#I’m pretty sure the same thing is probably happening with music but I’m not in the know enough to say

[linisiane]

This trend issue is seeping into art.

There are the more innocuous versions of this, like the recent naming of the CalArts Art Style or the Jelly Art Style or the Cream Soda Art Style for drama on TikTok, but then we get into the insidious flooding of beginner art forums with questions like “What style is this?”

And it’s insidious because beginner artists can and will ask this question in good faith.

Lots of people are inspired by ‘styles’ like “anime” art and will ask for help looking for more references.

But, nowadays, AI bros will masquerade as these beginners in these forums with pictures of art they’re trying to steal from, hoping to find keyword prompts for their grift. Which then leads to a bunch of commenters attacking any and all “What’s this style?” posts out of a reasonable fear that any responses to these questions will be fed to an AI.

Bet you can guess where that leads.

Yep, baby artists attacked out the gate and treated with hostility over a pretty common misconception because it makes them indistinguishable from AI bros. And this misconception is also partially why I’m not a huge fan of AI bros:

They tout themselves as artistic revolutionaries progressing the field, yet they’re making the exact same mistake as art noobs, which is thinking that Art Style is prescriptive.

It’s not. It’s descriptive.

It makes sense to name art styles for huge movements of artists with generally shared characteristics, like putting anime artists under one umbrella, just like how clothing trends in the past were named. A description after the fact. But these noobs aren’t asking for “anime” as a response. Anime is too broad, it could look like anything from Aku no Hana to Panty and Stocking!

What they’re looking for is a niche art style with a clear set of aesthetic features that they can Google. They want you to take their examples of 5 wildly different art pieces off Pinterest and list for them a style that consolidates them, the way you would while compiling a ballet coquette Pinterest board or a light academia aesthetic TikTok slideshow.

And I can’t blame them for that, because that’s exactly how the Jelly Art Style and the Cream Soda Art Style and ESPECIALLY the CalArts Art Style works.

What I am blaming is the way algorithms on social media and within AI have changed the way we think about art styles, prioritizing grouping all these unique artists into an easily identifiable, pinterestable, Instagram-Face art marketable rabbit holes. By doing so, they rob the artworks—not of some mystical quality of originality, nothing is original—but of their connection to the PEOPLE who originally made them.

With art movements like Fauvism, you can trace the origins and inspirations of the art style to specific artists. If you ever needed references for them, they’re listed right there on Wikipedia.

When the digital art community discussed art styles in the past, it was usually in direct reference to a specific artist’s style. The Samdoesarts art style. The Galactibun animatic style. How to find YOUR art style.

These artists could literally tell you which artists they studied if you ever needed more references on how to draw in their style. Style wasn’t some mystical thing that came fully formed out of the bowels of TikTok’s algorithm, it was your personal distillation of all the different people you were inspired by.

In contrast, if you were to ask me to list artists who use the Jelly Art Style or Cream Soda Art Style, I wouldn’t be able to list a single one, even though I know EXACTLY what the styles look like. AI art may still be in its infancy, but the separation of art from the artist is already here.

So yeah, I’m sick of the question “What style is this?”

If you want, a bandaid solution would be to replace all these style questions with “What artists drew these pictures?” or “Who was this artist inspired by?”

My solution, of course, is to become powerful enough to Kill All Algorithms.

Even though she's talking about trends and fashion this is applicable to so much of online culture

The obsession with labelling the most specific things to the point of uselessness and silliness

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw implication, enemies to lovers, kinda bitchy reader,

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the poor college boy who’s struggling to get used to dorm life and his loud neighbor who isn’t making matters any better.

He has never been shy about telling someone off. People should have the common decency not to blast their infernal music so loud that the entire dorm shakes. And you, whoever you may be, are no exception—he thinks while pounding on your door with his fist. Fuck knows if you can even hear him over your speakers.

But lo and behold and despite all odds, you open up.

“Excuse me, can you turn it down?” His words might be polite, but his voice is anything but—glaring down at you… who quickly turned out to be a girl… 

Yeah, definitely not the idiot ass-hat with the shitty body odor he was expecting. But a pretty girl in a short tank top without a bra and booty shorts so tight and short he would think you’d bought them ten years ago.

“It’s eight?” You raise your brow at him, face otherwise dull.

Okay, so you weren't what he was expecting. And sure, it might make his throat a little tight, among other things. But still, he not going to let it change anything. 

“Yeah, I’m tryna study.” 

That was a lie. He was actually about to go to bed. But he wasn’t about to tell you that. Judging by the way you were looking at him, he’d say you’d just laugh and slam the door in his face. Maybe even turn the volume up to spite him.

Not that telling you he was studying was any better.

“There’s something called a library for that sorta thing,” you drawl.

He’s right—you’re the sardonic type. There’s usually no use fighting with people like you, but still, he must stand his ground and insist, “Yeah, well, I prefer my room.”

You reply in kind, smiling now with a short excuse for a laugh, “Oh, what do you know, me too.”

You’re a little hard to read. That felt like sarcasm, but it wasn’t all that easy to tell. He’s mostly certain you couldn't care less, but at the same time, you’d humored him this long. So, maybe…

“You’ll turn it down then?”

As expected. You just laugh and shut the door in his face.

He stands there for a moment. You must be blowing your eardrums sitting in there. He thinks about knocking again, maybe dropping some of the politeness this time and demanding you turn it down.

But he ends up going back to his room. He decides then to wait another hour, thinking you might come to your senses despite your poor attitude. But at zero point, do you turn your music down by even a single lousy notch. 

Lying in his room, he’s hoping someone else might come by and tell you off. That maybe then you’d listen.

But a couple more minutes later, he realizes he can’t wait for that to happen and decides to test his luck again. Abruptly springing from his bed, he marches over to your room. Doing as he did last time, nearly kicking your door in with his banging.

“Oh my god, dude, what is your problem!?” you bark once seeing him.

And his eye nearly twitches in turn. “My problem? Really? You’re one to talk!”

You gape at him, both glaring at the other. 

“It’s eight-thirty. What? Is it your bedtime or something?”

“No. But I would appreciate it if I could hear myself think in my own room!”

“Oh? Well, maybe you should call your mommy and cry about it!”

Again, all you do is slam the door in his face. However, this time, you skip the laugh and settle for a simple yet efficient grimace that lets him know you’ll not be answering the door again.

Several days pass. He caved and invested in a pair of noise-canceling headphones. But still, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he wanted. But suppose that wasn’t all your fault. To be honest, he’d probably be struggling either way, with or without your music. It’s not easy living in a new place. 

It’s lonely, too.

But that can’t be helped. At least not for him. He’s not too good at trying to make friends. And yet, there’s someone at the door. 

Three firm knuckle knocks let him know. But who it might be is anyone’s guess. Still, he begrudgingly answers.

“Oh… so this is you, huh…” 

It’s you—the hot but nasty girl next door, wearing that same pair of shorts he’s been thinking about every day without wanting to. 

You don’t seem too pleased to see him either, even when you’d been the one to knock. 

“Ugh…” You look around, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly before gritting your teeth and finally mustering up enough gall to actually spit out what you’d come there for. “You wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver or something?”

This time, it’s him who raises his eyebrow. “Or something?” he repeats. “What would that be exactly?”

You scoff then, about to leave, grumbling out, “Never mind–” but he interjects before you’re fully turned around.

“Wait there.” 

It’s to both of your surprise when he disappears into his room.

He isn’t gone long before he’s back with a screwdriver. 

“Here.”

You don’t say anything, just rudely rush to grab it without even looking at him, but when you pull it to yourself, you’re pulled back, stuck to the same spot. He holds onto the other end, looking you right in your shocked eyes.

“You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone does something for you.”

You look flushed—a little chagrined, maybe—but ultimately, you can’t really argue with it, mumbling out a bitter “Thanks.”

He smiles then, chuckles even. Not nicely. Smugly. 

Admittedly, it’s not his best moment, but who can blame him? You haven’t exactly been so nice yourself. Right now, he can tell you almost feel like rejecting his offer altogether, but that refusing at this point would be too petty so you just have to grin and bear it. 

It’s actually kind of cute.

“Bring it back once you’re done,” he says, then lets go of you, and off you go, nearly stomping away.

He goes back to studying, shaking his head at you. You can’t have many friends either with that attitude. Suppose you have that in common.

Sometime later there’s a frustrated scream coming from the other room. Then, the sound of a door handle roughly getting yanked, someone storming down the short distance of the corridor before throwing his door open unannounced.

“Your useless screwdriver isn’t doing its stupid job!” you yell in a whine, almost throwing the tool at him where he sits by his desk. It lands in his bed next to him instead.

You look utterly disheveled at this point. Dewy-faced and frustrated, hair a total mess and even hotter still. It’s really unfair. How come a bitchy brat like you looks like that, even when you’re a wreck? It shouldn't be allowed.

“I highly doubt it’s the screwdriver's fault. You positive it’s the useless one?”

This time, you just growl without words before turning on your heel, about to stomp out the same way you’d arrived—but again, he finds himself stopping you for whatever reason he still can’t understand.

“Wait.” He gets up from his chair and picks up the screwdriver you’d chucked. “Le’mme have a look.”

You shake your head with a scoff, “No way. I’m not letting you in my room.”

“You didn’t seem so reserved when you came barging into mine.” Ignoring you, he walks straight past you.

“Wait–” you protest, but he doesn't bother. 

He just opens your door and reveals the breakdown you’d had just earlier. Having but one word to ascribe to the scene.

“Wow.”

Suppose you were both in your own right struggling with acclimating to dorm life…

“It’s not my fault I’m not a carpenter or whatever. The instructions said it was simple,” you excuse the mess of planks and screws and bits all belonging to your unassembled wardrobe among all the clothes that are meant to be in it. “They lied.”

He scratches his neck, feeling a little bad for you despite everything. This would take anyone over an hour—probably even more, to be honest. Even if you managed on your own, you’d have a hard time pushing it into place. Not that it’s any of his business. But hey… if he played his cards right, maybe he could get something out of this in the end.

“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” he says then, folding his arms upon his chest while looking down at you. “I’ll set this up for you.” He leans down, that same smug smile from before plastered on his face as he comes with his condition, “If you promise to lower your music after eight.”

Honestly, with your looks, you could probably knock on just about anyone else's door and ask for their help instead. They probably wouldn’t ask anything in return. But hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.

And to his surprise, you actually seem to think about it. Maybe you’re one of those girls without a clue. You even do this cute thing where you chew your lip in thought, a furrow between your brows. 

You look up at him when you’re finished. “Ten.”

You’re bargaining with him now? He was expecting you to say something like fat chance. But no, you’re really that desperate.

He thinks about agreeing but then doesn’t. No, it might be a little scummy of him, but since he’s gotten this far, he might as well keep the act up and stand his ground. 

“Eight,” he insists.

And you’re face scrunches as you fold, going down to “Nine.”

But no, following the same logic that had worked for him up until now, he still doesn’t budge. “Eight.”

You purse your lips, and he thinks he’s blown it, that you’re just about ready to bark at him to get the fuck out. But you don’t. Instead, you become even cuter. Giving in with a sigh, “Okay, fine.”

He honestly can’t believe it. Though his face shows no shock, he’s dumbfounded on the inside. He can’t believe that worked. Here’s this chick who all but told him to go fuck himself just a few days ago, now all but begging him for his help. Or no, begging is a strong word, but still.

He has to go back into his room and fetch the rest of his toolbox. Turned out you did need an or-something—a drill. No wonder you weren’t managing. But after a little over an hour of tinkering while you lay on your bed reading a magazine—and at some point asking you if it was okay if he removed his shirt before he died of heatstroke, then bothering you for a drink—it was finally finished.

“Alright, all done.” He announced, and after sliding it into place for you, he clapped his hands together and said, “Ta-dah.”

He then takes a look at his wristwatch, wanting to see how long he’d spent, but comes away with another fun discovery.

“My my, would you look at the time?” he grins again, showing it to you. “Just passed eight.”

It makes him snicker. And not expecting a thank you after that comment, he just gathers his tools and slings his shirt over his shoulder, ready to excuse himself. 

“Let me know if you need a cup of sugar, neighbor.” 

He’s just about to open the door when you speak up.

“Thanks, but I'm good on sugar, actually.” 

Your voice is a little different this time—not annoyed, though not chagrined like earlier either—no, something new. Something that makes him turn around again. 

You’ve rolled off the bed, now standing just a short distance away, hips tilted, standing slanted with your arms crossed loosely, wearing those same tight little short shorts he’s never seen you without but could definitely picture on the floor.

Yeah, in his wildest dreams, or so he thought…

“I might need some help breaking in my bed, though, if you’re interested.” 

You step closer, sizing him up where he stands, and then you smile, offering him a small coy laugh. “That is, of course, if it’s not already passed your bedtime.”

He swallows thickly—nearly drops the toolbox to the floor but manages to keep his cool, though just barely.

“No, I think I can help you with that.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Touya, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Karasu ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi, Genya ♡ WB – Sakura, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 GOOD LUCK, BABE! jang wonyoung x reader

♪ ❝you can say it's just the way you are make a new excuse, another stupid reason❞ ⭢ moonstruck (read this first)

↳ warnings paranoia!yn,, yn from this fic, angst, fluff

if you asked both yn and wonyoung how well they remember the day they met, yn would probably say it’s a bit fuzzy, like a memory softened by time. wonyoung, though, she’d say she remembers it like it was just yesterday, like she remembers every day with yn.

funny how the one who never forgets is the reason they became something worth forgetting.

the girl next door, that’s what yn was. not to wonyoung, but to chaewon.

to chaewon, yn was the annoying next door neighbor. her exact words when she introduced yn to the rest of iz*one were, “this is my annoying next door neighbor, yn. she’s a trainee and producer at sm, along with these two other guys.”

wonyoung found it so impressive that someone as young as her was a producer and a trainee, it made her want to learn how it happened, she also couldn’t help but notice how pretty the girl was.

it was the way yn carried herself, the way she spoke, the way she looked effortless yet striking. and just like that, wonyoung had to know more.

yn tilted her head, watching the girl across from her talk animatedly with someone she knew as yujin. chaewon had banished her to sit with the two youngest members while the rest of the girls made food in the kitchen.

wonyoung. of course, yn knew of her, how could she not? and after their awkward introduction earlier, she was sure wonyoung knew of her too.

