#I’m so sad they’re not face performers now I can’t ask them if they’re in love );

[steddieas-shegoes]

you and all of your new perspective

for @steddiesongfics using 'new perspective' by noah kahan

also on ao3

rated m | 3,513 words | no cw | tags: rock star eddie munson, good uncle wayne munson, mutual pining, yearning, post-vecna, love confessions, idiots in love, first kiss, implied sexual content, getting together

🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻🤘🏻

He’s looking down at the letter and wondering how the hell he’s supposed to be normal about Eddie visiting him.

In Hawkins.

Where Eddie swore he’d never come back to the moment he got his ticket out of here.

“Starin’ at it ain’t gonna make him not come,” Wayne says from across the counter. “Surprised he didn’t call ya to tell ya.”

“He…he left a few messages,” Steve explains, setting the letter down and resting his face in his hands. “I just figured he wouldn’t come if I didn’t call him back.”

Wayne raises a brow, gives him a look that Steve’s perfectly familiar with by now. Four years of weekly dinners with a man that’s well aware of your feelings for his nephew leads to some knowing looks and light teasing.

“Only reason he’d ever step foot in this town again is for you and you know that,” Wayne says as he opens another beer. He has three every Friday night, but no longer indulges during the week. Ain’t so young anymore, son, and I gotta stay active to keep up with all your chores, he’d told Steve when he asked. Steve thinks the doctor told him to take it easier. “I don’t think he even told the kids.”

“Don’t see why he would. They’re all over. He’s probably seen them on tour.”

Steve tries not to sound bitter. He woke up in his own bed or whatever the saying is. He can’t blame Eddie for doing exactly what he said he would, following his dreams, getting the hell out of Hawkins the moment he could. The kids did the same, but at least they visited.

“Well, they’ve been houndin’ him to come visit you.”

Steve lifts his head. “They what?”

“They just worry ‘bout ya,” Wayne shrugs. “So do I.”

“I went on a date last week! Robin visited two months ago! I see you every Friday!” Steve stands and starts pacing. “I’m gonna go visit Dustin at school in a month. And Will has his freshman exhibition that we’re all trying to meet up at. It’s not like I’m lonely.”

“Son, I think the only person lonelier than you is Eddie,” Wayne gives him that sad smile he gives whenever they talk about Steve’s social life. It’s like he knows it’s pitiful, and he knows Steve knows it’s pitiful, and he’s making sure Steve knows that he knows. “And he’s stubborn as a mule, but he cares too much about ya to let you suffer.”

“Who said anything about suffering?”

“It’s implied by the way the kids talk about you.”

“How’s that?”

“The word hermit has been used a bunch,” Wayne explains. “Now, I’m gonna finish this beer and you’re gonna stop workin’ yourself up over something that’s still days away.”

Steve rushes over to his calendar, holding up the letter, then checking the calendar.

“He’s gonna be here in three days!” Steve yells. “I can’t be ready by then!”

“What the hell do you need to be ready for? It’s just Eddie,” Wayne is smirking again and Steve’s tired of his teasing, but he’s not gonna say anything because it doesn’t do any good to draw more attention to it. “He ain’t expecting a welcome committee. Maybe a balloon or somethin’; You know he likes the show of it all.”

Steve groans.

He does know. Eddie loves dramatics, that’s what makes him such a good performer on stage. That’s what makes him a great DM.

That’s what made Steve fall in love with him.

“I don’t even know where to get balloons,” Steve says, resting his forehead against the wall.

“The new Wal-Mart should have some,” Wayne pats his shoulder. “We watchin’ the game or standing around havin’ a crisis in your kitchen?”

Steve breathes in. He breathes out.

“I’ll have a crisis tomorrow, I guess.”

“That’s my boy!”

++++

The crisis does come the next day, but this time Wayne isn’t there to make it worse or better. He considers calling Robin, but he knows she’ll just tell him to use his good cologne and try not to be weird. He even thinks about calling Dustin, but immediately shuts that down when he remembers that Dustin is the one who called him a hermit to Eddie’s face.

He finds balloons at the store, and adds streamers to the cart on a whim. He’s sure Eddie will love it. Eddie loves that kind of shit.

He also grabs a pie crust and apples because he remembers Eddie saying how much he loves apple pie with vanilla ice cream one time nearly five years ago.

Okay, maybe it’ll be weird that he remembered that.

He goes to put the apples back when Joyce bumps into him as she’s reaching for a bunch of bananas.

“Sorry honey!” She throws her hands out to catch him, even though she’s the one who almost falls. “I wasn’t paying attention. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, how’re you?” Steve gives her a small smile, trying not to show how panicked he is.

“Sweetie, you look stressed. Is something wrong?”

“No! No, just preparing for a guest,” Steve says, unsure if Eddie’s told anyone else in Hawkins he would be visiting and not wanting to ruin any surprises if he intended on doing that.

He doesn’t even know how long Eddie’s staying; He didn’t say in his letter or voicemails. Wayne hasn’t mentioned it either, which means he probably knows exactly how long he’s staying.

“Oh, is Eddie staying with you?” She asks, brows furrowing. “I assumed he was staying with Wayne. I helped him find an apple pie recipe for his visit.”

Steve looks down at the ingredients in the cart, the evidence of what he’s going to make even more obvious now. Joyce’s gaze follows his and she bites back a knowing smile.

“Ah.”

“Ah?” He asks.

“Uh huh,” she says, nodding. “I would make sure to get the green apples. He likes sour more than sweet when there’s ice cream.”

Steve looks over at the green apples and back at the red apples he was planning on buying. Joyce winks at him before she grabs the bananas and starts to walk away.

“Enjoy the visit!”

Steve doesn’t respond.

He grabs six green apples and shoves them in a plastic produce bag.

He’ll make the damn apple pie and Eddie will love it. Steve will pretend the apple pie isn’t filled with the love he can barely contain for the man, and maybe Eddie will enjoy it and leave as if he never came.

Maybe Steve can make it through this visit with dignity.

****

Eddie shows up at three in the afternoon on a Wednesday. Technically, it’s 3:03, but Steve wasn’t watching the clock or anything. That would be ridiculous.

He looks just like he always did, just like Steve expected. He’s smiling, and playing with the ends of his curls. Steve is never gonna make it through this visit with dignity.

“Stevie!” Eddie rushes in for a hug, and it should be more awkward than it is. Eddie didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms with Steve. They really only spoke a handful of times over the last few years, and most of those were forced by Wayne or Dustin. But it’s like he never left, like he’s been hugging Steve every day for years.

Steve soaks it up, falls into it and doesn’t care how it looks. If Eddie has a problem with it, he doesn’t say so. He holds Steve tighter, his breath warm against his neck.

Eventually, Steve invites him inside and it does start to feel awkward.

Eddie’s a rock star now, and despite how normal he looks, he’s different. He’s here to see Steve, but is he here out of guilt that it took him this long to visit or because he actually wants to?

Steve talks about work, and his dinners with Wayne, and spends more time than he should explaining Robin’s degree program even though he knows Robin already talked to Eddie when she got accepted. He goes on and on about what everyone else is up to because his life is pretty boring in comparison and he doesn’t want to bore Eddie away.

“Sounds like everyone’s doing good, but I already knew that,” Eddie eventually says when Steve’s rambled for much longer than he planned. “How are you?”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Steve says. “Kinda boring around here, honestly. How’s the tour been?”

Eddie laughs and Steve tries not to let it hurt. He doesn’t think he means it in the way Steve’s taking it and that’s a Steve problem, not an Eddie problem.

“I called you 37 times,” Eddie says instead of answering him. “Every city we had a show. The first few I figured you were just busy or asleep. I didn’t think about time zones. But then I started to realize you were avoiding me.”

He isn’t mad, or at least he doesn’t look mad, but Steve feels like he needs to apologize anyway.

“Yeah, sorry. After a while, it kinda…”

“Seemed worse to call since it was so long?” Eddie asks, small smile falling from his face when Steve nods. “It’s never a bad thing to hear from friends, though. You could’ve called the bus phone anytime. Left a message. We got an answering machine because Gareth’s mom always calls when we’re on stage.”

“Right. Good to know,” Steve says. Which, it is good to know, but he doesn’t plan on calling unless there’s an emergency. He can’t look as desperate as he feels and if he calls once, he’ll call twice, and then a hundred times. “What city was your favorite so far?”

Eddie tilts his head, looks him over for a moment before responding. “I liked Boston. All the kids were front row. Except El, she somehow got backstage. Still not sure how. Missed you, though.”

Steve feels his face heat up at the words. Eddie always said things in a flirty way, even though he doesn’t really mean it that way. Steve can’t let himself think that he means it that way.

“It’s a pretty big trip, so. I couldn’t miss work.”

It’s a shit excuse because he absolutely could miss work. It’s a grocery store in a small town, and he doesn’t care that much about it.

“They couldn’t find someone to cover a couple days for you?” Eddie sounds hurt now, and Steve can’t let him think that he’s the problem.

“I didn’t ask. I-” Steve has to be brave now. Wayne’s voice is in his head telling him to just tell Eddie why he’s been so distant, why he hasn’t been the one to reach out. “I was scared to go.”

This seems to throw Eddie off balance. His eyes squint and forehead wrinkles adorably as he tries to do mental gymnastics to find out why Steve of all people would be scared to visit him. Steve is known for throwing himself in the line of fire, being the first one to step in when everyone else is scared. Too bad this type of courage is different.

“Are you scared of flying? I didn’t know, maybe we could have figured out a hired car.”

“No, I don’t mind flying,” Steve admits.

“Then…why were you scared?”

“Because if I let you in, you’ll see how much I miss you and if you see how much I miss you, you’ll see how much I love you. And then you’d never wanna have me around and it would be just like everyone else I love who leaves because I’m not enough to keep them around,” Steve lays his head back against the couch. The Wayne voice in his head is suspiciously quiet.

So is Eddie.

Steve isn’t going to talk anymore; He’s said enough.

Eddie’s hand covers Steve’s. It’s warm and surprisingly soft, and bigger than Steve’s. He never realized that before, not even when he held his hand while he was in the hospital after Vecna or when he watched him play guitar for hours while he was trying to gain his confidence back.

“People don’t leave because you aren’t enough, Steve. They leave because the world is big and they want to be a part of it. Everyone wants you to do that, too,” Eddie says softly, carefully. “I think most of the kids hoped you’d leave Hawkins once they did. Dustin thought you’d come on tour with me.”

“Why would he think that?” Steve doesn’t remember ever having a conversation with Dustin that would make him think that, but his memory isn’t the best.

Eddie’s lips curl up into a smile and he leans forward.

“You know you’re incredibly obvious, right?” Eddie whispers even though they’re alone and there’s no need to be quiet. “You’ve always been easy to read.”

“What does that mean? Read what?”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve and it’s been right there with Eddie written across it since I was in the hospital, sweetheart.” Eddie points to Steve’s arm. He looks down as if he would be able to see the heart Eddie’s talking about. “You’re an open book.”

The timer in the kitchen goes off and Steve jumps up. He rushes to the oven, grateful for the distraction.

“Is that apple pie?” Eddie asks from a few feet away. Steve really should’ve known he would follow him.

“Yes, it’s gotta be perfect.”

“You made apple pie for me?”

Eddie’s right behind him now, and when he turns, there’s no space between them at all. Steve smells the airport on him, the rental car, the cologne he’s worn since Steve bought it for him before he left Hawkins.

He looks up and sees the years that have passed in smile lines on Eddie’s face, in a single gray hair that Eddie’s probably keeping because it makes him look cool. Steve hasn’t found any gray hairs yet, but he’s only 25. Eddie always said Wayne went completely gray by 30, so his genetics wouldn’t be as kind to him. Steve kinda hopes he’s right. Eddie would be beautiful with gray curls.

“Just like I said: heart on your sleeve,” Eddie whispers, leaning in until his lips are just barely brushing against Steve’s.

He’s waiting for Steve, to see if he’ll finally give in after years of near-silence, after whatever flirty and semi-codependent friendship they had before Eddie left to be a rock star.

Steve’s spent enough time waiting, and he thinks Eddie probably has, too.

His lips press against Eddie’s, sure of their movements despite the anxiety crawling through his chest and the unfamiliar taste of him on his tongue.

It’s full of hunger even though it only lasts a few seconds. Steve’s wanted this, wanted him, for so long, he puts everything he has into this moment. If it’s all he gets, he wants it to be perfect.

“You’re kissing me like you’re sending me off to war,” Eddie says when they’ve caught their breath.

“Feels like I am,” Steve admits, corner of his mouth turning up in a sad smile. “At least a little.”

“I think the odds of me dying on stage are probably extremely slim,” Eddie laughs. Steve doesn’t laugh with him. “Steve? What’s wrong?”

Steve pulls himself away, ignoring the way his chest aches at the separation. He’ll have to get used to that when Eddie leaves.

“You have a whole new life. You’re a rock star, Ed. I can’t force my feelings on you now.”

“Who said you forced anything on me?”

“I made you apple pie!” Steve exclaims, pulling away so he can breathe again. Having Eddie in his space alters his brain chemistry, maybe his DNA. “I bought all your favorite things so I could try to convince you I’m worth staying for, even though I can’t compare to going on a world tour with your band. I cleaned out the guest room and made sure I put your favorite shampoo in the shower as if you would even notice that. As if it would be enough to keep you around.”

Eddie steps closer, but Steve steps back.

“Your life is different now. It’s good. I wouldn’t add anything to it, and I don’t know why I even tried to make it seem like I would.”

Eddie steps closer, and there’s nowhere for Steve to go. He’s boxed in against the counter, and Eddie’s face is red with anger. He’s not scared– he could never be scared of Eddie– but he does swallow around a lump in his throat and try to take a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

“My life is different now, you’re right about that. My life doesn’t even feel like mine most days. I belong to fans, and the guys, and the record label. But you know what does feel like mine?” Eddie leans in close enough that his breath is hot against Steve’s face. “How much I love you. How much I have always loved you. You’ve always felt like mine, Steve.”

It’s a hell of a confession, and definitely not what Steve expected from this visit.

The Wayne voice in his head decides to speak again. Except this time, it’s something he’s said to Steve in person before.

He’s surrounded by people, but he seems pretty lonely. Kinda like he still needs a certain someone.

Steve’s brows crinkle as he thinks about the words Wayne said after a phone call with Eddie during the first part of his first tour nearly two years ago. The words were accompanied by a look that Steve has since come to recognize as his sad puppy look.

The same one Eddie’s giving him now.

Steve can’t help it; He laughs.

“You and Wayne could bottle that look and sell it to people who need someone to feel bad for ‘em,” Steve says. He cups Eddie’s cheek in his palm, rubs his thumb against the angry red that turns into a flushed pink. “I don’t know how you could love me-”

“Steve-”

“But!” Steve interrupts. “I know you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it. And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have taken the time to come back here at all, let alone stay with me. I won’t understand it, but I’ll believe it.”

“That was easier than Wayne said it would be,” Eddie’s smile grows slowly, lighting up his face and the room.

“He’s been buttering me up for years,” Steve shrugs.

“Doing all the hard work, more like,” Eddie leans forward, rests his forehead against Steve’s. “He must’ve been sick of hearing me yearn for your love.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, you could have come back sooner. You didn’t have to wait until I was convinced I’d be alone forever.”

“And you could have called me to let me know I could visit sooner.” Eddie pokes the tip of his nose with his finger, smirking as he leans away to look back at the apple pie on the oven. “Especially if I could’ve been having apple pie on every break.”

“It might not even be good,” Steve says as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist.

“Is there vanilla ice cream?” Eddie pecks his lips.

“Mhm,” Steve kisses his cheek. “And you can have some if you promise to sit down and tell me everything about the band.”

“You wanna waste time hearing about Gareth drooling over every woman who looks his way? We could be making love on the couch.”

Steve raises a brow. “We won’t be making love anywhere but my bed. And it won’t be until we’ve talked more.”

“Fiiiine,” Eddie rolls his eyes, but grabs for the pie cutter on the counter. “Cut me a piece of pie and I’ll do my best to resist taking all your clothes off.”

“I never said you couldn’t do that,” Steve grabs the pie cutter.

“So I can take your clothes off?”

“Shirt only. And after pie…we’ll talk.”

“I thought after pie we’d be done talking.”

“How long are you staying?” Steve asks as he puts the slice of pie onto the plate and hands it to Eddie.

“Four days.”

Steve tilts his head side to side, considering what he can accomplish in four days.

In any other situation, he might be worried about how quickly he throws off his shirt. In any other situation, he would probably insist on talking to Robin before throwing his heart on the plate next to the scoop of ice cream Eddie just put next to his steaming slice of pie. In any other situation, he would take things slow and get to know rock star Eddie who left Hawkins to be someone.

But he’s finding that he’s okay with speed-running things.

He’s got a new perspective on Eddie’s visit, and maybe a new perspective on what their future will look like.

Steve drops his pants. Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Eat your pie. We’ll talk while we make love on the couch.”

[japannkenn]

✋this. Is completely cursed. the legs. the shoes. how positively delightful. wow.

[mulloey]

partition please • mingi

pent-up and desperate after a show, mingi can’t wait to get back to the hotel

word count: 2.9k

warnings: slight dom!mingi x sub!reader, slight exhibitionism (in a car), fingering, dirty talk, NOT proofread

—————

You hear him coming when he finally staggers backstage; the sounds of him and the members’ conversations and congratulations fill the hallway and you smile to yourself. They deserve it; from the monitor in the dressing room he’d set you up in you’d seen their performance in all its glory and fuck, your boyfriend sure knows how to work an audience. When his voice gets louder, indicating he’s on the other side of the door, you hear him bid goodbye to the others before it swings open.

He looks even better in real life, you think; but you think that every time you see him. Pictures and videos can’t do justice to the panting, sweating man stood in front of you. He throws you a smile as he peels off the thick fur coat he’d worn on stage and haphazardly discards it on the couch. He extends his arms towards you, grinning in relief.

“Come here, baby,” he says. His voice is deep, raspy and tired and you feel it in your gut as you scurry towards him.

He pulls you closer to him, running his big hands up and down your back, to just above the highest point of your ass. He sighs contentedly and you smile. “You did so good, Mingi,” you praise.

His grin widens, excited now. “Y’think so, doll?” He asks and you nod. “I’m glad. Help me get these clothes off now honey, I feel gross.”

You want to tell him not to, because the sight of his clothes literally clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, hanging off each curve of his muscles, is appetising, but his comfort is most important — and as much as you like the sight in front of you, a naked Mingi is just as delicious. Maybe more.

You allow yourself a sad expression as you help him peel the fabrics off of himself, discarding them on top of the coat he’d removed earlier. You bite your lip, unable to pull your gaze from the sight of his bare torso. The skin is perfect; golden and glistening with sweat that practically makes him glow, and each time he takes an exhausted, gasping breath, his pecs move up and down deliciously. You’re probably drooling, you realise. You definitely don’t care.

You hear him laugh, and look up to see him shaking his head as he walks over to his bag. You watch as he pulls out his clothes, facing away from you so all you can see is that insanely, fictionally broad back until he turns around to show the — oh fuck — grey sweatpants and black tank top in his hands. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for a reaction to what you’ve told him is your absolute favourite outfit but you just smile. “You should get dressed then,” you say sweetly. “Or you’ll catch a cold.”

He stares for a second, a little dumbfounded before bursting into laughter. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “I will. But I know what you’re doing.”

You shrug, looking innocent. “Not doing anything.”

“Right,” he grins. “Course not. See ya in a second, baby.”

He slips into the connecting bathroom and you follow him with your eyes, chewing on your bottom lip. Emerging after a few minutes you realise the black tank top is a little too small — even when he pulls it down, muttering irritably, it sits just below his belly button, exposing his lower stomach. You clear your throat, calming down; it’s not particularly hot in this room and there’s even a fan blowing cool air into you, but you feel the sweat forming — dripping down your face and landing on your tits that peek out of your equally revealing tank top. Mingi notices; he puts up a good show of trying to be subtle but you see the way his eyes keep flickering downwards, pupils dilating slightly. A smile pulls at your lips and you chuckle. “Stop pretending and just look,” you say. “They’re yours anyway.”

He grins, dropping all pretence of subtlety and instead staring blatantly at your tits, licking his lips. You see his jaw tense, body tightening as your chest moves slightly each time you breathe — still glistening with moisture. He exhales, shaking his head. “God,” he sighs. “You are something else, aren’t you?”

You giggle, staring up at him through hooded eyes. “Siren,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You smile, tilting your head. “I have some idea.”

“I’m sure.” He cocks an eyebrow, looking you up and down. You see evil plans forming in his eyes, pulling the corners of his lips into a soft smirk. “Take it off.”

“What?” You blurt. “Take what off?”

He looks at you like it’s obvious — which it sort of would be, if you were thinking straight. “Your shirt, dummy. Take it off.”

You baulk, taken aback. Has he forgotten where you are? “What, here?” You ask almost indignantly.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yes, here, little girl,” he says. “Now hurry up. We don’t have long before someone starts wondering why we haven’t left yet.”

“Let’s just do it at the hotel then,” you suggest. You shift on your feet, still hot.

He stares at you for a moment, face blank before he sighs, chuckling dryly. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” he mutters. “Let me try again. Take off your shirt. Now.”

From the tone of his voice, the slow, controlled pace of his words it finally becomes clear to you that Mingi is not asking and you swallow, nodding fervently before quickly pulling your tank top over your head, discarding it on the floor. Now clad only in your sweatpants and bra, he stares at the fabric with almost hatred. “That too,” he says, gesturing to your black bra. “Let me see those tits, sweetheart.”

Quickly you unhook your bra, though your hands shaking from nerves and excitement make it a little more difficult, and drop it on top of your discarded top. He whistles lowly, looking you up and down with narrowed eyes. “Damn,” he says. His voice is raspy and thick with arousal. You release a shuddered breath, unconsciously sticking your chest out, trying to impress him. He chuckles. “You’re perfect, baby. Especially those tits. Don’t worry.”

