#epic cast selfies

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Epic Systems, a lethal health record monopolist

Epic Systems makes the dominant electronic health record (EHR) system in America; if you're a doctor, chances are you are required to use it, and for every hour a doctor spends with a patient, they have to spend two hours doing clinically useless bureaucratic data-entry on an Epic EHR.

How could a product so manifestly unfit for purpose be the absolute market leader? Simple: as Robert Kuttner describes in an excellent feature in The American Prospect, Epic may be a clinical disaster, but it's a profit-generating miracle:

https://prospect.org/health/2024-10-01-epic-dystopia/

At the core of Epic's value proposition is "upcoding," a form of billing fraud that is beloved of hospital administrators, including the "nonprofit" hospitals that generate vast fortunes that are somehow not characterized as profits. Here's a particularly egregious form of upcoding: back in 2020, the Poudre Valley Hospital in Ft Collins, CO locked all its doors except the ER entrance. Every patient entering the hospital, including those receiving absolutely routine care, was therefore processed as an "emergency."

In April 2020, Caitlin Wells Salerno – a pregnant biologist – drove to Poudre Valley with normal labor pains. She walked herself up to obstetrics, declining the offer of a wheelchair, stopping only to snap a cheeky selfie. Nevertheless, the hospital recorded her normal, uncomplicated birth as a Level 5 emergency – comparable to a major heart-attack – and whacked her with a $2755 bill for emergency care:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/27/crossing-a-line/#zero-fucks-given

Upcoding has its origins in the Reagan revolution, when the market-worshipping cultists he'd put in charge of health care created the "Prospective Payment System," which paid a lump sum for care. The idea was to incentivize hospitals to provide efficient care, since they could keep the difference between whatever they spent getting you better and the set PPS amount that Medicare would reimburse them. Hospitals responded by inventing upcoding: a patient with controlled, long-term coronary disease who showed up with a broken leg would get coded for the coronary condition and the cast, and the hospital would pocket both lump sums:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/13/a-punch-in-the-guts/#hayek-pilled

The reason hospital administrators love Epic, and pay gigantic sums for systemwide software licenses, is directly connected to the two hours that doctors spent filling in Epic forms for every hour they spend treating patients. Epic collects all that extra information in order to identify potential sources of plausible upcodes, which allows hospitals to bill patients, insurers, and Medicare through the nose for routine care. Epic can automatically recode "diabetes with no complications" from a Hierarchical Condition Category code 19 (worth $894.40) as "diabetes with kidney failure," code 18 and 136, which gooses the reimbursement to $1273.60.

Epic snitches on doctors to their bosses, giving them a dashboard to track doctors' compliance with upcoding suggestions. One of Kuttner's doctor sources says her supervisor contacts her with questions like, "That appointment was a 2. Don’t you think it might be a 3?"

Robert Kuttner is the perfect journalist to unravel the Epic scam. As a journalist who wrote for The New England Journal of Medicine, he's got an insider's knowledge of the health industry, and plenty of sources among health professionals. As he tells it, Epic is a cultlike, insular company that employs 12.500 people in its hometown of Verona, WI.

The EHR industry's origins start with a GW Bush-era law called the HITECH Act, which was later folded into Obama's Recovery Act in 2009. Obama provided $27b to hospitals that installed EHR systems. These systems had to more than track patient outcomes – they also provided the data for pay-for-performance incentives. EHRs were already trying to do something very complicated – track health outcomes – but now they were also meant to underpin a cockamamie "incentives" program that was supposed to provide a carrot to the health industry so it would stop killing people and ripping off Medicare. EHRs devolved into obscenely complex spaghetti systems that doctors and nurses loathed on sight.

But there was one group that loved EHRs: hospital administrators and the private companies offering Medicare Advantage plans (which also benefited from upcoding patients in order to soak Uncle Sucker):

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8649706/

The spread of EHRs neatly tracks with a spike in upcharging: "from 2014 through 2019, the number of hospital stays billed at the highest severity level increased almost 20 percent…the number of stays billed at each of the other severity levels decreased":

https://oig.hhs.gov/oei/reports/OEI-02-18-00380.pdf

The purpose of a system is what it does. Epic's industry-dominating EHR is great at price-gouging, but it sucks as a clinical tool – it takes 18 keystrokes just to enter a prescription:

https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamanetworkopen/fullarticle/2729481

Doctors need to see patients, but their bosses demand that they satisfy Epic's endless red tape. Doctors now routinely stay late after work and show up hours early, just to do paperwork. It's not enough. According to another one of Kuttner's sources, doctors routinely copy-and-paste earlier entries into the current one, a practice that generates rampant errors. Some just make up random numbers to fulfill Epic's nonsensical requirements: the same source told Kuttner that when prompted to enter a pain score for his TB patients, he just enters "zero."

Don't worry, Epic has a solution: AI. They've rolled out an "ambient listening" tool that attempts to transcribe everything the doctor and patient say during an exam and then bash it into a visit report. Not only is this prone to the customary mistakes that make AI unsuited to high-stakes, error-sensitive applications, it also represents a profound misunderstanding of the purpose of clinical notes.

The very exercise of organizing your thoughts and reflections about an event – such as a medical exam – into a coherent report makes you apply rigor and perspective to events that otherwise arrive as a series of fleeting impressions and reactions. That's why blogging is such an effective practice:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

The answer to doctors not having time to reflect and organize good notes is to give them more time – not more AI. As another doctor told Kuttner: "Ambient listening is a solution to a self-created problem of requiring too much data entry by clinicians."

EHRs are one of those especially hellish public-private partnerships. Health care doctrine from Reagan to Obama insisted that the system just needed to be exposed to market forces and incentives. EHRs are designed to allow hospitals to win as many of these incentives as possible. Epic's clinical care modules do this by bombarding doctors with low-quality diagnostic suggestions with "little to do with a patient’s actual condition and risks," leading to "alert fatigue," so doctors miss the important alerts in the storm of nonsense elbow-jostling:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5058605/

Clinicians who actually want to improve the quality of care in their facilities end up recording data manually and keying it into spreadsheets, because they can't get Epic to give them the data they need. Meanwhile, an army of high-priced consultants stand ready to give clinicians advise on getting Epic to do what they need, but can't seem to deliver.

Ironically, one of the benefits that Epic touts is its interoperability: hospitals that buy Epic systems can interconnect those with other Epic systems, and there's a large ecosystem of aftermarket add-ons that work with Epic. But Epic is a product, not a protocol, so its much-touted interop exists entirely on its terms, and at its sufferance. If Epic chooses, a doctor using its products can send files to a doctor using a rival product. But Epic can also veto that activity – and its veto extends to deciding whether a hospital can export their patient records to a competing service and get off Epic altogether.

One major selling point for Epic is its capacity to export "anonymized" data for medical research. Very large patient data-sets like Epic's are reasonably believed to contain many potential medical insights, so medical researchers are very excited at the prospect of interrogating that data.

But Epic's approach – anonymizing files containing the most sensitive information imaginable, about millions of people, and then releasing them to third parties – is a nightmare. "De-identified" data-sets are notoriously vulnerable to "re-identification" and the threat of re-identification only increases every time there's another release or breach, which can used to reveal the identities of people in anonymized records. For example, if you have a database of all the prescribing at a given hospital – a numeric identifier representing the patient, and the time and date when they saw a doctor and got a scrip. At any time in the future, a big location-data breach – say, from Uber or a transit system – can show you which people went back and forth to the hospital at the times that line up with those doctor's appointments, unmasking the person who got abortion meds, cancer meds, psychiatric meds or other sensitive prescriptions.

The fact that anonymized data can – will! – be re-identified doesn't mean we have to give up on the prospect of gleaning insight from medical records. In the UK, the eminent doctor Ben Goldacre and colleagues built an incredible effective, privacy-preserving "trusted research environment" (TRE) to operate on millions of NHS records across a decentralized system of hospitals and trusts without ever moving the data off their own servers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/08/the-fire-of-orodruin/#are-we-the-baddies

The TRE is an open source, transparent server that accepts complex research questions in the form of database queries. These queries are posted to a public server for peer-review and revision, and when they're ready, the TRE sends them to each of the databases where the records are held. Those databases transmit responses to the TRE, which then publishes them. This has been unimaginably successful: the prototype of the TRE launched during the lockdown generated sixty papers in Nature in a matter of months.

Monopolies are inefficient, and Epic's outmoded and dangerous approach to research, along with the roadblocks it puts in the way of clinical excellence, epitomizes the problems with monopoly. America's health care industry is a dumpster fire from top to bottom – from Medicare Advantage to hospital cartels – and allowing Epic to dominate the EHR market has somehow, incredibly, made that system even worse.

Naturally, Kuttner finishes out his article with some antitrust analysis, sketching out how the Sherman Act could be brought to bear on Epic. Something has to be done. Epic's software is one of the many reasons that MDs are leaving the medical profession in droves.

Epic epitomizes the long-standing class war between doctors who want to take care of their patients and hospital executives who want to make a buck off of those patients.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/02/upcoded-to-death/#thanks-obama

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Priority

Summary: MV1 + "You're my priority." 🍂🦃

Song: i'm yours by Isabel LaRosa

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The sun dipped low over the Monaco harbor, casting a golden hue over the sleek yachts and classic buildings. It was race weekend, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Fans adorned in vibrant team colors filled the streets, while the pit lanes prepared for the moment that would thrill millions around the globe.

Among the horde of dedicated supporters and high-profile personalities were three friends, caught in a whirlwind of competition and camaraderie: Max, Charles and Lando.

Today, he stood in the crowd, his eyes fixed on you—a talented influencer and recently appointed ambassador for the racing team.

With your effortless smile and magnetic personality, you effortlessly drew a gathering of admirers around you, signing autographs and taking cheerful selfies, your laughter ringing like music above the cacophony.

Charles and Lando, seated comfortably on a nearby bench, exchanged knowing glances as they watched Max, who seemed lost in a dreamy haze.

“Look at him,” Lando snickered, leaning back on his hands. “I swear he’s drooling.”

“Max, the biggest simp in Monaco,” Charles teased, suppressing a laugh. “He’s got those hearts in his eyes again.”

Max was clearly oblivious, completely entranced by your graceful presence. He didn’t just admire you; it was as though he had built a world around the very idea of you.

The way you spoke with your fans, how you listened to each story and responded with genuine interest—it captivated him.

“Should we go over and rescue him?” Lando suggested, feigning concern while he grinned. “Or do we let him bask in his hopeless dreams for a little longer?”

“He’ll be fine,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “But maybe we should give him a little push. He wouldn’t take any of this as serious if it were us in front of that crowd.”

“I can’t believe he’s got it this bad,” Lando said, his tone playful, “What spice do you think he would add to the word ‘simp’ if it was his turn to describe it? Charismatic? Earned? I can practically hear his monologue right now.”

Charles laughed, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied Max. “But seriously, look at him. It’s like watching a puppy. You know he wouldn’t even know what to say to her.”

While they teased Max, he remained entranced. Conscious of his friends’ snickering, he reluctantly stole a glance at them and noticed their laughter.

Realizing what they were up to, he straightened, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Guys! Quit it!” he called out, his voice laced with embarrassment. “I’m just watching!”

“Yeah, watching her while looking like you’re in a personal rom-com,” Lando snickered. “How about a quick flirt, huh? We can’t let those hours of sim racing go to waste, Max!”

“Or we could help you,” Charles added, the corners of his mouth curling into a teasing grin. “I could distract her while you swoop in for a heroic rescue.”

Max rolled his eyes, attempting to shake off their banter, yet a smile tugged at his lips, unable to fully resist the comedic timing of his over-the-top friends.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that? I’d rather drown than ask either one of you for ‘help’.”

“Oh please, it wouldn’t even be asking!” Lando exchanged a knowing grin with Charles. “You’d be thanking us with how epic this moment will be.”

Just as their banter continued, you finished with the last group of fans, standing tall under the sun, blissfully unaware of the trio observing you.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took out your phone, scrolling through your messages.

“Look! She’s free! Go now!” Lando exclaimed, shoving Max lightly.

“What? No! I can't!” Max stuttered, standing rigid, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Charles leaned closer, unfazed by Max’s protests. “You brought this on yourself. You can’t let the opportunity pass you by. Just be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Max echoed incredulously. “What does that even mean? Look at her! She’s amazing. I’m just… me.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Charles replied. “She doesn't want another trophy; she wants someone real. If you don’t go talk to her, you’ll never know.”

With a deep breath, Max took a step back, contemplating the ocean of thoughts that whirled within him. “What if I mess up? Or worse, what if she thinks I’m just a weird guy?”

“Mate! You're the Max Verstappen,” Lando shrugged. “I don't think she'll care.” He winked. “Now go. You could get all the cool points.”

With a silent nod and a rush of adrenaline, Max finally took a step forward. As he approached you, he tried to focus on the words swirling in his mind.

Closer and closer, he felt his heart race—this was it.

You looked up just as he reached you, and your eyes met his. His breath caught, a mix of excitement and nervousness weaving together. “Hey…,” he managed to say, suddenly feeling small in this vast world of possibility.

You smiled brightly, that same warmth radiating from you that had drawn him here. “Hi there! You’re a fan of the team, right?”

Max nodded, wrestling with the best response while standing here, finally face to face with the person he admired yet knew so little about. “Yeah, I mean, um, I—I am.” He swallowed hard. “I saw you with your fans over there, and, um, you were amazing.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “Thank you! I love connecting with them. It’s the least I can do. They make our sport so vibrant and exciting.”

“I can see that,” Max said, feeling the confidence slowly emerging. “Just like you’re making this whole weekend brighter.”

The two of you shared a laugh that alleviated the tension, and with each word, the distance between you lessened. The shimmer of stars began to paint the sky as the sun set, casting a magical glow over the race circuit, where a new chapter began to unfold.

Meanwhile, Charles and Lando watched from a distance, an approving grin plastered on their faces. “Maybe our Max isn’t such a hopeless case after all,” Lando mused, nudging Charles.

“Looks like our little simp might just prove us all wrong,” Charles replied, folding his arms in satisfaction as they witnessed the unfolding moment between you and Max, already knowing it was destined to be a story worth telling.

You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of racing. The revving engines, the smell of burnt rubber, and the exhilaration hanging in the air—every race was a whirlwind of excitement.

As a social media influencer, you had the chance to immerse yourself in this electrifying world, and attending each Grand Prix was like living in a breathtaking dream.

But it wasn't just the races that thrilled you; it was the company you kept, particularly Max.

He was a whirlwind on the track, deftly maneuvering through the chaos of his competitors. Off the track, however, he was refreshingly down-to-earth.

From the moment you met, a strong bond formed—a friendship that quickly evolved into the kind of connection that made fans and onlookers raise their eyebrows with curiosity.

Your camaraderie was vibrant and infectious, turning the drivers’ lounge into your personal arena of chaos where everyone else was a spectator.

