

The voice is always wrong. God didn’t give Matt his sight back. God didn’t make the world even the littlest bit quieter for him. God didn’t take away how Matt felt about the boys at school.

And God wouldn’t soften the blow of Matt’s secret once it came out. Nothing could couch the fact that Matt’s been lying to Foggy for years. Foggy, with his long pontifications about the right to privacy and due process of law, would never be able to see Matt’s abilities as anything less than an invasion, a subversion, a risk.

Matt knows every detail of Foggy’s life. He knows about the butcher shop, knows about Foggy’s anxiety, knows about the secret stash of fun-size candy bars that get him through days when the assholes at L&Z decide to take out all their problems on the two easy-target interns.

He knows about how fast Foggy’s heart beats when Matt touches him.

He knows that his heart beats just as fast when Foggy makes one of his offhand jokes about Matt being hot.

So maybe he has two secrets. 

The problem is though, that he can’t tell just one, can he? He couldn’t start something… more with Foggy and still hide his senses, and he couldn’t tell Foggy about his senses and trust that he wouldn’t make the connection between hearing heartbeats and hearing Foggy’s heartbeat.

So Matt stands at a crossroads, just like that old Robert Johnson song that his dad used to play for him on their cheap thrift store record player. Does he lay it all on the line, tell Foggy about his impressionist painting (less Edouard Manet, more Francis Bacon) and the rapid tattoo of both of their hearts when they stand too close, risk losing the only person who really knows him?

Or does he keep quiet? Bump into tables on purpose, make up excuses for his bloody knuckles and bruised cheek, pretend that all he wants from Foggy is friendship?

Matt stands at a crossroads and he falls down on his knees (falls down on his knees in front of a man’s body, his knuckles are bloody and the man’s jaw is broken, his knuckles are bloody and the man’s jaw is broken and his heart is pounding in his chest and he knows that tonight a little girl will sleep soundly for the first time in months) and he begs the voice in his head to please, for the love of God, give him some peace.

[cyberp-1-nk]

Okay so I got more of your requests and I am stoked! I have one or two more ideas...

So i'm pulling out an ancient ship that I somewhat miss. Anni and Jeff. The og ship.

So Could you do a bittersweet scenario where Jeff and Anni see each other after AGES. I hc that Jeff kinda just vanishes for a but and will randomly come back and Anni...well she's always busy. So they reunite after a long time and its sort of like deja vu. Anni doesn't even hesitate to hug him and Jeff kinda acts all "tough guy" but takes the hug and returns it and softens up a little.

Anni: "I missed you, you fugly asshole..."

Jeff: "You too, you little bastard."

and the rest is up to you and it can go on however you'd like, just thought i'd dig this old ship back up and revive it a little lol-

[ Reunion - Simp Party ]

Warnings; Slight mentions of Anni getting hurt from her and Kellin's mission.

Tags; @insane-horror-movie-addict

A/N; This takes place after your previous request, so it could technically be a part three lol. Jeff is always worrying about her.. this was kinda bad, lmk if u want a part two.

Word count; 1,372

Anni's neck throbbed from after a mission, but the painless medical ointment EJ had put on it eased her pain for only a little while. With her eyes closed, Anni could hear and feel her heart pounding in her ears. But miraculously, Anni picked up the sound of footsteps on the grass and looked up curiously. Someone began to practically stomp towards the manor, Anni looking over the side of her peripheral while narrowing her eyes. Kellin ripped open the door and she heard stray gasping coming from outside.

"I heard a gunshot…." Jeff's voice became audible from the outside, "What the hell? Why do you have blood all over you?" Anni's legs pushed her up out of the seat and she noticed the door was already open, half the hard work already done. Her wobbly legs stumbled down the stairs and she practically tripped, her hand reaching out and grabbing the doorframe at the last second. The brown eyes that occupied her face finally found Jeff in her tired gaze, Anni stumbling sideways against Kellin.

"You're back…" She breathed and Jeff's eyes narrowed as he saw the bright, white bandages wrapped around her neck,

"What the hell happened to you!?" He asked rather loudly, Kellin putting his hand up and standing in front of Anni defensively,

"Calm down now Jeff." Jeff only kept his eyes focused on Anni, concern and irritation washed over his face with his breathing slightly unsteady. Anni watched as his jaw muscles tightened and he gritted his teeth, now staring at Kellin with his eyes ready to kill. Kellin put his hands up with reason, "She was attacked while we were both on a missio…I got to her before things went sour. Now let's be civilized here and don't start shouting. I had the chance to properly clean her wounds." Kellin looked back at Anni and saw the fatigued, solemn look on her face. He sighed and nodded, "I'll give you two some privacy…" He brushed past Jeff, who stared Anni with nothing but a hard look. She could see the tension in the muscles of his face, as well as his thick set of shoulders. She wondered if he was mad at her personally, or if he was mad at himself. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Kellin put a hand on Fang's shoulder and they both walked into the other room, closing the door behind them.

