#Deep Six Compilation

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

THE FIRST COMP IN THE "REALITY" SERIES TO BE RELEASED ON CD -- GET THIS IF YOU'RE ABLE TO.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on "REALITY" Part #2, the second in the "REALITY" series of compilations by the American grindcore/powerviolence/hardcore/ sludge/extreme music label, Deep Six Records, released in 1997 on both CD and 7 inch vinyl media formats.

All your mid to late '90s fucked-up favorites are on here, including:

ASSHOLE PARADE, EXCRUCIATING TERROR, DYSTOPIA, INFEST, DESPISE YOU, LACK OF INTEREST, GASP, SUPPRESSION, NOOTHGRUSH, NO COMPLY, PURGATORIA, MAN IS THE BASTARD, CAPITALI$T CASUALTIES, STAPLED SHUT, ENEMY SOIL, EVOLVED TO OBLITERATION, BAD ACID TRIO, & C:###.

Source: www.discogs.com/release/2810517-Various-Reality-Part-2

[writersdrug]

Bartender Simon and reader compilation of them having physical contact throughout the day? Like brushing fingers when handing off drinks, or him putting a hand on her hip in the walk as he says,” behind,” to stop her from freaking out as he grabs something overhead, etc .thank youuuuuuuuuu

You guys are making me jealous of reader I swear-

You're the one who starts this game, even if it's unintentional. You ask him for a pen one day, yours is empty and you've got a six top in the corner that's ready to order. He gives you one from the bar, and you tap his forearm twice. "Thanks, Simon!" You say, skipping of to your table.

Simon Simon Simon... he stares after you, replaying your voice and your touch in his mind. It's so nonchalant for you, but it's got him derailed from whatever he was doing. Oh, right. Bartending.

But he makes a point to make you understand what you're doing to him. You're punching in a payment at the POS when you suddenly feel a hand on your upper back, and you freeze.

"Behind ya." He mumbles, reaching over you and into the cabinet to grab a to-go box. "Sorry, stealin' your boxes. I'm out."

You feel his fingers slide across your back until they retreat, and it takes everything within you to suppress a shiver. You look back at him once he leaves, feeling your face heat up and your lips quiver. Behind the bar, there's a fresh stack of to-go boxes.

Sneaky bastard.

You get him back, though. On a busy night, you jog behind the bar, nearly colliding with Simon. He stills and raises his hands. "Careful, Christ-"

You worm your way past him, ever-so-slightly pressing against his front, giving him the perfect angle of your tits. He can't breathe as you wiggle through - the fabric of his shirt and yours do little to quell the blazing heat he feels from you.

"That soda gun's broken!" You call out, filling the two glasses in your hand with the gun at the opposite end of the bar. You then trot back over and squeeze by him again - this time, your ass barely graces his cock, and he swears it nearly leaps to life just to feel the brush of your backside. "Thanks!" You call over your shoulder, disappearing into the restaraunt.

Simon takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders, staring at the bartop and trying not to go feral. (You're making it very hard for him). He picks up the soda gun and pushes all of the buttons - they all work fucking fine.

Come the following week, Simon decides to be bold. You sit at the bar on a slow Tuesday evening, watching the game on the telly, occasionally reaching over the bar to snag a fry (they're Simon's, but he hasn't touched them in a while - they would get cold). Your two tables are talking amongst themselves, waiting for their food. You would glance back into the kitchen window and check the warmer for their orders, but so far, Soap's still working on them. So you relax, having nothing better to do.

You're hoisted out of the barstool when two, large, meaty hands grab you by the waist. You shriek, dropping your fry, grabbing onto Simon's forearms as he lifts you up and deposits you onto your feet.

"Stop eatin' my chips, stop slackin', n' go roll silverware." He grumbles - he gives you two, sharp pats on the small of your back, the tips of his fingers on the curve of your ass.

You can't find it in yourself to turn around and gripe with him. You can't even look at him. You scurry off and run upstairs in search of fresh napkins, face red as a tomato and your stomach fluttering nicely. This is normal, right? This is what waitressing lis like - flirtatious behavior everywhere, both giving and receiving. It doesn't mean anything. Right?

Simon chuckles. He'll take that as a win.

[luveline]

More spencer x hotch's sister? I love her relationship with hotch so much btw! Maybe spencer learns some of what she went through in her past?

“What did you get Haley for your six months?” you ask. 

Aaron shakes his basket of fries. You can smell them from your side of the table, salt and grease from the fryer. He doesn’t need to see you looking, maybe he doesn’t care that you want one or not, he tips half of the basket onto your plate and shrugs. “It was a long time ago, I’m not sure I remember. For our first year together I gave her a promise ring, I think.” 

“I don’t think I can get him a promise ring…” You swirl your drink with your straw. Fizzy bubbles rush to the surface. “A ring might be nice, though. Can he wear jewellery in the field?” 

“One nondescript ring would be fine.” 

“Maybe a necklace.” You stab a few of his given fries on your fork and smile. “I’m very stressed, but he’s been so kind the whole time. He never makes me worry about anything.” 

“Spencer is kind.” Aaron glances to the side as a couple sits in the booth opposite. “Admittedly, I was worried. But you’re happy, so I’m happy.” 

“Six months is a long time for no fights.” 

“Honey, some people don’t fight.” 

You toy with a stray piece of lettuce. “I’m really glad that we don’t, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“It won’t drop. You think I’d let you date Spencer if I suspected he was secretly evil?” 

“There are a few things wrong with that question…” You wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Okay, it won’t drop. Can we get, um, dessert? Rocky road sundaes?” They’re Aaron’s favourite, so they’re yours, too. 

Despite his assurances, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You think about your conversation with Aaron for the days leading up to your six month anniversary with Spencer, which he aptly names your ‘half anniversary’. He doesn’t plan any surprises —he sends you a PDF with different options for everything. Five different restaurants with different options for courses, moods, and settings. There are notes for each place and why you might like them, and there are activities for each one afterwards based on the location. It’s so thoughtful it makes you feel sick. The other shoe looms, and looms. 

You choose a smaller restaurant just outside of the busy city, with a beautiful outdoor eating area on a stone veranda. It’s lively but not crowded, secluded but not completely private. 

Spencer tucks your seat in, and he kisses your cheek before he takes his own. When he does, he looks across the table at you, and says, “Wow, you’re so pretty.” 

“You think so?” 

“You’re beautiful.” He gives you one of his not so shy, almost cheesy smiles, like he wants to laugh. “Do you want your gift now or later?” 

“Is it rude to say I want it now?” 

“No, it’s not rude. I’ll feel better once I know you like it.” 

He presents you with a box wrapped in dark blue crepe paper and rounded silver star stickers. There’s twine wrapped around it and bowed, too beautiful to want to open. You look between him and the present in awe. “This is real pretty,” you say softly. 

“It’s nicer inside,” he says. 

You unravel the twin carefully, and you take off the paper to reveal a large, flat box. You put the paper in your jacket pocket, folded primly to keep. Spencer waits patiently. 

You press your thumbnail into the box’s seam and push. 

It’s four pieces of jewellery. What catches your eye first is the sapphires, blue crystal with deep dark hearts pressed into the pendant of a necklace, the heart of a bracelet, and the main bodies of their matching earrings. All simple, elegant pieces, and compiled, their impressiveness is amplified. Your breath catches. You don’t need to be an expert in jewellery to immediately assign a ballpark price tag, and it’s a lot. It’s sort of startling. 

But the price doesn’t matter half as much as the sentiment. 

“Do you remember them?” he asks softly. 

Fourth date. Hand in hand, you and Spencer walked through a shopping centre with iced drinks and churros, and you’d paused for a few seconds to ogle the jewellery display. You’d pointed straight at the sapphire bracelet and said, “That’s gorgeous. I think if I save, I can get it for Christmas.” 

“I know it’s not Christmas,” Spencer says, “I’m sorry, I cheated. But I hope you like them.” 

“Spencer, I love them, I love them,” —you reach your hand across the table— “I love you. Thank you.” 

He smiles at you. “Yeah, I love you, too.” 

You can’t stop yourself from getting up to hug him. He bends under your weight and holds your arms, doesn’t wince when you press the entirety of your face to his hair and breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, kissing his forehead twice, “thank you, I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He takes your face into his hand before you can leave. “You like them?” he asks. 

“I love them.” 

His smile is everything. “I really did cheat, I wrote it down when we got home and you know I can’t forget the things I read,” he murmurs, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Six months later and your heart still skips a beat. Doesn’t matter that he has an eidetic memory, what’s important is that he wrote it down. 

You take another hug, to his delight, and return to your seat. Your presents wait in a bag under the table. Two books, one jewellery box. He goes for the smaller box first. 

“It’s a ring,” you say, too nervous to let him discover it by himself. “I know you don’t often wear them, but I thought maybe it’s because it’s not something you’d get for yourself, and I think it would look good on you.” 

He opens the box with a smile. So pretty, and exuberantly bright. “Oh, wow.” 

“I don’t know if brands mean anything to you, but it’s Vivienne–”

“It’s beautiful,” he interrupts, “I love it. What finger do I wear it on?” 

“Most wear it on their marriage finger, I think, but you obviously don’t have to do that.” 

He slips it onto his ring finger, turns his hand one way and another, and there’s this joy that echoes all the way across the table from his very core. “Thank you. I love it, and now every time I look down I'll remember why you gave it to me.” 

You spend a lot of time apart, what with both of you working. “I thought that, too.” 

He takes the books next. His laugh is soft. “I’m not surprised.” 

“They’re… they’re my personal copies.” 

He startles at that. “They are?” 

“Yeah. Uh,” —you point at the first— “that’s my favourite, and I think it could be your favourite too.” 

“And this one?” he asks gently, slipping the first underneath the second. 

“Aaron gave that one to me. I know what you’re thinking, okay, that I’m giving something to you I should really keep. Maybe it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t know, but I love you.” You lick your lips. “It’s nice to fall in love. And you’ve made it so easy.” 

He stares at you, lips parted. 

You panic. “It was hard, growing up, and I know everyone struggles but it was hard. If it weren’t for my brother… I feel like it sticks to me and you’ve never made me feel that way. You love me for me. I was convinced nobody would ever do that.” 

“I know it was hard,” he says. 

“Really hard, sometimes, but you aren’t. I’m never scared of you.” 

He reaches across the table to touch your hand. “You aren’t supposed to be scared of anyone, angel.”

Warmth blossoms under his touch. You shake off the fog. “It’s not just about all of that, I swear, I really do think you’ll like them. But if I got it all wrong just lie to me, okay?” 

“You didn’t get anything wrong, shut up,” he says. Spencer stands, his turn to hug you, but he goes about it differently. He tips your head back and he kisses you, and his nose is a pressed line in your cheek as he squeezes you to him. “I’d be surprised if anybody who’s ever met you didn’t love you. Okay? Thank you for trusting me with it.” 

It, and not them, not the books. 

He peels away. You beam at one another. 

