#sorry if i sound like a band kid

[why-do-i-even-need-a-username98]

where is the pit in StEx

i recently saw a video from the StEx Bochum account showing the view from the booth. i realized that like most stage musicals StEx probably has live music but i didn’t see the pit where i expected am i just blind or do they hide the musicians

now that I think about it idk where the pit is in the london production either

does anyone know anytimhing about this?

[bucephaly]

It's kinda shocking to me how few people seem to know how prevalent the 'my great grandmother was cherokee' myth is and how it's almost never actually true, especially when it comes with things like 'never signed up' or 'fell off the trail' or 'courthouse burned down destorying the documentation' etc etc.

People just don't even seem to know the history like.. when the Trail happened. My great great great grandfather was 2 years old during Removal in 1838, so peoples 'my great grandmother hid in the mountains!' is so clearly wrong. And we have rolls. From before and after removal, rolls done by cherokee nation and others by the government, rolls that were not stored in one random flammable courthouse. It's not difficult to find the actual evidence of ancestry.

And just.. there are lots of ways those family stories get started. It was a practice during the confederacy to claim cherokee ancestry to show one's family had 'deep roots in the south' that they were there before the cherokee were removed. Many people pretended to be cherokee and applied for the Guion-Miller payout just to try to steal money meant for cherokees - 2/3rds of the applicants were denied for having 0 proof of actual cherokee ancestry. [We even see lawyers advertising signing up for the Miller roll just to try to get free money.] And the myth even started in some families in the cherokee land lotteries, where the land stolen from us was raffled off, including the house and everything that was left behind when the cherokees were removed. We have seen people whose families just take these things stolen from the cherokee family and adopt them into their own family story, saying that they were cherokee themselves.

If you had some family story about being cherokee and you wanna have proof one way or the other, check out this Facebook group run by expert cherokee genealogists that do research for free. Just please read the rules fully and respect the researchers. They run thousands of people's ancestries a year and their average is only around 0.7% of lines they run actually end up having true cherokee ancestry.

[senseiwu]

Keep thinking about things for the au where Billy stays with the kents

One thing involves damian. I think it would be kinda funny if Jon and Billy pretend Billy is just some Random Ordinary Kid and not literally. Shazam. Not sure if Billy knows damian is robin or not.

Idk I think it's kinda funny imagining damian trying to talk in code about the league or their parents or other superhero things

Hm... if it's not known that shazam is actually a kid... that could add something else to it...

[celiaelise]

I've been watching "Jentry Chau vs. The Underworld"! I'm quite enjoying it! 🥰 Very cute and fun, especially as a Texan. The way they tackled the myth of the Alamo only four episodes in was kind of a power move lol.

I will say, it is WILD to me that it's only rated PG. There's literally a corpse in her house. There's body horror in almost every episode. Maybe I'm just out of touch, though? Maybe this is a normal amount of cartoon violence. But I think it's the combo of violence + horror + emotional impact that makes me feel like it's more serious.

The story does a really good job juggling intrigue, emotional stuff, humor, action, etc. ... while being well-paced and visually appealing! It's pretty impressive.

(Also wild to me that Michael's trying to join band 2 years into high school. And he can barely play! But I think they're supposed to be in kind of a smaller town, so maybe that's how things work there. We were trained for my high school band starting in sixth grade. Some people quit band for other hobbies, but nobody ever dropped in later!)

(Also they wouldn't have auditions in the middle of football season, if anything, they'd have them in the summer before classes even start, but, ahem. I'll just mind my business! 😅)

[sendmyresignation]

one of the things about where are your boys tonight i really appreciated and, to me, seemed like the most significant thrust of the book (but never garnered much attention, imo), was the focus on the business side of things and particularly the way the many bands never saw long term success or stability or the way a lot of very young people were taken advantage of even after making their labels and handlers metric butt-tones of money and this really culminated with the discussion about paramores record deal and the inherently coercive nature of making a 14 year old sign a record deal (not even really mentioning that record deal was 20 fucking years lmao) and yet i still see people argue she was an industry plant or whatever. sorry ig one of my fatal flaws is i give child stars the benefit of the doubt considering the fundamental exploitation necessary for that position to exist or whatever

[fuiru]

A 44 year old man goes to a K-Pop Concert

I promised you a report on the K-pop concert that I, a 44-year-old accountant, went to a couple of weeks ago with my wife and daughter in Toronto. So here it is.

The band we saw were Ateez. They're my daughter's favourite band and my wife's second favourite. I know most of my mutuals are similarly aged like me and may not be familiar with them so let me give you a brief primer on Ateez.

Imagine the most attractive eight men you can think of, just unfathomably beautiful specimens of aesthetic perfection, and make them sing songs that somehow combine the subjects of 'dancing like nobody is watching' with 'we live in a dystopian hellscape that we must all work together to overthrow'. Give them an ongoing music video story lore that literally nobody - not even the band themselves - understand, so that online discussion of their visual motifs looks more like the fevered rantings of a conspiracy theorist, complete with speculation about alternate realities and time being a Moebius strip. There is also a giant sand timer, for some reason.

That's Ateez. That's what you need to know.

Now, K-pop concerts are very different to the gigs I've been going to for the last 28 (!) years. There's no support act, for a start. Also the band perform for like, three hours, with breaks for costume changes and interpretive dance. Furthermore, hanging above everything is the constant looming threat of mandatory military service.

So this being my first such concert, I wasn't sure what to expect. What happened was difficult to explain, but I will try as I am already six paragraphs into this write-up and I'm too invested to stop now. Here goes:

In his Wicked + Divine comics series, Kieron Gillen places modern pop icons as deities, feeding upon and gaining strength from the worship of their fans at the altar of musical performance. I thought I understood that metaphor. I thought I understood it AS a metaphor. I was wrong, because that night Ateez WERE Gods with a capital G and we were their worshippers, a crowd emanating adoration (in the religious and non-religious senses), bestowing strength upon them and gaining their strength in return.

If that sounds weird, it probably is. But as pointed out above, I have lived over four decades and never yet experienced anything like the overwhelming passion of that crowd, the utter abandon with which they conveyed their love for the band.

"But Fuiru, what of the actual music?" you ask. Thinking back, there was a moment in one of their songs - I can't remember which - where I watched the stage, and the people around me, taking it in, and I thought, "Man, I just love Music". But that doesn't answer your question, sorry.

Ateez's music is bloody great. As a tiresome indie/rock/metal kid I'm resisting the urge to add the usual tiresome indie/rock/metal caveat of "...for pop music" because honestly that does it a disservice. They have some genuinely amazing songs. Halazia is an absolute fucking masterpiece that descends into furious hardcore breakbeat. Bouncy is a big, brash racket that somehow is also a perfect pop song. Utopia, Wonderland, and Guerrilla are similarly superb. The obligatory boy band slow number is represented by Dancing Like Butterfly Wings which will make you cry because you will forever associate it with your twelve year old daughter being pointed to and waved at by her favourite Ateez member (Seonghwa) because of her Seonghwa-branded lightstick.

