#they talked about wanting to have stakes but there really hasn’t been. not when you can pull past pcs to rez a current one

[disneyprincemuke]

too young to know it gets better * fem!driver

there has to be someone out there that can snap her out of it, right?

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: HI AFTER THIS THERE's one left and i promise that's not AS angsty as this one and i'm thinking of adding one or two more bonus chapters?? lolsie but idk we'll see!

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

rockster has disconnected.

that’s the notification that had brought logan and oscar together some random afternoon. they stand in the confinements of the elevator in silence, not a single word uttered since they’d met one another in the lobby after sending a simple text out.

but they know what they’re here for.

logan hadn’t moved that fast in concern for her, dating back 3 years ago when mick had supposedly texted him about marrying his crush in vegas. he had sprinted 2 blocks from his apartment building to hers in the span of a couple of minutes.

and oscar had been running errands with lily prior to getting the notification. when she’d noticed her boyfriend staring down at his phone with distress all over his face, she’d immediately pushed him towards the exits to attend to the girl. she’s also a close friend, so she notices.

if you asked oscar, he’s been worried for months. but with her tendency to keep rejecting his initiation for small talk, it’s difficult to try and find the words to try and pry a confession out of her. but this disconnection from an application they’ve had for years raises red flags that they didn’t even know were possible.

“we’re not overreacting, right?” oscar mutters as they step out of the elevator at her floor.

logan nods, lips pressed into a thin line as he counts the steps he takes down the familiar hallway. “she dropped kidnapper off at my apartment like a week and a half ago. i haven’t heard from her since.”

oscar turns to him. “you’ve heard from her?”

“barely,” logan grimaces with a shake of his head, eyes trained on the hallway. “i invited her in for snacks but she declined and left immediately.”

“i haven’t seen or heard from her since the summer break began.”

“she hasn’t been picking up my calls either.” he turns to oscar. “that’s weird, right?”

logan almost wants to laugh at their conversation. if he didn’t consider that their best friend was the person at stake, he would have laughed the loudest he’s ever. they simply sounded like they were answering one another for copium in hopes that their best friend hasn’t lost her mind just yet.

when he unlocks the door to her apartment, they’re taken aback by the sight they’re immediately greeted with. and for logan, it’s whiplash — he’s only ever had fond memories of this apartment. to find it absolutely thrashed almost breaks his heart a little bit.

in his mind, he can hear the girl always scolding him for being messy when they were living together.

the curtains, typically letting the sun seep into the room, are drawn in to block the light out. the floor is littered with her things and there’s a chair toppled over on the ground. a picture frame on the entertainment system beneath the tv is faced down against the counter and if logan can recall perfectly, it’s their picture from when they were kids.

“what happened in here?” oscar mutters, stepping around the items of stray pieces of clothing on the ground. “should we call someone? do you think someone broke into her apartment?”

“let me call her and see if she’s alright,” logan sighs, fishing for his phone in his back pocket.

he hadn’t expected the situation to be so concerning. have they really let her run rampant on her own all this time?

he dials her number, just about to press the call button when a lock clicks and a door opens.

the girl, albeit slightly unrecognisable at first, steps out of her bedroom. she’s still in her pyjamas, cheeks wet and eyes puffy with her hair in a messy ponytail talling apart on her shoulder.

“who- rocky?”

she flinches back at the voice, catching her off-guard. she sighs tiredly as she pushes her hair out of her face, wiping her cheeks dry on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “what are you guys doing here”

“what are we- when did you get back?” logan tilts his head in confusion. he gestures towards the mess around them, “and what happened? have you been crying?”

she sighs again, eyes fluttering as she turns to look away from them. “you guys should really go. it’s not a good time right now,” she says softly, gesturing them towards the front door of her apartment.

“we can stay and help you clean everything up,” oscar mutters, mirror logan’s stare at the ground, “we’re just curious. you don’t typically let your apartment get this messy.”

“mate,” another sigh comes with her pinching the bridge of her nose, “it’s really not a good time right now.”

oscar’s head snaps up. “are you avoiding us?”

she stares at him tiredly. “what? no, it’s just-”

“you are, aren’t you?” oscar cuts her off, feeling an overwhelming wave of frustration takes over him. months of what feels like a one-sided friendship finally catches up to him.

every single rejection of plans reminds him how neglected their friendship has been, every time she’s ‘forgotten’ to look for an ice cream parlour makes his blood boil. it is such a one-sided friendship as of late and it feels like she’s no longer honouring the years of friendship they have.

“but why? did we do something? did we say something to upset you?”

she slouches her shoulders. she takes a deep breath to recompose herself. “please just go,” she croaks out, feeling a knot in her throat at the realisation of where this entire conversation might be heading. “not now.”

“but what is it? is it us?” oscar frowns. “at least tell us before you start ignoring us.”

she clenches her jaw as her patience runs thin. and she tries to hold on to the last string of patience she has. all these past months, she’s tried her damnest not to be this way to anyone that’s involved in racing.

just to save some face, to show that she’s not completely lost her mind. apart from the fact that they’re all practically colleagues, they’re also her friends.

but as oscar continues to edge her on for an explanation for her behaviour, it’s increasingly getting more difficult to keep her outbust at bay.

“rocky,” oscar calls out to grab her attention. “what is it? i’m so tired of you beating around the bush; if we did something to upset you, speak up. it’s not fair — what you’re doing. you’re cancelling plans, you’re bailing, you’re leaving us hanging… we’ve known each other half of our lives. you can’t just do this.”

logan shifts uncomfortable where he stands. “do you hate us?”

she tries to stop herself, really. but she should be allowed one outburst in her life.

“yes, yes, i actually do!” she admits, venom lacing her words as she starts to explain herself. “it sucks. i’m so fucking jealous of all of you right now. i’ve tried to feel happy for you guys but honestly?” a dry laugh passes her lips, tears falling out of her eyes. “i resent all of the success you’ve found this year.

because you’re doing great and i’m not. it’s annoying because i should be doing great too. because between every single one of us, no one’s worked as hard as i have to get to where i am today. you’re my best friends but i can’t get myself to be happy for you and i hate myself even more for it.”

oscar blinks blankly at her. her chest heaves as she finishes speaking, fists clenched by her side as she starts to cry a little harder.

she’s swallowed down every single drop of resentment she feels towards her friends, all doing well while she’d sunk deeper into the trenches of her own demise.

speaking ill of them that one time they achieved a podium without her haunted her for weeks on end. she couldn’t get herself to speak to them like she hadn’t spent 20 minutes speaking behind their backs about how much she hates that they’re on podiums without her.

“it was easier to avoid you than say things i can���t say.”

it was truly one of the last times she spend with them; the guilt of speaking on them ate her up. she’s apologise out of the blue and they’d have no idea what she was talking about.

admitting it now feels like their friendship would truly never be the same. like this is the one fight that’s been waiting to happen after their years of friendship and would lead to her eventual loneliness.

but she doesn’t expect oscar to start laughing. “are you fucking stupid?”

“excuse me, what?” she scoffs, throwing her head back slightly.

logan sighs next to socar. “come on, don’t be like that. she’s clearly having a hard time right now,” he mutters, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

oscar turns to logan, pointing a hand over to where the girl stand by her bedroom door. “really, logan? you don’t think she’s being so mind-numbingly stupid right now?” he glances at her then immediately looks away. “she’s so insensitive right now. the last thing she should have done is isolate herself but she’s gone ahead and done exactly that.”

oscar huffs and turns back to her with a frown. “you would think that she would fall back on the people who understand her the most. and you still don’t believe she’s being stupid?”

logan sighs again. “oscar.”

“you don’t fucking get it!” she screams.

“we’re the ones who don’t get it? out of everyone you know, we’re the 2 people who understand the most!”

he has a point, she starts to think. but it’s not the same — they’re not the same. their predicaments are different.

they never had to go through and be on the receiving end of words that tried to tear her down as she grew up.

“no, you don’t!” she says with slight amusement. “you’re oscar piastri. everyone’s kissed the ground you’ve walked on; you came into the sport and everyone’s been acting like you’re a prodigy changing the course of the sport. you don’t know what it’s like to be this way!”

“and you thought that pushing away every single person who wants to help you is the solution to your problems?” oscar snorts. then it hits him. “is that why i haven’t seen matt around lately? you drove him away? finally cracked, didn’t he?”

“you don’t know the half of it,” she scoffs. there’s no need for oscar to remind her of the cardinal sin she’d acted upon to drive matt away.

she lives with the repercussions of it every single day: coming back to an empty apartment. just an apartment, a shell of what used to feel like home.

“all of this over a bad couple races?” oscar rolls his eyes and another mean scoff passes his lips. he was unaware how bad it had gotten for her. “how immature. there’s more to fucking life than your position in f1.”

she sucks in a deep breath. “you’ll never understand.”

“oh, i do,” oscar points out with a small grin. “i grew up with you, rocky, i know how you operate. you break down the minute you’re not the best at something. you get scared and hide away when you don’t feel like you’re on the top of your game.”

“what do you know about what i feel?” she tilts her head with a small smile. “that’s so fucking pretentious of you to say so, oscar.”

“you’ve already made it to the top.” he picks his feet up and starts to walk over to her, shoving away logan’s hand that tries to stop him from threading any further. “it’s unnecessary that you’re still this hard on yourself. you’ve proved everyone wrong by making it this far. there are people on your side,” he jabs a finger into her shoulder and she stumbles back, “there are people who miss you- we miss you!

“do you even realise how lucky you have it right now? you’ve got sebastian helping to push your narrative because he believes in you. do you think everyone’s got that luxury?” he points back at logan. “do you think he had that luxury fight for his life in this sport? did that even cross your mind or are you just so far into your head?”

“oscar,” logan repeats. oscar glances back at logan who has his lips pressed into a thin line, unamused by the scenario he’s choosing to bring up. “don’t even go there.”

but oscar ignores him. oscar turns back to the younger girl and grabs her shoulders, squeezing them firmly as he draws a soft sob from her.

“i thought that because you weren’t entirely alone, it was okay that we take a step back and stopped meddling with your life. i thought you were going to be fine; i thought you knew ho to handle yourself and continue to keep your feet on the ground.”

she shakes her head, bottom lip pouted out. “you don’t-”

“i don’t understand?” oscar scoffs. “how far into your head have you gone to push yourself into a corner? do you realise that you’re in the trenches because you put yourself in there? have you looked in the mirror and actually,” oscar shakes her, “looked at yourself?”

and it seems that something finally clicked in her head. she stares blankly up at him, tears finally running down her cheeks. her chest heaves with constant sobs as she no longer can find the words in her head to prove her point.

“okay, that’s enough,” logan mutters, yanking oscar away from the girl. he shoves the younger boy towards the kitchen. “go and get some air and drink some water — you’re scaring her.”

oscar sniffles, wiping his eyes and stumbles towards the kitchen. he spares her one last glare before turning his back on her. “whatever.”

logan can only sigh when he looks down her head. she’s got her head in her hands as she sobs. she lifts her eyes to look up at him and scoffs. “what? do you have something to say to me? about how deranged i’ve gotten?”

“i don’t know what got into you to think we wouldn’t understand how you were feeling,” he says softly, tears flooding his eyes.

it’s difficult to watch someone you think is so strong be half the person you watched her grow into. he pulls her into his arms, squeezing her into a tight hug and rests his chin on her head.

“i’m sorry,” she cries in staggered breaths into his chest. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know. i didn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he mutters, squeezing her tighter. “we’re here.” he pulls away slightly and cups her cheeks, wiping her tears away with a small grin. “we’ve got you, okay? we’re here now.”

she nods through her tears, “okay.”

“we’ve got you, i promise,” logan hums, pulling her in again. he sways gently as he feels her sobs slowly dying out. “you’ll be okay.”

logan turns around at the sound of things shuffling about. oscar has a trash bag in his hand, picking up empty bottles on the ground and throwing them into the bag silently. she pulls her head back and watches oscar slowly navigate her littered apartment.

sensing their stares, oscar glances over his shoulder. “are you going to help me or are you just going to let me do this by myself?”

she glances up at logan with eyebrows raised and in return, he shrugs with a small smile.

for the next 2 hours, they clean up her apartment in silence. no music, not an utter of another word, just a heavy silence pushing down on their shoulders as they shift about her apartment like a well-oiled machine.

oscar throws his dirty piece of tissue into the bin right by the coffee table and sighs, leaning back into the couch he’s sat on. he’s in a single seater while logan and her share the bigger couch.

her apartment finally looks the way they all remember it. pristine with all her things neatly slotted into their respective slots.

oscar hasn’t spoken to her much since he’d gotten the bright idea to start helping her clean the apartment for her. he’d briefly asked her if she wanted pizza for dinner, to which she simply shrugged and said okay, then asked which toppings she wanted. then they returned to their silence.

he picks up her can of pepsi, popping it open before extending his hand over to her. she turns stiffly and looks at his offer with a blank stare. “oh, thank you.”

she takes it into her hands and glances over at oscar who turns away from her immediately to grab logan’s drink next. “i’m sorry,” she says first, just barely above a whisper. her head is dropped slightly, eyes trained on the slicer of pizza in her hands.

truthfully, she’s not very sure how to apologise for her behaviour. while she’s broken down over things said about her and her progress is a sport that barely had a spot for her, it’s never gotten this bad.

she hadn’t even realised that they still cared with their own lives now.

“no, i’m sorry,” logan says immediately, turning his head to her. “that we didn’t foster an environment where you felt like you could come to use and be honest about how you’re really feeling. you did it for me all the time when we first started out and i’m sorry i couldn’t do the same for you.”

“it’s not even your fault,” she sighs shakily. “i pushed away everyone who tried to extend their hands out to me to help. oscar’s right.”

oscar sighs audibly, sinking into his seat. he turns his head to look at her and purses is lips. “i’m sorry i called you stupid,” oscar says, “we grew up together… i just thought that if you didn’t feel right, we’d still be the people you know you don’t have to put up a facade with. be brutally, disgustingly and painfully honest with.”

“i really didn’t wanna worry anybody,” she frowns. “you have your own lives now, you know? i thought i could handle it on my own.”

“don’t even say that,” oscar turns to her with furrowed eyebrows, “you’re practically my little sister — i’ve driven you to the hospital after you writhed in pain from dislocating your shoulder playing volleyball. i’ve beaten up guys from school for you so of course you’ll always have a place in our lives.”

“i didn’t want you to know that i was a sore loser,” she shrugs with a small grin. she gestures towards logan. “he took our first 2 years in the sport so gracefully. it was embarrassing that i couldn’t do the same when it was my turn.”

“what?” logan scoffs. “you seriously think i wasn’t jealous seeing you guys being glorified by everyone? i felt like shit watching you guys get accepted in the sport with open arms and make new friends without me.”

he gives her a knowing stare when she turns her head to look at him. “i lvoe you, but i seriously despised you so much for being better than me at everything. i felt like the smallest man who’s ever lived when i was next to you. and dude… we were always together.”

she chews on the inside of her cheek. “i didn’t know that… i’m sorry…”

“but at the end of the day, you were always there for me,” logan frowns, poking her arm gently. “i’m sorry i couldn’t give you the same level of comfort to not spiral this bad. the only reason i hadn’t was because you were there for me all the time.”

“well i’m sorry that i was so mean to you,” oscar sighs. “but you know you needed it, right?”

“i know,” she shrugs, “thanks.”

“i don’t wanna be the one to bring it up, though,” logan hums as he reaches forward for another slice, “but what happened with matt?”

she chuckles with a soft snort. she lifts her head and puffs her cheeks out. “i wasn’t very nice to him when everything was falling apart,” tears flood her eyes, “he called for a break. but honestly, i think he wants to break up with me.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “he asked for a break, didn’t he? that’s not a breakup, mate.”

“you weren’t there. i wouldn’t want to be with me either if i had to endure what he went through with me,” she admits with a sigh. she wipes her tears away from her eyes and smiles slightly. “i think he’s just trying to soften the blow.”

oscar laughs. he laughs the loudest and heartiest he’s ever since he’d bolted from lily while they were running errands together. “do you seriously think that?”

she blinks at oscar. “i thought we were done being mean to me, mate.”

“we are!” oscar beams, forcing himself to falter with his laughter. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to make you feel worse. but do you seriously think that matt — the guy who’s in your garage every single weekend, literally comes into the paddocks with ice cream for your entire team, texts logan and i to ask about things to surprise you with — wants to seriously break up with you?”

“well, you weren’t there,” she explains with a frown. “well, you were, once when i was crying in the paddocks. but i was so mean to him.”

“but a break isn’t a breakup,” oscar explains as he points at her knowingly. “you were arguably at your worst, i doubt that he wants to leave you when your mental was that bad. it happens, you know?”

“if he didn’t want to be with you, he would have broken up with you instead of asking for a break,” logan sighs, patting her on the shoulder. “just approach him.”

“i don’t know how to,” she admits, sliding down the couch to lie down slightly. “there’s no gesture big enough to makeup for the things i said… the way i treated him…”

“say you’re sorry,” oscar says with a small grin and a nod. “start there and i’m sure you guys can work it out from there, you know?”

“i’ll try.”

“okay, enough with this,” logan throws his head back with a grunt. “let’s go karting!” he stands up and smiles at her widely. “you sound like you need your edge back. i’ll even let you win this time.”

she scoffs, “as if i’d ever lose to you in equal machinery!”

“aw, she’s back! she’s fighting back now!” oscar cheers, hopping up as he claps his hands. “come on! then let’s get ice cream where we always get it! i haven’t been there in forever.”

“okay, okay!” she laughs, watching the 2 of them jump to their feet and start to clear out her table. she feels a warmth in her chest watching them in her living room. “just let me shower, okay? we kinda cleaned a lot tonight. i won’t take less than 15 minutes, i promise!”

there’s a chorus of heavy sighs and arms thrown in the air. “we might as well cancel karting.”

“but you take forever to get ready!” oscar jokes with a frown. “if you pass 15 minutes, you’re paying for ice cream.”