“Hey, Max!” you exclaimed, waving as he walked through the driver’s lounge after a particularly grueling race in Miami. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N! Ready for some ‘maxplaining’?” he teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You mean me doing the yapping, Maxplaining is your job.”

“Touché,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But let’s compare notes on what went wrong today. I have a few things to say.”

You led him to a quieter corner, the hum of the lounge fading as the two of you settled into a rhythm. You were comfortable with each other, like family.

“Okay, admit it,” you began, leaning in conspiratorially. “You totally could have cut that last corner better. What were you thinking?”

Max feigned a horrified gasp. “What do you mean? I was just giving the crowds a show! It’s about the drama, Y/N!”

“Drama?” you chuckled. “More like a slow dance with the wall! Lando warned you, didn’t he?”

Max smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Lando is always going on about it. It’s like he thinks he can drive better just because he’s got a fancy new helmet.”

At that, you burst out laughing, imagining Lando prancing around, confidently boasting about helmet aerodynamics while utterly ignoring the zen of driving.

Lando had long since accepted his role in your friendship as the comedic relief, always reminding you both to loosen up amidst the pressure.

As the races sped by from more distant tracks like COTA to the legendary Brazil Grand Prix, your friendship deepened wonderfully, forming an unbreakable bond.

Instagram stories filled with laughter and spontaneous videos of Max’s antics, unfiltered and untamed, all while being followed by millions.

It wasn’t merely a friendship; it was an adventure, one you cherished.

“Oh, I’m definitely maxplaining this one for the Gram,” you declared one day, holding up your phone as Max attempted to juggle a football while simultaneously answering questions from fans.

“Y/N, focus! We need to practice our pre-race rituals, not showcase my juggling skills,” Max replied, though he couldn’t resist the allure of the camera, striking a mock-serious pose.

“Fine, focus mode activated! But I’ll always film your epic fails,” you bantered, capturing him dramatically failing to keep the football afloat.

The moments you shared were infused with invaluable lessons and effortless joy. It was on a chill evening following a hot race that things began to shift for you both.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t racing? Like, normal stuff?” you asked, settling comfortably in a lounge chair, your gaze fixed on the sunset outside the paddock.

Max paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Sometimes. It’s hard, though. Racing is everything I know—you lose track of reality. But I guess if I weren’t here...” he trailed off, his brow furrowing, “I’d probably be lost.”

“I get that,” you affirmed. “But you’re not just a racer, Max. You’re an inspiration to so many. It’s more than just speed; it’s the grit and passion the fans see.”

A shy smile crept across his face. “And you, Y/N, you’re more than just this influencer. You humanize the sport. You put a face to racing that isn’t just helmets and stats.”

Caught off guard by his sincerity, you felt a flutter in your chest. “Thanks, Max. That means a lot,” you replied, warmth spreading through you.

There was a beat of silence before he continued, “Have you ever thought about how this could go beyond racing?”

Your heart raced. “What do you mean?”

"Nothing," he muttered shyly, his ears went bright red and excused himself to finish his debriefing. . . .

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the park as Max leaned against a nearby wall, scrolling through his phone.

He had been enjoying his time with you, your banter and laughter filling the air, a comfortable rhythm you had established over the weeks.

Yet, beneath the surface of your friendship, Max felt a flicker of something deeper, a burgeoning affection he hadn’t quite dared to voice.

Suddenly, he noticed a figure approaching you—a tall, dark-haired guy who carried himself with an ease that annoyed Max for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.

As the guy drew closer, he greeted you with a wide smile, and you responded with a tension in your shoulders that sent alarm bells ringing in Max’s head.

"Hey, Y/N!" the guy said, his voice overly cheerful as if he were trying to create an upbeat atmosphere. "Long time no see! How have you been?"

“Uh, hi, Ben,” you replied, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “I’ve been… good.” You shifted your weight uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact while fiddling with the strap of your bag.

Max couldn’t hear the rest of your conversation, but he could see your discomfort rise like a tide. Ben leaned in closer, gesturing animatedly with his hands, and Max’s heart raced.

It was clear you wanted to retreat, but Ben seemed oblivious to your disinterest.

Max took a step off the wall, deciding he didn't like the way Ben was invading your personal space. He approached them, a casual yet protective demeanor in his stride.

“Hey, babe! There you are!” he had called out, forcing the brightness into his tone, hoping to drown out the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Your relief was evident as you turned to him with that light that made everything feel right.

“Oh! Maxy, hey!” you exclaimed, that simple greeting sending a jolt of happiness through him.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, a stark contrast to the cloud that overhung your expression when you were with Ben.

“Yeah, I just… um, was catching up with Ben here,” you said, the slight falter in your voice not going unnoticed by Max.

He felt a flicker of protectiveness flare up inside him, and he stepped closer, narrowing the space between you and Ben.

“Ben!” Max called, feigning cheerfulness as he directed his attention to the other guy, whose smile seemed to dim the moment he realized Max had entered the scene. “You’re still talking about high school? What a wild ride that was, right?”

Ben chuckled lightly, clearly irritated with Max's interruption but not wanting to show it. “Yeah, we were just reminiscing about old times,” he replied, shooting you a glance. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you muttered, your gaze darting away, unable to meet either of their eyes.

Max could see you were struggling, trapped in some unspoken tension, but he didn’t want to let you stay there any longer.

“Well, we’ve got our own plans,” Max interjected smoothly, a hint of challenge in his voice as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder gently.

“So, are you ready to grab that smoothie we talked about? The mango one?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like a conspirator sharing a secret, “I hear it’s worth it.”

You caught his eyes, and in that moment, your gratitude was palpable.

“Yes! I could really go for a mango smoothie right now,” you said, the tension easing from your face as you shifted your weight towards Max, your unexpected ally in this moment.

“Smoothies are great for tackling the past,” Max added with an exaggerated grin at Ben, who now looked like a puppet with its strings cut.

Max felt a thrill of satisfaction watching the other man’s expression sour, knowing you were finally free to escape this uncomfortable confrontation.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ben forced through gritted teeth, his eyes boring into Max as if trying to figure him out.

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, the practiced politeness in your tone striking a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d shown Max.

Together, you turned away from Ben, the café’s atmosphere lightening as you stepped outside into the warm sun.

Once you reached the sidewalk, your sigh of relief was almost comical. “Thank you for that, Max. I didn’t know how to get away.”

“Anytime,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual while his heart raced. “Ben can be a little… intense, can’t he?”

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright. “Intense is one way to put it. He has a way of making things complicated.”

“He’s... well, we have some history that’s not exactly fun,” you admitted, your expression somber as you waited for your smoothies.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Max asked gently, his heart thumping in his chest.

He didn’t want to push you, but he was curious and concerned at the same time.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your phone. “It was just a complicated relationship. One of those where things started out great, but eventually spiraled into something toxic. It was… hard to let go.”

Max’s expression softened. “I understand. You don’t have to share everything if you’re not comfortable, though. I just want you to know I’m here for you, always.”

You smiled, a genuine light coming back to your eyes. “I appreciate that, Max. I think after all this time, I’ve finally learned what I want in my life. You just being here means a lot.”

“That’s what friends are for, right? And I wouldn’t want anyone to make you feel uncomfortable. You deserve better than that,” Max said, handing you the smoothie.

“Thanks, Max. You really are a great friend.” As you two walked away from the stand, you stole a glance at him, your eyes shining. “You know, I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

Max smiled. He just hoped he was something more to you. . . . .

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed unexpectedly. The screen lit up, revealing an incoming call from a number you recognized as belonging to Red Bull Racing's media team.

Your heart raced; you just had been following F1 closely, and your recent friendship with Max Verstappen had garnered its fair share of attention on social media.

You answered the call, curiosity piqued.

“Hey! Is this Y/N?” a cheerful voice greeted on the other end.

“Yes, it is!” you replied, trying to sound composed. “Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Sarah from Red Bull's media team. We’ve been monitoring the amazing fan reactions to the content featuring you and Max. We’d love to capitalize on that momentum,” she explained.

"We’d like to invite you to join Max for a fun game, which we plan to share on our social media. Are you up for it?"

You couldn’t believe it. “Absolutely,”

“Great! We’ll set it up for tomorrow afternoon. You'll both be given ten questions. Some will be about F1, and others will be random. Sound good?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you hung up, excitement bubbling inside.

Who wouldn't want to play a game with one of F1's biggest stars?

The next day, you arrived at the Red Bull Racing headquarters, a breathtaking fusion of sleek modern design and rich motorsport culture.

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with genuine smiles from the team members bustling around, their energy infectious, the air thick with the anticipation that always brewed before a race.

ou could hear the chatter about tire compounds and race strategies, a symphony of excitement that made your heart race.

After a quick cup of coffee—rich and strong enough to zap you awake—you engaged in light banter with a few of the engineers, teasing them about the latest car performance.

Just as you were beginning to feel at home, Olivia, the content manager, came over and ushered me into a bright studio space designed explicitly for video content.

“Ready for some fun today?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I’m always ready for fun, especially with Max,” you replied with a grin.

As you entered the studio, you spotted Max Verstappen lounging against a table, his trademark red and blue cap perched backward on his head.

He was scrolling through his phone, but he looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up with a warm grin.

“Hey! Finally, the famous Y/N has arrived!” he exclaimed, his tone playful and welcoming.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate, Max. I’m just the guy who occasionally shows up in your videos.”

“Nah, you’re a big deal now! Everyone loves the banter we have,” he insisted, pushing himself off the table and giving you a light punch on the shoulder. “Ready to get this started?”

“Absolutely. Let’s see who knows the other better!” you replied, feeling playful and competitive.

Sarah stepped in, ready to explain the rules. “Alright, everyone! Here’s how it will work. You’ll each take turns asking questions, alternating between F1 trivia and personal ones. Let’s find out just how well you know each other!”

“Sounds good,” Max said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ladies first.”

“Alright, Max,” you said, preparing to razz him with your first question. “What’s my favorite food?”

He crossed his arms, a teasing glint in his eyes. “That’s easy—pasta! But the way you always go on about it makes it seem like you think you’re Italian.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard by his accuracy. “Damn! You’ve been paying attention,” you replied with mock disbelief. “But just wait till you get yours.”

“Bring it on!” He replied, leaning in with an eager grin.

You took a deep breath and decided to up the ante. “Okay, here’s an F1 trivia question. What year did Red Bull Racing first win the Constructors’ Championship?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “2010,” You raised an eyebrow. “Impressive!”

Then it was Max’s turn. He leaned closer, an intensity in his gaze. “What’s the last concert you went to?”

You paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “It was a Coldplay concert last year. They were amazing!”

The questions flowed naturally, and laughter filled the room as the banter turned to playful teasing. Each time he got an answer right, there was a spark—a moment of connection that seemed to linger in the air a second too long.

You caught him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his expression both challenging and curious.

“Okay, okay, I have one for you,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, as if ready to break some sacred bond. “What do I like to do on my days off?”

You squinted, trying to remember the few times the team had shared off days together. “Uh, you like spending time with your cats, and you also love to do sim racing?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Close! I do love spending time with sim racing, but I also spend too much time playing FIFA. You should’ve known that!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, your turn! What’s my guilty pleasure?”

Max smirked, a glint of mischief swirling in his gaze. “You’re definitely a sucker for reality TV. Pretty sure I’ve caught you watching Love Island USA a couple of times.”

“Guilty as charged!” you admitted, laughing along with him. “But I can defend my choices if you want—ahem, it’s simple entertainment!”

His lighthearted ribbing felt warm and right, and the camaraderie between the two of you had grown into a familiar rapport almost effortlessly.

As the Q&A continued, you both slowly drifted into laughter punctuated by thoughtful pauses where a silence spoke volumes.

You began to wonder if he felt the same magnetic pull you were experiencing. In those fleeting glances, you saw a flash of something—curiosity, longing—as if both of you were teetering on the edge of discovery.

Finally, as the game progressed toward the final question, Sarah interrupted with an excited sway. “Alright, I think we’re done for now! This video is definitely going to be a hit.”

You glanced at Max, who still wore that boyish grin—his energy infectious as he reveled in the laughter circulating around the room.

But deeper than that, you felt a weight pressing on your heart, urging you to say something more.

“Hey, Max, can I ask you something?” you called out, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” He looked at you with genuine curiosity, and for a brief moment, it felt as though you were in a bubble, shut away from everyone else.

“About our chemistry—does it mean anything to you?” The question hung in the air like a transmitted spark, and you could see his expression turn serious, the lightness shifting into something deeper.

He took a moment, weighing your words. “Ever since we started being friends, it’s been… different. Fun, but something more,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice resonating through you.

Your heart soared. Max was just as captivated by your chemistry as you were. It was as if some invisible thread had tethered you both, pulling you closer together.

With a casual flip of his cap back to forward, Max held your gaze. The laughter faded, and there you stood, surrounded by the energy of the Red Bull Racing headquarters, but your world had narrowed down to this single moment.

You felt the magnetic connection evolve into something tangible, something real that could break the barriers between colleagues and something much deeper—a thrilling journey ahead sparked by an unexpected electric tension. . . .

You glided down the hallway, adrenaline and excitement coursing through your veins. This was no ordinary night; in an unexpected twist, Max had chosen you to accompany him to an exclusive F1 gala.

You had always seen him as more than just a friend, but the tension between you had never been openly addressed—until now.

The door to the living room gave way, revealing Max perched comfortably on the sofa, his classic black tuxedo accentuating the chiselled lines of his physique. His tousled dark hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw.

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. But when he turned to face you, his expression changed from admiration to sheer shock.

“How do I look?” you asked playfully, knowing full well that the dress you wore clung to your curves in just the right way.

Lifting the last of your earrings into place, you caught his gaze, lingering far too long on your neckline.

Max’s mouth fell slightly open, and he stammered, “I-uh- You look— You look great.”

His eyes seemed glued to your chest, and you smirked at him, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, let’s keep our thoughts innocent,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He blinked rapidly, as if waking from a trance, and his cheeks tinged with a light shade of crimson. “Right. Innocent. Of course.” His voice dropped an octave, trying to regain composure.

“You look—really beautiful. I mean, not that you don’t always…”

You laughed softly, enjoying the fluster you’d caused in the usually confident driver. “Thanks, Max. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He stood up, adjusting the lapels of his tux and shooting you a half-welcoming smile. “Ready to go? I think I’m about to break a world record for the longest time spent staring without saying anything coherent.”

“Let’s get out of here before you break any more records,” you replied, grabbing your clutch and heading toward the door.

The gala was being held at a splendid venue in Monaco, the ambiance glowing with extravagance. The soft sounds of classical music floated through the air as you and Max made your way inside, adorned in gold and silver decorations.

It felt surreal, the elegance around you contrasting sharply with the adrenaline-fueled world of racing that was Max’s daily routine.