That might just be me, though.

So in summary: being a 44 year old dad at his first K-pop concert rules and you should endeavour to partake in the experience if the opportunity arises.

Finally, for any Atiny reading this: my bias would be San or Seonghwa but my wife and daughter said they were taken so it’s Mingi. My concert outfit (designed and created by my offspring) reflects this.

[luveline]

can I request something where Spencer is already with and married to y/n and the rest of the team has never known about her and one day they find out he’s married when she meets the team for the first time coming to bring him lunch maybe and the team is just taken aback after all the teasing they used to do to him because y/n is just so beautiful and flirty and they weren’t expecting any of it? And Spencer is just like “yeah I did that 👀😌💅🏼”

thank you for requesting !! hope this is okay, fem!reader

“I have something I need to tell you.” 

Derek looks up from his desk with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t like the sounds of that.” 

“I know you’re going to blow it out of proportion,” Spencer says, adjusting the strap of his watch where it lays over his sweater sleeve. “So I think I should tell you about it before she gets here with my lunch.” 

Derek leans back in his chair and tosses the clipboard he’s ticking through into a pile of outgoings. “I’ll bite. ‘She’?”

Spencer holds his hands clasped in front of himself, looking cagey. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell the whole team, but it happened so quickly, and then I got it in my head that everyone would be mad at me or make fun of me and I didn’t want to deal with it so I didn’t tell you, and now it’s been a year and I kind of want to brag.” He ducks his head, scratches his neck, and refuses to meet Derek’s eye. “I wanted to tell you.” 

“Reid, man, what are you talking about?” Derek feels himself soften. “I’m not mad at you, pretty boy. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

“She’s over there,” Spencer says, pointing.

Derek follows his friend’s hand to you. You’re a lovely thing to look at because you’re smiling like you’ve never been happier, and you’re dressed in a simple, elegant sort of style that gives you a timeless feel, like you could’ve been in a romantic movie in the 50’s or just got back from walking the shiny streets of Paris. You aren’t his type at first glance, but you could be, the way you’re looking at him. 

“Derek Morgan,” you say as you approach, your little black purse slipping down your shoulder, “I can’t believe it’s you.” 

“You’ll have to forgive me, sweetheart, do I know you?” Derek asks. 

You give Spencer a loving, sorry look. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Sorry! I tried, but you know. I was nervous and I kind of chickened out when you got here.” 

You shift the white plastic bag you’re holding in two hands to the crook of one arm and beckon him into your side. “It’s fine,” you say, leaning upward to kiss his pale cheek, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I like introducing myself, you know that already.” You give him a last friendly pat before removing yourself, your hand just close enough to brush against his as you offer your name. “I’m Spencer’s wife,” you add. 

Derek laughs, the low first chuckle of disbelief. Spencer’s watching him carefully, and he thinks, oh, maybe she’s not kidding. “His wife.” 

“Yes,” you say, taking Spencer’s shoulder into your hand. You don’t seem to notice that he’s a good few inches taller than you. “And I’m so happy to meet you, you know? I’ve heard so much about you, about everyone! I realise we waited too long. S’gonna make sending you the registry pretty awkward.”

Spencer laughs. You look at him like he’s put the sun in the sky. 

“Sorry, I don’t think I understand.” 

You turn your hand to show Derek the gold wedding band on your marriage finger. “For a year, almost.” 

There’s just no way. 

Derek watches in quiet shock as Emily and Hotch descend the steps into the bullpen. “Hi,” Emily says, plainly confused. 

“Hi,” you say, deferring to Spencer with an encouraging glance.

Spencer puts his arm behind your shoulder, and Derek realises loverboy isn’t lying after all. The way he touches you is too familiar, speaking to a longstanding sort of love. His thumb immediately rubs gentle semi-circles into the fabric of your cardigan, circles you likely can’t even feel. “This is Y/N, she’s… my wife. We got married.” 

“And didn’t invite us,” Derek says. 

“You what?” Emily asks, head snapping to the side. 

Hotch is smiling at you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

“You knew?” Emily asks. 

“It altered his health insurance,” Hotch says nonchalantly, stepping forward to shake your hand. 

“I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Hotchner.” Your eyes are sparkling. Derek can understand why Spencer’s married you from that look alone; you look overjoyed to be here, and to be speaking to them. “And you too, Emily. I've heard amazing things about all of you.” 

“Wait a minute, when did this happen? Wha–” Emily shakes her head. “I feel like I’m on reality television.” 

You turn to Spencer again, your eyes following up his cheek, a caress of a gaze as you begin to tell the story, “Well, we met by accident by at Christmas market on Cassidy square trying to buy stamps for cards, so that was sort of our first date a year and two months ago, but we didn’t get married until February, so a year.” 

“You got married after two months?” Emily asks, saving Derek the breath but not the sentiment. 

You don’t so much as wince, nor does Spencer. “It might’ve been unfair to her for me to rush things, but it didn’t feel like rushing at the time,” Spencer says surely. 

Derek knows that Hotch would’ve mentioned you months ago if you were nefarious. You certainly don’t seem nefarious, melting under Spencer’s touching, your almost frantic excitement to be meeting them quelled to a softer happiness. 

“Do you have any photos?” Emily asks.

It’s Spencer who moves for his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He flicks it open and pulls a photo from the clear window, unfolding it to reveal a shiny six by four of the two of you outside of a courthouse. Your dress is white and silk, his tuxedo made to fit. You both look amazing, but better, you look so, so happy. 

“This is the weirdest prank ever,” Emily says. 

You lay your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” 

Spencer shuffles through a hundred shades of pink. Derek struggles to wrap his head around it, but he can’t wait to tell Penelope. 