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#logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 female driver #formula one x reader #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

[sluttywonwoo]

no nut november — felix (loser #6)

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, special guest appearance, jealousy, smut (18+), fwb, protected sex, hard(ish) dom!felix, spit kink, choking, multiple orgasms, orgasm control

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi and i’s collab <3

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist

No one had expected Felix to last this long, least of all Felix himself. When he woke up to Chan’s text saying he lost, he almost couldn’t believe it. Bang Chan was one of the most competitive members of the group. He honestly thought Chris would have had a little more control. 

But Chan’s loss left Felix in the final three, which felt like a big deal. Felix considers himself to be competitive as well, even though he isn’t particularly good at games. He isn’t particularly good at not cumming either, so it’s a miracle that he hasn’t yet. He hadn’t put much stake in the bet at the beginning since he didn’t think he had any chance at winning, anyway, but as more members dropped out and the finish line crept closer, he began to take it more seriously.

He’d even been so careless to have tried to have sex with you at the beginning of the month, convincing himself he could last through it, before pulling out a couple minutes in with a frantic “no no no no no!” 

Felix hasn’t taken any risks since then. 

You’ve been completely understanding about it, to his relief, and haven’t stopped hanging out with him even though you know you won’t be getting laid like you usually would. That type of behavior is obviously expected from a girlfriend, but you’re not his girlfriend even though he treats you like one and talks about you to the guys as if you are. They all know it’s not official and if Felix refers to you as “his girl” without actually making you his girl one more time, he’s convinced Chan’s gonna slap him. He’d deserve it, to be fair. He’s a coward and he knows it. 

You’re not dating, you’re simply friends with benefits and he likes it like that- at least that’s what he tells himself. It takes the pressure off. Even though you’re not exclusive, he’s not fucking anyone else. You are kind of his person in his mind but he would never admit that out loud. He loves spending time with you and going on dates with you and waking up next to you, but at the end of the day he’s a bit of a commitmentphobe. So what if it’s a shitty excuse? He just doesn’t want to fuck up what you guys have going on and lose you completely. Maybe one day he’ll get the balls to have that talk with you, but for now he’s content with the dynamic you already have, that is until the last week of November.

The end of the month is just around the corner and victory is so close he can taste it. He’s been doing so well, resisting the urge to touch you whenever he’s near you. You’re over a lot these days, which he loves but also hates because of how hard you make everything, literally. 

 You’re in his bed today, dangerous territory already, but Minho and Seungmin were occupying the living space so you had no choice but to hang out in his room. Somehow you’d ended up tangled together beneath his sheets, making out and desperately grabbing at each other. Felix feels you grind into him, feels himself getting harder in response, and realizes he won’t be able to stop if you keep going like this. He’s so tempted to just say fuck it and throw caution to the wind, but he’s so close to winning that he knows he’ll never forgive himself if he gives in now.

Felix forces himself to pull back, breaking the kiss. “We should... probably stop,” he says breathlessly, hating himself for ruining the mood.

You take a moment to process and then push yourself away from him, nodding. “Oh, right. I totally forgot about the bet, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry that we haven’t been able to- that I haven’t been able to you know.”

“Lix, how many times have I told you it’s not a big deal?”

“It’s not fair to you, though. I hate leaving you hanging when you’re horny.” And you seem really horny. You were all up on Felix a few seconds ago, already whimpering into his mouth and tugging at the buttons on his shirt.

You scoff. “It’s not like I’m going to die if I don’t get some dick in the next hour.”

“You’re all worked up now, though, and-” 

“I promise you, Felix, it’s fine. I’ll just call Wooyoung to pick me up in like thirty minutes.”

Felix nods before he processes what you’ve said, then it clicks and he whips his head back up to look at you. “Wooyoung? Jung Wooyoung?”

“Mhm.”

“Why would he pick you up when I can just take you back home myself-”

“Lix, he wouldn’t be taking me home...” you trail off a little uncomfortably. 

“What, are you guys like fucking or something?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, a suggestion so outlandish that it would break the tension but you don’t laugh. Felix panics. 

“Wait, seriously?”

You sit up and cross your arms over your chest. “I mean, not as often as you and I but yeah... we hang out sometimes.”

“And by ‘hang out’, you mean his dick hangs out inside of you?”

“Lee Felix!”

“Sorry! It’s just... this is news to me, that’s all.”

That’s not all, and Felix is afraid you can see right through him but he tries to brush it off anyway. 

“Are you okay?” you ask tentatively, reaching for him. 

He jerks away from you out of instinct and immediately regrets it. This is not a good look for him and he knows it. He huffs out a breath and takes your hand in apology, squeezing in reassurance. 

“Lix... is this going to be a problem?”

“N-no, no it won’t be,” he lies. “Just, will you stay a little longer tonight?”

You soften. “Yeah, of course.”

Felix shifts on the bed and pulls you in close, playing with your hair as you nestle yourself into his side. He thinks back to the last time he saw Wooyoung. It was at some stupid after party for The Fact Awards, just over a month ago. You were Felix’s date, he’d gone to get you both a flute of champagne from the table of refreshments, and when he came back, you were in the middle of conversation with Wooyoung. 

Felix didn’t even know you knew each other. If he had, he would have invited you to more of their Strayteez hangouts- any excuse to spend more time with you, honestly. 

He approached the two of you and presented you with your drink, placing his newly free hand on the small of your back as he sipped from his glass. 

“Felix!” Wooyoung exclaimed and pulled the younger man in for a hug. Felix nearly spilled his champagne down Wooyoung’s back but managed to hold it just out of the way so that only a little bit splashed out onto the floor. 

When Wooyoung finally released him, Felix looked between the two of you, trying to connect the dots. 

“So how do you guys know each other?” he asked. 

You just exchanged looks with Wooyoung and chuckled awkwardly, something Felix hadn’t caught on to at the time.

 He feels like an idiot looking back on it. Wooyoung had known this whole time that they were both sleeping with you and never thought to mention it. It was technically none of Felix’s business, but he couldn’t help feeling betrayed by his friend. And Changbin! He was even better friends with Wooyoung than Felix was. He had to have known you were hooking up and also managed to neglect sharing that important piece of information. He would be having words with that man whenever you left and he got back from his girlfriend’s house. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” you whisper all of the sudden, breaking the silence. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I know you can be sensitive about these things so-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Felix blurts out. 

“But-”

“We’re not exclusive or anything and we agreed on that. As long as you’re being safe with him...”

You nod. “You don’t have to worry about that. We use condoms, just like us. No one’s getting an STI.”

Felix hums thoughtfully. He’s honestly relieved that you aren’t letting Wooyoung fuck you raw, not because he’s worried about protection even though that is a concern, but moreso because it would imply you like him more or you’re more serious about him than you are about Felix. It’s a petty victory but a victory nonetheless. 

He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of having you close. It’s not a very ‘friends with benefits’ thing to do so he hopes you don’t mind, but you don’t move away from him which he takes as a good sign.

“Don’t go to his place tonight,” Felix murmurs into your hair. “Let- let me take care of you instead.”

You stiffen in his arms. “But... the bet.”

“I don’t fucking care,” he rasps. 

You turn a little more so that you can face him. “Felix, I’ll stay. We don’t have to have sex.”

“I want to,” he insists. “Unless you don’t?”

“No, I want to,” you assure him. 

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?”

“Positive. I was all over you not even ten minutes ago, remember?”

Felix grins. “I remember, I remember. But things can change, you know?”

“You’re sweet,” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth like you were rewarding him for it. 

“I try.”

“So how do you want me?” you ask. 

He takes a moment to think about it. “Um, want me on top?”

“Mhm that sounds good.”

“Yeah? You like just laying there and looking pretty? Like me taking control?”

The change in his demeanor makes you whimper, stroking Felix’s ego significantly. He pushes the blankets off of your bodies and rolls on top of you, taking your chin in his hand so that he can force you to look up at him. 

You arch to kiss him but he dodges you, smirking and still holding your jaw in place. You pout and try to turn your head to the side to break out of his grasp but he manages to keep his grip, surprising you both. Felix isn’t weak, but it’s usually pretty easy for you to overpower him. When you realize you can’t this time you stop trying, relaxing back into the mattress with a sigh of annoyance.

“Look at me.”

You do, eyes wide and eager. He spreads his fingers until his thumb is resting on one of your cheeks and the rest of his fingers are splayed out across the other, squeezing your face gently to get you to open your mouth. 

“C’mon, baby. A little wider.” You obey easily and Felix spits into your mouth. “Swallow. Good girl.”

He’s quick to undress you both so that he can get his head between your legs, needing to taste you after going so long without having you on his tongue. You’re wetter than he expected and he can’t stop himself from groaning at the sight. 

“God, baby, making a mess already. Gonna have to change my sheets after this.”

His comment makes you shrink into yourself in embarrassment. “You have no one to blame but yourself for that.”

Felix grins. “I know.” 

He makes you cum with his tongue and his fingers twice, feeling a little like he has something to prove after learning that he has competition. He wants to go for another, but his cock is aching at this point and he’s worried he’ll cum his pants before he gets to fuck you if he does. 

“Still okay?” he asks, checking in. 

“Perfect,” you respond. “You’re so good at that.”

Better than him? Felix wants to ask, but he doesn’t. He’s not entirely sure he wants the answer to the question, not entirely sure he’ll believe you if you tell him what he wants to hear. 

“Are you good to keep going?”

“Yes, please fuck me already.”

Felix chuckles. “Always so impatient.”

“You would be too if you knew how good your dick is.”

He curses, dick twitching. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“I try,” you parrot. 

Felix gets up on his knees and reaches over to his bedside table. He opens the first drawer and pulls out a condom, bringing the foil packet to his teeth to rip it open when you suddenly reach out to stop him. 

“Let me?” you ask. 

“Yeah, baby. Go ahead.”

He hands it to you and watches as you do the same thing he was about to. You take the condom out of the wrapper and hand the trash back to Felix. He scoffs but accepts it anyway and tosses it in the bin that was easily within your reach without complaint. 

You pull his boxers down just below his butt, just enough to get his cock out, and roll on the condom, jerking him a few times before you do. You’ve never done this for him before and it all feels very intimate. His breath catches in his throat when you touch him for the first time and he shudders. He makes himself stay very still as you work. One wrong move and he’ll cum all over your hand and ruin everything. 

He’s in awe of how careful you are with it. You gently guide the material down his length, making sure that the elastic doesn’t accidentally pinch him in the process.

“That feel okay?” you ask once it’s on all the way. 

“Mhm. Now come here.” 

He hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls, yanking you forward and making your head fall back onto the pillow. Once your body is flush with his, he positions himself and guides his cock inside of you, holding his breath yet again as his name falls from your lips in a strained whisper.

God, this was a mistake. He’s going to embarrass himself, isn’t he? Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did he let his jealousy color his judgment? It wasn’t even about the bet anymore. He already knew he wouldn’t last when he decided to fuck you. He wasn’t that naive. 

No, it was the fact that his pride was on the line and it’s taking all of his strength and willpower not to cum on the spot. It’s been weeks since he’s felt you, felt anything for that matter, obviously it was going to feel incredible. 

Felix always cums faster than he wants to when he’s with you. The (literal) grip your pussy has on him is ridiculous. Does Wooyoung have this problem? Honestly, probably. Felix likes to think that anyone in his position would struggle.

“Fuck, fuck, don’t move,” Felix pleads. “Just. Stay like that. One second.”

You start to nod before remembering what ‘don’t move’ means and then freeze in place, mild concern replacing the lust reflected in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he grunts out and closes his eyes, willing the feeling to pass. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m s-sure.”

He can tell you don’t believe him but you don’t press any further which he’s thankful for. You wait patiently for him to recompose himself and when he finally does, he asks you if he’s good to start moving. 

“Yeah, give it to me.”

“Careful what you ask for.”

You roll your eyes and wrap your legs around his waist, forcing him deeper inside of you with a smirk. Brat. 

“Behave,” he warns.

“Or what?” you challenge, raising your eyebrows. 

“Do you really want to go there?” 

You shrug indifferently. “Haven’t decided. Now, are you going to fuck me or what?”

He has to cover your mouth with his hand when he starts snapping his hips into yours, forgetting about how loud you get when you’re this worked up. 

“Baby, we’re not home alone, you have to be quiet,” he hisses, even though he’d much rather hear all your pretty sounds. 

“Feels too good,” you whine. “Fuck me harder, Lix! Please, harder...”

“Harder? Gonna break you in half if I go any harder.”

“Yes, yes, break me in half,” you sob. “It’s been so long. Missed this so much.”

“Will you be good and stay quiet for me if I give you what you want?”

You nod. “I can be good.”

“Are you lying?”

You hesitate. “Maybe.”

Felix laughs coldly and shakes his head in disbelief.

“But not because I don’t want to be good!” you protest. “I just can’t help it.”

“I know, baby,” he coos condescendingly. “Can’t even think straight when you’re so fucked out like this, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

The change in dynamic is almost comical. Mere minutes ago, Felix could barely move without cumming, too lost in the feeling of your hot cunt to concentrate. Now, you’re the one gasping for air and clawing at his back like an animal. Even Felix is surprised by the amount of self-control he’s exerting. He’s using it to his advantage though, taking the opportunity to thoroughly ruin you like you deserve. 

Even if you’re completely silent, the sounds coming from Felix’s room are obscene and anyone that walks by would immediately know what you were up to. Seungmin or Minho had probably already texted the groupchat announcing Felix’s loss but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make you feel better than Wooyoung ever could. 

“Does he fuck you like this? Huh?” Felix is wandering into dangerous territory, he knows, but he can’t help asking. He needs to know. “Does he make you feel this good? Cum this hard?”

“No!” you cry. “No, he doesn’t!”

“Be honest,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your throat. He only applies a little pressure, just enough to make you lightheaded the way you like. 

“I am! I’m being honest, I promise.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Lix, ‘m gonna... gonna cum,” you whine. 

“Who told you you could do that?” 

Your eyes get wide at his response, bottom lip trembling. “What?”

“Who gave you permission to cum?” Felix demands. He’s right there on the edge himself so he doesn’t really know why he’s dragging it out, but he just wants to see you squirm a little more. 

Thankfully, you’re quick to adapt to the new rules. “Can I? Can I please cum? I need it, baby. Please make me cum... please tell me I can. I’m not gonna be able to stop myself if you don’t...” 

The desperation in your eyes does something for him, and knowing he can’t hold back any longer, he relents. “Go ahead. Be a good girl and cum for me, baby.”

He’s only halfway through the sentence when your body locks up and you scream his name, gushing around his cock. If he’d waited any longer you wouldn’t have been able to obey him. He helps you ride it out by rubbing your clit and fucking you through it, letting his own orgasm wasm over him as you’re still clenching around him. 

“Oh god, I’m cumming. I’m cumming, fuck!” he groans, making a last ditch effort to stop it before it happens. But his efforts are in vain because it’s too late and he’s cumming into the condom so hard his vision whites out.

When he starts to come down, you’re still weakly rocking your hips into his, whimpering with every thrust. 

Felix winces at the oversensitivity but doesn’t stop you. With how long it’s been since he last got off it won’t be long until he’s hard again. 

“Insatiable tonight, aren’t you?” he muses. “Came three times and still want more.”

You frown and try to get yourself to stop without much success. It’s like your hips are moving on their own accord. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Want you to be satisfied.”

“God, you’re so good to me,” you moan and wrap your arms around Felix’s neck, making his chest feel tight all of the sudden. 

“It’s what you deserve.”

He doesn’t have enough energy to hold himself up above you properly so he has you roll over onto your side so that he can slip himself inside of you and you can fuck yourself back against him that way. 

While you’re doing that, Felix feels around the bed for his phone, grabbing it when he feels it under one of his pillows. 

Like he predicted, he doesn’t even have to announce his loss because his roommates did it for him. 

Min: Felix lost

Chris: what? how do you know?

Seungmin: we heard it happening :/

Min: and we’re traumatized

Innie: thank god i wasn’t home

Felix: you guys could have LEFT. you didn’t HAVE to listen!!!! btw changbin i need to talk to you

Min: oh no not his government name. someone’s in troubleeee

Binnie: um. 0.0 should i be worried 

Felix doesn’t respond right away, wanting to make Changbin sweat a little for the trouble he’d put him through. 

He puts his phone on his bedside table so he doesn’t lose it in his bedding again and turns his attention back to you. The oversensitivity had started to bleed together with pleasure and Felix could feel his cock getting stiff again. He groans and buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. 

There was still a lot to talk about with you. He needed to address his feelings, be honest about everything. But for now...

“Round two?”

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka @fairygemss @multistancheck @lady—-boner @stay-bi @compersian @raspbinniecreme @skzgallll @strawberriesandknives @laylasbunbunny @goddessofhiddenpleasures @brit97 @jonaticdragon @linobuns @vampcharxter

#no nut november #no nut november stray kids #nnn skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #felix smut #felix x reader #flashing tw #lee felix smut #lee yongbok smut #yongbok smut #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you

[formosusiniquis]

when you're fifteen

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise.

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Mike Wheeler WC: 4044 | Rated T | Tags/Themes: Good Babysitter Steve, Period Atypical Depictions of DnD, HoH!Steve, Disabled!Eddie Ao3

Eddie prided himself on his ability to manage a table. A forever DM, four years into a lifetime sentence, he can keep a story on track and, more importantly, keep tempers in check for hours at a time. 

He kept track of a thousand little details across notebooks, binders, and just trapped in his own brain. He knew everything about his NPCs, the world, his player’s characters, and the things that drove his players nuts. He had plans, backup plans, and vague ideas of shit he could do if things went completely and totally off the rails despite all of those plans. That was one of the things he held fast on his tongue the first time he failed senior year. Of course he didn’t pass. He’d taken on the mantle of Dungeon Master. He had to put together a story that took into account: Jeff’s high stakes backstory with the missing mother and bounty on his head, Gareth’s need to flirt with anything age appropriate that had a pulse, and Joey’s tactical mind when it comes to battle. Wasn’t it enough that he was going to class, he had to do shit at home about it too?

He didn’t like saying it. He liked to bitch about it a lot, actually. Eddie wasn’t really sure what he’d do with himself if he wasn’t The DM. It was like a core part of his identity.