As you entered, the murmurs of guests turned into a wave of excitement. “Max! Over here!” A handful of fans spotted him, rushing forward with cameras and excited whispers.

You watched as he interacted with them effortlessly, signing autographs and posing for pictures. A wave of pride washed over you; he was not just a friend but a superstar—one of the best drivers in the world.

After several moments of mingling with his fans, he returned to your side, breathless from the attention.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, his voice now lowered to an almost intimate whisper. “It’s... a lot sometimes.”

You offered him a warm smile, knowing how taxing the spotlight could be. “It’s nice to see you outside of the track. You can actually relax for once.”

With that notion in mind, he later led you to the bar, where you both ordered drinks—Max preferring a classic whiskey while you chose a sparkling signature cocktail adorned with fresh fruit.

As you sipped your second drink, you turned to him. “So, any secret dreams for the season?”

Max leaned back against the bar, an amused smile stretching across his face. “Well, aside from winning, I might want to one-up my last season’s record. Or maybe…”

He paused dramatically, “I was hoping for a podium finish on our next outing in Italy. It’s always been a special place for me.”

“Why is that? The food, the scenery?” you queried, genuinely curious.

“It’s got the perfect blend of everything. The passion, the fans... And the tire placements at Monza are—well, they’re quite thrilling,” he explained, his enthusiasm evident.

You listened, fascinated by his love for the sport and the intricacies he shared. “I can see why you love it so much,” you replied, “It’s like an art form...”

“Exactly!” His eyes sparked with enthusiasm. “And speaking of art, I could hardly choose an artwork more stunning than you tonight.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you chuckled softly. “Smooth, Max. Just remember, I’m not a trophy to be won.”

“More like a prize, then,” he shot back, his grinning eyes glinting in the light.

After what felt like a whirl of conversations and laughter, you noticed the transition in the evening. As Max caught your gaze, he spoke softly, “Say, would you like to dance?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard. “Dance? I’m not even sure I know how to—”

“You know how to sway, don’t you?” he teased, offering his hand. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you shifted onto the dance floor, surrounded by elegantly dressed couples twirling and gliding with grace. The music faded into an intoxicating sound that seemed to pull you both closer together.

His hand found the small of your back, guiding you smoothly.

“What do you think?” he whispered in your ear as you found your rhythm. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Not bad at all,” you replied, heart racing as you shared his space. The warmth from his body enveloped you, grounding you.

Eventually, the song slowed, and as you swayed in closer, you could feel the heat radiating between you. It was a different rhythm now, one that echoed the unspoken tension of your friendship.

You felt his breath hitch as he leaned closer, inhaling softly.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice earnest.

“Yeah?” You searched his face, and the way his eyes flickered with vulnerability sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m glad I chose you to come with me tonight,” he admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not just a date; you’re... you’re everything.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I care about you. More than just a friend,” he confessed, the courage of his words electrifying.

And there it was, laid bare before you in the most romantic of settings.

“Max, I feel the same.”

His gaze held yours, vulnerability mixing with unfettered joy. The music around you faded, but the world felt suspended in time, just the two of you wrapped in honesty.

He took a breath, then leaned down, brushing his lips softly against yours, tentative at first. You melted into the kiss, feeling like the most cherished person in the room.

The night had transformed into something truly unforgettable, and you knew that this moment was the beginning of something beautiful.

You wake up to the insistent buzzing of your phone beside you on the bedside table. Light streams through the curtains, illuminating the chaos of your living room, remnants from the night before—glasses, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of champagne.

You try to ignore the phone, but the buzzing doesn’t stop, and neither does the nauseating flutter of anxiety in your stomach.

“Who is it?” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the screen. Max’s name flashes back at you, and your heart races. Memories come flooding back. The party. The laughter.

His lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made everything else in the room melt away. The kiss—a moment suspended in time, etched forever into your mind.

But then everything changed. The kiss had been captured, and going viral made it feel all too public. You had fallen for him—hard—but now the weight of that kiss felt like a betrayal.

You were terrified it would affect his career, and yet, what happened was beautiful. You cannot reconcile the two.

“God, what have I done?” You bury your face in your hands as shame washes over you. The thought of what the public would say twists like a knife in your heart.

You pick up your phone and stare at it, the guilt tightening its grip on your throat. You tell yourself you should call Max, but what would you even say?

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve ruined everything. You let it ring through to voicemail, your thumb hovering over the disconnect button.

“Hey, it’s Max Verstappen. I’m probably busy right now, but please leave a message.” His cheerful voice rings out, and you hear the tremor of hope in it.

You feel like you might cry, but you can’t give in. Not now. You drop the phone back onto the table, letting out a shaky breath.

A few hours later, you finally get out of bed and make yourself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will steady your nerves. On impulse, you switch on your laptop.

The first thing you see is a headline blaring from every angle: Max and Y/N: The Viral Kiss That Broke the Internet. Your heart sinks further. This was surreal and terrifying all at once.

“Incredible,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes. You want to escape from it all. In that moment, the coffee tastes bitter.

Later that afternoon, you’re stirring the milk when your phone lights up again. It’s Max. You feel a rush of warmth mixed with dread.

You hesitate, fingers trembling as you stare at his name. Finally, you press the button, willing yourself to answer.

“Hello?” his voice is light, almost cheerful, and you can hear how easy it is for him to smile despite the chaos surrounding both of you.

“Max,” you manage, voice shaky. “We need to talk.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Are you okay?” His concern is palpable. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath. “About last night… the kiss… the cameras… I can't help but feel like I’ve ruined your career somehow. We’re all over the media, Max! What if it affects your races? Your reputation?”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interjects, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t ruin anything. Trust me. In fact, I’m glad it happened. I wanted people to know how I feel.”

“How can you be so relaxed about this?” you manage, frustration creeping in. “You’re an F1 driver. Your image matters.”

“Yeah, but my heart matters more,” he replies, and there's an unmistakable intensity in his tone. “You matter more.”

“Max, what do you mean?” Your heart skips a beat. Those words run like electricity through you.

“You and me… last night was amazing—life-changing, actually. I’ve been wanting to be with you for a long time, and it finally happened.” He chuckles softly, the sound bringing a small smile to your lips.

“All the media chatter is just noise. I'm happy people see how I feel about you.”

“You don’t understand. They’ll twist it. They’ll make it sound like you’re just some guy who kisses his fans! This isn’t a good look!”

“Listen,” he says firmly. “If they want to spin it that way, let them. But I know the truth, and so do you. I didn’t kiss a fan; I kissed the person I care about the most. That’s you, and nothing anyone says will change that.”

You feel like you could cry. Max’s words are a balm for your frayed nerves. But still, the doubt claws at you. “What if it backfires? What if it affects your team’s performance?”

“It won’t,” he insists, voice lighter now. “I thrive on pressure. Trust me; if I can drive a Formula 1 car at 200 miles an hour, I can manage whatever they throw at me. More importantly, it’s you I want in my life. Can you at least think about that?”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable. You take a moment, letting it seep in. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you face backlash.”

“Only if you don’t call back,” he says, teasing you gently. “But seriously, let’s enjoy this. Go out with me, just once, without worrying about the cameras.”

“I don’t even know how the press will react,” you sigh.

“Then surprise them. Pick a restaurant, and I’ll be there.”

You can feel your heart racing as you mull it over, but deep down, something beautiful stirs—a possibility, a spark. You could face the chaos together.

Finally, you admit, “Okay, then. Tomorrow, let’s go to that Italian place we love. But just a warning: I’m not putting on a show for anyone.”

“Perfect. Just you, me, and pasta,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a little.

As you hang up, you stare out the window, meeting your own gaze in the reflection.

The episode before you has unsettled you, but perhaps, just perhaps, you and Max are writing the first chapter of something profound—something that even the world beyond the two of you could never fully understand.

Your heart swells with anticipation for what lies ahead. . . .

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting playful patterns on the floor as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart raced with excitement and nerves as you brushed the last strokes of mascara on your lashes.

You wanted to look your best, not just for yourself, but for Max. After the viral moment that had your names splashed across every social media feed, meeting up felt like stepping into a whirlwind you couldn’t escape, nor did you want to.

“You look amazing!” your best friend Mia said, planting herself on your bed, her phone in hand. “That dress is perfect for you!”

You twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric swirling around your legs. “Do you think he’ll even notice?” you laughed nervously, trying to inject levity into the situation.

“Are you kidding? Max will definitely notice. He’s been on cloud nine since that kiss!” Mia replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, who wouldn’t be a little distracted by the thought of a girl like you?”

Just then, the sound of your phone buzzing stole your attention. You rushed over, your heart leaping when you saw Max’s name.

“Hey!” you said, trying to contain your excitement.

“Hey!” he replied, his voice warm and a little nervous. “I’m outside. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a second!” you hurried to grab your jacket and purse, glancing at Mia over your shoulder. She gave you a thumbs-up and a grin before you dashed down the stairs and out the door.

Max stood leaning against his car, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted navy shirt and jeans that accentuated his athletic figure. His hair was slightly tousled, the sun catching the glint in his blue eyes as he turned to you.

“Wow,” he said, his smile widening. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks! You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, trying to act cool while your cheeks heated up.

“Ready for our big adventure?” he asked, opening the car door for you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a laugh, settling into the passenger seat.

Max drove in a comfortable silence for a while, the radio playing softly in the background as you occasionally glanced at one another, the tension palpable yet exciting. Eventually, you broke the silence.

“So, about that kiss…” you began, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

Max chuckled, a little shyly, “You mean the one that broke the internet?”

“Yeah, that one! Do you think… I mean, how do you feel about it?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

He glanced at you, his expression serious yet playful. “Honestly? I’m still pinching myself. I didn’t expect to get carried away like that, but when I saw you, it was like everything else faded away.”

“Same here,” you admitted, your gaze locked onto his profile, trying to decipher his thoughts. “But now the whole world knows, and that’s a little overwhelming.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I wasn’t ready for the headlines either. But I kind of love that we’re doing this together, even if people are watching.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with the attention?” you asked, concern flickering across your features. “I mean, we didn’t even talk about what this means.”

Max reached over and placed his hand on yours, sending a warm jolt through your arm. “I’m okay with it because it’s you. I like you, and I want to see where this can go, with all the chaos around us.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “So, how about we forget about the cameras and just enjoy our time together?”

Nodding eagerly, you felt a surge of relief wash over you. “I’d like that.”

You spent the afternoon at a quaint café downtown, the hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee setting a cozy atmosphere. You shared stories over pastries, laughter ringing between you both as you learned more about one another.

“Okay, your turn,” you said after Max revealed his embarrassing childhood nickname. “What’s your biggest fear?”

Max took a moment to think, a slight furrow spreading across his brow. “Honestly? Losing the people I care about. Being a driver means that you travel a lot which means you lose friends quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a rush of empathy.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “It taught me to value the people in my life even more. I guess that’s why I feel so lucky to have met you.”

Your heart fluttered as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Also, I’m terrified of clowns.”

You burst into laughter, the tension from earlier melting away. “Oh come on! You can’t be serious.”

“I am! They’re just so unpredictable,” he insisted, his expression mock-stern. “One minute they’re juggling, and the next, they’re doing who knows what.”

You continued to share stories and tease each other, the world beyond the restaurant fading away. It wasn’t until you stepped out into the warm evening that you realized just how much you enjoyed his company.

“Wanna take a walk?” Max suggested, his hand naturally finding yours.

“I’d love to,” you replied, intertwining your fingers with his while you strolled through the twinkling lights of the downtown streets.

As you walked, the conversation flowed easily, your laughter mingling with the warm evening breeze. With every passing moment, the nervousness that had initially gripped you dissipated, replaced by a growing affection.

Then, as you rounded a quieter corner near the park, Max paused, turning to face me. The city lights danced in his eyes, and the warmth between you two was undeniable.

“Can I—” he hesitated, his gaze searching yours, “Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering wildly. “Definitely.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, igniting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. This kiss was different, deeper, and more meaningful than the last—an unspoken promise of what was to come.

You pulled away, and you laughed breathlessly, trying to catch your breath.

“You know, if this goes viral too, at least it’ll be a better story,” Max teased, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Let them talk!” you giggled, feeling a wave of confidence wash over you. “As long as it’s with you, I’m in.”

“Good,” he replied, his expression sincere. “Because I think we’re just getting started.”

With that, hand in hand, you continued your stroll, the world around you two fading into a beautiful blur as you embraced the adventure that lay ahead—together.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the paddock. You and Max walked hand in hand, the sensation both electrifying and soothing.

The world had made a spectacle of your private moment, and now, as you stepped into the paddock, everyone watched, their eyes glimmering with curiosity and amusement.

“Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop,” you said, your voice a soft murmur as you caught his gaze.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something deeper—an unspoken promise that made your heart race.

Max chuckled, a warm laugh that seemed to drown out the chatter of the surrounding crowd. “Look at you, though. How can I not? You’re stunning today,” he said, his fingers gently squeezing yours.

He was always so effortless, a confidence that could light up a room, and now he was casting that glow on you.

You blushed slightly, trying to suppress a smile. “You know that’s not fair. You always know what to say to make me squirm,” you replied playfully, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“I’m just being honest,” he replied, turning serious for a moment. “You have to know how lucky I feel. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone.

The sincerity in his words made you feel exposed, yet cherished.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at the compliment. “Lucky, huh? You’re the one racing in the fastest cars in the world. I’m just here, taking selfies and trying not to trip over all the cables.”

He squeezed your hand, a reassuring gesture that made you feel as if the two of you were in your own little world, separate from the high-octane chaos surrounding you. “Nah, the real race is in my heart. And you’ve won it.”

“Smooth talker,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully, though your heart fluttered at his words. “Just wait until you end up on the podium again; you’ll be too busy celebrating to remember little ol’ me.”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction. “You know I’d dedicate every race to you if I could. Last time on the podium—remember? I pointed to you. That was for you.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, your smile wide. “You were practically glowing. It was such an amazing moment.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier,” Max said, a serious tone creeping into his voice. “Every time I look at you, I get reminded of what really matters.”

“Okay, now you’re going to make me cry,” you joked, but there was a hint of sincerity in your tone. “Don’t ruin my makeup, please!”

Max laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “I promise, I won’t deliberately make you cry. But you are basically my good luck charm. You have to come to every race now.”

“Deal. But I get to pick the after-party spots,” you replied, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who said I was going to take you to an after-party? I might want to just take you home and cook you dinner.”

“Cook? You?” You laughed. “I thought you’d just rely on takeout after the races.”

“I can surprise you,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, there’s something nice about a home-cooked meal. Wouldn’t you want to try my pasta? I’ve perfected it over the years.”

“Fine, but it better not be like the time you tried to make pancakes and turned them into a science experiment,” you shot back, remembering the sticky disaster that had resulted in laughter and flour-coated walls.

“Hey! That was one time. I’m much better now,” he insisted, pretending to be offended. But the twinkle in his eyes told you he was just teasing.