[rafesangelita]

rafe cameron lactation kink + him dry humping🫣🫣

warnings: domestic!rafe, dad!rafe, husband!rafe, slight nipple play, titty sucking, dry humping, brief mention of being insecure

“why are you covering yourself?” rafe laughed, sitting up under the covers as you made your way to your shared bed. “baby fell asleep before i could nurse. now i’m all swollen..” you mumbled, wincing once you curled into rafe’s chest. “want me to get the pump?” he was about to get up but you stopped him, a sigh leaving your lips. “no, m’too tired for that right now.” you draped a leg over his waist, clinging to him so he couldn’t go anywhere. rafe hummed, rubbing a large hand down your backside. “jesus christ.” he looked down between the two of you.

your tits were practically spilling out of your nightgown, the swells of your breasts so plump and full, rafe couldn’t help but reach out and take one in his hand. you gasped softly, your eyes fluttering open as he ran his thumb across your nipple. “please be gentle, i’m so sensitive right now.” you laid on your back, allowing your husband to pull the neckline of your gown down. “shit, you look so good like this.” rafe ignored your words, grabbing you more firmly. biting your lip to keep quiet, your fingers wrapped around his wrist in a poor attempt to make him loosen his grip.

rafe rolled one of your sensitive buds between his fingers, his mouth falling open when a single drop of milk trickled down his hand. “rafe..” your hid your face in embarrassment, only for him to cup your chin to make you look up at him. you watched as he brought his hand up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the milky substance with a satisfied hum. “i understand why our baby always wants to be latched onto you,” he squeezed your nipple once more, “you taste so fucking good.” he hovered above you, sliding between your thighs. “is there milk packs in the freezer?” you eyed rafe.

“no. i was going to make some in the morning,” he nodded, lowering his head, “why?” just as you asked him, he muttered a ‘sorry, kid.’ before his lips wrapped around your perky bud. “oh!” you whimpered, running your nails across his buzzed head. your hips instinctively moved against his, both of you moaning in unison. “do you like this?” rafe swirled his tongue, the wet sound making you flustered. “mhmmm,” you hummed, eyebrows knitting in pleasure. you knew rafe loved your tits, but enough to drink from them? you felt dumb for feeling insecure in the first place.

“don’t want you to stop.” you arched into him, his erection sitting snuggly between your folds. the thin material both of your underwear did nothing to conceal you from the head of his cock rubbing against your clit. “oh, my god,” rafe was shamelessly grinding against you, both of you trying your hardest to keep your moans and groans at bay. a particular stroke of his hips had you yelping, his hand coming up to clamp over your mouth. “shhh, you don’t want to wake the baby up, now do you?” you shook your head, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

rafe couldn’t believe he didn’t do this sooner. he was already obsessed with everything about you, he didn’t think there was anything else to obsess over. but this? he coudn’t get enough of it. your were holding his head in place while you let out the prettiest little cries, his movements faltering as he cummed inside his boxers. not long after, your thighs trembled around his waist while you clenched around nothing, your orgasm ripping right through you. thankfully, rafe’s palm was helpful in muffling your scream of his name, his mouth pulling away from your tit with a pop.

rafe helped you come down from your high, the corner of his lips lifting in a teasing smirk as he slipped off your nightgown. “let’s do that again, except this time i’m gonna fuck you stupid while i have you like this.”

[ode2rin]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[wonderjanga]

Was wondering about for your post 'captain is a terrible dad' if junior somehow convinces the league through the power of misunderstanding that 'billy' is the newest actual baby of the family? Like maybe tim is talking to junior about his younger siblings(damian stabbing him or smth), and Junior tells him about Billy and since they never heard about him before they think marvel just had another baby? Even worse if you also include the au where people think Marvel and Adam are exes and they think Marvel got close to him again?

Ever since Tim learned about Marvel having a new kid, he’s been thinking about it nonstop. It’s been bugging him and he really wants to ask about it. The only problem? Every time he’s tried to approach Marvel to ask about it, something has question-blocked him.

Robin!Tim: “Marvel, can we talk?”

Marvel: “Sure, what’s up?” *smiles*

Robin!Tim: “Well-”

Marvel: *comm rings and he realizes it’s an emergency* “Sorry, I gotta go. We’ll talk later right?” *flies off*

Eventually, after a week of this, Tim finally got his chance in one of the watchtower’s kitchens.

Robin!Tim: “Marvel , can I ask you something?”

Marvel: “Sure, go ahead.” *stirring something in a bowl*

Tim had spent the past week practicing how the conversation would go, yet didn’t even think about how he would start it.

Robin!Tim: *just decides to rip off the band-aid* “Uh… Why do you keep having kids if you hate them?”

Marvel: *slowly stops stirring his bowl so he stop and stare incredulously*

Robin!Tim: “It’s- It’s the little things. Like the little looks of disgust when they say something a kid their age would say. Or like the blatant disregard you have for their safety. Or the threats of violence.”

Marvel: *puts the bowl down* “What-”

Robin!Tim: “Like isn’t it parenting 101 that you don’t tell your kid they should’ve been lobotomized??”

Marvel: *forgot he said that to Mary the other day* “Uh-”

Robin!Tim: “And then there’s the fact that if I asked, you wouldn’t even be able to tell me where even one of them are at this moment, would you? They could be kidnapped, or lost, or in some other deep shit and you wouldn’t even notice! I haven’t seen this level of negligence in anything other than my own parents, and they didn’t even notice their own child sneaking out at night to take pictures of Batman!”

Marvel: *sounds concerned* “You were neglected-”

Robin!Tim: *grabs a nearby stool, hops on, then stands on his tippy toes so he can look Marvel straight in the face* “And don’t get me started on Black Adam! Why in the world would you even want to get back with him??”

Marvel: *sounds horrified because that inplies they were together at some point* “Who told you that?”

Robin!Tim: “What do you mean who told me that?? It’s obvious to literally everyone!”

Marvel: *looks around as if looking for hidden cameras* “Is it though-”

Robin!Tim: “YES! It is. What on earth could you possibly see in him? There are literally multiple videos of him throwing both you and your kids through buildings.”

Marvel: *goes back to looking for the hidden cameras*

Robin!Tim: *continues his rant* “And then you decided to do the worse possible thing you could do in this situation which was bring in another kid?? What is wrong with you???”

Marvel: *a little speechless but finally gets something out without being cut off for the 50 millionth time* “What do you mean bring in another kid?”

Robin!Tim: “Billy!”

Marvel: “Billy??” *sounds more confused now*

Robin!Tim: “The baby!”

Marvel: “Wha…? Billy isn’t the baby, Darla is??”

Robin!Tim: “Who is Darla???”

Marvel: *realizes he said her actual name* “The purple one.”

Robin!Tim: “She has a name??” *just completely confused now* “Then who’s Billy??”

Marvel: “He’s just some kid that doesn’t have powers.”

Robin!Tim: “He’s not one of your kids…?”

Marvel: “No? I don’t have kids?”

Robin!Tim: “Then how are you related to Junior and Mary and all the other kids??”

Marvel: “We’re siblings? They have a mom and a dad, Robin.”

Robin!Tim: *pauses* “That still doesn’t excuse the fact that you let a bunch of preteens run around fighting crime on their own, unsupervised. Also why are you so much older than them if you’re siblings?”

Solomon: “Say they’re several thousands of years old.”

Marvel: “They’re all several thousands of years old. They’re not idiots. They can fight on their own. As for me? I’m several tens of thousands of years old.”