It made the current situation he was in more world rocking than he really wanted to deal with.

He liked to think, if he couldn’t feel the remaining muscles in his side screaming in agony because he was sitting wrong -- or for too long or both -- and if his lower back wasn’t seizing and spasming for the same or maybe a brand new reason it had decided to come up with today, that he’d be able to manage this table just as well as he always had. Eight really wasn’t that different from three.

Except that combat is impossible to manage, each round took forever and that’s when everyone was paying attention. Except that there hasn’t been a satisfying story moment for Jeffrey the Jovial or Dustin’s Sir Rathington in the last four sessions. Except that Erica has been scribbling something in her notebook that probably wasn’t campaign notes since she hadn’t called him on the plot hole he caught session planning a month ago and hasn’t been able to fix -- and is more likely to have something to do with the way he noticed her looking at Uhura and Chapel when she was watching Star Trek reruns with Steve.

Except that Mike has been screaming at Dustin and Lucas for the better part of five minutes and Eddie really isn’t sure how to fix it.

“The plan is stupid. Did you even spend more than ten seconds thinking about it or did you decide that Will could just roll another character and we could save the resources.”

“Will could roll another character. It's not the first time he's rolled another character.” Lucas points out for what might be the third time, Eddie’s lost count.

“This whole thing is about resources, Mike.” Dustin snaps, “We’ll all be rolling new characters if we go into this stupid fucking fight while Gareth has no spell slots, Lucas is down to three arrows, Joey’s already used his second wind, and half the party is below half health.”

“It doesn’t matter, if we don’t go into the fight now Will is going to turn into some bloodsucking vampire spawn.”

Eddie knows this is the point that he should grab the reins again. He should prompt one of them to make a decision, or better yet, take the decision away from them entirely. But there’s a numbness in his thigh that has somehow spread to his mouth; it’s different from the pain the rest of his body is in, not really better or worse, and just as distracting. 

The rest of the table is quiet, boredom and annoyance plain on their faces. But they’ve also stopped looking to him to fix the problem. That’s the worst thing the Upside Down took from him, he thinks, even as his body is radiating pain from places he used to be able to forget he had.

“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Lucas points out. And it should be, but Lucas is a far better tactician than Eddie who already knows he won’t want to deal with the work it would take to do that well. “Y’know since you made all your weak spots pretty clear to Lord Ellias.”

“Or,” Dustin drawls out with a Harrington’s level of bitch and ire, “we could trust Eddie to turn this into a fucking story moment.”

“You guys are both so full of shit, just-” Mike has his nose curled and lip snarled, Eddie can feel the breeze of the blade swinging down to deliver the death blow to this campaign and adventuring party.

“Alright time to take a break.” Steve claps his hands, an angel come from on high to save Eddie. “Get up, get a snack, move your feet. Give my dining room some time to air out before it smells like nerd forever.”

Mike turns the full weight of his aggression on to Steve, who hopefully has a damage immunity or advantage on saves at the very least otherwise this is looking like a short talk, “We can't just take a break. Do you not get what the stakes are here? We've got to save-”

“Save someone who will still be in danger in twenty minutes.” Steve steamrolls over Mike’s argument with an unaffected ease. Eddie can feel the mood of the table lift just a bit, now that they’re about to be rescued.

“You just don't get it.”

“I get that it's pretend.” In a pre-Vencapocalypse world that would have been enough to get Eddie fighting on Little Wheeler’s side, but much as DnD is still his life. Fuck, it is all just pretend. “Go take a lap.”

“Ugh why do we even come over here. We could do this at my house without washed up jocks interrupting us.” Mike says but he gets up. Storming off to god knows where in the monstrosity of Steve’s house. Will, quiet as he always seems to get when he’s the center of one of these drag outs, trails off after Mike with an eye roll at the other two sophomores and an apologetic shrug for Steve.

And Eddie has his table again. Quiet and still, waiting for him to say something. Like there’s even anything to say when his very own Deus Ex Machina is leaving the room without so much as a backward glance at the poor schmucks he’s saved. “Well,” he says with a clap of his hands, “My blood sugar is dropping, so I’m going to shove as many of those cookies I smelled earlier into my mouth as I can in twenty minutes.” Because as much as they weren’t looking to him before, they need the DM to break the spell of the table. That’s how the whole thing goes.

And they scatter once it breaks. Eddie’s original Hellfire boys stay at the table, their ease at the Harrington house has been hardwon and the argument has rekindled something nerdy and skittish in them. Erica has headed off to the corner of the house Steve has let her claim as her own, nose still buried in her notebook. He doesn’t know where Lucas and Dustin are, but wherever they’ve gone they aren’t around to watch him struggle to pull himself out of his throne with his cane. He should just give in and let Steve raise the seat, half the problem is that it sits too low -- but knowing that and being willing to admit it at any point other than when he’s in PT levels of misery from pulling himself up are very different things.

Steve has his back to the door again, by the time Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. He has a bizarre semi-awareness of his surroundings that can be hard to predict. Sometimes it’s freaky how Steve can call out Dustin or Erica from a different room with an almost parental ‘eyes in the back of his head’ sixth sense. Other times his own soulmate can get the drop on him, managing to get her arms wrapped around his middle before he even realizes they’re in the same room.

It’s better to slam his cane against the floor a couple times. To let Steve feel the vibrations through the floorboards with his sock feet, that way nobody has to get hurt or feel guilty for doing the hurting.

Getting to see Steve’s grin bloom across his face as he flips that famous hair and catches sight of Eddie isn’t so bad either.

Next to Steve, it’s safe to prop his cane against the counter. He can rest his hips against the sure, solid surface and relax in the presence of his boyfriend while the blood returns to his limbs and a new kind of discomfort settles in. A hand, warm and sudsy finds the back of his neck. A strong thumb digging into a knot that had been there since at least last week with an erotic precision.

“You’ve got to stop letting them keep you in that chair for so long.”

"If we take breaks we'll just be here longer."

He shrugs, pulling his other hand from the dish water to pull Eddie into a gentle hold. "So be here longer."

"You'd get sick of the fighting. I'd get sick of the fighting." Actually it was probably better not to remind Steve of that. "You know I really did want one of those famous Stevie Henderson cookies."

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise. "I know the yelling is a lot, Sweetheart, I'm sorry. You don't have a migraine, do you? I can talk to him and make him chill out a bit." That last part is absolutely a lie; he doesn't think he could get Mike under control right now if he had a stun gun and half a pound of Argyle’s primo Cali weed.

Not that it matters Steve has on his scrunchy faced 'you're wrong about something,' look, Eddie just needs to give him the minute it'll take to get his thoughts together. "You know I love you right?"

“In this dimension and any others,” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles, feather soft, and runs a soothing hand through Eddie's hair the way he always does right before he says something atrociously bitchy. "I turn my hearing aids off the second you all start playing. If I had to listen to your game three different times, three different ways I'd drive my car into a portal."

He keeps going the way he does when he's afraid he's been too mean and wants to try to soften his edges for general consumption, like Eddie hadn't fallen in love with him the first time he called Dusin a butthead. "This way you and Dust can still use me as a sounding board for your plots and theories and I don't have to listen to my favorite nerds try to remember if 5+7 is 11 or 12."

“So what’s?”

“I’m worried about him!” Steve insists. Eddie might pride himself on his ability to handle a table, but he knows Steve is proud of his way with the kids. His relationship with each of them is rich and distinct, the way he handles each of them unique.

But it’s Mike.

Something must cross his face. He can only call it something, because he’s honestly not sure what emotion he’s feeling other than headache and how many cookies can I eat before they start tasting like nausea. But something else must have been there that causes Steve to cross his arms and glare.

“Yeah, of course, you’re worried about him. We are worried about him. Why are we worried about him, other than worried about what an asshole he’s been lately?”

That was not the right thing to say either, Eddie’s really rolling straight ones today. Steve’s glare shutters even further closed, and seriously it’s Mike. The same kid who called Steve a washed up jock not ten minutes ago. Who takes every single offered opportunity, and even some that he makes himself, to bitch and glare at Hawkins own #1 babysitter and monster hunter. 

“He’s a teenager with more trauma than a ‘Nam vet. But even if he weren’t he’s not an asshole for being barely fifteen and not knowing when to shut the hell up. Do you remember the kind of shit you were saying back then?”

Big brother Steve has successfully landed a critical hit. Eddie does remember the kind of shit he used to say. Just like he knows Steve remembers the kind of shit he used to say. And they both remember the shit that they used to say to one another. How Eddie called Steve a braindead future Reganite who wouldn’t know good taste if it spit in his mouth. How Steve had called Eddie a tryhard that was so desperate to be different because that was the only way he could hide having nothing to offer.

“So we’re worried?”

“I just don’t want him to say something he can’t walk back because he forgot the thing he’s getting upset over is pretend.” He runs a finger down Eddie’s splayed hands. A tickling sensation he can feel down the path it traces from the back of his palm and down his middle finger and, in a phantom mirror, down his spine. “I know you get into your characters, or whatever, I’m sure this is bringing up a lot of memories but he’s going to regret lashing out if it means he pushes away Dustin or Lucas or one of the other guys.”

“I notice you left out Will.”

“Yeah well, Will is more likely to get hurt by something he says when lashing out while they aren’t playing exposure therapy the game. I mean seriously, you had to kidnap him? That’s where your, ‘Stevie, baby, what should I do with them this week? They decided to do something stupid,’ bitching and moaning landed you?”

Eddie doesn’t even really have time to let himself feel the fluttery, squishy feeling he wants to feel -- cause Steve does actually listen when they’ve got their feet tangled on the sofa together, each working on their own things -- before it’s getting smacked by down by the paladin of his heart. “No, no, that isn’t where I landed. I had a perfectly acceptable diplomacy mission prepared, with a back up fight that they were supposed to run away from. What do you want me to do, Sunshine? I gotta give the game some stakes. It’s not exactly fun for Will if he knows he’s indestructible.”

Maybe, he thinks, he should just stop talking today. Just cancel the rest of the session entirely. Will gets carried off by the vampire spawn, half dead and unsaveable, the party on its last legs, unable to agree on a course of action; and actually that’s where we’re gonna end things come back next week and hope Steve even lets us in the house after the screaming we’ve all done. Why? Because he can feel every joint in his body and every one of them is in pain. Because there’s been the dull throb of a low grade headache beating an even pulse in his temples since he woke up this morning. But mostly because every time he opens his stupid fucking mouth to talk Steve stops touching him, and that sucks absolute balls.

“I maybe had an idea,” Steve says. His voice dips and slides while he keeps his hands small, quiet, and close to his chest. Something Robin told him, and he’s now noticing, means Steve has thought about this idea a lot, long enough that he’s convinced himself it’s bad. Eddie’s noticed that even when these ideas aren’t phrased well, they’re never bad.

“I know it’s like rule number one: don’t split the party,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes when he says it, an instinctive bit of brotherly mockery of Dustin, he would guess. “But what if you split the group a bit. Mike can go after Will, I’m sure Erica would be down to kill some vampires. She loves a chance to test drive her new feats and shit. Then Jeff and Dustin and whoever else can finish up that thing? With the missing girlfriend or whatever? And once that’s done they reunite to do whatever’s next on the list, save the kingdom.”

Eddie sits with that for a bit.

Impulsive is still his middle name, but sometime between being eaten alive by other dimensional hell creatures and getting a thousand and six tiny, itchy stitches removed he’s started giving things second and even third thoughts. Though in this case the second thoughts are less ‘is this a good idea’ and more ‘will Steve bend me over that solid oak dining table and critique my DM notes while he rails me.’

As his stomach swoops, his lower body twinges in a much less enjoyable way. Letting him know that now he’d been standing too long, or leaning against the counter the wrong way, or maybe something else entirely that made his legs tired of doing one of the few things they were made to do. 

Figures he finally lands a hot boyfriend and he's got chronic pain keeping him from getting his dick wet.

“If you’ve already got another idea-”

“No,” he rushes to assure Steve, who needs to stay confident in his own ideas for all kinds of reasons but right now mostly so he’ll be willing to play into this new fantasy of Eddie’s once his body is willing to cooperate with the standing and the bending it’s going to require. “No, it’s a fantastic idea. I’m plotting as we speak.” 

And that isn’t a total lie. Forever DM, he can think about all the fun ways the love of his life and reason he’s still living could degrade his current campaign -- An oath of vengeance paladin questing to save a lost love, isn’t that a little played out. Oh wow, rat swarms in a dungeon, they’re never gonna see that coming -- and figure out how to trick the group into thinking splitting the party was their own idea.

“How long,” he asks his resident child expert, “do you think it would take Will to roll up a new character?”

The smile that tips the corners of Steve’s face is the best part of his day. “Will always has an extra character rolled up with the rest of his stuff in his folder."

Things are slotting together in his head now, and as Steve's hands come around to do something magical in a spot on his back that probably has a name but mostly makes his legs feel like they should really belong to a baby deer.

“So Will…”

“Can convince Mike, and get a chance to try out the new thingy he built. He’s been waiting to talk to you about it.”

Eddie’s getting excited now, hands shaking in the good way. He doesn’t even care that his knee locks as he tries to bounce on his toes, just lets his hands get out the excited energy. “And the band can go do the story side plot shit I’ve been putting off…” 

“With Dustin,” Steve reminds, “cause he’ll want to go wherever there’s the best chance to stir up shit. You already know Erica is going to go where there’s a chance to prove she’s the best at fighting, Lucas too. Not the fighting thing. He’ll go to round out the group, and so his mom doesn’t have to worry about keeping track of one more thing on the family calendar.”

“You’re a genius, Sweetheart.” He snags Steve by the collar, ignoring his bitching that the two fingered pinch he’s got it in is going to stretch it out, and pulls him close. Pressing a kiss on the corner of his perfect boyfriend’s pleased little smile. “I gotta go talk to Will about this character.”

“Send Mike down when you do?”

He’s surprised when he gets no argument, barely gets acknowledgement, when he finds Will and Mike in the guest bathroom and separates them. Mike slips from the room with nothing but a backward glance at Will, who smiles supportively. Once he clears the room, it takes next to zero prompting to get Will to talk about his backup character. The ‘thingy’ he'd been working on a tricked out ranger build that's going to annihilate. 

There's something fresh, brightening, about Will's enthusiasm for the character that infects Eddie too. It gets him excited, for the first time since everyone arrived, to sit down around their over crowded table and play the hour of set up it's going to take to get the party ready to be split. 

And Will doesn't duck his head anymore when Eddie pushes at him and his DnD expertise, he just pushes back. Together they work out a couple tweaks that will make the build fit better in the party, flesh out a backstory that they can integrate even if it doesn't end up going anywhere, and it doesn't really feel like time passes at all. Until Sinclair is sticking his head through the door, surprise artfully hidden at who he finds, as he asks if they're ready to go.

Mike is conspicuously absent from the table when Eddie makes his way to it, and that won't do at all. He's not an asshole, he's just 15. Something like shame crawls up the back of his throat as Steve's reminder sounds in his head. He remembers 15 and the things he said but more than that, as he looks around the table, he remembers being the last to arrive at a hangout of people you're already worried hate you only to find them having a good time without you. 

Eddie has always prided himself on his ability to run a good session. "Stevie, gimme back our paladin, do I need to bring in a hostage negotiator."

A cookie held in one hand while the other smooths down the ruffled fringe of his bangs, Mike re-enters the dining room. The back of his Hellfire shirt is bunched and, if that weren't sign enough he'd been on the receiving end of a perfect Harrington hug, he looks settled. A smile tugging at his face that Eddie hadn't realized how much he missed, he looks boyish and happy and if Eddie didn't before he understands Steve's mission to keep these kids kids by whatever means necessary.

"Alright, now where were we?” He says once Mike is back in his seat beside Will, “Ah yes, you all watch in horror as the vampire spawn, hastened, dash away from you all with the unconscious, but still alive, body of Sir William the Wizened." Before anyone can restart the shouting, and he knows there will be shouting now that they’ve all had a chance to look over their notes and their character sheets, he barrels on. “From the hill behind you comes a shot. An arrow flies, thwip thwip. It slices between you all, before sinking into the back of one of the spawn at the back of the pack. He stumbles to the ground and the rest of the pack leave him to die.”

“We can interrogate him!” 

“Worry about who’s behind us, dude.”

He doesn’t let Mike or Dustin derail him, Eddie continues, “As you turn the hill behind you is nothing but mist. You all know the range of an elven bow, but whoever fired it is nowhere to be seen. You wait, breath held, as a figure all in black slowly approaches. You get the feeling you see him now only because he wants to be seen.

“Will, describe your new character for us!”