As you walked past the team garages, you noticed the crew setting up for the next race, and the adrenaline of the environment pulsed through you. “Max, look at all of this hustle and bustle. Doesn’t it make your heart race?”

He nodded, his expression serious now as he gazed at the busy scene. “Definitely. It’s the thrill of competition—everyone’s working hard for one goal. But to me, nothing compares to this moment with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

“I try my best,” he admitted, a playful grin returning. “But honestly, you inspire me to push harder, to be better. I want to win races, not just for myself, but for you.”

“Max, that’s so sweet. Just promise me you won’t risk it all out there. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

His expression softened, and he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “I promise. I’ll always be careful. You and I have a lifetime of moments to create together, and I won’t let anything take that away.”

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as you simply enjoyed each other’s company. The world around you became a blur, and it felt as if time stood still.

“Alright, what’s next on our agenda?” Max asked, breaking the spell of the moment.

You glanced around thoughtfully. “How about we grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

“Perfect! I know this great place just down the road. And after that, I’ll show you my secret hiding spot in the paddock where I keep my trophies,” he said, winking at you.

“Trophies and secrets? You really do know how to woo a girl,” you replied, playfully nudging him as you both started walking toward the exit.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve,” he said confidently, pulling you closer as you stepped into the evening light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever adventures were ahead. "You are my priority after all,"

[gleesonarchive]

An epic elevator selfie featuring some of the cast and crew of 'Star Wars: The Last Jedi' 📸 (02.12.2017)

[u6is]

f2f

You couldn't let go of Victor enough. That was why you'd done this, why you'd let Jeremy fuck you in his car outside the very place where Victor was likely still celebrating.

"i fuck him cause i miss you"

—jeremy sochan x reader: smut

The stadium lights had barely dimmed, and the roar of the crowd was still reverberating in your ears as you reluctantly made your way to the post-game party.

The Spurs had just scored a victory so epic that it felt like the city itself had won. Every face was painted with a grin, every voice raised in jovial chatter. Normally, you would have been thrilled to be part of this electric atmosphere, but tonight was different. Tonight, the very reason for your hesitation would be the center of attention: Victor Wembanyama.

Back when Victor was still climbing the ranks of basketball stardom, you shared a fiery romance that ended in a messy breakup. Years had passed, and you had moved on, but the thought of facing him in such a public setting sent a shiver down your spine.

You had been invited by a mutual friend. Despite the awkwardness, you agreed to go because ever since you were a kid, you had been supporting this beautiful team.

The Spurs were more than just a bunch of players to you; they were a symbol of unity, resilience, and hope. You had grown up watching their games, cheering them on through the highs and lows, and this victory was something you couldn't miss out on.

As you pushed through the throngs of people, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, like a looming shadow cast by his towering frame and the glitz of his celebrity status.

Everything was going nicer than you could have imagined. The music was just the right volume, the drinks were cold, and the conversations were easy. You couldn't help but let your guard down and truly enjoy the party. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Victor casting a few glances in your direction. At first, you dismissed it as coincidence, but as the night went on, the frequency of his glances grew, and you began to feel a flutter in your stomach.

You tried to keep your eyes on your own group of friends, but every now and then, your gaze would drift to where Victor stood, his eyes always seeming to lock onto yours for a brief moment before quickly looking away. The tension was palpable, but no one else seemed to notice the silent dance you two were engaged in across the crowded room. His teammates were busy celebrating, leaving him to his own devices, which mostly consisted of nursing a drink and watching the party unfold around him.

As night progressed, the crowd grew wilder. Celebrities who were die-hard Spurs fans had started to arrive, adding an extra layer of glamour and chaos to the mix. You spotted a few Hollywood A-listers mingling with the players, their laughter echoing off the walls.

Players you had only ever seen in their jerseys were scattered around the venue in casual attire, Stephon face flushed with excitement and alcohol. Devin were taking selfies, and sipping on his drink, David eyes gleaming with the same energy that had propelled them to victory on the court. The air was thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and the sweet aroma of victory.

Then, amidst the chaos, Jeremy Sochan, Victor's closest teammate, approached your circle. His infectious smile was a beacon in the sea of faces, and before you knew it, he was slapping high-fives and exchanging laughs with your friends. You had met Jeremy a few times before, and he had always been friendly, but tonight, he was especially buoyant. His eyes sparkled with the joy of the win and the thrill of the night.

As the party buzzed around you, laughter and music filling the space, Jeremy leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper just above the noise.

"Hey, it’s been a while… and you’re still just as pretty as ever."

You felt your heart skip.

A reaction you weren’t sure was for him or for the weight his words carried. Jeremy had always been charming, always had that easy confidence, but tonight, with the heat of his gaze on you, something felt different.

Maybe it was the drinks lowering your guard, or maybe it was the way Victor stood just a few feet away, his presence lingering like a ghost.

You shouldn’t be thinking about him.

You shouldn’t be comparing the warmth of Jeremy’s attention to the way Victor used to look at you.

But as Jeremy’s gaze lingered, warm and inviting, and Victor just within reach yet miles away, you let yourself enjoy it.

Just for a moment.

As the party wound down, the music grew softer, the lights dimmer. Jeremy had his arm around you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving the comfort of familiarity.

And somehow, before you even realized it, you were leaving with Jeremy, his hand wrapped around yours, steady and sure. Maybe it was the drinks that led you here...or maybe it was something else entirely.

The whiskey had a way of smoothing the edges of reality, making the world a softer, more forgiving place. Or maybe it was the desire to escape the ghostly shadow of Victor that had been haunting you all night.

As you stepped into the cool night air, the reality of the situation began to set in. You were leaving with someone else, someone who wasn't Victor, and that realization hit you like a cold shower. But Jeremy's hand was warm, his grip firm and reassuring, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill as he opened the door to his sleek sports car and helped you inside.

Once the door was shut, you didn't waste a second. You leaned in, and Jeremy met you halfway, his lips pressing against yours with a hunger that surprised you. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, and you found yourself moaning, the sound muffled by his insistent kisses. It had been so long since you'd felt this kind of heat, this kind of passion, and it was intoxicating. You didn't bother to hide your desire as you tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, the fabric of his shirt bunching under your fingers.

Jeremy's touch was gentle yet firm, exploring your body as if it were a map he had studied for years but never quite dared to touch. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the thrill of the moment, but you didn't care. You had been starved for this kind of connection, and you were going to revel in it.

The kiss grew hotter, his hands roaming down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. The leather seats of the car creaked under your weight, and you felt a rush of heat between your legs as you straddled him. Your skirt rode up, and you didn't bother to adjust it, the thrill of exposure adding to the intensity of the moment. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles shift beneath his shirt, a reminder of the athlete's body beneath.

Jeremy's hands moved up your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your panties. You gasped, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He broke the kiss to look at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Is this what you want?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, breathless, and the words tumbled from your mouth,

"Yes, Jeremy, I want this."

The fire in his eyes grew brighter, and he didn't waste any more time. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you back down to him as he claimed your mouth once more. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. You felt his hands slide under your shirt, his rough palms gliding over your bare skin, sending goosebumps down your spine.

Your breath hitched as he unhooked your bra with surprising deftness, freeing your breasts. He took one in his hand, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. You whimpered into his mouth, your body arching towards him. He took the hint and pulled your shirt off, tossing it aside without a care in the world. His mouth trailed down your neck, leaving a hot path of kisses and nibbles that made you shiver with excitement.

His other hand slipped between your legs, the pressure of his fingers on your clit making you squirm with need. You were soaking wet, and he didn't even bother to hide his groan of satisfaction as he felt how ready you were. He slid a finger inside you, and you moaned, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. His movements grew more urgent, his finger curling inside you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back in your head. You could feel an orgasm building, the pressure coiling in your stomach, tightening your muscles around him.

The world outside the car faded away, and all that existed was the two of you, your bodies entwined, the sound of your muffled moans and the occasional cheer from a passing fan.

You didn't care.

All you cared about was the way Jeremy's hand felt, the way his tongue tasted, the way his breath hitched when you ground down on his fingers.

You could feel his erection straining against the fabric of his pants, and the thought of having him inside you made you wetter. You reached down, fumbling with his zipper, and he groaned as you freed him. Your hand wrapped around his thick length, stroking him with the same urgency he had used on you. He was hot and velvety in your grip, and you couldn't wait to feel him fill you up.

With a growl, Jeremy lifted you off his lap and repositioned you in the passenger seat, pushing your legs apart. He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your neck, his tongue tracing the line of your collarbone. You could feel his cock pressing against your thigh, and you knew he was just as eager as you were. His hand found your panties once more, sliding them down your legs, exposing you to the cool night air. You didn't care about the risk, about who might see, all that mattered was the heat building between your legs, the desperate need to have him inside you.

His fingers found your slick folds again, and he began to rub your clit in slow, torturous circles, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the desire in his gaze, the way it burned with an intensity that was almost frightening. His thumb slid over the sensitive bud, and you bit your lip to keep from screaming. You could feel the orgasm building, your hips rising to meet his touch, your entire body begging for release.

And then, with a swift movement, he was inside you. You gasped as he filled you, stretching you in the most delicious way. The car rocked slightly with the force of his thrusts, and you had to grip the seat to keep from falling off. It was fast, it was raw, it was everything you hadn't known you needed. His hands were everywhere, holding you down, caressing your breasts, gripping your hips, urging you to meet him, to take all of him.

Your moans grew louder, matching the rhythm of his movements. You couldn't believe this was happening, that you were here with Jeremy Sochan and he was fucking you like you were the only woman in the world. The thought made you wetter, made you want to come even harder. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on with every gasp and whine that escaped your lips.

But as the pleasure grew...

You realized that you were only doing this because you missed Victor, because his absence was a constant ache in your chest that you had been trying to fill with anything else. Jeremy was just a stand-in, a way to distract yourself from the pain of watching the man you loved celebrate with everyone else. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to block out the sight of Victor's face, but his image was burned into the back of your eyelids, a stark reminder of what you were doing.

With every stroke of Jeremy's cock, your mind raced back to Victor, the way he used to fill you so completely, the way his eyes would darken with passion as he took you.

Your cunt tightened around Jeremy's shaft, as if it was trying to hold on to the ghost of Victor. The pleasure was intense, a mix of the physical and the emotional, a bittersweet symphony playing out in the most intimate part of your body.

"Jeremy..."

And for a split second, you imagined it was Victor's face above you, his eyes filled with the same hunger that Jeremy's were. It was wrong, you knew it, but the feeling was undeniable, a betrayal and a release all rolled into one.

Jeremy's hands were rough on your skin, leaving trails of fire wherever he touched. He kissed you hard, his teeth scraping against your lower lip as he picked up the pace. You could feel his muscles strain, the power behind each thrust. His breathing grew ragged, and you knew he was close.

You reached down, your hand joining his, and together, you worked your clit, the friction making the pleasure almost unbearable.

"Fuck…" he groaned, eyes dark with hunger as he watched his cock disappear into you, over and over, slick and stretched around him. The filthy sight of it, the way you gripped him so perfectly, had his head spinning.

"Look at you," he rasped, voice thick with desire. "Letting me ruin you like this."

My friend's ex, wrapped around my cock, taking every inch. The thought alone sent a wicked thrill down his spine, and he thrust deeper, harder, chasing the heat that neither of you should've been craving but neither of you could stop.

With a gasp, you felt yourself start to come apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You tightened around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you screamed his name. The car windows fogged up, your moans intertwining with the distant cheers of the crowd still echoing from the party inside.

Jeremy's eyes never left yours as he watched you come, his own release building. His hips snapped upward, and he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you up with his seed. The intensity of it made your toes curl, and you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

As the aftermath settled, Jeremy pulled out and leaned back in his seat, panting. He looked at you with a mix of satisfaction and confusion, as if he hadn't expected the raw emotion that had just played out between you. You quickly adjusted your clothes, avoiding his gaze as you did so.

You couldn't let go of Victor enough. That was why you'd done this, why you'd let Jeremy fuck you in his car outside the very place where Victor was likely still celebrating. You missed Victor's touch, his smell, and the way his voice made you feel alive. And here you were, with his best friend, seeking comfort in his arms because you were too much of a coward to face the truth of what you'd lost.

The taste of Jeremy's kiss lingered on your lips, but it was Victor's name you whispered against his skin as you came down from your high.

You didn't love Jeremy, and you knew he didn't love you.

This was just two people caught in the crossfire of their own pain, trying to find solace in the wrong place.

this fic is heavily inspired by SZA's song F2F. lol, don’t hate me <3

i want to create a part 2 ^^ this time from both victor's and the reader's points of view heheh

[karazor--el]

#Repost @BitsieTulloch Officially over halfway through our final season of #SupermanAndLois. Some selfies from this season so far. Trying to enjoy every last moment with our amazing crew and cast. Thank you to our writers for writing such an amazing, heartbreaking, epic final season.

💞

[cecilbaldwin-fan]

Did I tell you about the time @symphonysanders and I went to the #sandiegozoo? #tourlife

From Cecil’s Instagram.

[teruthecreator]

berdly’s phone consists of the following:

-shitty, overpriced phone charm he bought at his first convention that always falls off

-redbubble phone case of a poorly-cropped, blurry image of the Super Smashing Fighters cast

-a few of those visual novel app games that have anime men text you in the middle of the night

-clash of clans 

-cookie run kingdom 

-flappy bird (”of course i have flappy bird, kris! you can’t download it from the app store anymore! why would i throw away such a priceless relice!?”) 

-a photo album of fanart he screenshotted from deviantart, with the occasional mirror selfie of him in his “gaming attire” (read: graphic t-shirts, gaming headphones his parents bought him for christmas, a single black fedora he’s yet to retire, etc.) 