“Should we eat?” you ask, feeling pleased and shy at once. 

He kisses you again, one quick peck. “Yes, we can eat.”

[pinkslipxox]

could you do a fic like a compilation when Billie have spoke about her kids (the twins) in an interview

hola mi amor! I did a compilation of Billie talking about her twins from newborns to two year olds, hope you like it 😘🥰

——————————————————————————

Newborns:

The bright studio lights shone on Billie Eilish, her usual edgy style softened by a gentle, almost ethereal glow. She sat poised and composed, yet a nervous energy thrummed beneath the surface, a quiet anticipation in the way she clasped her hands. The interviewer, a seasoned professional, leaned forward, his voice a smooth baritone.

"Billie," he began, "you've always been very private about your personal life. But recently, you've become a mother. Can you share a little bit about that experience?"

Billie paused, a soft smile gracing her lips. The usual enigmatic aura that surrounded her seemed to dissipate, replaced by a radiant warmth. "It's… overwhelming," she confessed, her voice soft and tinged with emotion. "In the best possible way."

She spoke about Ava and Mia, her twin daughters, her words filled with a quiet reverence. "They're… amazing. Tiny little humans, full of so much life and energy. Ava's a little more serious, always observing. Mia’s a bit more mischievous, always smiling." A genuine laugh, light and airy, escaped her lips.

The interviewer nodded, encouraging her to continue.

Billie continued, her eyes glistening slightly. "It's changed everything," she said, her voice catching slightly. "My perspective, my priorities… everything. It's hard to explain. It's just… unconditional love. Pure, unadulterated love."

She paused, taking a deep breath, her usual composure momentarily faltering. "And Y/N…" she began, her voice softening even further. "My wife… she's incredible. She's the strongest person I know. She's been amazing through all of this." Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped away a stray tear. "She's my rock, my everything. I don’t know what I would do without her."

***

Six Months Old:

"Billie," the interviewer began, poised and ready, "you've become a mother of twins! How's that changed your world?”

Billie smiled, a genuine, heart-warming smile that reached her eyes. "It's… chaotic," she admitted, her voice soft and warm. "Pure, beautiful chaos. But the best kind of chaos." She paused, her fingers gently tracing a small, barely-there ring on her left hand.

"They're six months old now, Ava and Mia," she continued, her voice filled with a quiet pride. "And they’re already so different. Ava's a little more serious, very observant. She’ll just stare at you intensely, like she's figuring out your whole life story. Mia, on the other hand… well, Mia's a little comedian."

A soft laugh escaped her lips, a sound both light and happy. "The other day," she recounted, her eyes twinkling, "we were trying to give them a bath. It’s always a bit of a production, right? Lots of screaming and splashing. Well, Mia, in the midst of all the chaos, managed to grab a rubber ducky and completely submerge it in the soapy water, then proceed to drink the soapy water from the duck’s little mouth. It was absolutely disgusting, but also… hilarious."

Billie chuckled again, her shoulders shaking with laughter. The studio audience mirrored her amusement, their laughter a ripple of shared joy.

"Y/N and I just looked at each other," Billie recounted, "and started laughing. It was utter mayhem, but it was also pure, unadulterated joy. It’s moments like that, the messy, crazy moments, that I treasure the most. It's the stuff that makes the everyday incredible."

She paused, her expression softening. "They’re my whole world. Y/N and I, we’re learning as we go, but the love… it’s something I never knew existed, you know? It’s overwhelming, but in the best possible way. I never thought I could feel this much love for anyone or anything."

***

1 Year Olds:

Billie sat comfortably, radiating a quiet contentment that was far removed from her sometimes enigmatic public persona. The interviewer, a seasoned professional, smiled warmly.

"Billie," he began, "Happy belated birthday to your twin daughters! Ava and Mia just turned one."

Billie's face lit up. "Thank you!" she replied, her voice soft and full of warmth. "It was such a special day." She paused, a wistful smile playing on her lips. "It’s hard to believe they’re already a year old. It feels like just yesterday we were bringing them home from the hospital."

She launched into a description of Ava and Mia’s first birthday party, her voice brimming with affection. "We kept it pretty small," she explained. "Just close family and friends. Y/N and I planned everything together – it was a real team effort." A soft blush colored her cheeks as she mentioned her wife.

"We had a little 'twins' theme," she continued, her eyes sparkling. "We made sure there were plenty of toys, soft blankets and lots of delicious, baby-friendly food. Ava and Mia mostly just stared at everything with wide eyes. Ava seemed fascinated by the balloons. Mia mostly wanted to try and eat everything, even the flowers!" She chuckled, a warm, melodic sound that filled the studio.

"The cake," she said, her voice softening, "was the best part. A double-decker, each layer decorated differently. We had a little photoshoot, but they were more interested in grabbing the frosting!"

Billie's voice took on a sweeter tone as she recounted a particular moment. "Y/N captured this amazing picture of Ava reaching out and grabbing Mia's hand. It was so pure and sweet, it made me cry." Her usual guarded demeanor was gone; in its place, a tender and profoundly loving mother glowed through. "It was a really special moment. It perfectly captured the essence of what having twins is like – this beautiful, messy, and chaotic love."

The interviewer nodded, his gaze gentle and understanding.

Billie concluded with a soft sigh, a faraway look in her eyes. "It was the most perfect day. Being able to celebrate our beautiful girls with the people we love, all under one roof… it doesn't get much better than that."

***

18 Months Old:

The gently slow radiating off Billie was palpable. Gone was the usual edgy attire; she was dressed in something soft and comfortable, her hair pulled back in a simple style. She looked relaxed, content, and utterly radiant. The interviewer smiled warmly.

"Billie," he began, "your twin daughters, Ava and Mia, are about to turn two. Can you believe it?"

Billie's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of disbelief and wonder in their depths. "I can't," she breathed, her voice hushed with emotion. "It feels like just yesterday they were tiny newborns. Now they're running around, exploring the world, getting into everything!" A gentle laugh escaped her lips, a sound full of love and wonder.

She described Ava and Mia's personalities, her voice soft and tender. "Ava is still our little observer. She's so thoughtful, always watching, taking everything in. Mia… well, Mia is still our little comedian. She's always cracking us up, getting into mischief. She just loves making faces and being silly!"

The interviewer nodded, prompting her to continue.

Billie's gaze softened as she talked about her wife, Y/N. "Y/N is incredible," she said, her voice filled with reverence and love. "As a partner, she's my rock. She’s my best friend, my confidante, my everything. And as a mother? She’s simply extraordinary. She’s so patient, so loving, so incredibly strong. Seeing her with Ava and Mia fills my heart with so much joy. She’s an amazing mother. I’m so lucky to have her."

Billie’s usual guarded demeanor seemed to completely melt away. She spoke with such genuine warmth and affection, a tenderness that radiated through the studio. Her eyes shone with a soft glow, conveying a depth of emotion rarely glimpsed in her public appearances.

"These past eighteen months have been the most challenging, yet most rewarding of my life," she confessed. "There are moments of utter exhaustion, moments of frustration, moments where I feel completely overwhelmed. But there are so many moments of pure, unadulterated joy that make it all worthwhile. Every tiny milestone, every giggle, every cuddle… it's all worth it. They’re perfect, both of them."

***

2 Years Old:

The interviewer smiled softly. “Billie," he started, "your twin daughters, Ava and Mia, just turned two. What’s that like?"

Billie smiled, a genuine, heartwarming smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "It's…intense," she admitted, her voice soft and warm. "The terrible twos are definitely living up to their name! It's a rollercoaster of emotions – pure joy, utter chaos, and everything in between. But seeing them reach these milestones is so incredible, it makes all the challenges worth it."

She recounted a recent moment with a proud chuckle. "Just yesterday, Ava finally figured out how to stack her blocks. She was so proud of herself, and watching her tiny face light up with accomplishment melted my heart. And Mia? Oh, Mia finally mastered walking backwards. She thinks it's the funniest thing ever." She shook her head, a mixture of amusement and love in her eyes.

The interviewer nodded, encouraging her to continue.

Billie's gaze softened as she turned to talk about her wife, Y/N. "Y/N is my hero," she said, her voice filled with deep admiration. "She's so amazing with them. She’s the calm amidst the storm. Seriously, I don’t know what I’d do without her. We’re a team, a real partnership. Y/N is not just an incredible mother, but also my best friend and my greatest source of support. Watching her navigate motherhood with such grace and patience is truly inspiring. She's just incredible."

She paused, reflecting for a moment. "Motherhood is the most challenging and rewarding experience of my life. It's exhausting, messy, and frequently overwhelming. But there's this unbelievable joy, this unbreakable bond, that makes it all worthwhile. Ava and Mia are teaching me so much about love, patience, and resilience. It's beautiful, really."

A gentle tear escaped her eye, and she quickly brushed it away with a self-deprecating smile. "I’m a mess, aren't I?" she whispered. But there was no embarrassment, only a profound and beautiful vulnerability, a testament to the overwhelming love she felt for her family. The interview became less of a professional engagement and more a tender sharing of her life's most profound joys, a heart-warming glimpse into the life of a devoted mother and wife, blissfully in love with her family.

[reicchel]

Hello from Reichel and Buri ( @demonslayedher )! This is going to be another multi-part, tag-team post to finally encapsulate our KnY-focused missions together last month. We’ve finally compiled everything about our biggest mission: Universal Studios Japan and their Kimetsu no Yaiba events!

Last year I went to Japan for the first time. It was a guided tour through Tokyo (and other countries in South Asia) because I was afraid to venture out on my own. But since I would already be on the other side of the world, I arranged a little detour to Osaka to meet Buri. We didn't get much time together, but we did make the most of it.

I went to Universal Studios Japan on Friday while she was working, because I had wanted to visit Super Nintendo World ever since it opened. I had a blast, and the best was that I got to meet Princess Peach and take a picture with her.

But deep within my heart, I was also sad that the Kimetsu no Yaiba ride and restaurant had ended a long time before I arrived. Then, shortly after I came back to my country, it was announced that they would be running again for a couple of months in 2024. 

I was SO tempted to go back in April and celebrate my birthday in Japan, but Buriko was going to be on this side of the pond and also… going back to Japan in less than six months didn’t seem like the most sensible thing for my wallet.

But! Then after some time… a new KnY event at USJ was announced! The theme was the Swordsmith Village (yeah, I know, that was so last year) and it would be running from July 19, 2024 to January 5, 2025, a wider window of time to plan a trip. I talked to Buri and she was up for it, so we looked for a time when she wouldn’t be as busy with work so we could go together and have a KnY special day at USJ. (The whole trip would be very KnY-focused, since that’s what brought us together, but it wouldn’t be limited to that, and she was so very kind to host me for the time I was visiting).

The first thing after getting my plane tickets was to set the date for our USJ visit. Even though we’d have a whole day at the park, riding the XR Ride was the priority, of course (and checking out the exclusive merch), so we decided to get a fast pass that also included an entry to the restaurant without making a line and the new Kny-themed popcorn bucket. So, with our entry tickets and our fast passes secured, we only had to wait for the day to come.