#steddie #steve and mike #mike wheeler #good babysitter steve harrington #hard of hearing steve harrington #disabled eddie munson #its the mikes not an asshole he's just a traumatized teenager fic #yknow the one no one was waiting for #for my tag readers will homebrewed a prototype gloomstalker #and the author borrowed the hardwon vampire arc from naddpod #my fic

[skipppppy]

CARMEN SANDIEGO CHARACTERS + MOVIES

Boo I felt like making headcanons again bc I spend more time wondering what these assholes do in their free time than I do on my job

CARMEN

Didn’t have access to movies growing up so Player, Zack, and Ivy have been catching her up on the most popular ones

HORRIBLE to watch with. Doesn’t really understand “suspension of disbelief” as a concept and will ask stupid questions the whole time. Player almost ended their friendship because she nitpicked Lord of the Rings for being “unrealistic”

Enjoys low stakes 2000s girl chick flicks like mean girls and legally blonde. She has enough stress in her life man she just wants to relax

HATES heist movies because of how innacurate they are. Team Red has taken to watching them JUST to hear her pick them apart

PLAYER

Sci-fi/fantasy junkie. Anything and everything that has aliens/magic and shitty practical effects from the 80’s/90’s he is all over

Has never said a single kind thing about the Star Wars franchise in his life. They are his favourite movies of all time

ADORES Edgar Wright and has slowly been converting Team Red to his movies. Zack loved Baby Driver. Ivy loved Shaun of the Dead. Shadowsan loved Hot Fuzz. He considers Scott Pilgrim the pinnacle of Canadian cinema

Cannot STAND the amount of remakes happening in Hollywood recently

ZACK

Canon enjoyer of blockbuster action movies. Everyone dreads the nights when he gets to choose a film bc his taste is so generic

Does not know what the Snyder cut is. Thank god

His only redeeming quality is a love of early dreamworks. Will not stop quoting Madnagascar

Has seen every Marvel movie and thinks all of them are good. Player has BEGGED him to watch better movies but he won’t. He’s the type to rag on Scorsese for being “boring”

Has seen Kevin Feige’s extended filmography. Does not know who that man is

IVY

Horror fanatic

Banned from choosing movies for film night after convincing them to watch her “favourite lesbian romcom” with her. That lesbian romcom was Saw

Ellen Ripley was not only her personal hero but also her gay awakening. The Xenomorph queen was her second gay awakening

Also loves period dramas. Enjoys the tiddies and knows she would look SO good in those fancy waistcoats the men wear

Watches old slashers with Carmen and laugh whenever someone dies in a stupid way

SHADOWSAN

Faculty considered movies “low brow” entertainment so he hasn’t seen a movie made before the year 2000

Loves a good mob flick. Got into Scorsese specifically because Zack hated him. Goodfellas is his favourite

Everyone assumes he enjoys samurai movies but he actually HATES them. Hideo would ramble about historical inaccuracies the whole way through and he’s still bored just thinking about it

Used to love Yakuza films back in the day but they were soured for him after actually living as one

Loved Knives Out, found Daniel Craig VERY attractive, and has since fallen down the James Bond rabbit hole

CHASE

The most pretentious film hack you’ve ever met in your life. He is taking you to a back alley screening of some arthouse eastern european gay porn on a first date and it will be the most profound thing you’ve ever seen in your life

Detective noir movies and cheesy black and white romances are his favourites. He likes falling asleep to them

He and Player both appreciate animation as a form of cinema, but while Player is referring to like. the Mario movie, Chase is talking about some 3 minute Russian stopmotion surrealist piece from 1951. He attends Annecy every year and has been banned from the Oscars due to threats of violence

He likes Poirot tho. Transmasc king

JULIA

If she has a few hours to herself she’d rather watch a documentary than go to a movie theatre, but she loves historical dramas

Enjoys biopics but thinks it’s stupid to make them for people who are alive

Likes watching movies for the sake of trash talking them, so she is the only person who can tolerate sitting through one with Carmen

LOVES Wes Anderson though. Chase got her into his stuff and the symmetry scratches an itch in her brain. But don’t tell him that

Also enjoys period dramas for the tiddies

CHIEF

Shitty cop movie enjoyer. The kind of person who insists that Die Hard is her favourite christmas movie

LOVES heist movies because of how inaccurate they are. Will mentally nitpick whatever secret service is going after them and be like “ACME wouldn’t do that lol”

She’s semi aware that she’s the antoagonist in Carmen’s own heist narrative so she’s started having fun with it

Closet lover of b-tier comedy movies. Like the ones with Adam Sandler and Kevin Hart on the cover

Does not enjoy watching movies socially. That is quality time for her and her cat. She does not have to shush Commander

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #player cs #zack and ivy #shadowsan #chase devineaux #julia argent #tamara fraser #chief cs

[compacflt]

if you're open to angsty prompts - tgm mission goes bad and Ice gets to accept Bradley and Mav's flags at their funerals? (but only if you're feeling angsty. if not, feel free to ignore!)

San Diego, California. November 2016.

It should not be surprising that the complicated politics of a funeral like Mitchell’s supersede even the national grief of losing him, but of course it is. The Defense Department and the new administration (loudly Tweeting out of their asses because the President-Elect hasn’t yet been sworn in) want to hold it in Arlington. Do it in D.C., show American unity, show how proud we are of our fallen aviator, who sacrificed himself for America’s national interests, bury him in Virginian soil next to Kennedy’s eternal flame… It’s not a terrible idea, geopolitically speaking. But the Republican leadership of the state of Texas wants a piece of him, too. Why not bury him in the National Cemetery in Dallas? That’s where he’s from. Lay him to rest in the soil of his forefathers, as all good men should be. But the entire Pacific Fleet of the United States Navy, it is argued by people who aren’t Kazansky, also has a stake in this. Bury him at sea. He gave his life for the Navy. This is how it ought to be. Bury both Mitchell and Bradshaw at sea the way we buried other American Navy heroes like John Paul Jones. (When he hears this argument, Kazansky also remembers that we buried Osama bin Laden at sea, too.)

The whole political clusterfuck is put to rest at last in mid-November, when someone bothers to ask Kazansky what he thinks, and Kazansky says, “I’ll remind you that there’s absolutely nothing left of him to bury. But Mitchell lived in California for the last thirty years of his life. He told me he’d want to be buried in San Diego. I don’t really care where you put him. But that’s what he said he wanted.” And after Pacific Command leadership hears this and communicates it to the White House, everyone all of a sudden bends over backwards to organize a joint funeral in San Diego, where Bradshaw’s parents are buried, anyway. Maybe it really is fitting. Okay.

It’s a funny thing, ritual. The military’s full of it. A funeral: that’s a ritual. So, too, is promotion, retirement, commissioning in the first place. So, too, is the everyday ritual of getting dressed, donning battle gear, which today is dress blues, the way it was the day Mitchell died. Medals instead of ribbons. The President posthumously gave Bradshaw and Mitchell Medals of Honor. Their bodies would be wearing them, if there were bodies to bury. The President prehumously gave Kazansky and Seresin Medals of Honor as well. Kazansky’s is sitting around his throat like a noose. He feels like nothing but a body himself, no soul, already passed-on. They’ll lower Mitchell’s empty casket into the ground this afternoon and Kazansky’s already thinking about climbing inside it before they do. He’s not so un-self-aware that he can’t see the absurdity in that thought. But he’s also not so self-aware that he isn’t having that thought.

It’s the highest-profile funeral Kazansky’s attended in a few years. The Secretary of State is here. The Secretary of Defense is here. The Secretary of the Navy is here. The Vice President is here. He, too, has only recently lost a son; he, too, has already lost someone he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. They don’t talk, but when they shake hands, it feels like stronger solidarity than all the Sorry for your losses Kazansky’s received over the past couple weeks. Everyone here knows about him and Mitchell, in a way that had once been Kazansky’s worst nightmare; now, his actual worst nightmare having been realized, he can’t bring himself to care, and no one’s making a big deal out of it. When they say, Sorry for your loss, they don’t mean in the “loss of two highly strategic assets for the U.S. Pacific Fleet” sense, they mean in the “loss of the only two people you cared about more than your career” sense. Sorry for your loss. It’s not so bad. And because everyone knows, in a way that had once been Kazansky’s worst nightmare, no one bats an eye when Kazansky realizes his actual worst nightmare and accepts Mitchell’s folded flag. No, they weren’t legal family. But everyone knows they were close enough.

He tacks his own Naval aviator wings onto Mitchell’s empty casket. Twenty-one guns fire. He salutes. They lower two empty caskets into the ground and he’s still standing. It doesn’t really mean anything. It’s not really a goodbye, because neither Mitchell nor Bradshaw are actually inside. He watches Seresin struggle not to cry. He stands before a few hundred people and makes a short boring speech about service and sacrifice that he did not write. This is all political. This is all just for show. Most ritual usually is. So who gives a fuck.

He disappears before anyone can pin him down to apologize again and again, but finds that his intended hideout location has already been claimed: by the time he makes it to Goose’s grave, Seresin’s already standing there alone, his hands in his blues pockets, his cap tucked under his arm.

“I just,” says Seresin stupidly. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face is sallow. They’ve never really spoken, the two of them, but Kazansky’s heard the rumors about him and Bradshaw. And he’s sure Seresin’s heard the rumors about him and Mitchell. They’re in the same leaking boat, here. “Bradley talked about him all the time.” Gestures down to the grave. “And about you. And about Maverick.”

Kazansky says, “Would you want to have lunch with me? I’m not very hungry. But maybe we can talk.” He’s trying. Too little too late, but he’s trying.

He exchanges his jingling blues coat for a regular suit jacket in the armored Suburban. Takes the Medal of Honor off as he does. Seresin, still only a lieutenant, doesn’t have the luxury of a general staff who will carry around a wardrobe change on his behalf. He’s gonna have to make do with his dress blues. He’s nervously fingering the Medal of Honor around his neck, and will continue to do so long after they’ve taken their seats in a restaurant downtown where Kazansky used to take Mitchell out for dinner, not so long ago. He can hear his chief flag aide kindly whispering to their waiter: Somewhere in the back. Where they won’t be bothered. Everyone’s being so kind.

“I could kill him,” Seresin says after a few minutes.

“Who?” says Kazansky incuriously. He’s been running his fingers over the condensation on his water glass. Now his fingertips are wet. Actions and consequences.

“Cyclone. He’s the one who refused to send me. And he didn’t launch search-and-rescue, either.”

Kazansky blinks, then looks down at his menu. “No, son, that was me.”

Seresin’s Then I could kill you goes unsaid. It’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Kazansky’s read through the menu—every word—twice. Then Seresin says, “Why?”

“You would’ve searched for the rest of your life and rescued nothing, and blamed yourself.”

“I blame myself for not going anyway. For not disobeying orders. —Maverick would’ve gone.”

Yeah, he probably would have. Kazansky remembers, in a split second, a story Mitchell had only told him a few years ago, lying next to him in the dark, a little tipsy after dinner and touchy-feely as he always was lying next to Kazansky in the dark: I don’t think I ever told you the story of how I saved Cougar’s life. His warm hands, gentle and unhurried, sliding up and down Kazansky’s abdomen: it’s so funny the details you choose to overlook at the time, and only remember when you lose them. / Well, I never wanted to ask. You hate telling those stories, I thought, Kazansky had said. Because it was true. At any party, Mitchell could tell the stories of how he saved Cougar’s life and how he ejected out of a flat spin at TOPGUN and how he shot down three MiGs not two weeks later—but he’d always have nightmares about all of it the night after. He hated telling those stories. He’d only do it if people asked, so Kazansky never asked. / You’re here in bed next to me, Mitchell said, so I’ll sleep just fine. Let me be a hero for you for once. —It was the day I saw that first Soviet MiG up close. Remember that? Negative four-G inverted dive? That was real, baby. Scared the shit outta Cougar. Messed him up bad. I mean, he thought we were all cooked. He wasn’t gonna land, I mean. Or if he tried, he was gonna plow right into the side of the boat. Couldn’t see straight. You ever been so scared you couldn’t see straight? He was dipping his wings, power too low, basically drunk-driving his Tomcat, I mean, it was freaky. So I touch-and-goed my F-14. / Against orders, surely, Kazansky’d said. / Oh, of course. You’ve met me, haven’t you? Of course, against orders. We were both outta gas. But I took off again and circled around to find him, and guided him in, you know, level off, call the ball, there you go, Coug, you got it, you got it. Don’t know if he ever told you this—he probably did ten million dollars of damage to that plane. Fucked up the landing gear and snapped off his tailhook and ground up into the fuselage. / But he lived. / But he lived, Mitchell said, and that’s how I got sent to TOPGUN. And that’s—with a soft sweet kiss—how I met you. / My hero, Kazansky’d said.

“Yeah,” he says noncommittally. “Maverick would’ve gone. —But he’d have searched for the rest of his life and rescued nothing, and blamed himself.”

Seresin says, “Is that what happened with him and Bradley’s dad? Is that what happened with Goose?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for another while. The waiter comes by to take their orders. Kazansky’s not hungry and orders a beer. Seresin’s starving and orders a burger and a side of onion rings and a glass of wine.

“Can I ask you a question?” Seresin says after another few minutes. “Are you, like, a coward, or something? —That speech you gave was pretty neutered, sir. You loved him and you can’t even say it at his funeral?”

It’s a stupid, immature question. The Navy doesn’t deserve to hear that out loud. Nor does Mitchell’s empty casket. Only Mitchell did, and too late now. Kazansky shrugs. “If I were a brave man,” he says, “do you think I would have let him go?”

“I’d like to think I’m a brave man,” says Seresin. “I let Bradley go because I trusted him to come back. —Honestly, I’m kind of fucking pissed about it, to be honest. Sorry for the language. But it’s the truth. The night after he died, I mean, I went apeshit. Tore up our photos, punched the wall, cried myself fucking dry, that kind of stupid shit. I was so mad. I trusted him to come back, and he didn’t. Thought he was a good pilot. —Sorry. Is that sacrilegious to say? We aren’t supposed to speak ill of the dead, are we? I don’t care. I’m still mad about it. I know I shouldn’t be. But it’s the only thing I know how to be, is angry. Does that make sense?”

“It makes sense.”

“Are you angry?”

“Yes, but not at Mitchell. You know that saying, we have old pilots and bold pilots, but never old, bold pilots? Maverick was an old, bold pilot. We both knew he was living on borrowed time. That’s how he lived.”

“Pretty fucking defeatist.”

Kazansky shrugs again. He is a man defeated.

Seresin says, “Are you gonna be okay?” Then, in the resulting silence, he says, “Sorry, stupid question. Sorry. It’s just—“ He hesitates. It’s only now that Kazansky sees the dark circles under his eyes, the tremor in his hands, the desperation in the stiffness of his shoulders. “Look, it’s just that I don’t think I’m going to be okay, and you’re a lot older than me, and I keep thinking you have, like, the answer. Some wisdom, you know what I mean? How am I gonna be okay? You’re the Commander of the Pacific Fleet of the United States Navy. Aren’t you supposed to know what to do? Aren’t you supposed to give me orders? What do I do?”

“If I were a wise man,” Kazansky says, “do you think I would have let him go?”

Seresin is quiet. His food comes. He immediately launches into it, eats ravenously and silently for a few minutes.

Then he says, around a bite of his burger, “You know, I was gonna ask him to marry me.”

“Bradshaw?”

“Who else?”

Kazansky blinks. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah,” says Seresin. “You know, fucking everyone is.”

“Lunch is on me,” Kazansky says.

Home, afterwards, is silent and lonely. Of course it is: Mitchell’s not here. Of course. Kazansky’s settling into it. Life so rarely gives you a choice, when assigning you ritual, routine. There’s still legal paperwork to fill out. That he can do. And there are still letters of condolences to respond to: Thank you for your kind words. Maverick was… figuring out how to end that sentence will give Kazansky a way to occupy his time for a while. And there are flowers to throw out—no one wants flowers after someone they care about has died. They stink up the house and permeate everything with their reminder of grief and mourning, and you’ll find the dried petals even months later and grieve and mourn all over again. Kazansky throws them all out before they can start shedding. There are friends to call and thank for coming. “I don’t know what to say,” Slider says over the phone. / “Yeah, neither do I,” says Kazansky, so they sit in silence on the line together for a while, and that’s pretty nice. / “He was the best of us,” says Sundown, and Kazansky thinks about what Seresin had said a few hours ago: Thought he was a good pilot. It’s a cruel thought, but sometimes the only thing you can be is angry: if Maverick really was the best of us, he should’ve come home. / “You know, I’m still in his debt,” says Cougar. “He saved my life thirty years ago. It’s so fucking stupid, you know what I mean, this idea that I should’ve saved his in return? Feels like it’s my fault that he died. Maybe I’m too superstitious. I’m indebted to a fucking dead man. I’ll never be able to pay him back. —Sorry, Ice. Sorry. I don’t mean to make it all about me. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay,” says Kazansky. “Don’t, um—look, I’m just curious. How did he save your life? Would you mind telling me?”

“I don’t remember too much of it, to be honest,” says Cougar. “That’s why I quit, isn’t it? Something wrong with me. I was so scared I couldn’t see straight. You ever been so scared you couldn’t see straight? I wouldn’t have landed if it weren’t for Maverick. Or, if I had tried, I think I would’ve plowed into the side of the boat. Dipping my wings, power too low, basically drunk-driving my Tomcat. There was something wrong with me. You know, they could’ve kicked him out for that stunt, touch-and-going his F-14 like that. We were both outta gas. It could’ve killed him, too. But he guided me in. Saved my life. —I don’t think I ever told you this. I probably did about ten million dollars of damage to that plane. Fucked up my landing gear, snapped off my tailhook, ground up into the fuselage.”

“But you lived.”

“But I lived,” says Cougar. “And I came home to my family. Only ‘cause of him.”

“He was a hero.”

“He was a fucking hero,” says Cougar. “To the very fucking last. Sorry you had to go and fall in love with him. They advise against that, don’t they?”

“What, falling in love with heroes?”

“Yeah. —Sorry. Not funny.”

“A little funny. In a cosmic sense. Means it’s my own fault.”

Cougar pauses. “It wasn’t your fault, Ice.”

There’s still a Fleet to be run. Still work to be done. Kazansky can do that. People will laud him for the rest of his life for his professionalism under duress. He works when he should be grieving. Work is a ritual, too. Take some time off, sir, one of the Chief of Naval Operations’ aides had begged him. You need time. But he can’t. Only thing to do is keep working until all the work is done. The geopolitical situation after the mission, which was still classified as a success, is quite bad. They knew it would be. A bombing mission on Russian territory right near the American general election? Yeah, that’s bad. Russia’s Foreign Ministry has openly stated that if they find any remains of Mitchell and Bradshaw’s bodies, they will not extradite them home to the United States. I’m sorry you had to hear that, the President e-mailed him personally. But it’s fine. Kazansky likes the chaos. Means there’s work to do. He works.

When he can’t work anymore, because he’s done all the work that needs to be done, he takes care of another ritual. Life assigned him this one without giving him a choice, too. It’s past 2200. He turns no light on. He’s not sleeping in their bed, which is pretty cliché, and maybe he should be stronger than that, but you do have to make some concessions to your own grief when something like this happens. But he’s strong enough to sit on the side of it that had been his and open his phone and dial the number of his only favorited contact and hold the phone to his ear. It gives the dial tone five times, as is routine, and then Mitchell picks up the phone, as is routine. Hi! Captain Pete Mitchell here! Unfortunately I’m not able to come to the phone right now. Leave a message, or if it’s Navy business, you can shoot me an e-mail at C. A. P. T. dot P. dot Mitchell at navy dot mil. Thanks! Bye. Maybe Mitchell’s just busy. Maybe Mitchell’s somewhere without cell service. Maybe Mitchell’s just out flying.