He approaches you quickly, searching your eyes for permission which you grant with a nod. At your assent he grabs one of your tits, dwarfing it in his giant hands. He kneads them with a slight gentleness that quickly fades as he gets more and more affected. Grabbing your nipple, he rolls it between the pads of his fingers, relishing in the way you gasp and moan at the sensation. When you release a particularly loud wine, he pinches hard, digging into the sensitive skin with his nails. It only makes you louder, squirming under his touch. “Mingi—”

“Shh,” he urges. “Fuck. Shit, okay. I’m calling a car.”

You look up at him with a frown, confused. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he interrupts. “And now I’m saying this. I’m calling a car back to the hotel and for the sake of my career I’m praying it has a partition. Put your shirt back on.”

He releases you from his hold and you nod dizzily. Reaching for your discarded clothes you first pick up the bra, about to put it on when he stops you. “I said your shirt,” he says. “Gimme the bra.”

You stare confusedly, blinking. “You don’t want me to wear a bra?”

He shrugs. “Easy access. I don’t want anything in the way when I’m feeling you up.”

You roll your eyes. “People will stare.”

“The only person who’ll see is the driver,” he says. “And if he decides to look, he’ll also see my hands shoved up your shirt and down your pants.”

A shudder runs down your spine and you gulp, nodding slightly. “Fine,” you say. Nervously, you hold out the bra to him and he takes it, smiling innocently at you as he silently tucks it into his pocket. “Good girl,” he says.

The walk to the car is dizzying; stuck to Mingi’s side, nipples straining against the thin shirt that keeps you just this side of exposed; the feeling of the cool air on your chest and your large, hungry boyfriend practically pulling you towards the exit goes straight to your head — among other places. Knowing what you’re like, how easily he affects you, Mingi is all too happy to hold you up (with ease) as you finally clamour into the car. Quickly talking to the driver, Mingi sits back, taking you into his arms as the partition slowly rolls up. When it finally closes, leaving you alone with him, he wraps a strong arm around your shoulder and lounges back in the leather seats of the expensive-seeming car, his legs spread leisurely. He sighs, throwing his head back. “Fuck.”

You stare nervously at him, awaiting his next move. You wonder what he’ll do — will he start something right here like he’d promised? Will he grope and expose you, making you come undone right here on the backseat? Or was he just teasing you; working you up to make you even more desperate for him? You don’t know. Anything is possible with Mingi.

You catch his gaze after a few minutes and he chuckles, adjusting himself slightly. “What ya thinking about, baby?” He asks. His voice is soft and fond; almost patronising and you know he’s mocking you. He knows exactly what you’re thinking about, and he loves it.

“Mingi,” you huff. “Come on.”

“Hmm?” He raises a brow, staring at you with an innocent smile. “Come on, baby. You know you can tell me anything.”

You say nothing, biting your lip. Though you’re normally completely comfortable around your boyfriend, right now, when he’s like this and looks at you like that, you’re too intimidated to speak.

“Tell me,” he purrs. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You release a shuddered breath, nodding dizzily. You feel the chuckle he lets out against your skin, inches from your neck and painfully close. Your whole body is alight with need now; burning with desire for him. He smiles. “Where?” He asks.

“Here?” His hand closes around your thigh, squeezing it just enough to sting and you whine, squirming in his hold. He shushes you, gaze flickering towards the partition, looking far less concerned than he should. He chuckles, turning back to you. “Maybe here?” His hand travels upwards slightly, to the inside of your thigh just below your heat. He nudges at you slightly, and without prompting your legs instinctively part. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good girl,” he whispers. “Fuck, you always know what I want.”

“Cause m’ yours, Mingi,” you mumble.

He grins, patting your cheek fondly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shudder.

He clicks his tongue, and in a matter of seconds you find your sweatpants tugged down to the middle of your thighs, exposing your white panties to him. You watch as his lips part in awe at the sight — you’re soaked. Actually soaked; just from a few touches and the feeling of his voice and breath against your neck, you’re utterly drenched, dripping through the thin white fabric and dampening the black leather seat. He whistles, pupils dilated. “Wow.”

You feel the heat flood your face and you want to hide your head in your hands, but the moment you move your arms Mingi grabs your wrists, holding them easily in his grip. You whine; this is embarrassing. You’re partially exposed, held in the arms of your fully-clothed, leering boyfriend and literally dripping into the seats. This is humiliating. This is shameless. Mingi looks half a second away from devouring you whole.

“M’ gonna let go of your hands now,” he says quietly, “so I can touch all your pretty parts nice and easily. But if you move ‘em or try to hide yourself in any way you’re getting face-fucked. Got it, pretty?”

You gulp; you know from experience this is not an empty threat, and in the back of a private car with the partition up is a hell of a lot more privacy than Mingi’s previously seen necessary to carry out this particular punishment. You nod, mumbling your agreement. He smiles, releasing your hands and like a good girl, you let them fall limp at your side. He nods, satisfied before you’re suddenly shoved over, landing painfully against the window of your seat. Mingi lifts your leg roughly, leaving you sat up, facing him and completely exposed even before he hooks a finger under your panties and carefully peels them to the side. As he does, a trail of slick follows them, sticking to the soaked fabric. He doesn’t say anything; the knowing smile he sends you is enough for you to see just how amusing he finds this.

“I’m gonna finger fuck you, baby,” he says, sliding in a finger with ease as he does so. You jolt at the feeling, holding back a whine and he smiles. “Can you stay nice and pliant for me?”

As he speaks he slides another finger in, almost as easily as the first one, and you’re so overwhelmed by the feeling that all you can do is nod. His other hand comes to rest on top of your thigh, stroking it gently as he starts to pump his fingers in and out.

The thing about Mingi, something you learned very early on, is that everything about him is big. From his body to his dick (yeah, definitely his dick) to even just his presence, he’s large in every way. And as his fingers quickly work you open, the only sounds in the car the low hum of the engine and the squelching of your pussy as he stretches it out, you feel the truth of his statement more than ever. He reaches your G-spot with ease, pounding up against it without mercy and you groan, feeling the pressure build. His grip on your thigh gets tighter and tighter as the speed and strength of his fingers increase, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. But not quite there, of course — you won’t be finishing until Mingi says. Mingi pleasures you on his terms, not yours.

After a while of pumping in and out of you, you start to adjust to the feeling, and the sensation of his fingers on your G-spot repeatedly becomes as pleasant as it is overwhelming — just as he presses his thumb against your clit, sending another wave of overwhelming pleasure crashing through your body. You cry out, throwing your head back as the feelings overwhelm you, crashing against each other, building and overflowing.

“You’re gonna cum before the car pulls up at our hotel, alright baby?”

You groan, nodding to yourself. You’re not sure how close you are, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re going to cum soon enough, one way or another, and you doubt you’d be able to hold it until you got to your room even if you wanted to. Mingi smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your thigh before starting up again, even faster and stronger than before.

“Cum with me, baby,” he grunts. As his hands speed up his expression twists, contorted with need and pent-up aggression; biting his lip so hard it’s painful, brows furrowed, nostrils flared as sweat drips down his forehead. His dick is straining against his pants, begging for attention but he’s completely focused on you; on making you come undone in his hands.

“Three…” He grunts, speeding up again. Each thrust of his fingers has more pressure, strength and precision behind it than the last. You’re practically delirious now, seconds away from your climax but you don’t know how you’re going to hold yourself back even for that long.

“Two…” You’re certain your thigh will be bruised tomorrow just from the strength of his grip on it; he’s holding onto it like a lifeline, channelling all the strength and aggression he can’t release on your pussy into his grip on your sensitive skin. You’re held securely in place, totally at his mercy. It feels amazing.

“One…” The last second passes tantalisingly, torturously slowly. You feel your orgasm rushing towards you, overwhelmed and full and ready to come undone, to burst. He feels it too; feels the way you shake and writhe under his hands, the way you scream and groan in strangled, desperate cries. He knows you can’t hold it anymore, and he doesn’t want you to.

“Cum, baby.”

You don’t need to be held twice; your orgasm overtakes you so quickly you almost drown in it, washing over you and bursting at the seams as you finally let go, releasing everything onto his hand and the seat. You don’t even care what you must look like, or even how much you’re going to have to pay the poor driver to clean it up. All you care about is Mingi; the way he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, low voice guiding and praising you through it though he knows you’re so fucked out you won’t understand him — Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. His name is all you can think of, all you can scream as you cum over his fingers.

When you come down, chest rising and falling in panted breaths, Mingi is holding you in his arms, muttering lovingly in your ear. Your panties and sweatpants are back in place and if it weren’t for the pool of juices on the chair next to you, it would almost seem like nothing had happened back here.

When the car pulls up at the hotel, Mingi helps you out before strolling round to the driver’s side, handing him another wad of cash. He mutters what sounds like an apology before walking back towards you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. “C’mon, babe,” he says. “Let’s get you on your knees, yeah?”

—————

small thing since i haven’t posted in a bit, forgive any errors please! i had a sudden health scare recently so haven’t been able to come online much but im all good now. reblog & comment if you enjoyed. requests are open! love🖤🖤🖤

[katsu28]

hi my lovely kait!

i saw your requests were open and i actually was thinking about if ive ever requested smth from you before (i think maybe once but im not sure)

i was wondering if i could get ‘Kissing away their tears’ with charles but i wouldn’t mind if you wanted to do it with anyone else as well! i’ve been craving some hurt/comfort.

love you and have an amazing day <33

hali!!! love u love u thank u for being so sweet <3 here's some hurt and (hopefully) some comfort for u!

charles leclerc x reader, 1.4k. request something from here!

You can tell that Charles is dejected the moment he climbs out of the car. He doesn’t have that spring in his step he usually gets after an exhilarating race, and his feet drag on the asphalt as he trudges over to the weighing station with the rest of the grid, barring the podium goers. 

Carlos finished high up in the points, which is a win for Ferrari and you know Charles is happy for him, but you can’t imagine what it must feel like to constantly miss out on points and positions while his teammate consistently comes out in the top five every time. 

Formula One is a different breed of competition—your teammate might be your friend, but they’re also one of your biggest rivals. You fight to keep your seat, race after race, season after season, and this downhill spiral Charles has been in ever since his home win has been disheartening to say the least. 

You don’t know much about the strategy of it all, but you know Ferrari’s hasn’t been working out for him. He’s had a rough go of it lately, and your heart hurts for him. 

Charles looks up to where he knows you are, lifting his hand in a haphazard wave at you before being ushered away to the media pen. You’ll wait for him where you always meet him after races.

Somehow, he looks even more defeated than before as he trudges into his driver room after post race interviews conclude. He throws his paddock pass off to the side. You’re sitting up on the countertop, legs swinging mindlessly, only stilling when Charles shuts the door behind him. 

“Hey,” You say softly, gently. 

“Hi. Thank you for coming.” He tries his attempt at a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. You hold out your arms, and immediately, Charles steps forward, folding himself into your embrace. You know Charles well enough to know that he won't believe you if you compliment him right now, so you don’t. You sit with him in the heavy silence instead, waiting for him to make the first move. “I’m sorry I could not do better.” 

“You did the best you could with what you were given, Charles,” You say assuringly, rubbing a hand over his shoulders. He sighs long and hard, like you’re just telling him what he wants to hear. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Can we just go back to the hotel now?” He asks quietly, muffled because of how his face is buried into your neck. “I’m done for today. Anything else can wait until tomorrow.” 

“Of course,” You hum, carding a gentle hand through his hair one more time before releasing him. Before he can get too far, you kiss him, short and sweet. He smiles then too, a little bigger than before, but still quite sad. 

Charles puts on a pleasant facade as you make your way through the paddock back to the car park, taking pictures with waiting fans, signing things for them if he can reach them like most drivers do whilst leaving the track. Most of them are sweet to him. They tell him to keep his head up and believe, that a few bad races don’t discredit how talented of a driver he is. 

There’s a few hecklers as usual, upset fans who’d made bets on Charles’ performance and lost that money, people who say he could be doing so much better—as if them telling him that would magically make everything alright again. You give your own deadpan stare to that lot from where you hover a good distance away from him, not caring that they can definitely see you. 

Charles may be media trained, but you’re not. You have no problems with shutting up a few twats with your expertly crafted death glare. Fred Vasseur might call you in for a meeting with the PR team if he sees the photos on social media, but you don’t care. 

The car ride back to the hotel is understandably silent, but Charles still holds your hand tightly, rubbing absentminded circles along your skin because it soothes him, every so often lifting it to press a kiss to your knuckles. You don’t push him to talk, and you don’t think you need to. You know him well enough to know he’ll let you in when he’s ready. 

Dinner is room service and holds a little more conversation, though you can tell Charles is still off in his own world, thinking about everything that’s gone wrong these past few races, wondering if he could’ve done anything to get a better outcome. 

You come out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth, well and ready to go to sleep and forget this day, but instead you find your boyfriend sitting at the end of the bed, hunched over with his head in his hands. At the sound of the door opening, he looks up, and you can tell he’s been trying hard not to cry. 

Glassy eyes stare back at you, the beautiful green eyes that you adore filled with so much pain and sadness it makes you want to cry too. His teeth dig hard into his bottom lip, but it still wobbles just the slightest. 

It isn’t until you’re across the room, sliding on your knees to hug him against you that the final string holding Charles up snaps, and he leans into you heavily, pressing his face against your shoulder with a shuddering breath. He cries and cries, and you let him, holding him as tight as you can just so he knows you’ve got him. 

You’ve always got him. 

His body shakes with silent sobs, hot tears soaking into your shirt, and all you can do is murmur quiet reassurances into his ear, even if the feeling of wet cotton against your skin makes you want to peel yourself out of it. Charles needs this, needs to let it all out so he can focus on what lies ahead without being dragged down by the past. 

Eventually, his sobs come to a hiccupping stop. He lifts his head, red rimmed eyes meeting your own tearful ones. His nose is even running a little bit, and if it were anyone else you’d push them away, but it’s Charles. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t know why…” He trails off without finishing his sentence, seemingly at a loss for words. 

“Oh, my love,” You sigh, stroking both thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. You press your lips against his, hoping it can convey just how much you love him without you having to even utter the words, wiping away his tears gently before drawing back to look at him. As much as you hate it when Charles cries, he’s pretty like this. Tears cling to long, dark lashes, mussed hair a soft tornado of brown from how your fingers had been running through it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. And you never have to explain anything to me, yes? I’m here for you, always, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, leaning back in with his forehead against yours. “Thank you, mon amour. Your support, your love, it means everything to me. You are why I can keep doing this. ” 

You shake your head. “No I’m not.” Charles cocks his head, and you poke his chest, right over his heart. “That is why you can keep doing this.” 

One more poke, this one softer and on his forehead. “And this. Your mind and your heart, your determination, your strength, that is why you keep going. You are the most hard working, talented, brilliant driver I’ve ever seen. You can bounce back from whatever this is, and you will. But not because of me, because that’s the kind of person you are.” 

Charles pats the spot next to him and you oblige, looping your arm through his once you’re there, leaning against his shoulder now. He lays a lingering kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of appreciation towards you. He appreciates you more than he can put into words sometimes, a fact that hasn’t and will never change.  

Even though he’s still frustrated and sad and upset, this silence seems considerably lighter as you sit with him. You hope for brighter days ahead, and you’ll always try your best to be his strongest support system, no matter what the future holds.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[annymation]

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 11- Into The Eye Of A Storm

Chapter 10

The rain was falling down, and thunder could be heard humbling over Rosas.

Aster struggled to free himself from the king's chains that are coming from his staff, but to no avail.

The king just looked down on the star as he held him close to his face, so he began to speak casually:

"So, "Aster" was it? Hehehe I gotta say though, naming yourself just "Star" in Greek? Maybe not your... "Brightest" moment, hum? AH! HA HA HA" The king laughs at his own pun. He completely moved on from the bad mood he was in earlier "OH- I'm on a ROLL today!"

Aster ignores the bad joke as he keeps trying to use his magic to free himself. But their powers aren't responding to him, he's not able to shrink, nor glow brighter, nor unlock the chains, nothing. All he can do is fly and even that feels weaker.

"UGH- Why can't I-"

"Feel your power?" The king finishes their sentence "Dark magic: versatile, easy to use, but somehow oh sooo unappreciated. But I'm sure your magic isn't anything to sneeze at neither, right?" He grabs Aster's face with one hand and makes the star look at him "Care to share a little bit of it? Promise I'll give it back." He says with a very obviously faux gentle tone.

"Yeah right, if you take away my magic you're gonna KILL me!" Aster looks at him furiously.

"Oh you know that? Aw shucks, really thought I could trick ya... But then again" His grin widens "I think you'll come to find that you don't have a choice in the matter"

Asha is still on the top of the building, even though Aster begged her to run.

“LET GO OF HIM!”

Magnifico ignores her like she’s not even there. He’s floating about 2 meters away from where she’s standing.

He’s focused on analyzing the star closely while holding his face “Hmm and what a fascinating form you’ve chosen, it’s like you’re her little hero in cape and everything? How sweet.” He says in a mocking way while pinching his cheek “Though you surely look a lot more… Childlike than I expected, say, how old are you?”

Aster is still fighting but he doesn’t see why not answer the question “Eighteen.”

“18 what, boy? 18 hundred? 18 thousand? Be specific.” The king says nonchalantly.

Aster kinda stops struggling for a second and just gives the king a confused glance “… Well, if you want specifics, I’m 17, but I’m turning 18 in like 2 weeks from now so-”

“Wa-wait you’re serious?” The king interrupts him, staring at him in disbelief. The star nods… Magnifico quickly turns his attention to the girl below them and yells at her in frustration “ASHA! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? MILLIONS OF STARS IN THE SKY AND YOU WISHED UPON A WEAK LITTLE RUNT?! THIS THING IS A BABY” He says while shaking Aster side to side by the chains on his wrists like a rag doll, making the star a bit dizzy.

(A reminder that this man can switch from threatening to comedic at any second and I love it. Like he’s complaining to her like she just got him the wrong pizza toppings.)

“IF THEY’RE NOT WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR THEN LET THEM GO!” Asha exclaims at him, her face is filled with rage.

Magnifico calms down and looks back to the star in his hands like he’s pondering his next move “Hmmmmm… Nah.” He shrugs with a smile “Beggars can’t be choosers I suppose. Besides, this just means he’s too weak to fight back. Isn’t that right, little one?” The king asks with a wicked grin while looking deep into the star’s eyes.

That comment made Aster frown a little.

Even though it’s raining, a few people start gathering bellow where they are to see what’s going on.

Magnifico smiles widely at that. He speaks quietly so just Aster can hear:

“Ooooh looks like we have an audience. Do me a kindness and try to look as defeated and pathetic as you can, okay? I could really use the positive image right now.” Aster has a sad face “Perfect! you’re a natural.” He says like Aster and him are about to perform a scene together in a play.

Asha is looking side to side trying to think on what to do… She notices something on the floor.

The king walks on the air to get few feet down, so his people can better hear him.

(Now let me explain how exactly Magnifico’s flying works, he’s not floating around like Aster does, he’s much more “standing” while underneath his feet there’s a green light, like he just created the steps of a stair. If you watched Onward you know what I mean, it’s exactly like this)

(So I guess Onward reference, huh, who would’ve thought, a Pixar reference at last, took me long enough.)

“REJOICE MY PEOPLE!” the king exclaims ecstatic “Our little “Wish stealing star” issues have been resolved much earlier than expected!” That got a reaction from Aster, his face became furious once again “Like I said, you can always count on me t-“

Aster screamed on the king’s face “THE ONLY WISH STEALER HERE IS YOU! YOU LYING SNA- HMmH!” The king used his magic to keep the boy’s mouth shut.

“Oh-ho and it’s FEISTY TOO! Heheh- GOOD! I was worried this would be way too easy-“

🪕B L A M🎶

“OUCH! AAAH!”

The crowd gasps.

Something just hit the king’s head and made him lose focus on the flying spell. He falls on the floor.

… Asha just threw her Saba’s mandolin on Magnifico’s face, she’s standing on top of the building breathing deeply, relieved that it was a perfect shot.

Aster is free from the chains.

The star doesn’t skip a beat and flies to Asha immediately, holding her in his arms bridal style.

“Hold on tight!” Aster says.

The two fly off in the rain.

We cut to King Magnifico laying face first on the floor.

He didn’t fall from too high up but it was still quite painful.

The crowd is all around him, worried for their king.

Queen Amable rushes to where he is, with some guards pushing the people aside to let her pass.

“DARLING!! OH MY- ANYTHING HURT??” The queen asks genuinely worried, as she sits on her knees next to him.

“… Just my pride.” His voice is muffled, because his face is still laying on the floor. He begins to stand up as he asks “Ugh- quick, how’s my face?” He asks his wife while touching his own face to feel if there’s any injuries.

“As handsome as always, mi rey” The queen coos, caressing his cheek lovingly.

His eyes light up as his excitement returns to him at full force.

“THEN NO HARM DONE!” He exclaims, smiling like a mad man, he’s high on the adrenaline of the hunt.

He stands up quickly to go catch those teens.

“A little bump in the road, sure! But no need for panic everyone!” The king announces to the people around “Just remain in doors and stay calm, things may get a little... Messy hehehe" He chuckles, thinking of all the forbidden and deadly spells he'll finally have an excuse to use.

He uses his staff to run upwards on thin air, he just can't wait to kill those two teens but-

He feels something pulling his cape.

He looks down.

... Amaya is holding his cape, looking at him worriedly... As in, ACTUALLY worried.

He looks at her puzzled, but his eyes for the first time show a gleam of humanity as he looks down on the love of his life.

"... Just... Be careful." She says, glancing at the storm above them.

... Magnus gives her a comforting smile as he removes his cape, it'll be easier to fly without it weighting him down.

He hands the cape to her, whispering softly "I'll be back before you know it."

...

And up he goes.

Amaya is holding his cape tightly...

She has a bad feeling about this.

...

Okay, so now you guys might think Asha and Aster successfully skedaddled from the king's grasp because he took too long on the ground, right?

Well I'm sorry to say but you thought wrong. Here's what was happening with our heroes while this was taking place.

Aster is flying with Asha in his arms, they're going back to the forest, his cape leaves a trail of light.

He sounds quite traumatized as he says:

"HOW DID THAT CREEP MANAGE TO DECEIVE A WHOLE KINGDOM FOR YEARS?? HE'S SCARIER THAN A VAMPIRE STAR!"