-his contacts, which consist of: noelle, his mother, his father, and kris (but their name is MORTAL ENEMY with poop emojis surrounding it) 

-his music (which is all illegally downloaded--his single crime) that is mostly video game osts, the entire legacy of Epic Rap Battles of History, a few ray william johnson songs, lemon demon’s entire discography, and some songs from flight of the conchords

-and, finally, his notes app--filled to the brim with all the fanfiction he can’t post to the internet because his mom blocked the family computer from fanfiction.net wattpad and ao3, and he’s too scared of making the family go over their data plan if he posts it from his phone

[jessamine-rose]

♡ Let’s Make a Mug Together ♡

The wholesome, romantic activity of making a mug together…..but with the whole cast bc what is Obey Me! if not chaos and everyone fighting over Mc?? Fufufu~ I’m not very confident in writing for Obey Me! but I wanted to flesh out this idea I’ve had for our beloved demon brothers and side characters!! I hope I gave them justice  ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Spoiler warnings:: Main Story lore up to Season 3 in Belphegor, Simeon, Luke, and Solomon’s parts

♡ Lucifer’s mug is simple but elegant. He goes for a classic, practical shape painted in shades of black and grey, with either deep blue or brilliant red accents for a pop of color. If you compliment his mug, he will respond with his classic smirk and a hand over his chest. “It’s just a mug. It doesn’t have to be overly complex or garish.” *eyes his brothers*

♡ Unfortunately, the calming nature of the pottery workshop is disrupted by his brothers’ constant arguments. Which results in Lucifer threatening to reshape them like clay before a clay war or a paint fight breaks out. Whenever that happens, Satan and Belphie will sneakily attempt to hex his mug  ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ

♡ Right off the bat, Mammon proclaims that his mug will clearly be the best!! The first time he touches the pottery wheel is…...an epic fail, as quoted by Levi. Once his mug has the right shape, Mammon will go for a striking design in black, yellow, and gold. The entire process would have taken less time if he hadn’t been competing with his brothers -.-

♡ He will insist on sitting beside you at the painting table. Halfway, you will glance at his mug and see…….isn’t that detail similar to your own design?? “Oi, what are ya lookin’ at?? Huh?? I-It’s not like the Great Mammon wants our mugs to match or anythin’!! And don’t you dare let my brothers try to match with you, got it??” (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

♡ Even in a pottery workshop, Leviathan’s otaku speech is activated. “Waaaaaa this reminds me of that anime Let’s Make a Cauldron Too about pottery from the human world!! The protagonists were a mix of professionals and novices but they were all able to make such great designs!! Aaahh and one of them was good at making fun, moe sculptures--I wonder if I can copy her technique?? The--” “We get it, Levi!!”

♡ Don’t underestimate Levi’s art skills!! He makes good work of the assorted paints and brushes to illustrate a flattering likeness of Ruri-chan and Azuki-tan!! Later on, he shyly offers you a drink from his mug…….and would you look at that?? He sculpted some mini goldfish inside so it looks like an army of Henry’s is swimming in your tea!!  (╯✧▽✧)╯彡✿

♡ Satan chooses cat designs!! His mug very much resembles a cat, with two sculpted cat-ear triangles on the rim and a tail for the handle. Or even better, what about a bunch of mini cats climbing the rim, handle, and surface of his mug??!! Satan will paint them with a variety of patterns and faces. It is a catty design which he adores and which won’t be compared to any of Lucifer’s ideas--

♡ He may offer to paint a small addition to your mug. Just a minor detail which no one will notice…...after your mug is glazed and washed, he insists on making dark coffee to maintain the surprise. When you finish your drink, you will find a secret message cleverly painted on the bottom interior of your mug. "I hope your day is full of joy. ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ"

♡ Asmodeus’s mug needs to be gorgeous and creative to complement his beauty!! He incorporates some of his nail art techniques to paint a glamorous, one-of-a-kind mug worthy of his lips. As a finishing touch, he presses his lips against the glazed mug to leave behind a pink kiss mark. Would you like one, too~ “We don’t want any of your gross kisses, Asmo!!” “Aww, are you sure?? <3”

♡ He uses his mug for Devilgram selfies!! Soon enough, his account will be filled with pictures of aesthetic drinks within the fabulous mug…...but the focus will always be on Asmodeus as he holds the mug with a bright smile, of course!! Doesn’t he make the prettiest beverage model?? („─‿─„) ♡

♡ Beelzebub’s mug is amazingly oversized. It might as well be mistaken for a bowl or a pitcher, considering how gigantic it is. “Beel, how many drinks are you trying to fit in there??!!” “It’s big enough so I can fit all of the vegetables and rice when we have curry.” “Are you saying that curry is a drink??!!”

♡ On top of that, Beel’s art skills are simply horrific. After much thinking with Belphie, he paints on his mug a simple sunrise gradient of solid warm colors.....Then he decides to draw a wholesome picture of his family (Mc included) holding hands around the bottom of the mug. The final product ends up insulting his brothers and giving them nightmares for days  _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

♡ Fully aware of his terrible (but better than Beel’s) drawing skills, Belphegor comes up with the idea for him and Beelzebub to use solid colors. He paints his mug a muted dark blue to resemble the night sky, with white dots for his favorite stars and constellations from the human world!! Their mugs match, too  =w=

♡ After chatting with you and Beel, he decides to make a simple addition to his mug!! A green mountain with a little pink puffball on top. The cloud-like shape has a yellow circle for a face and little horns--is that sheep Mc?? Looking up at Beel and Belphie’s twin stars?? How adorable!! “It’s you, me, and Beel. Let’s look at the stars again later.”

♡ Diavolo is like a child exploring the limitless world of creativity. He molds a mug which is decidedly…….unique. Asymmetrical. More fit to be a museum art piece than a piece of everyday drinkware. He also has fun during the painting process--his design could either be a colorful abstract work or a collage of his favorite Devildom landscapes and places!!  o(^▽^)o

♡ For the latter design, he will happily recount his memories from those special places as he paints. “Lucifer, here is the private beach we rented out 6000 years ago!! Barbatos, do you remember the Snapdragon Skull meadow where we hosted my childhood tea parties?? Mc, if you don’t mind, I would like to revisit these places with you next time.”

♡ Barbatos decides to mold a cup meant for tea. His set of teacups--plus an expertly molded teapot--are painted with sophisticated designs impressive enough to star in Diavolo’s next royal tea party!! From Japanese cups to European china with matching saucers, he is very interested in the different types of teaware!!

♡ He watches Diavolo’s mug creation and protects their cups from the demon brothers’ shenanigans. If you need help with your mug, he will politely smile and guide you through the process. Barbatos will stand over you, his hands lightly holding your wrists as you shape clay and paint designs. “Diavolo-bocchama, such childlike creativity ( ◠‿◠ ) Moving on, Mc, this is how you paint a traditional teacup.”

♡ Simeon’s mug gives off a homey, sophisticated vibe. He helps Luke during the clay-shaping process and comes up with a mug which feels comforting to hold. He paints a dazzling image of the Celestial Realm on the surface along with some original quotes in pretty, cursive lettering. At one point, Mammon almost tries to sell it on Akuzon as a personal item created by Christopher Peugeot.....

♡ His mug is always filled with coffee for recipe experiments or writer’s fuel. Oftentimes, you will visit Purgatory Hall to find Simeon expertly pouring steamed milk into his mug to finish off the newest menu item on The Angel’s Halo. “Mc, you came just in time. Would you like to try our Special Blend Coffee with Cloudy Sheep Latte Art?? Ꮚ • ⌄ •Ꮚ ”

♡ Luke is intent on making a perfect mug to pair with his sweets!! With Simeon’s encouragement, he happily sculpts a classic mug with everyone. Originally, he thought of painting assorted desserts on his mug…….then he considered the consequences of Beel’s reaction. To which he switched to a design of Celestial Realm imagery and the human world constellations he had learned from Michael!!

♡ At one point, someone *cough* Mammon *cough*  points out how cute and little Luke’s mug looks in comparison to everyone else’s creations. “Aww, isn’t this mug just like the Chihuahua??” “Ehh?? That wasn’t my intention!! It’s just that all of you consume bigger portions than me!! ໒  •̀ ﻌ •́ ७ ”

♡ Solomon’s mug looks exactly like what you’d expect from a sorcerer. Being familiar with various historical models of pottery and symbolic magical tools, it isn’t a surprise for him to come up with a special mug which may have mystical properties and functions. (It reheats his drinks.) Combining his skills in art and sorcery, Solomon effortlessly creates a vintage mug decorated with magical runes and embellishments  (∩^o^)⊃━☆゜.*  

♡ The finished mug is a gorgeous piece of pottery…...until Solomon uses it for his beverage concoctions. Suddenly, in everyone’s eyes, the work of art has become a sinisterly deceptive vessel for logic-defying poison. “Do you want a sip, Mc?? You won’t believe how good black coffee tastes with bloodberry sauce and devil’s chili peppers.”

♡

To my darling Belphewhore friend who proofread and contributed to this work:: No, you did not see me simping for S*lomon. Thank you very much for your assistance <3

Tagging:: @sunny-xty @panicattheattic @luminari-mc @kitsune-oji​ @souielle​ @moemoemammon​​ @dorkus-mcdingus​

[karihighman]

The way I desperately need their characters to be besties because they’re already supportive cast mates IRL 😊🫶 ps: a Lisseth & Melissa selfie would be epic just saying! So excited for what’s in store for Celina & crossing my fingers for a Lucy interaction or even a Chenford scene

[tophthedaydreamer]

the future! part 3

after being formally adopted by gyro (he still visits the drakes), boyd studies to become a scientist. he establishes a tech company that gets super successful! he becomes a billionaire genius a la tony stark, but remains his kind, down-to-earth self. still epic friends with huey and often provides him with tech that helps him gather artifacts and treasure.

violet becomes a scholar of all things magical and paranormal. a master at casting spells and solving magical puzzles, as well as identifying mystical beasts. has met mothman (they took a selfie together). i imagine she gets married to huey, and the two become a cool nerdy couple. 

gosalyn becomes the next guardian of st. canard, taking on the name quiverwing quack! super punk n cool, she’s got a sick hockey team on the side. she has uncle jesse vibes. 

[itsclydebitches]

That post on the cast's lack of curiosity and imagination hit the nail on so many issues I've had with this show lately. If I had to guess why this is the case, it's either because so much stuff has been crammed into the show that they decided thinking things over can be cut or they learned the wrong lesson from V5 and think that they shouldn't have the cast slow down and discuss what they've learned or are unsure about.

Personally, I think it's both those things with a third issue of the show not knowing where it's going. Hence, why we get so many ideas that are shoddily executed, dropped completely, randomly return, seem to go in circles before disappearing, etc. There are a hundred ideas piled on top of one another, with no real focus on any of them, so yeah, no wonder we haven't seen space made for those questions. I know the more optimistic side of the fandom pushes this idea of the mater plan. Most of the writers worked with Monty, they have his notes, just look at all the comments about how they're writing two volumes at once. Personally, I'm of the opinion that if this story was truly well-plotted, we would be seeing more of that creative work in regards to the group's thinking. If the writer knows basic facts like how Salem will be defeated, how the heroes hit on that solution, and the like, then you're able to incorporate not only their journey towards that ending, but all the pitfalls that come along with it. Questions like whether Ironwood's downfall was truly planned from the beginning is a more subjective (a fairly emotionally driven) conversation, but scenes like Nora's comment on the way to the party, introducing the Staff's abilities a few minutes before they're used, accomplishing nothing with Penny before killing her off, diving into a random void that was never a part of the story's expected structure... none of this feels like the writers have a good handle on where they're doing. And if you don't know where you're going — at least a basic idea — it's a lot harder to let your characters discover how to solve their problems. The authors may not know how to solve those problems yet. RWBY's magic system has always had wishy-washy rules and Salem's own motivations were only announced this volume, eight years in. That's not good groundwork for creative thinking on the part of the characters.

Then yeah, we've got the added issue of how much thinking the cast can engage in. I absolutely understand the criticism leveled at Volume 5, especially given how lack-luster the action was once we got it. However, I don't think we can ignore the show RWBY has become. By introducing more cerebral themes — who's keeping what secrets? How much of this war is fought with information? How do we judge our enemies in this supposedly gray world? — RWBY has axed the simplistic, "Hehe bad guys get punched in the face!" focus we had at the start. It's no longer nameless White Fang goons who get blown up in an epic train tunnel battle, it's drawn out conversations over torture wherein a kid tries to turn one of the bad guys by... appealing to basic, "You don't want to die too" logic, I guess. The point is, when you change the show in that manner you also necessitate that the characters talk about things. Work through them. Tease out lies from the truth, allies from foes, the strategy that will ensure victory when epic punches are no longer enough. Fans aren't wrong to be frustrated at their action characters just sitting around, but there's also a reason why many of us are simultaneously frustrated by things like Emerald's forgiveness, Ozpin's apology, or Weiss' interactions with her family: all of them lack important conversations to prove that growth, resolution, or characterization to the audience. Frankly, as much as I do understand that, "I want to see them fighting, not talking all the time!" perspective, I think it's the least of RWBY's problems post-Volume 8. Simply because so many of our characters didn't fight and didn't talk about anything important. Fans bring up drinking tea in the mansion again and again because it is, thus far, the most extreme example of RWBY failing to have their characters forward the story. Fans are frustrated because half of our main team didn't do anything, and that includes undergoing no real emotional growth, discussing no strategies, coming to no decisions — anything that might come of a well-written conversation. Personally, I don't actually think most fans dislike conversation in the show as much as they might think. It's just that RWBY (as is so often the case) hasn't executed it well. But not only do these talks usually provide fan-favorite moments (how many Blake/Yang shippers focus on their selfies, or Yang's dance moves, the stuff that happens in their downtime?), but it can be downright exciting to see these characters hit on solutions that will then impact later fights. We want to see them succeed, both on and off the battlefield. Yet Volume 8 failed spectacularly in that regard, giving us a Ruby who did nothing, randomly realized she could use the Staff (no real catalyst there), and then basically implemented Ironwood's plan only worse. If RWBY can't even manage to keep its title character significant, I'm not at all surprised we don't have more nuance like, say, creatively testing Salem's immortality, or questioning the information they've been told, or even just having conversations during the midst of battle so you can take out two story birds with one stone. RWBY has too much going on, making it near impossible to discuss what's important, and even if we knew, yeah, there's this fear that it will be too boring... despite us getting stuff like the mansion scenes anyway.

[ellelans]

You made a tag comment about how Buddie wasn't planned from the beginning. And therefore what we got in Season 2 wasn't (at the time) the groundwork for a love story. I agree completely! Much of it I can see as either a bit of fun (the Christmas elf, the instagram girl) or that kind of hyper-masc heterosexuality that loops around itself and becomes gay (Buck's whole...thing with Eddie in the beginning, the focus on Eddie's body/hotness/physical appearance). But sometimes I step back and look at the whole and I'm all 🧐 🤔.

I don't even know what I'm asking lol. Would just love your thoughts/feelings on the confusing spectacle that are Buck and Eddie in season 2. And when/how/why did the show change their mind?

Thank you so much for the ask and you know what? Let’s talk about it.I recently had an in depth chat about this pretty unpopular opinion with a friend and I tried to explain to her why I don't see buddie as an actual pairing or having any canon potential until early s3 and why I don't believe they were planned from the beginning.This will be long and all over the place of course lol

The first and the most obvious reason is the way 911 deals with main characters and their romantic arcs.They don't actually drag it on for long because there is no need or time for that since every single main character has a strong storyline of their own and any romantic development between any pair as an additional combined storyline. Relationships happen fast on 911 because they are planned ahead and the only relationship that took longer than usual few episodes was Chim and Maddie and they were already kissing and planning a date in 2x11.