Kazansky considers leaving a message, as is routine; realizes he doesn’t know what to say, as is routine; and hangs up, as is routine.

He takes all his medals off the rack of his double-breasted blues coat, packs them back into their clear-plastic-velvet boxes. He considers, momentarily, throwing out the Medal of Honor with the flowers. But he’s too self-aware to do that. He hangs up his coat on its felt-lined hanger, steams it straight, does the same to his slacks, slips the ensemble back into its garment bag, hangs it up next to Mitchell’s in their closet. This is a ritual, too. He takes a shower. He eats something. He answers a couple e-mails. He climbs into a bed that is not his own. He holds one of Mitchell’s college sweatshirts over his face and breathes in. He takes stock. His fuel gauge is reading pretty low. He knows his wings are dipping. If he really thought about it, he’d say he’s so scared he can’t see straight. And the truth is—he’s not so un-self-aware that he can’t recognize this, however numbly—Maverick’s not coming home to guide him in to land. Maverick’s never coming home again. Thought you were a good pilot. He closes his eyes. He tries to sleep.

#major character death #death #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun maverick #top gun #icemav #top gun fanfiction #asks #sorry to start out my prompt fills with maybe the most soulcrushing thing ive ever written #ngl writing this yesterday fucked me up hard #sorry to sneak more pro-brandon propaganda in here but the parallel was too good to pass up #rip beau biden i guess #forgot to tag: #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #hangster #soundtrack for this one is Judy collins’ send in the clowns

[obstinaterixatrix]

Do u know any good mob psycho 100 fanfics?? Or authors??

well obviously my sister but I’m guessing you’re the same anon so 1) you already know her fics 2) you want different recs from what’s on her list (some of them being fics I rec’d to her lol). recs will skew heavily seri/rei and I’m just going through my bookmarks so it’s gonna be most recently read to oldest read. also seconding sister’s recs of bobmoss and crookedturtle. but I’ll add a fic from each anyway because I already wrote something for one while I was drafting this (oops)

Recollection by CowardlyBean

This is the journal of missing 31 year old Reigen Arataka, distributed with permission from friends and family. The version presented in this document has been kindly edited with added commentary by a loyal customer of his. -Editor’s Note

gen, experimental and in progress at 14k so definitely deserves more love than it’s getting. inspired by house of leaves; as the summary says, it’s some rando writing annotations about reigen’s journal, but Something Weird Is Going On. the 4th chapter updated so I actually need to catch up. also, sister rec’d this fic to me

Like Acid Reflux, or Love by partingxshot

Dating Reigen is like dating a single dad—only with more children, weirder scruples, and an extreme ruthlessness vis-à-vis group takoyaki discounts. He's not hot enough for this.

OR: "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates but with fifteen million teenagers.

OR: Outsider POV exploring Reigen’s dedication to his gaggle of bizarre children through an ill-fated dating attempt.

OR: Serizawa gets bruxism.

gen(/pre-relationship seri/rei), oneshot, 7k. oc/reigen breakup lmao. extremely funny concept, extremely good execution

Dream Dial by Alakazamboni

For the better part of nine years, Arataka has proudly worked in customer service at a behemoth of a company. At least, that's what he remembers, but a strange illness and a mysterious caller keeps trying to convince him otherwise. It doesn't help that this caller has the power to distort reality.

seri/rei, in progress, 16k. great uncanny atmosphere, and also reigen is trapped in time prison as a miserable office worker. hasn’t been updated for a while but read it anyway, the stoping point is fine

What We Make by crookedturtle

Reigen and Tome are kidnapped from the Spirits and Such office to be used as leverage against Mob. They have two goals: to contact the outside world, and keep each other safe. In doing so they engage in a dangerous game of lies and manipulation with their captors—a game with potentially deadly consequences.

gen (bg seri/rei), complete, 36k. Good for whump and high stakes interpersonal maneuvering & drama. I liked how the story extends beyond rescue and goes into how everyone navigates the fallout

Man's Best Friend by bobmoss

A cursed dog gets left at Spirits and Such. Anyone who pets it is doomed to die a horrible death.

Reigen, of course, pets it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. funny and cute and sweet :) there’s a very charming tentative & tender vibe

heart line by ruthwrites

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

seri/rei, oneshot, 6k. getting together fluff, a fun light read that also highlights serizawa’s insecurities—the internal narration has good character voice

If you won't believe me when I say it, believe me when I don't by deathdefied

Two years after Reigen invited Serizawa to work for him, he still can't quite categorize his feelings for his coworker. Instead of actually dealing with those feelings like an adult and talking to his friend, he decided to get really paranoid and overthink everything Serizawa does.

seri/rei, complete, 26k. reigen drives himself nuts lmao

Obvious by skeilig

Tome’s perspective on Reigen and Serizawa’s developing relationship.

gen (but about seri/rei), oneshot, 3k. I like outsider perspective getting together fics, especially when the perspective character is like ‘I’m actually not invested in this except when it affects me directly’

Cover Me by flecksofpoppy

Reigen’s shadow seems longer as the days move forward, more solitary. The cuts on his face heal and the ache in his bones go away, but a new sting replaces it. It’s loneliness, the thing he had managed to avoid ever since a primary school-aged kid who could make cups float stumbled into his office so many years ago.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. getting together fic that shows off a little of reigen’s gloomier side, it’s cute

loved you just a little too much by shcherbatskayas

You learn how to let go.

(It doesn't come naturally.)

gen(ish), oneshot, 2k. 2nd person character study of serizawa’s relationship with touichiro, I liked the ambivalence; effectively captures development over time with a relatively short wordcount.

offering genuine help with genuine results by suitablyskippy

“The curse was pretty clear on me not telling lies,” concedes Reigen. “It was pretty clear on me telling the truth. But,” as he lifts one finger, already sliding into the same educational tone he generally uses for imparting wisdom to Mob about life and love and the overall holistic benefits of making sure he’s always available for unexpected overtime work on weekends, “telling the truth isn’t necessarily the same as being honest, is it?”

“You’re the professional liar,” says Dimple. “You tell me.”

(Being cursed to only tell the truth and being cursed with Dimple as an employee are pretty much equally bad, as far as Reigen's stress levels are concerned.)

gen, oneshot, 2k. the tags include friends with no benefits whatsoever, which is very apt. Very funny to have reigen and dimple be petty and shady

a slightly more miraculous miracle by suitablyskippy

“Rumour has it that something impossible’s happened. Something that could never have happened. That shouldn’t have been able to happen.” In a single slick move Mezato produces a tiny voice recorder from an inside pocket, flips it open and active, and holds it up before Mob’s mouth to ask him, in a tone of devastating intensity: “Do you know anything about… a miracle, Mob-kun?”

Mob doesn’t hesitate. “We had maths homework to hand in,” he says. “But now we don’t have to. We don’t even have to go to the lesson.”

(The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Salt Middle School has been closed by an unexplained miracle, and the only thing wrong in Spice City is the fact that nothing is even slightly wrong at all.)

teru/mob, incomplete, 55k. for the most part I haven’t been repeating authors on this list, but listen. listen to me. I need you to listen. it is extremely unlikely for this fic to ever be completed. but hark, lest this sad probability turn you away and leave you dispassionately scrolling to the next fic, I need you (you specifically) to know that if I were in the same room as you, I would be wrestling the phone/mouse/trackpad/touchscreen/etc from your hands and furiously clicking the link. when I bookmarked this fic in 2017 I described it as having “some breathtakingly sensical prose and the funniest misunderstandings I’ve ever read”. trust me from seven years ago. open your heart.

skylight by inexhaustible

unconnected snapshots in what might, in some worlds, be something a little like recovery.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. character study that nails the tension of an escalating romantic atmosphere.

come on, come on, come over (take it off your shoulder) by mortarsmayfall

Reigen's free hand cradles Serizawa's head, curled under his ear just so to turn it for a better angle. He feels his pulse pound under Reigen's fingers, shivers just the slightest bit. If Reigen notices, he doesn't say anything about it.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. when I first read this I saved it as a private bookmark because I was so embarrassed by the sheer intimacy of haircuts with severely unresolved sexual tension. I’m guessing this was written after studio bones gave us reigen cutting serizawa’s hair. crumbs no more; for once we had a feast to enjoy. short & sweet getting together fic

Off-White by reigreitz

Some habits are tells.

seri/rei, oneshot, 1k. snapshots of pre-relationship and established relationship scenes, I’m quite fond of it. on my first reading I’m pretty sure I remember not paying attention to the habit piece at all (even with it being right in the summary) so at the last scene I was hit by the double whammy of ‘oh so that was what serizawa was reacting to’ and ‘AW… THAT’S SWEET…’; I think the fic does a great job of hiding/not acknowledging certain things the perspective character knows and is reacting to, which makes it fun to reread and pinpoint what exactly serizawa’s previously more opaque train of thought was. like, it’s the same stuff, but you get to read into more nuance.

the seven stages of falling in love by reigen arataka by matsunoble

You suppose one of the weirdest times to realize you've fallen deeply and irrevocably in love is when it's fuck o'clock in the morning and you're blearily checking your fridge for leftover curry.

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. I was quite taken by the mundane (and sometimes unappealing) descriptions of love, and I like when serizawa has the upper hand

Mr. Psychic by beefstatic

Looks like trouble in Spice City...

seri/rei, oneshot, 4k. Serizawa Acts Like An Intimidating Bodyguard During Tense/Shady Situations. fun emphasis on that potential aspect of his character, I like how it’s done.

Late by hamlingo

For the first few days after hiring Serizawa, Reigen couldn’t help but be alarmed when the door opened at eight o’clock sharp in the mornings. He got used to it eventually, and in a month’s time he was more surprised when the door didn’t creak open right on time.

This was one of those mornings.

seri/rei, oneshot, 2k. this is actually among the first seri/rei fics I bookmarked so I can say with relative certainty that on may 20th 2017 I decided that maybe seri/rei was not just a joke of me indulging my own spurious unreasonable whims. fun character study and has that enjoyable tension of pleasant pre-relationship uncertainty.

Quiet Talks by krypkaktus

At some point, Reigen cutting his hair twice a month had turned into a mutual habit.

seri/rei, oneshot, 600 words. another charming snapshot of pre-relationship uncertainty, pleasantly embarrassing unresolved romantic tension.

walk in by ruthwrites

It was then he realized that the reason Reigen and Serizawa were standing so close was because they were kissing.

Mob was not really sure what to do with that information.

(or: mob leaves something at the office, comes back, and walks into something he wasn't supposed to)

seri/rei, oneshot, 3k. an extremely popular fic for extremely valid reasons, this is a shining example of the outsider POV shipfic where the perspective character is like. I’m 14 and did not want to see you guys kissing. and the couple is like. we also did not want you to see us kissing, this is excruciatingly awkward.

tomorrow isn't always another day by suitablyskippy

It’s like Reigen’s been waiting for the question. He stops dead on the pavement, grips Mob by the shoulders, and stares down into his eyes with an expression as haunted as though every ghost the pair of them has ever exorcised has taken up residence behind it. “Mob,” he says. “Mob,” he says again. “Tell me, Mob. Look at me and tell me. Tell me truthfully. Do I look cursed to you?”

Mob looks at him, and tells him truthfully. “No.”

“Well, you didn’t look very long,” says Reigen. “Let’s just stand here for a moment, like so, and you can have another look, a nice long look, and really think about it...”

(There's nothing strange about being called back to exorcise the same haunted photocopier six days in a row. It must just be a very haunted photocopier.)

gen, oneshot, 18k. I didn’t mean to rec the same author three (3) times but this is also one of my top faves. extremely funny time prison where nobody is on the same page ever.

space voyage by Anonymous

Tome Kurata is slightly famous—or notorious, more like—for being... a weirdo, to put it simply. She's definitely a person of interest. Just not exactly in a newsworthy way, which is obviously the only way that matters.

mezato/tome, oneshot, 1k. charming pre-relationship contention, they’re the same type of self-absorbed and tunnel vision (affectionate)

I was thinking of not writing up recs for sister’s fics but since one author got three (3) fics on the list I’m gonna also put 3 of my fave fics of sister’s

Reigen's Comprehensive Fool-Proof Guide on How Not To Be Next Door Neighbors With Your Employee (because that'd just be creepy) by MalkyTop

Reigen hires Serizawa and they somehow end up as roommates.

seri/rei, complete, 17k. a fic sister wrote for ✨ME✨ that shows off reigen’s neuroticism and his decidedly not-normal attempts to come across as Extremely Normal, The Most Normal Man Alive. there are so many comedic setups and payoffs. there are so many shenanigans. reigen gets frog-boiled into romance. actually, I drop that term a lot but I’m not sure it’s a common enough to intuitively understand. it refers to the boiling frog metaphor

If At First You Don't Succeed, Find a Loophole by MalkyTop

Reigen keeps dying; Serizawa keeps trying to save him.

seri/rei, complete, 18k. sister was insane for this because she trapped all of her readers AND herself in time prison by releasing one chapter a day. it was really funny to witness because I was the only person not in time prison by virtue of editing privilege. while we were watching mondays: see you next week (an office time loop movie), sister was saying she was impressed at how effective/efficient the movie was at picking which scenes to repeat. this is to say, as someone who notices these details, sister was very intentional about when things changed and how things changed from the perspective of a character completely unaware of time prison. also, the emotional momentum is extremely good, I loved reading serizawa’s increasing desperation from reigen’s context-less perspective.

in absentia* by MalkyTop

After what was supposed to be a routine exorcism, Reigen wakes up in the wrong body.

serirei, complete, 26k. slowburn bodyswap with mystery and intrigue. a solid casefic! I can be biased and right. there are metanarrative elements that I find fun and that, in my opinion, highlights how sister did in fact get a degree in philosophy. there’s also some fun subtle and messy characterization notes, like when serizawa asks reigen not to cook for him. it’s hard to talk about what I like about this fic without giving away a lot of specifics, so go read it.

#orlbs #mp100lb #mob psycho 100 #long post #…I SPENT SO LONG ON THIS AND FORMATTED IT ALL ON MY PHONE SO EVERYBODY CLAP AND CHEER #why did I do it on my phone? bc I am lying in bed and didnt want to move #why did I spend so much time? bc I got carried away #why am I posting at 4am? stupidity. #why isn’t this under a readmore? because fic recs deserve to be seen. I’m adding an element of hostility for spice. #fanfiction #ask #anonymous

[vestaclinicpod]

Audio Drama Sunday - 14th Jan ✨

Oh, friends, I have had a shit week but these listens have definitely gone some way to making it bearable. Happy Audio Drama Sunday 🎧

👻 @tellnotalespod oh how I love you and how I have missed you!! It seems that some time has passed since the end of S1 and Leo has OBVIOUSLY made absolutely stellar choices in the meantime. Nothing is better for one’s mental health than isolation and trusting the slimiest creature on god’s green earth. 

🦀 @thesiltverses (37) my beloved Silt Verses have returned with a frankly exceptional HOUR long episode filled with so many things to scream about that I don’t even know where to start. Val’s revelation that extreme power can also be used to bring people joy is VERY interesting indeed. They were never going to be able to control her, but I doubt it even more now. And PAIGE stepping up!! Part of me really wants a Val vs Paige stand off but most of me wants to protect Paige at all costs… I am loving the music choices this episode and the scene with the telephone calls was so good! Also, PLEASE stop foreshadowing Carpenter’s death, I am going ‘lalalalalala I can’t hear you!!’

🧳 I listened to episode 8 of Travelling Light by @monstrousproductions after a night shift and the hazy tiredness only served to make it even more transcendentally beautiful. I adore the blossoming friendships aboard the Tola, especially between the Traveller and Óli 😭🌌

👁️ @malevolentcast (39) I love it when you can *feel* that an episode is gearing up to a season finale, a few little loose strands tied up here and there but one BIG problem looming for the finale. I NEED to remember to not listen to this show when I’m emotionally compromised in any way because I found myself bloody sobbing as Marie was talking about her son. I should know that Malevolent is going to play dirty with my emotions. 

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum ENDLESS okay I don’t want to ruin this for anyone who hasn’t listened yet but !!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!! and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let’s go!!!!!!!!!!!

🐬 @patterspod P Files brought creative levity into our lives with the tale of Professor Fantabulum. I’m honestly a huge fan of the idea of creative genius as a torch passed on to the people who you inspire

🌨️ @thewhitevault (5) Oh I just don’t trust this guy at all. . . everything he says is so perfectly plausible that there’s just obviously something wrong with him. My friend pointed out that the family meeting mentioned surveyors . . . . .  Now S has been killed by something . . . . I just adore the way The White Vault slowly ramps up the cosmic kind of horror but you’re so distracted by all the other scary human shit going on that your brain is primed and ready to be terrified by the obviously fictional stuff by the time it happens. It’s such clever writing!! 

❤️‍🔥 The Love Talker (6) Ah, now, Ren…. Just because you *can* do something, doesn’t meant necessarily mean that you should… you feel me? Some of the anatomical descriptions in this episode made me want to vomit a little. It’s so awful, I need to know what happens next!!

🏢 @somewhereohio (S2E5) I’m absolutely living for these scenes with Green and Sterling. Are they squishing my heart into pieces? Yes. Do I feel sick to my stomach thinking about the impossibility of trying to perfect and control the one you love? Yes. Can I have more, please? 

🍾 I finished season 1 of @ameliapodcast and what an absolute DELIGHT that ending was!! What an absolutely masterful raising of the stakes at just the right moment in time to keep the listener absolutely hooked. I hope Tara and Lily come back one day, they were so much fun and I think will be even more fun as free agents! 

🌫️ @souloperatorpod dropped this week and the first episode is very intriguing indeed! I think I need to relisten without any distractions if I want to stand a chance of collecting all the threads of red string I’m going to need for this show! I really love the theme music and am very excited for more! 

