potential threat to your eyes and brain

rose landry appearance!!

It makes him feel possessive, like a god. Like an animal with their kill. god he did come hard- his brain is maybe a little wonky at the moment. “I love your tits” Ilya exhales, leans down and kisses over one of Shane’s nipples, smirks at the way the boy full body jolts under Ilya, hand cupping his cheek, fingers tugging at his ear.

“Ilya” he companies, in that bitchy cute little voice he does, where he goes up on the vowel at the end. “Best tits in the world and all mine” Ilya whispers between kisses, the taste of his own cum and Shane’s sweat on his tongue.

“Ok” Shane just sighs in reply and Ilya tilts his head, takes a bite of Shane’s peck between his teeth, pushing down down until Shane squeaks, pulls his earlobe hard.

“Animal” Shane says with a huff, like an admonishment, but Ilya feels the goosebumps break on his skin against him, feels the way Shane arches up to stay close as Ilya draws back.

“For these tits? Yes” Ilya agrees solemnly, nods so that his chin digs into Shane’s chest.

“Hungry animal” Ilya clarifies, and bites again, a bigger mouthful and Shane’s fingers start to pinch at his back, his sides and Ilya holds on long enough to feel Shane start to get a little hard against his hip again.

“Stop tryna eat me” Shane grumbles and Ilya tilts his head up leans in to knock his nose on Shane’s.

“Never. You like it way too much” Ilya mutters, pouts at Ilya and then bites at Shane’s mouth.

He pulls back to look down at Shane’s chest again, hand smoothes over the skin to rub the slick of his cum all over the skin and make it shine. Ilya wants to cum on him again, and again maybe. His fingers idly pinch at Shane’s nipple and shane lets out this pretty little whine and well Ilya is just a man so he does it against and then again and when Shane says his name again it’s a needy soft sweet thing.

David who's assigned to go on a trip to Russia after Hollanov's been outed, because he's been picking up Russian and it would be a good temperature read on the Russian counterparts.

David who visits Irina's grave and spends time cleaning it up, lights a candle and sits until long after it's burned out.

David who tells Irina about Shane as a child, who tells her about all the ways Shane and Ilya fit together, who tells her about the puzzle nights and the cookies and cream ice cream and the blanket they keep specifically for Ilya on their couch.

David who reassures Irina that he helped Ilya with his cuff links on his wedding day, tells her not to worry about her boy.

David who tells Irina that her son is so loved and cherished.

David who plants a little maple tree as a "sign of friendship" in a park across from the cemetery Irina is buried in. He got to pick the place, and he made sure she would be able to see it.

Edit may 3: Hey if you're here from threads :) Love getting jump-scared with my own tumblr post getting screenshotted (this is fine i promise, they credited me properly) but jfc. Right in front of my salad???

"Gap tooth smile"

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆

english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are open if you want!

summary: Joe can’t stop looking at you on tour, but when a hotel booking mistake leaves you sharing one bed, all the feelings you've been avoiding come out.

warnings; Slow burn, coworkers-to-lovers,teasing/flirting, fluff

The tour taught you three things very quickly.

First: sleep was optional.

Second: coffee was not.

And third: being Joe’s assistant was infinitely more difficult than it should’ve been when he looked at you like that.

You noticed it during the second week. At first, you’d brushed it off as coincidence, joe was naturally attentive, naturally affectionate with everyone around him. He remembered security guards’ names, carried equipment when the crew looked exhausted, and hugged people like he genuinely meant it every single time. So when his attention lingered on you a little longer than necessary, you ignored it. When he started showing up beside you during setup just to “keep you company,” you ignored that too. And when he began inventing ridiculous reasons to text you at two in the morning…

Joe: Do you know where my green hoodie is?

you: Joe, you’re literally wearing it.

…you tried very hard not to read into it.

You failed spectacularly, because the thing about Joe was that he was impossible not to notice. He filled every room without trying. Loud laughter, messy hair, endless energy. He walked through venues like he belonged everywhere, and somehow still stopped to ask if you’d eaten lunch. And you…

Well, you belonged behind the scenes.

Clipboard in hand, laptop balanced on your knee. Quietly solving disasters before anyone else noticed them. You told yourself it could never work. Not when he was Joe.Not when you worked for him. Not when every city on tour seemed to contain another person in love with him.

So you buried the stupid little feelings deep down and focused on your job. Unfortunately, Joe seemed determined to make that impossible.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

You nearly dropped the stack of schedules in your hands. Joe stood in the hallway outside the green room, arms crossed over his chest, looking deeply offended.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“You walked away three times today.”

“I was busy.”

“You saw me coming and physically changed direction.”

“I had somewhere to be.”

Joe narrowed his eyes “You’re a terrible liar.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed past him before your face could betray you. “Soundcheck in ten minutes.” he followed immediately.

“See? Avoiding.”

“Joe”

“You don’t answer my jokes anymore.”

“You make terrible jokes.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

Your heart stumbled a little at the softness underneath his teasing tone, you kept walking faster. Joe sighed dramatically behind you. “I miss when you liked me.”