(Vampire stars: stars that sucks the outer layers of material from a companion star, stripping their "bitten" victim down to a mere stellar core.

This is a real thing, and now I'm adding to the lore of wishing stars that there are these evil vampire stars that suck away other wishing star's powers... We have fun here.)

"Welcome to Rosas," (🎶Come on, come this way- sorry) "Where everyone just sees what they want to see." Asha says with a saddened expression. She's looking down on her kingdom as they fly away.

She looks at the castle in the distance...

"Wait... Aster, we gotta go to the castle!" Asha tells him determined

The star stops flying abruptly.

"UUUH Why???" Aster asks her in shock, this is kinda deja vu to that other time she suggested they should run to the castle.

"You can un-curse wishes!" She exclaimed "You un-cursed my wish! We can save A LOT of people if we go in there and you use your magic on as many as you can!"

Now usually Aster would be more than happy to do just that... But he's still a bit shaken by the whole encounter with the king, he's afraid he might catch up to them.

"Asha... I'm not sure we-"

"We can do this, he flies way slower than you, if we hurry we can get there before him." She looks into Aster's eyes, she's full of hope that they can at least save some of her people.

Aster can see her light shining brighter.

"... Then we better hurry." He gives her a trusting smile.

He turns around, flying towards the castle as fast as possible.

As they're reaching the castle, there's indeed no sign of Magnifico.

They get near the window of the wishes room.

"See? Told you we could do it." Asha says with a smile

"Yeah... I guess I am a lot faster than him." He says while flying to get through the window "Now let's do this quick before- OUCH!" Aster hits something when he tries to get in...

There's a green forcefield that manifested on the open window when Aster tries getting through it.

"What th-" Aster tries to hit it to get his hand through but the magic seems to be as strong as concrete, he groans in frustration.

Asha’s smile immediately fell into a scowl.

“oooOOOH SERIOUSLY?!” Asha screams.

“Why, yes. I do take the safety of my people’s wishes very seriously.”

… Take a wild guess on who’s standing behind them with a smug grin…

As soon as Aster hears the king’s voice he JUMPS and flies to the roof of the tower.

He’s holding Asha tightly as he KICKS the roof with his two feet to push himself away from the castle, thus flying away even faster.

Magnifico simply smiles as he uses his staff to once again summons a green hand.

The hand moves quickly through the rain.

Aster is flying as fast as he can but-

The hand catches him.

Asha falls from his arms.

She screams as she falls down.

“NO!” Aster yells in desperation.

Magnifico is now right next to him, smiling maliciously.

“Ah the stars look so pretty when they fall, don’t they?”

Aster’s legs are still free, so he KICKS the staff from Magnifico’s hand, making the king lose focus on the spell.

Aster is freed and flies down almost at the speed of light

It’s a shame the moment was so quick, maybe Aster would’ve noticed Magnifico almost stopped floating when the staff left his hand for a second…

“… That was close…” Magnifico said under his breath

Aster catches Asha in his arms.

“YOU OKAY??” He asks terrified.

“NOPE” She says shaken to her core. Holding him tightly.

Aster weights their options in his head… If they go to to the forest the king is just gonna follow them, he won’t give up on getting his power…

His power.

That’s what the king wants, not Asha.

…

He’s gonna have to break Rule number 1 again.

“Asha, listen.” The Star calls her attention, sounding more serious than ever “We gonna have to split up again, but I PROMISE I’ll come back before you know it.”

Asha looks at him confused.

“What?”

His animation looks more sketchy, like it’s unfinished.

“I’ll send you to the forest, very deep into it, so he can’t find you, I’ll just keep him busy for a-“

“NO! You can’t fight him off! You gotta stay AWAY from him.” She’s holding him by the cape.

“I know, but it’s the only way I can keep you safe.”

He lets her go from his arms, making her float with his magic.

“ASTER WAIT!”

“I’ll know where to find you… I’m sorry.”

He stops flying away.

And makes his star dust cary her, flying away deep into the forest.

Asha is looking back at him in the verge of tears.

All Aster can do is sigh.

…

Alright.

Time to fight a sorcerer king.

That happens to be right behind him, again.

“You know there are wolves in those woods, right?” Magnifico asks sarcastically as he floats like he's laying down on thin air.

Aster turn around quickly and uses his star dust to make several swords.

He throws them at the king and-

*Poof*

They just disappear into glittery smoke when they touch him.

“PFFT AHAHAHAHAAH STOP IT- I didn’t sign up for a tickle fight! Hahah” Magnifico holds his sides as he laughs

Aster is stunned.

“W-what? How did y-“

The king casted another spell to capture Aster, but this time the star dodges it.

Aster flies upwards.

The king follows with a wicked smile.

Aster doesn't understand, why didn’t that work?... Maybe the king was just expecting it and shielded himself? Yeah. That’s gotta be it.

He tries again, this time trying to do what the king did to him before, creating chains made of star dust to tie him down.

When the chains reach Magnifico, he just dust them off his body with his hand like it’s nothing.

… Aster is pretty peeved to say the least. His animation seems more sketchy and rough.

“HOW IS THIS FAIR? Your dark magic thing makes my powers useless!” Aster exclaims while he flies away from the king.

“Ha! You think THIS is because of my magic?! Boy, come on, I know you’re young, but don’t tell me I actually know more about your kind than YOU do!”

Aster keeps flying away, but he looks back at the king as he asks “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Let me "enlighten you", little one.”

He charges up a lightning spell.

“Your magic is made out of… JOY!

⚡️

Aster manages to dodge the lightning.

“GOODNESS!”

⚡️

Aster barely managed to escape the second one

“AND LIGHT!”

⚡️

“AGH!”

Aster didn’t dodge this last one. Their chest has a hole in it now…

That didn’t feel like that time Valentino jumped through him, this actually hurts... A lot.

Magnifico takes the opportunity to capture him again, this time tying him up with a snake made out of green magic.

Aster doesn’t have time to react before he’s wrapped in the snake’s grip.

There's the sound of thunder near them.

Magnifico approaches him slowly, now that the boy is held still in one place.

“And those things- Well, they can’t really hurt anyone, now can they? Heh heh” Magnifico is now flying right next to the star “So... I’m afraid there's little you can do to defend yourself, or anyone else.” He makes a little pout as if to fake pity.

… Aster never knew his magic couldn’t hurt others… Then again, hurting others was never something that crossed his mind before he met this man.

“… If it’s only made of good things then… Why do you want it so bad?” Aster asks

Magnifico’s eyes light up with the question.

“Oooh because it just needs to be wielded by the RIGHT person, my boy. Yes, in you, this magic is very limited because your heart is pure… But in me and my beloved queen however… We’ll be able to do ANYTHING.” He leans in closer to look at the star straight in the eyes as he adds “And that includes hurting the petulant little brat that wished upon you~”

Aster feels a chill run down his whole body. He couldn’t let that happen.

He tried to struggle out of the snake's grip.

Magnifico is amused by the star's determination.

“Heh heh stubborn just like her, aren’t you?”

“YEAH! SHE IS STUBBORN, AND YOU KNOW WHAT?! EVEN IF YOU DO STEAL MY POWER, YOU CAN’T STOP HER, SHES GONNA INSPIRE EVERYONE IN THAT KINGDOM TO RISE UP AGAINST YOU!” Aster exclaims with no doubt that Asha can do it, even without his help.

“Now what are you blabbering about insp- … Wait” Magnifico looks at nothing as he starts connecting the dots “Don’t tell me- That little performance you two were doing at the plaza…” a smile starts creeping in his face, and he starts trying to hold in a laugh “was -pffff- waS THAT AN ATTEMPT TO- HAHAH TO “INSPIRE” THOSE PEASANTS?!” The king has a maniacal smile.

… Aster doesn’t respond, he just avoids eye contact.

“*GASP* IT WAS! WASN’T IT?! OH- HAHAHAHAH” He lets out an evil laugh that echoes through the storm.

Aster tries not paying attention to what Magnifico says.

He tries looking at anything else, the rain, the lightning strikes in the distance, the king's staff...

Wait.

“OH- oh that’s hahha! That’s too good! OH and let me guess, that was YOUR idea, wasn’t it?!”

Aster already muted Magnifico's voice in his head, he looks closely to the staff... It seems to be made of...

Copper.

Aster hears another thunder.

The boy has a realization… This man is not smart.

Said man holds the star’s face, so he looks at him in the eyes.

“And here I was expecting that the girl got some WISE and MIGHTY guide from the sky! But NOPE! All she got was YOU, a naive little boy that doesn't know ANYTHING about how the world works!" The king has a deranged grin ear to ear as his grip on the boy's face tightens.

"Did you actually think that SINGING and DANCING would change ANYTHING?! Honestly, how much of a FOOL are you?!"

...

The star's face crescents into... A smile.

And the king hear's something that he REALLY didn't expect to hear from the boy.

"...pffft hihihi hi hi he- hehe heeh he heh ahah aahha aha ha HAHAH HAHAHAHA HAHAHA AHAAAHHAHAAHHAHHAHA"

The star boy is just laughing… It’s a youthful and free spirited laugh.

Magnifico's evil glee is replaced by bewilderment. He blinks a few times as the boy keeps laughing in his face.

... Did he just break this kid?... Already? After just knowing him for less than an hour?... Well, that sure is a new record for the king.

Magnifico looks frustrated as he asks "What's so funny?"

Aster calms down, and simply looks at the king with a playful smile as he explains

"Hehe oh nothing it's just that- heh heh yeah, I may be a fool but..." Aster's smile turns into cheeky smirk, and there's a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he says confidently:

"At least I'm not the IDIOT that brought a stick made of copper... Into the eye of a storm."

Magnifico's eyes widens.

And at the same time that realization hits him... Something else hits him too.

And all he has time to say is:

"Oh no-"

(hahahaAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH aaaah… I waited 11 chapters to write this by the way.)

The king’s staff is hit by a lightning bolt, sending shockwaves through his body.

A painful scream echos above the Kingdom of Rosas.

“MAGNUS!!!”

The queen exclaimed in horror.

... Just as she feared... He got carried away.

Needless to say, Aster’s body is freed from the king’s grasp. The boy watches as the man plummets along with the rain drops.

Aster isn’t smiling anymore, even he is shaken by what just happened, even though he saw it coming.

But he has no time to dwell on this now, he has a friend to find in the forest. So off he goes, leaving a trail of star dust behind him, like a shooting star.

…

But we’ll be focusing on Asha and Aster’s reencounter in the next chapter.

Now. Let’s focus our attention on what’s happening down in Rosas.

…

We see the bare foots of the queen running franticly through the dampened streets of her kingdom, she left her high heels behind her.

She's lifting her long skirt up so she can run faster.

Her hair is soaked and messy... Her crown falls on the ground.

She doesn't care, the crown doesn't matter, nothing matters. All that matters to her is finding him.

She’s desperate. An emotion never yet displayed by the relentless queen before.

The guards are trying to keep up with her, as well as other citizens.

She sees people gathered in a circle, the queen pushes through them violently to find what they’re all looking at.

“OUT OF MY WAY!” She yells, her voice is a high pitched screech full of anguish.

The people quickly let her through as they realize who she is.

Amaya finally gets through the people to find…

King Magnifico is laying face first on the floor. Just like before.

“MAGNUS!" The queen runs to his body and hugs it.

He must have used a protection spell, right? He just want to make the star look worse in the eyes of their people, right? Yes, that has to be it.

She tries to take some deep breaths while holding him.

"I-I'm here my love... You may rise now"

No response.

"... Mi vida?... This isn't funny... I know you used a spell to shield yourself... Didn't you?"

She's still not facing him, his face is still laying down on the floor.

A guard approaches from behind her

"... Your highness, we must take the king to the doctor at once-"

"NO- NO HE- he's alright, he-he's just being dramatic, like always ah haha right, my love?"

She starts turning his body so she can see his face.

"Co-come on Magnus, you wouldn't want to keep our people-" She sees his face, a few people in the crowd gasp "... Waiting"

There's a scar.

The king's left eye has a huge scar.

Amaya caresses his face.

...

She hesitates as she places a hand on his chest...

She can't feel a heart beat.

His cold heart stopped.

The king is dead.

...

Final Thoughts

.

.

.

OOOOH I'M KIDDING HAHAHA- this isn't the end of the chapter yet :)

But it could be the ending though, right?

I mean, the villain died, Aster even gave a cheeky smile and a final line the likes of "And everything that comes with it" from Alladin.

In a Disney movie, you defeat the villain and the story can wrap up, right?

What more there is to it?

... Well, this rewrite is meant to feel like a proper Disney 100th anniversary movie, so this ain't your typical Disney movie.

And King Magnifico is supposed to the 100th anniversary Disney villain, so he ain't your typical Disney villain.

No... He has something that no other villain in the Disney pantheon had.

He has love.

And what is love?

Love is, and always will be, the most powerful thing on earth. That's what Disney taught us for 100 years.

So... What happens when the villains have love?

This is what I think happens:

...

Queen Amable’s eyes widen as it becomes undeniably clear… Magnus is dead.

... The rain now is dying down, becoming a drizzle...

She hears the sound of her people mourning for their king, crying and lamenting the tragedy.

...No...

She would not mourn. To mourn would be to accept that he's gone. And she knows him well enough to know that's not what he'd want. No.

She would never give up on him.

All this time she was worried about what these people would think of them, and now here they are, pathetically crying and moaning... They are weak...

She and her beloved don't need them. They never did. All they need is one another. It no longer mattered to her what they thought of her. It no longer mattered if they became afraid of her. It no longer mattered if they didn't love her anymore.

HIS love is all the love she needs.

And so, in this moment. She didn't care in the slightest about showing aaaaall these people... Why in the past they weren't kidding when they called her, well...

A witch.

Amaya suddenly get's up. Surprising the people around with how quickly she did so.

She RIPS the second layer of her long dress, revealing that inside there were many hidden pockets, each one with a small flask of colorful potions that she caries around for emergencies... Such as this.

The crowd gasps in surprise, they all stare at the queen in confusion.

She takes two of the flasks and begins mixing them, her face is cold and focused:

"Phoenix ashes mixed with two drops of scarab beetle juice" The queen says to herself under her breath.

She takes another flask from her skirt

"Newt saliva to heal the heart" She empties the flask and throws it on the ground, breaking it.

Another guard tries to talk to her:

"Uh- umm your majesty what are y-"

"Silence." She tells him, her tone is as sharp as a dagger.

She proceeds to name another ingredient.

"A tear of grief." She says as she takes one tear from her eye, and it really is one single tear.

She stops for a moment as if to remember the next ingredient... She remembers.

Her face turns to the confused citizens and shouts:

"I NEED A CHILD WITH LONG HAIR! NOW!" Her voice echoes, almost louder than the thunder from the storm.

The people are startled, their queen is usually so quiet and gentle, seeing her like this is like seeing a whole different person.

"QUICKLY! I DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME BEFORE THE SOUL COMPLETELY LEAVES HIS CORPSE!" She yells at them furiously.

"He-here!" A woman emerges from the crowd holding her daughter, a little girl with long blonde hair and green eyes.

(Because you bet I'll fit in a Tangled reference in this serious and tense scene)

The queen walks quickly to the girl and plucks a strand of hair, which the girl responds with a little "Ow!"

Amaya measures the hair strand with her fingers

"... This will give him about 10 years... Good enough." She says to herself as she puts the hair inside the flask.

A puff of smoke comes out from the flask... The potion is ready.

... It won't be long now.

She walks to her beloved husband, holding the potion in her hands.

She sits next to him... She pets his hair as she looks at his lifeless but still gorgeous face, scar and all. She looks at him with a wistful smile and...

She drinks the potion.

The crowd looks in shock.

Amaya coughs a few times, by the looks of it the potion tasted terrible... But it would be worth it.

She looks back to her king and says in a whisper

"And now, the most important step... True love's kiss."

She kisses him.

The people in the crowd look hopeful, everyone has read in fairytales what a true love's kiss is.

... But Amaya's magic isn't the same as the magic of a fairy... Oh no no no. When it comes to dark magic, you can't simply gain something for free... All dark magic does is take. And it does take something away from Amaya... Something she values a lot.

As she kisses their king, the people start to notice something is happening to their queen...

Her hair get's whiter, with a prominent white hair streak growing from her roots and embracing her whole braided hair.

(Because you bet I'll ALSO reference Anna's hair, from Frozen!)

Not only that, but her hands and face become more wrinkled.

... The queen is aging rapidly.

The people look horrified, worried they might get their king back but lose their queen

(And let me tell ya folks, that would be a TERRIBLE thing to happen because then our boy King Mag would straight up kill everyone in Rosas and then himself... Again.)

But the queen suddenly stops the kiss, she lifts her head up taking deep breaths, exhausted after giving away 10 years of her life to her love...

She looks 60 years old now.

... The king is still motionless...

...

The crowd is staring in anticipation.

...

Magnifico's eye's are shot open.

"*GAAAAAASP* *COUGH* COUGH*"

He sit's up quickly as he coughs while gasping for air.

"Shhhhh there there darling, just take some deep breaths now" The queen coos gently, her previous cold hearted demeanor vanished in an instant, and she's once again the kind and loving queen they all know her to be.

The crowd cheers and applauds the queen for successfully bringing the king back to life.

And said king is... Very lost on what on earth just happened, as he places a hand on his head and his eyes are closed, he seems to be in a lot of pain.

"UGhhh... My head-"

"Does it hurt? I can make something to help with that... Healing your face however, may prove to be more of a challenge." The queen says while petting his back.

The king's eyes widen at the comment, he quickly turns to look at his wife for the first time since he came back to life

"What's that about my fa- *gasp*" He get's startled when he sees HER face.

His queen is changed... She's smiling at him, which show even more all her new wrinkles... The white hair streak is very noticeable on her crown-less messy and soaked wet hair.

Magnifico stares at her incredulous... He starts connecting the dots in his head, as he also remembers what happened to him...

"... Amaya... What did you do?" He says as he places a hand on her cheek gently. His eyes are full of worry.

The queen stops smiling... She instinctively tries covering her face with her hands.

Magnus immediately holds her hands, as he looks her deep in the eyes and reassures her "You are... And ALWAYS will be the fairest queen of all, and no curse in this world or any other can change that for me." He says with certainty.

... Even though it's raining, by the queen's expression it's clear that she teared up with that comment.

The king wraps his arms around her gently, like she could turn into dust at any moment.

"... I'm so sorry that I failed you... This never EVER should've happened... But I swear to you, my love" His voice goes cold "I will not fail you... Ever again."

... He would not let himself get carried away again...

That girl is going to pay.

And that star will be theirs.

King Magnifico realizes they're still being watched... They'll continue this tender moment later. Now, he better make the most of the situation, after all, him being literally MURDERED by the star boy certainly helps his side of the narrative.

The king tries to get up but his legs are still feeling a bit numb, his body is still getting used to the fact that it's up and running again. Two guards help him stand up. And they also hand him his magic staff that was laying next to him

Magnifico is now standing up with his wife holding him tightly.

He takes a deep breath to start one of those long and inspiring speeches of his:

"People of Rosas... It seems even I underestimated just how vicious the enemy we're facing really is... The fallen star thought he could kill the heart of this kingdom, but as you can all see, this HEART is still beating! And it shall remain like this for many years to come!" The king says proudly.

The people cheer in unison. Some saying "Long live the king".

... Probably not the best time for Amaya to tell him she could only give him more 10 years soooo he's not getting past 65.

"Rosas shall never fall! For we are the kingdom of HOPE! And NO force in this world can stop-"

"*COUGH COUGH* Aah"

The king's speech is cut short, as the queen starts coughing and her legs go weak.

"Woah woah Amaya?" Magnifico looks worried as he holds her closer to him, stopping her from falling.

The people gasp in surprise

The king holds her close to him and whispers "Heh heh no need for theatrics my love, th-they're already on our side" Magnifico says, hoping the queen is just being dramatic to gain even more sympathy from them.

"... It's not pretending" She whispers to him "I feel... Weak."

(If this was a movie, the whole internal dialogue that will happen now, as well as Amaya's internal dialogue that happened earlier, would be just their expressions changing from worried to serious in a few seconds, and just by their expressions and the music the audience would be able to tell that this is a "Oh, they snapped" moment)

...

Only in that moment Magnus really starts to process what just happened.

He... DIED.

Just like that... He could've left her... Alone... Forever.

And why did he die?... Because he wanted to impress these people. He wanted to make a big spectacle about capturing that star. They made him weaker.

Not only that, but their love and loyalty was flimsy. It took only ONE GIRL speaking in front of a crowd for some people to start questioning him... Clearly, he and his queen are doing this all wrong.

All this time, pretending and deceiving to gain the love of these people, so they'd trust him with their wishes... But the situation changed. Once he harness that star's power, they'll have no use for these people anymore, will they?

So why be loved... When they can be feared?

It's not like he needs their love anyway.

HER love is all the love he needs.

And so, in this moment. He didn't care in the slightest about showing aaaaall these people... Why he wasn't chosen to be the heir to the throne.

...

The king's face morphs from worried to stoic, as he caresses his wife's hair gently.

The people are looking at him, expecting him to continue the speech.

But instead, Magnifico addresses one specific guard that is standing next to some others

"Captain O'Danohue." The king's voice is emotionless, he's still looking down to his wife while talking to the soldier.

The captain steps forward.

"Yes sire." The captain is a tall and large man with a beard and ginger hair just like Simon's

"Where did that star and that girl go?" Magnifico is still not making eye contact with the man

"They were seen flying to the forest, your majesty."

"Good, good. Send all your men to search for them immediately."

"Right away, your majesty. Do not worry, we'll-"

"And if they're not found til tomorrow night your men will burn that whole forest down." The king added, still talking monotonously.

That gets a few surprised looks from the people around them

The captain of the royal guard is taken aback by this "... Pardon me sire but I think I misun-"

The king finally takes his eyes off his wife to look at the captain with a bored expression "They can't hide in a forest if there's no forest, now can they?" He says like it's just common sense

The captain is perplexed "But- But what about the people that live there? There are houses in the woods."

"They have till tomorrow night to leave then." The king said simply "But of course, if that sounds too hard for you I can burn it down myself." Magnifico shrugs.

The people look shocked... The island's forest has been considered sacred for generations.

