#I realize I probably should be celebrating

[arrowpunk]

Well I got a job

[nabaath-areng]

I feel so strange thinking about how I considered myself "new" in FFXIV for the longest time, as when I started playing there were so many legacy players around. I saw their mounts and their titles, I talked to them, played with them, and to me they were the experienced ones teaching me how to play my first MMO. For years I considered myself a newbie.

And then, just the other day, I see in the chat of an FC I was invited to on an alt, people talking about having played for a long time, and their longest playing member having been around for 5 years. It hit me just how long of a time that is, and how much longer passed before I'd even realized it.

I ask others if they remember various things from the past, and I can count on one hand the amount of people I meet in recent years who do. So many things I still consider new and flashy, like Gpose and job gauges for instance, have now been in the game far longer than they have not. It's a strange situation caused by me losing about a decade's worth of memories and life (due to mental health issues that practically broke me) as well as the normal feeling ot time passing without me really thinking about it. Less and less did I see the legacy titles and mounts, but I didn't pay much heed. Until one day I suddenly stop and look around, realizing that I haven't seen any legacy players at all for a while. I'm certain they're out there, but most likely not in the same sheer abundance as before.

It's a bit similar to real life, where my home was once just an old, secluded village that have now become geographically closer to the city without ever moving. Where the others I used to surround myself with have all moved on in slow trickles over the years, and where I cannot expect everyone to remember the same things that I do. So many new people everywhere, some that cause lines in the grocery store that can afford to keep running after all these years, and some that fail to load in on my weak little laptop's screen.

It's like I have two homes mirroring each other, and obviously that means I age in both of them. I bought this game as a gift for myself on my 18th birthday... and here I am 10 years later, turning 28 today, and realizing that I'm still here in both places despite everything. Waiting for another expansion all over again, just like when I was staying alive just because I wanted to play Heavensward so bad.

I can't even begin to count just how many people I've known and interacted with throughout the years in this game. There are memories that my years of paranoia and psychosis stole from me (something which I only shook off the last remnants of half a year ago), of people who I know were important to me but who I'm also unable recall much about beyond their names, which is something which fills me with both deep shame and sorrow. Some I remain in touch with to this day, and some I am mutuals with on various sites, even if we don't chat regularly anymore.

There's a lot that I don't remember, or that I even memorized in the first place. Things have changed time and again for both better and worse. But FFXIV has remained a constant throughout it all, even when I've been unsubbed due to lack of a PC and just on a general break.

I don't know what my point is with all of this really, but I guess I just really wanted to get it off my chest. It's not all sunshine and rainbows these days either, but my mental health is better than it's ever been, I have a partner and friends and family who all mean the world to me, and even though some things will forever be less than ideal, I am so so so happy that I didn't give up. Staying alive really was the best decision I ever made ❤️

[halcyon-skiess]

ITS THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN :D

It’s 11 today! Happy birthday to my favorite furries!

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

Another common thing in superhero teen characters that are super plucky and over excited. Do writers not realize that if in universe theyre writing fanfic about characters that are to us comic book superheroes but are to them Basically Celebrities that thats just re/al per/son fan/fic and its creepy. Are they just not thinking about it.

[von-eldritch]

“Not bad, but could be better. We’ll have to get mimosas and talk sometime”

Quiz link

[beloveds-embrace]

can we get Duchess reader yearning for a baby of her own 🥺 imagine there was a Ball in the neighboring kingdom and Duchess!Reader and Duke!Price was invited, celebrating the birth of the Kingdom’s new heir, a baby boy on her fellow Duchess’s arms.

And reader coos at the baby while masking the deep ache in her heart thinking that it’ll be so impossible to have a baby with her husband due to him and his lovers 😢

cue to Duchess!Reader having a heavy heart through out the entire event and even the days after that, until one of our boys asks her what wrong.

(And John having to hold Johnny back bc that nasty dog has been waiting to get his paws on her since forever)

Oh my god yes??? Anon i could smooch your brain right now yes??? This is so good i love it. Sorry for the abrupt ending though, had no idea how to finish it off 😔

Original Post

“Such an adorable little one,” you coo softly, the newborn held delicately and carefully in your arms, swaddled in the baby blue blankets you and John had bought among your other gifts for your fellow Duke and Duchess. “He looks so much like you, I’m in awe.”

Your friend laughs lightly, sipping on her drink. With a soft sigh, she leans closer towards you. The party is in full swing, so many other nobles mingling and networking, but thankfully you and your friend have your own little corner for now and everyone has already congratulated her and her husband.

“So,” she begins, her eyes flickering towards where both of you two’s husbands are speaking. The smiles on their faces are clearly happy, though you aren’t surprised; John had mentioned that he’s already friends with the Duke during the carriage ride. “So. What about you and Duke Price, hm? Any surprises we should prepare for?”

Ah. You had been dreading this.

You sigh, shaking your head. Though the smile returns as you gaze at the napping baby, so small and precious in your arms. With you friend’s permission, you gently kiss his tiny little fists. “Not at all. We are happy as we are.”

And it’s not as if you are lying by any means, oh no. You are happy. Life as Duchess was far, far much better than you had expected it’d be, a lot less restrictive than you had prepared for it to be.

But…

You can’t lie to yourself. You’ve been feeling a sense of discontent from the very second you stepped into the gala venue. Perhaps for even longer, though it hadn’t been especially felt until this moment. Not until you held this baby in your arms.

You want a baby, too, you had realized. Motherhood. A child all yours, calling you momma and toddling into your arms. You had been unable to stop yourself from feeling the little bud of jealousy towards your friend, because you knew you’d likely never experience such a thing due to your unique situation.

John has his own partners whom he loves. You weren’t among that list, and you didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of having sex with another man with the potential risk of your parents, or anyone else, asking for a paternity test because you know someone would ask. Your mother, probably; she was always warning you not to whore yourself out, and your father didn’t even need to say anything-

“My dear?”

John’s concerned voice pulls you out of your thoughts, his hand gentle on your elbow, and it’s only then you realize you had been staring down at the baby with such sadness, so not befitting of such a beautiful gala. So you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, and turn to him and your friend's husband.

When the baby squirms, you coo softly and hand him back to your friends, gentle and careful. That's when you turn to John, giving him a simple smile. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The worry remains on his face, less visible however, and his eyes look over you carefully. Your friends are too busy with their son and showing him off to care about what you two are saying in the corner he’s led you to. "Are you alright?”

As if you’d ever tell him what the issue is. You don’t want to make John feel pressured into this, of all things. You’d rather be divorced than do so, and that should speak volumes on its own.

It’s a silly want, anyways. You have everything you could possible need right now, married and stable. You aren’t about to ruin it with your own two hands.

So you nod your head, and brush away all thoughts of a little baby cradled in your arms. “Yes, I am. I was just lost in thought. Shall we return to the party?”

John observes you for a few seconds more, and then he sighs and nods. “Very well. Would you do me the honor of this dance, my dear Duchess?”

Between the dazzling lights and John’s arms, you can almost forget the lingering desire.

But over the next few days after the gala, it becomes clear to John- to all your the men that something is terribly bothering you. There is a lingering sadness around you so profound even your maids have sensed it, wondering if perhaps you and the Duke have finally had your first fight… but he looks even more more worried and confused than them. You weren’t mad at anyone, that much he could tell, but he didn’t understand the heartache plaguing you.

“…are you sick, my lady?” Kyle asks you one day, placing down a tray of fresh desserts. Your favorites, all made by Johnny himself, yet you barely flick a look towards it.

“Not at all. Thank you, Kyle, but I’m afraid I can’t eat anything at the moment.” Your reply is soft, patient, as it always is, but the furrow in your brows remain and your frown deepens. Kyle hates it. He hates it so, so much. You’ve even stopped taking your usual break-walks, staying inside your room and asking for nothing in particular.

“My lady,” he presses on, voice softer. Comes to stand close to you, and holds his elbow out. “Maybe a walk, then? You look tired. Some sun might do you good- or a picnic? I can pack the desserts and-”

You avoid his eyes and look away, shaking your head. “Thank you, but my answer’s the same, Kyle. I’d just… like to be left alone, please. Could I trouble you to also inform John I won’t be joining him for dinner tonight?”

You are simply glad you managed to hide the little paper you’d been writing on before he came in. Baby names, for the babies you’d never have. It certainly didn’t help make your mood better, but you couldn’t help yourself. Looking at John, or any of them, also made you feel guilty anew.

“…not a problem, my lady. I’ll leave the desserts here for you just in case.”

Several days later, it’s Johnny who comes to you. You are alone in the conservatory, trying hard to get over this stupid, lingering feeling. It’s silly, you know it is, but… ugh.

Johnny says nothing even when you call his name out with a questioning tone, and much to your shock, he kneels down to take your hands in his. It’s so wholly inappropriate, and you look around in fear of anyone seeing.

“No one’s around, m’lady,” Johnny shakes his head, not letting your hands go yet.

“Johnny-“

“No one’s around.” He repeats, firmly, and his eyes gaze at you. “M’lady. Have we made ye angry? Has anyone made you upset? Is my food not to your liking?”

“Johnny…” you sigh, shaking your head. Inwardly, you scold yourself for bothering everyone like this. This should have been your issue alone to solve and hide. “No, no. Nothing like that. I just need some time alone, in general.”

“But why-“

“No particular reason.” You quickly cut him off, gently pulling your hands away. “Please, Johnny. I’ll get better soon, promise. But I just… need time.”

But the desire, the longing, still remains. You can’t even confide in anyone, so you also feel painfully lonely on top of everything else. John is still searching, still trying to find what or who’s made you like this, but not even your closest maids are of help.

Still, while you wished to wallow your misery away in your rooms and office, you didn’t have much choice when you’d received an invitation to the opera troupe funded by the Price duchy; making an appearance was a must, and unfortunately John had a very important meeting that day so Simon is the one to accompany you.

“You’ve been sad lately.” Simon doesn’t beat around the bush, all the lights focused on the stage so you are both draped in shadows, hidden from sight.

You turn to him, a refusal on your lips already-

“No.” He shakes his head. “You aren’t just tired, Duchess. You are sad. Everyone can see it, and it’s making us worried. All of us.” He adds, not letting you latch onto your usual excuse. Performance ignored, his entire attention is on you.

And you are just- too tired. Ashamed of yourself, you sigh.

“It’s awful of me…” your whisper, bottom lip quivering. “I-… I want a baby, Simon.” You admit, so softly and quietly you don’t look at his reaction to see if he’d even heard you in the first place. You shouldn’t be telling him of all people your issues, but- you can’t help yourself. “A child. I want to experience motherhood, but- I don’t, I refuse to put such a burden on John, or get in the way between all of you again-“

You ramble on, not meeting his eyes. Your hands are tembling around the mask you’d taken off, holding it in your lap.

Simon?

Simon can’t take his eyes off your stomach. You. You, pregnant; swollen and glowing with a child. Maybe children, even. Their children. His. He can’t believe this is what has had you so upset for so long; did you think they- John- would say no to you?

“Darling, ” The nickname slips out; he couldn’t help himself. He is glad the no one is paying attention to them, in the higher rows. Simon laces your pinkies together, raising your hand to kiss your knuckles, silencing your worried rambling. “Darling. Let us return home. Staying here isn’t doing you any good. Tonight, I want you to let Kyle spoil you with a warm bath, and for you to eat and then sleep. Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll speak. I’ll inform the troupe leader you weren’t feeling too well.”

“I- I… speak about what? What?”