[valsverse]

"love is homemade."

summary: after a long study session at the library, you find yourself feeling absolutely exhausted. thankfully, your loving boyfriend comes to the rescue by.. baking cupcakes?

pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: a little profanity, but that's about it.

you stumbled your way to the door of your apartment, your tired eyes struggling to differentiate between the numerous keys on your keychain. you tried each one in turn, only to find that none of them worked. with each passing moment, your frustration grew, and you couldn't help but curse under your breath at the inconvenience of it all.

after a grueling study session at the library, your mind was still buzzing with facts and figures about the "wonders" of biology, making it difficult to focus on anything else. all you wanted was to collapse into your bed and sleep off the exhaustion of the day. you're about to test another key when something pulls you out of your daze.

a familiar line from one of your favorite songs, playing softly, but surely coming from inside your apartment. it was the same song you recently added to the shared playlist that you and percy had compiled over the years. as you place your ear next to the door, you could also hear the unmistakable sound of pots and pans clanging together, alongside another noise that you couldn't quite identify.

your mind starts racing for an explanation. you hadn't invited anyone over.. and the only one who has the keys to your apartment.. is percy.

you step back for a second, processing this information, and start testing the keys again, this time with more care and caution. after several attempts, one key finally clicks into place. you let out a sigh of relief before slowly pushing open the door, bracing yourself for what you might find on the other side.

despite your best efforts to minimize any noise, the door lets out a loud, grating creak that makes you cringe. you quickly regain your composure, scanning your apartment. as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you took in the scene unfolding before you.

there, in the kitchen, was percy, stumbling around the counters in a chaotic but endearing way, surrounded by a mess of ingredients and utensils. despite the chaos, the air was filled with the delicious aroma of your favorite cupcakes. your shared playlist was playing softly in the background, accompanied by the ticking of your oven. you took in a deep breath, savoring the scent of the cupcakes and smiling at the unexpected surprise. any fatigue you had beforehand was slowly being washed away.

percy, however, seemed to be unaware of your presence until you took a step forward, making your appearance known. he stumbled backward, causing a cacophony of clattering pots and pans. his comically wide eyes met yours, clearly surprised to see you there. you got a good look at his face now, which was smudged with frosting, making him look like an overgrown child.

"why are you here?!" he whisper-shouted, even though it was only the two of you in the apartment. he quickly made his way towards you, wiping his hands on a rag that was on the counter.

"'cause it's my apartment?" you respond, shrugging off your coat.

"oh, let me get that for you," he quickly offers, taking your coat and hanging it on the rack. "but i thought you weren't supposed to be back until six?

"yeah, it's almost seven."

percy looks at you, then at the clock, and swears under his breath.

"now about that," you gesture towards the kitchen and the mess that was waiting for you. he followed your gaze and seemed to just now realize the destruction that he had caused. despite the chaos, he offers you a smile, clearly proud of his efforts. "just wanted to surprise you. knew you'd be tired after studying." he explained.

"but why?"

"'cause i love you?" he responded, shrugging nonchalantly. you didn't say anything for a moment, but a small smile began to form on your lips.

"well, thanks, but maybe next time don't destroy my kitchen?" you tease, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"yeah, i'll keep that in mind," he promises, still beaming from your earlier compliment. he leans in to give you a big smooch, but you lean back, causing him to frown.

"i did all this hard work and i can't even get a kiss?" he asks, his tone playful but with a hint of disappointment.

"you have frosting all over your face," you point out, trying to hold back a laugh. his pout only got wider.

"well, you're gonna be kissing my lips, not my face, so i don't see why it matters," percy retorts. "now c'mere."

he gives you a second to pull away, and then captures your lips in a giddy kiss. you laugh against his lips, a little surprised at his eagerness, but you don't stop him.

he kisses you repeatedly, savoring the taste of your lip balm and reveling in your embrace until he finally rests his forehead against yours when he's satisfied. you both stand there, holding each other close, lost in the moment and not exchanging any words for a while.

suddenly, he jumps back as if just remembering something. "SHIT, THE CUPCAKES!" he exclaims, causing you to flinch at his sudden outburst, but he quickly corrects himself after seeing your reaction and repeats in a softer tone, "i meant, shit, the cupcakes," before scrambling back to the oven.

you watch him as he rushes around the kitchen, checking on the cupcakes, making sure they're not burnt. he turns around to face you, his sheepish grin apologizing for the sudden outburst. "sorry about that," he says, wiping his face with a nearby towel to remove any frosting leftover.

"it's fine," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. as you walk into the kitchen, you take in your surroundings. various pipettes are scattered on the counter, bowls filled with frosting are placed haphazardly, and suspiciously shaped finger swipes are evident on them. "guess we should wait for them to cool down?" you suggest, and percy nods in agreement, pointing to a sticky note hung up on the cabinet. "that's what the recipe says too," he confirms. you immediately recognize the recipe as sally jackson's, thanks to the familiar handwriting. percy must have called her today just for this occasion.

you get pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of the sink turning on. "i'm gonna clean up here, for using your kitchen and stuff," percy announces, gathering a bunch of used spatulas and bowls. "you can relax on the couch, ill be done soon." he offers you a warm smile.

despite his offer, you don't want to relax on the couch. instead, you want to spend time with him. especially since he did all of this for you. "well, it's quicker to clean with two people, right?" you suggest.

after a few hours, the kitchen is sparkling clean, your exhaustion has vanished, and you and percy have just put the finishing touches on the cupcakes.

you're now both sitting on your comfortable couch, each about to enjoy your creations. percy has his arm around you, drawing you closer to him, and you feel safe and content in his embrace.

"whatcha doin'?" percy asks as he observes you meticulously removing the bottom of your cupcake and placing it on top.

"cupcake sandwich," you respond with a smile, holding your completed creation up for him to see.

after a brief moment of contemplation, percy quickly copies your movements and crafts his own "cupcake sandwich." he clinks his cupcake with yours once he's done, as if making a toast, and you both bite into the sugary treat simultaneously.

while it doesn't alter the flavor, the whole cupcake sandwich method is undoubtedly the superior way to enjoy a cupcake, as percy now realizes. the cupcakes may not be perfect, but as they say, love is homemade, and you'd much rather have a cupcake baked with love than one purchased for $1.99 at the supermarket.

"by the way," you remark, pointing at percy's face, which is smudged with frosting from eating, just like when you first caught him, "you still have frosting on your face."

"shit."

a/n

i feel like my writing has declined lmaoo. break is over tho! but updates will be inconsistent since classes are kicking my ass rn. i hate school, i'm sorry malala.

xx, val.

[nectardaddy]

oh captain, my captain | single dad! meian x teacher f! reader notes: yes the math is mine :), this is the cutest thing I've written in my life, trying out drabbles more bear with me, everyone thank @nekozaki for hyping me up <33

The woman took a long, deep breath as she sat back against the chair she occupied. It was almost six-thirty, close to dinner, and papers and pencils scattered the table in front of her. She knew she had to clean it up soon, but felt the motivation slowly drift from her body at the very thought of it.

“You look tired.” The low voice that sounded next to her pulled her from her thoughts, or lack thereof, and her eyes flickered over. She was met with a familiar face and dark green eyes, a tall man that seemingly towered over her as she stayed seated. But she gave him a soft smile regardless of the difference. He dressed comfortably, sweatpants and an MSBY t-shirt, juxtaposing her own semi-professional attire from work - which he offered her clothes time and time again.

“I am tired.” She groaned and let her eyes drag down him as he took a seat next to her; watched as his eyes flicked to his daughter - who now sat on the couch in the far corner of the room, crayons and paper in hand - and back to her. She felt her breath hitch in her throat a moment when his eyes locked with her own, an intensity in them she believed she would never get used to.

“You didn’t have to help her tonight, y’know?” Asked rhetorically through a small smile. It wasn’t out of the norm for her to help the man's daughter when she was over, frankly, it was out of character if she didn't. A hushed relationship between the two, oftentimes coming and going from each other's homes, that always involved the rowdiness that the smallest Meian - whom she adored - always gave. “You do that enough during the day, take a break.”

“Well, she asked,” spoken nonchalantly with a shrug. “Who am I to tell a girl who wants to learn no?” The woman returned the smile, yet let out a breathy laugh upon thinking of the man trying to help the girl himself. Second grade math, although incredibly easy to an adult, was the hardest thing ever to a small child. It was even harder to explain a concept one knew for years, memorized through mental math and countless practice, to a seven year old that had no clue where to start. “Besides, when was the last time you did division like this, anyway?”

He scoffed while he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a small breath. “I know how to divide, thanks.” His tone was riddled with sarcasm, but a smile still fought its way on his lips. A cheeky undertone that made a silly smile appear on her features. The man had a way with his words that made her stomach so flips; she would never get used to that either.

“Long divide, too? When’s the last time you did that?”

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t think I know how to long divide?”

She chuckled at his reaction and watched as the smallest of pouts formed on his lips at her laughter. But his lack of a straight answer was an answer in itself. “I know you don’t.”

A breath of air passed through her nose as she heard a dramatic sigh leave him. “Ye of little faith,” he groaned. “Give me the paper.” He sat up a little straighter in his chair, a little more defensive as he motioned for her to slide the paper her and his daughter had been working on earlier - the man's folly was never being able to decline a challenge, no matter how small.

With a chuckle, she compiled and passed him the paper - littered with scrawled handwriting and her own in pen. “Give it a shot, babe.” She let a laugh bubble out as she gave him a pen, “I'll even let you use my good pen.” To which he shot her a dry look, and it only made her laugh more. “You still haven’t answered my question though. When’s the last time you did long division?”

His eyes cast downward, looking at the paper before narrowing his eyes - she could tell he had no idea what he was looking at. But if it was one thing Meian Shūgo was not, it was a quitter. “Can you ever forget how?” A subtle sentiment to try and cover up his own lack of remembrance as he rewrote a problem.

“If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

He lifted his eyes to look over at her and paused, an exasperated expression on his face with his brows scrunched. “I can’t believe you just used a teacher quote on me.”

She stifled another laugh before shifting her chair closer to him. It was closeness that felt right with her, an ease to it that felt natural - like home. So she didn't mind when her arm brushed his own as she looked down at the paper, and didn't mind the warmth he gave off despite a cool house. “And I can’t believe you put the numbers in the wrong place.” A quick retort laced with sass, “can a big number go into a small number?”

He rolled his eyes once again, but felt a smile creep up to him at her reply. This was a usual back and forth they found themselves in, no matter the topic or time of day, countering each other with insincere jabs. Always competing for who exactly was better at their retorts - he would never admit it, but he knew she always won by a landslide. “Don’t be a smartass.”

His words landed a little too loud, and she watched his eyes widen just before he turned to the couch where his daughter, Himawari, sat. Coloring to her heart's content, but always listening whether the pair at the table were aware or not. “Don’t repeat that.” The girl didn't look up from her drawing but giggled in response before a small ‘ok’ followed.