Robin!Tim: *dumbfounded*

Marvel: “Now what was this about being neglected by your parents?”

Marvel then proceeded to get Tim to trauma dump about his parents, about his vigilante life, and about everything else.

Robin!Tim: “I just can’t believe they didn’t notice!”

Marvel: “That’s terrible.” *hands him the bowl from earlier*

Robin!Tim: “I know!” *absent-minded, stirring of bowl*

By the way, I almost finished this and then lost all the progress so I had to redo all of this. If I hadn’t lost all the progress, it would’ve came out yesterday night. So unfortunately, you’re stuck with the shittier version of this post as I continue to ride off the waves of anger that I still feel boiling inside of me. Rewriting this post made me almost crash out at 12:35 in the morning.

[demonic0angel]

DP x DC Prompt: Sam Manson decides Stephanie Brown is hot, and decides to court her like the over dramatic goth girl she is. Danny and Tucker are all too happy to help.

Part 2

"I have an idea!" Tucker said.

Danny had his chin on his hands, balancing a pencil on his nose. Sam had her hands down on the table, where an elaborately made plan on a blueprint was. The entire table looked messy with pens and sticky notes scattered throughout.

"Alright, lay it on me," she said in a severe tone.

"Okay, so girls like—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Sam said, sounding exhausted.

Tucker huffed, "Well, then I got nothing."

Danny put down the pencil and said, "Maybe we should hear him out. What if he has a good idea?"

Sam gave him a look. Danny paused and then conceded. "Yeah, never mind."

"Wow! Wow. This is what I get for helping." Tucker threw his hands up in the air.

Sam sighed. "How am I going to get her to agree on a date? Should I write her another poem?"

Danny snorted. "Are you kidding? Y'know that saying? If a man— or I guess in your case, 'a woman writes you a poem, then she loves you. If she writes you a 100 poems, then she loves poems.'"

"Dammit!!" Sam cried out.

"Well, it can't be too hard to ask her out, right?" Tucker said, scratching his head. "Honestly, I didn't think you'd ever have a crush on someone like her."

Sam groaned. "She's only smart, sweet, badass, and hot. I don't even care that she's a band kid. How am I going to ask her out?!"

"Just ask her out. She's not that scary," Danny said.

Sam glared at him. "Oh! So I'll just go up to her and say, 'Hey, Stephanie! We've only talked to each other like, twice in our lives! But I think the way you punched Dash in the face was super hot! Date me?' Huh?!"

Tucker and Danny both grimaced at her. "Dude," Tucker said, "we've got nothing else. At this rate, you'll never ask her out in our lifetime."

Sam put her head in her hands. "Ugh... sorry, guys. She just makes me nervous. She's so cute."

Danny patted her shoulder. "Relatable."

Tucker patted her other shoulder. "Yeah. Y'know what? Let's ask Jazz for some relationship psychology and then we can use it to make Steph fall in love with you."

"Ooh! Manipulation tactics! My fav!" Danny clapped. "It's our best bet with your gay disaster."

".... I hate you both so much."

[lewisvinga]

thank you, nurse ! | lando norris x nursing student! reader

summary; everyone thought it was strange yn never made it to races until it’s finally revealed why

fc; belajuliana_

note; as a future nursing student, i needed this

nclex is the exam you take after finishing the nursing program to become a registered nurse !!!!

masterlist !

liked by landonorris, bsfusername, and 120,038 others!

yourusername: post-night clinicals, at least it was w bsfusername !

bsfusername: we better get on our professors good side after doing night clinicals 3 weeks in a row😒😒

yourusername: night clinicals are a vibe

bsfusername: they really are especially with a mcdonald’s iced coffee

yourusername: ‘murica 🦅🦅

username: omg

username: SHES A NURSING STUDENT

username: so pretty omg

landonorris: nurse help!! i’m hurt, i think you need to check it out 😏😉

yourusername: i’m not registered yet sorry😕😕😕

landonorris: babe, pls play along 💔💔

yourusername: SORRY BABE, i can heal u quickly 😉

username: she’s pretty, smart, and helps people in need , she really got y’all

username: clinicals are NO joke, no wonder she couldn’t make it to any races

liked by username, username, and 349,937 others!

f1wags: Lando Norris and his girlfriend, Y/n L/n, were spotted at dinner just 2 days before the Silverstein Grand Prix!

username: the way she looks at him🥹🥹

username: everyone doubting her love for him when she smiles at him like THAT

username: he deserves better

username: like you?? LMFAOO

username: they’re so cute what

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,748,927 others!

landonorris: P2 and a 🏆 at my home race !!!!!!!! ❤️you guys are crazyyyyyyyyy 💙 extra thank you to my favorite nurse for nursing me back to health 💓💓

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: do not be fooled everyone, it was just a cut which i healed with a hello kitty band aid!

landonorris: like i said, thank you, nurse !

yourusername: so so so so proud of u🥹🥹

liked by landonorris !

username: lando p2 is everything

username: LANDO PODIUM AT HIS HOME RACE!!

mclaren: 🧡

username: he fr loves her

username: ‘my favorite nurse’ ME AND WHO😫😫

username: the clip of her in mclaren’s garage🥹

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 394,038 others!

yourusername: p2 for my love 🧡🧡 so unbelievably proud of you! here’s to many more podiums! i love you so much🧡🧡

tagged; landonorris

landonorris: AWHHH

landonorris: i love you so much , thank you for being my lucky charm and for nursing me back to health w my paper cut🧡🧡🧡💓💓💓

yourusername: i’ll nurse you back to health anytime 💗💗

oscarpiastri: don’t let lando fool you he squealed

yourusername: when doesn’t he squeal

username: omg they’re so cute

username: laying on the highway tonight

username: i want to know what manifestations yn did bc they’re ADORABLE

yourusername posted to their story !

liked by yourusername, bsfusername, and 1,203,938 others!

landonorris: guess who is dating an official!! registered pediatric nurse!!!! congratulations on passing the nclex my love. so proud of you for making it through nursing school. i love you so much, Y/n L/n R.N.

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: couldn’t have done it w/o our facetime sessions 🥹🥹

landonorris: making sure you study hard, R.N!!

yourusername: R.N. does sound nice 😌

yourusername: i love love love love you!!!!

landonorris: and i love love love love love you!!!

yourusername: happy to nurse my favorite driver back to health any day

landonorris: searching up on how to purposely get sick 🧐🧐🧐🧐

username: OMGOMGOMG

username: she was busy in nursing school that’s why she couldn’t visit 😫😫

username: she helps KIDS you can’t hate her 😫

username: idk if i want him or her

oscarpiastri: congrats!!! now can you visit lando more often so i don’t have to hear him whining all the time!!!

yourusername: i’ll try😌

landonorris: i don’t whine that much !!

carlossainz55: enhorabuena! [congratulations]

yourusername: gracias ❤️🧡 [thank you]

username: lando’s girlfriend being a nurse is everything

username: lando won the lottery omggg

[dooberific]

Damn that angst Harumasa oneshot was smth else 😭

Could you perhaps write an alternative happy ending? 💔

❝ 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 ➸ 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: hurt w comfort, fluff, you lived bitch 😎

summary: it was supposed to be a routine mission, it's a good thing you are there to help pickup the pieces

wc: 3.2k

this is a hybrid work, the start of new content will be marked with colored text!