Simon simply ushers you out, to the awaiting carriage. He doesn’t answer any of your questions, even when you pout and the it makes your lipstick glisten to prettily, though if you can feel that his hands are inappropriately tight around your waist, you simply blame it on your tightened corset.

At home, you are still confused. Simon is acting off, staring at you with a look that makes you all flustered, but you don’t protest when Kyle gently leads you away.

You’ll get your answers tomorrow, you are sure. But in the meantime…

“She wants a baby, John,” Simon groans, repeating the words again. His jacket is thrown off to the side, sleeves rolled up his elbows. Even from here, he can see how John eyes them appreciatively. “A baby, John. Seeing her pregnant-“

Another groan, but the one comes from between John’s thighs. Johnny, hands tied behind his back with Simon’s belt because the second he found out what the issue he was so, so ready to go and beg you to let him fix it. A bairn is what you want, a bairn is what he’ll give you- chunky, adorable, and hopefully looking like you.

John had to hold him back, though. He wants nothing more than to do the same, kiss you breathless and promise he’ll give you as many as you want, but he also knows you need a clear, rested head before he speaks with you.

The thought of seeing your pregnant, though, has his fist tightening in Johnny’s hair.

“I know. Fuck, I know, Si. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to her.”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

burnt toast, sunday / i wanna teach you how forever feels

katsuki bakugou x reader

the morning after a fight with katsuki. for the yail series ❄️

inspired by all of the girls you loved before

bakugou sat up, groaning a bit as his back ached. he looks around, hit with his surroundings. he slept on the couch, in the midst of the living room torn apart from arguing.

he knew you were probably still pissed at him. worst of all, he couldn't even fully recall why you two had been arguing the night before. he only remembered that it was really, really bad, and you had ended up locking him out of the bedroom. just the thought of not sleeping next to you hurt blonde’s chest.

he lets out a sigh as he got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. when he sits up, he sees you walk in.

he cringes slightly, seeing your puffy red eyes. you had been crying all night, probably.

“…hey.” you say, softly.

he grunts in response, his words unable to reach his throat.

its a sunday, a quiet morning to contrast a loud, abrasive saturday night. the two of you resolve to make coffee silently, only speaking when you need a spoon he’s standing next to or when he needs you to move so he can grab the sugar.

the silence felt incredibly awkward. the two of you just stood there, quietly making your own cups of coffee. the only noise in the room was the sound of the coffeemaker brewing. bakugou’s thoughts were a mess. he couldn’t believe the two of you had gotten in such a big fight, and he wasn't even entirely sure why it happened. but he knew he was probably at fault, he was the one with the explosive personality after all.

he curses at himself quietly when he realizes he grabbed two pieces of bread. he does that normally- one for you, and one for him. but right now, you’re pissed at each other. he’s a little worried that making two pieces of toast will be seen as a violent act of aggression.

he moves to grab plates, too absent minded to notice that the toast is now burning. you take it out for him. thats when he noticed you’re still wearing his shirt, even though you’re mad.

he picks up his phone and scrolls, trying to distract himself. thats when he remembers what the fight was about.

whoever it was that got ahold of katsuki bakugou’s dating history was really obsessed or really, really bored, maybe both. for whatever reason, his fans were now talking about all his previous partners, the good and the bad. and, because you’re dating a celebrity, they just have to question your worthiness to be dating the handsome and strong dynamight.

he feels his anger flare up as he doom-scrolls some more. it pisses him off, thinking about how people would so mindlessly say things. it pisses him off more that its getting to you. don’t you know that he loves you?

he has yet to do anything about it, to address his dating life and who he’s with now. truthfully, katsuki doesn’t feel like he should have to. his pr team already works overtime for his asshole-self, anyway.

he’s so distracted by his own thoughts, he fails to notice the way his elbow knocks over your mug, sending it shattering on the floor. maybe its the silence, but you honestly jump a little when it happens.

both you simply stand there at first, blinking. did he do that on purpose? no, he wouldn’t break his own mugs.

maybe he just wanted your attention.

nonetheless, you wave it off with a soft “its okay” before kneeling down and carefully cleaning up the shards. he’s silent as he gets down in front of you, helping you clean the mess he made.

he wants to tell you its okay, and that he’ll take care of it. he wants to tell you that he’s sorry and that he loves you. but this is the closest he’s physically been to you since the argument, and he wants to relish in it for a moment.

“are you still mad at me?”

he almost flinches when he hears your meek voice. why would he be mad at you?

“..what are you talking about, babe?” he sighs, his voice gruff.

he is mad, but not at you. mostly at himself for not seeing how the recent speculations about him had been bothering you.

“i don’t wanna repeat myself. i just… i don’t know. i know you don’t want me to care about what everyone else is saying, but, i do.” you admit, still on the floor in front of him. at this point, you’ve both forgotten about the coffee and the shards.

he can see how upset you are, and it makes his chest tighten. “yeah, well… i don’t want those shitty extras getting to you. even if what they’re saying is the farthest thing from the damn truth.”

he so desperately wants you to know that he loves you. that when he’s with you, he doesn’t think of all the times he woke up to someone else, feeling alone. he doesn’t think of late night arguments that left him feel empty. when he looks into your eyes, he’s reminded of everything he wants to protect.

but you don’t see that as clearly as he does. “i guess i just… wonder if you agree with them. you never say anything to address those rumours, about your exes. and its not your fault, i get you don’t want to get involved, but, still…”

bakugou’s heart twinges as you bring up those accusations. he hates that you wonder such things, that you wonder if he agrees with those rumours or not. he wants to reassure you that you are the one he loves, the only one he loves. but he knows you wouldn't believe him right now, especially since he's been acting so shitty towards you lately.

“damn it, dumbass, i just want you to know that i love you. not any of those other bitches.”

“i don’t like when you call them that, katsuki.” you correct him. he nods, though both of you should be used to his sailor tongue by now.

“they’re people you’ve loved before… and thats okay. sometimes i just wonder if you love me more. i know its stupid.” you sigh.

he finally gets the courage to hold your hand, his calluses gentle against your skin. “..i feel i shouldn’t have to say it, i guess. in my head, you’re the only damn person in the world who matters.”

“maybe i’m just insecure.” you chuckle, self deprecatingly. you’re both tired of the arguing, now. “you’re #1, you’re gorgeous… and i’m me.”

he looks at you like you’re a complete idiot for that.

he hated hearing you say those things about yourself like it was a bad thing, that you were just you.

“just you? you really think it’s a bad thing to be you, dumbass?”

he pulls you in tighter, wanting you to really hear what he says.

“you’re amazing, you're incredible. there’s no one else I want to be with. I don't want anyone else, just you. you’re way too good for me, [y/n], in more ways i can count.”

“…you really mean that?”

he scoffs, a beautiful smile on his face. “yeah, i mean it. i love you.”

you give him that smile he loves, the one that made him fall so deeply in love with you all those years ago. “thats all you had to say, kats.”

your past and his are parallel lines. he isn’t sure how he got so lucky. how, by some cosmic miracle, the starts aligned so he could intertwine with you. you’re all he needs.

he hugs you deep, burying his face into your neck. he loves how you smell, how smooth your skin is. theres bot much proof, but he sees enough in you. he feels enough when he holds you, his entire world in his arms.

“i’m sorry.” he says, quietly for only you to hear. “you’re everything to me. i’m in love with you.”

your heart swells, ignoring the burnt toast and spilled coffee. you’re wearing his shirt, and he’s keeping his word. thats enough to make you melt, hugging him back, arms thrown around his muscular back. “i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have doubted you. i love you too.”

he pulls back slightly to kiss you, making sure you’re in front of him and that this is real. for once, he let’s go of all of his fears and his ghosts. you’re his best friend, the love of his life and every beautiful thing he loves. he hears it in the silence, on his way home, and in your voice.

“if anything, i think i’m grateful for everyone you’ve loved before.” you chuckle, face close to his. his blonde eyebrows knit in confusion. “what do you mean, babe?”

“because the people you love make who you are, even if you’ve only loved them for a moment.” you say, squeezing his hand. “all those dead-end streets led you to me.”

he pauses, strange look on his face when he realizes you’re right. all that fake love, the teenage heartbreak and pains he’s been through- it’s made him the man you love. all those breakups, those unsaid goodbyes, they’ve led him hear.

he huffs, and then smiles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“i wouldn’t change a damn thing, then.” he says. “it all led me to you, dumbass.”

you stroke his cheek affectionately, pressing a kiss to his temple. his eyes close when you do that, relaxing into your touch. everyone that he knew brought him hear. and now, he gets to know what forever feels like.

“and in the end, it doesn’t matter who loved you before.” you conclude. “cause i love you more.”

he almost laughs at how cliché it is, resigning to press kisses all over your face. “i love you more, i’m not arguing on that.” he says, holding you in his lap. he’s tough, and explosive, and “too good for all that clingy couple bullshit”. at least, thats what he lets the world believe.

you’re his, and he’s yours. he’s so god damn thankful for everyone you’ve loved before. ‘cause now he gets to love you 10x more.

[covenofagatha]

Birthday Girl

On your 21st birthday, your friends drag you to a bar to get wasted when you decide it's a good idea to drunk-call Professor Agatha Harkness.

Word count: 3400+

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, intoxication, mentions of underage drinking, teacher x student (legal)

“One, two, three!” Wanda chants and you and your friends tap your shot glasses on the bar counter and quickly down them. 

You gasp at the burn and they laugh at you. It’s your 21st birthday and your best friends Wanda, Rio, and Natasha had dragged you out to the closest bar to get you wasted. They had all already turned 21 the year before; you were the baby in the group. 

“Fuck, that’s disgusting,” you groan. 

“Another round, please!” Rio motions to the bartender. He sets down four more tequila shots and one is shoved into your hand. 

“Think you can get to 21?” Wanda jokes and the thought of 20 more shots makes you want to gag. 

“I might puke after this one,” you say and your friends laugh. You were never a partier in high school or college, always preferring to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. You’d only had some sips of alcohol a few times, but you had never been drunk. 

“You deserve this!” Nat shouts in your ear. “Harkness has been working you to the bone!” 

You shrug and wave your hand dismissively, suddenly uncomfortable. Agatha Harkness is your History of Witchcraft professor at Westview University. She’s known around campus for being cold to everyone and rarely giving out A’s. She expected nothing short of excellence and would not put up with excuses. Everyone was terrified of her. 

Everyone except for you. 

Something about the older woman captivated you. You were obsessed with meeting her standards, dreaming of the day she would look at you with pride. You poured over your books for her class, rereading every sentence you wrote thrice, just to try to impress her. It had taken your friends days of begging to convince you to come celebrate your birthday with them because you had a paper for Agatha’s class due in a week and you were already worried about it. 

“I don’t know how you’re surviving,” Wanda says. “I had her last semester and got a C in the class. Third highest grade. She’s the worst.” 

“She’s not that bad,” you defend, not quite sure why. Something about Agatha getting so much hate for pushing her students rubs you the wrong way. 

“Yeah she is,” Rio joins in. “I heard that she’s a real witch.”

You roll your eyes. “Can we please stop talking about her? I thought you guys brought me here to get away from school.” You take the shot that’s still in your hand and it goes down smoother this time. 

“Yes, there we go!” Rio whoops. 

Two more shots later and your head has gone completely fuzzy. You feel as if you are floating on air and everything around you is happening in slow motion. You get off your stool and immediately stumble, Wanda catching you with her arms. 

“I think I’m a little drunk,” you tell her. She laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“No shit, y/n, you don’t have to yell!” 