You stopped so abruptly he almost ran into you “I do like you.”

The words came out too quickly, Joe blinked.

Then slowly, very slowly, a grin spread across his face “There she is.”

You groaned immediately. “Forget I said anything.”

“Never.”

And somehow, impossibly, things got worse after that, because once Joe realized you did like him, even platonically, he became unbearable.

He sat too close during flights, rested his chin on your shoulder while reading over schedules, stole bites of your food while maintaining direct eye contact.

Once, during an interview break, he’d absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear while talking to someone else entirely, and you’d nearly forgotten your own name.

The worst part? He didn’t seem to realize what he was doing to you, or maybe he did. You honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

By the time the band reached Chicago, you were exhausted.

The venue was massive, the crew was behind schedule, and two separate equipment deliveries had somehow disappeared. You’d been running around since six in the morning surviving purely on caffeine and stress. Joe noticed immediately.

“You look tired.”

You glanced up from your laptop backstage. “Astute observation.”

Instead of laughing, his expression softened. “When did you last sleep?”

“I sleep.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

You sighed. “Joe”

“No, seriously."He said as he crouched beside your chair, concern written all over his face now.

“You’ve been running around nonstop all week.”

“I’m fine.”

“You skipped dinner.”

“How do you even know that?”

“Because I was looking for you.”

Your breath caught slightly, joe seemed unaware of what he’d just admitted. He reached over and gently pushed your coffee cup farther away from your hands “No more caffeine.”

You stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I always shake.”

“You do not always shake.”

The concern in his voice hit harder than it should’ve.

You looked away first, he stayed there beside you for another moment before speaking quietly.

“You know you don’t have to do everything alone, right?”

Something warm twisted painfully in your chest, because nobody ever noticed things like that. But Joe did, and that was the problem.

The concert that night was sold out. The crowd screamed loud enough to vibrate through the floorboards backstage while you checked lighting cues one last time. Joe passed by you on his way toward the stage entrance, guitar already strapped over his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

The gentleness caught you off guard.

You nodded. “Go be famous.”

He grinned. “Only because you told me to.” he said, squeezing your shoulder once before disappearing into the lights. You exhaled shakily.

He was going to kill you one day.

The show went smoothly for the first hour. You stayed focused, moving between stage crew and sound technicians, fixing minor issues before they became disasters.

Then Joe started “Gap Tooth Smile.” And suddenly everything fell apart.

The second the first verse began, he looked straight at you, not vaguely in your direction, not even accidentally but directly.

You frowned slightly, confused at first, then he smiled. Not his stage smile. Not the practiced grin he flashed at crowds. Something softer.

Your stomach flipped violently.

“Oh no,” one of the crew members beside you whispered, immediately noticing, you ignored them and Joe kept singing, and every single time the lyrics turned soft or fond or yearning, his eyes found yours again.

By the chorus, you couldn’t breathe properly anymore, heat climbed all the way up your neck as realization slowly, horrifyingly settled in. He was singing to you. Actually singing to you.

Your face burned instantly and Joe noticed. His grin widened mid-song, dimples appearing as he fought back laughter while still somehow sounding perfect.

You mouthed, Stop looking at me, but he very deliberately kept looking at you.

The crowd screamed louder when he wandered closer to your side of the stage. Someone behind you snorted.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, covering your face briefly. Joe looked devastatingly pleased with himself. And somehow that made it worse, because underneath all the teasing, underneath the smug grin and relentless eye contact there was something achingly sincere in the way he looked at you. Like the rest of the arena had disappeared entirely.

After the show, you avoided him.Not intentionally.

Okay, maybe intentionally.

Just a little.

You buried yourself in logistics while the band did meet-and-greets, praying your heartbeat would return to normal before Joe cornered you somewhere. Unfortunately, Joe had apparently made finding you his life mission.

“There you are.”

You looked up to find him standing in the hotel lobby hours later, curls damp from a quick shower at the venue, hoodie sleeves pushed up his arms.

“You disappeared.”

“I was working.”

“Mhm.” He clearly didn’t believe you and before you could answer, the receptionist smiled apologetically from behind the desk.

“There seems to be an issue with your reservation.”

Your stomach dropped instantly “What kind of issue?”

“We only have one room available.”

You blinked.

Joe blinked.

“One room?” you repeated weakly.

“With one bed,” the receptionist added.

You closed your eyes briefly, somewhere beside you, Joe coughed suspiciously to hide a laugh.

“You think this is funny?” you hissed.

“A little.”

“Joe.”

“We’ll survive.”

You glared at him. Unfortunately, he looked extremely pretty while amused.

The room was beautiful, which honestly felt like a personal attack. Soft lighting. Huge windows overlooking the city. One massive bed sitting directly in the center like it was mocking you personally.

Joe dropped his bag near the couch.

“You can take the bed.”

You looked at him immediately. “What?”

“I’ll sleep out here.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“You’re six foot whatever, Joe. That couch is tiny.”

He shrugged easily. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

You stared at him for a moment,and there it was again, that quiet sweetness underneath everything else. The thing nobody talked about enough. Joe was kind. Painfully kind.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said softly.