♦️ The Grotto continues to be an absolutely WILD delight. I caved and listened to two episodes this week but it’s okay because I still have ep 4 in my back pocket. I love the music, the sound design, the fact that it is literally impossible to work out what the hell is going to happen next. Go listen to The Grotto!! 

Thanks to everyone making art - it makes things better 💓 I’m so excited for @camlannpod next week!!  

#audiodramasunday #audio drama sunday #tell no tales #malevolent spoilers #tsv spoilers #the amelia project #travelling light #the mistholme museum of mystery morbidity and mortality #finding pattersby #the white vault #the grotto #soul operator #the department of variance of somewhere ohio

[estrellami-1]

Cutesy prompt, also derived from my life but just because I’m thinking about getting a switch after falling in love with animal crossing playthroughs lol:

Modern au, no upside down : Steve hasn’t really been one for video games he doesn’t like the jump scares and the violence there’s enough of that in real life if he turns on the news, but Robin gets him hooked on animal crossing playthroughs on YouTube and he falls in love with how comforting and straightforward the game is, you plant a seed and you see it grow to a sapling right away there’s a sense of accomplishment. Steve usually drives Dustin and the kids to their Dnd nights at a game shop and while it’s pricier than he would usually splurge on he’s been thinking about buying a switch to play animal crossing himself so he decides to go to the one game shop he knows off the top of his head, the one he takes the kids to, that just so happens to be owned by eddie who does weekly DND nights. Eddie talks with him about the pros and cons of different consoles and games and maybe suggests that if he’d like he could come over to his place to try it out first hand and maybe join him for dinner while he’s at it?

(Okay side note while I was writing this I thought of twists that could be added to it, like maybe after hearing his reasoning for liking the calmer games eddie writes a sweet low stakes type of campaign for Steve and convinces him to join them for a campaign to show him it doesn’t have to be violent or scary. Or maybe they have those play in store to try it out kind of things and eddie offers that he can try it out in the store until he’s ready to buy and Steve keeps coming back to the store under the guise of trying out the console but really just to spend more time with eddie. I could think of more but I think it has potential)

💜

Ok so I’m like Steve, I don’t play video games. I’ve played Minecraft and my favorite thing to do is farm 😂 I’ve never played Animal Crossing so my apologies if anything is incorrect! I do think this is a SUPER cute prompt though and I’m so excited to see where y’all take it! 😉

Admittedly, my love, I did not complete this prompt the way you had specified, but I felt like I hit enough of the major points and got to a good stopping place for now. Feel free to send another ask if you want me to continue! ❤️

Title Screen - Part 1

“Robin, what-” he flails as his phone is ripped from his hand.

She judges him. “Sudoku, Steve? Really?”

“I like it! What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna love this. Promise.”

He throws his hands up and waits for her to hand his phone back. When she does, it’s open to YouTube. “Trust me,” she asks. “Just watch the first video.”

He reads the title. “A video game playthrough? Robs, you know I don’t like video games.”

“I know you don’t like violent video games. This one isn’t violent, Steve. Promise.”

He narrows his eyes at her, but she’s his best friend and roommate for a reason, so he plays it as soon as she leaves the room.

When she comes back in to ask about dinner, she’s got a smug look on her face. “Fine, you were right,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s cute. I like the bunny.”

Robin chuckles. “I thought you might. Y’know that video game store the kiddos love? I think they’ve got it.”

“Probably,” he allows, very much not thinking about it. Or the very attractive employee who seems to always be there when he is, shopping for the kids. He sets his phone on his chest. “How’s Chinese for dinner sound?”

“I’ll marry you,” Robin says.

Steve chuckles. “Wanna call it in? You know my order.”

“Orange chicken.” She makes a face. “Yeah, I’ll call it in.”

“Thanks.” She waves him off, so as she leaves, he calls, “I’m serious! Thank you! I love you! Marry me!”

“I’ll leave you at the altar!” She calls back, and he cackles.

He plays the video again.

Three days later finds him inside the video game store. Not for him, he swears, but Dustin’s birthday is soon-ish, anyways, and he needs a present, and he had been talking about some figurine or another.

“Hey, welcome in!” Very Attractive Employee says. “Can I help you find anything?”

Steve smiles, shakes his head. “Thank you.” He walks around, doesn’t necessarily look for Animal Crossing, but doesn’t necessarily walk away when he sees it, either. He picks it up, examines the case. Robin’s got a Switch, and he knows she’d let him borrow it. The one part he’s not really sold on is the price. He sets it down, looks at it for a minute longer, as if that would make the price change.

“If you’d like to try, I can put it in the system,” Very Attractive Employee says. His voice is soft, and something about it sounds familiar.

“I dunno.” Steve sighs. “I don’t want to impose, and I know most of the beginning is a bunch of talking and naming yourself and the world, right?”

Very Attractive Employee frowns. “Have you played it before?”

“Ah… no. I, uh.” He’s strangely embarrassed to say it. “I’ve watched playthrough videos.”

Very Attractive Employee grins and motions him over to the trial station. “Yeah? YouTube, right? D’you know who?”

“Uh…” Steve pulls his phone out, opens YouTube. It’s one of the first recommended videos. “HFClub?”

“Ah.” He stills for a moment, then smiles at Steve. “Well, if you’d like to try, it’s available.” He gestures to the console. “And believe it or not, this isn’t a super high-traffic store. It can get kinda boring being the only one here. If you don’t mind me watching over your shoulder, I don’t mind you staying until I’ve gotta close up.” He grins at Steve. “Whaddya say?”

Steve smiles tentatively back, takes a seat, and picks up the device.

He was right; it takes him a good amount of time to get past the opening, but he does have fun, especially with Very Attractive Employee imitating the other characters.

When he looks up again, it’s dark outside. “Oh, shit,” he murmurs, checking his watch. Somehow he’s spent three hours playing. “Shit, man, that’s dangerous,” he laughs.

Very Attractive Employee chuckles. “I know, right?” He shifts. “I’ve seen you in here before buying other games, and you don’t hesitate. Can I ask why today was different?”

“I usually come in to buy things for these kids I used to babysit. This one is purely selfish.” He grins and stretches, grins more when he notices Very Attractive Employee’s gaze is drawn down to where his shirt has ridden up.

“Kids?” He finally asks.

Steve hums. “You might know ‘em, actually, there’s one with curly hair, usually wears a trucker hat. A redhead who will put the fear of God into you. A bitchy kid with hair that could be great-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Very Attractive Employee waves his arms through the air. “Dustin? Max? Mike?”

“Holy shit,” Steve says, and begins to laugh. “Yeah, exactly.”

Very Attractive Employee looks at Steve for a minute before saying, “So you must be Steve!”

Steve gapes. “They talk about me?”

“Oh, man.” Very Attractive Employee chuckles. “Dustin never shuts up about you, man, he loves you.”

“Oh.” Steve stills. “I, uh. Kinda thought they just tolerated me.”

“No way. Well, maybe Mike, but you know how he is.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah. Do you know them just from how often they come in here?”

“Oh, no. I’m their DM. Y’know, Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Oh,” Steve nods, thinks. “Eddie, right? And- fuck, what was it. Elf Club, or something?”

Eddie chuckles. “You mean Hellfire Club?”

Steve snaps and points at Eddie. “That’s the one. Man, they love you too, every time I see the brats it’s always Eddie this and Eddie that and Eddie killed our characters but it was great.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s good to hear. Can I ask why you’re just now looking at this for yourself?”

Steve sighs. “I know the kids love your campaigns, but I don’t like anything too horror-y. I don’t like jump-scares, and it feels like most video games have some element of that. My best friend got me hooked on the videos, and I decided to try it out.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, this is definitely a very calm game. Feel free to come back in any time to continue trying it out, though. If you want.”

Steve smiles at him. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

Fic-specific tag, once again, is the fic name (no spaces): #titlescreen and as always, my writing tag is #starambles and you can subscribe to either or both to follow along with this fic! Let me know what you want to see happen next in this ‘verse!

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #robin buckley #platonic stobin #video games #animal crossing #acnh #asks #titlescreen #starambles

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Such a Fool for You

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Language, flirty Roy being flirty, angst and insecurity, adults drinking adult drinks

1.1k words

Teach Me Tonight Masterlist

Roy didn’t ask you out.

On Monday, he greeted you with a smile and a coffee, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed you the paper cup.

“Little something to warm you up,” he hummed with a wink.

On Tuesday afternoon, Phoebe asked when you were getting ice cream with them again.

“I don’t know,” Roy hummed, raising those thick eyebrows at you. “Guess she’ll have to come to another practice.”

On Wednesday morning, he handed you a little pastry bag to go with your coffee before letting his hand brush over your hip for a fraction of a second.

“Chocolate croissant, right?” Like he needed to ask; he had your order memorized at this point.

On Thursday, he stopped to chat after school, letting his gaze wander down your figure; you were wearing the same outfit you’d worn to the girls’ scrimmage.

“Another day of being a fucking distraction?” he teased once his eyes found your face again. “If I’d seen you in a dress like that when I used to play, I’d get hit in the face every time they tried to pass me the fucking ball.”

By the time Roy smirked at you on Friday afternoon and wished you a good weekend, you were slowly descending into a spiral of giddiness and insecurity. Your stomach and heart were constantly doing flips with the way Roy Kent had spent all week smiling at you, and finding little ways to touch you, and winking at you, and you were pretty sure flirting with you. But he had yet to fucking ask you out.

After pretending to do some grading while really thinking about Roy Kent’s brown eyes, you dragged Leanne out of her classroom and down to the pub you often found yourselves at when you didn’t feel like joining the rest of the staff at happy hour. Good mate that she was, she didn’t complain once when you started whining about Roy Kent.

“… and bringing me fucking coffee and pastries, like what the fuck is that?” you huffed, downing the last of your drink. “Right where everyone can see, too. Like he’s trying to fucking stake his claim in me or something.”

Leanne chuckled. “He probably is. You did say he looked ready to pounce when Mr. Price talked to you at the Zoo.”

You slumped down a little. “Then why hasn’t he asked me out?” Your voice was whining, childish, like the kids when you told them they had to do a writing assignment. “What, I’m good enough to flirt with and buy coffee for and those little flirty touches, but not good enough to ask on a real fucking date?” You sighed. “Maybe I’ve… misread things,” you mumbled. “Like you said, he’s nice. Easy to misinterpret or read too much into.” You nodded, more to yourself than Leanne. “It’s flattering, having someone like Roy Kent flirt with me. But maybe that’s all this was, him flirting with me.”

As you sulked, Leanne perked up. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“What d’you-?”

“Is this where the pretty teachers hang out after school?”

Roy Kent smirked, gazing down at you as if you were the only woman in the pub. Fuck, did this man do nothing but skulk around places where teachers like to drink? His eyes sparkled, that same way they’d been sparkling ever since that day you went to lunch with him. He was teasing you. Ever since that day you had lunch, Roy Kent had been teasing you.

He liked teasing you, he realized. You were adorable, all flustered and fidgety, with those wide eyes that stared at him in wonder. As much as he wanted to lift you to your feet and kiss you, right then and there, in front of the whole fucking pub, he wasn’t quite ready to let go of this little game, this little pursuit. It had been a while since he’d felt so infatuated with someone, and, if he was being really honest, there was still the chance that you weren’t as enamored as he was. He didn’t want to make a move just to have you let him down in that sweet way of yours, all sympathies and tenderness. No, he wanted to keep this… thing going for as long as possible, until you made it clear how you felt.

“Hi, Coach,” you squeaked, trying not to look too excited at the sight of him. You were mad at him, after all.

His smirk widened at the sound of your nervous greeting. “Is this my niece’s fault?” he teased, nodding towards your empty drink.

“Oh- no- she’s- I mean-”

God, why did you always end up a babbling mess when Roy Kent smiled at you?

Luckily, Leanne had been there, done that.

“Coach Kent,” she interrupted, tearing Roy’s attention away from you.

“Ms. Bowen,” he greeted, mirroring her light tone. “How’re you?”

You tried to get your heart rate down as the two exchanged quick pleasantries. You couldn’t help but notice the way Roy’s eyes kept shifting to you as he and Lee spoke; he really was the handsomest man you’d ever met, you decided. And, not for the first time, that handsome man caught you staring.

Leanne sat up, raising her eyebrows at the way you and Roy were so clearly pining over each other. “Are you coming to the fall festival?”

The fall festival was one of the biggest fundraisers of the year. Food, games, silent auction, the whole deal. It was honestly very fun, one of your favorite school events. You usually ended up selling baked goods with Leanne, which often involved sneaking cookies when Mrs. Selig wasn’t looking.

He shrugged, eyes on you once again. “I’ll be there.” He cleared his throat and turned back to Leanne. “And all the teachers will be there, I assume?”

Lee nodded towards you. “We’ll probably be selling cookies and things. You should make sure to come say hello.”

Roy nodded. “Maybe I will.” As he turned to leave, his fingers brushed your hand. “Save me a cookie,” he hummed with a wink; and then he was gone.

You groaned and stared at Leanne, who looked nothing short of amused as she sipped her drink. “See? He just fucking flirts with me, fucking teases me, and then leaves. It’s so humiliating. Like, either ask me on a date or leave me the fuck alone and go flirt with the next teacher.”

“Do you think, I dunno, maybe he’s waiting to figure out if you like him back?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure the gorgeous coach was out of sight. “I’m the most obvious dolt in the world, always stuttering and making a fool of myself.”

She shook her head. “He clearly makes you nervous,” she said slowly. “But have you made it clear you’re interested in him, the way he is in you?” She shrugged. “He might not be sure if you get all flustered because you have a crush or because… he’s skeeving you out.”

Oh. Oh no, you realized. You thought back to the night at the club, when he’d left so abruptly. Roy had looked ashamed, panicked. You thought back to the lunch you’d had together, or that moment where he’d put his hand on your back at the zoo. Behind the bravado and confidence, there was always a glimmer of anxiety, as if he was waiting for you to shove him away and scold him for being so forward with his niece’s teacher.

“Shit,” you muttered, slouching further into your seat. “I’m kind of an idiot, aren’t I?”

Leanne smiled sympathetically and lifted her glass. “The prettiest one I know.”

Taglist:@infinetlyforgotten @gothicwidowsworld@taytaylala12@amieinghigh@klaine-92@misshall14@rosesheerio@goose-101@gee72sstuff@alainabooks143@lwritesstuff@hayden-maximoff@optimisticsandwichgladiator@veryprairieberry@scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir@jaymum@shakespeareanwannabe@axelsagewrites@kidd3ath@brainscabs@v-nest@just35yrsandtrying@idk1234567@ohwauwdoritos@wearethecanadians@deliriousfangirl61@laukora1030@its-a-show-stoppin-number@blue-bujo@ohwauwdoritos@seatbacksandtraytables@amieinghigh @libsybum @dark-academia-slut@tweasley20@missemilygilmore @luvr-bunnyy @larascorneroftheworld

#roy kent teach me tonight #roy kent x teacher!reader #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic

[checkereddreamsandicecreams]

MmmmMMNGH some early concept sketches. Pretend any weird lines don’t exist—-I’m drawing this on my phone like the poor person I am lolol.

The story is still developing as well but…feel free to add in any input! I love hearing ideas.

Instead of Wolfwood being a terrible Ashley Furniture salesman, Vash decides to give it a try and spills his wine all over the bleached upholstery.

….whatever leads up to that scenario I’m not sure, but the death is certain.

The roles are reversed, and Wolfwood has to bury Vash. And he’s absolutely terrified of what this means now, especially for humanity once Knives finds out about this.

Vash’s soul enters the afterlife, and it’s kind of a big community like in Coco. The mood is mixed, maybe he recognizes quite a few people. But he probably doesn’t want to be recognized, really.

Especially not when those fangs of his are on full display. He’s just skull and bones, even lankier than when he had flesh. This wasn’t the “him” that people had come to know in the living world.

Somehow, Wolfwood finds out a way to enter this realm and he attempts to do it without Knives knowing about any of this. He has a time limit. He paints his face, covers his head, wears black gloves, whatever he needs to do to blend in.

He manages to find Vash (though it’s not that hard, he’s one of the few 6 ft+ tall skeletons meandering around). He lays out the stakes, lets Vash know that Knives is going to wipe the planet clean now that there’s nothing holding him back. He misses him, he honest to god needs to come back to the living world no matter what it takes.

But Vash….he hesitates. Maybe he’s seen Rem. Like the actual Rem. He hasn’t talked to her yet but he needs to. He’s been just a stone’s throw away from her at one point and he’s going to find her again and he needs to tell her everything. He can’t go back. Maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe he’s somehow given a normal life here, as normal as it can be. He sees everyone he’s missed, and they missed him. And they’re like family. Why would he come back?

Wolfwood knew Vash’s skull was thick, but he didn’t know just how thick until his fist makes contact and quite literally pops it clean off Vash’s shoulders.

They eventually come to an agreement and there’s trials they would have to face to get back to the living world, but I wanted to capture just the amount of color this world would bring out compared to dusty Gunsmoke.

I’m wondering if Vash still has powers in this world. Maybe, Wolfwood’s flesh starts to fade away the longer he stays there, but for Vash it’s the opposite. He can bring out powers and he gains a faint blue glow that outlines his wings and his missing arm (I don’t think he would carry that prosthetic into the afterlife anyway?)

I’ll do more doodles but hopefully you guys like these for now?

#vash the stampede #wolfwood #trigun #trigun au #op rambles late at night and should be in bed #my art #could potentially swap out wolfwood with Meryl somehow but she’d opt for tackling Vash and wringing his spindly neck instead of punching

[misted-buttercup-enjoyer]

Fionna and Cake: Simon and Marcy So Far: Analysis Part 1

INTRO:

The first two episodes of Fionna and Cake have been released, capturing the hearts of fans, and with it, some new Simon and Marcy content has dropped. Ever since the father/daughter duo made their debut in Adventure Time’s tearjerker episode “I Remember You” (season 4, episode 25) they have smote the hearts of fans everywhere. With the first two episodes, here is my analysis on which direction their relationship is going in this spinoff series.