You didn’t even realize you had. “We should probably go back to the dorms!” You look around to see Nat chatting with some girl and Rio throwing darts at the board in the corner. 

“Not yet,” Wanda says, picking up her rum and coke. You’re not sure how she’s still drinking after she also did four tequila shots. “I’ll get you some water.” She signals to the bartender and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your vision to go back to normal. 

When you open them, you see dark hair in the corner. Is that–? You shift so you can get a better look and feel sorely disappointed when you realize the person is not Agatha. Why are you disappointed? The thought echoes in your head for a second, and then is replaced by a sudden urge to see your professor. 

“Drink this,” Wanda orders, pressing a glass of ice water into your hand, but you’re too busy scrolling through your phone. You know she put her number on the syllabus somewhere and you are too far gone to think that this might be a bad idea. 

You feel a thrill run through you when you find it. You read the number over and over, like you’re afraid it’s going to change somehow. 

“I’ll be back,” you slur to Wanda and then step out the side door into the alley. You type the number into your phone and your finger hesitates over the call button. You know you shouldn’t. But fuck it. You press the button and lift the phone to your ear. 

It rings. And then rings again. You’re about to hang up to spare yourself the rejection when the call connects. 

“Hello?” It’s actually her. 

Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up straighter. “Professor Harkness?” 

“Y/n? Is that you?” 

“Yeah.” Shit, this was a bad idea. Even with your head still swimming, you know that. You can’t just hang up though. 

“Why are you calling me at 10:30 on a Saturday night?” 

“Um,” you say, trying to think of something. You’re definitely going to have to drop her class after this. You’ll never be able to face her ever again. “It’s my birthday?” You offer lamely. 

Agatha scoffs. “Happy birthday. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, Professor, I just wanted – we’re at a bar – I thought you were – and just wanted to say hi,” you ramble, knowing you’re not making any sense, and you can almost hear her smirk through the phone. 

“Y/n, are you drunk right now?” Her voice perks up and it sounds like she’s finally interested. 

“No!” you protest. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m 21 now!” 

“What bar are you at?” 

“Jimmy’s.” It’s a local dive bar that is a popular place for Westview students to hang out at. 

“I’ll be there in ten. Wait out front.” There’s a click and then she’s gone. You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Is Agatha coming to pick you up? Why?

You walk back into the bar and order a Dirty Shirley. The call had sobered you up a bit and if you had already drunk-called your professor, why not get even more hammered. Wanda comes back over to you and giggles when she sees the new drink in your hand. 

“Alright, time to party!” she exclaims. You pick up on the fact that she’s a little drunk as well. You stand up, vision blurring for a second. 

“I actually called an uber,” you lie, even through your hazy mind knowing that your professor coming to pick you up might sound strange to them.

Wanda pouts and then throws her arms around you. “Happy birthday,” she says into your ear and your arms tighten around her. 

“Thank you,” you breathe back. You’re close with Rio and Nat as well, but they don’t have the same bond you and Wanda do. You pull back and then go say goodbye to your other friends. 

The wind outside does very little to sober you up and you shiver from the coldness. You’re wearing a purple crop-top and a black mini-skirt, something Nat had found buried deep in your closet. You watch the time on your phone, heartbeat picking up as it gets closer to ten minutes since Agatha had hung up on you. 

And then right on the dot, a slick black Range Rover pulls into the parking lot, and you immediately know it’s her. The car stops right in front of you, the passenger window rolling down, and your breath catches. 

It’s Professor Harkness, clad in a maroon suit, wavy hair falling over her shoulders. 

“Do you need me to open the door for you, too, princess?” Agatha says, sarcasm dripping over the words, when you haven’t moved. You shake your head, partly to answer and partly to clear the fog. You settle into the seat, not missing the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your skimpily clothed body.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” you mutter, putting real effort into not slurring your words. 

She glances at you and sees you struggling with your seatbelt. She reaches over and you freeze at her close proximity. Her breath is hot against your cheek and her fingers brush your stomach as she takes the seat belt from your hand and buckles it for you. “Thought I would spare the other people you drunk-called,” she says. 

Embarrassment runs through you. “You were the only one,” you say meekly, picking at a scab on your hand. You dare to peek at her, only to find her smirking, one eyebrow quirked. 

“Oh?”

“I shouldn’t have called.” This time, it’s harder to keep your words from running together. “We were talking about you and then I thought I saw you and I just wanted to see you.” You need to stop talking, now. 

Agatha hums. “Did you, now?” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears as she shifts the car into drive and you watch her fingers. 

“You’re really hot,” you blurt out and then clamp a hand over your mouth. Fuck. 

Instead of pulling over and making you get out, like you thought she would, Agatha simply reaches over and pats your leg. “And you’re really drunk, sweetheart.” 

The pet name makes you swoon inwardly. “Not that drunk,” you say unconvincingly. “I only had one…two…” You trail off, attempting to count the number of drinks on your fingers. Agatha stifles a chuckle. 

“Is this your first time drinking?” She asks, amused. 

“No, but it is my first time drinking this much,” you admit. “My friends dragged me out since it’s my birthday. I was going to work on the essay for your class.” 

“You were going to spend your 21st birthday doing school work?” 

“Your essay’s due in a week. I wanted to make sure I-it was good enough for you.” 

She notices your slip of tongue and her smirk sends heat down low in your stomach. “You’re always good for me. Your essays are some of the best I’ve ever read.” 

Your heart skips a beat and your face flushes. “I have a B in your class.” 

“You have an 88 in my class. That’s the highest I’ve had in years. Can’t make it too easy,” she says with a wink. 

“You could make it just a little easier,” you grumble, the alcohol clearly getting rid of any inhibitions. 

“You keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart, and it’ll go up, I promise. I’m very impressed with the work you’ve been turning in.”

A hot flash runs through you. “Just wanna be your good girl.” And if it wasn’t clear how you feel about her now, it sure is. But she doesn’t look disgusted or creeped out, only intrigued. 

She finally stops the car and you peer out the window, expecting to see your dorm. You haven’t been paying attention to where she’s been driving at all, and you’re quite surprised to see you’ve arrived at a two-story house in a cute, suburban neighborhood. 

“This isn’t where I live,” you say dumbly. 

“No, it’s not,” she agrees, getting out of the car and walking over to help you. You stumble up the steps to the front door, Agatha’s tight grip on your shoulder keeping you upright. You can feel her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. 

She unlocks the front door just as a wave of nausea hits you. “Oh, god,” you say weakly, holding a hand in front of your mouth. Agatha doesn’t even seem phased; she leads you to a bathroom in the hall and leaves, only to re-enter with a glass of water moments later. You gulp it down and feel better. 

“You okay?” she asks softly, stroking your cheek, eyes tracing up and down your face. You’ve never seen this side of her and you really like it. 

“I think so. Thank you again,” you murmur and you realize that you’ve been staring at her mouth. 

“Anything for my favorite student.” 

And then, because you’re apparently determined to fuck everything up even more, you lean in and press your lips to hers. Agatha stands still for a second before you pull back, horrified with yourself. 

“Professor, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” 

She draws you back in for a longer kiss this time, tongue licking into your mouth. You let out a long moan and she breaks away. 

“You’re drunk,” she tells you again.

You clasp the lapels of her blazer. “I know. But I want you.” 

She softly pries your fingers off her suit and smiles. “You need to sleep. And then we can talk about this in the morning.” 

You pout and she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down. You suck her finger into your mouth, delighting in the way her eyes darken. She steps back.

“Let’s go. You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll find you some pajamas and toiletries.” Her hand on the small of your back guides you up the stairs and to the room on the right. The guest room is simple but cozy and you immediately go to the bed and flop onto it. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” Agatha warns and then leaves the room. 

She comes back in a few minutes, an old shirt and sweatpants in one hand and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the other. She pats your legs in an effort to get you up but you can barely move, suddenly weighed down by all the drinks. 

“Come on, hon,” Agatha says and helps you stand up. You don’t move as she works to take your shirt and skirt off, your cheeks and upper chest flushing red. You try to cover yourself and she smirks. 

“M’sorry,” you mumble. 

“Don’t be. I’m enjoying the view.” You stare at her longingly, silently begging her to fuck you right there and then, but she helps you step into the sweatpants and pull the shirt over your head. She watches you brush your teeth and moves the covers so you can get into bed. “Do you need anything else?” 

Your hand grabs hers. “Just you,” you try again hopefully, but she chuckles and wrenches free of your grip. 

“Good night, birthday girl,” she whispers and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. And then she turns off the lights and leaves the room.

You fall asleep immediately. 

***

Sunlight streams through the blinds, waking you up. It takes you a minute to get your bearings and then the events of last night come back to you. 

The bar. Four shots of tequila and half a Dirty Shirley. Calling Agatha and her coming to pick you up and taking you to her house. Kissing her in the downstairs bathroom. Shit. 

You groan, head pounding. You see a container of Advil and a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. You take two Advil and drain the glass, heart warming at the thought of Agatha taking such good care of you. 

And then you remember that your relationship with her will forever be complicated by your actions. 

You solemnly brush your teeth and pull back on the clothes you wore to the bar last night, neatly folding Agatha’s pajamas and placing them on the bed. You hope she hasn’t woken up yet so you can sneak out without her having to tell you how inappropriate you behaved last night. 

No such luck. The second you get downstairs, Agatha perks up from where she’s typing on her laptop on the couch.

“Good morning, darling,” she purrs, shutting her computer. You gulp, taking her outfit in. She’s wearing a robe that ends mid-thigh and the neckline drops low. 

“Hey,” you say casually, trying to hide how much you’re internally freaking out. 

“Do you want something for breakfast? I can cook you something.” She stands up and walks to the kitchen and you follow like a lost puppy. You involuntarily lick your lips at the way her hips are swaying. 

“What are my options?” Your voice is raspy, still feeling hungover. She glances back at you and her eyes dart up and down your body. 

“I can make eggs. Bacon. I think I have pancake mix in the pantry. What would you like?” 

You’re a little confused that she hasn’t scolded you yet. And then you remember something else. She kissed you. 

You swallow hard. Whatever else you may have done last night that you can’t remember, she doesn’t hate you for it. She might even want you back. 

“Are you on the menu?” It comes out before you can even realize what you’re saying. 

Agatha freezes and turns around. You shift your weight nervously, but then you see her pupils blown out. Her eyes are so dark you can barely see any blue. “What?” She asks carefully.

“You kissed me last night,” you say, a little breathless. You have absolutely no idea where this confidence is coming from. “You wouldn’t do anything else cause I was drunk. But I’m not drunk now.” 

She steps toward you and roughly grasps your hair. She tilts your head back, exposing your neck just a tad. “No, you’re not.” She regards you for a second. “You know you’re not going to get extra credit for trying to sleep with your professor.” 

You laugh. “That’s not why I’m doing this.” 

She smirks. “Good.” And then she licks a hot stripe up your neck and bites down, sucking a mark on your skin. You gasp loudly and tangle your hands into her hair. 

“Professor,” you moan and you drag her into a filthy kiss. She backs you up until your thighs hit the table so she lifts you up onto it. Your legs wrap around her to pull her closer. Agatha pushes up your crop-top and kneads your breast, thumb stroking your nipple, never once breaking your kiss.

Her hand creeps under your skirt and cups your mound over your underwear. Your hips jump on their own at the stimulation. 

“Please,” you beg. Her lips curl into a smile. 