His expression gentled slightly. “Neither do you.”

For one dangerous second, neither of you looked away, then you cleared your throat abruptly and opened your laptop. “I just need to finish tomorrow’s schedule.”

Joe smiled faintly, like he knew exactly what you were doing.

Avoiding, but this time he let you.

“Okay,” he murmured before disappearing into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, the shower started running, you tried focusing on your work. Really tried. Unfortunately your brain had become entirely useless sometime around Joe singing directly at you in front of thousands of people.

You reread the same email four times, deleted half a sentence, retyped it.

Then the bathroom door opened and your eyes lifted automatically, and of course  immediately regretted it. Joe stepped out with a towel hanging low around his waist, hair damp and messy, water still glistening along his skin.

Your brain stopped functioning completely. You looked away so fast it almost hurt. Behind you, Joe went suspiciously quiet.

Then: “Were you staring?”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

“I looked up accidentally.”

Joe laughed softly, the sound alone made your face hotter.

“Oh my God,” you muttered into your hands.

“You’re blushing.”

“Please go put clothes on.”

“But this is entertaining.”

You finally risked a glance upward, a huge mistake. Joe was leaning casually against the bathroom doorway now, smiling in the most unfairly pretty way imaginable.

“You know,” he said lightly, “I thought the whole avoiding me thing meant you weren’t interested.”

“I am not interested.”

“Liar.”

Your heart nearly exploded. Joe’s smile faded slightly around the edges then, something softer taking its place.

“You know what the problem is?” he asked quietly.

You swallowed hard. “What?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The room went completely still. He looked almost nervous now, which felt impossible considering this was the same man who performed in front of arenas full of people nightly.

“You’re always there,” he continued softly. “Every city. Every show. Every disaster.” He laughed quietly. “And somehow you still smile at me after all of it.”

You couldn’t speak.

“I look for you before I walk onstage,” he admitted. “Every night and tonight when I was singing…” He smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t really thinking about the crowd.”

“You made that painfully obvious.”

Joe laughed again, gentler this time, then he stepped closer “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “I just needed you to know.”

But you did need to say something, because he was looking at you like you mattered.

“I tried not to like you,” you admitted quietly.

Joe went very still,you laughed nervously. “You’re my boss. Technically.”

“Technically,” he echoed softly.

“You’re impossible.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“You flirt with everyone.”

His expression changed instantly “No,” he said simply. “Not like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat, he moved closer carefully, like he was afraid of scaring you away. When his hand finally touched yours, warm and gentle against your fingers, your entire body softened without permission.

“I like you,” he said quietly. “A lot.”

You looked at him for one long moment before whispering “I know.”

His smile then…God.

Soft. Relieved. Almost disbelieving. Beautiful enough to ruin you permanently. And when he kissed you, it felt exactly like the slow burn of every stolen glance and lingering touch and late-night conversation finally catching fire all at once. Joe’s hand cupped your cheek gently while yours instinctively curled into his damp hair, and he smiled against your mouth when you did it.

“You have no idea,” he whispered between kisses, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You laughed shakily. “You were not subtle tonight.”

“I know.”

“Everyone noticed.”

“I know.”

“Nick definitely noticed.”

Joe groaned dramatically into your shoulder. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

You laughed properly then, and Joe’s expression softened like hearing that sound was his favorite thing in the world. Maybe it already was.

Later, long after your laptop had been abandoned and the city lights dimmed outside the windows, you ended up curled against his chest beneath the blankets. Joe’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, like he’d been waiting to hold you for much longer than just tonight. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back while silence settled comfortably around the room.

“You know,” he murmured sleepily into your hair, “I was genuinely prepared to spend this entire tour hopelessly in love with you without saying anything.”

You tilted your head upward. “Seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s tragic.”

“I’m aware.”

You smiled softly, he looked down at you then with that same unbearably fond expression from the stage earlier.Only now there was no crowd and most importantly , no distance.

“You looked really pretty tonight,” he whispered.

Your face warmed instantly. “Joe.”

“I’m serious.”

“You say things like that too casually.”

“I’ve been thinking about them for months.” he said brushing his thumb gently beneath your eye.

“I think,” he murmured, voice sleepy now, “I started falling for you when you yelled at a venue manager in Boston because he forgot my tea.”

You laughed against his chest. “That’s your love story?”

“You were terrifying.”

“I was stressed.”

“You were hot.”

You groaned, hiding your face against him while he laughed quietly.Then his arms tightened  around you again and softer this time, almost vulnerable, he whispered:

“Stay?”

Like there was any universe where you wouldn’t.

You nodded against him. Joe kissed the top of your head gently before settling back into the pillows, holding you impossibly close. And sometime in the middle of the night, half-asleep and warm in his arms, you felt him press another sleepy kiss into your hair and murmur “There’s my girl.”

Omega Shane Hollander (+ Luca and reader) 

Rambles 

The Heated Rivalry brainrot is still going. I tried acupuncture today for my anxiety and depression, and I can’t tell if it helped yet, but it was weird. How’s everyone doing? 

Can be read as romantic or platonic tbh.