The king adds

"Oh, and speaking of "leaving", have your men also burn and destroy all the boats at the docks... No one get's in or out this kingdom until we find that star, was I clear?" He says while looking at the people around him this time.

Simon's father is speechless for a moment... The king seems to have lost his mind, but that's understandable, right? He died a few minutes ago.

The soldier tries to snap him out of it:

"My liege, with all due respect, I don't think-"

"Due respect?" Magnifico interrupts him once again, this time with a hint of anger creeping in his voice "I think you misunderstand captain. You all OWE ME all the respect you can possibly give, not only as your KING, but also as the one who MADE YOU who you are." He doesn't even raise his voice much, those words echo in the hearts of all the citizens that had their wishes granted "I didn't grant your wish of becoming my knight for you to THINK, O'Danohue, I did it for you to OBEY... Was I clear?" The king asks again.

The captain goes stiff.

He bows down to the king as he says "Crystal clear, your majesty."

... A sinister smile finally returns to the king's now scared face.

"There you go, that's a lot easier, isn't it?" The king says condescendingly.

That felt good... He should've done this a long time ago.

He looks down to his queen that he has been holding in his arms this whole time, she's looking up to him, also smiling wickedly.

They're on the same page, they won't pretend to be something they're not anymore.

That girl thought that truth would set these people free? Oh... They're more trapped than ever.

They both turn to look at their frightened and confused subjects.

The king’s glares at them as he says "... I believe it’s quite obvious what will happen to anyone who dares helping the traitor and the star" The green gem on the king's staff starts glowing "Right?"

The crowd all shakes their heads "Yes" quickly, as they know this is a threat.

The gem slowly stops glowing.

"Wonderful, that will be all then." He lifts the staff upward to hit it on the ground "And remember, Rosas... Just keep wishing." He has a subtle smile, this phrase is what he always says at the end of Wish ceremonies.

He hits the floor, creating a huge cloud of green smoke that engulfs him and Amaya, they teleport to the palace.

(I was gonna write Magnifico's reaction to his new scar... Buuuut I think I'll keep that off screen, I think you guys can imagine how he felt about it.)

...

The people of Rosas are at a loss.

Some think the king just went insane and it's all thanks to that star.

Other's think that he's right to take desperate measures to handle this threat.

And a few are now starting to realize that maybe they've been lied to this whole time and the king has always been a bad person.

No one is quite sure what to think of this.

...

Except for a certain group of teens... And a goat.

Who went inside to get cover from the rain just before the king went after Aster... So they didn't see the whole ordeal that just happened.

But they have seen enough to know exactly what side they're choosing to be on... Knowing what they know now.

...

Note that I didn't say how many teens are in that group.

Chapter 12

Final Thoughts

(for real this time)

... So ummmm... That was a lot, wasn't it? hahaha

I swear next chapter will be all about Asha and Aster and there will be WHOLESOME VIBES... After some sad vibes first.

Yeah, they gotta have a little heart to heart BUT it'll be more chill than THIS whole thing that just happened. In fact, from this point forward things should get a little bit more calm... For a while.

But now speaking on this chapter-

LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO CHARACTER DESING CHANGE!!!!

THE BROTHER KILLER HAS A SCAR!

THE WITCH LOOKS OLD!

REFERENCES ALL AROUND!!!

I usually don't say this, but ummm if I see fanart of King Magnifico with a scar on his left eye and Queen Amable looking older with a white hair streak it would be so awesome, it would be so cool... Just saying I would go insane, even more than I already am.

And the way I came up with this plot point weeks ago literally is the funniest thing, here's how my thought process went:

I want the confrontation in chapter 10 to feel tense... I'll say it's a cloudy day... Clouds bring rain... And rain brings a storm... And storms brings lightning... And lightning kills Disney villains... I'll kill Magnifico because he had it too good for too long. He needs to take an L. His actions have consequences.

SO THE NARRATIVE ESCALATED FROM:

"IT'S A CLOUDY DAY" TO "THE KING DIED."

LMAO

But seriously though, THIS is a big turning point for the villains.

Initially, they just wanted Aster's power for the sake of wanting it, because it would be fun to have it... Now? Now it's a NEED.

It's a need because they need immortality, Magnifico had a taste of his own mortality, and Amaya is older and weaker, they NEED to have that magic so they can live together forever. Have their happily EVER after, so to speak.

To me that feels more unique and compelling than just "We want power... Even though we already got it."

And speaking of Aster CAREFUL BOY! YOUR PETER PAN SIDE IS SHOWING!!! That laugh Aster let out is supposed to feel like a Peter Pan laugh by the way.

Yeah writing Aster and Magnifico's dynamic was SO MUCH FUN like wooooow you guys have no idea. It's Captain Hook and Peter Pan, it's Alladin and Jafar, it's Hercules and Hades, I wanna fit in all those vibes!!!

But let's address the elephant in the room... So true love's kiss, huh?

I just think it would be HILARIOUS if Disney not only gave us a villain couple for the first time ever... BUT ALSO USED THEM TO PROVE THE POINT THAT TRUE LOVE IS POWERFUL AS HECK.

I mean, they've shown us that

Over

And over

AND OVER

So I think having this classic trope happen, BUT TWIST IT in your 100th anniversary movie, would be pretty neat ya know? like, I think, you guys tell me, I don't know 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, this chapter was LOOOONG and full of emotions, mostly tense ones, but things are gonna chill a bit with Asha and Aster on the next one, I promise!

As always

Thank You For Reading!

[otgfmybeloved]

Pinescone Vampire AU!!!!

“Um, where’s the bathroom?” Wirt asked.

“Amon, show him to the bathroom,” Pacifica commanded, waving her hand. One of her security guards stepped forward from a darkened corner, like a wraith appearing from a shadow. Wirt nervously placed his napkin on the table and stood up.

Dipper watched Wirt go to make sure he was out of earshot before he leaned forward and said to Pacifica, as stern and serious as he could, “What can I do to keep you from killing him.”

It was rare to see Pacifica caught off guard. Her life was curated to her needs– no one ever took what was hers. And yet here Dipper was.

“What do you mean?” Pacifica asked. If Dipper wasn’t mistaken, there was a tone of intrigue in her voice.

“I mean… I mean I don’t want him to die,” Dipper said. He wasn’t sure what magic words he could say to make Pacifica agree. He just had to hope that after all these years she still had a heart. Pacifica watched him, her surprise growing with every word he spoke. “I just– I really like him, okay? I don’t know why I’m so drawn to him, but the thought of you… of you killing him makes me ill. I want… I want to know him.”

Pacifica’s mouth crept open into an incredulous smile. “Ah! Do you have a little crush, Dipper?”

“I– I don’t know,” Dipper admitted. “There’s just something about him.”

Pacifica squinted at him. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to steal my meal from me? I worked hard to get this one, just so you know. I picked him as a personal challenge.”

Dipper looked up in horror. “No! I couldn’t hurt him. I just don’t want him to die! I’m so serious, Paz.”

Pacifica regarded him quietly for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Fine. You can have him. But like I said, getting him wasn’t easy. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for weeks.”

“Thank you!” Dipper cried.

But Pacifica continued. “You can get what you want on one condition: that you actually try to score with him. I’m not letting you save his life for nothing. If I can’t get my pleasure out of him, you’d better be able to get yours. I’m doing this for you because I love you, and I know you, and I don’t want you to pass this opportunity up. Oh, and another condition. You perform at my next party.”

“What!”

Pacifica smirked and sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest. She closed her eyes and began to quietly sing the lyrics to Disco Girl, looking too pleased with herself. Dipper took the opportunity to quickly snag the wine glass from Wirt’s place at the table and hide it on the floor.

Pacifica opened her eyes. “You heard me, BABBA boy.”

Dipper covered his face with his hands. He would do anything. Even that. Even though he could hardly stomach the thought of it, it was a small price to pay for a life. He peeked at Pacifica through his fingers. “Fine.” He cleared his throat and placed his hands neatly on the table. “So why did you pick him?”

“For the challenge,” Pacifica shrugged. “He’s obviously not like the others. The humans I bring to dinner are so easy it’s laughable. I just walk up and say hello and it’s like they’re begging me to fuck and kill them. Wirt… my intentions with him were pure, at first. I really did need help with the new house. And he really is good. I was sad to see him go, so thanks, I guess. But he wouldn’t submit to me like the others. He wasn’t champing at the bit to sleep with me. He needed to be worn down, so I wore him down. It took months to get to the point where it seemed like he’d be down to fuck. Tonight was supposed to be the crescendo of our relationship, Dipper! But if you like him that much, you should do the honors, right? Maybe I should go for more normies in the future. I need that closure now. I like to finish what I start.”

Dipper struggled to empathize at all with Pacifica. He was just glad Wirt was safe. As if on cue, Wirt and the bodyguard returned. Both vampires smiled silently at him as he sat down. Dipper could hear Wirt’s breath catching, his heart pounding. They were being too weird. He had to say something normal.

“Hi,” Dipper said. Fuck. In what fucking world is that normal? What, next should I ask if he had a good piss?

Wirt smiled awkwardly at him and quickly looked away to smooth his napkin over his lap. “Hi.”

“Lord help us,” Pacifica grumbled.

[kutner-elegist]

this will be kutner related bc i love my idiot indian man. make him make thirteen eat spicy food. she dies. kutner doesn't even have a particularly high spice tolerance thirteen is simply white

apologies for not following your request exactly but lest we forget Kutner was raised by white parents eating white people food and to me Kutner is likely Gujarati and/or Punjabi gleaning from his late parents' names and also the fact that Kal Penn is Gujarati and those regions have less spicy foods compared to southern India and also Thirteen seems like she can take some spice (for a white person) so this is gonna be a bet (Hot Ones style if you've ever seen them) that comes close but Kutner wins only because he is more committed to the bit and masochistic than Thirteen (the end part got sad just so you know)

Kutner and Thirteen sat across from each other, both their countenances intense. They each had ten pieces of buffalo wings neatly lined up before them, with cold bottles of beer on the side for palate cleansing. In the center were ten different bottles of hot sauce. Quiet severity emanated from their staring match.

House towered over them at the head of the table. Foreman, Taub, Wilson and Cuddy were on the opposite side.

Foreman broke the silence. “What exactly are they doing again?”

Taub tilted his head, his eyebrows still raised. “They’re playing chicken with … chicken wings, I guess.”

“Hot wings,” Kutner emphasized.

“Kutner is Kutner, but why are you doing this?” Foreman said to Thirteen.

“He thinks I can’t handle spice because I’m white.”

“Why do you care—”

“Ask questions later,” House cut him off. “The game is on. Ante omnia, we must ensure that they haven’t used any performance enhancing drugs. Their blood was screened for painkillers, and Wilson watched them until the results came back all negative. If they used local anesthetics that might be undetectable such as Cetacaine, its effects should have worn off by now, but we still need to make sure.”

“You let them do blood tests for this?” Foreman asked Cuddy.

“They paid for it.” Cuddy shrugged.

“Shush.” House scolded Foreman. He then commanded, “Kutner, say ‘Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie.’”

“Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie,” Kutner obliged effortlessly.

“Now Thirteen.”

“Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie,” Thirteen glided through the tongue twister as well.

House held up one of the hot sauce bottles, the label facing the spectators. “We shall begin with Cholula Original, around 1000 in the Scoville scale. On your mark, get set, eat!”

They bit into their chicken wings. In the blink of an eye, they were both holding defleshed bones.

“This isn’t even spicy.” Kutner put down the bone.

“It’s regular stuff,” Thirteen agreed.

They raised their beers, clinked their bottles together and took a small sip.

“Next up, Valentina Black Label, 2100 SHU. On your mark, get set, eat.”

They quickly ate them up again, and licked the sauce off their fingers.

“This is nothing,” said Kutner.

“Nothing,” Thirteen repeated.

Again, they had a sip of beer just to cleanse the palate.

“Third, Tapatío, 3000 SHU. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“It’s alright,” said Kutner.

“Uh-huh,” said Thirteen.

Thirteen drank a little more beer than Kutner.

“Tapatío is hot,” said Taub. 

“To you.” Kutner looked at Taub with his smug grin.

“Quaker Steak Buckeye BBQ, 5000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

Kutner devoured it quickly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Thirteen took a little longer, but finished it soon enough. She held her sip of beer a little bit before swallowing it.

“Tabasco Habanero, 7000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“Ooh, it’s starting to hit,” said Kutner.

Thirteen’s pale skin was flushed, but she remained composed. They both had a gulp of beer.

“We are only halfway there. The sixth is Crazy Jerry’s Brain Damage, 11,000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“Why are you eating something called Brain Damage?” Foreman stepped forward. “It will certainly hurt your GI system.”

“Only a little, and temporarily at that. These are all FDA approved for retail,” said House.

Neither Kutner nor Thirteen responded to Foreman. They managed to finish the wings, but not as easily. Kutner silently drank his beer. Thirteen fanned her face with her other hand while she drank hers.

“You can stop anytime you want, you know,” said Kutner.

“You wish,” Thirteen retorted, but she was a little out of breath.

“Dragon Repellant Knightmare, 15,000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

Thirteen hesitated before biting in. Kutner gobbled it up, as if he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. They emptied their beers, and House replaced the empty bottles with new ones. Thirteen fanned her face with both of her hands. The redness spread to her neck. Kutner was getting flushed as well, just not as noticeable on his deeper complexion.

“They’re FDA approved for a little dip, not whole chicken wings covered in them.” Foreman approached Thirteen. “Remy.”

Thirteen dismissed Forman with the wave of her hand. “I can take it, okay?”

Foreman turned to the rest of the spectators. “This is stupid!”

“Which is why it’s funny,” said Taub.

Wilson nodded in agreement.

“Why are you allowing your employees to endanger their health?” Foreman asked Cuddy.

“They’ll do it even if I tell them not to, and I’d rather be present in case damage control is needed.”

“Foreman is trying to dissuade Thirteen, which is only going to motivate her more. He’s interfering with the competition by giving unfair advantage to one side,” said Kutner.

“Yes. Foreman, shut up. Taub, say something discouraging to Kutner to make it even,” said House.

“I don’t think the guy who willingly electrocuted himself can be discouraged from anything,” said Taub.

“True, and that statement would have the desired effect, so good enough. Blair’s Jalapeño Death, 20,000. On your mark, get set, eat.”

“Whoa.” Kutner recoiled after eating it, breathing rapidly. He chugged the cold beer. He took off his hoodie.

Thirteen coughed. She tried to drink beer to cool down, but ended up choking on it a little. Foreman leapt toward her. House barred him with his cane. “No entering the ring if you’re not playing.”

“You know what,” said Thirteen, coughing and breathing heavily. “You win, Kutner. I give up.”

“Technically, he has to complete the next round to win. Otherwise, it’s a tie.” House looked at Kutner.

Kutner’s face was distorted with agony, but he muttered, “Bring it on.”

“Very well. Blair’s Original Death, 30,000. Whenever you’re ready.”

Kutner took some time to regain his composure, and ate the ninth chicken wing. He immediately washed it down with the rest of his beer.

“We have a winner!” House exclaimed.

Wilson and Taub clapped and cheered. Cuddy rolled her eyes. Thirteen finally calmed down from her coughing fit and she kept drinking the beer. Kutne, however, remained seated. His eyes were fixed on the last remaining wing on the plate.

“Come on, you won. It’s over.” Taub tapped Kutner on the shoulder.

Kutner reached for the last hot wing. Everyone felt their own bodies growing tense as he painfully finished it off. House handed him another beer, and he chugged it down. He panted, and his skin glistened with sweat.

“You’re insane!” Thirteen yelled.

“That one was called Pain 100%, 40,000. This proves my hypothesis that you are a masochist.”

“I’m not a masochist!” Kutner protested between gasps.

House leaned over toward Kutner. “You already won. You didn’t have to touch that last one. You love to gloat, but right now you’re in too much pain to do that. You want pain more than you want victory.” House stepped away from the table and walked over to Wilson.

“This wasn’t as entertaining as I thought it would be,” Wilson said to House.

“We didn’t do it for your entertainment,” said Kutner. He was still recovering from Pain 100%.

“What did you do it for?” Taub asked.

“It’s not a dare if there’s a purpose,” Kutner replied.

“So you did it for nothing.”

“Pretty much.”

Taub sighed. “Have fun digesting all that. I’ll see you tomorrow, unless you need a sick day.” He walked out.

“At least this is over,” Cuddy grumbled before she left.

House and Wilson left as well. Kutner and Thirteen cleaned up the table. Foreman stayed behind to help.

“It’s still pretty impressive that you lasted as far as you did.” Kutner’s gloating smirk was back.

Thirteen laughed. “My insides are already burning.”

“I’ll finish cleaning up. You go get some rest. Drink water,” said Foreman. His eyes followed Thirteen through the window until she was out of sight. Then, he hissed, “Why did you put her up to this?”

“House and I ironed out the details, but having a match was her idea.” Kutner shrugged, his eyes wide open.

“You provoked her first.”

“I didn’t mean to provoke her, okay? It was an off-handed joke.”

“You should have said no when she wanted to do a match! You know she has—”

Foreman stopped mid-sentence because Kutner stepped closer, almost getting in his face. “She has a fatal neuromuscular degenerative disease. You think you know where it goes because you’re a neurologist, but you don’t. Neurologists just refer them to rehabilitation and follow up every now and then. You don’t even do that, because you work for House now. You confirm a diagnosis and your work is done. I did my residency in rehabilitation medicine. I’ve seen where it goes, many times over. Lifestyle changes are helpful, but it doesn’t change the destination or the course. It hardly even delays the inevitable. If she wants spicy chicken wings, she’ll have the goddamn spicy chicken wings. I’ll do whatever she asks to make her day exciting. I care about her. Maybe not in the way that you do, but I do. I won’t apologize for her decisions to you.” Kutner stormed out of the room.

Foreman continued to wipe the already-clean surface of the table.

[thecouchsofa]

hi!! #14 & #90 for the trope mash-up if you want to? 👀♥︎

Fanfiction trope mashup - Bodyguard AU x Unexpected Virgin

I took this in a slightly different direction to what I was intending, but I quite like it!

Rating: M

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Malfoy slammed the door as he stomped in behind Harry, the rusty hinges squealing. “Do you have any idea–”

“Come off it, Malfoy, you pillock.” Harry rolled his eyes, delighting as the corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched. He sagged against the cool stone wall, trying to catch his breath for the first time in hours.

“I told you not to draw attention to yourself.” Malfoy tugged at his pale hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. He looked far older than his eighteen years, the seemingly endless months of war hanging heavy on his frame. He had lines now, between his arched brows and across his high forehead. They stood out when he hunched over a book as he read by candlelight, too nervous to cast a proper Lumos.

“I didn’t try to–”

Malfoy’s laugh was hollow. He fixed Harry with a look that displayed the fatigue and sadness lodged deep in his soul after so many losses. “You pulled your wand on Greyback. That–”

“I had to.” Harry’s words tripped over themselves. He clutched at the wall, breaths coming faster and faster, the echoes of the offensive spells fired at him and Malfoy still hot on the skin of his heels. “I couldn’t not, not after everything.”

“Then let me do it.” Malfoy’s voice was desperate, pleading. “I’m supposed to protect you. You can’t let me fail at this, Potter.”

“You don’t care about me,” Harry said, though he didn’t believe it. He saw how Malfoy looked at him now, had watched the fear and determination on his face when he threw himself between Harry and the oncoming spells.

“Sirius does.” Malfoy yanked at his jumper, tugging it over his head. There was no point in keeping it now, not in the state it was in; they’d have to burn it before nightfall. Before they moved on from there, to somewhere safer. Wherever that was. “And I can’t let him down, Potter. Not after everything he’s done for me.”

What about me? Harry wanted to ask. He ached to, needed to hear the answer out loud, that something that he felt from Malfoy every day, in each action he performed. What about what I’ve done? What about what you’ve done for me?

Malfoy’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. He looked at Harry then – really looked at him. “I’ve killed for you.”

“Yes,” Harry said. And I’d do the same for you.

Malfoy’s pale throat moved as he swallowed. “I’d do it again.”

“I know.”

“I would.” Malfoy’s gaze was heavy, his shoulders sagging. “But please don’t make me.”

And that was something that Harry couldn’t promise, no matter how much he wanted to. Malfoy knew that; Harry could see it in his face.

The rest of their clothes hit the floor, the threads of fabric standing on end, friction from the offensive spells caught in each strand.

Malfoy stared at the pile for a moment, jaw clenched tight. “We’ll have to burn them.”

“Not in the fireplace.”

“No. The bath.”

Harry gathered up their things, shuddering at the remnants of hostile magic that brushed against his skin. Every atom seemed to scream They’re here. He’s here. Come and get them.

The light of the fire danced across Malfoy’s face as they stood next to the tub, watching as their clothes burned. The scent of it was cloying, magic mixed with ash and charred polyester. Malfoy shuddered, wrapping his arms around his bare torso. Harry glanced at him only once, eyes dropping lower, cheeks heating.

Malfoy cleared his throat, the sound harsh against the backdrop of crackling flames. If Harry closed his eyes and listened, he could almost believe he was camping somewhere in the countryside, innocent and safe.

“We need to wash the magic off.” Malfoy’s tone was rough, like shoes on gravel. “I…”

“Together,” Harry said, before he could stop himself. He couldn’t go back downstairs and wait, ears straining for any sign of someone having followed them to that crumbling lighthouse on the edge of the world.

Malfoy nodded curtly, turning away when Harry looked at him.

They couldn’t turn the water on, just as they couldn’t activate any of the lights. Instead, they took turns holding Malfoy’s wand up, keeping a finger on it to activate the Aguamenti. Malfoy shivered, stepping closer to Harry as water sluiced over the planes of his torso. It shimmered, magic running down their skin and collecting at their feet. Droplets of water clung to Malfoy’s pale lashes as he turned to face Harry, blinking slowly. He didn’t flinch when Harry reached for him, not as he had the last time, the only other time Harry had tried.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, and Malfoy finally touched him back. He slid a hand round the back of Harry’s neck and tugged him in close, kissing him firmly. Their knees bumped in the cramped space, Malfoy’s fingers tangling in Harry’s hair, his breath a whisper.