Also when shows enter their second season there is never a way to predict how long it will stay on the air and because of that it is impossible for me to believe that buddie was planned as some epic old school slowburn that is nowhere as close to be resolved after 3 seasons.When I say old school slowburn I mean shows that have this one heterosexual romance at the center of the universe that is usually stretched across seasons and builds up sexual tension between characters and it takes literally years for them to finally get together.We have these two characters that where made for each other and you KNOW that they will eventually get together because of some ridiculous pining that will eventually end in a kiss and everyone will scream and cry.And maybe that’s how buddie feels to me now after years of careful build up-but the way I see it they as a potential something didn't happen in s2.

We all joke about how character introduction of Eddie is the gayest we have ever seen and Buck's reaction to him as true bisexual and I do that myself too because I am a bisexual too and tbh its hard to unsee (also I don't want to) but lets remove our rainbow glasses for a second. What really did happened in that scene? Eddie's perfect abs on display,Chim and Hen fun comments on how beautiful he is,Bobby's praise and bragging about getting Eddie and his Silver Star on the team and Buck's insecurities flaring up as a reaction to all of this.Buck immediately feels threatened.At this point we of course have no idea how deeply his insecurities run or why,but as episode progresses we witness Eddie on his first call making a better decision to how to handle a medical situation and backed up by Bobby.It has sort of a devastating effect on Buck,who suddenly starts acting like we have never seen him before.Then there is a that scene at the gym where Buck tells Eddie how he is his problem. And later we of course have the scene in ambulance when Eddie asked what exactly they are measuring. Because that's what it looked like - a usual macho men measuring context. But the thing is 911 doesn’t toxic masculinity when it comes to main male characters and we saw many examples of that already by then,but the biggest one was supposed to be BuckandEddie. Equals,partners and best friends.

911 was already pushing boundaries with cast,characters and relationships diversity and I strongly believe that what they wanted to show us was a male equivalent of what we are used to see in female bffs -a different kind of a friendship between men. Men who care about each other,who talk about feelings,discuss sex,dating or why they don’t,who again openly acknowledge that they find each other attractive and giving advices on how to take a more flattering selfie,who are not afraid of crying, admit they are struggling or heartbroken or loving their kid.Honestly when was the last time any of us saw a male friendship like theirs?Men are not allowed to be like that on TV (I am still shocked that its a Fox show tbh) and especially with each other.We are not used to see such a development so no wonder people started paying attention-which was what writers wanted,of course.

But that also brings us to that important question about queer undertones,subtext and do what we actually see in s2. Are there queer undertones?Absolutely. Subtext?It’s right there but you will probably not get it unless you’re reading between the lines.Before we get to Christmas Elf,there was ‘’He is cute!/He gets that a lot,you should’ve seen his kid...’’ Maddie and Buck scene that is once again reinforces that Buck finds Eddie attractive and it shouldn’t be a surprise because we already know from 2x01 he has eyes - but they mention it AGAIN and that personally made me raise a brow or two.By the time we get to that Christmas episode,we already have Shannon back and Buck finally moved on from Abby with Taylor and then Ali and then we are given another queer coded scene-with Christmas elf.And its very cute and to an average heterosexual viewer its a nice little joke,but any queer watching that scene was probably taken aback a little.

So why imo did Tim&Co do it and when they realized they can actually see where they can take BuckandEddie and when they started becoming buddie?My answer is ship teasing.It’s what a lot of people actually mistake for queer baiting,but we are not talking about that rn.Ship teasing works like charm and if shows can get away with that-they will totally use it to their advantage.It’s usually not always malicious,but it IS always intentional because that brings in a category of people that were overlooked for a long time-online fandom.Now I have seen some opinions that fandom doesn’t really matter,it’s the ratings that count and that is NOT TRUE.You can have your ratings,but if there is no buzz online?Your show is going nowhere.For at least a decade now every self-respecting production has teams to monitor fandom activities because it gives them better ideas about how consumers(fans) are interacting with their product (show).Fandom is important because we generate the buzz.So I do believe that BuckandEddie and that sweet ship teasing were to get a certain part of the fandom pay attention.

I wasn’t here when S2 aired so I don’t know if that was the case,but it is obvious that these scenes I talked about above made fans pay a LOT of attention. And maybe that was the reaction writers needed to start changing course from ship teasing to start building up to something else.They maybe didn’t plan it at the very beginning and on paper,but lets also not forget the insane chemistry between Oilver and Ryan,which imo is another big reason-it's impossible to ignore.

Because S3?Is light years away from S2 in terms of BuckandEddie-they became buddie.In s3 Buck and Eddie become each other’s significant other,they are in a primary relationship. ’’Buck invites Eddie...’’?!!!!! It is not yet romantic and probably won’t be until ending of s5 if we are lucky-but it is in your face,they are not subtle anymore.I personally saw buddie only at the end of 3x03 when Eddie came over and said that there is noone in the world he trusts with his son more than Buck, looking like he did into Buck��s eyes,while ‘Photograph’ played in the background right before Buck’s overvoice about being seen and found and a raft to bring one home. After S4 ending tho...we all know that something is about to happen and its like there is electricity in the air as we are waiting for s5!

Probably a lot more thoughts than you expected,but I have many feelings about these two and when buddie goes canon this post will become completely irrelevant lol 💖 

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (extra) || atz

A hand reaches into the frame to press the recording button.

The camera shifts around as the hand moves to adjust it on its tripod, fixing the device in place. When the image finally clears, stills and focuses, the hand moves back to reveal a man with blonde hair done in a mullet.

“Is it done yet?” A voice pipes up in the background.

The man adjusting the camera steps back to reveal a well lit room with wooden floorboards, the words KQ Entertainment behind him in big, white letters. Seven men hover at the back, all trying to push their way into the centre to see the camera.

“It’s on!” The man with the mullet cheers a little at his success. All eight of them rush to form a line, before he announces the beginning of the VLIVE. “하나, 둘, 셋 (hana, dool, seht)!”

“Eight Makes One Team!” They chorus together and bow, wide grins on their faces. “안녕하세요 (annyeonghaseyo)! It’s ATEEZ!”

They burst into a round of scattered applause.

“Hello everyone! It’s Hongjoong here!” The man with the mullet waves at the camera, smiling broadly. “So, due to popular opinion on Tumblr-”

“We’ve decided to check out @chasingatinydream’s fanfiction of us, Pirate King!” The young man with purple hair bursts into the frame, grinning wildly. “We’ve made a reaction video to some of the earlier chapters, which will be uploaded soon! We hope you watch it!”

[atinypiratequeen commented: There is nothing I want more in this life]

“But this video will be about us recreating the legendary post, which made more than half of the readers following Pirate King to curse the author online, Chapter 22, Gunshot! We haven’t read it yet, but we’ll be having one of us narrate as the story goes through!” Hongjoong continues, and everyone cheers, clapping again. “So now, we’ll be introducing the cast!”

“Hi! It’s Mingi here, main rapper and lead dancer of ATEEZ! I’m going to be the narrator for today!” The tall man waves, holding a script book in hand. His hair is wet, as if he’s just come out of the shower.

[imasexybuffalo commented: omg mingi looks so good]

“Hi, I’m Yeosang, playing myself.” The visual king himself waves, gracing all those who watching with with his presence.

[VLIVE Heart Count has increased by 2k]

[gothyeosanggf commented: im ded some1 save me]

[sassy-kpop-glitter commented: His birthmark is so pretty I wish they wouldn’t cover it! Also this chapter was so sad, this video is probably going to make me cry all over again.]

“Wooyoung here! I’m in charge of the sexy performance of this group and I’m playing Chin Hae, the main character!” Wooyoung waves with a big smile, other hand running through his hair. Hundreds of fangirls’ hearts swell all over the globe at the group’s most epic bias wrecker. “Also the one no one knows shit about!”

[@chasingatinydream commented: I was not expecting this portrayal of my MC but sure go for it Wooyoung]

“I’m Hongjoong, acting as Captain of the Treasure!” Mullet man beams at the camera, inclining his head a little in greeting. Then he glances back at the group. “Wasn’t I supposed to be blind in one eye? Where’s my eyepatch? And my red jacket?”

[@princejoongie1997 commented: I love you Hongjoongie <3]

“Here! Your jacket’s still in the wash because you performed with it yesterday, so the staff said to use this instead.” The man with green hair tosses a small black shape and a red blanket to his leader, before stepping into the camera with a cute smile. “Hello everyone, I missed you all! I’m ATEEZ’s San, director and also in charge of special effects and props!”

[@baeksofty commented: someone save me help help helpppp]

[@chasingatinydream commented: San is directing this wth is going to happen to my story]

“Hi.” Seonghwa smiles sweetly from a chair at the side. He raises the selfie stick he’s holding, waving it a little so everyone can see. “I’m Seonghwa, the oldest, and I’ll be the cameraman for this video!”

[@catmosphericlight commented: is it possible to love one man so much? I feel like its impossible]

[@berrylip commented: my finger hurts from smashing that heart button but i’ll do it for you seonghwa]

“Hi, everyone. It’s ATEEZ’s maknae, Jongho.” The youngest member waves his hand, smiling a little as he watches what’s happening right next to Seonghwa. “I’m going to be the extra who fills in any role needed.”

Hongjoong claps his hands once and everyone falls silent for dramatic effect. Jongho reaches behind the couch to pull someone out from hiding, pushing him right in front of the camera. The tall, lanky man shows itself to be Yunho, trying to crawl back behind the couch.

“And finally, our villain! We present to you, Yunho, AKA Leon Bastiville!”

[@someonerandom commented: LEON BASTARDVILLE!!!]

“You’re already getting hate, Yunho.” San comments as he peers at the comments flooding in from the readers. “Who is this Leon guy anyway?”

“I didn’t want to be a villain! Why did my luck run out on me when I needed it the most?” Yunho wails, attempting to hide from sight. Jongho simply grabs him by the ankle and hauls him back to the front, Yunho’s fingers scrabbling along the floor, before he finally locks his arms around Wooyoung’s leg.

[@mireu01 commented: Yunho as a villain i can’t im wheezing-]

“Sorry, we drew lots for this role.” Seonghwa explains over the noise of Yunho trying to escape from Jongho’s iron grip and Wooyoung attempting to pry Yunho’s hands from his calf as he takes the camera from the tripod, attaching it to the stick. It isn’t working. “Yunho picked the lot for the villain.”

“Alright, I’ll begin reading!” Mingi announces, lifting the script to his face. He starts to read, in the most dramatic tone he can. “Chapter Twenty Two, Gunshot, Original Version. Warnings, whipping, some gore- What? I feel like I shouldn’t be reading this on a VLIVE-”

“It’s a zero budget production, we’ll be fine!” San shouts as he gestures from the sidelines for Mingi to continue. The rapper pauses a little hesitantly, before starting to read once more.

“You freeze. Every muscle in your body goes taut, a cold shiver runs down your spine. The arm around your waist is firm, strong and from the almost unbreakable grip he has on you, he doesn’t intend on letting you go any soon.”

“Wooyoung-ah, Yunho-ah.” San studies the script in his hand intently, before pointing at the taller man, who is still prone on the ground with an arm wrapped around Wooyoung’s leg. “You need to get into position, you know.”

There’s a pause, and the two turn to stare at each other in horror. “What?”

“You heard me.” San waves the script impatiently, pulling a Nerf gun from a small box of props the staff must have given him for this video and tossing it at Yunho, who barely manages to catch the bright yellow toy. “Yunho, stand behind Wooyoung and pretend to choke him.”

Neither of them move, still staring at each other.

[@alyj12 commented: Oh my god just do it please!!!]

“The fans demand it.” Seonghwa’s amused voice can be heard as the camera pans in on Hongjoong’s grin at the sidelines, next to San and Jongho. The maknae is snickering uncontrollably, hand over his mouth.

“You need to do it!” Hongjoong calls. He’s donned the black eye patch already and has the red blanket pulled around his shoulders, the thick fabric so long that it almost completely engulfs him with his head popping out of the very top.

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 10k]

[@itslizzeh commented: hongjoons such a cute smol bean save me]

[@chasingatinydream commented: why does hongjoong in that blanket remind me of a pimple]

Grudgingly and with no grace at all, Yunho moves behind Wooyoung, grabbing him by the neck and holding the toy gun to his head. The purple haired man makes several gagging sounds and Yunho’s face is one of utter disgust.

“Very good!” San praises as he glances down at the script again. “Now, Yunho, put your mouth at Wooyoungie’s ear.”

“What?” The two of them shout again, Wooyoung struggling to get out of Yunho’s arms while he still can. Yunho’s face is one of nausea as he scrunches up his nose.

“That’s gross, Wooyoung hasn’t showered since dance practice half an hour ago!”

[@atinypiratequeen commented: the two of them literally got the worst roles lmao]

“Do it, do it, do it!” Jongho and Yeosang are chanting in the corner, the maknae not even bothering to hide his laughter now. Yunho slowly puts his face near Wooyoung’s ear and Wooyoung gags.

“I can feel your breath at my ear! It’s weird!”

“It’s weird for me too, damnit!”

“Stop cursing! Now, Yunho, whisper in Wooyoung’s ear ‘I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.’ ”

“I hate this Leon guy, whoever he is!” Yunho yelps as the camera shakes from Seonghwa’s laughter. “Why is he so weird, going around whispering in people’s ears?”

“I don’t know! Someone save me! This main character’s life sucks!” Wooyoung flails around in Yunho’s grip. The tall dancer makes several loud retching noises, but has probably guessed that he won’t be getting out of this anytime soon. He simply closes his eyes for a moment, channeling his inner actor from that video shoot with Dingo, and leans next to Wooyoung’s ear, whispering softly.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

Wooyoung screeches like a dying cat. “No!”

[@mireu01 commented: someone get this boy an acting role]

“Very good!” San praises, clapping as he turns to Mingi. The rapper continues reading.

“Your heart sinks in your chest as the rest of your crew come into sight. Most of them are tied up in groups with rope, their heads hanging low as Navy soldiers kick and push them out of the cargo hold, where they had been hidden from sight. So that was why the ship had been so strangely silent when you and Wooyoung had returned to the Treasure. They had been captured- Holy shit, that was what happened to us in chapter twenty one?”

“I don’t know, I was saving myself, I mean the main character, from getting shot from a musket bullet!” Wooyoung wails, thrashing around. “Get me out of here! I regret ever drawing this lot! Who wants to be the main character when she has such a terrible life?”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 17k]

“The fans love it!” Seonghwa remarks excitedly, the recording steadying for a moment as he shifts the camera to San, who bows dramatically. Wooyoung shrieks at everyone watching his torment live.

“Yunho, tell Wooyoung ‘Hello, hello, hello, my two dear pirates. Now, we’re finally all here together. I’ve been waiting for this the whole night.’ ”

“That stalker was waiting in wait for us? That’s so creepy.” Jongho comments with a shudder. Yeosang shrugs. He can’t fathom the mind of a lunatic either.