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

He hoped you were the sentimental kind, your voice warbled over the line from the outpost in his ear as he smiled. “I’m just saying to be careful is all.” He asserted, fingers running aimlessly over the silver band resting in his palm. Your initials and his were cut into the inside. 

It was supposed to be your day off, the first you had taken in several months, but when H.A.N.D phoned you that they needed your section of the HSO to assemble for a rescue mission after a Defense Force team had vanished inside of Hollow Zero, well….you didn’t get the luxury of saying no, even if you were the Chief. 

“When am I not careful? Remember which one of us you’re talking to here, Haru.” You chided, the smile on your face so present he could hear it change the lilt of your voice. 

“Right, right, I’m talking to my beautiful, kind, intelligent and all around perfect girlfriend~” Though he hoped that title would be changing very soon, as he held the ring up to the light, the sun filtering through the window of your shared apartment dancing enticingly over its surface. 

You giggled in his ear, the sound warming him to the soul. He could practically see the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled in delight.  “That’s much better.”

The interference in the background of the call amplified, faint callings of your name cutting through the static. You sounded disappointed. “Sorry Haru, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay baby, duty calls. Just try to be home for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss a date night for the world, you better not peek in the closet while I’m gone! I want that dress to be a pleasant surprise later.” 

You fell quiet again as you pulled the receiver away from your mouth, yelling a response into the background. “They’re about to have an aneurysm over here,” you huffed. 

“I love you, Haru~”

“I love you too, (y/n)~”

That was a little after noon. It was now nearing midnight and the outpost was crawling with H.A.N.D uniforms and HSO stragglers. Countless outpost scientists shouldered through the crowd, chiming off readings and acting as if they just had a some great scientific breakthrough.

But you were still inside of Hollow Zero.

And H.A.N.D was beginning to withdraw. 

Even flashing his Section 6 badge failed to get him answers despite his insistence, earning little more than the shake of a head and a “this is above your paygrade, kid.”

They threatened to court martial  him if he kept accosting them. But they didn’t have you inside the Hollow like he did. The epitome of his happiness, the one he swore hung the moon and stars, his most constant companion, and the only one he could imagine waking up beside of until the day he expired. 

They didn’t have you, but they had the version of you that made their actions palatable. The “good soldier” and “valiant leader”. The slave to a public that didn’t care to know your name even as you shouldered their burdens as ceaselessly as atlas held the heavens. The one who signed up for a death job.

A chorus of shouts erupted, the flash of the medical units blazing to life under the white spotlights. 

Survivors.

He shouldered his way through the swell of the crowd with little regard for those he pushed aside. In a perfect world he would break from the crowd and see you standing there, a little worse for wear but alive and smiling like you just cheated the world. You would push past the medic teams as they chased you down to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips as you gloated playfully.

“See? What’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” 

But you weren’t there. A cluster of five soldiers stumbled through the outer bounds of the Hollow—no, those weren’t soldiers, they were members of your faction carrying the torn uniforms of Defense Force operatives. They dripped with blood and grime, corruption marring their skin as they limped out, half-dragging others.

“Hey!” He yelled over the roar of the crowd as he grabbed one of them by the shoulder. His name badge shined under the lights. Kimura.

 “Where’s your chief?”

The man shoved his hand away, “Get off me man!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength as he grappled with Kimura before taking two fistfuls of his collar. “Where’s your fucking Chief? Where’s (y/n)?!” 

Multiple pairs of hands tore at his uniform from behind as they hauled him off, legs kicking as he wrestled against their pull.

“Where is she?”

“She’s stayed behind!” 

Kimura’s face was blank, his eyes distant and foggy as he stared at the ground. There were tears streaming down his face as he drew a ragged breath. “I’ve never seen so many ethereals, we were overran so quickly…Chief (l/n) and Deputy Chief Kato created a diversion to draw them away so we could get out.”

Kimura looked up with red rimmed eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Hollow Zero had mutated. Or that was the story they were telling everyone now. The sensors at the outpost had registered a dramatic spike in etheric energy about 30 minutes after Section 2 had infiltrated, and by the next 20 the bangboo that accompanied you had stumbled out with fried circuits, the carrot it followed now expired as the interior of the hollow rearranged. 

It was supposed to be a standard recovery operation. You had done them hundreds of times in the past.

“I’m sorry, Asaba. My hands are tied.” The officer said with a shake of his head. “No one’s allowed in unless they are operating with their faction. You’re the only one from Section 6 here.”

He gripped his bow tighter. “Then I suggest you turn around and pretend you didn’t see me.” 

~

It felt like an electric current thrummed under his skin as he breached the Hollow. He didn’t bother to call the proxy or wait for the association to form a new carrot. There was no point, even as desperately as he clung to the idea of you being unharmed, alive, there was still a rotten crawl of doubt in the back of his mind that made the thought of wandering forever as an ethereal within Hollow Zero a more palatable choice than leaving here without you. 

He didn’t know how long he had wandered through the hollow, hair matted to his forehead from sweat as he cleared another broken wall, trying to survey as much of the warped landscape as he could. He doubled over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had overextended himself already, his chest constricted tightly as his breathing became shallow, a sharp ringing in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on getting his lungs back under control.

In and out.

In and out.

There was a distant cry that met his ears with the sharp and hollow sound of clashing metal, one that twisted his gut in an iron grip as his head shot up.

You.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find when he fumbled over the rubble in your direction. Finding you was the sole focus of his mind for the past few hours, the rush of adrenaline carrying his mind past rational thought.

You. You. You.

It urged his tired legs forward, kept him standing as he rounded the corner and saw the torn back of your uniform jacket fluttering in the etheric breeze. 

You, despite all odds, were still alive.

A Hati screamed as your blade plunged between its armored plating, the etheric shell shattered at your feet as the creature collapsed alongside it, your body pivoting with deadly precision to bring your blade down upon the blazecrawler that leapt into your blindspot before an electrified arrow whistled past your face and knocked it from the sky, it’s body disintegrating before it even hit the ground.

“Haru?”

You looked utterly exhausted, your face smeared with grime and hair matted with sweat, but you’d never looked more alive and perfect than when the veins of acute ether corruption made the healthy pink of your cheeks and lips glow. 