“What do you want?” Her fingers have pushed your underwear to the side and have started lazily stroking through your folds, spreading your wetness. 

“You,” is all you can say before she sinks a finger into your hole. 

“Like this?” She asks innocently, thrusting hard. 

“Yes,” you pant, quickly untying her robe so you can touch her. She’s completely naked underneath and you lean down so you can take a nipple into your mouth. 

“That’s perfect, baby,” she sighs, setting a relentless pace with her fingers after she slips another one in you. “Is this what you hoped would happen when you called me last night?”

“I’ve been hoping for this since the first day of the semester,” you answer, and she falters for a second, thrown off by your honesty. 

She pulls out of you and panic runs through you, terrified that you said the wrong thing. But she just pushes you down so your back is resting on the table and she pulls out one of the chairs from the table. 

“What are you–” Before you can finish your sentence, she leans forward and sucks your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the table, hands rushing down to hold her in place. “Fuck, Professor!” 

She devours your pussy like she’s a starving woman, pulling all sorts of loud noises from you. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, hips grinding on her face, trying to get the last bit of stimulation you need to send you over the edge. She knows what you need and presses her fingers inside you, curling them just right and gives your clit a hard last lick. You cum harder than you ever have before, her name on your lips like a prayer. She helps you ride through the aftershocks and then trails kisses up your body until she can kiss your mouth. 

“How was that?” she asks after you pull away to catch your breath. 

“That was probably the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” you say, which cracks both of you up. “But I’m not finished.” 

Her eyebrow quirks up and she smirks. “Oh?” You stand up, putting your hands on her hips and flipping her around so she’s leaning against the table. 

You sink to your knees in front of you, not even bothering with a chair. You slowly push her robe up so it bunches at her waist. “Can I return the favor?” 

A glint appears in her eye and she fists one of her hands in your hair preemptively. “I’d like nothing more.” 

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny- pt. 10

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9]

“This you?”

Danny glanced at the stone tablet in Spoiler’s hands and groaned, Phantom form flickering with embarrassment as his face got even more neon green. It was indeed him.

——

The first Atlantean and Ghost King encounter went something like this:

Imagine Danny, sleep deprived. Easy enough. Now, imagine Danny, trying to corral a ghost that had a penchant for sea life.

“Alabastor, I swear to Ancients, if you don’t get back here, I’m gonna make you into ghost sea-food boil!” Danny yelled as he chased Alabastor through the ghost zone. The crustacean shaped ghost cackled, skittering along the Zone.

"Make me, Phantom! You have not seen the might of the sea!"

"That's it, soup-time, crabby!"

Danny dove after Alabastor, chasing him face first into a temporal portal and right into the sea.

"BEHOLD!" Alabastor rumbled, claws raised and sea churning around him. Danny flew at him, noticing the screaming people below. He quickly raised a dome of clear ice to protect their entire city before returning his attention back to the giant crustacean. The distraction cost him, as Alabastor blasted him with a beam of his power. "THE MIGHT OF THE SEA!"

"SOUP!" Danny bellowed back, Alabastor's power forcing him into a giant crab form, aside from, hilariously, his head. Danny, always quick to adapt, slammed a massive claw straight into one of Alabastor's eyes and popped open the Fenton Thermos with a feral grin. In but moments, Danny manages to soup Alabastor but not before slamming him down onto the unbreakable ice Danny had just made.

Carefully turning by skittering sideways, he unmelted his ice.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly to the gawking civilians below.

"Suh-ree? What is suh-ree?" A brave woman asked.

"Oh," Danny uttered as he realized that he should probably switch languages. His giant crab body and small itty bitty human head swayed in an unsure motion. "Sorry means "my apologies." I had not meant to involve you. I am Phantom."

"It is alright... thank you for protecting us... God Phantom?"

He grimaced. "Not a god."

"King, then." She stepped forward. "May I ask of the ice?"

——

Spoiler, sensing weakness like the Riddler to a riddle, leaned in. "Did you know they have a traditional dance to honor the god that gave them the unbreakable ice that protects Atlantis to this day? It goes like this," Spoiler stepped back and did the dance, complete with exaggerated arm movements and, embarrassingly, the scuttle walk Crab!Danny was forced to learn with his new crab form.

"We shall never speak of this again," Danny huffed.

"But King Phantom, the God of Eternal Ice and Protection, how could we not celebrate your iciness?" Spoiler simpered, Black Bat not too far away and shaking with laughter. The purple donning vigilante did the scuttle dance once more, picking up bottles as she went a small circle around one of Bludhaven's rock beaches.

Danny scowled and plucked the tablet away from her, hair flowing an a more agitated direction. His jumpsuit burned brighter. "Why are you two menaces in Bludhaven? I thought your territory was in Gotham."

"Nightwing asked for back up and we were in the area." Spoiler, blessedly, stopped the walk to answer him. "By the way, are you and Danny dating?"

"Pardon?" He asked, insulted but highly amused.

"Oh, you know, he has your number, and you only ever talk to him outside of us, and how you guys have a high level of communication." Spoiler said leadingly.

Oh, Danny knew what this was about now. He found out their identities and now these two are interrogating him because he liked them best. They thought they were so clever. Well, they clearly haven't gotten to know Danny at all if they thought he was going to make good decisions.

Danny tilted his head, making sure his face gets as eerie as possible, shadows elongating and eyes burning just that much brighter. The neon green of his face shone even brighter against the suddenly dark landscape of the place. Black Bat stood up, laughter seizing immediately. Spoiler tensed.

"I have a riddle for you. You are good at those, are you not?"

Spoiler blinked but gamely said, "Bring it."

"What do these things have in common? An arguing couple, papers on a stranger's desk, and Star City's robbers."

"..." Spoiler slipped into her solving mode. "Stolen goods. Stolen hearts?" She guessed.

"No. The answer is that they're all none of your business," Danny snarled. His form flickered. "Keep your questing away from Danny- Daniel, vigilante. Your duty is to protect your city and help her," Danny swept an arm out. "Stick to that instead of inserting yourself into places you are not wanted."

Then, with a toss of an ecto-crossed recorder that held the verbal report he'd promised Nightwing towards Black Bat, Danny blinked out of the visible spectrum and flew above the two.

"... Shit, I think I pissed him off."

Black Bat nodded. "He was defensive."

"Yeah... did you hear that slip? Oh, they are so dating."

Danny grinned. He couldn't wait for Tim to interrogate him soon.

——

"You're kidding."

Danny shook his head, maniacal grin still on his face hours later. He'd taken the liberty to call his best friends before classes started for the day.

Tucker groaned. "Danny, I can't believe you're messing with Batman. Why are you like this."

"Look, I need your help."

"Oh no, keep me out of your dumbass plans, Fenton," Sam pointed at him through the screen, immaculately painted black nails threatening.

"Okay, if you go along with my plan, I'll give you Dr. Isley's number."

"Deal," Sam said immediately, changing her tune at a drop of a hat. Or, at a drop of a number.

"What about me?" Tucker asked, offended. "I deserve compensation for my work too, dammit!"

"I'll give you Tim Drake's number and persuade him to let you have a crack at Wayne Industry's tech basement."

"Deal, what are we doing?"

Danny's grin spread even wider. "We're dating. And, you two? You're Phantom's exes. Tucker, you say good stuff about me. Sam? You make up terrible things about me. But we're all dating each other and I'm dating Phantom on the side."

"I hate you," Sam deadpanned. "But fine, it's not that hard. I've got tons of embarrassing stories about Phantom. You better get me that number, Danny, because you know Dr. Isley was my gay awakening."

"For Tim Drake, I'd be willing to puff up your ego." Tucker said solemnly.

"Perfect. I'm cleaning his brother of ectoplasm today. so expect a call later! Love you guys!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, boyfriend." Sam clicked off the call.

"Think Tim Drake would be interested in a date?" Tucker asked Danny.

"Nah, I think he's got his heart on Benard."

"Damn," Tucker sighed. "Guess I'll have to mend my broken heart with the tools of a state-of-the-art lab, right, Danny?"

"Yep, see ya!" Danny hung up. Today was going to be a good day.

[driverlando]

✧.* #NUDEGATE

synopsis- Oscar accidentally posts a nude on his instagram story

before you continue: similar to the sex tape leak smau for lando! if you enjoyed please reblog and give me a follow <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

—

✧.* Oscar’s reaction

You and Oscar are lounging on the couch, enjoying a rare quiet afternoon together. The TV is on, but neither of you is really watching it. You’re curled up against him, scrolling through your phone, while he’s half-asleep, his arm wrapped around you.

Suddenly, Oscar’s phone rings, startling both of you. He fumbles to grab it from the coffee table, squinting at the screen. “It’s Zak,” he says, his voice tinged with confusion. He answers the call, putting it on speaker.

“Oscar, mate, you need to check your Instagram story right now,” Zak’s urgent voice fills the room.

Oscar sits up, wide awake now. “What? Why?”

“Just do it,” Zak insists. “You’ve posted something you shouldn’t have.”

Your heart drops as you both realise what this might mean. Oscar quickly opens his Instagram, his fingers shaking slightly. He taps on his story and his face goes pale. “Oh my God,” he mutters.

You peek over his shoulder and see it—a very revealing photo that’s definitely not meant for public eyes. “Oh no,” you breathe, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Delete it, Oscar. Now,” Zak commands.

Oscar doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly deletes the story, his hands moving in a blur. “It’s gone,” he says, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Zak. I didn’t realize…”

Zak’s tone is exasperated but with a hint of amusement. “Oscar, you might want to double-check before you post anything in the future. Your fans probably didn’t expect to see that.”

Oscar groans, dropping his phone onto the sofa. “I can’t believe I did that.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Well, you did say you wanted to give your fans a closer look at your life.”

He shoots you a horrified look before bursting into laughter. “Not that close!”

Zak’s voice comes through the speaker, chuckling. “Look, just be more careful next time. And maybe invest in some clothes.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, still laughing. “Got it, Zak. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime. And Oscar, maybe don’t make this a regular thing, yeah? We’re trying to win races, not start an OnlyFans,” Zak says before ending the call.

Oscar drops his head into his hands, still laughing. “I can’t believe this.”

You wrap your arms around him, grinning. “At least we know your followers are getting a lot of exposure to their favourite driver.”

He groans, his face flushing again. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You kiss his cheek. “Probably not. But hey, now you’ve got a funny story to tell.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Only if you promise to never let me use Instagram unsupervised again.”

You laugh. “Deal. And maybe we should stick to cute couple selfies from now on.”

Oscar nods, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or maybe… I should make sure all my posts have wardrobe approval from you first.”

You grin. “I can work with that.”

—

—

—

—

SCANDAL ON THE GRID: Oscar Piastri’s Instagram Mishap

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In a hilarious yet shocking turn of events, McLaren’s rising star Oscar Piastri has become the latest cautionary tale for digital privacy and social media blunders. Early yesterday morning, fans got more than they bargained for when Piastri accidentally posted a revealing photo to his Instagram story, sending the F1 community into a frenzy. The incident has drawn comparisons to similar celebrity slip-ups, such as Chris Evans’ infamous social media mishap.

The mishap was quickly addressed in a series of tweets by Piastri himself. The first tweet, brimming with sheepish humour, read: “So… that wasn’t supposed to happen. Apologies to everyone. Lesson learned: double-check before posting. #SorryMum”

Just minutes later, he followed up with a more serious note on the importance of digital security: “On a serious note, let’s talk about digital privacy. Make sure you’re securing your accounts and double-checking before you post. Lesson learned. #StaySafeOnline”

As if the situation wasn’t already comedic gold, Piastri’s McLaren teammate and fellow prankster, Lando Norris, couldn’t resist adding his comment. “Oh Oscar mate, you need lessons on how to use Instagram properly. Always give your phone to a responsible adult if you’re not sure,” Norris retweeted Piastri to ensure the ribbing hit home.