“There’s poison in his voice, sweet as honey and as dangerous as snake venom. You don’t dare to struggle against him for fear of being shot point blank in the head, but his hold on you is making you panic and he’s crushing your windpipe, making every breath an arduous effort.” Mingi reads aloud, and Yunho, getting a little too into character, squeezes Wooyoung’s neck tighter. The shorter dancer yelps, flailing around.

“You’re choking me!”

“Very good, Yunho!” San applauds, completely ignoring Wooyoung’s plight. Yunho grins, nodding at the camera.

“Hey, I’m pretty good at acting!”

[@alyj12 commented: someone save wooyoung he looks like he’s going to die]

“Wooyoung’s fine!” Seonghwa beams, zooming in on Wooyoung’s struggling to free himself.

“You’re killing me!”

“Wow, Wooyoung’s really getting into character. Good job, Wooyoung!” Hongjoong raises a thumbs up with a proud smile on his face.

“I’m not in character-”

“ ‘While the two of you were off causing your little commotion back there at the official’s building,’ the officer drawls, playfully resting his chin on your shoulder as he addresses the crew, ‘one of my men ran back to the harbor to report it to me. My colleague that saw to you yesterday, Yoongi, was already suspicious of you. He smelled gunpowder on your ship, but your little de facto captain told us that you hadn’t been fired on.’ ”

“Are you serious? He smelled us out?” Jongho looks unimpressed by this, scowling. “Who the heck goes around just smelling ships?”

“Bring him out.” Yunho snarls, pressing the toy gun tighter against Wooyoung’s head. His finger must have slipped on the trigger, because there’s a pop sound and Wooyoung yelps, a foam dart falling to the ground.

“That hurt!”

“No, Yunho, he’s not supposed to die yet.” San corrects, shaking his head and completely ignoring Wooyoung. Yunho pouts, breaking character for a moment.

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, Hongjoongie-hyung, it’s your moment to shine!” San announces, turning to his leader. Hongjoong tries to make his way over, but then he steps on the hem of his red blanket and trips, sprawling on the ground in front of the camera. “Oh, that was very good acting, hyung!”

“That wasn’t acting-”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 49k]

Mingi glances across the script. “Leon clicks his tongue and you see your captain shoved forward, head bowed and hands bound in front of him. Part of you desperately wants to run to the man who named you, to insist he never incline his head to someone he doesn’t respect, but you are completely powerless now. He looks so small- Doesn’t hyung always look small? What’s the difference?”

“Yah, Mingi!” Hongjoong shouts as he attempts to get up, but trips and falls again. Jongho is snorting uncontrollably, hand reaching for a cup of popcorn that definitely wasn’t there earlier and Yeosang’s face is buried in a pillow as his body shakes with laughter.

“Bring me the cat.” Yunho snaps, getting into the mood once more, and San glances around for his extra.

[@teajuns commenting: yunho really getting into it kshdksj]

“Jongho, you’re going to be the guy that whips Hongjoong-hyung.”

Jongho couldn’t look happier, jumping to his feet at the words, his eyes shining.

“Really?”

Hongjoong’s eyes widen almost comically in horror and he desperately scrambles back. “He’s going to break my back!”

“We don’t have a whip, but we do have a squeaky hammer!” San grins, pulling out the plastic mallet from the box. He tosses it to Jongho, who catches it and eyes it with a vindictive smile Hongjoong’s honestly quite terrified of.

“Don’t worry, hyung. I promise I’ll be gentle.” Jongho looks more terrifying than that Leon guy could ever be. Striding over, he rips the red blanket from Hongjoong, leaving the poor leader on the ground. He raises the squeaky mallet.

The sight is menacing.

“I’m not doing this!” Hongjoong shrieks, running for his life around the dance studio, Jongho chasing after him. Seonghwa documents the whole thing, spinning round and round in circles before he finally retreats the the floor.

“Sorry everyone, I got too dizzy.” He apologises with a laugh.

“Let me go!” The leader screams as Jongho catches him by the legs, sending both of them sprawling to the ground.

“Tell me who broke my guitar string!”

“Never!”

The maknae raises the hammer and mercilessly thwacks his hyung with it, the rubber hammer going squeak squeak squeak.

“Fine, fine, fine! I broke it while trying to play Havana, okay? God, please just stop hitting me! I surrender!”

There’s a final, hard smack and the hammer goes flying out of Jongho’s hands, hitting Wooyoung straight in the face.

[@roamingthesails commented: i can’t stop laughing this is so stupid]

Squeak!

“Ow! I’m not even a part of your scene, Jongho!”

“Hongjoong’s back is a mutilated, bloody mess of raw flesh and shredded skin, crimson streaming from several open wounds. Your captain is on his knees, face pressed against the floor, body trembling.” Mingi baulks a little at the intense description. “You can’t even begin to imagine what absolute agony he must be in, your musket wound was nothing compared to this. But your captain remains silent, teeth gritted against the torment brought on with each swing of the whip. Honestly, you’re so cool in this story, hyung. The last time you got a paper cut you nearly cried and went to Seonghwa-hyung to get a plaster-”

“I didn’t!” Hongjoong groans from the floor, attempting to massage his back. Jongho climbs off him with a triumph grin, settling next to Yeosang.

“Now act like you’re strong and laugh at Yunho, Hongjoong-hyung.” San directs his leader, but the lead rapper simply remains prone on the ground.

“I’m dead, I’m dead…” He moans, lying on the floor like a dead fish. “Just let me die…”

San squirts a bottle of red liquid on his back and Hongjoong screams, leaping off the floor in fright. The back of his shirt looks like a bloody mess. “San, what was that?”

“Ketchup.” The brand is blurred out, but it’s ketchup, alright. “It’s supposed to be your blood.”

“I showered before this…” Hongjoong whines, staring mournfully at his shirt. San ignores him and moves to check his script once more.

[@faith032101 commented: Does this make Hongjoong a snack?]

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 105k]

“Act evil and tell Hongjoong you’re going to whip Wooyoung too.” He instructs, and Yunho turns to Hongjoong with an evil grin that looks way too into character.

“Let me go!” Wooyoung tries to slip out of Yunho’s arms, but fails spectacularly once again. “I don’t want to get beaten up by Jongho! How is this kind of thing even allowed to be aired-”

“I wonder if your tongue will loosen if I do it to one of your crew, then?”

“I don’t want to die!”

“Now rip Wooyoung’s shirt, Yunho.” San instructs, studying the script. Wooyoung shrieks, doubling his efforts to become Houdini.

“This shirt cost me eighty two thousand won! Don’t do this to meeeee-”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 579k]

[@addictmaniac commented: TAKE ONE FOR THE ATINY TEAM AND DO IT YUNHO]

Mingi adds on grimly. “Uncaring of the gun at your head, you flail and thrash against him, to no avail.”

“This shirt was expensive-”

With that, Wooyoung finally breaks free of Yunho’s grip, but the momentum brought on by his little escape sends him stumbling and he trips over Hongjoong’s blanket, before sprawling on top of his leader.

“Ow!”

“Wooyoung, you little-”

“Oh my god Hongjoong’s finally found out Chin Hae is a woman!” Mingi gasps in shock, a hand coming over his mouth. Yeosang gapes in shock.

“Oh no! What’s going to happen? Wooyoung’s going to hate her and they’re never going to be together-”

“Eh, I more of shipped her with captain anyway.” Jongho drawls.

“And he looks so betrayed! Hongjoong, don’t be sad! I promise Chin Hae didn’t want to lie to you-”

“I knew it from the beginning…” Hongjoong groans from under Wooyoung. Mingi ignores him.

“Not you, the cooler Hongjoong in the book.”

“She’s coming back with us. I hope you’re pure for sale, my sweet, but I suppose that may be difficult when you’re on the same ship as so many men- I sound like a pervert, I’m not saying this.” Yunho shakes his head, tossing the script away. It smacks into the camera.

“Ah!” Seonghwa rushes to save it. “Yunho!”

“Hongjoong-hyung, you’re supposed to shout Wooyoung’s name and we get a smoke bomb-”

“But I’m the main character!” Wooyoung protests as he heaves himself off his leader. The front of his shirt is sticky with ketchup, as if he’s the victim of a homicide case.

San pauses to think for a moment. “That’s true. We’ll just move on then. Jongho, smoke bomb please!”

Jongho picks up the cup of popcorn and throws it into the air. It goes absolutely everywhere.

“Great work, Jongho!”

“He flies out of nowhere, lunging for your captor. Leon snarls and tries to kick him away, but then he raises a short knife and buries it in Leon’s arm. The man holding you stumbles back onto the gangplank, falling onto the ground and your saviour takes your hand.” Mingi reads aloud, eyes wide. Then his mouth falls open. “Yeosang, you’re going to-”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 1.7M]

“Yeosang the knight in shining armour to the rescue!” Jongho pulls three kazoos from his pockets and blows wildly. The screeching noise almost breaks a few thousand eardrums around the world.

Yeosang stands up, picking his way through the ketchupy, popcorn mess that is the room. He takes Wooyoung’s hand awkwardly.

“Like this?”

“Great! Yunho, pick up the party popper there and shoot Yeosang with it!” San cheers, almost grinning madly. Yeosang’s eyes widen in horror.

“Wait, what-”

Boom!

[@pinkrosesandblackthorns commented: YEOSANG IS DEAD ARGHHHH]

[@sassy-kpop-glitter commented: NO! NO! YEOSANG NEEDS TO LIVE AND BE HAPPY! DON’T BE SO CRUEL YUNHO]

[@ateez-8-makes-1-team commented: HOW COULD YOU DO THIS YUNHO]

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Yunho yelps, dropping the confetti gun.

Yeosang slumps to the ground, groaning. “That hurt…”

“Join the club.” Hongjoong mutters, a few inches next to him and completely spent.

“Wooyoung, go and shake his body and cry.” San whirls around dramatically, tossing his script into the air.

Wooyoung finally decides to try his hand at acting and sinks to his knees next to Yeosang. San shakes another red bottle on the two of them. “NAORIIIII!”

“No, that movie is Goblin, Wooyoung-”

“What is this ketchup? It’s burning my skin!” Wooyoung shrieks and San double checks the bottle, face turning a little pale.

“Oh. It was chilli.”

There’s a moment of silence as Yeosang and Wooyoung both stare at each other. Then they’re bolting for the door in horror, dashing from the dance studio while tripping over their own feet.

San follows, calling after them.

“Need any help, guys?”

“I’m a terrible person. I’m a terrible cruel, cold hearted man who just killed Yeosang with a confetti gun.” Yunho is mumbling to himself. Mingi pats him on the back, pushing him out of the door as well.

“Maybe you should get some rest, hyung. I hear the author has some pretty nasty stuff planned for you after the Sea Witch arc…”

[@chasingatinydream commented: STOP SPOILING THE STORY MINGI]

The two vanish out of the door.

“I’m going to take a shower and see a doctor.” Hongjoong groans, dragging himself after them. The door clicks shut behind him.

The camera turns around to fit Seonghwa’s unruffled face into the frame.

“Well, that was Pirate King, chapter 22, gunshot. Roll credits.” He shows the floor, the scene of a massacre with popcorn scattered everywhere. “I suppose this is just a good opportunity for cleaning up, hmm?”

[VLIVE Heart Count has reached 3.6M]

The next thirty minutes of the VLIVE are of Seonghwa’s Cleaning ASMR.

[nitannichionne]

Leading Lady, Chapter 17: Vegas Mission (A Henry Cavill Cast Fic)

Chapter 17: Vegas Mission (Shane POV)

I was determined, on a very personal mission as we flew into Vegas. It was Thursday, so I had until Friday night. I was quiet on the flight, thinking about what happened in Phoenix:

We were signing autographs and taking pictures at the con. So far, she was doing autographs and I was taking more pictures than anything, recognized from BBC and Kitara's covers. She was answering lots of questions, discussing books, and I could tell, trying not to look at me because some questions were about our relationship.

Then this actor type showed up.

He gave a small smile. "You probably don't know me--"

"You look familiar," Kitara frowned. "You did a movie on Lifetime, a thriller suspense one!"

"I did!" He looked relieved.

"Rob? Rob, uh--"

"Wilson," he seemed happy to be remembered. "I heard you were going to be here, and I had to meet you."

"Really?"

Oh, my God, was she eating this? I stepped up next to her after taking a picture.

"I have been following you for years now, so of course if there's any role I can be considered for, I'd appreciate it." Rob smiled. "But I do have a question."

"Shoot."

"Why did you hide?" he asked. "I am looking at you and--"

"I know!" I said, putting an arm around her. "I thought the same thing."

"Oh, I didn't know you'd be here. You're uh--from Britain, right?"

"Yes," I offered my hand. "Zachary Sheridan."

"Nice to meet you," Rob nodded. "Oh, you've got someone there waiting."

An excited fan was waiting to take a picture with me.

"Oh, excuse me," I smiled, touching Kitara's hand and moving away to take the photo. I strained to hear what was said.

"So, how's it going? Heard it's your first con tour."

"Alright," she nodded. "It's so much easier with Shane around."

"Shane?"

"Oh, Shane---" she nodded in my direction, and was surprised to make eye contact with me. "Shane is his real name."

"Oh, so you guys are on a real first name basis."

"Yes," she smiled.

He gave a small smile. "What other basis are you on?"

She blinked. "We're getting to know each other."

"Hmm." He nodded. "Well, please let me know if you need anything." He put his phone numberin her phone and handed her a card. "I hope to hear from you."

"Uh, thanks."

I was boiling inside as I thanked the fan and she left. This guy was basically flirting with her! And since we were working, I couldn't stay by her side. That little--

"Rough, huh?"

I turned to see none other than Colin Wayne standing there. "Uh, hi."

"Study long, study wrong, man," Colin shook his head. "Make a move!"

I turned to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Hey!" Colin greeted a little loudly, and took my hand to shake it. "If I sat like you did, I would have never gotten my wife, and never had my son."

I felt stupid. He was young, but ahead of the game in this respect, I reckon. I sighed. "I want to-"

"Fortune favors the bold, man," Colin's eyebrows raised, putting his arm around me and posing for selfie with me. "I heard that she approached you to be her cover for her book. She approached me, too, but she never sent me a manuscript."

"I know."

"Like--your girl--said, if you know, act like you do," he advised, clicking his phone. "More models and actors are seeking her out. Nothing wrong with that, but if I were you, I'd be drawing lines in the sand, like, all around her." He gave a smile. "That's the soldier in me, though."

"Thanks, you just confirmed something for me." I told him, offering my hand. "Thanks, Colin."

"Anytime, Shane, anytime." He left, waved at Kitara and joined his family off in the distance.

"Shane?"

I was startled for a second, coming out of deep thought. "Uh, what?"

Kitara frowned. "What on earth were you thinking about? You looked...different."

"Nothing, darling," I said quickly, back in the present and on the plane. I covered her hand with mine. "I guess I just want to stretch my legs, go for a jog after we land and get settled."