The snort that came from the woman beside him made him turn his attention back. But his gaze lingered, settled on the woman beside him as all he could do was stare for a moment - to appreciate. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the paper in front of him, and she looked at him softly. There was a care within her eyes, mingled with playfulness, that made his heart warm, and he smiled when he finally chose to look back down at the paper.

“If you don’t remember how, it’s fine, y’know?” She tossed the cheeky sentiment in the air with a hum followed by a chuckle, pushing him further into wanting to do it (and hopefully do it right as a cherry on top.)

He let out a breathy laugh as he continued to work on the problem. “I know how to long divide.” A faux confidence dripped with every word, and he hoped it would be enough to convince her - it was not.

“Ok,” she shrugged with a smile. There was something toyish about the way she spoke, like he didn't believe him; hell, he didn't even believe himself as the number in front of him seemed to blur together. “Is that why you're short dividing then? Because you're so good at long division?”

He couldn't help the laugh that left his lips, and couldn't help but put the pencil down and silently admit he had been bested by second grade math as he did. “God,” spoken through a laugh as he flicked his eyes over to her. “What the hell is short division? Am I that bad at this?”

There was a moment of pause, where his laughter settled as they both looked at one another. Her eyes flicked between his own, searching for a sense of insincerity in his words, and she covered her mouth with a hand to stifle the loud laugh that wanted to leave upon realizing he was serious. “Oh my god-”

He found himself laughing with her, despite the fact she was laughing at him, and felt content with the feeling regardless. There was something mundane about laughing together, but it was a simple enough action that made his heart feel like putty - putty that was in her hands, and he knew for a fact it would forever stay that way.

“The answer is twelve, by the way,” she spoke through giggles.

“Thanks, I thought it was ten.”

taglist (open, send as ask)

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks 

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @aozui 

@jadeoru @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @sandwhitches 

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ under the desk support during suika ]❜

ft. vezalius bandage x gn! reader — krisis, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ giving zali under the desk support while he’s doing an endurance suika stream because it’s been nine hours and you want attention┊0.9k words

contains: smut!! dom to sub reader & sub to dom vezalius┊established relationship (reader is also a vutber but their relationship is secret), under the desk blow-jobs while he’s streaming, bratting/brat-taming, hair-pulling, facefucking, swallowing

➤ author's note: in honor of zali finally getting double suika, ignore how it has like the exact same ending as my most previous vox fic i couldn’t think of anything and i'm so goddamn tired

endurance streams for longer games like resident evil or the quarry are understandable, but how has he not gone mad from the repetitive music playing in his headphones and the colorful eye-straining pixelated fruits that he’s been staring at for the past nine hours? he was already playing for quite a while when you started streaming for six hours (which is pretty much an endurance stream itself) and when you finished up then picked someone to raid, he was still going strong. zali was utterly addicted to the grind of getting double watermelons suika and there was nothing stopping him.

he was so concentrated that he didn’t even notice you walk in, just humming along to the theme song and happily commenting to his chat— god, he was so cute with that determined glint in his eyes as he silently muttered curses at the peaches that refused to touch. you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and gave him a little peck on the cheek, returning the smile he gave you but still wanting to steal more of his attention.

you bit the inside of your mouth before smirking as a mischievous idea came to mind, making your way to situate yourself underneath his desk— kneeling in between his legs and beginning to trace an outline on his pants, knowing that he has so much pent-up frustration from the game not going how he wanted it do.

panic settled it and your partner blushed scarlet red, quickly muting himself on stream before turning all of his attention on you. “i-i’m streaming!” he sputtered, “we can’t do this now!”

“i’m bored, it’s been more than half the day!” you pouted, “i’ll be nice and quiet, okay? i promise.”

zali sucked in his breath and considered his options that both had the possible consequence of getting caught because he knew damn well that you were too stubborn to budge and ending the stream so suddenly would lead to fans getting suspicious. after a few seconds of compilation, he nodded and reminded you just not to make a sound. it’s not like the thrill and your enthusiasm wasn’t enough to give him a raging hard-on in the middle of gaming.

and so his stream continued with the lie that he was responding to a message while you sneakily pulled down his belt to expose his erection to the cold air. you rested your hands on his thighs to keep his legs open for your own easy access, experimentally giving his cock a kiss and watching pre-cum beginning to dribble out from the tip.

you were slow with the intent of teasing him, running your tongue along his shaft and inaudibly giggled when you saw him clench his jaw. taking his shaft past your lips from the tip to the base, being as quiet as a mouse just like you promised with the exception of the muffled sound of sex coming from his dick covered in wet heat. watching him take deep breaths before laughing it off with his audience as just frustration about how the game wasn’t going his way was so amusing, especially with how his model couldn’t capture the look of poorly-contained lust in his golden eyes— it was a sight that only you could see past your lidded eyelids and it had heat blooming from your core to drip through your underwear.

with every click of his mouse and every second that past, zali would feel his resolve beginning to crumble. he didn’t trust himself to say another word into his microphone without groaning, not quite sure if you were testing his acting skills to stay silent or only focusing on making him finish in your mouth. suika was a simple game that only really needed strategic planning, but his breathing became ragged as if he was playing a game that required movement like virtual reality.

he waited until encountering the all so familiar ‘game over’ before clearing his throat and smiling, “ah… so sorry guys… i completely lost track of time, it looks like i need to be somewhere right now…” he said his goodbyes to his understandingly confused but understanding fans and ended his very long stream, not bothering to raid another talent nor switching settings to thank everyone for watching nor putting on the ending screen because he only had one on his mind in the moment.

now that he didn’t need to worry about the audience that would possibly pick up on your antics, he danced his lithe fingers between the strands of your hair before roughly slamming the head of his cock deeper into your mouth and making it hit the back of your throat, freely being as loud as he liked without fear while you choked around his member.

he dragged your mouth along his length and essentially used you as a living fleshlight to get him off with how rough he was being, not giving you a moment to breathe or to rest until you finally tasted tasted his thick seed shoot out on your tongue a couple of seconds later. his grip on your locks loosed and allowed you to finally disconnect yourself from him after swallowing, feeling proud of yourself to being able to pull your addicted lover from the computer after so many hours.

before you could even bask in your little victory, zali bent at the waist to quickly snatch you off the carpeted floor to make you cradle his lap. “did you really think you could put me in such a situation and not get in trouble, lovely? i wonder how i should punish you…”

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

FIILE UNDER: '90s UNDERGROUND, DEEP SIX RECORDS, COMPILATIONS, GRAPHIC DESIGN, EXYREME MUSIC, '90s MUSIC, ETC...

PIC(S) INFO: Mega spotlight on sleeve art to "REALITY" Part #2 and Part #3, the second and third installments in the "REALITY" series of compilations by the American grindcore/ powerviolence/hardcore/ sludge/extreme music label, Deep Six Records, released in 1997 and 1999 respectively on both CD and 7 inch vinyl media formats.

Source: https://bloggedquartered.blogspot.com/2017/03/american-powerviolence-from-west-to-rest.html.

[draculasfavoritewife]

One Taste

Summary: You've always known there was more to your pale elf companion than meets the eye -- what kind of pact is sealed in the dead of night?

Pairing: Astarion Ancunín x fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood drinking, flippant talk of death, reader is an insomniac (definitely not a recurring theme in my writing, what a strange coincidence!) Astarion's particular brand of flirtation (idk what to tell you babes, I like condescension) and unnecessarily sexual themes in vampiric feeding (What? It's hot af, so sue me).

It was only a matter of time before I hopped on the Astarion bandwagon when my former roommate started playing bg3. I wrote the first draft of this about a year ago, Christmas 2023, because I had taken a deep dive and became much more than a little obsessed with that first feeding moment. Also for a solid six months -- I kid you not -- the only thing I listened to in order to fall asleep was the 8-hour compilation of all his lines from the game lol (look it up, it's a beautiful thing) so now this man's voice is in my head at all times. It's a glorious curse to be afflicted with. Also reader is a bard because I'm a musician :)

It’s so dark here, even with the halo of the fire smoldering low in the circle of woodland where your companions are camping for the night. Every time the group of you finds a new place to stay for a few days, it’s the same old argument all over again — just how big and bright of a blaze is too much to keep a low profile, but how much light is still needed to keep the more unfriendly denizens of the night away. 

You’re a fairly patient person, had to be to survive on the streets when you were abandoned as a child, but by all the gods, sometimes waiting for the perfect opportunity to charm persuadable passers-by into tossing you a coin for your songs was easier than waiting for these companions to settle a matter with any weight to it.

So call it petty, but if occasionally you were found tuning up your mandolin by the fireside in the middle of the night and the lighter sleepers woke up cursing your name and the name of your Bardic College, you weren’t sure “sorry" was exactly the emotion you felt. 

Perhaps it was something to do with that side of you that had inexplicably connected you to the party’s temperamental rogue. You hadn’t expected at all to be the one that he turned out to be oddly fond of, but sometimes life was stranger than fiction, after all. And even if your strange…friendship of sorts had begun with one of his blades at your throat and a snarl on his lips, what indeed was a little attempted murder between friends, in his own words. 

Friends. 

The word still feels foreign to you; it’s been a long time since you had anyone you would use it for. But as long as his violent tendencies worked in your favor and not against you, he was certainly a valuable ally to have, at the very least. 

And you can’t deny that he intrigues you. 

“Darling! I thought you’d be fast asleep by now. What in the sweet hells are you still doing up at this hour?’ 

Speak of the devil. 

You turn from your seat by the ring of embers to gaze up at him, standing inquisitively over you, and can’t entirely deny the confounding way your heart always skips a beat in your chest when you see him. There’s probably a measure of residual fear there, a nice little self-preserving reminder that he could very well kill you if you don’t keep your guard up, but it’s not entirely that, either. 

No, Astarion Ancunín is a beauty among men — tall enough, though not so tall as to be intimidating, lithe and light-footed as a cat, yet broad of shoulder and chest so you suspect power matches grace. The moon is out tonight, not hiding behind its gloomy clouds for once, and the way the light plays over his alabaster skin and finely shaped features reminds you once again that he must be a high elf, though he has made no mention of ancestry or background to you so far, aside from vague references to a former “employer” that may or may not even be fully true. 

His tongue is far too silver for you to completely believe everything that leaves his mouth. 

“Insomnia,” you offer with a smile, sliding your dagger back into its sheath now that you’ve finished cleaning and sharpening it after the day’s wear. “Ironically the only nighttime lover that’s stuck around me this long, I'm afraid.” 

He clicks his tongue in theatrical pity, lowering himself to the ground beside you; you note with interest, not for the first time, that most beings in such close proximity would radiate body heat to some degree, but as with the other few times he’s been this close, it’s as if no one is beside you at all to break up the steadily chilling atmosphere.

Like his body is as cold as his cutting tone when he’s angry. 

“Well, their loss, I’m sure, Pet. You seem far too intriguing a creature to let go so thoughtlessly.” 