To top it all off, Piastri’s model girlfriend, Y/N, chimed in with her own playful jab: “I literally leave him alone for a minute and this is what happens…”

Insiders close to the couple revealed that Zak Brown, McLaren’s CEO, was the first to alert Piastri to the accidental post, calling him in a tone that was reportedly both urgent and amused. “Oscar, mate, you need to check your Instagram story right now,” Brown had said, trying to suppress laughter while maintaining his authoritative stance.

Despite the embarrassing slip-up, fans were quick to rally around Piastri, appreciating his candid and humorous approach to the situation. “At least we know he’s human!” one fan tweeted, while another quipped, “This is why Oscar Piastri is my favourite—he’s real, he’s relatable, and he’s hilariously unfiltered.”

The incident has sparked a flurry of memes and jokes across social media, solidifying Piastri’s place not just as a talented driver, but as a beloved personality in the F1 world.

While the dust settles on this unexpected reveal, Piastri’s misadventure serves as a humorous reminder of the perils of social media. As the young driver himself advised, securing your accounts and double-checking before posting is a lesson everyone can take to heart.

As for Piastri, it seems he’ll be keeping a much closer eye on his phone from now on, with a little help—and a lot of teasing—from his friends and family.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, logansargeant and 207,256 others

oscarpiastri me when I got a call from Zak to check my Instagram story 😅 Thanks for the support, everyone. And to McLaren for not firing me.

view all 9,268 comments

user1 I wish I was a fly on the wall during that conversation with Zak 🤣

oscarpiastri I promise I’m a responsible person btw!!

↳ yourusername sure honey, sure

user2 you’re such a grandpa when it comes to technology

yourusername Still can’t believe you managed to do this 😭

↳ user3 was he trying to send you the nude or something 😂

↳ user4 they’re kinky af, he was definitely sending her a pic

user5 where can I see this nude? 👀

↳ user6 search up #nudegate on twitter, it’s trending

↳ user5 HOLY SHIT! good to know he keeps a stubble down there 🥵

↳ user6 I don’t even wanna know how big he is erect, like that man is hungggg

logansargeant only you 😂

—

—

✧.* Y/n loves adding fuel to the fire

—

mclaren

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 187,268 others

mclaren nothing to see here, just two guys who love keeping our pr team on their toes #sendhelp

view all 2,618 comments

landonorris why he say fuck me for?

↳ user7 please you know exactly why 😂

oscarpiastri whoops, hey that’s why we have a pr team right?

user8 just a couple of besties 🫶

oscarpiastri is it roast Oscar day or something?

↳ yourusername after the stunt you pulled…yes.

user9 the best duo!! 😂

user10 mclaren pr have the patience of a saint 😭

—

✧.* Lando finally gets his payback

[storiesforallfandoms]

winner ~ josh futturman;future man

word count: 2263

request?: no

description: in which she walks in on her best friend..."celebrating" his big win, and decides to help him

pairing: josh futterman x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (masturbation, oral - m receiving, unprotected p in v, josh is a bottom bitch but we been knew)

masterlist (one, two, three)

My hand was raised to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. Mrs. Futturman smiled at me. "Oh, hello (Y/N)! Come on in!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Futturman," I said as I stepped past her. "Is Josh home?"

"Yes, he's upstairs in his room playing that fantasy game he loves so much."

Of course he was. I could've predicted that. If Josh wasn't at work, he was locked in his bedroom trying to beat an unbeatable video game. If I was ever able to actually coax him out of his room to come over to my place, all he'd do was talk about the game. It was like an addiction for him. I guess it could've been worse; Josh could actually be socializing and getting a girlfriend.

Yeah, I know. Best girl friend with a crush on my best guy friend cliche. Unrequited crush on a friend and all that.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Mr. Futturman said as he came down the hallway. "Looking for Joshy?"

"That I am, Mr. Futturman. I know he's in his room."

"Diane and I are going out for a few hours. Help yourselves to whatever you want!"

Josh's dad patted me on the shoulder and his mom smiled at me before they both walked out. I watched as they got into their car, then turned to do exactly as Mr. Futturman said: help myself to whatever I wanted. I grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and one of Mrs. Futturman's famous cupcakes. I would've grabbed one for Josh, too, but if he was deep enough into his game I knew he wouldn't be eating for a while.

I climbed the stairs to Josh's room. If we hadn't been such good friends, I would've knocked on his door instead of just walking in. If I had paid more attention to the sounds coming from his room instead of his mom's delicious cupcake, I would've realized they were not the sounds of his video game.

Honestly, if I hadn't come over at all, I wouldn't have seen what I did.

Because instead of finding my best friend deep in his game, I found him with his head thrown back against his gaming chair and his hand wrapped around his cock, furiously pumping. The sounds coming from his mouth were sinful and things I definitely should not be hearing. I was frozen, watching the entire situation that I knew I should not have been watching. I was so shocked that my drink and cupcake slipped from my hand. The soda can clattered to the floor, soda spilling all over the floor at my feet. It was that sound that finally made Josh open his eyes and turn to look at me. I could only imagine my panicked expression matched the one on his face.

"Shit," he breathed, trying to pull up his boxers.

I finally remembered myself and turned away as he tried to cover himself. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"You could've knocked!"

"When do I ever knock, dickhead?" I could hear him still struggling. I fought every urge that was telling me to turn around and look at him again. "Your parents told me you were playing Biotic Wars."

"I was. I - uh - I beat the game. I was...celebrating."

Under different circumstances, I'd probably get very excited over Josh beating his game. That would make him the first person to ever beat Biotic Wars in the entire world. It was certainly an achievement worth celebrating.

But a different idea crossed my mind.

I turned back to Josh, who still had his pants around his ankles and his boxers haphazardly pulled up. I could still see the outline of his hard cock fighting against the material of his boxers.

"Maybe I can help you celebrate."

He looked at me in confusion. I swallowed my nerve and started across the room. Josh's eyes followed my every move as I came to stand in front of him. His eyes widened as I sank to my knees in front of him. I watched his face as I reached for the waistband of his boxers, waiting to see if he was going to protest.

"Please," he whimpered.

I couldn't help but smirk as I pulled his boxers down to meet his pants. His cock sprang free, red and painfully hard. I couldn't help but marvel at the size. I had definitely fantasized about him when I was alone, but I was definitely doing him an injustice with those fantasies.

I pushed Josh so he was sitting down in his gamer chair again. I wrapped my hand around the base of his dick and pumped slowly. Josh's mouth fell open as I took the tip in my mouth, still pumping my hand at the base. I swirled my tongue around the head every so slowly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I held his eye as I took more of him into my mouth, going down just enough for my mouth to meet where my fist was wrapped around him. His head fell back against his chair again as I began to bob my head on his dick.

I held on to his thigh with my other hand, trying to keep myself steady as I picked up the pace slightly. Josh was a moaning mess, putty in my hands (almost literally). I glanced up at him again, watching his Adam's apple bob with every lewd sound that came from his mouth.

"Can you take it any deeper?" he asked. "Please?"

There was something about the begging tone of his voice that turned me on even more. I removed my hand from the base of his dick, placing it on his other thigh and taking him further into my mouth. His eyes screwed shut as he moan out into the room again. I could feel his dick twitching in my mouth with every inch that I took in. Eventually I almost had him completely taken in, the tip all but touching the back of my throat. I had never felt so grateful to not have a gag reflex.

His hand found it's way to my hair, just resting there at first as I started to pull my head back. But then I was being shoved back down at such a quick speed that my eyes suddenly watered and I quickly had to pull off to start coughing.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just...it felt so good. I needed to be in your mouth again."

"It's okay," I said. "But maybe don't shove your dick down my throat suddenly, okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Okay, okay. Please put my dick in your mouth again."

I smirked up at him. "Well, since you're being so good and using your manners."

He moaned out as I took him into my mouth again. I didn't tease this time. I immediately picked up my pace. Saliva started dripping from my mouth and ran down his cock. I was somewhat impressed by the fact that his chair hadn't toppled over or broke or anything with the sheer force of what was going on.

Josh's hand fisted my hair as whimpers and moans escaped from his lips. I could feel his dick twitching, signaling that he was getting close to his release.

"Stop," he said, his hand pulling at my hair. "Wait, stop."

I pulled off and looked up at him. "Are you okay?"

"I am so much more than okay. I'm actually really close, but I want to be inside of you before I cum. If...if that's okay, I mean."

I was off my knees before he could even finish his sentence. I got onto his lap and pressed my lips to his. It caught him by surprise, but he was responding to my kiss quickly. His hands held my waist as I awkwardly straddled him in his chair, the plastic of the arm rests digging into my legs.

"We have to move to the bed," I said between kisses. "I can't fuck on this thing."

"I figured it was a long shot, but the thought was so hot to me," he said.

I got off his lap and he stood. He kicked his pants and boxers off into a pile on the floor before reaching for my shirt. He paused a moment, like he was waiting for my permission. I playfully rolled my eyes and pulled the shirt off myself and removing his as well. I started kissing him again, deciding to give him the pleasure of taking off my pants and panties himself. Once I had them kicked to the floor, joining the other discarded clothing, we both started backing up towards his bed. I lightly pushed him so he was laying down on the bed before climbing on top of him.

"Fuck," he breathed. "This is a nice view."

I giggled. "You're a real charmer, Josh."

I spit in my hand and lathered it over his already saliva soaked cock. I hovered over him, lining him up with my entrance, before slowly sinking down onto him. We moaned in unison as I went down until he was buried completely inside of me. His hands were gripping at my hips, no doubt leaving crescent indents in my skin.

"Please move," he begged. "Fuck, I need to feel you, please."

"I never took you to be such a sub," I teased. "But I like to hear you beg. Can you ask me nicely one more time to ride your cock?"

"God, please ride me. I need to cum so bad. I wanna feel you before I cum."

I put my hands against his bare chest to steady myself and slowly began to grind on his cock. He was buried so deep inside of me, hitting the one spot my past hook ups could only dream of hitting. With every slow grind, he was nudging that spot more and more, and his pubic bone was rubbing against my clit. I hadn't realized how turned on sucking his dick alone had made me, but I felt like I wasn't about to last long either.

I leaned over to kiss Josh's lips. His tongue ran along my bottom lip, asking for entrance, which I granted him. My grinds had turned into bounces on his cock, the pressure inside me building more and more by the second. I could tell by the way his dick was twitching that he was getting close too.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum," he breathed. "Fuck, I-I don't have a condom on."

"I'm on the pill," I assured him. "I want to feel you cum inside of me."

"Fuck!" he cried out, his head lulling back onto the pillow beneath him as he finally reached his climax. The feeling of his warmth filling me up was enough to push me over the edge as well, crying out into the otherwise silent house.

I sat on top of him as both of us tried to regain our breaths. Josh sat up, wrapping an arm around my lower back to cradled me as he flipped us over. I gasped as he slowly pulled out of me, feeling his seed running out of me.

"I had to clean my sheets anyways," he said, eyeing the mess between my legs. "Hold on, let me clean us up."