"Jog?" she repeated with a scoff. "You're on your own there, fella."

I smiled, knowing that was what she would say. She loved to cycle, not to jog. "Tell you what, you hit the spa, I'll hit the gym this morning. We'll meet up for a late lunch or early brunch."

"Okay," she raised an eyebrow. "What are you up to?"

I was about to think of something to say, and she raised both eyebrows, her way of telling me to tell the truth. "If I told you I wanted to go out with you tonight, would you hold it against me?" I saw her expression become so sweet and tender, I couldn't help but take her hand and kiss it.

"Oh, that'd be...so nice," she looked as if her eyes were misting. "You mean, like dress up and everything?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "And we have time to do all that activity stuff Friday or Sunday or Monday."

"Or spread it out," she seemed pleased with this idea. "I'm...you made plans for us!"

"Yes, I made plans," I told her. "And I pulled a few strings. We're staying at the Luxor."

She let out a squeal that had people on the plane looking at us. "Oh, Shane!"

"I missed your birthday earlier this year, darling," I murmured. "Am I forgiven?"

"YES!" She hugged me tight, and whispered. "I've never been to Vegas. This is going to be...epic!"

"Vegas, epic, that definitely goes hand in hand," I told her, trying not to laugh. I kissed her temple.

As soon as we landed and checked in, I told her to look for shows she wanted to see, or casinos she wanted to visit. She ran off to the spa with barely a word, but kissed me goodbye. She was so excited, so giddy.

I did plan on hitting the gym, but not the one at the Luxor. I had friends at the Excalibur, and I had a favor to call in. The hotel was set in medieval times and I wanted to do something for her. I wanted to do a duel or something. That was easy to rig. A ninety minute workout with some old friends, a quick review of swordplay to show I still had the skill, and a promise to try to get them into one of the movies and I was in. I sent headshots of my old pals to Rick and crossed my fingers, but at least I kept my part of the deal.

Finally, I had one thing left to do. I put on a cap and sunglasses and hopped in a cab. "The Black Room, please." In minutes I was there. I even left the cab running; this wouldn't take long.

The clerk was dressed for the place, and she took one look at me and smiled. "How can I help you?"

"I'd like a pair of handcuffs, and do you adjust the length of chain?"

The clerk's smile broadened. "Anything you need."

"Perfect."

@mistress-of-ward​ @summersong69​ @griscka75​ @kebabgirl67​

[cecilbaldwin-fan]

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Three! If you’d like to be tagged, please sent an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grieving process. Age Gap. Character pregnancy. Unrequited feelings. Online personality problems. Guilt. I believe that is all.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“Hi, there,” The woman giggled into the mic as Jensen played up the flirty eyebrow bounce and cheesy smile that would be cast over Tumblr within twenty four hours.

He was finished after that final panel, for the trip. Nothing sounded better than a hot shower and catching some sleep. His mind was still reeling from the news he'd been given that morning, but he couldn't focus on that. So, he buried himself behind that charming persona he'd created.

“Dude, leave her alone...she wants me,” Jared smoothed his thick, long, chestnut locks in a way that caused thirsty cries from all around. He cackled as his friend mock frowned his way; unimpressed at the turn of attention. Earning the familiar high pitched laugh from the crowd in front of them.

It was easy to play into their hands. To take the nerves that came with being shy and put it towards acting like a dork with his best friend. He appreciated the disguise more than he'd ever say. Letting it mask the worry and fear he could feel churning inside of him when it was too quiet for long.

“Actually, my question is for Jensen-”

“Ha!” The mentioned man in question leaned forward at the barked utterance, pretending to gloat. Smugly bouncing his brows at Padalecki.

With a deep, regretful sigh, the taller of the two settled back in his chair; wrapping his arms around the back of it as he sat in reverse, “Okay, I guess.” The over dramatically stated words were coupled with a theatrical sulk that drew forth more giggles.

“I was wondering if Y/N and the kids are enjoying the trip to San Diego,” It was no secret that his family had been flocked around him. Until now, that is. The way he paused at that had every eye present turning towards him.

“Uh, actually...” He forced his lips to stay upright. “They're back home, right now.” Concerned 'awes' filled the air. “No, no. It's okay. They're living it up.” Jared turned his gaze back to the man he'd been brothers with for almost two decades. Not buying into the idea that he was really alright with it. “Last time I checked, they were having some kinda dance party. Again.” The way he clenched his teeth relaxed the fans a bit. An over emphasized grimace always seemed to break the mood. “It was wild. There was pink everywhere and a herd of little girls shouting to music.”

“Odette was leading the charge on the one I got,” The taller man joined in, having received his own recording. “Kicked Zeppelin over to my place for an old fashioned dinosaur night with the boys.” More awes filled the air.

“Y/N sent you something? I thought you two still weren't talking after you tried to drown her?” His brow crooked, finding something he could latch onto. Knowing that his friend had delivered that ammo on purpose. He really did love the moose.

“I can explain!” Jared held up his hand towards the 'ooohs,' and then stopped. “No... no, I can't.” His head dipped in false shame, earning another set of rambunctious chuckles.

“I can.” Jensen easily took over. Turning to better face the crowd now that he'd successfully maneuvered around the original question. “This guy tortures my nanny. She's like the female version of Misha to Jared. It's endless.” The mentioned man's lips screwed up as he nodded proudly, accepting the label that was thrown onto you. “So, we were at a cookout over at his place. I'm flipping burgers and relaxing with a beer. You know...like a normal person.” His words only made his friend shrug. Zero shame in sight. “Next thing I know? She's screeching as he full on tosses her into the pool.”

“She called me old!” The roar that followed was deafening. “See? They get it!” He beamed at the response only serving to make Jensen over-exaggerate the roll of his green eyes. “And, it worked. What did she say after?”

“You're a child.” The admission was straightforward.

“Meaning that I'm young, and that she was wrong.” A round of applause made him get to his feet, and bow as the widower shook his head in mock shame. Cracking his own grin.

The mic was lifted back to Jensen's lips, “Dude...you started a war because she told the truth?” He knew what had been said, but the crowd was eating it up. Keeping him safe for a little while longer.

“That hurts...” A pat to the heart was thrown in. “That hurts me right there.”

“The kids all joined in. It was chaos.” Ackles explained the previous comment to the women, with a few men scattered here and there. “My kids and Y/N versus his herd and him. We needed an ark to get to the tables. They soaked everything.” His hand panned across the people in front of him, emphasizing how far the damage had spread. “Everything. Gen thought they were going to kill each other.” Jared cackled. Remembering the look on his wife's face. “Y'all know how we had to stop pranking each other, right? 'Cause it was so deadly? That's what they should be doing. Instead, she's become this...epic battle partner. I'm thinking they'll start the next apocalypse before this is over.” A proud nod confirmed it. Jared wouldn't give in until the world ended. Or, he had to go back to work. Whichever happened first.

“Do you prank Y/N?” Someone shouted, catching his attention.

“Do I... Do I prank her? Are you kidding? Do I look stupid?” More laughs filled the air as he shuddered something fierce. “Misha? Absolutely. He doesn't fight back.” His fingers tacked off each point. “He doesn't live in my house. Doesn't hang out with my kids. I like not having to worry about her sicking my spawn on me in retaliation. They'd do it in a heart beat, too.” And most importantly, it kept the professional barriers somewhat in place. “Yeah, no, Y/N and I don't....we're not...” Weren't anything other than co-parents, employer and employee, and almost friends in an odd sort of way. How's that for complicated?

“As fun as I am,” Jared finished, saving him, again. Hoping that the fans wouldn't take that last statement as he had started to. He covered his own look of interest before diving back into the panel. “Now, that we went way off topic....who's next?”

–

“How did the 'mom' thing even start?” You asked in confusion, scrolling through your Instagram notifications. Your feet thrown over the back of the couch as you sprawled. Making yourself quite at home in the Ackles house. The selfie you'd posted while cleaning the damage the girls had caused was packed.

Not that you weren't used to it by that stage. The moment Danneel had tagged you in a post, it had been over. You'd been stalked and fawned over by some. When she passed? You'd been flocked for updates about the Ackles family.

It had taken a year for you to gather the courage to begin posting again. Once you did? The fandom clung to you for offering small pieces of what life was like inside the Ackles' household. Needing to have that sense of closeness to the supernatural family, still, even with a member gone.

The simple image of you with Oscar resting his head on your lap as you sorted the makeup away had garnered the usual 'queen', 'mom', and 'I love yous' mixed with the occasional trash talker. Once Jensen had commented saying he wanted his dog back when he got home? It had grown worse. When you told him that he'd have to fight you for the golden doodle? The post had blown up. The fans demanding to know if you and him had something going on.

Apparently his panel had only cemented the idea, somehow. You hadn't watched it. Leaving you to only wonder what he'd said to garner that response. Sure it had simply been taken out of context.

You scrolled on, determined to find some answers. A few flicks of your fingers and fate intervened. The phone slipped to your face. Making you wince all the while. As if life had directly told you that social media was bad for your health.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone to the couch. Trying to not let the extreme Danneel and Jensen fans get under your skin. Too many 'you'll never be her' comments filled your mind. More than enough 'stop trying to take her place' had you questioning where you stood. You were doing everything you could to get what was needed done while not dancing on your deceased friend's toes.

Did the world really not understand? Were you really any better off than they suggested? The small crush said you weren't.

“No idea,” Genevieve stated seriously, walking towards the grey couch you were occupying with a pile of healthy snacks loaded up. Pulling you from the internal struggle. She'd been extra conscious of what she was putting into her body since she'd discovered the newest pregnancy. “I just kinda...roll with it.”

She and the kiddos were bunking with you. Tag teaming was so much simpler when the baby exhaustion hit. And it gave the both of you some grownup time together when the men were away.

“It's so strange,” You picked up one of the grapes with your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Giving up on trying to understand the fact that you'd become an icon of sorts- and the ramifications- for simply nannying some, albeit great, kids.

At your friend's next words, you choked, “So...what's the deal with you and Jensen?”

“It's the same as its always been,” Came the broken words as you got back a hold of yourself. Brushing it off. “Why?”

“Just curious,” That wasn't it. The cool, actress's poker face she wore said as much. But, you were too sensitive to call her out on it, just then. Luckily, she changed gears. “I can't believe that this is it...The last season is being filmed this year.”

The CW had finally pulled the plug on the Winchesters once it had hit adulthood. The boys had found out in a meeting that morning. They'd known it was coming. Had even agreed to it. And yet? Hearing the finality of it? Was another nail in the coffin.

“Eighteen seasons...It's crazy.” Your hand ran through your hair as you looked at the old episode on screen. Sister Jo stood off against Michael!Dean. The tension in the scene was palpable. It didn't hurt to watch it, anymore. Instead, you focused on the fact that she'd been doing what she loved with the man she'd been head over heels for. “How's Jared holding up?”

“He's zeroed in on the kids. Telling himself that it's going to be good for us in the end.” Her hand rubbed over her still flat stomach. “But, he's definitely feeling it. He's been Sam for so long... Saying goodbye is hard.”

“That it is,” You agreed, frowning at the screen. Wondering how Jensen was taking the day.

He hadn't said a thing to you when he'd checked in. Simply had asked for an update on the household before he crashed. Dean had become his crutch. Without the Winchester in his life, you weren't quite sure what he'd do with himself.

Ackles had a passion for directing and acting. There was no doubt about it. But, Supernatural had become everything when his life had turned upside down. It had given him the consistency he'd needed to get through. And while things had been okay for a time? It would be just another major thing he was losing.

Your socked foot rubbed over the soft fur of Icarus. The cockapoo was up there in age. He'd been diagnosed with congestive heart failure at sixteen years old. The white, fifteen pounds of floof didn't let it deter him, though. A couple of pills a day kept him comfortable and loved for as long as he could be. But, it had gotten under Jensen's skin, too.

It made your stomach churn to think about how fast the negative could pile up on already weakened shoulders. And yet, he wanted you to step back. Having time away from him had cleared your head. Allowed you to see his side of things. Maybe it was time to give him some room to breathe. To let him process everything on his own. After all, you were just the nanny...

–

“Dad!” Three voices shouted in unison when the door opened. Ditching their place at the table as Jensen stumbled in with a wide smile on his face. Each kid got a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

When they tried to talk over each other, he slowed them down, gently with a, “One at a time.” And, miraculously? It worked. He was informed of everything he'd already had reported to him. Only this time? In child perspective. Which made it dramatic. Completely over the top. Just the way he liked it.

A nod your way was all you received as you slipped past the scene; lifting his bag for him so that no one tripped over it. Including the bumbling dog that was trying to get a kiss in, himself. Oscar had missed his human while he'd been gone.

The dog had been with Danneel's brother during her last pregnancy. She'd been too sick to handle the energetic buffoon while Jensen had been away, filming the show. Gino had fallen in love with the pup. Keeping him...until he thought Jensen needed him more. Returning him back to the Ackles' home solemnly. Oscar had, once again, latched back onto the head of the house with a fierce loyalty that most wouldn't expect from a fluffed up mixed breed. The affection was mutual. Jensen's hand stilled the squirming beast with a simple pet to the top of his curled head as you left the chaos.

Jensen's room was clean. A feat that wouldn't last long once he started unpacking. Bed made up, clothes lined nice and neat, with just a hint of his cologne still lingering in the air from before he'd left. You dropped the duffle on the mattress and turned away. Only to catch sight of the image beside his pillow. It held the dogs, his wife, and the kids all surrounding him. Everything he loved in one picture. His family.

Slowly, you slid the door shut and returned back to the reunion, “Dinner's ready if you're hungry.” You smiled softly at the way he ensured each kid knew that they were loved before climbing back up to his feet. Lumbering after you to get the food while it was still hot.

“Spaghetti,” The actor rumbled in excitement, sniffing the air as he approached the table. His lips smacked hungrily. He was a sucker for a pasta with a good meat sauce. “The wardrobe ladies are gonna be mad at me, later, but I'm piling it up.” He hadn't exaggerated. The flight had left him hungry. “God, this is good.” Came the Dean-like groan as he chowed down. Forgetting that he didn't have to eat like a man who had lived off of nothing more than pizza and beer.

“Dad!” The tiny, disapproving tone left J.J with ease. “You're not supposed to talk with your mouth full.”

He gulped down the food, and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, J-bird.”

“It's okay. Just try to remember,” The words were so Danneel that you couldn't help but to smile gently at them. She was going to be trouble as she continued to age. But, you had faith she'd be pretty great in the end. Hell, they all would if the night was any indication.

If he was upset about the show ending, he didn't show it. Even after the kids retired for the night and he helped clean up, he didn't say a word. The only thing you got was a pat on the back and a low “goodnight” that made your skin prickle before you returned your own.

Part Four

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord​​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​ @briagallen​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @supernaturalginger​​ @lilulo-12​​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @malfoysqueen14​​​  @michealneedssomemilk