Malfoy gasped, tipping his head back, when Harry wrapped a hand around the length of him. His legs shook, fingers clutching for any part of Harry he could reach. “I can’t … Potter, I haven’t … not before. Not ever.”

Harry kissed the confession from his lips, swallowing each of Malfoy’s moans, keeping him quiet so they wouldn’t be found. His bicep bulged, muscles straining with the effort of keeping Malfoy’s wand raised above their heads. He didn’t protest, didn’t ask to swap. He touched Malfoy slowly as Malfoy looked his fill, ran his fingers over another body for the first time.

“Please,” Malfoy whispered, legs shaking. “Fuck, I need…”

“Hold on to me,” Harry directed, tightening his grip and speeding up his strokes.

Malfoy clutched onto him and gasped, mouthing Harry’s name again and again against his damp skin. He said it out loud as he crested, Harry’s given name passing his lips for the first time as the smell of their burning clothes filled the air.

“Sirius is going to kill me,” Malfoy muttered against Harry’s shoulder, later, after they’d Apparated to a damp forest in Cumbria.

Harry wrapped an arm around Malfoy’s shoulders, holding him close. “Not if I do it first.”

His words rang loud in the quiet, a joke that didn’t so much as fall flat, but seemed to predict something, a future that neither of them wanted.

“Maybe,” Malfoy said. He pressed his lips to Harry’s throat, parting them and swiping his tongue across Harry’s skin. “But not if I do it first.”

Send me two tropes and I'll mash them together

[thisis-an-original-name]

Here is where I stand with the Global Conflict this week (no one asked lmao)

1. The top priority for me is stopping the genocide in Gaza, and, immediately after that, establishing a Palestinian state/two state solution.

2. Hamas isn’t going to peddle any kind of solution/compromise. Hamas essentially took their “We want to kill Jews” treatise and replaced “Jews” with “Zionists” but nothing has changed. If you can’t see that, you’re dangerous and probably stupid.

3. The hostages need to be freed (if they’re still alive, which let’s be realistic, they probably aren’t.) If Netanyahu actually cared about freeing the hostages, he would have done it by now, and a large number of Israelis recognize that.

4. Recognition of the hostages/ October 7th and recognition of the genocide/ deeply awful conduct of Israel can and SHOULD coexist.

5. Joe Biden is a useless little bitch. Having him as President again would still be better than four more years of Trump.

6. The Met Gala was not orchestrated by Big Zionism to distract from the invasion of Rafah and saying that it was is just blatant antisemitism. That being said, the Israeli military does frequently carry out large strikes on nights like the Met Gala and the Super Bowl when they know that the American news cycle will be focused on something else. Both things can be true. Also, the Met Gala is inherently a stupid thing to get excited about I’m sorry.

7. Student protestors do often fall into traps of antisemitism and say shit that could potentially harm Jews. What else is going to happen, when you gather a bunch of 19 year olds and tell them to yell as loud as humanly possible? That being said, I do have to believe that a vast majority of college protestors have good intentions AND, most of all, even if they don’t, censoring them and spraying pepper spray in their eyes is draconian behavior that the history books will not look kindly upon.

8. I’m so on the fence about boycotts, especially Eurovision. Because on one hand, banning Palestinian flags and keffiyeh’s from the performance is wrong. And I don’t think that Israel should be allowed to compete considering everything that the government is doing, like Russia was banned in 2021. That being said, it does make me sad that this 19 year old girl wrote a song about losing friends and family on October 7th and in response, she’s been booed and told to stay in her hotel room lest the angry mob tears her apart.

9. I do think that celebrities have some level of responsibility to use their platforms for good. That being said, this is such a complex issue that I almost don’t fault some people for not making a 250 character Twitter statement. I don’t think the dying children of Gaza care much if you block Zendaya or Olivia Rodrigo on Instagram. It also gets ridiculous when you go in the comments section of creators with like 100k followers and you see people posting Palestinian flags like yeah I’m sorry that blorbo from my shows isn’t personally flying to Gaza to punch Netanyahu in the face.

10. If you punctuate every single acknowledgement of the genocide with “but what about the hostages!!” or GOD FORBID “it’s sad that Hamas made Netanyahu do this” you have been propagandized by your local Hillel. No one made Netanyahu do this except Netanyahu. There’s no way you don’t know that by now. Wiping out Hamas: another thing that Netanyahu probably would have done by now if he genuinely wanted to.

11. Whenever I see lists of “here are the celebrities/professors/writers/guy on the street to block and throw rocks at because he’s a Mean Scary Zionist” I am reminded of the lists of synagogue goers that Nazis used to track down Jews and their families during the Holocaust. Seriously if you’re peddling lists of “Zionists” ripe for demonization you might want to ask yourself what you’re REALLY doing, and why.

12. Fun fact about me: I actually consider myself a Zionist. I do think, historically speaking, that Jews do need a safe place and a homeland to prevent us from being killed again like we seem to be every few centuries or so. I just don’t think that place has to be Israel, and I DEFINITELY don’t think Palestine should be subjugated for it to happen. But whenever I hear “Zionism = BAD” I just cringe a bit because… you keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means

[3pirouette]

Fic: Theater Etiquette (1/1)

Title: Theater Etiquette 

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Steve and Peggy are in the audience for the first preview of Rogers the Musical. 

A/N: Use your imagination as to how or why they’re there. I picture them young, but you can see them as older.

Thanks to @captainjimothycarter for finding me the full length Disneyland link so I could see this without having to make my way to California. It will help if you’ve seen it, for sure. YouTube has a few versions now.

For Steggy Week 2k23 Day 5: Missing Scenes and Favorite moments

Does this count? Maybe. Rogers the Musical was my FAVORITE part of Hawkeye, so I’m saying it counts.

For the record, I really enjoyed Rogers the Musical for the campy romp it is and I;m very sad I’ll likely not get to see it in person. I fully believe Steve and Peggy would hate it with every fiber of their being. 

~*~

Steve squirmed in his seat as the lights went down and the announcer started talking. 

“I’ve never known you to be so restless,” Peggy muttered, slipping her clutch to her side. “It’s just one performance, then we never have to think of it again.”

“Until they ask me about it in an interview, or it turns into a success and I hear the songs everywhere…” He groaned, dropping his head. “What if they make it into a movie?”

“People deserve to know your story.” Peggy let her hand slip over his, entwining their fingers as the lights started to swirl around the audience. 

“That’s why I wrote a book,” he muttered, “and let the Smithsonian keep half my stuff.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, nudging him with her shoulder. “And what were you going to do with your 70 year old general issue boxer shorts anyway, hum?”

“…the one, the only, Starkettes!”

Steve huffed under his breath. “You’re kidding me. I don’t even get my own singers?”

Peggy squeezed his hand. “You know very well neither Tony nor Howard would have let the chance to name a group of female singers by them.”

“But Tony didn’t write this.”

Peggy shrugged as the stage brightened and the curtains opened, revealing a stylized USO club. “Just… try to enjoy this, can you?” 

“I can’t,” he muttered. “Not when no one gets it. If they did they wouldn’t be stylizing war like this, like some fun, happy time.”

Peggy turned her head. “You know very well this is a musical, and it’s not like life on the home front was Les Miserables, anyway.” She looked him up and down, “Now, just try to be a polite audience, can you?”

He deflated, but nodded. 

They sat quietly as the opening song continued, and Steve only groaned quietly when the setting changed to the Stark Club. 

“This is not factually correct,” Peggy mumbled, eyebrows pinching together as she saw the woman playing her not only be in the scene, but punch a guy in the face. 

Steve squirmed in his seat next to her. “I know.”

“I hadn’t even met you yet.”

“I know, Peg.”

She leaned into his space, whispering into his ear, “How much longer is this?”

Steve just dropped his head, shaking it. “Until intermission, or the end?” 

~*~

Steve huffed. “Oh, Erskine never sounded like that…”

“According to his biography, that actor was last seen in a regional production of Cabaret.” Peggy lifted her eyebrows. “His accent still needs a bit of work…” she listened to the actress playing her introduce herself, “as does hers.”

They both cringed as the lights changed and high notes were sung at the introduction of Steve and Peggy on stage. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve muttered quickly. 

“Not at all,” Peggy supplied. 

“You were much more intimidating.”

“And you were much more flustered and adorable.” 

He pecked her on the cheek quickly, then turned back to the stage. “So, they name the Greek chorus after him, but don’t put Stark in this at all? He was a huge part of all this…”

“They’ve also skipped the part where Erskine was murdered in favor of more… spangles, my love.” She squeezed his hand gently. “I told you, not exactly Les Miserables.”

“No, more like propaganda.”

Peggy watched as the USO show morphed into a medley onstage. Streamers fell around them as her character came back on stage to Steve’s excited rant about his performances. 

Peggy leaned into him, laughing into his shoulder. 

“What now?” He asked, nearly exasperated. 

“You were never that confident on stage, my darling.” She looked up at him. “Or as excited about it.”

“No, not in my Dancing Monkey Days.” He shook his head. “I recall that day being much more…”

“Wet,” Peggy supplied, leaning into him. “We were both soaked and muddied up to our shins.”

“Agent Carter, when I return, do you want to go on a date with me?”

Steve sputtered in indignation as Peggy tried to hide her laughter. “Dear lord, they’re butchering this.”

“How did they- why would they-“ 

“Just… try to ignore it, ok?”

Steve did, he watched patiently for a few moments as his life was distilled down into comic book tableaus and silliness. Until he stiffened. 

“Does anyone copy? I’ve successfully taken control of an enemy HYDRA aircraft.”

“No,” he whispered under his breath. 

“Who told them?” Peggy whispered, looking at her avatar on the stage, gripping Steve’s hand tight. “We kept this to ourselves,”

“It’s an Army sanctioned show,” Steve muttered. “This is in the official records. I thought they were classified.”

“Steve? Steve?”

Peggy turned, burying her head in his shoulder. “Of all the things for them to get right…”

Thankfully, Peggy didn’t have time to fall into old memories, because Steve leaned forward as the lights lifted on the stage again. 

“Oh, good lord.” 

“What?” Peggy turned her head, looking back at the stage, where a caricature of Nick Fury was bouncing and singing. 

“He’s not going to be happy about that.”

“Not at all.”

Peggy watched with fascination as the man bounced across the stage in a manner that was so contrary to the man she knew as Fury she couldn’t help but be intrigued. 

“This has to be on purpose,” Steve whispered, entranced. He watched as Fury started introducing Avengers, “I mean, Scott wasn’t even there for that, and we didn’t know about Bucky yet, or Wakanda…” His voice drifted away. 

“How can they get so much wrong,” Peggy mused, shaking her head, “but get Saturday at 8 right?”

It was entrancing, though, and they fell silent as the stage turned into a New York street filled with rubble. Peggy couldn’t help but notice Steve’s foot tapping along to the Act 1 finale.

As the lights came up, Clint turned around in front of them. “You guys are literally the worst, you know that, right?”

Steve and Peggy just eyed him. 

“I had to turn my hearing aid off.” He moved his hand to his ear and flicked t back on. “Chattering away like no one was around you.” He shook his head, standing. “Just because this horrible mess is about you guys doesn’t mean you get to talk through it. Remind me never to go to the movies with you.”

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Have a (late) merry Christmas to you as well friend! :D

1: which movie is their favorite in the kung fu panda trilogy? & what’s their favorite moment?

2: speaking of kung fu panda, are they excited for the fourth one? Or thinks the trilogy is ok; no need for an another one?

3: fun fact: Chris was based off of the kid in the movie Superman returns (or was it vice versa don’t remember) & the kid can play piano; both the real & keyboard. So I have a Headcanon that Chris can play piano.

4: what kind of slapstick does the duo “perform?” Like slamming into walls, slipping on something slippery, landing crotch first on something, etc…

5: what’s the saddest video game they played?

6: I think I asked this already but what is something the duo does traditionally with their families?

I would like to say a late merry Christmas & a happy new year to you my friend! I’m thankful for you bringing the duo to life :D

Thanks so much @gothicghost2000 fir your kind words and encouragement. It’s truly appreciated

1) Oh beyond any sort of doubt, the second one reigns supreme as the best of the entire trilogy fir the two. That they can agree on for certain. Now where they differ are their favorite moments of said trilogy. For Chris can’t stop thinking about the battle against Kai in the Spirit Realm while Jake vets absolutely starstruck with Tai Lung’s prison breakout.

2) The Duo are utterly mixed by the fourth film as while the fact Tai Lung is returning and teaming up with an interesting new villain certainly has their attention, they do think that the original trilogy worked out perfectly as is. The fourth one has a high bar in quality to clear if it ought to justify its inclusion.

3) Oh yes, I remember Jason White and the influence he had when Chris was being created. So I can see Chris at first learning how to play piano during the earlier years of staying on Earth. It’d be around the time he turns 9 when he transitions more to playing Bass. But even nowadays he can still play piano despite not being his main instrument.

4) Slamming into walls while either running real fast or likely flying straight into them due to failing to look ahead, getting bonked on the head via failing to look up for incoming objects in the air, sometimes getting slapped in the face by unappreciative people they rescue, very uncomfortable leg splitting when they hold two separating large building to prevent them from falling apart (SpiderMan Homecoming style), and yes… ‘gentle’ landings when they sometimes fail in trying to proper look down below; all of that are very constant in the daily superhero life of these two despite their best efforts

5) It’s a toss up between Mother/Earthbound 3 and Omori as the gut wrenching takes both games have leave Chris and Jake rushing for their tissue boxes by the time they’re done. Though Mother 3 might slightly edge out as the sadness there has a more clever disguise with its goofy Nintendo charm while Omori’s more psychological thriller/horror approach at first spooks the Duo and then some before it’s breaks their hearts

Honorable mention though goes to FNAF 4, especially when they see the mini games.

6) Well it doesn’t hurt to give new answers to this one

Chris: I can see Conner and him drop by the Metropolis Grand Mall together, checking out all sorts of the various stores inside, browsing around anything that catches their eyes or at least if said has something they’ve been thinking about in the back of the minds. Though of course if Conner starts getting flirty with some girls at the food court, it’s quite easy for Chris to roll his eyes and drag Conner away by his ear, just like how Mom Lois does that

Jake: Every now and then, the entire family would pay a visit to the new permanent residence of Haly’s Circus, settled in Bludhaven’s Mealtide Park when it’s not on a cross-country/worldwide tour thanks to Dick’s ownership of it. Jake especially liked having small talks with some of the performers and staff who had been there when his father was little and performing along his own parents, curious fir all sorts of stories from that time. Also, Mar’i and him flat out love Zitka the elephant and she loves them right back, allowing to settle on her back and play around her trunk.

[vro0m]

vro0m’s rewatch - 160/310

2015 Italian GP

Guys we have a FULL BROADCAST 🎉 let's go!

Oh. They open by saying we're joining them earlier as the drivers have assembled for a minute of silence in honor of driver Justin Wilson, who passed a couple of weeks prior after suffering a head injury during an indycar race. 

All the drivers are standing around in little groups in what looks like an empty garage and chatting at the moment. I like when we get to see them in these less scripted, more informal moments. Seb comes in and grabs Jenson to lead the way out. They're the GPDA directors at the time. And there they go. I can't see Lewis anywhere. Oh, OH! OOOOIAHSHSHSHSHWHDGXZSGSG

IT'S BLEACHED BLOND LEWIS ERA BITCHES! Anyway he's walking alone but he's here. They all get on, erm… Is that the drivers' truck? They line up against a barrier facing the journalists and holding each other by the shoulders. Lewis stands right next to Valtteri, they have the same shade of hair now. And Valtteri tries to chat with him because he's in love with him obviously. They stand there in silence. Then there's some clapping, and the drivers' truck leaves for the parade. 

Natalie interviews him. He's waving to the crowd with his earphones on. She says it was a "incredibly moving moment" and that it reminds us of how "unified the world of motorsport is" (erm… What?) "at a sad time like this". Oh that's awkward, she presents him with the mic and he just smiles in silence. After a second he chuckles and says "I don't know what you want me to say…" He goes on to say it's for sure a difficult year for motorsport, they're all close, they're all drivers, and they all experience similar things, and they're all connected in one way or another. It's his 7th consecutive pole, "just one short of your hero Ayrton Senna", she asks if records like these matter to him. He hums. He says he never really thinks about the records but he thinks it's not fair on Ayrton because he was so good, if he had lived longer, all his records would have been extended. "So whilst I'm getting close in terms of numbers, they're not really real, you know what I mean?" They're now in front of a stand and she says although of course the fans here love Ferrari, he has a lot of support as well. He says there's a lot of British flags and the support has been amazing in the last couple of years, a lot of British coming but also Italians "swinging from ferrari to Mercedes"... She calls it controversial! He smiles. He says he's grateful for the support he gets. She says he promised he'd show the blond hair today. He says he didn't promise that, "but you're gonna see it, when I'll be on the grid, you'll see it."

So yep. Lewis on pole again, but this time it's actually Raikkonen beside him. Then it's Seb, and Nico is only 4th. In 5th place we have Massa, then Valtteri, Perez, Grosjean, Hulkenberg and Maldonado for the 10th spot. Loads of grid penalties behind them. 

Ohhh yesss we're treated to Lewis content ❤️ first we see images of him arriving to the track. He burnt rubber on his bike and got swarmed by fans. We also get an explanation about Nico's performance : they apparently changed engines and he had to go back to the old one because of chassis issues? Not sure how that works. 

Ted interviewed Lewis. He says he could in the future be a three time world champion (lol). Lewis makes a face. Ted asks what it would mean to him. Lewis says it's always difficult when he's asked such questions because he hasn't done it yet so he doesn't know exactly. But it's his goal and it's what he's always wanted to do, he always wanted to emulate Ayrton. Ted says there's been a Senna era, a Schumacher era, even a Vettel era. "Do you think of your place in history at all? Do you think there might be a Hamilton era?" – "I hope I get the opportunity to have an era," he says, making a face again.

"I feel like my whole career is my era." He says he finds it funny when people say, whether it's him, Seb or Schumacher, "but he's in the best car." "That's the name of the game here, you have to be– you know, your team has to be on point, and then the driver has to be on point. And there's not one champion from the past that's not been– had the car at its best when he's won the championship. Not one driver." Ted talks about how Lewis wasn't penniless but was struggling and now he's reached a point where he's comfortable. "Does having money bring you happiness?" he asks, and that's a weird, weird question out of the blue. Lewis says he doesn't think he could find anyone who would say yes and that it’s about the people around you, your family and about finding happiness within yourself. (Yeah but being able to spend time with them rather than at work to pay the bills helps with that my man, come on.) (Ah here you go, I should have given him the benefit of the doubt) "But sure… having money for sure helps. Without a doubt. You're able to do things you weren't able to do when you didn't have the money." 

"A Formula One driver has to be this," he says. "Has to be in this square box." He draws it in the air with his fingers.

"If you're not, you're not winning and you're not doing all these other things and the moment I would ever step out of that box… it could be anyone… would comment and make a fuss about it and I'd go back into the box. Now I'm not in that box anymore, and I do my own thing AND I'm winning. So then I'm like… creating a new shape or being a different shape which um… yeah, and I'm happier here that I was in the other box so, if you can understand what I mean…" – "I do understand," Ted answers with emphasis. "I'm wondering if, when you came into Formula 1 in 2007, you– I sensed that you had a focus maybe that's that box, you thought 'I need to be totally focused', it was like a closed off focus. Is that what you mean by being in that box?" (No, Ted, love, it's not.) "It's not about the focus, no. It's about people's expectations of you, it's about your parents, it's about how you behave, it's about what you say and all of those, many other things. But as I did get into Formula 1, the pressure that I put on myself was far too much. You know the pressure that would come from my dad, who… I'm grateful the pressure he put on me but the pressure I felt from a family point of view as well."

"You got a lot of friends in Formula One?" asks Ted. (How can he get some questions so right while he seemingly understands so little about Lewis’ answers.) Lewis hums and looks around. "Well within my team, my last team, yeah. I would say so, I'd think so. A lot of friends I mean, what is a lot of friends? My friends I– my best friends are, I can c– you know, the closest friends I can count on one hand. So I have a lot of… Associates and colleagues and uh, people I like to, you know, people I work very closely with I like to say, I like to think they're my friends. People I can rely on." (:) :) :) :) :) remember what I wrote about him needing to be able to rely on people and feel like he belongs?) "The reason I ask," says Ted, "some people, some other drivers, they love to be everyone's mate, they're joshing around with everybody cause maybe that's how they deal with the pressure, whatever. Um… but you're not like that."

"Naaaah, I'm not." He smirks, Ted chuckles. He shakes his head. "I'm not into that, no, cause… Yeah." He chuckles as well. "Why?" asks Ted. While he asks his question Lewis says "Well what makes you think I'm not like that?" Ted says they just don't see him lurking around. "One driver I feel like I've got a real good relationship with is Daniel," he says. "For example. You know and, I obviously came together with him in Hungary and I, I messaged him and I said 'hey man, I'm really sorry about that. My bad.' and he wrote back like 'no problem man, it's totally cool' and it's a respect thing. So there's respect between the drivers, but I'm here to do a job, I'm not here to play. I'm not here to be all happy dooladi and, you know, and make too much of a conversation. I'm here to do one thing, that's win the championship." – "Maybe blonds do have more fun," Ted says. "Hah!" goes Lewis. "well I've literally just changed so I don't know." He laughs. "We'll see over the next couple of weeks."

Now back in Brixworth they challenged the drivers to a nice little rowing competition on the premise that the Merc engine is the best but what about their own engines. It's between Hulkenberg, Lewis, Grosjean, Massa, Maldonado and Valtteri. Brundle asks Valtteri if he's ready and if he's been training. He says training yes but not rowing. Lewis jokingly says : "I saw Valtteri the other day training in Monaco for this". – "Yeah right," Valtteri says back. Brundle tells them to imagine they're going across a 500m lake. He says on the other side there's Bernie's wallet and 10 WDC points. And here we go.

(Sorry for the ugly colors I did my best but the lightning was sooo weird.)

Lewis is in the lead. Maldonado is literally moving his rowing bench around from how hard he's pulling. My god this is so funny they’re so competitive and for what. Halfway through the 500m Hulkenberg is catching Lewis.