It almost awes you, the sheer ease with which such phrases spill from his lips, that he never seems to run out of lovely words to flatter and fluster those around him. Of course, as such a long-lived being, you imagine he’s had decades if not longer to practice his art and perfect it.

You can only imagine how many before you have fallen under the spell of his hypnotic way with language. 

But you’ve dealt in poetry quite awhile yourself, and you know better than most that the prettiest words are not always without an ulterior motive.

So you play along with his game, whatever it may be. He’s admitted he’s not the most exacting of strategists, so you feel fairly certain he’ll tip his hand sooner rather than later. 

“You flatter me, Astarion.” 

“Of course I do, Love. I aim to please.” 

He’s tossed phrases like that at you before, and as with the other times, you catch the briefest sneer flash across his face before it instantly returns to its usual smooth expression of self-satisfaction. 

“What’s your excuse?” you prod lightly, disguising your real interest as small talk as you place a few more twigs in the fire. You both watch the brief, tiny flares of new flame as they rise and fall before he answers. 

His laugh is too free, just the smallest hint too bright. “I’m an elf, Darling. A few hours of trance and I’ll be fit to outlast any of these fools in a fight. Sleep is a luxury if I so desire, but not a necessity, as I’m sure you recall.” 

You try to send him an annoyed look at his superior tone, but it’s nearly impossible to stay that way when met with his dancing crimson eyes and that damn pretty grin that sweeps his perfect lips into such tantalizing curves. 

“Saucy bastard.” 

“Thank you, I try.” 

The two of you sit there in silence for a little while, and as the stars change position above you, you start to pick up that perhaps there really is more to Astarion’s immediate reasons for being here than he told you. There’s a tightly wound tension lurking underneath the surface of his body, betrayed by minuscule restless movements and shifts. You hear it when he opens his mouth once or twice as if to speak, but he gives you nothing more than a noncommittal hum each time.

Yet his gaze has been searing into you with increasing intensity whenever yours is fixed forward on the fire, and finally you realize it may be up to you to prompt this interaction he so obviously wants, or you may be stuck here in this limbo indefinitely. 

“Do you want something, Astarion?” 

His breath hisses in surprise; as quickly as the lapse in his façade happens it fades, smoothing over itself so when your attention reaches him he’s all unruffled charm again.

“Perceptive little thing, aren’t we.” 

“I aim to please,” you respond, mimicking his delivery of earlier.

Something in the air between you is taut and brittle, and you have the sense that how the next few minutes go is entirely dependent on how you react to him.

As far as you can tell, it’s been your ability to give back as good as you get in terms of wit that has kept you in his good graces so far. 

“This would have been so much simpler if you weren’t plagued with sleeplessness,” he laments. “But no matter. I suppose the worst you can do is refuse me, after all.” 

He leans in close, and now it’s your turn to lose your breath, faced as you are with those suddenly burning eyes, so intense that you find your own gaze flickering instead between the immaculate silver-white curl falling over his forehead and the way his tongue slides contemplatively across his teeth. 

“This may be a…strange request, for lack of a better word,” he admits, pinning you in place with that furnace-like focus. “But I’m utterly ravenous tonight, and I need something you could provide me with quite easily. If you’re feeling at all generous and not inclined to ‘stabbing-and-running’, that is.” 

In the muted glow from the embers’ light, you see at last what you’ve suspected in the back of your mind was there all along, barely hidden in the shadows of his mouth. 

His canine teeth are long, elegantly curving to razor points that glint sharply as his upper lip pulls ever so slightly back. 

Vampire. 

“You need a drink, don’t you?” you whisper, strangely more wondering than frightened. “You’re a vampire.” 

The dangerous red eyes narrow with genuine interest. “And yet your heart isn’t trying to dig its way out of your chest at the very idea. Does it not terrify you, to be faced with such an unholy creature — all alone — in the middle of the night, my Dear?” 

It’s a precarious game now; though you doubt Astarion would outright pounce and drain you dry, you do know better than to think he’ll do what you expect him to, and any wrong move could be one you would sorely regret. You can clearly see the desperate hunger now, clawing behind his carefully set expression — the twitch of an ear, a sweep of his tongue, his chest heaving briefly beneath the filmy white shirt that drapes his figure so finely before it stills again. 

“Believe it or not, you’re not the first vampire I’ve encountered,” you tell him softly. “And you at least had the decency to ask. I’m inclined to not be too difficult, if you swear not to kill me.” 

Astarion moves closer again, causing you to move slightly back.

And you notice that, despite his predatory body language, there’s also a bone-deep weariness in those captivating eyes, that the lovely angles of his face are drawn and even paler than normal. 

“I…won’t kill you.”

The words land somewhere between a purr and a growl, and draw a shiver up your spine like the surprise of cold rain. “I feed almost exclusively from wild animals, you know. But the hunting has been scarce as of late, and much as it pains me to admit it, I’m not in top form at the moment.” He looks away for a moment, something like disgust wrinkling his nose and curling his lip.

“I only require enough to replenish my strength for the hunt.” 

You turn this proposal over in your head, weighing the potential dangers against the advantages.

If he, in fact, doesn’t kill you either during or directly after he feeds, having Astarion in your debt could actually greatly improve your chances of survival on this journey.

It feels worth the risk. 

“Okay.” You nod, consciously slowing your breath to keep from appearing panicked about your choice. “You can take enough to refresh yourself. Don’t push it.” 

The disarming ripple of shock passes across his features, and for just a split second, his eyes look wide and almost soft before he’s fully back in control again, a wicked smirk taking the place of any potential vulnerability that could have been glimpsed there.

“I will be absolutely angelic for you, my Love. You’ll barely feel a thing. May I?” 

He reaches for you, and after a breath of hesitation, you nod your consent. 

The way he lowers your body all the way to the ground is impossibly tender, the complete opposite of the only other time the two of you have been in this position, when he was threatening to kill you. Although his hold is firm, warning you not to try anything rash, his one hand cushions the back of your head as you allow yourself to be guided downwards, and the way that hand caresses its way down your back to settle the rest of your body in turn is a touch of heaven, relaxing your muscles against your better judgment. His other hand cradles your neck, long, cool fingers stroking the sensitive skin between your ear and shoulder until the delicious sensation causes you to open the area up to him with a slight sigh.

Astarion bends over you, and there’s a possessiveness to his posture, a falcon mantling its prey. 

“You look so lovely from this angle,” he chuckles, and the unexpected compliment is enough to drop your guard for an instant, so he lunges forward, teeth bared. 

You gasp at the frozen stab of his fangs embedding themselves deep in your flesh, but before you can make another sound, the pain subsides as quickly as it began. Instead, all you become aware of is the hungry push-pull sensation of his mouth flush against your skin, and the almost erotic sounds of enjoyment that roll from somewhere deep in his chest as your hot blood bathes his tongue and runs down his throat.

And there’s a dangerous sort of pleasure that rises in answer in your own treasonous chest, at the knowledge that he’s taking his very sustenance from your body like this. 

If he doesn’t forget himself and drain you completely dry, maybe you would even offer this again when he’s starving the next time. 

Your vision suddenly blurs as your head spins, and shaken back into the present moment, you dig your nails sharply into Astarion’s bicep, hoping he’ll get the message and stop. 

The eyes that swing to refocus on yours are nearly mad with ecstasy, and as his brow furrows and his jaws tighten around the side of your throat, you start to genuinely fear that maybe he’s too far gone, and this was your final mistake. 

But after a moment that feels like it stretches on for centuries, he reluctantly unlocks his teeth from the depths of you, and with a gentleness that makes your already pounding heart flutter more, he closes up the wounds with a couple smooth laps of his tongue. 

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he singsongs as he rocks back on his heels to stare down at you. He could almost pass for someone pleasantly tipsy on wine, half-lidded eyes and probably the warmest grin you’ve yet to see crossing his face.

Only the thick scarlet rivulets lazily running from the corners of his smug mouth tell the truth. 

You’re still breathing hard, though you blink up at him as calmly as possible. “You'd better tell me I taste good, for the headache I’m probably going to have tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Love, you sell yourself short,” he remarks airily. “You taste much better than simply good. In fact, you’re rather divine, and I hope you realize that’s an immense compliment coming from me.”

Almost absentmindedly, he swipes the back of a hand across his lower lip, slowly licks the excess blood from his hand with a languid tongue, still maintaining eye contact with you as he does so. 

“Mm. Good. Otherwise I might not let you do this again.”

Your eyes feel so heavy now; much as you were planning on staying awake longer, you’re not sure you’ll be able to anymore.

You let your eyelids start to flutter shut. 

“Again — ? Well well, you are a wonder, aren’t you.” Astarion’s voice lowers to a silky whisper as he hesitates a moment, then lightly lifts your head to rest it more comfortably upon a folded blanket he moves beneath you for a pillow.

“And look at it this way, Pet — now I’ve gone and solved your insomnia problem for you! You can thank me in the morning, don’t worry, I’ll wait.” 

Your breathing has begun to slow and deepen, but even as your sight and hearing spiral away, you feel it with stunning clarity as his fingertips drift down your cheek, and his lips, still warm from the temporary life your blood has granted him, brush over the place where he bit you with all the shy adoration and reverence of a lover. 

You wonder if anything in that gesture is at all genuine. 

And that thought makes you wonder why the idea of it all being just an act is a cold one. 

He straightens up; you sense rather than hear him move away from you, a new prowling intensity to his stride as he no doubt heads back into the darkness to hunt.

His retreating words float back to you on the night breeze, and the promise of his future favor releases the last string tethering you to the world of the waking. 

“I promise I’ll not take this for granted, my Love.” 