FLASHBACK:

Fionna and Cake Episode 2 “Simon Petrikov” opens with the two running away from some oozers. They take shelter in a sewer. Simon considers putting on the crown, but Marcy pulls his hand away and glares at him. The oozers leave the two to chat. The button of Marcy’s overall dress pops off and Simon begins sewing it back on. Marcy asks him what she’d do without him. Simon assures her that “you’re so great, Marceline, someone else would definitely find you and take care of you. Maybe even someone rich!” Simon continues this fantasy, telling Marceline that she’d live in a castle with “food, medicine, and trained squirrels to tend to your every need. And as for me, I’d uh…um…” Simon directs this at Marceline, but he seems to be saying what he wants for Marceline. In Stakes Episode 2 “Everything Stays,” when Simon is officially leaving Marceline and barely holding onto his sanity, he promises he’ll send someone to take care of her. (On a related note, we see in season 7 episode 10, “Marcy and Hunson,” that Simon summoned Hunson to take care of Marceline until she left his care after the fries incident.) Simon wants Marcy to be safe, and he’d want to believe if something happened to him Marceline would be okay and someone would come take care of her. For food, obviously in the apocalypse, food would be hard to find. In season 5 episode 14 “Simon and Marcy,” Marceline tries to make Simon breakfast and resorts to pine needles and deer guts. For medicine, we can see Simon worries a lot about Marceline when she gets sick. We see when Marcy gets a fever in “Simon and Marcy,” he dedicates the whole day to finding chicken soup for her. He’d want her in an environment where she can access healthcare easily. For trained squirrels, well, it’s a funny way to put it, in classic Adventure Time style, but I think it ties back to Simon wanting Marceline to be well taken care of. But we can see he doesn’t really have any plans for himself. He’s lost his home, his books, his fiancee, and his entire life’s structure at this point. Marcy and whatever he carries in his backpack is his entire world now, and he can’t imagine what his world would be without her to take care of.

THE FUTURE:

Simon trails off when he talks about a life without Marceline. And now we’re in a future where this…kind of came to pass. Don’t get me wrong, Marcy and Simon are still close. Simon calls Marcy, Marcy is happy to hear from him even though she’s busy–more on this phone conversation later–and Marcy mentions hanging out soon. But Marceline can longer be Simon’s whole world like she used to be. She’s grown up, she’s been taking care of herself for about a thousand years and she has a girlfriend and lots of friends and acquaintances. Heck, she hasn’t just been taking care of herself, she kept Ice King company and took care of him in a way too. She’s delighted that Simon’s back, but she’s no longer dependent on Simon’s protection like she used to be. She’s also no longer right there to observe Simon’s behavior and remind him to take care of himself, like we see her doing in the flashback when he almost puts on the crown. Not only does Simon not have Marcy to take care of, he doesn’t have any reason not to spiral into this depressive state he’s in at this point (Fionna and Cake Episode 2 “Simon Petrikov,") and he doesn't have her little reminders.

Which brings me back to the subject of their call. Marcy immediately asks Simon how he’s doing, and how’s work. Simon responds by saying it was fine, skimming over how bad it actually was. But why? Why is he doing this?

CHILDCARE IN THE APOCALYPSE 101:

A big part of parenting in the apocalypse would’ve been keeping Marceline calm so she doesn’t panic. When Marceline gets a fever in “Simon and Marcy,” the first thing Simon says after waking up, feeling her forehead when she's sick and mentioning the fever got worse is “I mean, don’t freak out or anything.” We can see through what glimpses we get of his travels with Marceline that he’s very optimistic and playful. He makes up a song for Marceline (Marceline mentions him making up more silly songs), plays games with her, makes a lot of jokes (humor is one hell of a coping mechanism), and in the flashback we see him telling Marceline that this is one of the nicest sewer’s they’ve hidden in. I think it’s important for us to remember how quickly Marceline grew up to Simon. Not even in the usual “they grow up so fast” way, but as in, when he left her, she was about ten years old. The next time he saw her in any fit state to recognize her, she was a thousand years old with the mindset and body of a young adult. The timeskip would’ve been jarring for him, to say the least. It’s been about twelve years since that sudden change, but old habits die hard. Simon hasn’t stopped trying to keep Marceline from freaking out over a lesser problem. Not just because he’s used to keeping her calm in the apocalypse and can’t help but view her as his little girl still, but no one likes admitting to a loved one they’re experiencing a mental health crisis* in the first place. Along with this, while in his state of magical madness, Ice King’s condition doubtless caused Marceline a lot of anxiety and unhappiness. On top of his habits of not freaking her out and the usual desire not to explain what you’re going through, he wouldn’t want to cause Marceline any more grief than she’s already been through. Don’t worry, Simon, Marcy’s already super traumatized. Helping you out won’t hold a candle to everything she’s been through.

THE PHONE CALL:

I feel like what really drives home the difference in how Simon still sees her vs. how she is now is the phone call. Don’t get me wrong, Simon loves Marceline and is doubtless happy for her that she has a girlfriend, a career in music, and a life.

But when he calls Marceline, he’s been reminded of her by watching little girl’s caretaker help her reach a watermelon. A little child. When Simon calls her up, she is getting matching tattoos with Princess Bubblegum (or, trying to, anyway, but her skin keeps instahealing and PB is made of literal gum). Getting matching tattoos with the person you plan on spending your life with is a much more grown-up activity. The music also serves as an immediate contrast between the atmospheric quiet of the forest and gentle strumming and singing of Rebecca Sugar, compared to the rock music blasting in the background of Marceline’s antics. The contrast between the future and the past. The contrast between what their relationship used to be like, something that gave Simon’s life structure and hope, and what it is now–still loving, but not something he can model his whole life around.

ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK:

Their dynamic has changed. Simon used to be the one keeping Marceline from despair and taking care of her. Now not only is Marceline living her best life with her girlfriend (Simon has neither of those), but Simon’s the one in danger of despair. Simon is used to taking care of Marceline, but they can’t be that way anymore, since Marcy is grown up and took care of him at one point. A good visual metaphor for this is at the beginning clip of Simon and Little Marcy. When they’re running from the oozers, at first, Marcy is behind Simon, and Simon, also running for his life, pants “C’mon” to her. A few seconds later, Marceline is the one in front of Simon, holding his hand and trying to get him to go faster. It’s a real blink-and-you-miss-it detail, but I think this was definitely intentional.

FIONNA AND CAKE AS A METAPHOR FOR MARCELINE AND THE ICE KING:

This feels like a crack theory or overanalyzing, but I still want to mention this. One of the main plot points of Episode 1 “Fionna and Cake” is Cake’s mysterious health issue. Cake is obsessed with the cold, only able to recognize her own name and “food.” Cake runs to open the ice dispenser of Fionna’s fridge and ends up staining Fionna’s work clothes, at which Fionna says, “Stop acting crazy!” This wouldn’t be particularly noticeable, but in “I Remember You,” Marceline says this exact phrase to Simon with the exact same cadence, and shortly after, Simon runs to the fridge, just like Cake just did. Cake is Fionna’s cat, and Fionna tries to take care of Cake and take her to the vet. Which I think again could refer to Marceline taking care of Simon while he was the Ice King (Ice King and Cake not understanding what’s going on, the ice motifs that Simon rejects so vehemently in “Simon Petrikov,” etc.) Which, again, refers to how different their dynamic is today, since Marceline has taken care of Ice King and gained so much independence, so different from what Simon remembers.

PREDICTIONS FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP GOING FORWARD:

It’s hard to imagine all of this is being set up just to be dropped, so this all begs the question, what will their relationship be going forward? What does the series have in mind for their future?

There’s no way Marceline will be happy Simon’s been keeping his problems from her. But she may be able to relate. In “Obsidian,” Marcy tells Princess Bubblegum, “My mom and I didn’t talk about bad stuff. When she got really sick, she didn’t even tell me. She meant well, but I think it messed me up about being honest about my feelings.” We can see this in action, too. She isn’t very communicative in her relationship with Bonnibel before the events of “Obsidian,” she doesn’t talk much about how she’s feeling, and she has a habit of talking about what someone else did rather than how it made her feel. So Simon’s difficulty in honest communication might resonate with her.

Either way, I’m excited to see what the Adventure Time crew is going to come up with for them, especially if Rebecca Sugar is involved!

CONCLUSION:

In conclusion, while the pair are still close, Simon is kind of lost without Marceline to care for and protect every minute of the day. Their relationship dynamic has changed, and, for Simon, the change was very abrupt. He still hasn’t stopped thinking of Marceline as someone he needs to keep feeling positive and calm, and he doesn’t want to tell her about his issues. This can only go one way: angsty. 

Thank you for reading my analysis! My plan is to continue analyzing their relationships as new episodes release, since nothing gets me feeling motivated like new episodes, but I’m also starting up the school year, and it depends on how much Simon and Marcy content we get in the new upcoming episodes, so I can’t make promises. Sorry for the current lack of screenshots, I have an event to go to but when I get back I’ll add some pictures. I hope this at least was some food for the thought. Leave your thoughts about their relationship in the tags, reblogs, or comment section. Also, if this analysis seems all over the place, don’t worry, I’m going back to English class soon, so hopefully things will feel more professional as I brush up on my writing skills.

*I would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone to take care of their mental health and talk to loved ones if they’re experiencing mental unwellness. The themes of Fionna and Cake seem to center a lot around misery and depression, so don’t forget that you are not alone, and there is help available.

Hotline Numbers:

Mental Health or Suicide Crisis Hotline: 988 (you can also text with them using this number.)

#my thoughts on the only father/daughter pair in young adult fiction where the dad isn't a deadbeat or straight up dead and #the bad things they've been through isn't his fault. #or i mean i guess there are others but what is WITH young adult fiction's determination with terrible dads? #there's so much more potential in actual father/daughter love and problems outside of their control #adventure time #fionna and cake #simon and marcy #marceline the vampire queen #marceline adventure time #marceline abadeer #simon petrikov #simon adventure time #fionna campbell #cake the cat #analysis #adventure time analysis #fionna and cake analysis

[lewisinho]

a rant about the media narratives surrounding lewis, fernando and max

ok so ever since well, bahrain testing 2023 and the discovery that aston martin do indeed have a fast car (and more importantly, one which is faster than merc), the media have created the alonso ‘hype-train’, saying that this man is basically the third-coming-of-christ (let us not forget about the ‘great white hope’ himself who is the only one standing between nando and jesus himself, but i digress); example are aplenty, as the majority of formula 1’s posts on instagram, twitter etc. being about fernando and even sky making a cute little montage reminding people (who most probably have not watched nando’s glory days) that nando is in fact a two-time world champion, went through nearly all teams on the grid like a hot knife through butter, leaving a fire behind him Every. Single. Time. (you gotta respect the man at least for his ability to cause drama everywhere) and that this is not the first time he is not in a back-marker team.

And you can understand the hype to a certain extent...jeez, dude’s forty-one and races brilliantly with as much as fire as before; (disclaimer: as much as i can dislike the man, i can still recognise as a great racing driver, because you really would have to be blind not to see it); but there is a limit to it which i think has been crossed and it’s about deserving something…deserving a better team, deserving a third world championship, deserving to win races…

“(...) can fernando bring home a third and much-deserved title this year?”

pray tell how exactly this third title ‘much-deserved’? and i fully understand media tactics, content creation, boosting engagement, clicks, likes etc. etc., it’s all part of the game, i know…but why is it that fernando is the one who ‘deserves’ it? Why is the media suddenly capable of using the narrative of ‘deserving’ in relation to someone like fernando alonso?

And why that narrative can never be present in relation to one lewis hamilton? The answer’s pretty easy, no? But it runs deeper…because the media don’t want to like lewis hamilton. they didn’t want him to win in 2021, that much is obvious if you rewatch literally any race from that season and listen to the narrative around him and max…the ‘dethroning’, the ‘young-pretender’ etc. the elements where all there, they were ready, waiting impatiently for the new champion, their new ‘face of f1’ (how’s that working out for them eh?) and when ad21 came about…which was even better for the show because the stakes were all that higher with the two of them on equal points…until of course, lap 57, it was all going slightly against the script, wasn’t it? But then they did their little rule-breaking, ‘human error’, whatever you want to call it and so what? max verstappen champion of the world.

lewis hamilton couldn’t afford to say anything. he couldn't because of who he is. And the media knew it. They would swallow him up like wolves. They would pounce on him, rip him up, mix him with dirt; and if they don’t do that (because he disappeared for a few months) they will sickly glorify his composure, his class, monetise his trauma etc. And we see it to this day…his silence was glorified; last year, sky f1 knew perfectly well what strategy to take; they’ve got their new champion; there’s no asterisk to that title- martin brundle (ironic you had to clarify that bud), or better yet say ‘move on’,‘it wasn’t that bad, just a mistake’, ‘you can’t change it’’, yeah because you wouldn’t like it to be changed, would you? You never wanted a black man to break that record, did you?

oh and also thank god lewis came back to the sport, and oh how amazing it is that merc built a shitbox of a car, so we can now again talk about how ‘he still hasn’t recovered from ad21’, let’s again use his trauma, say he’s finished, that he’s struggling, let’s make a mockery out of it all, yeah…and max, oh you know, he drives like a champion, he deserved that title, you win it over a season- martin brundle, again (it’s always the same suspects, isn’t it?)

He deserved it, here it is again. max verstappen deserved his titles (rule-breaking and cost cap breaches under the carpet); he’s a pure racer, you know. All he cares about is racing. He’s pure talent and passionate.

fernando alonso deserves his third title, apparently. He works hard. He empowers his team. He works well with his new, young teammate. He’s got the experience, the maturity and the talent. He’s the oldest driver on the grid, but he’s driving better than ever.

Lewis won’t get that because he’s alone as the only black man in this sport, which will continue to isolate him, belittle him, but also will use him. Lewis won’t ever get the alonso treatment. He won’t be willed on, cheered on, no. No, never.

Same old. Same old.

#f1 #lewis hamilton

[wonderlandleighleigh]

The cooking show in ‘78 is a big hit, which doesn’t really surprise Midge, much. She’s always been a whiz in the kitchen, and she’s funny as hell on top of that, and so the combination of her quick humor and delicious food winds up being an irresistible one-two punch.

Susie is happy, too. It’s keeping Midge in the public eye without having to send her on tour. Abe isn’t doing all that great now that Rose is gone, and the kids are a fucking mess, apparently, with Esther’s genius starting to make her life much harder, and Ethan is still trying to decide whether he wants to do his rabbinical studies here in the states or in Israel.

Shit’s nuts, in short.

But the show is fun. It’s low stakes, and every once in a while they have a celebrity guest come on to make one of their own dishes. Gordon Ford came on once for a steak au poivre recipe where he just hit on Midge the entire time. It made for good TV, but Midge left set annoyed as fuck and the two women drank their way through a couple of bottles of wine that night.

Shy Baldwin came on for an episode to make paella and Midge makes lots of jokes about Jewish people and shellfish, while Shy complains about the fact that when he does cooking shows everyone wants him to make fried chicken.

“My fried chicken is terrible,” he laughs. “I gave Reggie salmonella once.”

Midge laughs at that. “You did not!”

“I did! He’s never let me live it down!”

It’s a great episode, two old friends who have mended a long-broken fence giggling their way through a half hour of television, talking about the tour in 1960, and having a frank discussion about Shy’s coming out the year before. Shit gets rave reviews TV Guide, and even Variety picks up a blurb about the two’s warmth and effervescence on screen.

Susie is happy.

“I booked Lenny Bruce for next week.”

Susie is less happy.

“Mike!” she snaps. “What the fuck?! Seriously!? She hasn’t spoken to him since his overdose in ‘66!”

Mike blinks. “I thought they were friends.”

“Before he fucked his life, yeah,” Susie tells him. “They haven’t spoken in years.”

“Do they hate each other?” Mike asks. “Should I cancel?”

Susie blows out a breath and thinks for a moment. Midge doesn’t hate Lenny. Quite the opposite. They just...never got it together. “Let me talk to her. See what she wants.”

“The guy’s been clean since he almost kicked it,” Mike shrugs. “And he’s mostly working behind the scenes producing documentaries these days. I thought it’d be a nice ‘hello, old friend’ kind of episode.”

Susie squeezes her eyes shut. “Just...lemme take her temperature on it.”

*****

“Oh.”

Susie observes her oldest friend quietly as the comedian absorbs the information. Her eyes look sad and wistful for just a moment before she takes a breath and sits up straight.

“It’ll be fine,” Midge says. “It’ll be...nice. To see him.”

Susie eyes her suspiciously. “Will it?”

“I uh...yeah,” Midge nods. “I think the last time we spoke, we ran into each other at a Grammy party he stopped in at right after he got clean. He was...it was nice.”

Susie sighs softly. She likes Lenny. She, too, has run into him here and there, and since getting his shit together and winning his appeal, he’s been good. He was downright sweet the last time, buying Susie a drink. Thanking her for trying to drag his dumb ass out of that hole he was in.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if Lenny wound up being husband number five.

“Okay, then. Lenny is on next week,” Susie confirms.

*****

He gets to set a little early to prep, and say hello. He’s quiet now, which Midge finds strange, but he’s clearly happy to be there. They share a friendly peck in greeting and then the work starts.

Susie hovers, whether to keep an eye on him or to keep an eye on her, Midge doesn’t know, but they run through what they’re doing (chicken soup - she can’t believe she hasn’t made it on the show yet), and the director does his usual shpeil, explaining how things work, where to look, where to stand.

Once the cameras are rolling, that old chemistry comes roaring back like a tidal wave. Their banter is fast and funny, and they laugh together. They shamelessly flirt, and Lenny drives her nuts by adding too much chili powder to the soup.

“You like spicy food,” he accuses.

“But chicken soup isn’t a spicy dish, Lenny.”

“Why not? We’re adults. We’re not committing murder. We can make spicy chicken soup.”

It goes off the rails from there, and suddenly they’re adding an entire jalapeno to the soup, and Lenny goads her into doing a party trick she’d mentioned to him long ago; eating an entire hot pepper without incident, which she does. 