"I’m wonyoung," the center said with a bright smile. yn tried her best to return it.

"I know," yn said, tilting her head with a teasing grin. "chaewon unnie just said your name."

yn let out a small laugh, tilting her head to look at chaewon who raised a brow at them.

“so you and I are same age right?” yujin snapped yn out of her daze.

yn nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “yeah, that’s what chaewon unnie said.”

the conversation carried on from there, flowing naturally between her, yujin, and wonyoung. yn was curious about idol life what it was like to debut, to have a fandom, to be recognized everywhere they went. yujin and wonyoung, in turn, were just as curious about her. being a trainee and a producer at sm, especially at such a young age, wasn’t exactly normal.

they asked how she balanced everything, how she handled the pressure, what her days even looked like.

yn, ever so casually, mentioned the boys wonbin and jay and that was when wonyoung’s interest seemed to shift. her questions became more direct, more personal. it wasn’t just about training anymore, she wanted to know about yn. what she liked, what she hated, what kind of music she was into.

there was something different in her tone, the way she leaned in slightly whenever yn spoke, eyes locked onto her like she didn’t want to miss a single word. it got to the point where it felt like it was only the two of them talking, the rest of the world fading into the background.

after that night, yujin was the one who reached out first. she wanted a friend her age, someone outside the idol world but still close enough to understand.

yn had no problem with that, hanging out with yujin was easy, fun, and natural. and just like that they became close, spending time together whenever their schedules allowed.

one afternoon, yujin invited yn over to the dorms. they ended up in yujin’s room, sprawled out on the bed, laughing over the dumbest things, teasing each other like they’d been friends forever. yn had stolen one of yujin’s plushies, holding it hostage while yujin tried (and failed) to take it back.

“give it back!” yujin whined, dramatically collapsing onto the bed.

“this is mine now,” yn said, squeezing the plushie tightly against her chest. “he told me he doesn’t like you anymore.”

yujin gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “betrayed… by my own plushie? how could you?”

yn burst into laughter, tossing the plushie back at her. “fine, fine. take him back,”

before yujin could respond, the door creaked open.

“yujin, our manager wants you for a—” wonyoung’s words cut off as she stepped inside, her eyes landing on the scene in front of her.

yn was lounging on yujin’s bed, her hair slightly messy from rolling around, one hand lazily pushing her bangs out of her face. her oversized deftones graphic tee had ridden up slightly, and she was absentmindedly tugging it higher, cropping it without thinking.

wonyoung stumbled over her words, blinking rapidly. “I—uh—”

yujin frowned. “what’s wrong with you?”

wonyoung quickly shook her head. “nothing, she wants you for a meeting.”

yujin sighed, pushing herself up. “of course she does. can’t let me have a single moment of peace.” she turned to yn, giving her a pointed look. “don’t do anything dumb while I’m gone.”

yn raised her arms in mock defense. “I’m innocent.”

“sure you are.” yujin rolled her eyes before glancing back at wonyoung. “keep her company.”

wonyoung nodded, stepping further inside as yujin left the room. there was a brief moment of silence before yn smirked, tilting her head.

“so,” she drawled, “didn’t expect to see me here?”

wonyoung cleared her throat, crossing her arms. “why would I care if you’re here?”

yn chuckled, shifting so she was sitting up properly. “no reason. you just looked… surprised, that’s all.”

wonyoung scoffed. “you’re imagining things.”

“am I?” yn teased, leaning in slightly. “you’ve been looking at me a lot, y’know.”

wonyoung rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. instead, she sat on yujin’s bed, her knee brushing against yn’s. “so what? maybe you’re just fun to look at.” she didn’t know what she was doing and why she was flirting back, but it felt right, it felt fun.

yn smiled. “oh? does that mean you think I’m cute?”

“you wish,” wonyoung shot back, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

they continued, playful back and forths, wonyoung pretending not to be affected while yn pushed just enough to keep her on her toes.

by the time yujin came back, wonyoung was slipping her number into yn’s phone, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary before she stood up.

“text me,” she murmured, before leaving without another word, what am I doing?

and that was the start of their situationship.

they fell into something that wasn’t quite defined, but it didn’t need to be. moments blurred into each other wonyoung showing up at the studio when yn was both training and producing, bringing her food, making sure she didn’t overwork herself.

yn pulling wonyoung aside in empty hallways, pressing quick kisses against her lips before disappearing like nothing had happened.

wonyoung meeting the boys, wonbin and jay they immediately started ruining yn’s reputation, jokingly of course “be careful with her,” jay had joked, “she’s got a habit of breaking hearts.” “shut up!”

late night food runs, their hands brushing as they reached for the same snack, quiet laughter filling the air as they wandered through neon lit streets.

it was fun. it was exciting. but all highs eventually reach an end.

wonyoung started to realize how serious it was getting, how real it felt. and she couldn’t take it. she was supposed to like boys. this was supposed to be just for fun.

when she got a text from yn one night, inviting her over “movie?” she knew she had to end it.

they hung out like always, laughing, teasing, pretending everything was fine. but then, out of nowhere, wonyoung blurted out-

“this can’t happen.”

yn frowned. “huh?”

“us,” wonyoung said, voice unsteady. “we can’t happen. I like boys. I don’t like girls.”

yn let out a short laugh, but there was something nervous in it. “haha, you’re so funny.”

wonyoung shook her head. “I’m not joking.”

yn’s smile faltered. “you were just…?”

wonyoung hesitated. “Inhave strong feelings for you, but it can’t be romantic.”

yn let out a breathy laugh, but this one was sharp, bitter. “you’re delusional.”

wonyoung’s voice cracked. “we can’t be together. I don’t like girls. I was just—I don’t know what I was doing with you.”

“so what,” yn scoffed, voice laced with hurt, “you were just using me for your closeted urges?”

wonyoung looked at her with tear filled eyes, “I’m not closeted, I just- I just was being weird I don’t know what I was thinking, I don’t like girls.”

“right,” yn said, voice barely above a whisper, “maybe you should leave,”

wonyoung swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry, we can still be friends, that’s what girls do, they’re friends.”

yn let out of laugh of disbelief, before grabbing wonyoung’s arm ignoring wonyoung’s yn please and dragging her to the door, “you’re ridiculous.”

the door shut behind wonyoung, leaving yn alone. she threw herself onto the couch, face buried in the pillow, and screamed. she stayed like that for an hour until the boys came back.

“what’s wrong with you?” jay asked, looking at her suspiciously.

yn lifted her head, her voice hollow. “nothing.”

wonbin and jay exchanged a look.

one look was all it took. yn broke, throwing herself into them, sobs wracking her body as they held her.

“it’s okay,” jay murmured, rubbing her back.

“you’re okay,” wonbin added.

but yn wasn’t sure if she believed them.

and that’s the story of yn and wonyoung

[twistedpink]

Mc inserts x TWST characters pt.2 (OG post) (Pt.3)

(non-yuu pairings that fit into the plot of twst, if you like this then you might want to look at the first part!)

Savanclaw!Mc x Cater Diamond

Enemies to lovers with your favourite diva!! The two of you compete constantly through magicam and spelldrive, getting progressively pettier until the only solution is to kiss it out.. You’re trying to keep an ear out for your junior, and it just so happens Cater’s sniffing out your plan to go for gold in this year’s tournament. You might as well take the chance to mess with him! It’s so easy to love the face he makes when you give him the slip, and you’re totally making it your wallpaper when this is all over.

“Yo, Babe! If you’re in the same dorm, then you know Ruggie, yeah? We need to have a chat”

“Ohmigod you totally think all beastmen know each other, don’t you?? cancled :)”

Shroud!Mc x Vil Schoenheit

Ids attached himself to engineering and gaming pretty early, but your passion is fully unattainable. You’d clung onto pop idols and the art of stage makeup from an early age. Your longest running interest by far is Vil Schoenheit,, He rescued you from destructive habits and encouraged you to value self improvement. You’ve probably invested millions into his career (every thaumark sent anonymously, you’d die if he started to recognize your attached messages). Supporting Ortho in his SDC audition is your official reason to talk with him, and all the teasing from Idia will be so worth it when your Schoenheit debut palette gets signed! You’ve kept it in mint condition behind glass for years admiring it- and waiting for THE day.

“Mr. Schoenheit? My younger brother performed for you today, and uh, your signature please?”

“Normally I’d send both of you home for this. I’m sure you’re well aware of my paparazzi policy, However, I haven’t seen this particular relic in years! Just what have you done to preserve the quality?”

Pomefiore!Mc x Ruggie Bucchi

You’re #1 in the business of pissing off your parents- shopping copious amounts and then going to school across the country satiated you for awhile, but they’ve done something particularly revenge worthy now. The best scandal you can think of is getting a trashy boytoy to bring home for the break, but you’re not really into idiots.. Ruggie can be a very good actor given the right motivations, and he might even fool you into a real relationship before next semester.

“C’mon it’s not like I’ll need a script, sugar. I’m a natural, scout’s honor!”

“Either way, it won’t hurt to rehearse for convenience :/ Kiss me now so we don’t look stupid later.”

Scarabia!Mc x Floyd leech

God you hate that fish faced idiot >:( It’s bad enough that the housewarden’s moodswings guaranteed your holiday plans were all shot, but now Jamil’s getting hounded by the mafia! It’s your responsibility to get them off his back, but it’s not like you’re enjoying it. Somehow it’s even worse to watch Floyd when he’s playing dumb, and his emotional roller coaster keeps you walking on eggshells. The show must go on though, and if you’ve gotta play “wrestle until the biting stops” then you’ll do it :/

“Floyd, it’s dinner time, and I will tear you a new one if it means you’ll get moving.”

“PLEASEEEE tiger sharky just one more round :( I’ll even give your pen back!!”

Octavinelle!Mc x Kalim Al-Asim

You’re probably one of the most talkative of octavinelle students, and definitely a solid salesman. Kalim’s a prime target for resales and marketing practice, so naturally you join the pop music club. A year of “playing nice for the jackpot” leads you to lie awake at night, terrified that he’ll see through your facade and ditch you- it would cut off your best friendship, you’d be forced to leave the club! At some point you realize you’d stopped selling him things months ago, and your worst nightmare happened right under your nose. You fell in love.

“Hey, that solo was so inspiring! You’re really making progress!”

“It still isn’t on par with yours, though. Are you available to keep practicing after school? I’m sure Jamil would appreciate the break, and I would enjoy the company..”

Staff!Mc x Lilia Vanrouge

Of course your first job would come with some pet bat, it was too good to be true :( Full time at a bits and bobs shop near one of the best schools in the country WITH flexible hours? You must’ve been desperate to accept without reading about your babysitting in the footnote. He comes in everyday during your shift (regardless of the hours you take, it’s like he has a sixth sense), and has the audacity to exist in your space! It’s not like he even does anything to get banned!! He just stands there. Menacingly. You’re waiting for the day where he leaves convincing evidence that he’s there to traffic you or something- because if you didn’t know better you’d think he has a big, fat crush on you.

“Darling, how is the shop? I’ve taken care of those juvenile delinquents for you!”

“Taken care of? Whatever. Get back to class, kid.”

[no-144444]

꩜ summary: 2 years after he's seen you, and you're still both thinking the same thing...

꩜ pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

꩜a/n: smut 18+

Oscar had no idea what he was doing there. A concert wasn’t usually his scene anyway, but your concert. Fuck, he was out of place, despite not really looking it. Everyone was his age, some guys even looked like him (though they were clearly dragged by their partners), and honestly, had he a gin and tonic in his hand and maybe Logan and Lando by his side, he would’ve probably enjoyed himself. Well, that, and not having a long and deep history with the woman performing. But here he was, drink-less, and Hattie beside him. 

It had been what, 2 years since you’d last seen each other? Not that bad, right? Wrong. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, and the weeks just ticked by so much that texting you would be weird. Oscar was… a kid back then (not really, he was 20), when you two… started, if something even started. It had been one drunk night which had turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him. He remembered everything from that night, despite the ridiculous amount of alcohol he consumed. 

“Have you met Y/n?” Pierre mused, a smirk on his lips. Oscar gulped. The randomest people were always invited to F1 events, and Oscar wasn’t usually interested in attending, but one bad race result meant he wanted a drink, and stuff always tasted better when someone else was paying for it, especially when that someone was the FIA. FIA parties were always interesting. All the celebrities who had come to the race, any driver who wasn’t flying home, and all the F2 drivers who hadn’t left yet. The music was deafening, the lights were low, and bad decisions were inevitable. 

“Who’s that?” he asked as Pierre wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer with that ill-intended smirk he always wore before getting Oscar into trouble. 

“She’s your age, she’s a singer, and she’s hot,” Pierre pushed Oscar into the crowd, his drink almost spilling all down the back of a girls dress, and knocking her over. 

“Shit! Sorry,” he cursed, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. “You alright?” 

You turned around to meet his eyes, and his entire body went stiff. Shit, Pierre wasn’t lying, you were stunning. “All good, thanks though,” you smiled back, flashing him a look of your perfect teeth. Whoever was going to procreate with you was lucky. 

“I’m Oscar, by the way,” he held out his hand to be shaken. This was a rare show of confidence from Oscar. The regular him would’ve just walked on and never thought about the interaction again. “I’m with Alpine-”

“I know who you are,” you chuckled, a wonderful, melodic sound over the deafening music. “I’m Y/n,” you shook his hand. “You’re really talented, too bad about the Sprint this weekend though,” you offered him a sympathetic look, but he was focusing pretty hard on not looking at your tits and the way they jumped out of your dress. 

“Yeah, a shame but… it’s whatever,” he shrugged. “Do you want to grab a drink?” 

“Holy shit,” you whispered against his ear as he continued kissing down your neck. “Never thought I’d be fucked on an F1 car,” you chuckled, digging your nails into his back muscles. He groaned against your neck, but never stopped. Maybe bringing you into the alpine garage to fuck you on an f1 car wasn't the wisest choice, but he did it anyway. The cocky part of his brain told him it was due to the fact he wanted to, but in reality, he just wanted to impress you.