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/10/2024

someone adopt this little orange man from me in Houston TX! more details here!

listening

the 1991 Ella Mae Morse compilation Capitol Collectors Series is the official driving-cats-to-the-vet album bc it is so mellow but still fun. this album has previously been featured several times in tuesdayposts but i think you should all listen to it again.

seven thousand three hundred days IS a long long time to sleep ur so right ella

-

reading

two different works that annoyed me: Emily Hamilton's The Stars Too Fondly. my first clue should have been that this is my least favorite poem, bc ppl would quote it to me smugly after my mom died. im sure they thought they were being so super comforting to a budding astronomer, but, much like how i can no longer eat lasagna bc ppl gave us Twenty! Party! Size! Platters! Of! Lasagna! after my mom died (they would just Appear on our front porch, frozen), too much of this poem really soured me.

i had this book on hold Forever and then delayed delivery twice bc i have not felt like reading lately. here's the publisher's description:

In her breathtaking debut—part space odyssey, part sapphic rom-com—Emily Hamilton weaves a suspenseful, charming, and irresistibly joyous tale of fierce friendship, improbable love, and wonder as vast as the universe itself. So, here’s the thing: Cleo and her friends really, truly didn’t mean to steal this spaceship. They just wanted to know why, twenty years ago, the entire Providence crew vanished without a trace. But then the stupid dark matter engine started all on its own, and now these four twenty-somethings are en route to Proxima Centauri, unable to turn around, and being harangued by a snarky hologram that has the face and attitude of the ship’s missing captain, Billie. Cleo has dreamt of being an astronaut all her life, and Earth is kind of a lost cause at this point, so this should be one of those blessings in disguise that people talk about. But as the ship gets deeper into space, the laws of physics start twisting, old mysteries come crawling back to life, and Cleo’s initially combative relationship with Billie turns into something deeper and more desperate than either woman was prepared for. Lying somewhere in the subspace between science fantasy and sapphic rom-com, The Stars Too Fondly is a soaring near-future adventure about dark matter and alternate dimensions, leaving home and finding family, and the galaxy-saving power of letting yourself love and be loved.

should be catnip for me, right? wrong. starts out as a chat fic, which i hate.

i had a lot of trouble finishing the first chapter, which also has an extended third-person omniscient narrator flashback in italics, a thing i also hate. i KNOW you can figure out how to integrate this information into the book in a better way instead of dumping it in my lap.

i think part of why this is not hitting like i wanted is the tone, because i think this veers more new adult than i was really hoping for. i think introducing a big group all at once is very hard to do effectively. i do not like a series of character introductions that feel like they are trying to sell me action figures. or perhaps blind-bag figures. i do not like a six-deep list of cheesy puns about someone's name. i do not have the patience to see if this debut novel finds its footing a little later on, though i am glad a sapphic ghost in the machine romance exists in this world.

i also read dean motter's mister x (both the original late eighties through early nineties run and the 2008 follow-on).

let's yoink the description from wikipedia:

Set in Radiant City, a dystopian municipality influenced by Bauhaus and Fritz Lang's Metropolis, the series concerns a mysterious figure who purports to be its architect. His radical theories of "psychetecture" cause the citizenry to go mad, just as he did, and he takes on the mission to repair his creation. To accomplish this he remains awake twenty-four hours a day by means of the drug "insomnalin", all the while coping with a Dick Tracy–like rogues gallery and supporting cast including his long-suffering ex-girlfriend Mercedes. (ed note: the redhead in the santa beard below)

the art in this comic book is really and truly stunning. everyone was firing on all cylinders. beautiful retrofuturistic advertisement vibes, very fun play with panels and word balloons while still being readable, there are airships, you know how it is. looooooooove a hardboiled noir.

the Concept of mister x, this horrible awful futuristic city that grinds its citizenry up and spits them out? both figuratively and sometimes literally? love it!!! love a great wounded beast of a city as a character!!!

unforch the "who is mister x" subplot does not resolve in a satisfying way, imo. there's a lot of flip-flopping, there's a lot of options, he ends up being (maybe?) someone he was very definitively proven NOT to be in an earlier issue, and it really soured me on the whole experience. and also i don't believe it! that specific person makes no fucking sense! who mister x is, is by far the least interesting part of the series. tell me more about how he's fixing the city. show me more of the city. shut up and dance, robot artists

-

watching

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016, dir. Singer). this movie did not need to be two and a half hours long. appreciated the EXTREMELY divorced energy from charles & erik though, quicksilver rescuing the school scene was also very fun. my bestie's husband has informed me we are NOT watching Dark Phoenix, i'm not sure if we're going to loop back and watch the ??? number of wolverine films or if we're going to see how i feel about deadpool. bc i find this character insufferable through clips only.

-

playing

there is a feature in the video game genshin impact to turn your World Level (TM) down in order to make overworld enemies a little easier. i am at seven out of nine bc i genuinely can't finish the boss to unlock world level 9, and i am finding some of the overworld enemies too hard at 8 and want to finish the achievements in a more relaxed fashion.

-

making

this is going to be a lot of previously posted pics so bear with me.

saturday morning/saturday evening. plants? repotted. porch and stairs? swept. old wasp nests? knocked down. different mirror on the porch to go out to the curb when i have the energy? yes. also a giant slab of engineered stone from the top of a dresser but that's out of frame.

speaking of the giant broken dresser that was in my apartment when i moved in just over a year ago, i ripped it apart with a crowbar and threw it in the dumpster. put my pretty zebrawood desk in the empty space and started thinking about what to hang on that wall. the wall across from it is maps, bc i think a cozy office should have lots of maps and it makes a good video conference background. maybe this will be the dedicated cowboy nonsense wall. i did so much dusting and vacuuming and mopping and the girls can't even hang out in here bc the orange boy is in the office bathroom. big sigh.

also a lot of driving around and emailing and calling thirty shelters and rescues figuring out how to get this orange man a home. please take this orange man off my hands.

[six-costume-refs]

Six Makeup: Masterpost and Links

Hey y'all! Finally finished up a long promised post: all of my makeup suggestions for SIX cosplayers (and/or fans who just want to do some cool makeup looks)!!! I've been actively working on this post for about a year now and compiling makeup for even longer, so I'm happy to finally finish it. I'll get into more details in a moment, but first things first:

I'll include all the links below, but for easy access I made a handy-dandy Pinterest board. It is sorted by costume (sections for each queen + alt costume) and you can clink on any pin to be taken directly to buy it. I would recommend that people look there for a more visual/easy look at the recommendations; I realize pure text can get a bit old!

Some notes: - All of these links are to US sites, with a variety of US and UK sources. Most of these brands ship internationally and/or are available on Amazon as well. - I tried to factor in a large variety of material colors/shades, skin tones, and financial budget. You'll find a mix of US and UK-based brands, mainstream and smaller brands, drugstore versus more upscale, and some brands owned by women of color. - There's a broad range in the companies listed in terms of their ethics, animal testing, politics, etc. I'm including as many companies as possible to give people as many options as possible, but some of these I wouldn't personally financially support. I would strongly suggest that anyone do their own research into the brands listed. - Many of these products may be harsher on skin than your typical products. I'd suggest considering any potential allergens and skin testing any product before use, and using your regular base (foundation, blush, etc) to minimize the number of new products. (If you have sensitive skin or are worried about toxicity, I'd suggest Skin Deep for toxicity information and the FDA site for information on common irritants) - The vast majority of the makeup on this list is products that I know Six actors use. However, just because someone in Six uses it does not mean it's necessary to achieve a great look - there are many great alternatives for just about any product, and what works for a specific actor may not be what works best for you. (I'd also note that the vast majority of queens use some fairly cheap makeup, so you never need to feel like you have to pay more to get "stage accuracy") - Factor in where you're intending to use your products. Six uses some extreme stage makeup and truly crazy lighting; if you use these products with the exact same intensity in just about any other context, it will be way overkill. Convention lighting tends to be harsh so you can usually go a bit heavier there, particularly if you're intending to do any on-stage performances. But for everyday use or a closet cosplay to go see Six or an outdoor meet-up with natural light you will usually want to go much softer. (Photoshoots are a whole other can of worms and really depend on specifics) - Some of this information is taken from a series of Instagram stories Erin Ramirez did. I'm still writing up a post of everything she suggested, but I'll link it here when finished. - And, finally, have fun experimenting and finding what works for you!

Links to recommendation posts and inspiration: Glitters/shimmers Palettes, eyeshadows, and other accents Lipsticks (coming soon) Erin Ramirez's recommendations MAC partnership link Eye look inspiration (my Pinterest board)

[crazychaoticizzy]

TRACK 1: Pilot/Heart Attack

Heart Attack: the greatest rock band in history. Decades after the nasty breakup that followed their final performance in Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles, the six band members finally agree to separate interviews that reveal how they came together and their rise to fame.

And what led to their sudden downfall.

EREN X READER X JEAN

CONTENT: multipart fic, rock band au, love triangle, slow burn, angst

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

Series Masterlist

AOT Masterlist

DODGER STADIUM, LOS ANGELES After their highly anticipated performance at Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles, Jean Kirschtein tore off the neck of his bass on stage and ripped a hole in the drums. After announcing his resignation from the famous band, Heart Attack, Eren Jäger punched him.

Following Jean Kirschtein's resignation, Heart Attack fell apart. The performance in Dodger Stadium was their last, and the six band members have not been seen together since.

This biography is made up of a series of interviews compiled over the years by Olivia Russo. This is the first time the band and others involved have spoken on their scandals since they broke up.

JEAN KIRSTEIN, bassist for Heart Attack: Just sit here?  Alright. Yeah, of course. Sure you don’t want anything to drink? Okay. [smiling] Hi.

EREN JÄGER, main male vocalist for Heart Attack: We’re gonna make this quick, ‘kay? I don’t wanna talk about this shit. Ask your questions, get a snack or something, and leave.

ARMIN ARLERT, guitarist for Heart Attack: Do I look okay? I dunno, I just feel nervous, I guess. I haven’t really talked about this in years, especially on camera.

SASHA BRAUS, keyboardist for Heart Attack: Oh, I’m so excited for this. Did my hair curl weird? No? Okay. What do you want me to do? Introduce myself? I don’t know, everything’s changed so much since the last time I did a one on one interview like this. Hi, my name is Sasha Braus. I was the former keyboardist and supporting female vocalist for Heart Attack.

CONNIE SPRINGER, drummer for Heart Attack: Ready, kid? You’re in for a ride. I hope you brought snack or something to hold you by, this is a long story.

MIKASA ACKERMAN, photographer and costume designer for Heart Attack: This is for a documentary, right? Or a novel? Oh, okay. Either way, I’ll try to remember everything as best I can.

Y/N L/N, main female vocalist for Heart Attack: Hey. Yeah, of course. Mess with whatever. Maybe you can hide the circles under my eyes. [laughs]

What did you think of Heart Attack?

MIKASA: Well, it was Eren’s dream, so I just kind of went with it. It was fun, though. I really liked everyone we worked with. Most of them were really nice.

EREN: We were on top of the fucking world. The biggest band of the century. Everyone knew our name and we were making millions. I don’t know why Jean wanted to throw that shit away.

JEAN: You want honesty? I fucking hated it. Every single second.

CONNIE: Ooo, getting into the deep shit already? Well, I personally thought it was so fun. More so after we got famous, but it was great even back when we were just teenagers in Mrs. Yeager’s basement.

ARMIN: I kind of felt… indifferent? I mean, yeah I liked it. I was spending time with my best friends. But I would have preferred something quieter, maybe? Something that didn’t have us at each other’s throats all the time, at least.

SASHA: Well, it was definitely stressful. God, especially when I was pregnant. I was so worried about what we were going to do then. I mean, I couldn’t be up on stage at almost nine months. Are you crazy? But then for half of our songs the keyboard is a really big part so it’s not like I just couldn’t be there.

Y/N: I really enjoyed it. Yeah, there were a couple times I maybe wanted to kill someone, but it was fun. Lifelong friends, some of them. All of them, actually, but . . .

SASHA: Oh, well. We figured it out in the end. [smiles]

Y/N: It didn’t end well, as I’m sure you know.

JEAN: What were we? A rock band, according to Google, but what we were doing wasn’t rock.