He hurried out of the room and returned with two cloths. He passed one to me and we both cleaned ourselves up. He tossed the cloths onto the floor with the rest of our discarded clothes before getting back onto his bed with me. I was a little shocked when he pulled me into his arms, but I wasn't about to protest to post-sex cuddles.

"So," he said, running his fingers up and down my arm, idly, "how long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Uh...since I went through puberty and realized what sex was?" I offered.

He whistled. "That long, huh? And you never told me?"

"How was I supposed to tell you? Hey Josh, I know we've been best friends since primary school and you probably don't view me like this, but I have a massive fucking crush on you. Anyways, enjoy your video game that you never stop playing."

"Who says I don't view you the same way?"

"Well, obviously you view me as someone you want to have sex with considering the fact that we just had sex."

"I view you as more than someone I want to have sex with - "

"Friends with benefits is still just seeing me as someone you wanna have sex with."

"Will you listen to me?" he said as he covered my mouth with his hand. "I mean I like you, too, (Y/N). I always have. But I thought you only saw me as a friend, so obviously I wasn't about to say anything."

I groaned and pushed his hand off of my mouth. "God, we are such a cliche, aren't we?"

He chuckled and placed a finger under my chin, tilting my head up so that he could kiss me on the lips again.

"At least this finally happened now that you finished that game," I said. "I never would've gotten your attention beforehand."

"That's not true!"

"Josh, you didn't pay attention to me before. Being your girlfriend wouldn't have made much of a difference."

"It totally would've!"

"Shut up before I decide to take back everything I said."

I kissed him before he could come up with a comeback.

[hanbinics]

!boxer matt meets !sunshine reader at one of his fights...

the boxing gym was like nowhere you’d ever been in before nor anywhere you usually spend your time. it was loud, gritty, and so alive with this sort of energy that had your heart racing for all the wrong reasons. it had you clutching your best friend’s elbow like a lifeline the entire time she led you through the crowds of rowdy people around you, all of them jittery and chattering excitedly about the two men in the ring.

“hey, just stay close to me, okay?” your friend calls over the noise. when she glances back at you and notices the slight pinch of your brow and your pursed lips, her shoulders relax. “trust me, you’re gonna love it. matt’s amazing to watch,” she reassures you softly, the somewhat familiar name piquing your curiosity. after all, it was the entire reason she’d dragged you here tonight—her boyfriend’s brother is the one boxing.

so despite feeling like a fish out of water, you offer a nod of your head and a small smile, allowing your best friend to pull you towards the front of the crowd to get a better view of the two men entering the ring. you’ve never actually met matt before, but as soon as you catch sight of him finishing up on the layers of tape on his knuckles, you just know it’s him. not only does he look strikingly similar to chris, but there’s something about the way he carries himself that immediately draws you in.

he’s... intimidating—broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and cold blue eyes zeroed-in on the man across the ring from him. you can see fading bruises peeking out from beneath his tape before he’s pulling worn gloves over his hands, and the sight nearly makes you shiver. you’re so focused on how dangerous he looks when you suddenly feel as though someone is staring at you, and when you look up, your breath hitches in your throat at the realization that those cold blue eyes are now focused on you.

it's only for a fraction of a second that matt allows himself to study you, but immediately there’s an almost imperceptible furrow of his brow.

you don’t belong here.

the thought is immediate and unshakable. while the crowd around him roars with impatience, you stand there with wide, pretty eyes and parted lips, clearly out of place—like a daisy growing through a crack in the concrete.

but as soon as the fight starts, his attention shifts, and you’re left reeling from his cold gaze as he locks in on the only thing that makes him feel at home anymore—and it shows. you can’t take your eyes off him as he moves around the ring, even when you find yourself wincing here and there at the punches being thrown. it’s still not enough to make you look away, your body subconsciously leaning forward and your lips parted as if you’re watching a movie unfold before you. you’re amazed by the focus and control he maintains, and by the time his arm is being lifted in victory, your best friend is surprised at the way you clap for the brunette in the ring.

she looks at you with amusement twinkling in her eyes for a moment before leaning closer to your ear. “see? i told you he’s good,” she hums playfully, but you can hardly rip your gaze from matt’s broad shoulders and smug smile as he’s paraded around the ring in celebration.

once the crowd begins to disperse, most of them heading towards the front to collect on their bets, you find yourself being pulled towards the back despite your quiet protests as your friend insists that you have to meet matt. you can’t explain why, but the thought of doing so has your heart racing in your chest, the image of those cold blue eyes gazing down at you from the ring like a warning in your head. but before you can really dig your heels in and insist you should be getting home, you find yourself timidly approaching chris and his brother sitting on a bench in the locker room, one of the employees probably working the fights tonight cleaning up a gash just over matt’s right brow.

“baby,” the girl beside you greets her boyfriend, a wide grin on her face as chris stands from the bench to wrap his arms around her waist. you watch as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to her mouth, but find yourself looking away just before their lips actually meet.

when they pull away, she’s still smiling when she shifts her attention to matt. “matt, this is the friend i was talking about bringing along,” she explains, introducing you to the boxer. you can feel your cheeks warm as your name is spoken to the other man, mortified that he might think you can’t so much as introduce yourself.

from the bench, matt’s head tilts just enough to acknowledge you guys, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly when he looks at you. “so,” he says, deep voice laced with sarcasm, “you brought me a cheerleader?”

slowly, your face falls, and while your cheeks begin to burn, you find yourself blinking, lips parting and then closing as you try to find something—anything—to say to curb your embarrassment. he’s still looking at you, watching you closely, like he’s trying to gauge your reaction, but you feel like you can do nothing but flounder under the cold, subtle hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

despite your obvious embarrassment, your friend just laughs it off. “she’s new to all this, but she thought you were amazing,” she informs him, raising an eyebrow as if challenging the other triplet from beneath chris’s protective arm around her shoulder. there seems to be something unspoken exchanged between the two, but you’re too flustered to decode any of it, especially when matt’s expression shifts into something a little more smug as his eyes flick back to you.

“is that so?” he asks, but there’s an air of cocky indifference about his question, and you watch as he leans his back against the lockers behind him, arms crossed over his chest in a way that makes a few lean muscles flex subtly. you don’t have to see yourself to know your cheeks are a furious shade of pink.

“i mean, yeah, um—you were really good,” you manage to stammer out, voice barely above a whisper. it only serves the burn in your cheeks, and you watch as matt’s smirk deepens.

“really good, huh? high praise from an expert.”

“oh i’m not an expert at all,” you breathe out almost immediately, not catching the teasing tone to his voice, “i don’t even really know much about boxing, but the way you moved—it was like, um... watching a dance? but better. faster, and stronger,” you elaborate. at this point, your hands are wringing together anxiously at the base of your stomach, and your face is on fire. you feel entirely silly after you’re done, especially when you watch the way matt tilts his head to the side, clearly amused.

“a dance,” he repeats, tone dripping with skepticism, “never heard someone call it that before.”

despite your own nerves, you nod your head quickly in response. “it was just that you seemed to know everything that was going to happen next, and you executed it so well... it was amazing, really,” you find yourself admitting, and for a moment, matt’s smirk falters as he watches you seemingly replay the whole fight in your head, looking completely fucking awestruck.

from beside you, chris rolls his eyes. “matt,” he says simply, a light, playful warning just beneath his brother’s name as he shoots him a look as if to say be nice.

you don’t catch it, his expression shifting into one of an easy smile when you look the couple’s way, but your best friend almost looks sympathetic when your eyes meet, and you can’t help but be a little confused and feeling left out of the loop as matt finally stands from the bench.

“it was nice meeting you.” your name rolls off the boxer’s tongue with ease, but he seems almost dismissive about the pleasantry as he throws a t-shirt over his head and picks up his bag from the bench, hiking the strap over his shoulder.

disappointment sinks into the pit of your stomach, oddly enough, and your mouth twitches into a frown despite your best efforts. “oh, uh, it was nice meeting you too,” you reply quietly, the room beginning to fill with soft shuffling as your friends begin to make their way towards the door to end the night.

your fingers toy anxiously with one another as you turn to follow the couple out of the room, but your heart skips a beat in your chest when matt calls your name once more, prompting you to turn back to him, eyes wide with both surprise and curiosity.

you watch as he makes his way towards you, blue eyes twinkling with something you can’t put your finger on as he takes you in carefully. the closer he gets, the quicker your pulse becomes, and you swallow hard when you have to tilt your head up slightly just to look at him because of how close he’s gotten.

“i’ll see you next friday then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. he watches your face carefully, taking in the hint of confusion behind your pretty eyes, the sight making his own mouth twitch into a small smirk as he begins to move past you and towards the door to follow his brother out.

“next friday?” you echo almost breathlessly, twisting around to face him once he’s halfway out the door, his body only half turned towards you as he nods once, that same sarcastic smirk resting so beautifully on his face.

“’m gonna need my cheerleader at my next fight, won’t i?”

a/n. i missed writing. i'm sorry i haven't been posting, but i hope you guys stick around for what's to come. x

©hanbinics

[cutielando]

Okay I have a request. Lando with his long time girlfriend and when Oscar joins the team they warn him to stay away from Lando’s drivers room after a race because him and reader love to ‘celebrate’ no matter the result of the race. And Oscar finds out the hard way. But McLaren are like use to it. 🤭🧡

Please and thank you.

poor oscar | l.n.

my masterlist

In all fairness, Oscar had been well warned about Lando and his girlfriend’s antics post-races. Given that the walls in the motorhome were very thin, as Oscar had stated previously, the team felt like they should let Oscar know what he was in for.

He hadn’t quite taken to heart what he had been told. He had been thinking to himself, how bad can it actually be? And oh boy, it was bad.

You and Lando had made a pact from the beginning of your relationship and when you started coming to all of his races that you would do something to celebrate his every race outcome, no matter how good or bad. You vowed to see every race as something positive and take something from each one.

The McLaren team had become accustomed to your shenanigans, knowing not to go anywhere near Lando’s driver room in the hours after the race. They had come to learn to stay away the hard way, if you know what I mean.

And yet, Oscar chose to ignore them. Why? He didn’t even know.

Maybe it was just pure curiosity, maybe it was ignorance, one could only make suppositions. 

If he had managed not to hear anything that even remotely resembled the warnings he had been given up until that moment, he was in for a treat this time.

You had attended the Miami GP with Lando, catching a break from your studies and having promised him that he wouldn’t have to go to a race alone after failing to attend Japan. And imagine the joy you had felt once Lando had taken the checkered flag in P1. Scratch that, imagine what was going through your mind about the celebrations you were about to have with Lando as soon as he came back to the motorhome ;).

Your boyfriend had been thinking the exact same way, trying to make his way back to the hospitality as soon as he possibly could, but still politely stopping for interviews and photos or autographs.

But once he finally reached his room and saw you waiting for him, dressed only in your underwear, he knew he was in for an enormous treat.

Oscar hadn’t heard Lando get back. He had been so deep into thought and so focused on the music he had been listening to with headphones on that he hadn’t heard the door opening, the squeals that you let out once Lando had practically pounced on you as soon as he locked the door. 

However, he was pulled out of his thoughts when he started hearing bangs, moans and dirty talking through his wall. At first he had thought he was hearing things. There was no way you were actually celebrating that loudly, right?

Wrong.

When he turned off the music and took off his headphones, he realized just how fucking loud you guys were being.

He didn’t even know how to react. What was he even supposed to do? Was he just supposed to leave his room and find somewhere else to hang out until you guys were done? Should he knock on your door and ask you guys to keep it down? No, Lando deserved the win and winding down whatever way he saw fit.