“First time for everything,” he grunted, pulling back. “You’re sure?” he asked. 

“So sure,” you nodded, fisting the bottom of his stupid alpine shirt. He didn’t need to be told twice. He smirked and turned your back to him, feeling a sense of satisfaction when he heard you were moaning at that alone. “Liked that?’ he teased, and you slapped his arm playfully. 

“Just fuck me Oscar,” you rolled your eyes, bending over and leaning on the car. He let out a breath as he pulled your panties down your legs. “I thought racecar drivers were meant to be fast?” you mocked. “You’re taking your time.” 

He shrugged and started unzipping his trousers. “I like to enjoy the view when I’m not driving 300 km an hour,” he was feeling increasingly cocky, and he knew no one was taking him down from this high. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, leaning over you and taking one of your hands in his as he pulled the condom on his cock. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and felt you shiver under him. He was hard, harder than he’d ever been probably. He was going to enjoy this. “You ready?”

“Fuck me Oscar,” you pushed back against him, and he slipped in with one swift motion. Both of you were just frozen for a moment, you were adjusting to his size, while he was trying not to cum already. You were so fucking tight, he had no idea what he was going to do. Maybe he’d have to start naming world champions in his head to hold off longer, or maybe he’d just cum prematurely and make an ass of himself in front of the most interesting girl he’d ever met. Shockingly, he preferred the first option. 

“You can move now,” your voice was low and small, but it didn’t bother him one bit. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back and thrust into you once, knocking the air out of your lungs. Quickly, you two built a rhythm that had you both moaning out louder than either of you had planned. He genuinely prayed no one would check the security cam footage, or else he was for sure fucked. 

“So good Osc,” you whined, grinding back against him. “Feels so good.” 

“Feels fucking amazing,” he groaned, throwing his head back as he thrust into you harder. “So fucking beautiful baby.” 

It didn’t go unnoticed, the way you tightened around him when he said it. He smirked. Nothing was getting him off this ego boost. Ever. 

“Dear god,” you gasped out as he quickened his pace. 

“Not God, Oscar,” he smirked, earning him another slap to the arm. Worth it. 

The next time it happened, it was after Coachella. You’d flown him out to California, he watched your set, and then spent three hours in your dressing room getting rode like a fucking horse. He didn’t complain once. The visits gradually became more regular, and in hotel rooms, or the odd dressing room, or sometimes his Monaco apartment. It was sometimes just lunch, or dinner, and then it turned into that more than sex, and that’s when you ran, and he got his heart broken. 

He shook the memories away and sunk further into the crowd (he hoped), and adjusted the green cap on his head, trying to blend in some more. The last few notes of one of your songs played, and he smiled, watching you perform. 

“How are we feeling Melbourne?” you asked and the crowd went wild. He even clapped a bit, but mostly because Hattie slapped his arm. “Well, I have something for you, it’s a new song…” you paused as the crowd went insane. Hattie grabbed onto his shoulder, her mouth hung open with shock. “It’s called ‘Dear God’, and it’s about a Melbourne native,” you winked at the crowd before the opening chords began. 

His mouth was hung open and all the blood rushed to his ears. He wore ear plugs to concerts, he always had. He had never been a fan of too much noise, but he immediately ripped them out of his ears, and gawked. You danced around the stage, and his eyes never left your body as he listened to the damned lyrics. 

“Dear god, take his kiss right out my brain, take the pleasure outta my pain, take the way he used to say, ‘I love you’, dear god, get his imprint out of my back, take ‘amazing’ out of our sex, take away the way I still might want to,” you sang looking out on the crowd. 

And then your eyes found him and time stopped. You continued singing, you kept dancing, but your eyes never left his. Much like you never stopped thinking about him. Much like you never stopped loving him. Every word was meant. Every word was for him. 

“I want to meet that guy,” you pointed him out to one of your guards. “We know each other. Offer the girl with him a VIP package, she’s famous too. Just, send him straight to my dressing room and send her to the meet and greet, yeah?” 

He nodded, and left to start arranging it. 

The show came and went, and someone told you there was ‘a strange man’ in your dressing room. You smirked. 

“Amazing sex?” he teased, his hands in his pockets. “I think it was a bit better than that.” 

You rolled your eyes and closed the gap between you two, wrapping your arms around his neck. You were hugging him. The world stopped for the second time that night. His arms wrapped around you and squeezed, tight. It felt good. Right. “Missed you,” you admitted, your voice muffled by his (now) broad chest. “Where have you been?” 

You knew it wasn’t a fair question when you were the one who walked away, but you knew Oscar well enough to know he’d just smile and say something deeply profound as if it were completely unremarkable. 

“Waiting for you, I guess,” he shrugged. Check. 

You smiled against his chest. “I love you,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.” 

He pulled back, cupping your cheek with one of his perfect, boyish smiles. “No need to be sorry,” he shook his head. “It all worked out.”

You nodded and pressed forward, catching his lips with yours. All that heat and hurt you caused each other, all those years spent together and cautious, and those spent alone and miserable, it all culminated in that kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made you never want to stop, but alas, humans need air, and Oscar felt fit to faint, but then again, he would for you. 

“Also, the sex was way better than amazing,” you agreed, a chuckle on your lips.  He laughed out loud, that perfect, Oscar laugh. You leaned in and buried your head in his neck.

so close to what masterlist

pop queens mixtape

navigation for my blog :)

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 5

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando woke up feeling like absolute shit.

His head was pounding, his mouth was drier than the desert, and judging by the fact that he’s still half-dressed and tangled in a celebratory McLaren flag, last night must have been good.

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. He remembered fragments of the night before - flashes of bright lights, loud music, and way too much drinking.

He had won.

Lando Norris was a Formula 1 Grand Prix Winner.

He had been nearly drowned in champagne by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

He had won the 2024 Miami Grandprix.

Lando let out a sigh and gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position, clutching his head as a sharp pain shot through his temples.

He fumbled for his phone, cringing at the notifications that had piled up overnight. Messages from friends, family, and the racing world congratulating him on his victory.

He blinked blearily at his phone.

Too early. Too bright. Too… too.

But there’s one thing he needs to do before he even considers getting up.

He scrolled through his notifications, heart sinking when he still doesn’t see Lizzie’s name.

But there’s nothing.

His fingers fumble as he types out another message.

Lando: Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? You didn’t answer last night. I was a bit… not in the best state, but I was really hoping to hear from you.

Lando: I’m just worried. Is everything alright? I know I was probably being a bit much last night, but you can always just let me know if you need space or whatever. I just want to make sure you’re good.

Nothing.

Lando stared at his phone, the pit in his stomach growing deeper with each passing second. He didn't understand why Lizzie hadn't responded, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He groaned, running a hand down his face.

He tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

His stomach twists.

Lando didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Lizzie was usually pretty good about replying to his messages.

He tried texting again.

Lando: Look, I get it if you need time. I don’t want to come off too strong. I just feel like I should've heard from you by now, and I’m starting to panic a bit. Just a quick text would help me breathe for a second, you know?

Lando stared at his phone, watching the time tick by with agonizing slowness. He'd been awake for nearly an hour now, and Lizzie hadn't responded to any of his messages.

He tried calling again, only to be met with the same response - straight to voicemail...again.

And then his phone pinged.

Lizzie: Hi, this is Lizzie’s father. She’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures. She’s woken up a few times, but she’s not very responsive. I don’t know who you are, but judging by the way she’s saved your contact as ‘Lando Not Dying Yet Norris,’ I assume you’re important enough to be told.

Lando blinks. Stares. His hangover vanishes instantly.

She’s at the Royal Sussex Hospital. Thought I’d tell you in case you want to show up to visit her.

Lando feels like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Hospital. Seizures. Not responsive.

He doesn’t even realize he’s shaking until he fumbles trying to type back.

Lando: I—fuck. Is she okay? What happened?

Three little dots appear, then vanish. Then appear again.

Lizzie: She’s stable. But it was bad.

Lando pushes back the covers, already moving, already grabbing for his McLaren hoodie like that will somehow help him fix this.

He needs to be there.

Now.

His hands are unsteady as he opens his flight app. The next available flight back to London is in four hours.

Not soon enough.

Lando: I’m coming back to the UK. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

There’s no reply, but Lando doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, his mind racing, and there’s only one thing he knows for sure—

He has to get to Lizzie.

He…

There was a knock at the door.

Lando jumped, his already frayed nerves on edge. "Who is it?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly.

“It’s Oscar.”

Lando sagged with relief as he recognized the Australian accent drifting through the door. “Come in.”

The door creaked open and Oscar Piastri poked his head into the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lando’s harried expression. “Mate, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lando shook his head, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten even more. "No, not alright. Lizzie’s in the hospital. Multiple seizures."

Oscar’s expression immediately darkened. "What the hell? Multiple seizures? How is she doing now?”

“Not good, apparently. Her dad said she’s stable, but she’s not very responsive. I’m flying back to London to see her.” Lando ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his heart still racing with worry.

“God damn.” Oscar stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him. He studied Lando’s face for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a mess, mate. Have you eaten anything?”

Lando shook his head, the thought of food making his stomach churn. "No, I haven't even had a chance to think about food. I’m just freaking out, mate. I’ve never seen her have a seizure, let alone multiple seizures…She had one last week before we had dinner, but she seemed fine, just tired… I have no idea how bad it’s going to be. This is...this is so messed up."

Oscar nodded sympathetically, his expression still grave. "Go," he said simply. "I'll make your apologies to Zac and the team."

Lando nodded numbly, already moving to pack a bag. Oscar stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "And mate? Try to keep calm. You won’t do Lizzie any good if you’re a wreck yourself."

Lando huffed out a breath. "I’ll try."

"Can you tell Max..." Lando trailed off. He had no idea what to even…

Oscar's expression softened. “I’ll tell Max. And the others. You just focus on getting to the hospital, alright?”

Lando nods, his throat suddenly feeling thick. "Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Oscar."

[chaos-in-shibuya]

My roommates concert (+18)

Geto x fem/afab reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: After two months of being roommates, and kissing on the first day you met, you and Geto have grown close, enjoying each other's company without crossing any lines. But one night, when you go to watch him perform at a small gig, everything changes. A quiet moment backstage leads to something unexpected, leaving you both questioning where things will go from there.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: fluff, bassist geto, jealousy, slow burn, nsfw, longing, sexual tension, teasing, foreplay, body worship, oral sex (female receiving) unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie

𝐖.𝐂: 6.7K 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: the contents of this story are a part 2 to this one. make sure you read it first. ♡

You had been Sugurus roomate for two months now, and while neither of you had labeled anything, there was definitely something there.

The air between you had shifted.

There was a comfort in being around him, but the tension from that first kiss still lingered.

Not only that, but nothing else had happened between you two since.

You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone as Geto tuned his bass across the room.

He had been talking about an upcoming small gig for a couple of days, and that night had finally come.

“It’s nothing special,” he said, looking over at you as he plucked at the strings. “Just a few guys from my old band, jamming at this little place we used to play at back in the day.”

You smiled, watching him, noting the excitement in his eyes that he was trying to play off as casual. “You seem pretty excited for it to be nothing special.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he adjusted the strap on his bass. “I mean, it’s been a while. I’m just looking forward to it, I guess. And, you know…” He hesitated, glancing over at you. “It’s cool that you’re coming to watch.”

You felt a small warmth spreading through your chest at his words. “I wouldn’t miss it. Gotta see if you’re as good as you say,” you teased, earning a smirk from him.

As you headed out together, the energy between you felt comfortable but charged, the same way it had been for weeks.

There clearly was something going on between the two of you that surpassed the lines of being just roommates, but neither of you had made a move to define it.

Two months of living together, and you had both settled into an easy routine.

Sharing meals, hanging out, talking late into the night, but always with that tension in the air surrounding you, just beneath the surface.

You were sitting at a small, dimly lit table in the back of a bar, chatter and clinking glasses filling the space around you.

The place had a grungy, intimate vibe, with faded posters on the walls and a few scattered tables occupied by groups of friends, mostly locals.

You sipped your drink, trying to shake off the slight nervousness bubbling in your chest.

You had never seen Geto perform before, and even though he had mentioned it casually, you could tell playing meant a lot to him.

The lights were dimmed, and the stage at the front of the room was lit by a single spotlight.

It was almost time for the band to start, and as the minutes ticked by, your anticipation built. Your eyes scanned the room.

There were all kinds of people there, some your age, others older but clearly all were there for the music.

A group of girls near the stage caught your attention.

They were laughing, leaning against the bar, looking a little too eager for the band to come out.

You pushed the thought aside, trying to not let it bother you.

You knew you and Geto weren’t technically together, but still, there was something about seeing other girls there, probably hoping for his attention, that made your chest tighten.

Then, the lights shifted slightly, and Geto stepped onto the stage with his bass slung over his shoulder, his usual calm expression adorning his face.

You sat up straighter, your pulse quickening at the sight of him in a different light.

Literally.

The quiet guy you had been getting to know for months now suddenly looked different, more confident, like he belonged up there.

He was dressed in a simple black t-shirt, that accentuated the lean muscles in his arms and the tattoos that peeked out from under his sleeves, revealing the intricate patterns snaking down his forearms.

Bold, dark lines stood out under the low lights, drawing attention to the ink that usually stayed hidden behind long sleeves.

That night, though, they were on full display, and that added to that air of mystery already surrounding him.

His hair, which he normally wore loosely tied back, was pulled into a slightly messy bun at the nape of his neck, with a few strands falling free to frame his face.

There was something about the way the dim stage lights reflected in his dark hair and highlighted the sharp angles of his face that made him even more captivating.

As he stood there, bass in hand, his presence was magnetic.

You were used to seeing him laid-back and quiet at home, but up there with his tattoos visible and his sharp features highlighted, he looked more intense, more sure of himself.

You could almost hear the gasps of that group of girls in front of the stage from where you were sitting in the back of the room, as Geto walked out on stage.

The crowd quieted down, the buzz of conversation fading as the rest of the band came out and began to set up.

You watched Geto as he adjusted his bass and the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings.

You couldn’t help but watch the way he looked making it impossible for you to stray your eyes away.