“Haru, what are you doing here?” Your voice cracked, tongue fuzzy in your mouth from dehydration as you limped in his direction, tired eyes blazing with anger. “The ether is too strong, you shouldn’t be--,”

Any ounce of wrath or concern at his lack of prudence died on the tip of your tongue when he swept you up in his arms, face burrowed firmly into the column of your throat. His body trembled unnaturally against you, skin feverish. He clung to you like you were his lifeline, hands fisted into your torn jacket and hair as if he were afraid you would vanish at any moment if he loosened his hold even a fraction. 

His shoulders heaved once, twice before he pushed his face from your neck, hands cupping your dirty cheeks with his own dirt-caked nails. From this close you could see the ether burning under his skin, the fogginess that dimmed his brilliant golden eyes a matte honey as turquoise veins burst within the sclera and seeped into the pupil. His lashes were wet and caked together, face twisted in some hybrid of pain, anguish and relief as he kissed you like you put the very breath in his lungs to do so. Hungry and sloppy, more teeth and whispers of affection burning in millimeters of space seasoned with sweat, tears, and the sharp iron flavor of your split lip nipped and tugged with a tenderness that boiled in the depths of your belly as you cradled his own face in the state of desperation he rendered you in. 

A sharp stink pricked the skin just above his choker, his head snapping back with a hiss as the syringe in your hand clicked with completion. 

“Anti-ether serum,” You reassured, throwing the empty syringe off into the rubble before slipping another from your belt bag and sticking your forearm, lip pinched between your teeth. “Got lucky and found an old H.A.N.D cargo container. It’s old, but it works.”

You tossed it aside, offering him your hand with a smile.

“Let’s get outta here, Haru.”

~

It was a pure stroke of luck that you made it out of the hollow. No bangboo, no carrot, only the whim of walking in one direction and hoping the fissure you happened upon was the way out. The last recovery party stared at you like you had grown a spare head when you came stumbling over the rubble together, your face drawn tight with strain as you muscled the weight of Harumasa, the ether finally having worked him over to the point that his knees gave out and he couldn’t see, his consciousness spotty. How your own body had yet to give in was some blessing of genetics, the roots of corruption seeding deep and black as it began to pierce out through your skin. 

The wet kiss of the morning dew and the blazing of the rising sun warmed your skin despite the electrocharged sensation that left your hands trembling. You watched helplessly as the medical team swept him away from your side, your own strength finally giving out as you crumpled on the concrete before a flurry of hands hoisted you up and onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask forced over your nose. You watched as they shut the door of the ambulance across the way, a flash of dirty orange sneaker soles vanishing behind a thick metal plated door. 

You grabbed the medic nearest your side, his uniform collar bunching at his throat as you pointed and hissed.

“Make sure I’m there with him.”

~

If it was your own physical and mental exhaustion or a pharmacologically induced sleep, you weren’t sure, but the sterile ceiling of a hospital room expanded before your weary eyes like a blanket of snow, the rhythmic beeping of some monitor just out of sight keeping tune with your heartbeat. Your entire body felt stiff and tight, muscles screaming as your fingers twitched into a fist. You rolled your head to the side, staring at the empty bed a few feet away.

The nurses had to restrain you from how wildly you fought, ripping lines from your arms as you pushed yourself upright despite the lancing pain that seemed to ignite every nerve in your body, grappling with them as you demanded to know where he was, how he was, if he was even still alive as hot, angry tears stung at your dry eyes.

You didn’t stop fighting until the bed at your side was filled by a familiar body, albeit worse for wear. You were quite the pair, both looking like absolute shit as tired eyes and pained smiles passed between you. He had about ten more monitors and drips running than you did, his pale face gaunt and covered in a sheen of sweat. But his eyes were clear and dripping with adoration every time he woke up and saw your own scuffed face grinning back at him as if flaunting how you had cheated the world once more with a simple, “Good morning, sleeping beauty” easing past your lips. 

When he weakly reached his hand out to you, you weren’t about to refuse his invitation as you swung your legs out of bed and shuffled like your body had aged 80 years across the few feet that stood between your bed and his. You clasped his chilled fingers, pushing some of the many lines and wires that ran from his body to the side as you readjusted his arm, sliding up in the bed as you cuddled up against him. 

You felt his body relax, hand skimming your back through the thin gown you wore as you pressed your cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was strong under your ear, his lungs expanding and collapsing with a steady rhythm under your splayed fingers. 

“Haru? I don’t want you to dive into a hollow like that after me ever again.” you asserted.

“And I don’t want you going into hollows ever again, period.” Came his cool response, fingers drawing little circles along the curve of your spine. You felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head. “But we don’t always get what we want, so we’ll just have to trust each other to make the best decision, whether the other agrees with it or not.”

You didn’t want to admit that he was right, fearful still of his weakened constitution and the report you received on his care. 

He’s lucky to be alive.

It made you cling to him a little tighter, nestling closer to his side as your eyes screwed shut and you willed yourself to focus on the living, breathing and warm Harumasa and not the weak, confused and fearful one that gripped you with such ferocity even as his senses fled him in the bowels of Hollow Zero.

He played with your fingers for a moment before pressing something warm and circular against the meat of your palm, folding your fingers over it. Your eyes peeked open curiously, head lifting off his chest. 

“What’s this, Haru?” The question tumbled from your lips before you unfurled your fingers, staring at the item nestled in your palm before a harsh breath sucked past your lips.

It was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

“I had planned to give it to you somewhere a little more…sentimental than a hospital room, but I’m tired of waiting.” He cupped the back of your opened hand, thumb brushing against your knuckles. 

“I shouldn’t have waited in the first place.” He said with a rueful laugh. “You’re my person after all. Always giving the world your best, always thoughtful and selfless and so, so strong. You’ve never ran from your responsibilities, from yourself, toughing it out all on your own even when you had to shoulder my problems too.”

His thumb pressed over your pulse, his lungs stuttering for a moment as he caught his breath. “You’re everything I’m not. Every strength to my immeasurable weakness. My perfect reminder that the world is worth fighting to be in even when my body begs to give it up. It’s not much, but consider this me begging you to keep being the best half of my existence.”

You rolled the ring between your fingers, tracing the initials carved inside the band before peering up at him from under your lashes.

“In sickness and in health?”

He smiled feebly, his lips chapped and rough against the tender skin of your forehead where he pressed them, a promise whispered quietly into your flesh willed to be shared intimately and only with you.

“In sickness and in health.”

.

.

.

Your favorite coffee cup sat beside the pot in the kitchen, the rim stained pink from your choice lipstick. Your toothbrush sat in the cup beside his, your shampoo in the shower, your shoes by the door. Your picture was perched on the bedside table, your face radiant as your hand rested against his chest, his arm around your waist in front of the New Eridu Janus Quarter courthouse. 