Then it's Grosjean 11 meters behind, Valtteri 16 meters behind, Maldonado and Massa are over 30 meters behind. Maldonado is almost out of the filming area, he's moved his bench so much. Massa and him are still going but they're more so smiling in what I interpret as half awe half mockery of how hard the others are going and how seriously they're taking it. Hulkenberg is 9 meters in the lead now, with Grosjean second, 20 meters ahead of Lewis. And that's the finish line. Grosjean falls off his bench. They're all exhausted. Brundle presents Hulkenberg with a shabby trophy. He asks him how it's gone for him but he can't answer, he's so out of breath. "Ah… Difficult," he manages. "I almost… Fell off… The chair…" Brundle says he had to pace himself a little because Lewis was flying. He says yeah it didn't look good, but he knew he'd hit a cliff at some point. Brundle looks at Lewis. "So I mean… Was that the old lactic acid kicking in?" Lewis says "I don't know, I just went for it." The crowd laughs. "What happened at the end though?" asks Hulkenberg. "I had nothing left!" he laughs.

And just like that the cars are off to the grid. Niki says the Ferraris can beat them today. He thinks the start will be important and we will see who's the best out of the chicane. "And?" says Brundle "What do you think, how do you think it's gonna play out?" – "I think Lewis knows what he's doing, if he gets through the first chicane, I trust him." Brundle says he heard they had 20 men working on Nico's car and it took a miracle to get it on the track. Niki confirms it, they had to change some pieces, and says now the car's okay. Brundle asks if they have concerns about Lewis' car, but Niki says Lewis had no problems all weekend, "thank God". 

It's time for the race!

Formation lap

They're racing ! 

Oh no fucking way! Raikkonen didn't start! He's pretty much at the back, unbelievable… Very very bad for him, but good for Lewis, who's leading the way although Seb is very very close to him. It's not a good start for Nico either, he's currently 6th. And there's a car out already, and it's Grosjean. And Ted says Maldonado has just gone past him in the garage and retired as well. So that's both Lotuses out on lap 3. Raikkonen is gaining back, up in P10 from the back of the field in a few laps. Ted says Maldonado's floor broke in two as he went through a kerb in lap 1. Raikkonen up in P9. Nico is struggling with brake wear. 

On lap 10 Lewis has a 5.4 advantage over Seb, ahead of Massa, Valtteri, Nico, Perez, Hulkenberg, Ericsson, Raikkonen and Sainz. Ted says Nico has been asking about the strategy and his engineer told him to focus on the brake wear right now. That's how bad they're doing. Sainz gets a 5 second penalty for leaving the track and gaining an advantage. Shortly after Nico is back half a second behind Valtteri and told the brakes are getting better with management. He's still stuck behind even with the DRS though. He's attacking. He's told his brakes are hot again. Nico pits. 

On lap 20, Massa pits in response. Raikkonen overtakes Ericsson for current P5. And Nico's undercut was successful as he's now ahead of Massa in P6. Lewis says he's feeling something with his front left and getting understeer. Valtteri pits. He's gonna lose out with that strategy from Williams. Yeah. He's way behind Nico and Massa. Bono tells Lewis he's matching Nico's time on the other (and also fresh) tyres. Seb gets called in, he's losing time a lot. It's past time they changed his tyres. Lewis is called in. He's still in the lead obvi. Raikkonen says he wants to box and so he does, and Mehri almost collides into him in the pit entry… Seb sets the fastest lap. On the replay we see that it was rather Raikkonen going in extremely slowly and Mehri having to brake hard to avoid running into him. 

Lap 30. Lewis is leading by 19.2 seconds lol. Then it's Seb, Nico, Massa, Valtteri, Perez, Daniel (but he hasn't pitted yet), Hulkenberg, Ericsson and Raikkonen. And just as I'm done writing this, Daniel pits and Raikkonen overtakes Ericsson for P8. Then Hulkenberg for P7. Nico's engineer says Seb's first tyres went off way earlier than everybody else's and they're expecting the same for the second stint so P2 is still possible if he closes the gap, but Crofty points out Nico's current tyres are 7 laps older. 

On lap 40, it’s boring. Lewis is over 20 seconds ahead. Seb, Nico is 5 seconds behind him, Massa, Valtteri, Perez, Raikkonen, Hulkenberg, Ericsson, Ricciardo. Lewis is so chill ahead he's asking what he can do to save his engine the best he can.

Huh?

So we just saw an image of Toto talking with engineers very seriously. And then Bono says : "Okay Lewis we can go Strat mode 3, start mode 3, we need to pull a gap, we need to pull a gap. Don’t ask questions, just execute." Which is very weird. They don't usually communicate like this. Also what fucking gap, he's 22 seconds in the lead?! The commentators are baffled. Brundle thinks maybe it's a slow puncture but he's doing fine? We see a lock up in a replay, so now he thinks maybe vibrations? But then he corrects himself saying it's not a "particularly nasty flat spot at all". Anyway, Lewis picks up the pace. 

5 laps to go. Bono : "OK Lewis let’s just have some ‘Hammertime’ lap times. We just need some good lap times now. No need to ask questions, we’ll just explain it at the end." Very weird, very weird. He sets the fastest lap of the race. Crofty says it's gotta be concerning, if you're Lewis now, he might not ask questions but he's in a bit of a jeopardy. Ted says he must know it's for a safety pit stop, he's 22 seconds ahead and it's 25 seconds for a pit stop. But why would they need that? It makes no sense. As Ted points out, if he had a concerning issue with the car, they couldn't be asking him to do quick laps, so what is it?! Ted says if they're not telling Lewis anything they won't tell him but he'll still try and ask them. 

4 laps to go. Brundle says they're looking at telemetry so they're worried about something Lewis can't see. Hence not a flat spot or vibration. Lewis says he can't go much faster than that. Bono very calmly says what he's doing is all they need, to stabilise the pace and that it's great. Meanwhile Alonso retires. Raikkonen overtakes Perez for P6. 

3 laps to go. Valtteri is half a second behind Massa now but they're both Williams. Are they gonna race? Valtteri's tyres are fresher. OH. HOOOO. And that's smoke for Nico! DNF! It's really not a good season for him. Yellow flags in sector 2.

2 laps to go. Nico's car is in a bad place, but they should be able to push it away. They do. Lewis hits backmarker traffic. Bono says there's no need to take any risks and to keep doing what he's doing. But Lewis is worried. "Bono picking up the pace to where I was, is… it IS taking risks." – "How bizarre," reacts Brundle. 

It's the final lap. Ted says Mercedes said Lewis doesn't need an extra stop but it’s obvious now. Valtteri attacks Massa but can't make it. 

It's the end of the race! 

Lewis wins! Seb P2, so a nice sewis podium, and the battle for P3 is ongoing… but it's Massa who gets it.

Bono : "Okay Lewis thanks for that, I'll explain everything when I see you." Lewis : "I have to say Bono, that, those last few laps were not cool man, I–" Bono cuts him off : "Yeah so just torque zero" and then “Yeah, okay Lewis, copy that, so I'll speak to you in a bit." They don't wanna do this over the radio.

Seb is very happy. Meanwhile Nico's Merc is smoking more heavily than I've ever seen a car smoke, suspended on the crane. 

Ted is with Toto. He asks about the mysterious issue. He goes "Uuuhhhh…" and then says they're looking at "some data". "Can't tell you right now." Ted insists, asks why he can't tell them, the race is over, "it's not a secret." Toto squirms uncomfortably. "Erm… It's still a secret." He smiles. Ted keeps insisting, asking if it was the engine, if he needed the gap for an extra stop, was it a tyre issue? In the background Toto says "I can't" repeatedly, and then, decidedly, "I can't tell you, Ted."

Crofty asks Brundle if them being secretive points towards an engine problem rather than a tyre problem. Brundle inhales and says yes. He thinks Lewis would have mentioned a tyre problem. Lewis not so discreetly checks his car as he climbs out. You can tell he's about as weirded out by the matter as the journalists are. Brundle says you can apply race penalties, maybe tyre pressure too low, some points… As he walks back, Lewis taps on his tyres and you can tell he's trying to figure it out just as much as they are. He's so confused. You know how he is about control. He squats next to the car and caresses it. He moves the steering wheel, pushes it a bit. Baby, go inside, whoever the Merc representative is will probably tell you. Brundle thinks it has to be something with temperature or pressure heading in the wrong direction.

Hahahahaha Ted is with Niki he says he's sorry to see what happened with Nico and then very quickly : "what was going on with Lewis?" And Niki being the smart guy he is says : "Lewis? Perfect race. I can't complain, I mean, he was leading and there he goes. Why? Are you worried about Lewis?" he asks with a chuckle. He's so funny. But it's not Ted's first rodeo. "No, well, your team was," he says. And he talks about Bono's radio messages. Niki keeps playing dumb. He says he doesn't know, he didn't hear these messages. Ted insists but Niki doesn't budge. He doesn't know what happened, there was nothing wrong with him. Lewis does an old man stretch in the cool down room. Ted and Niki agree Nico will be upset and that catching up with Lewis will be difficult.

The other two join Lewis in the cool down room and it's a nice light friendly atmosphere.

They congratulate each other, Massa telling him "Well done, boy!"

Then Seb sees Massa's race suit has a dark spot on the shoulder and asks "where have you been? Picking up some rubber?" and he laughs at his own joke because of course he does.

Massa tells them the same thing he said over the radio : "I'm getting too old for this." He says the three last laps were difficult, Valtteri was trying to pass him. It makes Lewis laugh. He says something but I can't hear.

The podium interviews are to be led by George Lucas which is weird but the crowd is busy chanting ‘Sebastian’ so loud we can barely hear the skysports comment anyway. George hugs them all. Doesn't shake their hands, he just HUGS them. The crowd is so noisy. George Lucas wishes them happy new year? They can't start the fucking interviews they're yelling so loud. "Crazy," says Lewis. "This is amazing," says George Lucas. "Grazie a tutti !" yells Lewis. The crowd roars even more. Finally they calm down. Kinda. George Lucas says he jokingly asked Lewis earlier why he doesn't win by 20 seconds rather than having "close call races of 1 or 2 seconds" and Lewis answered that he thought he could do that. And well he did. Lewis says “look at this crowd, unbelievable”. The crowd that had barely quieted down gets louder again. He says he couldn't have done it without his team ("I don't know if anyone can hear us"), "this team is just remarkable and what we've achieved together is so special".

It's Seb's turn. Now I genuinely can't hear properly because of how much they're yelling. It doesn't matter because Seb didn't hear either and instead of answering he talks to them in Italian. "Quest'anno è incredibile." Massa gets even louder cheers if it was possible. They love him so, still. Then they actually get completely quiet. George Lucas asks him how it felt to get through the finish line with his team-mate so close. "Very tough!" He says again he's getting old. It was difficult fighting with his team-mate. The crowd chants his name. "Grazie mille tutti, sono molto contento di essere cui con voi." And then some things I don't hear. "Grazie davvero" he says. "Siete tutti cui al mio cuore." (sic) The fans roar. George Lucas asks Lewis if blonds do have more fun. He says he hopes so. He thanks the crowd.

Oh fuck. Crofty says the drama is not over as it could've been that Mercedes were running illegal tyre pressures… Ted's gone to talk with Paddy. He tells him they've heard about the tyre pressure from Pirelli and another team, that they've detected a pressure lower than what was allowed on Lewis’ rear tyres. Paddy says they don't understand it "to be honest" but they've been summoned to the stewards. Ted's like oh so you've set the tyres to the right pressure and somehow they've gone below that? Paddy repeats he doesn't understand it because he was focused on the race but he knows they've set their pressure fully supervised by the Pirelli engineer who was "perfectly happy" with them. Ted says that they've heard Ferrari got a similar message and asks if they know if it's true. Paddy says he doesn't know that. Ted says that's obviously why they were telling Lewis to create a gap in anticipation perhaps of a time penalty. Paddy calls it "an abundance of caution, because we haven't done anything wrong" and then confirms it. 

The journalists debate it and Hill says he thought maybe Lewis had cruised so much it made the tyre pressure go down. The others agree it's a possibility. However Hill goes on to say that if Mercedes started the race with the lowest allowed pressure and Pirelli knows it they may have gone against Pirelli's recommendation. 

(It makes no sense man, if the tyre was set to the right pressure it was set to the right pressure there's no grey area. If the lowest pressure they allow dips below their own limit during the race because a driver is doing so well he doesn't have to push that's neither on him nor his team. If Mercedes started the race in accordance to the rules and the race panned out in such a way Lewis had no competition whatsoever how is that their fault? How could they have predicted it to set the pressure higher? It's stupid, but let's see if that's what happened.)

Ted says Hill is right, it's a technical infringement, all the other teams know it, except if they can prove it was a slow puncture or something, it's a technical infringement. And if the rear was under the limit then that's a penalty. Ted goes on to say you rarely get a drive through penalty for a technical infringement. They're even saying they could be straight up disqualified which is absolutely fucking ridiculous, but again, let's wait and see. Ted goes back to what Paddy Lowe said, which is they don't know what happened because they fully followed the regs and that they were told by the Pirelli engineer the pressure was right. 

We hear the team radio again. That "don't ask questions, just execute" is chilling for some reason. 

Toto joins the journalists. He says they heard towards the end of the race that tyre pressure was being checked on some cars, they don't have any more understanding of the situation than that and will try to make sense of it with the stewards. Simon picks up on the fact that according to him it wasn't just their car and Toto says his own understanding is just pit lane gossip at the moment. Johnny asks how the pressure limit works : is it that it can't dip below it even during the race? Toto says he doesn't know the details but he thinks it's just about when you take the blankets off and send the car away, and that's when it's being measured (mmmh...). Hill asks if it's a guidance or a law. Toto says it's more than a guidance. Hill asks if Pirelli can see their tyre pressure. Toto says he doesn't know how they can see that. Simon asks if he's been informed if there might be penalties and what they might be. Toto says no. They just have to wait and see now. 

We get the post race press conference. They explain to Lewis the issue at hand and ask if he has any comment. "Not really no."

They ask if he was aware of it. "I wasn't aware of it, so…" The journalist says at the end he was asked to build a gap and wasn't sure why, and presumably that was linked to that issue. "Maybe." – "They haven't told you?" He smiles. "N… No…" he stutters. They move on. 

Simon says again they heard one of the Ferrari cars is also implicated, but then they show the summons and it's only the two Mercedes. They speak with Pat Symonds (Williams’ chief technical officer). Ted asks him to explain what his understanding of the tyre pressure rules and how they're enforced is. He says from his understanding the pressures have been checked on the grid and some have been found to be under the limit. He expects "quite a high penalty". Ted asks what's a normal penalty for a technical infringement and Symonds says "disqualification". (Lol, when you think about all the times since then there were very obvious violations and barely anything happened…) Now Ted has more info, he reads : "On the grid, after the five minutes signal the tyre starting pressures and thread temperature on the left hand side rear tyres were checked on Lewis Hamilton's car, Nico Rosberg's car, Sebastian Vettel's car and Kimi Raikkonen's." He says those were the only four cars checked. "And they were compared with the specifications of Pirelli. The specification for the minimum starting pressure is 19.5 psi and the maximum blanket temperature is 110°C. The temperature on the left hand side rear tyre of Lewis, Nico, Sebastian and Kimi was within the guidelines. But the starting pressure of the left rear tyre of Lewis was 0.3 psi below the specified minimum tyre starting pressure and the measured pressure of Rosberg's car was 1.1 psi below the minimum specified tyre starting pressure." 

Okay that doesn't look good. Also Ted says the crucial part is the last paragraph, because the pressure was checked with the calibrated Pirelli pressure gauge. 

Natalie is interviewing Lewis and I wouldn't want to be her because that's not gonna be an easy one. She congratulates him and then asks how concerned he is about being disqualified. "I don't feel concerned at the moment," he says. "There's no need to worry, I mean, I had an amazing day, I had an amazing weekend and that's really what I'm focused on, I think. What will be will be, you know," he smiles softly. "We did everything we could." She asks what he's been told about– he doesn't wait for the end of the question nor the mic. I see him shake his head. She repeats : "You haven’t been told anything yet?" – "I haven't seen anyone, so..." She summarises the issue saying he must know he came under the restricted– He says something again, she nods "null point three psi", then he adds something else "on the left rear, so." He says something again but she keeps going : and he knows the consequence of that is disqualification. She asks if there's an easy process that could be put in place to make sure that didn't happen. He says he doesn't know. "It's not my job to think of that." He hums, looks aside and sighs briefly. "Yeah. I don't really know what to say to you about that, it's not my job," he smiles and shrugs.

"I'm sorry to push you on it," she starts and his face gets serious again. She says it seems ridiculous that in such a technical world as modern F1 something that simple could happen, when you lead by 25 seconds. He looks aside, inhales, shifts his weight on his other feet, smiles and lets out a breathy "yeah." He reiterates he doesn't have a particular feeling about it right then, and dives into his usual speech about the team doing such a great job, the car feeling great, driving his heart out, etc. "I extract the best out of the car but they extract the best out of me." He says for the people who are watching to know, as he's already explained, Formula 1 is about running to the maximum. All the cars and all the drivers run to the limit, weight limits, all the limits. They're always within the limits but always as close as they can to them. "That's what we do, that's what Formula 1 is all about, and for whatever reason today… Point three… If it is point three, it is point three, but at the end of the day it had no effect on the car. That small amount on the tyre doesn't do anything. It has to be a much bigger amount, half or one psi, to make a difference." Natalie says if, "god forbids", he gets disqualified, then it wouldn't be fair because he feels like he didn't get "that big an advantage" because of it. Lewis says he's sure people can prove it as well. He says Pirelli will be able to prove that it doesn't make any difference, particularly on one tyre as opposed to all the tyres. "So it would be very much a shame but ultimately that's not the reason that we won today. We won because we were the quickest." He smiles a bit forcefully. She decides to talk about more positive things. He winks at someone.

She goes back to the 25 seconds lead. He says he wouldn't be able to do that without the team. He also says he feels like he's driving to the best of his ability, the best he's ever driven. The balance is perfect and he's not making any mistakes. He says he honestly doesn't feel like he could have improved on anything in that race, and he's very happy with that. "And as I said, this team…" He shrugs and shakes his head with a smile.

"It's the best team in the world!" She asks if he knows when they will know about the decision. "I don't know how I would know when I haven't spoken with anyone so…" he answers with slight mockery. "I don't, sorry!" he chuckles. She says they're all desperate to know "cause, you know…" He says "well, me too, but honestly… This dude hasn't told me anything so…" he chuckles again.

Natalie asks "does this dude know anything?" and she hands the mic to the PR guy. Lewis is smiling wide. (He's really so happy this season, it's unbelievable lol, I genuinely thought he'd be closed off in this interview and he's joking around. Nice to see!) "Nothing at all," the PR guys answer. In the background Lewis says "...put you in the spot!" 

And we cut straight to Paddy Lowe and Shov walking up the stairs to the stewards office. They're not sharing Lewis' relaxed and happy vibe, they look like someone died. 

Crofty is checking twitter and someone there makes a very good point, which doesn't happen a lot : if it was such a safety issue why would they let the cars leave when they check the pressures before the start and they aren't right. 

When asked about it, Seb says it's not fair they ask the drivers about it and focus on that instead of the race that happened. As for the fairness of disqualifying a driver for that he says at the end of the day there are things the drivers can do wrong and things the team can do wrong. He also says Lewis was the quickest today. (And a lot of other things obvi.) She says he gave Arrivabene a very long hug and they joke about the awkwardness of not wanting to be the one to break a hug too soon. He says they're both emotional people. He says he's not typically a hugging person but Arrivabene deserved a hug. 

OH MY GOOOODDDABYVSGAH Massa starts his interview and Natalie reacts to something and it's his son right behind him and Massa grabs him off the ground and kisses him repeatedly in the neck and it's so very cute. (At this point I hadn’t seen the other postrace where the kid was already there, that’s why I got so excited lol). Natalie says well done daddy and the kid says well done in the mic while hugging his dad's leg. About the pressure issue Massa justly says the rules are the rules and fair or not is not the question, it's not his place to say and it won't change anything to the way he feels about his race and how happy he is. 

Paddy Lowe is with Brundle. He says they told the stewards everything they did during the afternoon. He's standing with his arms crossed and he doesn't uncross them even as he does hands gestures which creates a bit of a weird vibe body language wise. The stewards are reviewing it and we're still waiting for the decision. He asks what they can do to protest the decision basically and Paddy says he won't go into that because it's better to just wait and see what they say. He says they operated completely normally and the tyre pressures limits were set slightly higher for this event (in part because of what happened with the tyres blow out in the last race) because the durity of the circuit, and so the only difference from normal is they operated on a different number but everything else was the same and they never had any issue with that process before. Brundle asks if it's a safety issue why did they not make them pull the cars back in if the pressures were low. Paddy says he doesn't wanna comment on that. 

Simon received an email in the meantime saying that in GP2 a driver was excluded from the results that weekend because his tyres’ pressures were too low. So it's really not looking good.

For some reason we hear again from Lewis that all the teams are trying to run as low as possible, and he takes Sebastian as an example. He says the team will explain to him later what happened but whatever the outcome is today they're usually faultless and he's still grateful for their work that weekend. In that same interview he's asked if you'd feel 1.1 like for Nico's and he says yes definitely. He says when you change the pressure you use different patches on the tyre so you'd feel it. She says it must have been a nice position to be in to be so relaxed you're asking if you can save the engine. He says he's always thinking of the engine, all weekend. Like in practice once he gets the info he needs he's done, he doesn't want to do more laps than he needs. He says if you look at the number of laps at the end he's always doing less than Nico just because he's trying to save his engine. He really wanted to take care of his new engine, he wants it to last him to the end of the year so he's looking after it. She asks about the last few laps that sounded difficult for him (ooooh girlie I don't know who you are but I like you) she asks how difficult it is to trust the team in such situations. "Trusting the team is never ever an issue," he says categorically. "I just– when you're in the car you've got a limit to the amount of information" you can handle, so in his mind he's trying to come up with the reasons why they are asking him to do what they're asking him to do rather than focus on the job, he can't help it. Then he felt the car sliding around so he's thinking "damn".