When they started playing, the sound was raw and heavy, the bassline deep and steady, and you could feel it vibrating in your chest.

Geto looked focused, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips, a quiet satisfaction as the music went on.

The crowd was into it, heads bobbing to the rhythm, and you noticed those girls near the front moving a little closer to the stage, their eyes locked on him.

A drop of jealousy hit you, sharper than you expected, and you took a sip of your drink to distract yourself.

You knew it was silly to feel that way.

He was performing, not even paying attention to them.

But you found it really hard to ignore the way they seemed to be trying to catch his attention, especially when you had been growing closer to him those past few weeks.

Your eyes were glued on Geto, though.

He was captivating, you were entranced by the way he moved with the music, his focus entirely on the performance.

And yet, every once in a while, you caught him glancing in your direction, almost like he was checking to see if you were watching.

Each time, your heart skipped a beat, the tension between you feeling like it was tightening even more.

The set continued, the music filling the space, but you were caught in your own thoughts.

The sight of him up there, so in control, so confident, stirred something in you.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same thing, the same thing that had been brewing between you for weeks.

As the final notes of the set faded, Geto looked out over the crowd, his gaze landing on you.

For a brief second, the noise of the bar faded away, and it felt like it was just the two of you in the room.

His eyes lingered on yours, and you could clearly feel a silent acknowledgment of the tension between you, the unspoken attraction that had been building for so long.

And then he looked away, turning back to his bandmates.

You were still sitting at the table, trying to ignore the excited energy from the group of girls near the stage.

You finished your drink, trying to ignore the way they began clapping and shouting for another song.

One of the girls from the group started to make her way over to him, her confidence unmistakable as she leaned casually against the side of the stage.

She was smiling, her eyes locked on Geto, and you could already feel that slight hint of jealousy coming back.

You watched, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you couldn’t stop the way your heartbeat raced as she said something to him, leaning in closer than necessary.

She was being bold.

Her hand lightly brushed his arm, and she tossed her hair back, clearly trying to catch his attention.

You sat up straighter, the heat rising in your chest, even as you tried to tell yourself to relax.

It was nothing, right?

Besides, you had seen that before.

Girls always seemed drawn to Geto.

They always seemed drawn to his quiet, mysterious vibe.

You noticed it every time you went grocery shopping with him.

But being used to it didn’t make it easier to watch.

To your relief, Geto didn’t seem fazed.

His body language was distant, his eyes shifting away from hers as if he was barely listening to what she was saying.

He nodded politely, offering a kind smile, but there was no visible interest in him.

Still, the girl didn't notice that.

Instead, she leaned in closer, her voice too distant to hear, but her laughter loud enough to be heard through the noise of the crowd.

Your grip tightened around your empty glass as you watched the exchange, trying not to let the jealousy consume you.

It was irrational.

You knew that.

Geto wasn’t interested, that was obvious.

But it was really hard to ignore the fact she was so clearly making a move on him, right in front of you.

Just as you were about to look away, the girl's gaze suddenly shifted in your direction, her eyes narrowing slightly when she noticed you already staring back at her.

It was like she was sizing you up, acknowledging your presence for the first time.

The corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk, and she turned back to Geto, saying something that you couldn't exactly hear, but could clearly see through her body language.

She was trying to claim him, as if to say,“watch this, he’s mine.’’

You could feel the irritation building up inside of you, but before you could react, Geto followed her gaze and locked eyes with you.

For a split second, the noise of the bar seemed to fade again, just like it had during his performance.

His expression softened the moment he saw you, and there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Reassurance, maybe?

A subtle sign that he didn’t care for her.

Without missing a beat, Geto pulled away from the girl, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped down from the stage.

He made his way toward you, the girl watching in silence, a stunned expression on her face, her confidence wavering as she realized she had lost his attention.

The smirk vanished from her lips, but you could feel her eyes burning into you as Geto approached.

He stopped in front of you, that familiar calmness coating his features as he gave you a small, almost teasing smile.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and casual, as if the entire room wasn’t buzzing with energy.

“Hey,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the way your heart was racing.

He didn’t even acknowledge the girl, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of victory. The tension between you thickened, but now it felt more like a mutually shared thing, something that neither of you needed to point out.

He didn’t have to say anything.

His actions spoke for themselves.

As you sat there, the moment between you and Geto was interrupted by that girl.

She had followed him to the table, her energy still high.

She leaned on the edge of your table, her smile dripping with false charm.

She was pretending you weren’t even there, directing her full attention back to Geto, her voice suddenly louder, faker.

“Suguru,” she purred, using his first name as if they had known each other for years. “You were amazing up there. I didn’t know you were that good.”

You rolled your eyes internally, trying not to let the irritation show on your face.

Geto, still standing close to you, just gave her a polite nod. “Thanks,” he said, his tone flat. He averted his gaze slightly, making it obvious that he wasn’t planning on keeping the conversation going, but she didn’t seem to take the hint.

Instead, she leaned in closer to him, her fingers brushing the sleeve of his shirt. “We should definitely hang out sometime,” she said, her voice lowering just a bit, like she was trying to seduce him.

Your grip tightened on your glass, and you glanced up at Geto, but he was still calm, barely reacting to her attempts.

His eyes flickered toward you briefly, as if to check in, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Almost like he was amused by her persistence.

Before he could say anything, though, the girl turned her attention toward you, finally acknowledging your presence.

She looked you up and down, her expression dripping with fake sweetness. “Oh,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Are you a fan of the band too, or are you just here for… moral support?”

You could feel the passive-aggressive energy behind her words, and it took everything in you to keep your expression neutral. “Sure,” you responded coldly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

She chuckled, clearly unimpressed. “Cute,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “But you know, real fans get to know the band… personally.”

Her eyes flashed to Geto again, as if she was waiting for him to back her up.

But he was silent, looking almost bored by her remarks.

Instead of reacting, he finally stepped closer to you, subtly putting some distance between himself and the girl.

He placed his arm around your shoulders, the gesture casual but possessive enough that it was impossible to miss.

And unexpected enough that it made you jump slightly in your chair at the sudden touch.

“I’m good, thanks,” he said to the girl, his voice calm but final. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

The girl blinked, clearly not expecting his bluntness. “Plans?” she repeated, her voice faltering as she glanced between the two of you, the realization finally hitting her.

The smirk on her face disappeared, replaced by a spark of annoyance.

“Yeah,” Geto replied, his eyes locked on yours now, a small smile playing on his lips. “With her.”

“Oh,” she said, feigning surprise, but you could tell she wasn’t giving up just yet. “Well, maybe we can all hang out sometime?”

You felt a mix of annoyance and amusement at her persistence, and quickly acted upon those feelings, shaking your head. “I think we’ll pass,” you replied firmly, the irritation creeping into your voice.

She pouted slightly, clearly not expecting the rejection, but instead of giving up, she leaned in a little more, undefeated. “Are you sure?,” she insisted, turning to him, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I’m pretty fun.”

You could sense the tension in the air as she tried to navigate her way back into the conversation, but Geto’s focus remained on you, and you could see the slight shift in his expression.

He was done entertaining her.

“She said, we’ll pass,” he said, a subtle annoyance in his tone that made it clear he wasn’t interested in indulging her further.

She scoffed a little, finally realizing her attempts weren’t proving successful, and straightened up. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, forcing a smile. “But you should definitely think about it.”

With one last flirtatious glance, she turned and walked away, the sound of her heels clacking on the floor fading into the background noise of the bar as she went back to her group of friends.

She left, and the air suddenly felt lighter, but still charged.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice low, a hint of amusement in it. “Some people just don’t get the hint.”

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “No worries. I get it. It’s not your fault.” But deep down, you couldn’t help the flutter of excitement that rushed through you.

He chose you over her, and that realization sent a rush of warmth through your chest.

“Hey, do you want to come backstage and meet the guys from the band?” he asked, his tone casual but you could see a hint of excitement in his eyes.

“Really? I’d love to!” you replied, surprised yet thrilled at the invitation.

The thought of getting to know his world a little bit better was exhilarating, and you felt honored he was showing it to you.

You followed him to the back of the bar, and he led you to a hallway that ended with a door to a dressing room.

You entered behind him, and looked around.

The walls were also adorned with posters and the faint sound of old rock music played from a distant speaker.

An old looking couch sat against one wall, surrounded by a few scattered bottles of beer and a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting at a low table, giving the room a laid-back, messy yet comfortable vibe.

The lighting was dim and the air was thick with the scent of wood and a hint of cigarette smoke.

Inside, the band members were busy packing up their equipment, but they stopped to greet you with warm smiles. “Hey, you made it!” one of them said, his friendly demeanor instantly putting you at ease.

Geto stood beside you, his body language exuding satisfaction, as if he was proud to have you there.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat up red at the way all of their eyes were on you.

They exchanged glances, but you caught the way Geto watched you, his gaze softening.

The guys started asking you questions about your music taste, and soon enough, the room was filled with laughter and easy conversation.

They told you about their old gigs, shared funny stories from their concerts, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying their company.

Each time you glanced at Geto, you saw him smiling, clearly happy that you were fitting in so well.

“Honestly, we need more people like you in our crowd,” one of the bandmates joked, nudging Geto playfully. “He never brings anyone to hang out!”

You laughed, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. “I’m lucky to be here tonight then.”

As the conversation continued, you felt a genuine connection with the band, and it was easy to understand why Geto liked them so much.

They were relaxed, funny, and very supportive of each other.

But eventually, the time came for them to start packing up their things, and the energy in the room shifted slightly.

“We’ve got to get our gear to the band van before the bar kicks us out,” one of the guys says, glancing at the clock.

They all started getting up from their seats, and as the excitement of the moment began to fade, you felt a slight pang of disappointment.

“Thanks for having me, guys. It was really nice meeting you!” you said, trying to hold onto the warmth of the evening.

“Anytime! You should come to our next gig,” another bandmate suggested, giving you a grin as they gathered their things.

Geto looked at you, and there was a moment of shared understanding.

The relationship between him and his bandmates was great, but the connection you had been building felt even more special after that.

As the last of the equipment was loaded up into their van, the band members said their goodbyes, leaving you and Geto alone in the cozy dressing room.

The atmosphere felt different, quieter, and the soft glow of the low lights created an intimate setting that enhanced the tension between you.

You and Geto exchanged glances, and there was a shift in the air around you, a palpable awareness of each other that wasn’t there before.

He stepped a little closer, the distant sound of laughter and chatter outside barely reaching you.

“You did great tonight,” you said, your voice soft but filled with sincerity.

“Thanks. I’m glad you came,” he replied, and there was a warmth in his tone that made your heart race.

In that small, intimate space, the unspoken feelings between you two started to bubble to the surface, and you couldn’t shake away the thought that something significant was about to happen.

The room felt comfortable, the lingering sound of the bar's music fading into the background of the moment you were sharing, where it was just the two of you.

No distractions.

No expectations.

Just the quiet tension that had been building for weeks.

You both settled onto the small couch, the air thick with unspoken words.

You inhaled deeply, and took a moment to collect your thoughts, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you.

“I really can’t believe how good you were up there,” you started, trying to keep your tone light, but there was an intensity in your gaze. “You looked incredible, and the way you played... It was amazing. I really enjoyed it.”

Geto shifted slightly, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips at your praise. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice low and sincere. “It means a lot to hear that from you.”

You took a breath, deciding to be upfront about what you had experienced earlier. “But I have to be honest... I felt a bit jealous when those girls were looking at you like that,” you confessed, your cheeks warming. “I know we’re not together or anything, but I couldn’t help it.”

Geto’s expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face.

“You don’t have to apologize for how you feel,” he said, his tone steady yet gentle. “I get it. It’s not easy watching people try to grab my attention when I’m just trying to focus on the music.”

You glanced down, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “I know it sounds stupid. I shouldn’t feel that way...”

“No, it’s not stupid,” he interrupted softly, his voice firm. “I understand how you feel.” He leaned in slightly, the distance between you shrinking, and your heart raced at the change in his demeanor.

“Really?” you asked, looking up at him, searching for sincerity in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours. “Even if we’re not technically together, it doesn’t change the fact that I like being around you. You mean a lot to me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

You swallowed, the reality of the situation washing over you. “I... I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

The warmth in your chest spread, mingling with the excitement of being so close to him, and as he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from him. “I didn’t bring you here just for the concert, you know,” he said, his tone dropping lower. “I wanted you to see that side of me, but I also wanted to spend time with you.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Geto...” You tried to continue, but he interrupted again, his gaze sincere and focused.

“You don’t need to feel jealous or insecure. It’s just you and me here. And honestly? I’m glad it’s you.” The sincerity in his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and the tension lingered in the air, thick and electric.

You sat there, stuck in the intensity of his gaze, the world outside the dressing room fading

into a distant memory.

“I’m really glad I came tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the honesty behind your words making your heart pick up pace. “It feels different being here with you.”

Geto leaned in closer, the couch suddenly feeling too small for the two of you “It does, doesn’t it?” he replied, his voice low, intimate.

There was something vulnerable in his eyes that caused your breath to falter.

You found yourself moving closer to him, almost unconsciously, the tension wrapping around you like a rope. “I’ve been thinking about this moment,” you confessed, your heart pounding in your chest. “About what it would be like if we didn’t have to hide how we feel.”

He narrowed the gap even more. “Same here,” he admitted, his voice steady, yet filled with an undeniable intensity “It’s hard not to think about it when you’re around.”

As the words hung in the air, the space between you grew heavier with desire.

You could see the emotion in his eyes.

Something raw and genuine.

And it sent a thrill through you.

“I don’t think I can handle just staring at you any longer…” you said softly, your heart racing as you searched his gaze for any hesitation.

But instead, you found only warmth and a deep longing, matching yours.

Without thinking, you leaned in closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

He didn’t pull back, though.

Instead, he closed the distance between you, his breath mingling with yours.

The moment stretched, and you could feel even more intensely the heat radiating from him, the way his presence enveloped you.

Then, without a word, he closed the gap, capturing your lips with his.

It was soft at first, a gentle kiss that sent shockwaves through your body, igniting every nerve ending.