Any more perfect and he would begin to question if soul mates were really determined at birth, given names that matched together like the pieces of a puzzle as beautifully as yours did when you assumed his surname and the title of the only family he ever truly had.

You still glowed, hair tousled and cheeks creased from sleep under the golden light of another morning. You sought out his warmth under the covers, flopping unceremoniously into his chest, your forehead pressed against his sternum as your weight relaxed into his body, sleepy murmurs of “good morning” tickling his skin. 

“What happened to, “good morning my handsome, perfect husband” hmm?” He mused as he threaded his fingers through your own, admiring the matched silver bands snuggly around your ring fingers. 

“ ‘S a mouthful,” You whined, lifting your head as you leaned in and nipped at his lower lip with a lazy, lopsided grin. 

Your eyes blew wide as he flipped you onto your back, trapping you beneath him on the mattress as he straddled your lap. “Well then my beautiful, perfect wife, we’ll just have to work something out then.”

There was a ring cut to your size, and it felt like a perfect adornment on your skin as he drew your hand up and pressed his lips against it with a grin. 

Rey 2025

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER CHAPTER TWELVE: sweet dreams, tn

masterlist

“So where’s your lover boy?” Panda asks, his voice cutting through the cacophony of laughter and music as he trails you through the crowded corridors, dodging the sea of bodies like a seasoned sailor.

Pit pit pit pit—the sound of eight pairs of feet creates a chaotic rhythm that echoes off the walls, blending with the chatter, screams from fangirls, and the distant sound of music. The air is thick with anticipation, a pre-show buzz that somehow amplifies your frustration.

You stop suddenly, squinting against the bright lights overhead, still disoriented in this maze of unfamiliar hallways. You were reread Megumi’s text for the hundredth time.

“It’s simple, just walk straight, take the second left, and then the first right.”

“Simple my ass,” you mutter, irritation creeping into your voice. You can feel the fabric of your outfit constricting slightly as your heart races—not just from the crowd, but from the thought of him, wherever he might be.

“Yn, do you even know where you’re going?” Nobara interjects, arms crossed and feet tapping impatiently. “I didn’t put on my red bottoms just to wander around like a lost kid in target.”

Her tone is playful, but there’s an edge of seriousness. You can picture her frustration—she's here to make an impression, and you can’t let her down. She mumbles something under her breath, probably a jab about you and megumi, which she blames on you ovulating. You roll your eyes, mentally flipping her off.

“Yn, maybe you should use your third eye to find him,” Panda suggests, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Third eye?” you ask, bewildered.

“Your vagina” he raises an eyebrow, teasingly dragging out the moment.

Maki snickers.

“Maki, why are you laughing? Shouldn’t you be helping?” Panda shoots back, exasperated, though his tone is more playful than annoyed.

Maki rolls her eyes but doesn’t miss a beat. She raises her fist, mock-threatening to punch Panda, but they both stumble back, narrowly avoiding a group of crew members wrestling with a mountain of band equipment. One of them shoots you a bemused glance, clearly accustomed to the chaotic energy that follows your group.

“Shit, sorry, everyone,” you murmur, barely looking up from your phone. Your thumbs fly over the screen, sending a heated text to that infuriatingly charming guitarist.

Your frustration simmers just below the surface, not just from his latest blunder but from the way your emotions twist like a tangled cord—half excitement, half anxiety.

You can’t help but think of how he always manages to distract you, his grin igniting a flutter in your chest. The irony of searching for him while being completely consumed by thoughts of him doesn’t escape you.

“Yn?” A voice echoes through the dimly lit corridor, pulling you from your thoughts.

You look up to find Megumi standing there, his expression softening as he meets your gaze.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice a gentle murmur, but he hears you easily.

The surrounding group begins to disperse, each member pairing off into their conversations—Maki and Yuta engaged about their next date, Panda and Toge animatedly debriefing about the latest talk gush episode, and Nobara mocking Yuji about his latest blunder on Twitter, laughter spilling out like a warm embrace.

“Sooo, how’s it going?” you ask slyly, trying to mask the sudden flutter of nerves that stir within you.

Why does this feel different tonight? You’ve shared countless moments, yet there’s an undeniable weight in the air that makes your heart race.

A smirk curls at the corners of Megumi’s lips, amusement dancing in his eyes. He finds your nervousness both cute and entertaining.

“You know my fans would kill you if they found out the mystery girl I’ve been seeing is at the show tonight.”

You arch an eyebrow, a playful glint in your gaze. Your fingers find their way to his chest, lightly tracing the fabric of his shirt before hovering near his lips, an invitation and a tease. His breath hitches, hanging in the air like an unspoken promise, thick with unacknowledged tension.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep it a secret then, huh?” you reply, leaning in slightly, enjoying the way his pulse quickens under your touch.

“Oi, come on, lovebirds! We perform in twenty!” a voice calls from behind you, interrupting the moment. It’s the white-haired boy, his tone both teasing and urgent.

You glance back at him, rolling your eyes playfully as you stick out your tongue.

“Can’t a girl have a moment?” you shoot back, a lightness in your voice that contrasts with the intensity of the moment you just shared.

“Seems like you have to go,” you say, brushing imaginary nerves off his shoulders with a teasing gesture, your fingertips lingering a moment too long.

Megumi gazes at you in silence, as if he’s trying to memorise every detail—the way your hair falls around your shoulders, the sparkle in your eyes that seems to illuminate the dim corridor.

Were you always this beautiful, or is it just the shoddy lighting casting a warm glow around you?

“Good luck,” you say, rising onto your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. The warmth of your lips against his skin sends a thrill through you, a jolt of something unspoken.

With that, you turn and dash off to catch up with your friends, laughter bubbling up as you leave him behind, your heart still racing.

You glance back to find Megumi standing there, visibly starstruck, watching you with a mix of admiration and disbelief. There’s a new softness in his gaze, one that makes your chest tighten with something you can’t quite name.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree, as you turn away.

God, he was down bad.

extras!

• COME BACK SEUNGHAN 🙏🙏

• yn lowkey gafs about megumi now chat…

• is this the enemjes to lovers we were all longing for? lol just wait until next chapter

• yn was ON that ledge like fully over the barricade SOMEONE HELP THE POOR GIRL

• ynmegumi interaction again hiiiii

• are they… falling in love with eachother???