Sighing, he felt himself growing redder once the sounds on the other side of the wall only intensified. He couldn’t just stand around and listen to his teammate probably getting the fuck of his life after his maiden win, so he figured he would just get something to eat and hang out with either Mark or Logan.

The moment a member of the PR team, David, had seen him coming from his room, his cheeks a heavy crimson and refusing to make eye contact with anyone, he realized Oscar had just been the victim of Y/N and Lando.

“You heard them, didn’t you?” David asked him, an amused smile stretching on his face.

Oscar blushed even heavier, if that was even possible. Shyly, he nodded, making David laugh and pat him on the back.

“I didn’t think they were actually that bad” Oscar said, playing with his fingers as his ears could still pick up the noises he had done his best to avoid.

“We tried telling you, you didn’t want to believe us” David chuckled, patting him on the back again as he departed.

When you and Lando finally emerged from his room almost an hour later, the both of you laughed when you noticed how Oscar was avoiding eye contact with the both of you.

Poor Oscar…

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[spacelazarwolf]

a year ago, i was celebrating simchat torah when my rabbi interrupted the services to let us know there had been an attack on israel. we didn’t know how bad yet, but we prayed everything would be alright. the rest of the service went on as planned, but there was a chill in the air, like we knew something had changed. something big. but we didn’t quite understand it yet.

a year ago, i watched people i’d followed for years celebrate a gruesome massacre of over a thousand human beings before we even really knew what had happened. i watched anons pour into my inbox, demanding i condemn israel even though israel hadn’t even retaliated yet.

a year ago, i talked to my nonna on facetime for her birthday. she was in her 90s and wasn’t as present anymore, and i could barely focus because my thoughts were thousands of miles away. i promised her i’d call her the next day but my next day became scrolling past horrific photos and videos i didn’t want to see, posts celebrating the attacks, posts telling people that if they didn’t celebrate the attacks that they were bad people. she died two weeks later and the same people sharing the posts celebrating the massacre sent me messages telling me it was good my nonna was dead, or extremely crude and disgusting messages about what they wanted to do to her dead body because she was “probably a zionist.”

a year ago, i worked at a synagogue that started getting dozens of calls and emails from people, across the spectrum from neo nazis to evangelical christians to radical leftists saying the most horrific things, telling us it was our fault, that we had to do something, that it was on us. we were responsible. an anon told me i was a zionist because i had a zionist language on my blog (hebrew) and worked at a zionist institution (synagogue).

a year ago, i started losing friends one by one after many of them started to share posts justifying or celebrating the massacre or memes created by neo nazis, some of which didn’t even bother to sub out “jews” for “zionists” but they shared them anyway. i was pushed out of an activist group after months of begging them to stop using antisemitic language because i had the audacity to tell a white gentile in the group not to say racist things about a black indigenous jew behind her back, and said gentile told me he didn’t have to listen to me and that he could “claim” the holocaust too because his ancestors were from eastern europe.

a year ago, i watched in real time as the world i thought i knew, the world in which jews had a future and safety in the united states, crumbled day after day. people that previously went out of their way to take care of me and support me decided that because i didn’t feel comfortable marching alongside pictures of hitler i must be a zionist and therefore no longer belonged. the person processing my government aid didn’t want to approve me because i worked for a synagogue part time and argued that the synagogue should just pay me more because “they can afford it.” my synagogue, which has been involved in social justice since its founding several decades ago, along with its rabbis who have been just as involved, were abandoned by the communities they had put their blood, sweat, and tears into advocating for when they had the audacity to grieve for the dead of october 7th.

a year ago, i learned the hard way that we are not special in this time. antisemitism is a river that has ebbed and flowed for thousands of years, and i felt like a fool for thinking a dam could be built overnight.

a lot of people say that every day of this year for them has been october 7th, but for me every day has been october 8th. the day after the initial shock, when reality started to sink in. the realization that all the people who had shared “happy rosh hashanah” posts or complimented my kippah or pretended to care about harry potter goblins were quickly dropping the facade. that my token minority card had expired and now having a jew in their group didn’t look diverse, it looked “sympathetic toward israel.” every day has been a painful reminder that no one else is grieving like we are, and a large number of those people are angry that we are grieving. they don’t understand that we’re not just grieving the lives lost and the hostages. we’re grieving for the world we thought we knew, a world where we might have a chance to thrive like we did in the golden age of spain. but those golden years are ending. and that is one of the things we are grieving.

a lot of people also say that they wish they could go back to who they were on october 6th, but i don’t. i’m glad the illusion was shattered, that i can see more clearly who will stand with jews even if they face backlash, who will challenge their antisemitic biases and do the hard work to unlearn them, and who did not have to be asked twice to share literal nazi rhetoric if it meant feeling like a hero. i’m glad the masks are coming off because it means you can’t gaslight us anymore and tell us it’s all in our heads. we can see you for exactly who you are now. and we will not let you break us.

i don’t want to be living forever in october. i don’t want the blissful ignorance of october 6th, but i also don’t want the bitter anger of october 8th. i want to stand up for what i believe in, to celebrate my culture and my people, and no amount of intimidation or harassment will keep me from loving my jewishness. you have shown me i can no longer live in october 6th, but i refuse to let you keep me in october 8th.

[mytheoristavenue]

How MHA Guys React to Fangirls

Summary: Dating a pro hero can be a challenge, especially one so handsome, with so many rabid fans.

Warnings: jealousy, fluff, gn!reader, very little angst

Katsuki Bakugo:

Bakugo has never been into having fans as he is just being all together admired. Not one for social interactions, he tends to clam up and become defensive when asked for an autograph, so when he's approached by a fangirl, he wants nothing to do with them. Especially if he's out with you, off duty. If one does happen to approach, and ignoring them doesn't do the trick, he'll make sure he's not their favorite hero anymore by the end of it.

"Do I look like I'm on duty to you? Can't you see I'm out with my partner or are you fucking blind? Piss off, I ain't signin' any damn autographs."

Izuku Midoriya:

Izuku totally understands how it feels to be a hopelessly obsessed fan, so he cuts his fans a lot of slack- sometimes too much. Though he rerfused to admit it at first, he has a lot of fangirls. and he's never the type to hurt someone's feelings on purpose, so he almost always stops for free autographs and photo ops. It can be sometimes frustrating how much of a people pleaser he can be, but rest assured, if he feels like you are getting too uncomfortable, or a fan is becoming too bold, he politely and swiftly ends the interaction.

"Hey, thanks for the support! I'd love to stay and chat, but it's actually my day off, so me and and my partner here are gonna move along. Hope to see you at the next event I attend, though!"

Tenya Iida:

Iida does truly enjoy interactions with his fanbase, but he considers that part of the job, and he's very strick about working off the clock. Because of this, he declines nearly every interaction if he's off duty. He absolutely has no tollerance for being flirted with, either, especially in front of you.

"I appreiciate your enthusiasm, but I and currently off duty and will not be indulging in fan interaction at this time! Please feel free to catch me anytime you see me in uniform! Good day!"

Shoto Todoroki:

Shoto doesn't beleive he has fans, genuinely. He can't quite wrap his head around having a fanbase, or being a fan of a celebrity in the first place, due to how he grew up. It tends to bewilder him when strangers approach him on the street wanting autographs, even more so when they try and put the moves on him. It just goes in one ear and out the other.

"You want an autograph? Why? Well, okay, I guess, but then we should get going. My partner and I are busy."

Eijiro Kirishima:

Kirishima tends to have a very healthy balance of pleasing fans and knowing when to say no. He loves giving out autographs, taking selfies, and giving hugs to all his fans. He especially loves interactions with child fans because it reminds him of how he idolized Crimson Riot, and he hopes to inspire someone like that too. He is, however, very aware when he's being flirted with or sexualized, and has no issue with promptly, albeit politely shutting it down.

"Alright, ladies, I understand someone as manly as me attracts a lot of attention, but my partner here is the only one I've got eyes for, and I ask that you please respect that."

Denki Kaminari:

Unfortunaely for you, Denki loves attention from fans, especially from his fangirls. He never turns down a signing or photo op, posing with girls however they want, even if it means something suggestive. To his credit, he will stop if you ask him to, but you still have to ask.

"Oh, what's that? Okay. Sorry ladies, we gotta run, but catch me at the next meet and greet!"

Hanta Sero:

Like Kirishima, Sero seems to have a pretty healthy mix of reactions. He loves his fans to death and would do most anything for them, especially kids. He lets his fangirls sexualize him to a small extent, knowing they probably don't totally realize he's a real person, but if they come to commenting on his body, or touching more than his shoulder, upper back, or elbows, he puts a stop to it.

"Now, that's enough, ladies. I appreiciate the admiration but even us celebrities have to set boundaries. It was nice meeting you, but it's actually my day off so me and my partner are gonna get, have a nice day!"

Minoru Mineta:

Like Denki, Mineta unfortunately lets his fangirls do whatever they want to him, short of carry him off. He actually does sometimes feel guilty for hurting your felings, however. He just doesn't realize how his flirting can affect you at times. He hopes you know that, even if he does flirt back, it's you who he truly loves!

"Awe, babe, I'm sorry! They don't even matter to me, I swear! It's you that I love, not some silly fangirl!"

Tokoyami Fumikage:

Tokoyami for the life of him does not know how to interact with his fans. He gets overwhelmed by crowds, but can usually handle interactions if they come one or two at a time. He typically caters to most requests, unless they happen to be personal questions, or something embarrassing. He doesn't like the idea of some fans being attracted to him, as he's only attracted to you, and he feels guilty beign someone's unrequited love. Due to this, he doesn't entertain any kind of flirting from any of his fans, no matter what gender.

"Sorry, I'm not comfrotable signing that for you, can you pick something else? My partner here is my only love, so it wouldn't be right of me to sign your photo with anything romantic."

Mezo Shoji:

It took a lot of convincing to get Shoji to understand that he had fans, let alone ones that were attracted to him. he's just not used to people other than you thinking of him that way, with his mutations and all. You actually had to show him all of the fan works of him online to get him to believe you. That being said, Shoji loves his fans, but he tends to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and the fact that the can forget he's a person, not a character. In the past, he's had issues with fangirls stroking his muscles during photo ops, squeezing his pecks, and one even tried to yank his mask down. Luckily since then, he has learned how to manage fan interactions much better.

"Hey, don't do that. I'm a person, just like you, please treat me how you'd want to be treated. And don't disrespect my partner by tyring something inappropriate right in front of them."

Mashiroa Ojiro:

Like Shoji, Ojiro had a hard time accepting he had fans, but took much less convincing on your part. What he really struggled with was coming to terms with some of his fans liking him romantically. He doesn't typically turn away fan interactions, even on his days off, but he does cut them shorter that he would if he were working. If someone tries anything inappropriate, he ends the interaction right there.

"Sorry, I don't appreciate what you just did. Besides, it's my day off and I'd like to spend it with my partner here. I forgive you though, and hope to see you again at a meet and greet in the future!"

Tamaki Amajiki:

Tamaki appreciates the thought of having fans, and when standing intront of a cheering crowd, he can soemtiems handle it, but he really hates fan interactions. He never knows how to handle them, and many end up with him just nervously standing by while a stranger takes pictures with him, many times without his permission. Many times, you have to step up from him and ask the person politely to move along, which he always appreiciates.

"T-Thanks, babe... They were making me really uncomfortable but I didn't wanna hurt their feelings..."