But as you leaned into him, it deepened, the kiss becoming more urgent, more passionate.

His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you onto his lap, as if he was trying to erase any space that remained between you.

You responded instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck, and your legs straddling his sides, melting into him as the kiss intensified.

Your heart raced, the rhythm of your pulse echoing in your ears, drowning out the rest of the world.

His fingers traced the contours of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

He broke the kiss, his gaze locked on yours briefly, his breathing heavy.

He cupped your face, pulling you back in for another kiss, more intense than the last.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,’’ he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You could feel the heat of his body, the evidence of his desire pressing against your core.

Geto’s fingers trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, and settled on your breasts, his thumb teasing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

He pulled back again, his eyes filled with hunger, a silent plea for the both of you to continue down this path.

“Geto,’’ you murmured, your voice a soft, breathy whisper.

You leaned into his touch, encouraging him to explore further.“I... I want you too.’’

You reached down, grasping his hand, and guided it under your shirt, feeling his fingers brush against your skin.

The sensation made you shiver with anticipation, the intimacy of the gesture stirring something deep within you.

The room swirled around you, the line between reality and fantasy blurring as you surrendered to the moment.

Geto’s lips found your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin, sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body.

You responded swiftly, your hands finding their way to the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head.

His breath hitched as you pulled his shirt off, and he watched as your eyes roamed over his body, taking in every line, every curve, every tattoo.

He felt a sense of pride, of accomplishment, knowing that you found him desirable.

Leaning in, he captured your lips once more, his hands tracing the curves of your body.

He knew you were as affected as he was, that the connection between you was as electric for you as it was for him.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his tongue tasting your skin.

He could feel your pulse quickening, your breath coming in short gasps, your body arching into his touch.

He smiled against your skin, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.

Geto’s hands explored your body, his fingers reaching the end of your shirt, tugging at the hem until it was bunched up around his hands.

He slid it over your head and his lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along your collarbone, down to your breasts.

He took one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, teasing it into a hard peak.

A moan escaped your lips, the sensation overwhelming.

He moved to the other side, repeating the process, his hands sliding up your thighs, until his fingers reached the limit of your shorts.

His lips crashed into yours once more, his tongue dancing with yours, your taste intoxicating.

He pulled back and laid you on your back, his eyes filled with hunger and desire as he hovered over you on the couch.

Geto’s hands found the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking onto the fabric and pulling it down, taking off your underwear with it, revealing your most intimate self to him.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve, every line.

Geto felt a sense of awe, knowing that you had chosen to share this part of yourself with him.

He leaned down, his lips finding your inner thigh, his tongue tracing a path upwards.

He felt your muscles tensing, your body anticipating his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place.

His tongue reached your wetness, his lips parting to taste you, to explore you.

Your breath hitched, your body arching into his touch.

Taking his time, he traced his tongue over every fold, every crease, his fingers joining in, stroking and teasing.

Your body began responding to his touch, your hips moving in rhythm with his tongue.

He looked up, his eyes locking onto yours, watching as you lost yourself in the moment.

The sight of you, so lost in pleasure, so vulnerable, was mesmerizing.

His tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could feel your body trembling, the tension building within you.

As you neared your climax, he felt your muscles twitch, your body arching off the couch, your moans growing louder, more desperate.

He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working in perfect sync.

And then, it happened.

Your body convulsed slightly, your soft moans turning into breathy whimpers as you reached that peak of pleasure.

Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

He pulled back, his eyes filled with admiration and affection as he watched you recover from the intensity of your orgasm.

He wiped his mouth, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

Geto’s heart raced, his own arousal growing with each passing moment.

He could feel his own need growing, aching for release.

Looking at you, his eyes filled with desire, he stood up, unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants.

His erection sprung free, evidence to his need.

He watched as your eyes locked onto it, your breath hitching in your throat.

He got on top of you, his erection pressing against your core.

“Geto…’’ you moaned, your voice breathy and needy. “Please…’’

You could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against you, hard and insistent.

You reached down, your fingers wrapping around his length.

He groaned at your touch, his hips slightly bucking against your hand.

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he gazed down at you. “I want you so badly, baby. I need to be inside you.’’

You nod, your own need perfectly mirroring his.

He paused, taking a deep breath, savoring the moment before he entered you.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his erection nudging against you.

Slowly, he pushed inside, his pace deliberate, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. Your eyes widened, your body tensing as he filled you, your muscles stretching to accommodate him.

He watched your face, reading the emotion that flickered across it, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort.

As he sank deeper, your body relaxed, the discomfort fading, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure.

You could feel every inch of him, stretching you, filling you up like you had never experienced before.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locked on yours, waiting for your cue.

You nodded, and he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, gradually building in speed and intensity.

His hands rested on your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples, adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

You responded to his touch, your hips moving in sync with his, your moans growing louder, more urgent.

“Fuck,’’ he exhaled, his voice shaky. “You feel incredible.’’

His hands began exploring your body, and you felt a rush of pleasure coursing through you.

Your skin tingled under his touch, every nerve ending lighting up with sensation.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts growing harder, deeper.

You moaned, your nails digging into his back, your hips rising to meet his.

The room filled up with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the rhythmic creaking of the sofa and your mingled moans and gasps.

Geto’s mouth found yours, his kisses hungry and demanding.

His tongue tangled with yours, tasting you, claiming you.

“You're so tight,’’ he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. “So perfect.“

One hand slid down your body, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles, a gasp escaping your lips at the contact.

“You’re such a good girl, taking me so well.’’ His heart swelled with pride as he felt your body respond to his touch, your moans and gasps spurring him on.

His fingers on your clit sent shockwaves through you, your muscles clenching around his length.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Your bodies moved in sync with your walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,’’ you moaned, your voice high and needy.

“That's it, baby,’’ he groaned, his voice strained with exertion and lust. “Let go for me. I want to feel you come undone.’’

His fingers worked your clit with renewed vigor, his thumb circling the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure to send waves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth.

He swallowed your moans, basking in the sounds of your pleasure, the proof of his effect on you.

His hips pounded into you, the wet sounds of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the room mixing up with your moans and cries.

The sensation of his hard length filling you, stretching you, combined with the delicious friction of his fingers on your clit, pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Your muscles began to tense, your body quivering slightly.

“I'm close,’’ you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body arching off the couch. “So close, Geto. Please, I need…’’

He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, more erratic.

He felt your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him, and he knew you were on the verge of climax.

“Come for me, baby, there you go,’’ he breathed out, his free hand firmly gripping your hip.

His words, the intensity of his thrusts, the skilled touch of his fingers, it was all too much, the pressure inside you building to an almost unbearable level

With a cry of his name, you shattered, your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body trembled, your vision went blurry, your toes curled as the pleasure consumed you.

Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the intensity of your release.

Feeling your walls clenching around him, the rhythmic contractions surrounding him, urged him towards his own release.

He continued to thrust into you, his pace unrelenting, his movements growing more and more desperate as he chased his own climax.

“Fuck, I'm... I'm going to..." he moaned, his voice strained, his forehead pressed against yours.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin, his teeth grazing it.

Geto’s body tensed, his muscles straining as he neared his own peak.

His thrusts become urgent, losing their rhythm as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

His pacing was cut off by a shaky whimper as his climax hit him like a freight train.

His hips jerked, his length pulsing inside you as he filled you up with his seed.

His body shuddered, his muscles trembling as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch, his breathing ragged, as he tried to recover.

He lifted his head, his eyes finding yours, his gaze intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and adoration.

He smiled, a slow lazy curl of his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I've wanted that for so long,’’ he confessed, his voice soft, vulnerable.“Wanted you.’’

He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him, your back pressing against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close.

He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in your scent, committing it to memory.

“Can we stay like this for a little?’’ he asked, his voice hopeful. “I don't want to let you go just yet.’’

You felt the warmth of his body enveloping you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back calming your thoughts.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied softly, leaning back against him, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the comfort of his embrace.

The world outside the dressing room faded away once more, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble. “I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, the tension from earlier long gone, morphed into a comfortable intimacy.

Geto chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back. “Yeah? Just you and me in a tiny room, hiding from the world?” There was a teasing tone in his voice, but you could sense the sincerity behind it.

“Sounds perfect to me,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

He tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you even closer.. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something more serious, “I really didn’t expect tonight to go like this.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his expression.

There was a seriousness to his tone that made your heart flutter. “Yeah? How did you expect it to go?”

He hesitated for a moment, the air between you thickening. “I thought I’d just perform, introduce you to the guys and then... you know, go home. But then I saw the way you were looking at me in that crowd and everything changed.”

You felt your cheeks heat at his admission. “Really? I didn’t think I’d make that much of a difference.”

He chuckled again, but this time it held a hint of vulnerability. “You have no idea. It didn’t feel like I was playing for a crowd. It felt like I was playing just for you.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

You took a breath, feeling a mix of emotions.

Excitement, nervousness, and anxiety all at the same time.

“Geto,” you started, wanting to say something meaningful, but the way he held you made it hard to think straight.

He turned you to face him, his eyes searching yours. “I know this is all new and kind of overwhelming, but I want you to know that... I’m really glad you’re here.”

You nodded, your heart racing as you looked into his deep, dark eyes. “Me too,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment.

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours, and for a heartbeat, everything felt perfectly aligned. “I don’t want this to be just a moment. ” he spoke, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

The space between your lips closed in an instant, and you felt the spark of connection ignite again as your mouths met.

Time seemed to stand still as you melted against him, the outside world forgotten.

In that small, intimate dressing room, nothing else mattered.

Just you, Geto, and the growing connection that pulled you closer together.

[na0koz]

Love your toxic/stalker Jinx but like.. what would happen if she got caught? By anyone (Like Vi, Vander, etc) but also/or reader

toxic!jinx masterlist

now i think vi has always known in the back of her mind that maybe jinx loves you a bit too much. but at the same time she didn’t really register all the photos of you on her wall, your name paired with hers written on every surface even her skin, the amount of time she spends out of the house since meeting you.

like vi knows about you, you’re the only thing jinx talks about. she knows jinx, and knows very well that she’s obsessive but she’s never been obsessed to this extent. it concerns vi slightly so she decides to take a look in jinx’s room.

the photos are obvious, they’re literally plastered over her walls. she then notices a corner with a pile of stuff in it, above it is your name in a heart carved into the wall. vi carefully starts to pick apart the pile, finding the nail polish jinx stole from you, the clothes, everything else she pinched from your apartment.

this freaks vi out slightly so she keeps looking around. on her bedside table there is the piece of metal that jinx fashioned a key to unlock your apartment with. the distinct key-shaped cutout, paired with an open notebook listing everywhere you’ve been and everyone you’ve spoken to basically every day in the last 6 months that tells vi everything she needs to know.

when jinx comes home that day, vi is sitting on the couch. unusual for her, she’s generally in her room blasting rock music and wallowing in her sadness over some blue-haired girl. jinx stands opposite the couch, wondering what the look on vi’s face is for.

“are you stalking that girl you’re always talking about?”

jinx freezes. she has no idea what to say.

vi sighs. “you can’t do that, jinx. besides, aren’t you dating?”

jinx looks at the carpet under her feet. “no… i haven’t.. asked her,” she whispers. she cannot believe that she’s been caught. is vi gonna force her to leave you alone? she can’t deal with that, and jinx starts to panic.

vi is close to anger now, “are you kidding? what the hell is wrong with you?! does she know?”

“of course she doesn’t know.”

they argue back and forth for a bit, mainly vi yelling at jinx and jinx cautiously whispering a response, as if you were on the other side of the door listening.

after that, jinx stays in her room for a couple of days with the door locked. every time vi comes knocking, she either stays silent or starts screaming at her to fuck off. her phone is dead and she has no plans of charging it, despite the fact she knows you’ve probably texted and called her multiple times.

instead, she just stares at the photos she has of you, from before the two of you met.

to be honest though, she just goes back to her usual acts after she gets over herself.

-

if reader found out on the other hand, i had to think pretty hard about what would happen.

i don’t think reader would fully find out what she was doing, but just something surface level. like not the full extremes of jinx’s obsession.

one day, you and jinx had a sleepover and it was the next morning. jinx was laying on your stomach fiddling with the waistband of your shorts when you ask her the question she has dreaded for months.

“have you been following me?”

her hands freeze, eyes widened staring ahead of her. she breathes out a laugh.

“what?”

“have you been following me around?”

“n-.. no? what do you mean?” her voice trembles slightly. she was so fucked.

“i keep seeing you in random places at the same time i’m there,” you talk with an unwavering tone. you need her to know you’re serious about this.

“that’s not me. it could just be someone else with blue hair? i’m not the only person in the world with it,” jinx feigns a small laugh. she’s not sure why.

“no, it’s definitely you jinx. i see your face every time, just watching me from a distance.”

she curls herself into an even tighter ball on your bed. she has literally no idea what to do in the situation.

you stare at her for a bit, noticing her trembling fingers still holding the hem of your pyjamas. you decide you should try and get her to talk, to explain herself.

“i’m not gonna be mad. i just need you to tell me if you have been following me or not.” you’re 98% sure she has been, but maybe it was a coincidence, like the couple of times when you ran into her in public.

more silence follows. a few minutes later, she finally speaks up.

“maybe i have a few times. i just.. worry about you. it’s only ‘cus i love you. i’m just checking you’re okay.” she honestly sounds like she’s about to burst into tears.

“you can just text me and ask how i’m doing, jinx.”

you feel a tear wet your pyjama shirt. this is is honestly not how you thought she’d take it.

“no.. no you don’t get it. i have to see that you’re okay with my own eyes.”

the two of you go back and forth for a while, jinx trying to justify her actions and you shutting her down every time. her arguments have a lot of holes in them.

after a brief pause, you try to reach a conclusion.

“can you just stop following me around, then? it’s scary.”

scary. there is nothing jinx hates more than the idea of you being scared of her.

“i’ll stop,” she breathes. maybe she will for a bit but.. she’ll find a way to keep doing it.

“okay. thank you,” you reply with a sigh, placing your hand on her back to try and comfort her. she had created a significant wet patch on your shirt now, from the involuntary tears falling while she refused to get up from her spot on your stomach.