• oh there’s sukuna hi boyfie

• he got another number… just for us? awww😍😍

• if he wanted to he would

a/n: FINALLY UP TO DATE WITH THE CHAPTERS EVERYBODY CHEER!!! this was lowkey a filler chapter but next chapter is going to be so GOOD. like i said we’re just getting started? you thought this was going to be a fluffy fic? LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[celestiamour]

ft. roderick heffley x f! reader — diary of a wimpy kid

╰₊✧ the alcohol made you do it, maybe the feelings too┊0.7k words

kinktober 2024: oct 6. intoxication

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub roderick┊slight dubcon due to intoxication, reader is a popular mean girl, roderick is whipped & whiny, unprotected piv, more plot than porn sorry

➤ author's note: how did roderick not have any maidens in the movies

“oh my god, could you be any fucking louder?!” you hissed. you couldn’t believe you were doing this, hooking up with a loser like roderick heffley. what would your friends think if they ever found out? they would probably exile you and tell everyone in the school, you’d never hear the end of it unless you moved to a different country or something.

“can help it,” he slurred, planting his face in between the valley of your breasts, “you’re so pretty…” everything about this altercation felt like a dream, so hammered that he couldn’t even think straight and in bed with one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen in his entire life. he wishes that he didn’t drink so much to remember this moment and treasure it, but he also knows that this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if he was any less buzzed.

all you could do was roll your eyes, but at least he was more quiet now that his moans were being muffled by your tits. the music blaring through the walls was loud, yet still not loud enough to drown out how noisy he was. this wasn’t something you typically did, but you were wasted and liked the way he looked at you, so here you were in his bed with his throbbing cock buried deep inside of you. 

“i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you sighed, rolling your hips into his and hearing him choke on a moan. “this is all your fault for throwing such a boring ass party.” his little brother and his friend managed to renew some of the fun, but they ended up falling asleep before midnight and the rest of the party was carried on by drunken antics. 

“‘m sorry…”

you let out a sound in exasperation at the pang of pity his apology left in your heart, gritting your teeth and closing your eyes for a moment so that you didn’t need to look at how pathetic he was. “it’s fine…” despite how cruelly you treated him at times, he was pretty easy on the eyes and not that bad of a fuck even if he’s clearly more inexperienced than you.

it’s actually kinda cute, you have to admit, how he looks up at you like you’re a goddess and touches you like he’s never seen a woman before. it gave you a rush of confidence that you’d never felt before, but in the end, he was just a hookup and this was the product of drinking too much. you don’t even get the satisfaction of “taming” the bad boy because he’s just some wannabe drummer of a shitty band whose music would make a deaf person beg for them to stop playing, one who chases skirts like a lost puppy and is known for being a flirt so terrible that not even the most desperate girls would be put off by his attempts of being cool.

and yet you’re still here on top of him, his hands digging into your thighs before you grab one of them by the wrist and direct them to rub at your clit, throwing him a bone by praising him for following your directions so obediently and feeling his cock twitch inside of you at your words. you could argue that it was the alcohol all you wanted, and maybe you have to thank it for initiating this contact, but you know deep down that it would have happened sooner or later whether or not you want to admit the infatuation growing over the past few years. you always acted as if you hated him when you truly hated his charm that shines through when he passionately plays his trash songs and his dopey smile every time you so much as looked his way.

you’ll think about all that later when you aren’t chasing your own orgasm and suffering from a banging headache. who knows, perhaps you’ll be able to coax a confession out of him and chalk it up to your friends as a pity date, they’ll believe it and probably encourage you to trick him into falling in love with you before breaking his heart. after all, you two are from completely different worlds, but you’ll make it work somehow.

[uh-wahh]

OMG STOPP OP YOU ARE A PROPHET BECAUSE THAT IS LITERALLY!!! THE EXACT ROLES I IMAGINE THEM IN IN A BAND

i am legally obligated to think of a band AU for every piece of media i enjoy

silly little brain was imagining a Soul Eater band AU (as one who is normal about things often does) and i had a few thoughts and i think i will ramble about it a little bit here to make more thoughts. i think since they'd have such a large group, they kind of swap out/tap in for certain songs so they're rarely all playing at the same time. they all probably play a couple instruments because of this (with a few exceptions) and there's just a fun assortment that they've got going on and i also think that would make some of their songs sound drastically different since it would be like a different combination of people playing. overall, i feel like they're pretty gritty and punk, but they've probably got a wide span between more electronic and maybe even hyperpop adjacent stuff and like "original" punk and rock stuff. i think it'd really depend on who was playing.

some of the instruments are obvious. Soul is legally required to play the keyboard/synth/whatever keys exist, though he probably knows how to play the most instruments out of the group so even though he's mainly piano, he can play everything and he'll add his own little flair to it.

my brain is yelling at me that Tsubaki would play the bass. idek why but it appeared in my thoughts and i think that that's the gospel truth that Tsubaki would play the bass. i feel like she would also play some wildcard instrument like a violin/viola or flute or idk like an oboe and when she breaks that out you know the song is gonna go crazy.

now, i think Black☆Star and Kid are vocals, whether they're singing solo or together and they're probably "on deck" the most, though they probably do back off at certain points. Liz is also a vocalist (i feel in my bones that she'd be like a "talk singer" or like an ashnikko type thing where she's AGGRESSIVE with her singing) but my brain is telling me she's on the guitar a lot and wouldn't be singing most of the time. she uses a lot of cool guitar picks and she likes throwing them out into the audience and people would throw picks back at her to use (and she would use them). when all three of the singers are on at the same time, the balance would be insane and i can't imagine which ranges each of them would cover (Liz is a solid mid-range voice, but i can't decide who would be higher and lower registers between Black☆Star and Kid).

Patty would be Exclusively drums and percussion and random noise maker and she's damn good at it, she probably also does fun count offs for all them when they'd start playing. Crona also plays the drums and i feel like they would also play bass, very different vibe from Patty's drumming but still a banger (lol banger, drums, ha). Patty is more "lots of noise and funky combinations" while Crona is more complicated rhythms during the solely instrumental parts. struggling with Maka b/c i think it's funny that she canonically does not know how to do any sort of music, so i think she'd probably mainly be sound and organization help since there's so many of them. HOWEVER, i feel like she'd also be really good at having one of those soundboards and balancers and all that shit (thinking about those ones w/ the square light up keys and also the ones w/ the sliders and switches and whatnot) so she'd be in the back of the ensemble with all her little boards and buttons and be putting all the effects over their music. she could also maybe sing, but i'm talking backup vocals b/c she probably doesn't want to sing a lot, she likes her little tasks.

they are all probably INSANE on stage. jumping, doing flips, handstands, cartwheels, Black☆Star definitely crowd surfs, they're throwing t-shirts into the crowd ALL THE TIME. i'm imagining a situation where they have specifically placed speakers and boxes on stage some of them can literally be elevated above the others while they're playing or singing. none of them are dressed similarly but somehow it still works and you can obviously tell they're in a band. i think their band legally needs to be called Soul Eaters (or Death Sycthes??? Death Weapons???? something like that)