CONNIE: It’s kind of funny, actually. Before Sasha we were all so uncreative and couldn’t come up with song titles. With good reason, too, that shit is hard. Trying to sum up your song in a couple words? Pfft. We were all useless, especially Eren.

ARMIN: Only the super old fans know this, but our very first song ever, track one on our debut album, was originally called “Pilot.”

EREN: Yes, like the fucking first episode of a show that doesn’t know if it’s gonna do well or some shit. It was not my idea.

JEAN: It was Eren’s idea.

MIKASA: I tried convincing them to name it something else, but they wouldn’t budge. I suggested just their band name and they said, “No, that’s too basic. We need something unique.” They didn’t change it until Scout Records told them to. And guess what they changed it to.

CONNIE: We changed the first song to “Heart Attack” in… let’s see, 2018 or somewhere close to that. 2019, maybe?

JEAN: Naming our first album “Debut” was Eren’s dumb ass idea, too. Uncreative prick.

EREN: No one else had any better ideas, so we just went with what I said by default. It’s not like anyone cared, anyway.

What can you tell me about Marco Bodt?

SASHA: Sorry, darling. I don’t know much about him other than he was the band’s first keyboardist.

Y/N: Just what Annie and everyone else told me way back when. I don't remember much.

MIKASA: Oh, I wasn’t around them enough at the beginning to know him. That was around the same time my mom had started getting me ready to take over the store, so I spent almost all of my free time with her.

ARMIN: I don’t really remember him. I had him in my Chemistry class before I dropped out. He was my table partner, I think. He was nice, though. We tutored each other sometimes. And, of course, he was over at Eren’s with us a lot.

CONNIE: I loved Marco, man. If you met him, you knew you had just met the sun. He always had such a bright outlook on everything. He was like Switzerland when we started arguing. And he always came up with the best compromises.

EREN: Marco was amazing. I felt bad all the time because he was always breaking up arguments. I have no clue why he was friends with us.

ARMIN: We were definitely annoying. It took a special kind of patience to deal with us, especially at that age. Marco always handled it so well, though. I think he and I would’ve ended up being much better friends if we were given the chance.

JEAN: Someone did their homework. You know about Marco? Course you do, you’re fucking [incoherent]. Uhm, Marco… God, I haven’t talked about him since he died. I don’t even think the really old fans know about him, to be honest. Well, Marco was . . . I think he was the first boy I ever loved.

i'm so excited for this series you guys don't even know. i have so much planned and i hope you guys have as much fun reading it as i had writing it

TAGLIST: @arlerts-angel if you'd like to join the taglist please comment to let me know!

next part >>

[emmalostinwonderland]

never been so weak (never felt so incomplete)

This was my contribution to @aroyallybigbangrwrb back in June, now updated with a brand new header! I had a couple lovely friends contribute supplemental works to this project as well, and I wanted to compile everything in one post.

Alex is in his last year of grad school when he meets Henry, a keyboardist in a punk rock band with the look to match, and he begins to discover things about himself that he's been overlooking his whole life. Unfortunately, it seems as though Henry will be Alex's one that got away... unless fate has other ideas.

The Fic: never been so weak (never felt so incomplete) Rated: E WC: 11.7k Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor (RWRB book-verse) 1. sunset // 2. midnight // 3. dawn

The Art: a fashion study of punk!Henry by @louikazooie

The FanMix: Weak and Incomplete by @cactusdragon517

Snippet below the cut:

Henry behind a keyboard with sweat pooling in the dip of his collarbones and piercings shining under stage lights is hot. He’s undeniably fucking hot, but this Henry? The man with schmear, well… schmeared up his cheeks as he chows down on an egg bagel, is something else. He’s so ethereal yet so intrinsically human. Alex finds himself staring slack-jawed again until he remembers his own treasure — the salt bagel with lox and a healthy amount of cream cheese piled high in the middle — sitting virtually untouched in his hands. He forces himself to focus on unwrapping it, ignoring Henry slowing down and taking his turn to stare. “Hard as it is to admit, you were right,” he says eventually. “British bagels have nothing on the real thing.” “Told you. They say it’s the water.” Alex takes a bite of his breakfast and shrugs. His heart is trying to flutter right out of his chest, but he doesn’t need to show Henry all of his cards at once. “Do you have plans today?” Henry picks at the bagel skin as he asks, and Alex thinks he understands exactly what he’s feeling right now. Sighing somewhat dramatically, Alex makes a show of checking his watch-less wrist and squinting at the sky. “All signs point to maybe. I think I’m supposed to show this hot guy I know around New York.” He glances Henry’s way. “What say you, hot stuff?” Henry rolls his eyes, but Alex doesn’t miss the upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I can pencil you into my busy rockstar agenda.” “Oh yeah? You’d deign to offer me five minutes of your precious time?” “Perhaps. Six if you behave.” He winks and nudges Alex’s foot with his own.  Alex leans in, whispers, “no promises,” and licks a stray dab of cream cheese off of Henry’s cheek.  “By all counts, that should be so disgusting.” “You’re not disgusted.” “Says you?” “Says the blush you can’t hide.” Alex grins. “It’s so cute how red your ears get, baby.” Henry reaches up and covers one ear, though he doesn’t look away from Alex for even a second. “Come to my show tonight.” “You’re serious?” “Yes. You can stay backstage. I just…” Henry hesitates, fiddling with one of his rings. “I have a good feeling about this. I want you to be there.” Alex considers him — the sincerity in his eyes, the anxiousness in his fingertips — and makes a decision. Fuck it if it’s too fast, fuck it if it’s stupid. There’s a part of him that knows deep down that Henry could very well ruin him for anyone else forever.  There’s a part of him that wants to let him try.

[lifeofpriya]

A Courtside Crush - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

summary: your secret crush on jack takes a surprising turn when your feelings are reciprocated with equal intensity...

You've been at the National Tennis Centre for six months now as a resident intern, eager to learn the ins and outs of the sport that has captured the hearts of millions. Your days are filled with the thrumming excitement of aspiring athletes pushing their limits, and you find yourself in the throes of a crush that you can't quite shake.

Jack strides into the room, and you feel your cheeks heat up as you always do when he's near. His intoxicating hazel eyes sweep over you, lingering for a moment longer than usual. You've noticed him noticing you, and it sends your heart racing every time. He's not just another player; he's the star of the show, with a backhand that could make even the stoic weep with envy.

You're in the middle of explaining a new diagnostic tool to a fellow intern, your words tripping over themselves as Jack approaches. He leans against the netting, casually sipping from his water bottle, the logo of an exotic sports drink brand you've never heard of. His forearms bulge with the kind of power that only comes from countless hours on the court. You struggle to keep your voice steady, but it's like trying to balance a tray of fine china on a tightrope in a tornado.

"Jack, I've got your pre-training prep sorted," you say, trying to sound professional, but your voice is a squeaky mess. You hand him the clipboard, your hand trembling. He takes it, smiling that million-dollar smile, his eyes sparkling with a hint of something more.

"Thanks," he says, his voice like a perfectly timed serve, deep and resonant. He reads over the notes you've meticulously compiled, his eyes scanning the page. You can't help but steal glances at him, his profile sharp against the fluorescent lights of the training room. You're acutely aware of every little detail: the way his hair flops over his forehead and in front of his eyes, the beads of sweat that cling to his neck, the tattoo peeking out from his left bicep—a simple and minimalistic lightning bolt.

Jack looks up, catching your gaze. "Is there anything else I should know?" His smile is gentle, and you realize that you've been holding your breath.

You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "No, that's everything for now," you reply, trying to ignore the way your voice wavers.

Jack's eyes stay on you, a curious expression playing on his face. "You know, you always seem to blush when you give me these," he says, tilting his head slightly. "Is it something I'm doing wrong?"

You shake your head, feeling the heat in your cheeks intensify. "No, no," you stutter, "It's just… the lighting, you know." It's a terrible lie, but you're a terrible liar, and Jack seems to know it. His smile widens, and he nods.

"Ah, the lights," he says, his voice filled with amusement. "They can be tricky." He winks at you, and you can't tell if he's teasing or if he genuinely believes you. Inside, you're a whirlwind of butterflies, each one flapping its wings in a frenetic dance of excitement and embarrassment.

Days turn into weeks, and Jack starts seeking you out more often. He'd pop into the physio room for a quick chat or ask for a bottle of water that he could have easily grabbed himself. Each time, you feel your heart stutter in your chest. He's not just noticing you; he's actively engaging with you.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling training session, Jack approaches you with a towel draped around his neck, his hair a damp mess that somehow makes him even more attractive. "Hey," he says, his breath still heavy from exertion, "Could you…uh, check my shoulder?" He winces, rubbing the sore muscle.

You nod, trying to keep your cool as you follow him into a quieter corner of the training room. He swiftly undressed his sweat-soaked shirt, revealing an athletic torso that made the air around you feel thick with anticipation. You focus on his shoulder, the tension coiled tight like the strings of a racquet. As you start to probe the muscles, his skin is warm to the touch, and you feel the strength beneath your fingertips.

"It's okay," he says, noticing your gentle touch. "You can be a bit firmer. I've had worse."

You nod, trying to keep your thoughts from straying. You press into the taut muscles of his shoulder, feeling the knots loosen beneath your fingers. His skin is smooth, the scent of sweat and the faint tang of his cologne lingering. You take a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand.

"Does this feel okay?" you ask, trying to sound professional despite the racing of your heart.

Jack nods, his eyes closing as you work. "Yeah, that's the spot." His voice is a soft rumble, and you can feel the vibration in your own chest. You continue to massage his shoulder, feeling the muscles relax under your touch.

You've seen the way other interns look at you when you're with Jack, the glances filled with envy and curiosity. But it's not just about being close to him; it's about the connection you feel, the way he makes you feel seen in a sea of faces that often blur together in the bustling center.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the tennis courts, Jack finds you in the empty player's lounge. You're reviewing notes for an upcoming seminar on injury prevention, your nose buried in the pages. You don't hear him enter, but you feel the shift in the air, the subtle way it seems to charge with his presence.

"Hey," he says, his voice a gentle intrusion into the silence. You look up, startled, your cheeks immediately flaming. He smirks, that knowing smile playing on his lips. "Still blushing?"

You duck your head, pretending to focus on your notes. "It's nothing, just… the heat in here."

Jack chuckles, a sound that resonates through your entire body. He takes a seat next to you, his legs stretched out in front of him, his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. You can't help but steal glances at his profile, the way the light kisses his high cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw.

"You're working late," he comments, nodding towards your notes. "What's got you so absorbed?"

You look up, surprised by his genuine interest. "Just preparing for a seminar," you reply, your voice a whisper of its usual self. "It's on injury prevention in elite athletes."

Jack nods thoughtfully. "That's pretty important stuff," he says, his eyes meeting yours. There's something in his gaze that wasn't there before—a warmth, an understanding that sends a shiver down your spine. "You're really dedicated, you know that?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "It's just part of the job," you murmur, your eyes darting back to the pages in front of you. But you can feel him watching you, and it's like your heart is a tennis ball bouncing back and forth in your chest, eager to be served into the right court.