“i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry. i love you,” jinx chants.

you tell her it’s fine.

you’re stuck with her.

[hoonieyun]

now playing...

after midnight - chappell roan

pairing: singer/producer lee heeseung x singer reader "y/n" x singer sim jaeyun

warnings: profanity, suggestive, kissing, heeseung is thirsty, overall 18+ - also this is partially written so please make sure to read the written part so it all makes sense

wc: 954

ignore the time stamps and any possible typos lol

heeseung approaches y/n as she’s mingling with jake and his friends. her smile fading after he taps her shoulder and he comes into view. “can i steal her for a bit?” heeseung asks jake as if jake was the person in charge of you. a recurring behavior heeseung where he felt the need to always show ownership and possession of you when you were dating, rarely ever considering how you felt or how it would affect you. 

jake shakes his head and lets you go with heeseung even if you don't want to. heeseung grabs your wrist after failing to hold your hand, dragging you to a part of the venue where you weren’t necessarily seen by a lot of people. “what do you want heeseung? i’m trying to enjoy the party…” you say with a sigh and he tries to reel you in by showing you his big doe eyes and even though it slightly made your heart flutter, you chose to stand on business. 

“look, i know i fucked up but just give me one more chance to treat you right.” heeseung says but slows down as the sentence progresses when you just so happen to say the same exact things as him. this was the sentence he had pulled on you in the past and quite frankly, it worked a few times but not this time. 

“you didn’t even wanna try a new script to get me back?” you ask coldly and heeseung drops his face like he has been caught. “okay, i just don’t know what to say. i miss you and i know i was a fucking ass but i just can’t stand being without you.” heeseung says and you just watch him, waiting because you know he was eventually going to tell on himself. he had that habit, when heeseung was drunk and he began to ramble at you, if you just stared at him his silent pauses would be filled with more rambling because he wanted to avoid the awkward silence. so he’d fill it with more talking and eventually confess something he didn’t mean to.

“and i don’t know. that sond i made was mean i admit that but did you have to do a collab with jake of all people? you know how much i liked his music and it felt like a low blow.” there it is…

“ha! i knew it! you’re jealous, i can’t believe this is what this is actually about. do you even want me back or are you just threatened with the idea that someone else wants me and that i’m no longer yours?” you ask, anger in your voice and heeseung doesn’t know what to say. 

“heeseung, i mean this in the nicest way possible, leave me alone.” you say and although heeseung was expecting something a bit harsher, your tired demeanor and offset to his advances hurt more than your words. 

you walk away before heeseung could say another but you don’t rejoin jake and his friends, choosing to find a spot you could be alone for a few minutes. 

you turn around to hide yourself from jake as he approaches, half embarrassed that he has to see you like this and the other feeling guilty as you’re bringing down the vibe of his own party. 

“you okay, pretty?” jake asks as he pushes open the door to the balcony. the cold air whipping past him as he takes the spot next to you. clearing your throat, “yeah, i’m okay. sorry i don’t wanna be a downer on your birthday.” you say, trying to avoid eye contact but jake softly grabs your chin to make eye contact with you. 

“can i be honest..? i wasn’t really feeling the party either.” jake says with a chuckle and he gets a laugh out of you at the same time, smiling even bigger when he hears your laugh that he finds so pretty. 

“wanna get out of here?” he asks and as much as you wanted to, you felt bad. “jake, this is your party, you should be here.” you say to him and jake just rolls his eyes with a pout. “nah, everyone in there is probably too drunk to even notice.” he reassures you and for a moment you’re just looking at each other. jake’s eyes are fishing for the small glint in your eyes that tells him you want this as much as he does, and indeed you do. 

you take his hand in yours and drag him back inside, past the party, and into the elevator. “where you taking me, huh?” jake says, teasingly and you roll your eyes at him playfully as you drag jake to your car. 

the drive back to your place is filled with laughter and singing random songs with jake. he couldn’t believe this was finally, his crush on you was finally progressing to something more. his eyes widened at the sight of your apartment, a high rise but humble home that screamed your style. cute figures and stuffed animals scattered throughout the home and empty cans of energy drinks on your kitchen counter. 

jake is taken out of his thoughts when you slam the door behind him and you grab him by the collar. “do you think i’m pretty?” you ask even though you already know that answer to it. jake nods, desperation in his eyes as he looks down at your lips. 

“do you wanna kiss me, jakey?” you ask and he nods eagerly, answering faster than the first time. you don’t even get a chance to lean closer to jake before he crashes his lips onto yours. a moment he had been waiting for. 

masterlist - back - next

hoonieyun notes: trouble in paradise for heeseung means smooth sailing for jake! what do we think jake and yn are going to do once they get to yn's place? do a puzzle? coloring book? bake cookies?

also please answer the little poll, the result doesn't affect the story but i'd love to see yalls input

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

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[shadyfestivalperfection]

The Roommate Rulebook~1

Summery: When a campus housing glitch sticks you with Peter Parker as your roommate, things start rocky—he’s always disappearing, hogs the shower, and leaves weird bruises and tech parts around. But as late-night ramen turns into real conversations and comfort, you slowly start to fall for him… only to discover he’s hiding a much bigger secret than you imagined.

Characters: College!Peter Parker (T.H.) x College!F!Reader

Note: All characters except Peter Parker, Ned, MJ and Dr. Ock are mine!

||Master List||

Chapter 1: The Glich

You were sweating.

Not from the heat—not entirely. More from the combination of lugging two duffel bags, a suitcase, and a mini fan across campus while trying to pretend you totally weren’t dying inside. Your parents had kissed you goodbye ten minutes ago with matching expressions of pride and quiet panic. Your mom had cried. Twice. You had waved them off with a forced smile and a whispered “I got this.”

You did not, in fact, got this.

Still, you’d made it to your dorm building, climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor, and found your room—room 308—exactly where the welcome email said it would be.

What you didn’t expect was that it would already be half-occupied.

The door was slightly ajar. There was music playing faintly inside—some soft instrumental playlist with no lyrics. Your heart stuttered as you stepped forward and knocked.

“Hey, sorry,” you called out. “Is this room 308?”

The music lowered. A voice answered—muffled, then clearer as the door swung open.

“Yeah—wait—uh…” The guy blinked at you from the doorway, confusion written all over his face. “Are you… Y/N L/N?”

You blinked. “Yeah. And you are… definitely not my roommate.”

He let out a startled laugh. “Okay, weird. I was just about to say the same thing.”

You glanced over his shoulder into the room.

One side had already been claimed—sheets on the bed, a cluttered desk filled with tangled wires, small gadgets, and notebooks scribbled with handwriting too small to read. A backpack was slumped beside the bed, unzipped and overflowing with chargers. The other side? Completely untouched.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” you said slowly.

“Uh-huh. Pretty sure.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

He offered you a hand, looking somewhere between sheepish and awkwardly charming. You shook it out of politeness, your brow furrowed.

“There’s no way they’d assign me a guy as a roommate,” you muttered. “I requested Mia Carson weeks ago. Got the confirmation and everything.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, no, I was supposed to be with a guy named Raj. We texted over the summer. Unless you’re Raj?”

You shot him a flat look.

“Didn’t think so,” he mumbled, then stepped back. “Wanna come in? We can call the RA. Figure out what went wrong.”

You hesitated, then dragged your suitcase inside and dropped your duffel with a sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

Peter had already grabbed his phone and started typing. You took a seat on the edge of your assigned bed, surveying the disaster you’d walked into.

“I don’t mean to offend you,” you said after a beat, “but this feels like a disaster waiting to happen.”

Peter glanced up. “Why would I be offended? I feel the same way. I haven’t even told my Aunt May yet—she’ll probably sue someone.”

You snorted.

Five minutes and one very unhelpful phone call later, your shoulders slumped as you ended the call with the Housing Office.

Peter watched your expression carefully. “Bad news?”

“Apparently,” you said flatly, “there was a software glitch over the summer. They reassigned a bunch of people. Mia’s now living in Oak Hall across campus. They’re at full capacity, and it’s ‘too late to correct assignments at this time.’”

Peter winced. “Yikes.”

“I could try to get a transfer, but they said the waitlist is insane.” You looked at him. “Do you… wanna try and swap?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I could, but my old roommate already moved into someone else’s room. And I kinda need to stay close to the science building for my work-study.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. “Fantastic.”

“I swear,” Peter said quickly, “I’m not a total slob. I don’t party, I don’t bring random people over. I mostly just keep to myself.”

You raised a brow. “What do you actually do?”

He blinked. “Like, generally?”

“No,” you said dryly, “specifically. Why does your desk look like Tony Stark’s garage threw up on it?”

Peter laughed. “Okay, that’s fair. I… tinker. With tech. Robotics, circuitry. I’m in the engineering program.”

You glanced at the blinking device on his desk. “Does that thing… make toast or explode?”

“Both,” he said cheerfully. “Depending on the setting.”

You let out a reluctant laugh despite yourself.

Peter gave a shy grin. “Look, if it helps, we can come up with some rules? Like… roommate boundaries. Make it easier.”

You paused. “Rules?”

“Yeah. Like…” He grabbed a marker from his desk and tossed it toward the whiteboard hanging by the door. “Rule one: No panicking.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s for you, isn’t it?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

You stood, walked over to the board, and uncapped the marker.

“Fine,” you said, writing quickly. “Rule two: No shirtless lounging.”

Peter looked scandalized. “I wasn’t planning on shirtless lounging.”

“Good,” you said, underlining it. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He tried not to look smug as he added, “Rule three: Don’t touch the gadgets.”

“Rule four,” you shot back, “don’t wake me up before 8 a.m. unless there’s a fire. Or a spider. No—wait, even if it’s a spider, let it kill me.”

Peter snorted. “Duly noted.”

The room fell into a companionable silence as you both stared at the slowly growing rulebook on the wall. Something about it felt strangely comforting.

You finally turned and looked at him. “Alright, Peter Parker. Guess we’re stuck with each other.”

His smile softened. “Looks that way.”

You climbed onto your bed, sinking into the mattress, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally crash over you.

Peter, now back at his desk, muttered something under his breath as he fiddled with his tech again. Something sparked with a quiet zap.

You rolled your eyes. “Rule five: If you blow us up, I’m haunting you.”

He didn’t even look up. “Deal.”

You didn’t know it yet, but move-in day was the beginning of everything. Of chaos and late-night arguments and shared secrets and a love story written in mismatched bedsheets and midnight snacks.

And as far as college disasters went, this one… might actually be kind of perfect.

-to be continued

[goodlucktai]

13 with sunset duo :)))

dialogue prompts

13. “I would believe that you’re fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so.”

x

Raph probably would have been successful in sneaking to his room if Mikey hadn’t decided to swing by the kitchen for a snack refill. When he flicks the light on, his biggest brother freezes mid-step cartoonishly and they both just stare at each other, one caught, the other confused. 

“Uh, hi,” Mikey says. “Is your Goon Gala with Casey over already?”

It’s what the former Foot recruit calls it when she and Raph get together to be rowdy and reckless and somewhat violent but like recreationally. Full throttle vigilantism. Mikey tagged along once and was so exhausted by the end of the night he had to be carried home—allegedly!!

The twins quietly disapprove, but they haven’t ratted Raph out to pops yet. They probably think the same thing Mikey does; that it’s good that Raph has something that’s his. It would be better if it was something safer, shared with someone slightly less likely to commit felonies for fun, but it’s a start. 

“Uh, yep,” Raph says awkwardly, standing kind of sideways. “Raph’s actually pretty wiped, I was gonna—”

Mikey’s eye for color pings. That’s the only explanation for why his subconscious was like hey something’s wrong about this picture and his gaze flicks down to follow the thought. 

It lands on the hilt of a knife sticking out of the thigh Raph is trying to keep out of view. Deep red drips down his knee.

Mikey drops the empty popcorn bowl, stray unpopped kernels scattering across the floor. 

“Hey, hey, no, it’s okay,” his brother says quickly, heading off the very loud reaction he can sense building up between them like an active geyser. “Shh, Mike, come on. I’m fine.”

It would work a lot better if one of the two hands he held up to shush him wasn’t bloody. Mikey’s panic wracked up another three levels automatically. 

“I would believe that you’re fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so–”

“Language,” Raph scolds by rote.

“Don’t language me!!” Mikey says shrilly. “What happened? No, don’t answer that. I know what happened, you got stabbed. You should be in the infirmary already! You go, and I’ll get—”

“No!” Mikey is grabbed by the shoulders, actually lifted off the floor so he and his brother are eye-to-eye the way Raphie has a bad habit of doing when tensions are high as Raph goes on, “Leo doesn’t need to know. I’ll take care of it.”

Mikey blinks, processing that. It takes a minute, because it might be the stupidest thing this particular brother has ever said directly to his face. And then he scowls. 

When he bellows, “LEO!” it’s in that particular baby brother voice that gets every older sibling in a mile radius moving with gusto. If Donnie weren’t at April’s for the night he would have removed the kitchen wall to get there two seconds faster. 

As it is, Leo tumbles into the room wild-eyed, probably wondering what the hell could have happened in the three minutes between Mikey asking him to pause the movie and this targeted attack on every protective instinct in Leo’s body. 

It takes him a second to clock that Mikey is present and correct and just sort of dangling in Raph’s hands still. Then he leans against the doorframe, playing it cool. What a nerd. 

“Guess this is where the party’s at,” he says, doing that thing where he manages to look at Raph without looking at him. “So what’s the cover fee? Any live music?” 

He probably would have kept going, but he’s processing the scene with sharp eyes, and that’s about when he connects the blood on Raph’s hand to the blood on his leg. Every single ounce of disingenuous charm and cheer evaporates from him instantly. His smile drops like a ton of bricks. 

“What the fuck, Raph?” Leo says in a tone Mikey doesn’t know if he’s ever heard from him before. “Is that a knife? Casey let you get fucking stabbed?”

He moves while he’s talking, so fast that Mikey isn’t a hundred percent sure he didn’t actually teleport. He has the daisy-printed dish towel formerly hanging on the oven door in his hands and he’s kneeling at Raph’s side, wrapping it around his thigh and pressing down hard. 