Crofty says they received a document sent by Pirelli to the teams about the adjusted pressure limits for the weekend saying it's measured before the start on the assumption it will go up rather than down during the race but they were monitored and if at any points during the weekend they'd noticed that the pressure went down instead they would change the limit for a higher one to compensate that. So it shows that Pirelli had suspicions that the pressure would behave a certain way on this track. 

I'm just forwarding a lot of waiting around there. The post race video lasts 2 full hours by itself, for reference. They don't know how to fill their broadcast anymore. 

In his press conference Toto says it was not a mistake from the team, the tyres were at the minimum limit when they put them on the cars, and there was a discrepancy in the readings. Oh so apparently there's no penalty? I don't know when it was announced lol all that waiting for that. Brundle asks Toto how concerned he was. He says you're always nervous when you're called to the stewards. Now all the journalists are saying "of course we knew Mercedes hadn't done anything wrong we always said something must have happened with the tyres after they were pressurised" but lmao that's not what any of you were saying before. Ted comes through with the details : "The stewards have determined that the pressure in the tyres concerned were at the minimum starting pressure recommended by Pirelli when they were fitted to that car. In making this determination regarding the pressure, the stewards noted that the tyre warming blankets had been disconnected from their power source as is normal procedure and the tyres were significantly below the maximum permitted tyre blanket temperature at the time of the FIA's measurements on the grid and at significantly different temperatures from other cars measured on the grid. Further, the stewards are satisfied that the team followed the currently specified procedure supervised by the tyre manufacturer for the safe operation of the tyres. Therefore the stewards decide to take no further action. Nevertheless, the stewards recommend that the tyre manufacturer and the FIA hold further meetings to provide clear guidance to the teams on measurement protocols."

Phew.

[thepropertylovers]

A Family-Filled Fun Day

Yesterday felt like it was the perfect way to spend a day with our kids before we leave to go out of town.

In case you don’t follow us on Instagram, we mentioned earlier this week that we’re leaving to go out of the country today actually (!), and it will be the longest we’ve ever been away from the kids. And we’re nervous. We’ve never been away from them for more than three of four days, so the thought of being gone eight or nine days feels strange.

We keep asking them if they will be okay or if they think they will miss us too badly and be sad or scared, but (luckily) they just keep saying they can’t wait for us to leave so they can do things like stay up a little later and chew gum, haha. They will be staying with our moms as they take turns watching them for the next week and a half, and they are a little less strict than we are, which I’m happy about. Everyone needs a break every now and then.

So I think we’re the ones who will have a hard time being away from them for so long, which I am also happy about. I would much rather us be the ones crying over them than the other way around.

Yesterday was spent with fun and exciting times with each of the kids in a totally unplanned way. We started with Allan.

His entire 2nd grade class took a field trip to our farm!! That’s right, we had 40 or so eight year olds running around Ocoee Farm and it was the biggest burst of joy for a few hours. They all took turns petting the chickens and holding goslings (they found a way to keep pooping on me over and over again). They fed the sheep and pigs carrots and celery and laughed/screamed when the donkeys sneezed on them.

Allan had a blast showing the kids around the farm, his playground when he gets home from school every day. I know how much joy he must have felt to have all of his friends and teachers in his happy place, a place he’s been to a million times but that they’re seeing with fresh, curious eyes. To him, it’s his backyard. To them, it was the reason for an entire field trip.

There was time for a Q&A and PJ answered about 100 questions on the pavilion about our animals and the farm. It was so cute to hear their little questions about everything and nothing. I love the way kids’ minds work. So curious. And PJ did so well!! He used to be a camp counselor and is used to speaking to and educating groups of kids, so he was a natural. All his old training came back to him, or seemingly never left? Either way, he was fabulous.

Beau was there to help out, too, and even grabbed some photos of the morning. Thank you so much, Beau!!!

After that, we got a message from Anna’s teacher saying they would be getting out of school early because their A/C is broken and it was 80 degrees in their classroom. Yikes. So we headed to the school to get her. We spent an hour with our girl, just the three of us, as we listened to her tell us about her day and watched her eat her new favorite snack: a giant heated-up-in-the-microwave marshmallow. The girl has an affinity for sweets.

After about an hour and a half, it was time to head back to school for Riah’s kindergarten program. It’s crazy to me that he will be in FIRST grade next year. What? How? When did this happen and where was I? Our youngest son can’t be in first grade already. Time hasn’t made sense for the last few years, but the fact that he will be a first grader in just a few months is something my brain can’t comprehend.

We sat in the first row as he and his classmates performed quite a few songs in front of a crowded auditorium of proud parents and supportive family members. It was the cutest. Riah had the biggest smile on his face the whole time, in between looking a little reserved and nervous. He did so well, though. There was also a slideshow of the whole year with the background music being “Never Grow Up” by Taylor Swift, which was a perfect choice by his teacher, if I do say so myself.

Then it was time for certificates. The principal called each of the kindergartners’ names and they took turns walking across the stage, collecting their certificate in the process. Before kids, I had always thought of kindergarten graduations as pointless and silly. Now though, I thought it was the sweetest thing ever, and I know we were both so proud of him for such a wonderful year. He has had the best teacher and we wish she was still going to be in the same position next year so that Anna could have her!

After his program, we checked him and Allan out of school for the rest of the day to spend it together at home before we all headed out to eat and go to Walmart for last minute things before our trip.

Now we are at the airpot waiting for our flight, and I am writing this from one of the seats in the terminal. It’s only been a few hours but we’re already missing them so badly. Walking through the airport and seeing all the little kids running around with their little suitcases is only reminding us of traveling with our kids, and how much we love it. They do so well in airports and on planes and it really is so fun to travel and take them places and show them somewhere new. Hoping for a lot of that this summer!!

Next time we check in will be from Barcelona, so here’s to a safe flight!!!

[zeropointfourorless]

Candy and Sickness (I feel bad about feeling bad and I'm writing about it)

I grew up sickly, and crying because I could not eat candy, or at least as much as a 4-year-old would want to. I would often be found staring at the closed fridge door like an addict, feeling simultaneously guilty for wanting to eat candy and sad for not being able to. I knew it was bad for me, the dentist, the doctors, and the school nurse all said the same and I, above everything in my life, want to make people happy and do what they tell me to do. So I didn’t eat all that much candy at all. A single piece of candy a day was all I rationed myself. I think sometimes I could make those single-serving boxes of raisins last three days.

When I got into acting school, the production team would be lovely and leave us a little bag of sweets and treats. I would hoard these up (I still have candy from my first production three years ago somewhere I think) and would feel simultaneously guilty for wanting to eat them and not eating them. The only time I ever indulged in them was when I was drunk and there were no more chips in the house.

I guess the core of it is, perhaps I misunderstood something about stoicism or zen buddhism. I don’t believe that I deserve to feel any better than I do, which isn’t very good at all, and I don’t want to receive any kindness or understanding from the people that I work with, the people I’m friends with and the people who I love and love me in return.

Which is a problem, of course.

Especially when you’re sick.

Nobody likes being sick, of course, but I never know what to do with the well wishes. I think people think poorly of me when I’m ill, which is stupid because I would never think that of them. I’m a big advocate of the whole “take the week off if you feel even a sniffle coming along” because, without going into it, historically school and work have been so cruel and awful in the way we treat sick people. Being in the performing arts especially, it was drilled into me from a very young age that “if you’re not in the hospital you show up and do the show”. Which is awful. I hate it and it’s toxic. So I do genuinely take people’s word at face value when they’re sick. Even when I was in the army and people started falling ill at convenient times, or when classmates had to dip because they were feeling vaguely ill. I know how good a show I can put up, I know I can push through a lot of pain and illness, until I know I can’t anymore.

And recently, I couldn’t anymore, and I feel awful for that.

I think it has everything to do with the candy problem. Perhaps in my mind, human kindness and friendship are like a piece of candy, and I feel guilty every time I want it, ask for it, or God forbid, need it. It’s only in writing it out right now that I hear how silly this line of thinking sounds, but that is the absurdity that I live with. I’m working on it…

[bettysupremacy]

Battle of the bands

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Requested by: @sydshea thank you so much!! This idea was adorable.

Summary: Eddie and Y/N hate each other, but what happens when they’re forced to see each other daily because of 4 meddling pre-teens?

Warnings: mentions of food and going hungry, cursing, fem! Reader, Max and R are close, some angst, mostly fluff I’d say. Tell me if I missed any!

A/N: i love max mayfield, also, I’m scared to post this.

6.6k words.. I went overboard.

The orange overhead lights reflect down on the dingy bar, buzzing and flickering from old age. It casts shadows on the grime of the establishment, the years of muck Miss Lee can’t wipe away with a wet dish rag. But it’s also what makes this bar so familiar, homelike, with its flaws.

Even so, The Hideout isn’t at peak homeliness right now, not with two indignant voices cutting through the quiet of closing time.

“You’re so full of shit, Munson.”

“I’m full of shit?” He scoffs, “we clearly won that.”

The argument playing out is futile. She won, he didn’t, and he can’t accept it. There’s nothing he can say or do that’ll change it. Most customers have left though, so Eddie doesn’t feel as bad for the public conniption he’s having right now.

“You’re such a sore loser, it hurts to watch.”

“I am not a sore loser-“

“Then what is this, Edward?” She thrusts her hand between them, back and forth, as if the argument will materialize before them. He always hated when she used his full name. “You’re such a great sport that the moment I get off stage you’re demanding my win- my bands win, was a rig?”

He takes a step back. It sounds so cruel coming out of her mouth. And wasn’t he being cruel? Following her around demanding she admit his set, that had significantly less covers, was better then hers. They had never been outright friends, but damn, couldn’t he have just been happy for her?

“No, I-“

Arms wrap around Y/N from the back, squeezing her in childlike glee. She blinks from being pulled out of the argument, not from the unfamiliarity of the arms. She knows who’s warm fidgeting fingers are being pushed Into her stomach.

“You won!” Max’s words come out muffled, face squished into the leather of Y/N’s jacket, but she can still detect the elation in them. It sends waves of warmth through her chest.

This is a rare outing for Max. She had to beg, plead, and bargain with Max to come watch her perform tonight. She refuses to let Eddie Munson ruin this.

She turns in her arms, squishing Max’s cheeks together childishly, watching as Max laughs deep from her chest.

“We won, baby!”

“I could argue with that.”

Her head whips, “Cork it, Munson!”

Max ignores him, arms still wrapped around Y/N’s stomach, chin now digging into the older girls chest.

The wicked smile on Max’s face gives away any secrecy to her schemes. “Can we get celebratory ice cream?”

Y/N yanks on a red pigtail of Max’s. “Who’s paying Maxie?”

“Steve.”

“Oh, then definitely.”

“I heard my name?”

Max is sucked into a conversation with Steve. Quick banter flying back and forth as Max tries to convince Steve that he definitely said he was buying them ice cream earlier.

Y/N notices Eddie from the corner of her eye, grabbing a guitar case, and walking out of The Hideout with the other members of his band. Sad, but none so much as Eddie, they pat backs and mumble reassurances to their oldest member.

Something tugs in her heart. Irritation maybe? But it feels different. There’s more ache and confusion than Irritation. A longing to run out after him and beg for forgiveness.

But what did she have to be sorry for? Winning the local battle of the bands? Doing a better cover of War Pigs than him? No, Eddie could come and apologize on his own time.

“I never said that?”

“Yeah, in the car, while we were passing steel works”

He looks at her unblinking, racking his brain for any sort of memory that backs her up.

“Yeah you did.” Dustin’s voice chimes in, walking up after saying goodbye to Eddie.

Did he really?

“Where were we passing?” He asks skeptical.

“Uh- steel works was it?” Dustin looks to Max for any sign of a hint, shoulders squaring more confidently when she nods profusely at him.

Steve sighs loudly, “Fine, but eat quick and don’t let it drip. I’ve gotta get you shitheads home before curfew and I don’t want my car sticky. Got it?”

Both the children give barely coherent shouts of agreement, before running to Lucas, evidently telling him what they scammed their poor old babysitter into.

Steve turns his head to Y/N, quippy insult towards the kids dead on his tongue when he notices the far look in her eyes. He nudges her with his elbow gently, quietly begging for attention.

“You ready to go? I heard a rumor that I said yes to ice cream while driving past steel works, I’m not sure it’s true though.”

She nods, looping her arm through his.

“What should I get?”

“What ice cream?”

They start walking to the doors. “Mhm.”

“You know what I’m getting.” He looks smirky, and she knows exactly where this is going.

“Don’t say it, Harrington.”

“That eggnog flavor sounds real goo-“

She smothers her hands over his mouth, giggling like a maniac.

“That’s nasty. You’re nasty.”

He licks her palms and a twinge of disgust laces through her giggles. Pulling her hands back quickly, she tries to wipe them on her jeans, but he grabs her wrists gently and wipes her palms on his polo.

“So nasty, I know, I’m sorry.” He’s giggling too.

This was the first time she almost realized her staggering feelings for Eddie Munson.

—

The second time was at sticky hot a pool day.

She’s laying in Steve’s backyard, red bikini on, and matching red heart sunglasses adorning her face. Max lay next to her, in the new purple bathing suit Y/N had bought for her at the mall last week.

The purple makes your hair pop out, she had insisted, so Max let her buy it.

She’d even borrowed purple heart sunglasses from Y/N, sliding them on in the mirror of Steve’s cold bathroom, feeling pleased when she saw how well her and Y/N matched.

When they’d been standing in the kitchen and Y/N had pulled them out of her bag, she said “If you want them, of course.”, like she wasn’t everything Max yearned to be. She had narrowly missed Lucas and Mikes popsicle sticky fingers when they had asked for a look.

“Come in the water?” Lucas yelled out, hopeful and rosy, watching his girlfriend lay a towel next to Y/N. Max gives a curt shake of her head, ruby-red pig tails bouncing and glimmering in the sun.

“I think I’m gonna lay out for a little.” She had her hand up, shielding her eyes from the sun.

And with that, she laid back down, pushed her glasses up, and clicked play on her Walkman, not noticing the disappointment on her boyfriends face.

The older girl watches him swim towards Mike, dejection clear in his shoulders.

She knows that I’ve been doing something wrong, but she won’t say anything.

Y/N wrinkles her nose at Kate Bush again, but ignores it. Max has been putting the money Y/N spent on her new Hounds Of Love cassette to good use.

“He’s cute.”

“Huh?”

“Lucas. He’s sweet on you.”

Mortification sweeps Max’s face.

“What?” Y/N teases, “Haven’t yo-“

Affronted shrieks suddenly bubble past her lips at the feeling of cold water cooling on her warm skin. Max, who had been caught in the crossfire, isn’t as upset as Y/N. The water had felt nice after so long in the sun, but affronted shrieks leave her lips as well.

What if her cherished new purple glasses had been ruined?

Lucas rolls his eyes at his girls obvious display of impersonation.

Eddie stands there in the July sun, entirely too happy with himself, water gun hanging limply at his side.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

She wipes off her lenses with a part of the towel that managed to escape the spray of water, and slides them back on.

“Are your frames wet, baby?” She mutters to Max, waiting for the shake of her head before looking up at him again, offended.

He’s not wearing jeans, she notices.

The black swim shorts with skulls hug his thighs perfectly, cinched at the waist. When he brings a hand to his eyes, squinting at her through the sun, his black Metallica shirt rides up, showing her a very obscene view of his happy trail. The shoes on his feet aren’t his normal reeboks, they’re flip flops. And he’s got a towel tucked under his right arm, the same one he’s got shielding his eyes from the sun. He looks good.

He isn’t blind to the way she checks him out, head to toe, and he isn’t going to let it go unnoticed either. But, a wry “I know I look good, sweetheart.” Is hesitated on his tongue when he looks her up and down himself.

Shit, He thinks, that red bikini.

“Hello?”

He makes slow eye contact with her, and then with Max, who’s looking almost as offended as Y/N.

“I saw an opportunity and took it, Fast Times.”

If Steve had heard him say that.

“Fast Times?” Max asks, confusion threading her eyebrows together.

The boys in the water, save Dustin, are giggling, and embarrassment pools in her belly. Thick and warm. Thick and deep. It rises into her throat like bread rising in an oven, making it hard for her to speak or think of a witty response.

“Wow, nice one John Bender. Is that one original or did we steal it from Steve?” The end of the sentence didn’t sound as mean as she wanted it to sound.

“Your boyfriend Steve?” Eddie scoffs jealously, “If I’m John Bender, who does that make you? L-“

“Hey, hey, hey.” Steve’s voice comes from behind them, “What���s going on out here?”

Both Y/N and Eddie look like deer caught in headlights, two reprimanded children that don’t know what to do with themselves.

Robin is behind him, wearing a black one piece. She was going to lay out with the girls before they got in, but was caught up with Steve in the kitchen.

“Well?”

Max had seen the embarrassment on Y/N’s face when Eddie had given her that nickname. It was weird though. It seemed more like a cat call on his tongue, rather than an insult.

“Steve?” Max ask’s. Everyone looks to her, confusion clear on their faces.

“Yes?”

“What’s Fast Times? Like the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High?” Innocence seeps and clings onto every word, “Cause Eddie just called Y/N ‘Fast Times’, and I was confused cause I’ve never seen the movie.”

Truth be told, Max actually hadn’t seen it, and she certainly doesn’t know what Pheobe Cates does to her red bikini at 53 minutes 5 seconds. But it seemed derogatory, and she wasn’t having it.

The boys in the water are stifling their laughs now, wet hands grasping at their mouths, as Eddie glares.

“Hey!” Robin points an accusatory finger. “Stop laughing, or I’ll eat the last two purple popsicles myself, and you’ll be left with orange.”

Giggles can no longer be heard.

Steve takes a better look at what Y/N is wearing, to the red bathing suit that’s still clinging to her. The cough he covers up is noticiable.

Is he kidding? Robin is disgusted.

“Nice one, Steve.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” He has the gall to give her a bewildered look.

Eddie takes this as a chance to peak at the crimson polyester again. Fuck.

He looks away, an abashed pink blotching onto his cheeks.

“Really?” Steve asks Eddie.

He doesn’t know if he’s referring to the joke or the way he just eyed Y/N, but he’s going to assume the latter, because of the sickened look on Robs face.

“It was a joke! Way t’rat me out, Red.”

“Don’t blame this on the kid.”

She smiles pridefully.

“Not around the kids. I’m serious.”

He turns back and walks into his house again, hand on his hip the whole way there.

And like that, the quick moments where Y/N may have thought she felt something for Eddie were gone. Gone with the 30 minutes of peace she had before he showed up.

—

The third time, her obliviousness smacked her so hard in the face, she stumbled back.

Hot summer days in Hawkins almost always mean you have plans, especially when you’re the co parent of four fifteen year-olds.

Dustin and Lucas had been on her doorstep 8am sharp, rattling off day plans loudly, like it was well into the afternoon.

“-And we figured, after we pick up Mike-“

“And Max.” Lucas chimes in.

Dustin turns his head, looking personally victimized.

“You didn’t let me finish my sentence, if you had-“

“I was just reminding you.”

“I didn’t need reminding. Don’t do tha-“

Their bickering continues, back and forth, back and forth, as Y/N rubs sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Are you even listening to anything we’re saying?” Dustin and Lucas look at her, accusation clear in their eyes.

The slow tired eyes blinking back at them confirm it, she hadn’t been listening.

“It’s okay,” Dustin starts politely, “I’ll just tell you the plan from the beginning. So-“

“No! No, no, no,” She sticks her hand out to quiet him, “I got the part where-“ she pauses, “And then you said-“ another pause and eye rub, “Yeah, so just pick up from the part where we pick up Maxie.”

They stare at her in bewilderment, and her chest tightens with doubt. They didn’t say anything about Max, did they?

“You said we’re picking up Max, didn’t you-?”

Dustin cuts her off, “No, yeah, so basically-“ he rattles off the day plans again, pausing in increments to make sure he’s still got her attention.

She invites them inside in the middle of Dustin’s monologue, watching the way he doesn’t break his talk as both boys toe off their shoes well-manneredly, before walking deeper into her house, clad in just socks.

“Did you two have breakfast yet?” She asks, hanging around her stairs rails, before she goes upstairs to change.

They both eye her suspiciously.

“Are you offering to cook for us?” Lucas holds back a grimace.

Dustin smacks him in the chest and glares, “We haven’t. We would love it.. if thats what you were offering.”

She looks between the two boys, Lucas’s grimace is peaking through.

“No, I’ll buy you two McDonald’s.” She starts hopping up the stairs, yelling out “They stop serving breakfast at 10am right?”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s excited voice rings out, “And it’s only 8:30!”

Oh joy.

—

“Max orders pancakes with extra syrup on the side, and orange juice.” Lucas whispers in her ear as she pulls up to the drive through.

“Did you just tell me Max’s order?”

“Yeah?” Did he do something wrong? “I-“

“I know Max’s order, Lucas.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” He sits back in his seat, buckling up again as she pulls towards the window.

“Yeah, Lucas,” Mike mocks, “She knows Max’s order.”

“So, I’m gonna drop you guys off at Steve’s before I get Max.” She drives around the building, towards the main road.

“What? Why?”

“You won’t all fit in my car.” It’s a good excuse, she has to admit.

“But-“

“I know you like the way daddy cuts your pancakes, but mommy has to do it today, cause I’m dropping you off at his house first.”

Dustin grumbles.

—

First thing she sees when she pulls up is Max’s Madrid skateboard, abandoned and upside down on the cement path to her home. The yellow wheels more caked with dirt then she remembers them being last time.

She can still hear Max’s staticky voice from months ago. She had called Y/N whining and complaining, in the middle of the night, to tell her how her mother lectured her for leaving it in this very spot.

Come on Max.

She goes out of her way to walk up the crunchy gravel and pick it up, hands scratching at the rough surface of its grip. She flexes her fingers, shifting them uncomfortably. It’s wet, though it hasn’t rained in a week.

Gross.

She takes a peak at her fingers, startled to find different shades of sticky red coating them.

There’s blood on it.

“Max?” She yells, running into the home, fear spiking through her as she thinks about Max alone in here. Alone and hurt. But no one’s home.

“Max?” She yells again, it’s frantic, and cracks halfway through at the way her breathing has picked up. She spins looking for any sign of her.

“Max, baby? Are you outside?” The skateboard is discarded in the grass as Y/N jogs behind the trailer, and then back to the front.