Jack leans in slightly, his gaze intense. "I noticed how much you care about the players, how you pay attention to the smallest details. It's pretty impressive." His words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Is he flirting with you? Or is it just your imagination, running wild with hope?

You manage a small smile, trying to keep your cool. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's what we're here for, right?"

Jack nods, his gaze still locked on you. "But not everyone does it with the passion you have. It's like you're a silent guardian angel for all of us."

You laugh, a nervous chuckle that betrays the tumult of emotions inside. "Guardian angel?" You repeat, looking up from your notes. "I'm just trying to do my job."

Jack's smile softens, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, you do it better than anyone else here." He leans back in his chair, his fingers playing with the strings of his racket. "What do you do when you're not, you know, saving us from our own bodies?"

You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way your heart is thumping like a drum in your chest. "I… I like to read, mostly," you admit. "Or bake, sometimes. It helps me unwind."

Jack's eyes light up. "Really?" He leans in closer, his interest piqued. "What's your favorite thing to bake?"

You blush even deeper. "I'm not sure if I have a favorite, but I enjoy making a variety of things." You hesitate for a moment before adding, "I made some scones last weekend, actually. They were… decent."

Jack's eyes widen. "Scones?" He repeats, his voice filled with surprise. "You know, I've never had a decent scone before. Most places just get them wrong."

You look at him, your eyes meeting his with a hint of skepticism. "You don't say?"

Jack nods, his eyes gleaming with something that seems almost like excitement. "Yeah, I've had some pretty disappointing ones. Too dry, not enough jam, you know the deal." He pauses, his gaze lingering on your face. "Would you… I don't know, maybe make some for me one of these days?"

You blink, surprised by the request. "For you?" You repeat, your voice a squeak.

Jack nods, his grin widening. "Yeah, for me. If you don't mind, of course."

You can't believe what you're hearing. Is Jack Draper, the tennis phenomenon you've been crushing on for weeks, really asking you to bake him scones? "I'd be happy to," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I'll need to make sure they're up to your… discerning taste."

Jack laughs, a sound that fills the room and warms you from the inside out. "I'll be the judge of that." He winks, and you feel a flutter in your stomach that's more intense than any you've felt before.

The days that follow are a blur of anticipation. Each time you see Jack, your heart skips a beat. His glances seem more lingering, his smiles more genuine. The other interns whisper about the two of you, speculating about what's going on. You pretend not to hear them, focusing on your work, but every interaction with Jack feels like a secret shared between the two of you.

On the day you've agreed to bring him scones, you wake up early, the recipe for the perfect scone echoing in your mind like a mantra. You meticulously measure out the ingredients, kneading the dough with a gentle touch, hoping that with each fold, you're also weaving a little bit of yourself into them. The scent of baking fills your small apartment, a sweet promise of a good day ahead.

You arrive at the training center with a Tupperware container filled with your culinary creation, your heart racing. The other interns eye you curiously as you make your way to Jack's locker. He's just coming out, freshly showered and dressed in his pristine training gear. He sees you and his eyes light up, the same way they do when he nails an ace.

"Scones," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and surprise. "You really did it."

You hand him the Tupperware, your hands shaking slightly. "I hope they're up to your standards," you say, trying to sound casual despite the racing of your heart.

Jack takes the container, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm sure they'll be perfect," he says, a hint of warmth in his voice that makes you feel like you've just scored a winning point.

You watch as he opens the Tupperware, the anticipation in the air thick enough to slice through with a knife. He takes a deep breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he inhales the scent of freshly baked scones. When he opens them again, they're sparkling with excitement.

"They smell amazing," Jack says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He takes one out, breaking it in half. You can almost hear the soft crackle of the crust as he does so. He takes a bite, his eyes never leaving yours.

You hold your breath, waiting for his verdict. The seconds stretch out like a long, tense rally, each one fraught with the potential for victory or defeat. Then, Jack's face relaxes into a smile, his eyes lighting up. "These are… these are incredible," he says, his mouth full of scone. "The best I've ever had."

The words hit you like a perfectly placed drop shot, sending waves of happiness through your body. "Really?" you ask, unable to contain the excitement bubbling up inside you.

Jack nods, taking another bite. "Mm-hmm," he mumbles around the mouthful of scone. "These are the real deal."

You can't help but feel a swell of pride. "I'm so glad you like them," you say, smiling shyly.

Jack takes another bite, his eyes closing in pleasure. "These are seriously amazing," he murmurs. "You've got a real talent."

You blush harder, the compliment feeling like a warm embrace. "Thank you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just something I enjoy doing."

Jack takes another bite, nodding in agreement. "It shows," he says, his mouth full of scone again. "You put a lot of love into these."

You feel your cheeks heat up even more at his words. "I just wanted to make sure they were good," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur.

Jack swallows, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs. "They're not just good," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur that matches yours. "They're perfect. Like you."

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel your cheeks burn even hotter. "Jack," you whisper, not quite sure how to respond.

He takes another bite, his eyes never leaving yours. "What?" He asks, his voice a low rumble.

You feel the weight of his gaze, the way it seems to strip you bare of all your defenses. "I… I just didn't expect you to say that," you reply, your voice trembling slightly.

Jack shrugs, his eyes still on you. "Why not?" He asks, popping the last piece of scone into his mouth. "It's the truth."

You can't help but feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. You've never had someone look at you the way he does, as if you're the only person in the room.

"Jack," you start to say, but your voice catches in your throat. You're not sure what to say next. You've had crushes before, but none of them have ever looked at you like this.

Jack finishes his scone, licking the crumbs off his fingers. He looks at you, his eyes filled with something that's definitely more than just friendship. "You know," he says, his voice a soft caress, "I've been thinking a lot about you lately."

Your heart does a backflip. "Oh?" you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but you're pretty sure you've failed.

Jack nods, his eyes still on yours. "Yeah," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "I can't get you out of my head."

You're frozen, unable to form words as he takes a step closer. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint aroma of sweat and the lingering sweetness of your scones, fills your senses. You're acutely aware of every little detail about him: the way his hair sticks to his forehead, the way his eyes seem to sparkle in the harsh gym lighting, the gentle curve of his smile as he looks at you.

"You know," Jack says, his voice a soft whisper, "I've been feeling the same way."

Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself unable to look away from him. The air between you feels charged, like the moments before a storm. You've never been so aware of your own breathing, the sound of your heart in your ears, the way the fabric of your shirt clings to your skin.

Jack takes another step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and you realize that you've stopped breathing. He looks into your eyes, searching for something, and you realize with a start that you've fallen for him, hard.

"Jack," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. "I think I might… I mean, I think…"

He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking the line of your jaw. "Might what?" He asks, his voice a gentle coax.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. "Might… like you," you finally manage, your heart feeling like it's about to burst out of your chest.

Jack's smile widens, a hint of surprise and joy flickering in his eyes. "You do?" He asks, his voice a mix of excitement and disbelief.

You nod, feeling your face flush even more. "I do," you murmur, your heart racing like you're in the middle of a match.

Jack's smile turns into a grin. "Well, that's good," he says, his voice a soft rumble. "Because I like you too."

The confession hits you like a perfectly timed serve, and you can feel your knees threaten to buckle. "You do?" You ask, your voice a squeak.

Jack chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah, I do," he confirms, his thumb still tracing the line of your jaw. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver down your spine, and you lean into his touch, unable to resist.

The training room fades into the background as Jack leans in, closing the distance between you. You can feel his breath on your face, and your heart is racing like it's the final set of a grand slam. He looks into your eyes, searching for something, and you realize you've been holding your breath.

"Jack," you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, "I-"

But before you can say another word, Jack's mouth is on yours, and the world around you dissolves into a whirlwind of sensation. His lips are soft, yet firm, and they move against yours with a gentle urgency that steals the remaining breath from your lungs. You're not sure how long you stand there, lost in the kiss, but it feels like an eternity—like every moment of your life has been leading up to this.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are filled with a vulnerability you haven't seen before. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmurs, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

You can't help but smile, feeling like you're floating on a cloud of happiness. "Me too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jack's eyes light up, and he leans in for another kiss, his hand slipping around your waist. You melt into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the gym floor and the distant echo of a tennis ball bouncing off the court fade away, leaving only the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

You've read about moments like this in romance novels, but you never thought it would happen to you, especially not with someone as incredible as Jack Draper. You're just a simple intern, not the hero of some grand love story. But here you are, lost in the embrace of a man who's captured not just your heart but the hearts of millions with his fierce determination and undeniable charm.

Jack pulls away from the kiss, his eyes searching yours with a mix of hope and excitement. "So, does this mean we can… you know, see where this goes?" His voice is tentative, as if he's afraid you might say no, even though your entire body is screaming yes.

You nod, smiling so wide it feels like your cheeks might split. "Yes," you reply, your voice barely more than a breath. "I'd like that."

Jack's grin turns into a full-fledged smile, his eyes sparkling like the trophies lined up in the center's display case. "Great," he says, squeezing your waist gently. "Because I've got a feeling this could be something special."

[dreaming-of-lu]

Hello there! Can I get a compilation of Wild being💅 sassy💅to Legend and Legend responding with his own ✨Spicy remarks✨

Y'all can't sit there and tell me that they do not brotherly bully each other cause they do. They are the kings of sass. I did a tad bit of it, not much a compilation, but ya know, at least there's something adhfjasdf Word Count: 283

"Whaddya mean 'he's in jail'?!" Twilight blinked in disbelief as he stared down at what was supposed two people, but instead, it was only one, and that one was Wild. The champion sheepishly smiled under the firm gaze set on him, slowly shrinking in on himself when the ranch-hand's brow furrowed deep.

"We- uhm, didn't expect it to go south, to be honest," Wild scratches the back of his head with a shaky grin. Twilight throws his hands in the air, settling them back on his hips with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head.

"Ordona, give me patience," he muttered lowly.

"It could be…worse?" Wild offered meekly.

"IT SH-," A voice piped up from behind, cutting the older hero off,

"What is with all this yelling?"

"Not now, Legen-," Twilight halts in his words, blinking rapidly before reeling on his heel with a slack jaw. There stood the veteran, looking bored, unhurt, and in the flesh. He blinked in confusion at the confuddled stares that graced him; his brows creased when the shock silence dragged on. Their gaze made him shift on his feet, skin crawling the longer they stared at him, getting antsy even when none said a word.

"What?" He snapped.

"Yo-you're supposed to be in jail!" Wild points.

"Yeah, and you're supposed to be dumpster diving for ham scraps, you six-piece chicken mcnobody." Legend snips.

"Legend!"

------------

"Geeze, you looked like you personally fist-fought a Lynel," Wild eyed the mess that framed the veteran's head. "At least, I didn't roll out the bed looking like one, unlike you," he passed him and continued on his way to the bathroom downstairs in the inn. "Well, damn," Warriors whistled, "that was brutal."