“Jesus, language,” Raph says, lowering Mikey to the ground before taking a resigned seat in one of the kitchen chairs. “Casey didn’t let me do anything. I’m fine, I’m handling it. You should see the other guy.” 

“You’re—you’re handling it,” Leo parrots blankly, as if those words in that order don’t make any sense to him at all. “I should see the other guy. Is this a joke to you?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” Raphael’s annoyance makes sense, since Leo has adamantly refused to take anything seriously since he was given the leader badge to wear. If Leo slacked off before, he is pointedly doing the absolute bare minimum now. 

He’s obviously trying to prove something to someone. Donnie just sighs when Mikey brings it up which means that he’s right but also that Donald isn’t going to break the disaster twins’ honor code by admitting out loud that he’s right. 

“This isn’t about missing training,” Leo grits out, really, properly angry. “This is about you sneaking around with a knife sticking out of your leg and scaring Angie and letting me find out by accident instead of—I dunno—calling the second it happened? Were you just going to go yank this out of your leg in the shower and put a bandaid on it?”

Raphie is in pain, and his temper has been poked, so he replies, “For the past month you’ve been acting like nothing matters to you anymore! You’ve wanted nothing to do with me, you don’t want my advice, you don’t want my job—the job that’s always been mine, that pops took from me and just handed to you. So where’s the line drawn? For all I knew, you wouldn’t want to help with this, either.”

If Raph had slapped him, the look on Leo’s face probably would have been exactly the same as it is right now. He’s kneeling there on the floor and there’s blood staining his fingers and the big brother he adores so much is telling him right to his face that he thought Leo would have rather just let him bleed than help. And Leo let him think it this whole time, all because he had a point to prove.

Mikey folds his arms tight, tucking his hands away so no one sees if they start shaking. There’s a saying April quoted last week when she was working on a paper for her Introduction to Literary Journalism class, can’t see the forest for the trees. Mikey didn’t get it then, but it makes an unfortunate amount of sense now.

He knows better than anybody how much his brothers love each other. He doesn’t understand how they could be so blind to what’s right in front of them. 

Raph is the kindest person in Mikey’s whole life and can always tell when a hit has landed too close to heart. Some of the anger coiled up inside him like an animal has no choice but to relax its jaw. 

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head,” he admits. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

“I want you to stop,” Leo says. It’s not a shout, but it’s loud, bouncing off all the polished surfaces until it fills the whole room. “Stop believing in me. Stop acting like I could ever be half the leader you were. Stop—stop getting hurt and acting like it doesn’t matter. What would we do without you?” 

What will I do without you, he doesn’t say, when you’re not there for me to follow anymore?

Raph’s eyes are huge in his face, and he lifts his hands in an automatic response to a little brother hurting within arms reach, but Leo ties the dish towel and steps back. He’s doing the not-looking-while-looking trick again. 

“Bleeding’s slowed. Let’s get you to the infirmary, big guy. Angie, Dad and Dee aren’t home so I may need your hands, okay?”

Leo always trusts Mikey to be able to help. It makes him feel three feet taller. 

“You got it!” he says, hoping one of them remembers to clean up the kitchen before Splinter gets home and wanders into a crime scene. 

When he heaves himself off the chair, Raph staggers a bit. Both his little brothers flock to either side of him instantly, and he says, “Raph’s just a little dizzy, that’s all. Let me lean on you guys for a bit.”

“Of course, Raphie,” Mikey says, willing to carry him if that’s what it takes. 

“We gotcha,” Leo adds, every other thing he must be feeling back to being a well-kept secret behind every layer of armor he owns. 

Raph puts his arms around them both and holds them close for the walk down the hall. He said he was dizzy, but his steps are steady. Everything about him is as steady as it’s always been. Mikey thinks he’s pretty good at sniffing out a scheme, but if he points out that Raph was only angling for a hug, then Leo’s going to run away like a feral cat who can’t tell the difference between affection and an attack.  

So Mikey doesn’t say anything, and squeezes closer beneath the arm Raph has around him—smiling to himself when Leo squeezes closer, too.

[steddieficrec]

Very Long Fic Recs

(almost as long as Eddie's tongue)

however wild by Ayes, itskleo

(10/10 I 102,215 I Explicit)

Prince Steve has always been told to stay out of the forest. And he does… when he’s awake.

Keep it Steady, Eddie by outofmygourd

(16/16 I 104,812 I Explicit)

Eddie Munson doesn't mind working at the Family Video Store. It's a nice sense of normalcy (not to mention money) and he gets to see Robin more because of it. However, between working together and sharing the same best friend, he's also been seeing a lot more of Steve Harrington.

He wants nothing more than to enjoy mindless fun with his friends now that everything with Vecna is over, but Eddie's finding it hard to move on from what happened. Even if the strangest thing in his life right now was simply the fact he and Steve Harrington might actually be friends.

(if someone asked me at the end) i'd tell them put me back in by Library_of_Gage

(40/40 I 110,024 I Explicit)

Steve is a modern boy dealing with modern problems: existential dread, anger at a world he can't fix, and the inescapable feeling that he'll never be able to name what's missing from his life. And then his parents buy him a house, an alternate dimension in desperate need of help yeets him to the 80s to fix things, and he falls in love with a maybe-murderer-but-not-really metalhead along the way.

Bad Omens by Lihhelsing

(15/15 I 110,320 I Explicit)

In the 80s, Eddie Munson and Corroded Coffin rose to fame under H&H Records management. With two successful albums, the band started their second national tour in 1989 and seemed to be on the path to becoming one of the greatest metal bands of all time. But something went wrong somewhere, and the tour was cut short when Corroded Coffin announced an unexpected hiatus.

No one knows exactly what happened, and the members of the band were radio silent. Until now.

After almost 8 years, Corroded Coffin is back and things seem to be good, or so Eddie Munson hopes, because between making music again and hitting the road knowing very well how the tour life was partially responsible for his breakdown in 1989, he needs things to be good.

And as if things weren't complicated enough, Eddie seemed to think it would be a good idea to invite his ex-boyfriend -and the love of his life– to tour with them, now that child star and famous pop singer Steve Harrington wanted to broaden his musical horizons.

It's like Eddie Munson is asking for something to go wrong as he tries to balance his new tour, his rocky relationship with his ex and the fact that all his past secrets don't seem to want to stay hidden.

Sing if You're Glad to be Gay by VTHX (V_Haley)

(25/25 I 120,520 I Explicit)

Months before Will Byers disappears, Steve Harrington is outed, bullied, and shunned. Eddie would be overjoyed to find another gay kid in Hawkins if it wasn't THAT gay kid.

you remind me of someone (it's probably you) by katdeerly

(15/15 I 136,736 I Mature)

‘I'm sure I'll see you soon no matter what.’

Steve startles. ‘What? Why?’

‘You're marrying my sister, aren't you?’ There's something guarded, almost teasing in Eddie’s tone and when their eyes meet, Steve can’t read the truth. It might be disappointment; it might be hope.

‘Oh, no, no, I'm not – not her fiancé. That was a misunderstanding.’

Take the Money and Run by thisapplepielife

(22/22 I 143,931 I Explicit)

“Rules. Like, there’ll be no eating in my car. You’re not driving my car. No heavy metal,” Steve keeps listing, “you’re not picking up women and fucking them in m-”

“I'll try to control myself,” Eddie interrupts with a quip, a smirk. Fucking girls in Steve’s car, or anywhere else for that matter, isn’t going to be an issue, unless something pretty fundamental shifts in him.

Steve continues, completely ignoring Eddie, “You’ll wipe your feet. You’re not dragging dirt all over my car. No hitchhikers. No cutesy road games. No smoking in the car. I’m not paying for all the gas.”

“Ass, gas or grass, got it,” Eddie says, like he's taking this very seriously. He is not taking this seriously.

Or: Road trip!

Money, Power, Glory by StrangerThings1975

(26/26 I 292,494 I Explicit)

Steve starts paying Eddie for sex once he discovers that Eddie doesn't just deal drugs and perform at the Hideout.

(Steve doesn't mean to fall in love with him, but he can’t help himself.)

[your-unfriendlyghost]

I dunno when you're gonna see this but take your time. I just wanted to know your opinion on the musical and if you had to pick a favorite NEW character, who would it be?

Ohhh lord. I’m preemptively sorry for all this. 

  So I haven’t seen the musical, and honestly I don’t plan to. I’m not much of a musical person in general. There’s definitely a place for them, but yk, I’m just not that into theatrical, over the top, song-filled ways of tellin stories…I may be in the school play now, but I’m a movie guy not a theater kid 🥲

  Aside from that (probably small-minded) preference, according to what I’ve picked up from y’all, the musical apparently has done a lotta things with the plot/characters that I’m just not into. I guess I just am not a big fan of the musical’s changes. I understand that it's a different medium, and lets be real I know nothing about musicals, so I’m sure the changes make sense in context, but I dunno…it just feels so different to me, enough so that I’m just not interested in it. Plus I’ve tried listening to the music n I just don’t vibe w/ most of it. 

  >>BUT I did hear the Little Brother song (Daryl Tofa cover I think) tho and that one went pretty damn hard ngl. I do not like the Johnny/Dally lil brother thing, but BOY that song was AMAZING. Really dug it. Very emotional, in a way where I could really feel it. That doesn’t happen to me very often lol.

  Idk tho aside from that I tend to refrain from commenting on the musical because I don’t have a lotta good to say about it, and I just don’t feel like it’s necessary for me to talk about something a bunch of folks like if I’m just gonna be bitchy lol. (Which is why I’m gonna tag this post very minimally lol 😭) Gah idk. Steve Randle and Randy Adderson deserved better. 

More bitchin under the cut, because I have some very silly nitpicks that I know aren’t a big deal, but I keep seeing these things around and they irritate me personally. For stupid personal reasons. It’s totally ok to dig these things/characters I’m just a hater at heart lol. So yk don’t hit the read more if ya don’t wanna see me bein a whiny, petty jerk abt things ya probably like 😭😭

  BEFORE that tho, some things I do like about the musical:

-Marcia looks perfect, no notes. Musical Marcia rocks

-Musical Cherry is also cool, n I dig her fit

-Daryl Tofa seems awesome. I like his Two-Bit, I like his Dally, I like him. I know next to nothing about him, but he was a fantastic casting choice imo. Two-Bit is still Emilio Estevez to me, but Daryl Tofa’s Two-Bit is pretty much perfect too

-Johnny’s fit is cool

-I like that the cast seems to like Marbit :)) 

-The way the cast posts things/interacts w/ the fandom is very endearing :)) I may not give a damn abt any of them really, but it’s fun seein’ y’all freak out abt it. Feels like watching a party from the sidelines in a good way- like I may not understand, but it’s charming and fun to see y’all happy ‘bout it 

-Soda’s actor quoted the “People who stay and people who leave” thing, so I don’t even care much that he’s not how I picture Soda- like he clearly gets Soda n that’s pretty cool

Ok time for the whining

-“Chet” is the name my folks used to say they were naming me before I was born, because they thought it was an awful name and they thought it was funny seeing folks’ reactions. So I’m pretty primed to dislike him by name alone.

-Chet/Soda annoys me, Soda has Steve he doesn’t need some Soc jerk. Y’all have Parry for ur homoerotic Soc x greaser stuff, don’t kill Stevepop man

-Cherrycola is just Marbit but blander 😭

-I also am not fond of cutting Randy?? Like why tf did they cut Randy Adderson?? I liked him a lot in the book/movie, and he really added a lot to the plot in my opinion…But idk, whatever…

-“Trip”- shut up, just LET HIM BE RANDY, HOLY HELL! he could be played COMPLETELY THE SAME just CALL HIM RANDY and I’ll stop being mad about it :,)

-the Dally/Johnny little brother thing…it’s a take, but it’s the most boring take for their characters ever, and I just despise that view of Johnny. Idk if I were him I’d be so pissed, having a friend who’s just a year older than me callin’ me “little brother”. But that’s just me! I definitely see why folks dig it, it’s just not my thing.

-I am probably also personally resentful towards the musical because I couldn’t afford to see it this summer, which just felt very ironic considering the themes about class divide and all. Like great, y’all have fun spending a crap ton of money on a musical about greasers. I’ll spend mine on gas for my car. And food. Whatever. I was in NY this summer too, so Broadway Outsiders straight up haunted me. There were brochures for it in the hotel. We walked past the Jacobs Theater a bunch on the way to restaurants and stuff. The ad for it is in the background of all my selfies in Times Square… Aughhhh I’m bein such a bitch about it ik ik it’s so unfair and so stupidly petty for me to be so irritated about it. I know. I can’t help it. Sue me, I’m not a logical man.

-I do NOT care about Paul. But there’s more like…tension w/ Paul in the musical, so obviously everyone’s latched onto him + Darry. Fine. I just really really don’t care about him, and seeing something I don’t care about constantly is turning neutrality into disdain…which is again such a me problem n I needa just get over it lol. I won’t though. I wish I could.

-Not into the way Dally dies in the musical. It is cool, don’t get me wrong, I love me a good train, but something about the way he died in the book/movie felt more like Dally to me. Idk. There was more plausible deniability or something, like Dally could convince himself he was going down fighting instead of “giving up”. (Kinda crass ik but…so is Dally, man)

-The Socs annoy me. That is so hypocritical since one of my favorite characters is Steve Randle. I know it. I swear I do. But ughhhh I just don’t like hearing about them…I’m so sorry

-Soda shouldn’t be that buff man he really shouldn’t. Also feel like he should be prettier. Jason’s good looking, but not in a very “sensitive” way…TO ME! And that is ridiculously unfair of me lol. Idk Rob Lowe’s Soda is irreplaceable to me I think (I can’t help it he’s my gay awakening) (/J/J/J ISTG)

-I miss Steve’s vest man, it was so tuff. The way it’s cropped in the movie to meet the waistband of his jeans?? The way the collar’s popped?? The fit w/ the tank top underneath?? Genuinely the height of coolness to me. I had a denim vest before watching Outsiders, but after watching it I bought one in the same brand as Steve’s because the fit was so fire man (n it does fit better than my old one lol. IDK what it is abt Lee’s denim, but their jacket makes my shoulders + waist look so much better than my old jacket it’s great) tl;dr I miss Steve’s vest it was my fav Outsiders character

-I don’t r e a l l y care much about Ace…I mean she’s ok, and she does look very cool, but I just wish we were clearer on her…role in the gang, I guess? I dunno (maybe if she was Two’s lil sister it wouldn’t bug me? Like cos he canonically has a little sister?? Or if she was like…Sylvia or smth… but nah she occupies an entirely different role so idk how to feel abt that)

-I don’t like that Steve “travelled here w/ Dally”. Steve is SODA’S BEST FRIEND! THAT’S HIS WHOLE ROLE!