There’s a sob. A choked, struggling sob, from the left end of Eddie’s trailer, and she runs towards it.

“Max-?”

She pauses at the scene before her. Max is propped up against the end of his house, two bloody knees bent so that her arms can hug around them, while Eddie crouches to console her.

“She told me to be more careful, Y/N told me not to skate on the gravel.” Her shoulders are shaking so hard Eddie brings a hand to one, giving it some pressure like that’ll help. “I should’ve listened, I should’ve- she’s going to be so mad.”

“What?” Eddie asks, teasing tone peaking through unwillingly, “She won’t be mad. She’ll get really concerned, and have that look on her face- you know the one?”

“The one where she?” Max mimics a face, humoring him, but Y/N can’t see it.

“Yes!” He takes his hand back, to stick it over his stomach as he laughs. “And she’ll be really bossy to everyone who isn’t you, and take my shitty bandaid job off to clean your battle wounds diligently.”

The mention of her cuts has Max looking down at her throbbing palms for the first time.

“My hands.” Max sobs, sticking her palms out for Eddie to inspect. She can’t see, but judging by the look on his face, they’re just as bloody as her knees and cheek.

He sucks in air through his teeth, shaking his head morosely, “I’m no doctor, Red, but I’d say amputation is a serious consideration right now.”

Her laugh is a startled half laugh - half sob.

He takes her wrists into his hands gently, blowing on her scrapes lightly. “Does that feel good? Hmm?”

She nods, sniffling, and he lets go of her wrists to grasp at the underside of her knees. It’s a careful inspection, eyes drifting over the damaged and bruised skin.

He blows lightly at her knees too, thumb absentmindedly coming up to brush some dirt away. “Does it hurt?”

She nods again, realizing he can’t see it, and letting her raspy voice mumble “Yes.”

He looks up at her in pity, eyes catching on the checkered scratch bleeding down her cheek and forming in a drip down her chin.

He grabs her chin in his large hand, wiping the blood off with his thumb, and moving her face too the side. “Oh, what are we going to do with you?” He shakes his head.

Standing up, he brushes the blood off on his jeans, before holding his hands out to her.

“Up you go, Pippi Longstocking, can’t you stand?”

Max nods, letting him grab her elbows to avoid the injuries, and pull her up into his grasp.

“I’m gonna get you a water bottle, it’s too hot out here.”

It hits Y/N so suddenly, the ardor.

Hits her harder than the water from Eddie’s water gun. Harder than Steve shoving her into his pool. Harder then the embarrassment of yelling with Eddie in The Hideout.

It bubbles in her stomach like soda, rising into her chest and popping. She brushes her sweaty palms off on her summer shorts, desperately trying to get rid of the tingle embedded in her palms.

She wants this. This domesticity with Eddie. It hurts to think about, she’s been shoving it down for so long it threatens to make her lightheaded.

Watching him treat Max like a China doll. Blowing cold air on her wounds and distracting her from the pain of them. Him telling Max he’s getting her a bottle of water, to stave off dehydration in the Hawkins July sun.

She stumbles back, she needs to get out of here, she can help Max when Eddie gets her to her own home. She can’t face Eddie, not like this. The trash can lid behind her feet lodges under her foot, skewing her balance, throwing her on her ass.

“I know I’m a good doctor, but geez Ladies, get in line.”

She looks up dazed, Jesus fucking Christ, the universe can’t let her have one thing?

“Shit, are you okay?” Eddie drops the act, concern peaking through more.

“Yeah,” She rasps, “I’m.. I’m good.”

Max and Eddie reach her and he holds out a hand. One hand under Max’s armpit, the other being graciously offered to her. She looks at him like she’s seen a ghost.

“I don’t think you’re okay.” He says gently, bending to grab her hand off the hot asphalt. She snatches it. An instinct, rather than rejection. “Nope. You’re feeling fine.” He looks at Max, giving her a crooked grin, wild bewilderment in his eyes.

“Did y’see that, Pip?”

The warmth of a palm against his own makes him flinch. Looking down, she’s got her right hand in his left. It’s hot because of the asphalt below her, but he can’t bring himself to care. The way her fingers are curling gently around his own, tugging in want, is enough to make his head foggy.

“Are you gonna help me up, or what?”

He grips her fingers tighter and pulls her up, staring at their entwined hands. Somethings shifted, and he can feel it.

“Thank you, Dr. Munson.” She can’t look him in the eyes, opting to focus on Max. “C’mon, Maxie. Lets get you cleaned up.”

Her arms are opened wide and Max hobbles into them, letting Y/N guide her to the house. Looking back, Y/N sees that Eddie hasn’t moved. He’s standing in the exact same spot, staring at his left hand.

“Are you coming in?”

He looks up quickly, “You want me to?”

She cant even be offended by the stun in his voice. “Well, someone needs to hold down the patient.”

Max swats her arm. “No one needs to hold me down.”

—

“Stop bleeding, clean, disinfect, bandage. Stop bleeding, clean, disinfect, bandage-“

Y/N try’s to remember the order of treating a wound. Stop bleeding, clean, disinfect, bandage. Or was it stop bleeding, disinfect, clean, bandage?

Eddie throws his head back dramatically, with his hands over his eyes. “Oh my god. Get to it already.” His knee is bouncing impatiently and Y/N didn’t even know that could happen standing up.

“Can you shut the fuck up? Cause I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do. Misses disinfect, bandage, clean, stop bleeding-“

“No way that came out of your mouth and you thought ‘yeah that sounds right’”

Eddie flushes in embarrassment, deadpanning “Your patient is dying on your watch.”

Max watches them bicker in confusion, from atop her bathroom sink. She thought they despised Eddie, right? That was the whole mission, wasn’t it? And sure, they were bickering like two school children right now, but she couldn’t have helped but sense something deeper in it.

Something that’s been compressed. Something close to fond.

It’s like watching an old married couple fight.

There’s affection under all that squabbling, and Max isn’t sure how she hadn’t seen it before. Maybe it was because they hid it so well, or maybe it was because the two besotted teenagers were really just that unaware of their own feelings.

Oh my god, Max thinks, they’re idiots.

“Hand me the antiseptic.”

“The what?”

“Big red spray bottle.”

“Im not stupid, you don’t have to say it like that.”

“What else was I supposed to say? You don’t know what antiseptic is.”

“It was the tone.”

She ignores him, placing her hand on the back of Max’s head. “This is gonna hurt, honey.”

Max grimaces at the pet name being used in public, well, in front of Eddie.

“I can take it.”

“I know.” She murmurs, focused on pointing the bottle in the right direction. “Shit, I’m sorry, does it burn much?”

Max’s face scrunches tight in discomfort.

“Way to go, Dr. L/N.”

“I didn’t see you holding down the patient, wasn’t that like, your only job?”

Eddie falls silent.

“I’m gonna do your hands now, baby, deep breath.”

She’s more prepared this time, both Max and Y/N. She sprays it and Max’s eye twitches, but not much else.

“Can you get the bandaids for me, Eddie?” Y/N looks up, quickly, before looking to Max. “Jem and the holograms or teenage mutant ninja turtles?”

Max frowns.

“What is it, Hon?”

“Do you still have the Tom and Jerry pack in your car?”

“Yes. Eddie, they’re in my glove compartment, under the books ‘n stuff.”

Eddie. He doesn’t think that he’s heard her call him by his nickname.. ever. And now she has. Twice.

Munson, Edward, John bender, but never Eddie. It flows so easily off her tongue. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He’s heard his name in plenty of different mouths, but this one was by far his favorite.

He makes eye contact with Max over Y/N’s head. Both of their eyes widened by the same slip up. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

“What?” Y/N looks up.

“Nothin, nothin.”

He walks out, a lightness in his step that has Y/N raising her eyebrows at him.

“What’s up with him?”

“Eddie?” There’s a hint of knowing in her voice that Y/N doesn’t like.

“Who else?”

“Do you give all your patients attitude?”

“I apologize.”

She swipes the counter clean. Toilet paper and alcohol pads crushed cruelly between her fingers.

“So,” Max kicks her heals against the cabinets, looking so faux innocent, Y/N can’t help the bemused smile growing on her face.

“Yes?”

“When’d you get interested in Munson?”

A startled gasp is ripped from Y/N’s throat.

“I mean, I thought we told each other everything!”

“We do, Maxie-“

“I told you when Lucas kissed me in the empty chemistry lab! I told you when I caught Billy and Samantha Keegan in his car after school! I told you wh-“

“Max!”

She’s worked herself up to the point of tears. Frustration that Y/N hasn’t told her about this bubbling over, like a shaken soda, and threatening to leak out of her eyes.

This is so stupid, Max thinks*, So what Y/N didn’t tell her one silly little thing? It’s not like they’re real sisters.*

The last sentence sticks in her head, winding tighter and tighter around her, like an unwelcome hug. It squeezes air out of her, head fuzzy with shallow breaths.

It’s not like they’re real sisters.

“Max, baby, what’s going on?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Y/N reassures, “If it’s making you feel like this, it isn’t stupid at all.”

“I just-“ Her arms itch to wrap around herself, but her wounds halt it. Her eyes close, frustration and impatience getting the best of her.

“Remember what Ms. Kelley said? You gotta open up with me, tell me what’s wrong, tell me if you’ve been feeling.. bad.” Oh nice one.

“I don’t like Ms. Kelley, wait-“ Max’s opens her eyes confusedly, “How do you know about Ms. Kelley?”

Embarrassment floods Y/N’s features, nose scrunching like a girl who just revealed something she shouldn’t have.

“Remember when I went to your parent teacher conference for you?”

“Oh my god.”

“I was worried, baby!”

Max recoils in embarrassment, the back of her hand coming up to cover the bridge of her nose. Y/N grabs her wrists, careful of the un-bandaged wounds, and tugs.

“She came up to me and asked if I was your sister, obviously I said yes, and we talked!”

“You talked?” The look on her face is nothing but alarmed, but she can’t deny the warmth swarming her chest. Obviously I said yes.

“She caught me up on what she’s working on with you, and she may write me letters-“

“Letters?”

“Just like- how you’ve been, and a copy of your current grades.”

“Holy shit, that’s got to be illegal.”

“Not when I’m your sister.” She gives Max a goofy smile.

Max glares with no real heat. This whole time she had someone looking out for her. It wasn’t just a drunk mother who doesn’t care about Max’s grades. It wasn’t just an absent mother who was almost never home, leaving her to make dinner for herself.

It was Y/N, who was her older sister at parent teacher conferences. It was Y/N, who came over at 9pm with groceries and take out when Max called her hungry one night. Max’s mom hadn’t gone shopping in the last week, and the last thing she had eaten was soggy pizza and tater tots, at 11 that morning.

Guilt chokes Max.

She wasn’t alone. She had Y/N, who took her back-to-school shopping when her mom was at work. She had Y/N, who kept up with her therapist and schoolwork, making sure she kept on track.

She had Y/N, who was her sister.

She flings her arms around her startled older sister, ignoring the searing pain in her hands when it makes contact with the cotton of Y/N’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry.” Max sobs into Y/N’s hair. “I’m s-so sorry.”

“What on gods green earth could you be sorry for?” She wraps her arms around Max, swaying soothingly.

“You told me not to skate on gravel!”

“I’m only a little upset about that!” Y/N jokes, though, it doesn’t land. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Maxie. Banged up, yes, but okay.”

Max sobs again, shoulders racked with them.

“I don’t appreciate you enough.”

“You appreciate me just enough! You have nothing to feel sorry for.”

“Not even for getting blood on your shirt?”

“Oh now you’re crossing the line,” She chastises, pulling away with mock disgust on her face. Max laughs wetly, watching her try to see the back of her shirt.

Turning back she’s satisfied when she sees the smile on Max’s face. She wipes the tears from Max’s cheeks, shaking her head no when Max opens her mouth to protest. “No, not even for getting blood on my raggedy tee.”

“Because you’re my sister?” Max asks, embarrassed when she sees the realization click in Y/N’s head.

“Oh Max.” She pulls her in for another hug, nuzzling her chin where Max’s neck meets her shoulder. “Is that what this is about?”

Max shrugs, noncommittally, wrapping her arms around Y/N again. “Maybe.” It comes out an abashed whisper.

“Oh baby, oh baby.” Y/N rocks them, “I love you so much.”

“But-“

“No!” She pulls back abruptly, holding Max’s shoulders. “No buts! I’d adopt you if I could.”

“You would?” Max yearned for the picture of it.

“Uh, yeah?” Her face twists. “And every night we would eat pizza, and use red vines for straws, while we watch movies that Steve would let us borrow from family video.”

“I’d love that.”

“I don’t think CPS would.”

Max cracks a grin. “I love you.”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head. “I love you more.”

“Eddie is taking a long time.”

“Christ almighty.” Y/N looks at the Scooby-Doo watch the kids bought her for Christmas. “What’s taking him so long?”

She looks around the bathroom before looking back at Max. “Should I check?”

“Yeah,” Max croaks from crying. “He’s probably snooping in your car.”

“Oh my god, he is.” She stands up abruptly, patting Max’s head, before rushing out the bathroom door.

He’s leaning against her passenger door, back against the window, legs crossed casually, reading a magazine she left in her glove compartment.

Nothing will beat the horrified look on her face when she walks closer and sees which one.

She lunges for it, grasping air when Eddie easily swerves her.

“Nuh- uh” Eddie taunts, lifting the arm with the magazine into the air.

It flies high above their heads in the unforgiving grip of Eddie’s hand, wind flapping at the flimsy pages. The brazen smolder of the critically acclaimed musician mocks her.

Special Issue: The Hottest in Music, Movies, TV

The Rolling Stones

Heart Throb:

Bon Jovi

He walks over to her, closer and closer, until she takes his place against the car.

“You’ve got a thing for Jovi?”

This is so humiliating, this is so humiliating, this is so humiliating.

“Dustin told me that you had a thing for Kirk Hammett, but Bon Jovi?”

Dustin! That fucking traitor.

Pelvis to pelvis their hips touch, close enough to be indecent. She watches as their hip bones jab into each other.

He searches for her eyes. “He kind of looks like me, no?”

The smile on his face is awful.

“No, he doesn’t.” She jumps for it, but Eddie moves his arm out of reach. “He’s much cuter then you. Hand it over, Edward.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No. Give it.”

“Maybe it was something about the hair?” He presses. “I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe if it was just Kirk, but Kirk and Jovi? I think we’re seeing a pattern.”

She covers her eyes, embarrassment heavy in the movement. “I don’t have a thing for you. Please give it to me.”

He hands her the magazine, biting his tongue when she snatches it. “What if I wanted you to?”

“What?”

“What?” He looks around confusedly, “Was it something I said?”

“You’re so infuriating.” She tosses the magazine into her car and turns on her heel towards the house.

Quickly, he grabs her wrist, pulling her just as close as she was seconds before.

“And you’re just as pretty as the day I met you.” The magazine gave him a newfound confidence that Y/N thinks no one should have. “How’d you manage?”

“You’re sick and insane.” She scoffs, pulling her arm. How dare he fuck with her feelings like this?

He doesn’t let go.

“You’d let Bon Jovi kiss you?” He pushes hair from her pretty face, tucking it behind her ear.

She sputters. “That is none of your damn business.”

“Would you let me? I’d argue that, that is my business. Being me n’all.”

Startled is the only thing he can read on her face, and any other day he would’ve laughed.

“No?” He looks for her eyes, he won’t kiss her without complete consent.

She shakes her head confusedly.

“No you wouldn’t kiss me, or no you would kiss me?”

“No, I would.”

He taps his ear, moving it closer to her lips. “Speak up baby.”

She pushes his head away, humiliated. “Fuck off.”

“Okay, okay, I heard you. I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“I’m not sorry I heard that. You’re right.”

“I can’t stand yo- mhph!”

His head duck downs quickly, taking her lips to his. The momentum has her quickly grabbing his biceps for support, before kissing back with the same force.

It’s a hard kiss, not rough, but hard.

Her knees buckle and she’s ever grateful for the way the metalhead’s hips are pushing hers against the car. His hands slide from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in hair.

They pull back and look at each other with wild eyes and kiss bitten lips. There’s something in his eyes she can’t decipher, and doesn’t have time to, because of the way he leans down to take her lips in his again.

She can feel his smile against her lips.

“Was it like kissing Bon Jovi?” He asks, pulling back and thumbing at the cherry chapstick she left on his lips. The dazed look in her eyes has him pleased with himself.

“No, it was like kissing you.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I think you’re cuter then Bon Jovi.”

Something shoots through his heart. Damn Cupid.

“My hair has got more volume, I know.”

She laughs, clutching onto his arms, and turning her head away. He wished that she was still looking at him.

Attention hungry, he moves his face into her view. “What?” The smile on his face in infectious, “You think his hair is better then mine?”

“No.” She lets him grab her chin and look at her, giggles still bubbling to the surface. “You’ve got a better voice too.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, ‘specially when you sing that one song and-“

“What song?”

“I was about to sing it for you.”

“Terribly sorry, go on.”

She shakes her head amusedly. “The one where you go ‘your love for me has just got to be real, before you know the way I’m going to feel,’”

She looks at him for any confirmation that he knows the song, but he pretends to be unaware so that she’ll keep singing. It’s not the prettiest singing voice she could do, but she hasn’t really fully recovered from the kiss.

She huffs, but the smile she can’t wipe off gives her away. “‘I’m going to feel, I’m going to feeeeeel, oh yeah!’”

“Oh! That song!”

“Yeah,” She looks very unimpressed. “That song.”

“I sound good singing it?”

“Don’t know how I won over you.”

He clutches his hand to his heart, closing his eyes and shaking his head morosely. “Don’t bring that night up.”

“But-“ Shes huffing giggles again.

“Nuh- uh.” He brings a silencing finger to her lips. “You wound me.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot.” He corrects firmly, planting a kiss on her jaw.

She tilts her head for him. “Such a loser.”

“A loser that you kissed!” He pulls back and she pulls him closer, nuzzling her face in his warm chest, sighing out exasperatedly.

“You know, I-“

“Hello?” A voice rings out, annoyance heavy in it.

Y/N startles, “Shit! Max.”

—

“There’s been an energy shift.” Max wryly drops.

“What?” Y/N looks up from the Tom bandaid she’s sticking above the Jerry bandaid, on Max’s knee.

“What are you talking about, Pippy?”

“There’s been an energy shift,” She looks between them, “You two kissed.”

It’s actually not so much of an energy shift, rather then Max watching them outside the window, but it’s fun to fuck with them. Also, what did they think they were hiding, with the pink sheen on Eddie’s lips?

“Eddie I think our patient is going insane with the pain.”

—

“You kinda look like her.”

“Who?”

Max reaches over to the bandaid Y/N is about to pull the backing off of, plucking it out of her fingers.

“I absolutely do not.”

“What!” She snatches the bandaid back from Max, squinting at it. “You don’t see it?”

“You only think I look like Miss Vavoom because I’m a redhead.”

Y/N cocks her head before sticking it to Max’s awaiting cheek, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. But also that green shirt is really bringing it all together.”

“I guess.”

“You should be her for Halloween!”

“You and Eddie should be Tom and Jerry!” Max says with faux excitement.

“Okay, all right,” She stands up, knees popping, and pats Max’s knee. “let’s get in the car Miss Vavoom.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Y/N helps Max limp to the car, newly covered in Tom and Jerry bandaids. Elbows, knees, palms, and shins covered in dogs, cats, and chicks.

Eddie, who started the car for them, is looking guilty as ever from the passenger seat.

“What is it, baby?”

Max blinks, appalled. “I thought I was your baby?”

“I’m so sorry.” He looks so ashamed it scares her.

“For what?”

“I ate a fry out of the bag.”

“Oh fuck off.” She laughs, starting the car annoyedly.

He grabs her hand off the steering wheel and takes it into her own, pressing his lips to it. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not.”

[ryuttaeng]

heyyy ! i requested the last one too sorry but can i request a ryujin x 6th member!reader when the reader literally falls through the unstable ass floor while performing (I love these types of oneshots when reader gets hurt and ryujin is being that loving girlfriend everyone wants) btw I love your storiesssss their so good ur an amazing writer never forget that

pairing: ryujin x 6th member!reader

summary: staff admitted that performing was safe and the stage is stable. however, in the middle of your performance, you felt ground slipping from underfoot.

warnings: injuries, please do not read if sensitive/uncomfortable with such themes!

genres: hurt/comfort

a/n: SO SORRY IT CAME OUT SO SHORT?

“please make some noise!” you yelled, followed by thousands of screams. you pretended to not hear them, making them cheer louder, and only then you nod, satisfied. before the noise died down, the intro of your song started playing.

the cheerful screams came back, as yeji’s part started. the performance went smoothly, making it to the chorus, but when the choreography required you to stand in the middle, you felt scene shaking under your feet. gulping, you wanted to take a step forward, but you felt ground breaking down under you.

it took only few seconds before you felt sharp pain in your arm, hissing. ryujin was the first person to react, looking down. yeji and lia signalled to stop the music, when chaeryeong with yuna called staff.

you removed in-ear monitors, when you heard ryujin calling you. “y/n! y/n, are you okay?” she asked, loudly, to let you hear her. you shook her head, holding your arm. “no, i can’t move the shoulder… where are the doctors?” ryujin looked up, looking the backstage. “i don’t- oh, they’re here, they’re gonna get you soon!” she said, trying to calm you down, but it sounded more that she tried to calm herself down.

ryujin convinced the staff to come with you, while she hold your hand in ambulance. “does it still hurts?” she asked softly, but you only could nod your head in response.

her sad expression on her face almost made you cry, as you blinked tears away. “it’s okay ryu, i promise. but i hope i didn’t break it…” ryujin squeezed you hand, looking at you softly. “well, you better not, i will miss your annoying face during your recovery.” she teased. you only could furrow your eyebrows, not able to hit her.

“shin ryujin!” you hissed, totally forgot about your injury, trying to hit her, raising your arm. you felt sharp pain, making you hiss and lay back. “miss, please don’t move your arm.” the assistant said, and you nodded, as you felt tears forming in your eyes. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry. but i still gonna miss you during your recovery.” she said, now without teasings. “i know ryujin, i know.” you replied her softly, looking at her.