[wheneverfeasible]

Awakenings

wc: 2.3k || rating: T || cw: none || summary: Steve, Robin, and Eddie discuss their queer awakenings with (not-so-) surprising results. || ao3

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Eddie grinned from where he was draped over the Buckleys’ couch, socked feet crossed against the wall as his head hung upside down off the cushions. “Jodie Foster is a babe. Did you see her in Carny?”

Steve laughed at Robin’s red face. “More times than she would like to admit,” he teases her, throwing a half-popped piece of popcorn at her face. Her resulting shriek was worth her throwing an aptly named throw pillow at his head.

Steve doesn’t know exactly how they got on to this topic, but it wasn’t unusual. Ever since Robin came out to Eddie, resulting in Eddie coming out to her in a panic at seeing her look so uncomfortable, which then resulted in Steve having to come out when Eddie panicked about him, well, a lot of their conversations when they were alone devolved into queerdom.

They had been watching music videos on TV and discussing who was hot, which resulted in them talking about how they had discovered they were queer, or maybe should have realized it sooner. Apparently Eddie had been obsessed with this one Irish singer/bassist dude who had recently passed away, which now that he knew he was bi, he realized now had been a celebrity crush.

Which prompted Robin to tell them who had been her lesbian awakening, another celebrity crush.

“Ugh, too bad I don’t have a chance with her,” Robin bemoaned from where she was now trying to smother Steve with the pillow she had thrown at him from their spots on the floor in front of the TV. “Not only is she a celebrity, but she’s also straight!”

Steve laughed, pushing Robin away. “I don’t know, man, you saw that interview she did years ago when asked about boys,” he teased her. “She probably likes boobies too.”

“Stop saying boobies!” Robin shrieked again, grabbing another pillow to smother him with.

Eddie laughed at them, well used to their sibling dynamic. “Well, we all know who awakened little Stevie, don’t we?” he teased, causing the two roughhousing to pause. Which was just as good since they’d ended up knocking over the popcorn bowl, though thankfully it was mostly empty already.

Steve hesitated, wondering if he’d been that obvious. “I truly don’t think you know,” he said dryly, almost mockingly. He wasn’t ashamed of it or embarrassed by it, but he also hadn’t wanted to make anything weird in their friend group.

“C’mon, dude. It’s obvious! Tom Cruise!”

Steve froze. Processed. Let out a groan. “Oh my god, I’ve had a crush on Tom Cruise this whole time,” he whined, dropping back onto the floor on his back. “No wonder Nancy always gave me a look when I wanted to watch his movies.”

Robin and Eddie both laughed at him, though at least Robin had the decency to try to hide hers.

“You mean you didn’t know?” Eddie asked, obviously delighted by that turn of events. “Christ, Harrington, I thought you were going to cream your pants when we watched Top Gun.”

“Well I know I like him now,” Steve complained from his spot on the floor, waving a hand in the air. “But he wasn’t the one who made me realize I was bi.”

“Oooh, then who was it?” Robin teased him, poking him in the ribs to watch him squirm.

Steve rolled his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t been obvious then. He sat back up and propped himself up on his hands with a small shrug. Like he said, he wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed. Well, maybe embarrassed by what had made him realize, but not the who of it. Never the who.

“Jonathan,” he answered simply.

Now it was Eddie’s turn to squawk, tumbling ass over tits from the couch to the floor as he tried to lift himself up to stare agog at Steve. “WHAT!”

Steve just let out a chuckle, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah, pretty early on actually. Well, I didn’t realize it was a small crush yet, but yeah.” He let out a heavy sigh with another roll of his eyes at his two friends’ gaping expressions.

“When was this!” Robin exclaimed. “How could you not tell me about all of this!”

“I just didn’t think it was important,” he huffed. His cheeks turned slightly pink at her first question, however. “Uh…it was…whenhepunchedme,” he said in a rush.

“Sorry, could you repeat that, because it sounds like you said when he punched you!”

Steve could only give her a sheepish grin and another small shrug. “It was kind of hot,” he admitted, causing Robin to throw herself back with a small wail. Eddie was just staring at him with wide eyes, but what else was new. “He liked Nancy and was trying to defend her honor, and then I said those really shitty things about his family when Will was missing.”

Steve sighed. Honestly, he regretted those things the most. Sure, he’d been wrong about what Jonathan and Nancy had been up to, but Nancy hadn’t given him another excuse than cheating on him at the time. Saying those hateful things about the Byers though, when he knew they were hurting? That had been fucked up, especially when he saw what an amazing person Joyce was, and how sweet Will was.

He’d apologized to them all after that first time (minus Lonnie of course because that guy does suck) but he still feels bad about it.

“I just thought it was hot at first though, the strength and male aggression, which made me realize maybe I was the queer. Then I started thinking about how Jon protects those he cares about, and by the time I realized that I felt jealous of both him and Nancy, they were already dating.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie muttered, scrubbing a palm over his face. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a crush on him now,” Steve complained. “But yeah. Jonathan Byers was my bi awakening,” he added with a grin.

“I can’t believe you never told me this,” Robin hissed, smacking him in the arm. “And after the Russian drug confessions and everything!”

“Hey!” Steve said, swatting back at her. He pointed an accusing finger at Eddie. “What about Eddie! He never told us who was his awakening. Just that he should have known sooner than he did.”

Robin’s gaze immediately swerved to take in Eddie’s pinking expression, a wicked grin curling her lips. “That’s right. Who made you realize you were a big fat homo, Munson?”

Eddie chuckled nervously, his gaze darting back and forth between them. “Uh…does it matter?” he hedged, causing Steve and Robin to roll their eyes in sync.

“I told you about Jonathan,” Steve pointed out. “And Robin told you about how she’s been a useless lesbian all her life.”

“Hey!”

“So who did it, Munson? Who made you realize you like boobies and dick,” Steve grinned.

Eddie continued looking at him, eyes wide and face turning pinker by the moment. “I…” An excruciating moment passed before his face crumpled and his squeezed his eyes shut with a nose scrunch Steve had always found adorable. He covered his face in his hands and let out a pained sigh. “It was you, okay,” he said, voice cracking.

Silence.

Steve felt a stutter in his chest, turning to look at Robin who was staring back at him with her own shocked expression. As one, they turned back to look at Eddie.

“Me?” Steve softly asked. He probably shouldn’t feel so smug about that, but he also couldn’t help it. To think that he, Steve Harrington, had been someone’s queer awakening. It was totally going to his head.

“Yes, you,” Eddie huffed, dropping his hands but not raising his head at all.

“When?” Was it back in high school? Back when he was wearing his gym shorts or speedos for swim? Eddie thought he was hot, whenever it was. He tried to keep a smile off his face at the thought.

“When you…” Eddie let out a groan, obviously embarrassed, which…ow? Was he embarrassed he thought Steve attractive? Was this just because Steve was a normie or because of who he’d been in high school?

“When I what?” Steve asked just as softly. He didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer now.

“When you bit the bat in the Upside Down,” Eddie admitted in a tone like pulling teeth.

Yeah. Okay. Steve definitely didn’t want the answer now. Because what the fuck?

“What the fuck?”

Eddie flinched a little at Steve’s response. “Look, it was hot okay!” he tried to protest. “At least you weren’t punching my face Mr. I-have-a-crush-on-Jonathan-Byers.”

“Had. Had a crush,” he reflexively corrected. He blinked at Eddie who still refused to look at him. “Are you shitting me right now, Munson? That was when you knew? I thought you’ve known for years!” Steve complained, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Did you have a crush on me, or did you just think I was hot?”

He regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. Of course Eddie never had a crush on him. Finding a guy attractive was one thing, but actively liking him? Yeah, Steve knew better than to think Eddie could ever like him like that.

“Have,” Eddie whispered.

“What?”

“I have a crush on you,” Eddie mumbled, and then he was finally looking up Steve through his bangs. “I used to think…I mean, you’d never go for the weird guys. But then Byers?” he asked, tone still quiet, but now with a note of derision to it. “I have much better hair.”

Steve blinked. Blinked some more. Then he drew in a shuddering breath. Eddie has a crush on him. As in currently. As in right now.

Oh.

A warmth blossomed up in Steve’s chest, something he’d never imagined possible actually coming true. He cleared his throat, ducking his head a little to try to get a better look through the curtain of Eddie’s hair?

“Do you know what’s hotter than a punch to a face?” When Eddie lifted his head some to stare at him more fully, giving a small shake of his head, Steve grinned. “Being manhandled against a wall with a broken bottle to the neck.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, his face now fully flamed red, and Steve figured that maybe he really did have a thing for dorks. Considering how he was wanting to smother Eddie’s red cheeks with kisses and love devotions, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only dork here, however.

Carefully, slowly, Steve reached out to settle his hand on Eddie’s knee, his thumb lightly stroking the exposed skin there through the other man’s ripped jeans. Eddie stilled beneath him, scarcely seeming to even breathe, which boosted Steve’s confidence. He let his grin settle into something softer.

“So…it was the bats, really?” he lightly teased. “Not my school speedos, or even me shirtless and throwing my sweater at you?” He raised his brows at that. “I really wasn’t being subtle there dude.”

Eddie lifted his head fully then to stare at Steve aghast. “I didn’t know you liked guys! You were practically throwing yourself at Wheeler!”

“Well yeah, you weren’t giving me anything to go off of,” Steve complained rolling his eyes. “And I wasn’t about to make our friendship awkward by telling you I had a crush on you. Why do you think I never told Jonathan? I thought it didn’t matter. Even when you came out as bi—which, you’re welcome, by the way,” Steve added smugly, causing Eddie to scowl and pick up a discarded pillow to throw at him, “you never showed me any interest. Even when I came out as bi.”

“Well, yeah, you’re like…outrageously hot and an ex-jock. I knew better than to get my hopes up,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Maybe I should have bit more bats then,” Steve grinned. “Given you more of an incentive.”

“Yeah, okay, Ozzy, but I didn’t—wait, you have a crush on me?”

Steve knew it was mean, but he still laughed at Eddie’s owlish blinking. “Have since the boathouse, but thanks for finally catching up.”

“Oh my god, you are such a bitch!” Despite his words, Eddie was smiling wide, his eyes full of that sparkle Steve loved so much.

Steve could have said something snarky then, but instead he just slid his hand into the hair at the back of Eddie’s neck and pulled the metalhead into a kiss, smiling against his startled lips. It only took a moment for Eddie to respond enthusiastically, however, bringing his own hands up to grab onto the collar of Steve’s shirt as they tumbled backwards.

It took a moment for Steve to even realize Robin was no longer there, didn’t even know when she had left, too trapped in Eddie’s confession. He didn’t truly even acknowledge her absence until she yelled from the kitchen to keep hands above the waist and they only had five more minutes before she was spraying them with water.

Steve chuckled happily against Eddie’s lips, whose answering soft laughter was a balm to his nerves. Eddie liked him back.

It was six minutes later, when Robin really did come back with a spray bottle and forced them apart, that Steve had Eddie curled up on the floor against him with their backs to the sofa, Robin keeping the spray bottle nearby just in case. He didn’t think he had ever been happier.

“Oh, and Oz?” Eddie murmured softly, looking up at him from where he rested his head against Steve’s shoulders.

“Yeah?” Steve answered, feeling something warm and sweet at his apparent new nickname that held so much meaning for the both of them now.

“I am so telling Jonathan you had a crush on him.”

~

I’ve long thought it would be amazing if Eddie nicknamed Steve “Ozzy” and finally I got the chance to put it into a fic. It will definitely be a reoccurring thing though whenever I get the chance tehe

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