Let the awkward silence begin.

"What the hell did you do? Goin' out by yourself without any protection at all, you tryin' to get yourself killed!?" His tone continued to voice his anger and she crossed her arms while looking at him; his blue eyes grew darker by the second,

"I didn't know that I was going to be attacked. Besides, I was on my way back to the mansion anyways."

"You're supposed to be ready for anything! You know… for some educated girl, you sure are stupid." By this time he began to slowly pace, chewing on the inside of his cheek anxiously. Anni sighed and put her hands down on the car behind her, leaning on the hood. Her arm and clothing were lightly covered with dry blood,

"Yeah I know… I wasn't expecting you to go off on another mission all over again, or I would've stayed here." She admitted and he stopped, watching her as she uncomfortably shifted on the seat, now sitting on it again. She leaned over her legs and clasped her hands together, "I don't even know why I was walking off away from here. It's just like my legs carried me without me knowing. I wasn't even paying attention and when I finally realized I was around them, I hid in a car and managed to kill one. But the other broke through the window and pulled on me. A big piece of glass from the window cut me open." She rubbed the bandages around her neck, feeling her wound pulse from her touch. Jeff's mood shifted and he calmed somewhat, but not completely. He walked up to her,

"You're not gonna be going off on your little depressed walks anymore, that's my only say on the matter. We can't be losing people no more and I can't be losing you either!"

The two only stared at each other in the moments of silence.

Jeff felt it was partly his fault for her being attacked. When he had decided to leave and go off for another mission, after what Kellin had told him, his mind was split in two. Pure instinct told him that he should go find Anni and he had felt completely uneasy as he walked to the forest, but he ignored it mostly. During that time, his mind told him that she wouldn't need him anyways and he should just keep at his long-distance missions and killing sprees. He felt bad, and he knew that the choice he had taken was wrong and could have very well been devastating if Kellin wouldn't have gotten there when he did.

"I'm sorry…" He heard her soft voice beat through the air and into his ears. His mind drained and he looked up to see her staring at the ground, her face glowing softly in the dull moonlight above them. She had a grave look on her face after she finally realized she could have died that night, easily because she couldn't protect herself without her weapons. Jeff huffed,

"No need to apologize anyways, it's over and done with, and you're alive, aren't you?" He asked, glancing over at her. She nodded and stepped onto the pavement below her, walking up to Jeff a bit wobbly. She smiled softly and looked up at him,

"I know you probably don't get this much… but I'm really glad I met you." She laughed to herself, looking shyly down at the ground. His eyes narrowed,

"Why? Just some asshole trying to survive like everyone else." She looked back up at him,

"Yeah, but… I'd be dead without you. And I wouldn't want to be in any other mansion but this." She saw the confusion and cloudiness in his eyes. He didn't know what to say, what to do, or react to the words that she had said to him. No one was nice to him and he could return with the same hate and anger that was thrown at him. But he was completely indifferent to the kindness, gentleness, charisma, and loyalty she had displayed towards him. She never got angry easily, at him for that matter and only showed her mental and emotional strength when times were tough. She didn't care much for herself or her safety; she only displayed compassion for others. But like him, he had nothing to lose and nothing much to fight for but survival.

He didn't understand why she was so interesting.

He was caught completely off guard as she walked up closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in with a soft, but tight grip. He had never been hugged in that manner before in his entire life. She rested her chin on his shoulder and took a breath, letting it out slowly as she took in his warmth. He didn't move and he looked down at her, not knowing what to do in the certain situation. Even though they had been through hell, her hair still smelt oddly sweet. He lightly flinched when she put her hand on the back of his head, but his muscles relaxed when he felt her soft hands run through his hair. She smiled when she could hear his heartbeat, and it was beating fast.

"Thank you for everything." Anni's arms around him tightened, pressing her head even closer to his bloodied chest, "I missed you, you fugly asshole." His expression was priceless, and he tried to suppress the giggle threatening to emerge from his throat. That didn’t stop him from grinning internally, even though he attempted to maintain his tough guy act.

"I missed you too, you little bastard." He sighed into the hug as he set his chin on top of her head, "Always have me worrying about you, damn it.'