-They shoulda casted me. Look I may not like musicals but I can sing GREAT and it’s frankly appalling that there’s a modern Outsiders adaptation and I don’t get to be part of it. Smh. I’d be a great Steve. I coulda been Steve. Plus I’m Asian so yk. Diversity. (I’m a minor they could not and would not cast me lol this one’s a joke)

-I don’t love the Pony n Johnny as best friends take. I think they became close because of Windrixville, which is just another thing that adds to the tragedy of Johnny dying. That’s a nitpick tho again. It’s not that big a deal :,)

Augh so ik I needa just cope with all of this but y’know…you asked… :,)

Sorry again for all this lol 😭

[doesanyonehaveanygum]

I’ve minishfted probably a thousand times already, but I can only remember a select few that stood out to me. And in this post, I’ll talk about my most memorable shifts and what I did to get there. (If I remember them correctly.) 

Describing the shift to my WICKED DR

This one, I shifted to around a couple of months ago- maybe 3 or 4. I don’t think I did anything special to shift to this Dr rather than just deciding to take a break from shifting. I do remember looking at a couple of posts about the characters before I went to sleep, imagining myself there as well. Like I said, I wasn’t making a complete effort to shift to that place either. It had been a couple of weeks after I had watched the movie as well, so I was listening to the soundtrack pretty often. KEEP IN MIND, HOWEVER, that I was actively taking a break from shifting. I wasn’t making any attempts to shift, and I was passively reading over shifting content on Tumblr. So, no subliminals, no methods, nothing! I had decided to go to sleep after looking at the posts of the characters on Tumblr. 

HOW THE DR WAS

I remember waking up in a very mystical-looking world. It seemed very fantasy-like and vibrant. Like, my vision had some sort of filter in it. Things around me felt bubbly and whimsical. The moment I got up out of my bed, I walked over to my vanity and started brushing my hair. It felt like a natural action for me to be doing; like I always wake up and start brushing my hair. I wasn’t nervous or felt out of place either! It felt like this was my daily routine and that I was getting ready for another day of class. A couple of minutes into doing this routine, I started hearing music. Plenty of students outside of my door began singing a song, and all of them were doing the same dance. I remember standing up and doing the same choreography with them, except I was the main dancer in the front. I knew the words to the songs, and I knew the dance moves like the rest of them, but it felt natural. Breaking out into a choreograph first thing in the morning didn’t feel out of place because my DR self knew she belonged there. According to her, this happened daily, and that was just the rules of my DR. Nobody questioned it, nobody was out of step, out of tune, out of anything! It just felt natural! At some point during the choreography, I had begun singing with Elphaba, one of the main characters. I’m not sure if I was supposed to replace Glinda in this Dr, but I don’t remember seeing her around, so maybe I was her. It still felt surreal and completely natural for me!

WHAT I DID TO GET THERE

Like I mentioned earlier, I was taking a break from attempts at shifting. So, maybe I had subconsciously given myself more freedom to just shift whenever. I removed the pressure of shifting and just allowed my subconscious to do its job, resulting in me shifting just like I had planned. 

That’s all with my WICKED Shift! I don’t have a script for this, nor did I plan on going there. Lmk if you guys want more shifting stories and tips!

[iloveriddles]

Imaginal Disk Storyline + Lore.

Okay, this is all opinion and my theories.

From What I can tell, “Imaginal Disk” is about two people: our protagonist, True, and a sub-protagonist of sorts, Ghost.

True lives in a house away from town. All she can do in her house is watch TV and journal.

True hates herself, and has never felt loved, or really sees love anywhere. She is very depressed. She can’t bear to look at herself in the mirror, even. She hates the way she looks, as we see on the mirror from imaginaldisk.world in True’s room. Her face is all distorted and swirled if you click it.

She never sleeps because she “spends her days chasing clouds and counting sheep, waiting for the night to creep”.

She does this because in the field outside her house, during night, a mirror appears and in it she sees a person who looks like her. This is Ghost. I am not sure if this happens every single night, or just some, but True seems dedicated to talking to Ghost at any chance she can take.

Ghost sleeps every night well and wakes up to be in the field, opposite to True. At her side of the mirror, it’s daytime.

I know their names because of the journals in True’s bedroom, where the lyrics for Fear, Sex are handwritten with the name “Ghost” at the top, and the lyrics for Killing Time are written on the first page with with the name “True”.

Ghost, to True, is beautiful in every way. She’s pretty, she’s perfect. She is loved and happy, and True isn’t. Ghost is the “Angel on a satellite”, I am 99% sure. True, from speculation, lives vicariously in a way through Ghost. She wishes she could be Ghost, and it kills her. There’s even symbolism here with Ghost’s lover in the Death & Romance video being made of light and featureless. It’s like exactly what True wants, to “be pined for” as she says in Killing Time (“I don’t care if I don’t sleep // but someone better pine for me”), but she can’t imagine by whom because she has no love interest. She just wants faceless love. She wants to feel like she matters in some way, like she is worthy of time. “There’s always time for killing, but never time for me. It only takes a minute”, she sings in Killing Time.

It’s so sad =( she’s right, though. That’s how it feels. People have time to waste and do nothing, but not time to help their close ones when they’re in a low place. It’s neither party’s fault, but still “True”.

True’s room is also the same layout as Ghost’s, but opposite. I think they are maybe versions of themselves from parallel universes or something like that. There is also implication that they start seeing through each other’s eyes in intervals, and we see this a little at the end of the Death & Romance video when she touches the Disk. I think their brains are connected in some way.

As mentioned, True hates herself and is miserable. I think this is why she gets the Imaginal Disk. We know she watches TV, so she probably saw the ad “True Blue Interlude” which is between Killing Time and Image. Image is her getting diskinserted and going to The Doctor. In the advertisement, it seems to be singing to her. It even says her name, “True”. It’s advertised as being a next stage and phase, it’s like the perfect form of escaping for True. She doesn’t want to be herself, she wants to be ���Pure” and a “better her”. I also wonder if True Blue Interlude has hypnotic properties in canon, or anything like that. It’s interesting how this changes Image so much if you know the story. “I’m the best you’ve got, *true* or not?”

We are missing music videos so I am not certain about some stuff. They said on Instagram that they’re making one for Tunnel Vision, which I am 90% certain it will be another True song. True’s eyes do the weird blink thing in the Fear, Sex music video. Also, in “That’s My Floor” the camera zooms into her eyes and she LITERALLY has “Tunnel Vision”.

Also from the “That’s My Floor” music video, we know that after getting her disk True wears red like The Doctor instead of her blue, and starts assisting him in diskinserting. There is so much speculative stuff here right now. For example, I wonder if The Doctor is supposed to be True’s universe’s version of the glowing light guy that Ghost is with. I don’t know, but it changes the songs A LOT if you know that the lyrics are in character. Some songs are Ghost songs, and others are True songs.

In “That’s My Floor”’s music video she accidentally kills the people dancing with her indirectly because she gave them the disks (speculation) so she runs away. This lines up with “The Outskirts” from the website. It says to “walk down and atone for your sins”, also also that “the weight of your guilt should be slowing you down more than that”.

I think it’s about True’s guilt for all she’s done with the Imaginal Disk. When it zooms into her stomach camera? It shows what I think is the reality she actually wants. She wants to remove their disks; but she doesn’t. I also don’t know if Ghost is actually there, or if she’s hallucinating/imagining her to be.

“Love Is Everywhere”, is a Ghost song. She says to “look through the holes in the sky” to “find Love”. I also think Cry For Me might be a Ghost song, because she says “Think of Love and you’ll remember me”. I wonder if she’s going to be killed off or something. This would be foreshadowed by “DEATH and romance”. Maybe The solid light guy (whom I assume went into The Cocoon at The Outskirts) dies, so Ghost does too? Not sure. Speculation.

In Angel on a Satellite, a song I believe to be about Ghost, True sings “A thousand eyes turn to stone and monochrome // surprise, surprise // they turn to smile at the same time”

Followed by

“That’s why I don’t look up // That’s why I’m always dancing”

I think this is symbolism for her depression and inability to feel love.

The “eyes” can’t feel; they only watch. They symbolize people around her. They’re “stone” and “monochrome” because they are cold and reflective onto her, these represent people in her life that she can’t show her misery around. Like being depressed and having to hide it from your family, or friends that say “I’m always here to listen” but do not mean it in the slightest. She’s “always dancing” because she’s masking her loneliness and self-hate for those watching her.

True has never left love. We know she doesn’t truly. She sings about it multiple times. I think this part of She Looked Like Me! Is about Ghost

“Her hair lifted as she stood still

Right there in the light And she felt like a dream

I didn't know what to think

She looked like me

We stood mirrored 'til I leaned in And then you know what she did

She shot at me like an earthbound bullet

And then she wrapped her hands around my neck and I felt love

Just ordinary love

Let me hold you in my arms

Oh, love, that familiar old drug”

I don’t think Ghost literally strangled her, but instead it’s more poetic symbolism.

In Angel on a Satellite, True sings “I swear that through your eyes everything is brighter all the time // ‘cause when I see me through your eyes I love me, so don’t leave my side // you always see the sky, angel on a satellite”

Ghost “sees the sky” by seeing and feeling love. She literally “looks up”. She’s optimistic, True isn’t. She can’t look up.

Another little detail I’ve noticed is how in Love Is Everywhere, I presume Ghost sings “Look inside through the sky all around us” in the same melody that True sings “Angel on a satellite, glad you found us” in “Feeling Diskinserted?”

I think that the album will end with True going to the cocoon and becoming her ACTUAL “Purest self”. If you spell “Imaginal Disk” with a “c” instead of a “k” at the end, it’s literally a part of a pupa. The Imaginal disc turns into portions of a bug’s exoskeleton after it emerges from its metamorphosis. So, on a literal level, the real Imaginal disk that changes you was THE COCOON ALL ALONG. Maybe the Doctor is doing a shady internet scam trick where you change the URL by one letter and pass it off.

The detail here is so interesting. Even down to their names True is literally her True self. She can’t be anyone else. It’s reality. Ghost on the other hand is like the Ghost of everything True wants to be.

I also noticed: The Doctor’s laughter from Fear, Sex plays in the bridge of Cry For Me. I bet we will get a music video for it. I wonder what is happening with the Ghost and aliens storyline.

Anyways, I have so much to say about this. I have more even than this. We are missing music videos so I will be back. I also have to talk about the alien observation plot, but that needs more pondering.

[girlietips]

What to do when you can’t sleep 💤 🌌🌙

Hi cuties! It is currently 3am while I’m writing this because I just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep no matter what I did. This is pretty usual for me I am a chronic insomniac and even though I am medicated for it I still will wake up in the middle of the night and not be able to sleep. So here is what I do to make sure my day does not suck even when I only got a few hours of sleep.

First things first give yourself at least an hour without any lights or screen time.

You might still be able to fall back asleep but you got to give yourself the best chance so keep it dark get comfy and do breathing exercises.

If you need you can put on a meditation or breathing exercises video on YouTube those can help you focus rather than you doing it yourself.

If after that hour you are still not falling asleep you need to get out of your bed.

Your bed should be a place of rest so the only thing you should do is sleep in it. Sitting on your phone in your bed is going to create an unhealthy habit that is going to impact your sleep more.

The best thing I ever did for my sleep was making my bed a place I go to to sleep and only sleep

I like to start by realizing why I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes it’s insomnia. Sometimes it’s anxiety or stress. Sometimes it’s not feeling well (like physically sick)

If it’s anxiety or stress you can journal about it or if you are stressed because you have a big project you can even work on it some more or do some planning to make to make things easier. Or to ease your mind.

If you aren’t feeling well notice your symptoms and maybe take some medicine and try to feel better so you can go back to bed. If you are sick I recommend taking medicine then going back and trying to sleep again because that is the best thing for you.

Once you get up you need to understand that right now is probably the best you will feel the whole day.

You can only get more and more tired and you aren’t going to be able to go to sleep until your normal time (maybe a short five minute nap but anything longer you risk messing up your schedule more).

It’s not the most fun realization but it’s important

If you are like me and you just have insomnia or there is no real reason why you can’t sleep I recommend doing things that will make your day easier.

You are going to be exhausted for most the day probably so anything you can do right now while you feel okay is best.

You can clean your room. Write your to do list. I also love doing my laundry because I usually can get it done before I have to start my day. Anything that you can do that future (significantly more tired) you might need help with.

I also recommend waiting to drink caffeine until you would normally.

The reason for this is because if you wake up at 1am you do a couple things and you start to feel tired again you can still go to bed and get multiple hours of sleep before you have to wake up. But if you drink caffeine at 2am you basically have gotten rid of that chance.

Also because the crash would happen sooner in the day making you feel so much worse.

If you have nothing to do I recommend doing something calming with minimal blue light.

I like to listen to calming music and read. This can also help put you back into the mood of sleeping.

Blue light is the same as caffeine too much too early can make your chances of those extra hours extremely low.

Not sleeping is the literal worst thing to deal with on a regular basis. While my medications do help I still have sleepless nights pretty regularly. This is honestly the best thing you can do it sucks but it’s better to tough it out and be tired. Hopefully the next time you go to bed you’ll be so tired you fall asleep instantly. Also if you do struggle with insomnia regularly I recommend reaching out to your doctor because missing sleep is the worst thing for your health. As someone who had a whole year where I only slept a couple hours a week I know the full effects of sleep deprivation and it is not pretty. It might not be anything you are doing wrong it might be something only medication can fix and there is nothing wrong with that. I know that I will probably be on my sleeping meds my whole life but I’d rather take the pill than have another year like that one.

Xoxo rest well babes 💕