They eat the soup, and declare it delicious, surprisingly, with all the spice.

They end the episode with their arms wrapped around each other, and Lenny laughing and trying to avoid her spicy breath as she giggles her way through the outro of the show. Once she gets out her “thank you and goodnight!” she turns to him and huffs in his face, making him jerk back, still laughing.

Susie can’t remember the last time Midge lit up so much with anyone other than Susie herself. It looks good on her, and since her mother died, she’s been down.

“You still out in LA?” Susie asks him as he’s getting ready to leave.

“I just moved back,” Lenny admits. “There are three docs shooting here in the next year I’m working on, and I’ve been asked to be more active, so I got a little place.”

Midge hears and perks up, but doesn’t say anything.

“Well...don’t be a stranger, then,” Susie tells him, patting his arm as she walks off, leaving the two comics to talk, though listening as she goes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were moving back?” Midge asks.

“We don’t talk very much anymore, I didn’t think you’d care to know,” Lenny offers helplessly.

“You’re so dumb,” she accuses. “Of course I care to know. We should throw you a housewarming party.”

“No.”

“Lenny.”

He sighs heavily, as unable to say no to her as Susie is. “Fine.”

Susie smirks and heads for the offices to get a bead on last week’s ratings.

*****

After that, Lenny guests on the show once a month, and even when he’s not there, Midge brings him leftovers. 

END

#fic #au #tmmm #Midge x Lenny #Susie Myerson #Midge Maisel #Fictional Lenny

[ssahotstuff]

i have an uber specific request for a fic, or whatever you’re willing to do, if you’re down

i’m going on vacay soon - camping - and i thought it would be adorable to see that hotch and fem!reader dynamic. tbh i could see the team organizing a group camping trip in their down time, maybe as a way to let lose and get their minds off the job for a while, but also simply because they’ve grown to be such a close knit family. it’s just the sort of activity that would bring them all that much closer.

so, in my mind, reader sees herself as hopeless (to put it nicely) and actually has 0% camping experience. she arrives late (followed right after by hotch), it’s dark out and she’s trying and failing (struggling really) to set up her tent - it’s really not a one person job. in the camp site beside her, hotch hasn’t even started setting up when he notices her struggling. without even needing to be asked, not that you would’ve asked anyway, not with the way you’re crushing on your boss, he wordlessly helps you out. you hold the tent while he erects it, the two of you nail in the stakes, voila! and then “you’ve got to be kidding” to which hotch’s response is a concerned “what is it?” as his eyes scan your face. of all the unnecessary things you brought, you forgot the thing that you arguably needed the most - your sleeping bag. followed by aaron being quick to offer up his, to which you insist the two of you share. long story short, hotch won’t need the tent he brought, so he doesn’t bother. the one bed trope but ~ spicy ~ because no you didn’t think this through, sleeping bags are really only made for one person, and you’re pressed so tightly against him that his heartbeat feels like your own and you feel his chest pressed against you… among other things.

basically i’d just be a sucker for seeing hotch take care of reader. i could see him making a fire, and the two of you just sitting there, flames reflected in your eyes, as the two of you talk late into the night. i’m also a sucker for lots of fluff and mutual pining. bonus points if reader gets to steal hotch’s quarter zip !!

just some late night thoughts <33 sending you lots of love !! your writing is lovely

Oooh camping Hotch and reader below the cut!!

Minors DNI! Smut below the cut

You'd been buying things for a month, gearing up for the teams newest tradition: a camping trip. JJ and Derek had been planning everything for weeks, getting everyone to agree to it, even Hotch. Derek suggested it could be a team building exercise, and you couldn't do it without your fearless leader.

You had secretly been dreading the entire trip. Each time you bought something to take with you, you'd sigh heavily just thinking about being stuck in the woods with no bathroom and less than favorable sleeping conditions. The place they'd chosen was nice, but it was still outside, and you weren't excited for that part.

You were almost the last to arrive. Hotch pulled into the clearing right after you. There was a trail near the tree line that would lead you to the campsite, but you didn't want to walk alone, so you decided to wait on him.

"Remind me again why we agreed to this?" He groaned, slinging his backpack over his shoulders before he grabbed the rest of his things.

"Derek guilted us, remember? I wanted to go to the casino," every time you could all get a weekend off together, you were making group plans. Derek's bright idea had been camping.

"You can't get this kind of experience at the casino," he countered, and he was right. The woods were buzzing with animal chatter, and the leaves were ever changing, yellows and oranges around you. You'd brought your camera hoping you could get some good shots of everyone and some photos of the beautiful scenery.

"I'm just not the outdoorsy type," he waited for you to finish grabbing your things and the two of you took off towards the trail. It was a bit rocky, so he held out his hand so you wouldn't get tripped up, helping you down the steep terrain. You knew he was just trying to keep you from falling, but it made your heart skip a beat to hold his hand for any amount of time. You couldn't recall a time when you'd wanted anyone as badly as you wanted Hotch.

With a little encouragement from Emily, who thought he felt the same way about you, you'd began to open up to him more, started getting to know him. He'd been doing the same with you, late nights when you were both finishing reports, you'd talk for hours in his office, until the two of you were too tired to write anymore. It had become a part of your office routine—if you weren't working a case, you were usually on the couch in his office, helping him out.

He didn't mind the company, you brought him coffee and made sure he ate, and in return, the two of you got to where you knew secrets about one another. There was an established level of trust between you, and it only grew stronger as the months passed.

"I think we'll all have a good time. I just hope somebody remembered to bring the tequila," he joked, and in no time you made it to the clearing where everyone else was setting up. You picked a spot further away from everyone, and Hotch opted for the spot right next to you. You grabbed the instructions for your tent and set to work.

A half an hour later, Hotch was coming to the rescue. He started connecting the rods and had the tent slid on them in no time, letting you help to set the stakes in the ground while he did the rest. When he was finished, you stepped back to admire his work, your fingertips brushing against his for just a moment as he handed you the instructions.

"Thank you," you said softly, and he nodded, unzipping the flap so you could climb inside and check it out. You'd just started to unpack your bag when you realized you were missing the most crucial thing of all.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered mostly to yourself, but Hotch heard you and was poking his head inside.

"What's wrong?"

You nodded to the lumpy ground, which would be your bed for the next two nights.

"I forgot a sleeping bag."

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, but Hotch was immediately offering up solutions.

"Just take mine," he said, but you shook your head at him.

"And then where will you sleep, silly? Unless—do you want to just share it with me? You can sleep in here, if you want to." You felt your cheeks go rosy, but he quickly handed you his bag and climbed in, sitting next to you on the ground.

"I think we'll both fit."

Once you had your sleeping arrangements figured out, you joined the others, and Reid was at Hotch's side immediately.

"Don't tell him I said anything, but you may need to start the fire," Derek was struggling by the looks of it, sweat on his brow and his face furrowed in frustration.

"Need a hand?" Hotch offered, and Derek let him have at it. You found a log to use as a makeshift bench and you took a seat so you could watch Hotch work. He looked just as glorious as ever, his usual attire swapped for a long sleeved navy blue shirt and jeans. Emily sat down next to you, her eyes darting between you and Hotch.

"You should tell him this weekend."

You looked at her like she was crazy, shaking your head.

"I can't. If he doesn't feel the same way, it'll ruin the whole weekend."

Emily gave Hotch one last look before she pulled you away and towards her tent, her arms crossed over her chest.

"We're profilers, Y/n. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the way he looks at you. You should go for it."

You thought about her words but saw flames in the corner of your eye, Hotch and Reid sharing a quick fist bump after he got the fire going. He shot you a quick smile before taking a seat on your log. Emily nodded toward him, silently beckoning you to join him.

"Think about what I said," she whispered as you walked away, so you shot her a thumbs up, and debated how you'd let him know about your feelings.

A few hours later, everyone was tucked into bed except for you and Hotch. You wanted to sit by the fire, and he didn't want to leave you alone.

"Feels perfect. It's kind of chilly but the fire is so nice," he said, leaning into you slightly. You took a second to admire the way the flames danced in his deep, almost hazy eyes, the faintest of smiles on his lips.

"I agree, this is really nice." You we're enjoying the alone time with him more than anything, trying to work up the bravery to say something to him. He silently slid his arm around you, rubbing your arm with his hand to warm you up. You couldn't tell if your face was hot from the fire or if it was because he was so close to you.

"Want to head to bed?" He stood up, offering you his hand, his fingers lacing through yours as he led you to the tent. You climbed in, letting him get situated before you got in the sleeping bag. You had changed into shorts earlier, which is the only reason you felt his jean clad legs in the first place.

"Really? You'll be miserable in jeans all night. Take them off, Hotchner."

He let out a light laugh so you unzipped the sleeping bag to give him more room.

"You sound an awful lot like me right now, just so you know," you heard the metallic slip of his zipper coming down before he shimmied out of his jeans. You zipped the two of you back up and your original plan was to give him space just in case he was uncomfortable being around you, but his arm wrapped around you and pulled you in closer. He smelled like heaven, a mixture of his cologne and the outdoors. You didn't mind his legs tucked into yours, his tight grasp on your body.

"Isn't that much better?" You could already feel him relaxing into you, heaving a sigh of relief to finally be laying down, even if it was on the ground.

"Better by far. I'm not used to sleeping in so many layers," he still had his shirt on but you wouldn't mind if he took it off too; your imagination was running wild at the thought of being pressed to his bare chest through the night.

"I'm not used to sleeping on rocks," you wiggled against him, trying to get comfortable when his palm met your thigh, just below your shorts. He was trying to keep a few inches between your bodies, but that didn't stop his thumbs from pressing into your sensitive flesh.

"Sweetheart, you've got to stop moving or we're going to have an even bigger problem," it took you a second to process what he meant, but you didn't stop moving—instead you pressed your backside against his crotch deliberately, his cock already stiff against you.

"Oops," you teased, in love with the sound of him chuckling back at you. You rolled over, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness so you could make out his features. He found your face immediately, his fingertips tilting your face upward to meet his lips.

"What should we do about this?" His voice was barely above a whisper but it made your blood run cold nonetheless—judging by the current state he was in, you guessed he'd wanted you just as badly.

"I have a couple of ideas," you shot back before leaning forward to capture his lips. His mouth was greedy against your own, his tongue slipping past your teeth to collide with yours, nearly taking your breath away. You could feel his hands behind you working to unzip the sleeping bag so you had more room, but right now you didn't mind being pressed against him, close enough to feel his entire body radiating warmth.

"You're sure about this, right? Because I've wanted this for a while now," the slightest hint of worry was laced behind his words but you kissed him and assured him you were around to stay. You'd wanted him just as long, maybe longer. You'd never question it now that you had him, you'd only cherish him as much as possible, give him everything he needed.

"I'm positive. I wasn't sure how to say anything," your pajama bottoms were quickly being tugged down your legs, his fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties to be met with the warmth of your arousal; he audibly groaned when his fingertips collided with your clit, delving between your slick folds so he could show you how badly he'd wanted you.

"You don't have to explain it to me, sweetheart. I understand. I need you to be quiet, okay?" His free hand pushed his boxers down as he got ready to give himself to you for the first time. His fingers left your center long enough to pull your panties down the rest of the way as he crawled between your legs, propping himself up so he could line up with you. Nothing about it was ideal--you were on the ground and you couldn't see him, but it was still perfect, because it was him.

"I can be quiet," you whispered as he gripped your thighs harshly and pulled you closer to him, your back sliding against the fabric of the sleeping bag, making you move with ease. Your legs were swiftly being tucked together so he could press them back against your chest, leaving your mind reeling at the possibilities of your first time with him, if it would be rushed or slow and gentle. He teased your slit once more before slipping into you, taking your breath. There was a lot of him to get adjusted to, so he was careful not to go too fast; he simply pressed into you until he was tucked fully inside of you, letting out a shaky breath above you.

"You feel so good, my god," not being able to see him only made the experience more erotic--you could feel his large hands on your thighs, keeping them together as he struggled to keep it together; his knees shook as he began to move, tentatively and careful at first. You let out a breath at how good it felt, how whole he made you feel now that he was finally inside of you. Each stroke of his thick cock inside of you had pressure building from the very beginning, so you darted out and took his hand in yours, squeezing lightly as you came, trying to keep quiet.

"So good," he mumbled as his hips met yours, but you couldn't even form a thought, you were too busy thinking about how an hour ago, you were merely tent mates, and now there was much more going on.

"Wanted you for so long," you whined as he slammed into you, the fabric of the tent rustling below you. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to make Hotch slow down considerably, groaning from above you.

"I'm yours now," he assured you, the fluid motion of his hips driving you crazy; you needed more of him, as deep as he could possibly go. Your hands moved to the back of his thighs, so he'd get the hint that you wanted him closer, and he obliged happily, burying himself inside of you. It was a lot to process, your boss having you on your back with your legs in the air, but he'd been a lot more than just your boss for months now. You cared about him and his well-being, and you wanted to keep him as safe as you could, even though he didn't need to be protected. Hotch could certainly hold his own, but anyone could see that he'd really benefit from having someone that wanted to take care of him, and you were hoping he'd let it be you.

You knew it wasn't an ideal first time, but there would be plenty of others, and frankly, you had been so tired of waiting--despite your conversation with Emily, you truly had planned to talk to him this weekend, whether it ruined the good time or not. You couldn't hold your feelings in any longer, and from the looks of it, neither could he.

He blindly reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you came together, the two of you a sweaty, shuddering mess as you tried to calm yourself. Hotch was busy between your legs, cleaning you up before he came to lay next to you, letting you zip the sleeping bag back up around you now that you were missing a couple of layers. He seemed more comfortable, he settled into you quick, tossing his arm over you and pulling you closer.

"I'm really glad you forgot a sleeping bag," he whispered teasingly, kissing your cheek in the darkness as the woods chattered around you.

"I'll leave remembering stuff like that up to you," you joked, since he'd came so well prepared compared to you.

"You can always share a bed with me," he muttered sleepily, exhaling deeply before he went still and fell asleep and you did the same, the sound of the crickets and owls making you fall asleep quickly. The next morning, Aaron had let you sleep in, because when you woke up, you were alone in the tent and it was freezing. He'd left his quarter zip out for you though, so you quickly slipped it on, shrugging on a pair of jeans and your shoes before you went to find Hotch.

You found him building a fire, Reid and Derek at his side. The inferno was ever growing as you approached, taking a seat on the same log as before when Derek asked how you slept.

"Like a rock," you giggled, and considering the less than favorable conditions, you'd managed to get a solid nights rest thanks to being in Hotch's arms all night. He caught your gaze and shot you a soft smile, taking in your attire before he blushed like mad, his cheeks going red in an instant.

Once everyone was awake, Emily was dragging you towards her tent, eyeing your jacket curiously.

"Did you tell him?"

You shrugged, not wanting to give your secret away just yet.

"I didn't have to, he already knew."

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #ssa hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner smut #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

[joealwyndaily]

Joe Alwyn and Paul Mescal in conversation for Variety's Actors on Actors (x)

Paul Mescal and Joe Alwyn are literary heartthrobs, having both headlined TV series based on Sally Rooney books. In 2020, “Normal People” put Mescal on the map as a brooding student. And as married actor Nick in 2022’s “Conversations With Friends,” Alwyn’s character became enmeshed in a messy love triangle.

Their latest projects show what else the actors can do. In “Aftersun,” directed by first-time filmmaker Charlotte Wells, Mescal is a single dad who tries to bond with his preteen daughter (Frankie Corio) on a trip to Turkey. Alwyn had a busy year on the festival circuit, playing an enigmatic Englishman in Claire Denis’ Nicaragua-set romance “Stars at Noon” opposite Margaret Qualley, and a medieval uncle in Lena Dunham’s “Catherine Called Birdy.”

PAUL MESCAL: So what’s the name of the WhatsApp group that we’re in?

JOE ALWYN: It’s the Tortured Man Club, I think. It’s me, you — and Andrew Scott started the group.

MESCAL: He’s just on it every day. He’s just on it by himself.

ALWYN: Just messaging himself good mornings. We were both in the Sally Rooney universe and crossed over with Lenny Abrahamson. We were so lucky to have that experience.

MESCAL: Yeah, I think Lenny is one of those directors that definitely formed me. He’s been hugely important in everything that I’ve done since then. Was there anything you took from playing somebody like Nick into “Stars at Noon”?

ALWYN: With “Stars at Noon,” that was such a singular, strange, unusual entry point. I was brought on very last-minute, which was a first for me. I got an email Friday morning saying, “Will you read the script as soon as possible? If you’re interested, Claire would love to Skype with you.” And so obviously I did, I Skyped with her, and she said, “Will you join us?” She was already in Panama. And four days later, I got on a plane. And she was standing outside the hotel with a glass of rum for me and gave me a hug. And two days later, we started shooting.

MESCAL: Oh, wow. Is there something liberating in the process? You probably can’t do the amount of prep that you would.

ALWYN: Yeah, it was hard. At least at the beginning.

MESCAL: Was it just gut feel?

ALWYN: Yeah, and some conversations with Claire. Her way of shooting was so unusual. I can’t remember if I told you this before: She would shoot things out of order, even in a scene. It was very fragmented.

MESCAL: Disconnected and fragmented.

ALWYN: I think she feels things in an animal way and is piecing it together as she goes. And there’s no traditional coverage either. I wanted to ask you, thinking about Lenny and thinking about “Aftersun.” I absolutely loved it. And you’re incredible in it. With the space given to you guys to breathe in a room, and not stuff it full of exposition, and just have the camera rolling in a very real, naturalistic way, it felt quite Lenny-ish. Is that fair to say?

MESCAL: I think it probably is. It was directed by Charlotte Wells, who is going to be one of those directors that we’ll all be talking about. I haven’t come across somebody as assured as Charlotte.

ALWYN: Is that confidence in the script?

MESCAL: The stage directions are really confidently written. I don’t know about you, but I love acting in that space when you know that there’s a kind of theatricality to it, but the stakes are high. We only had Frankie for about four hours a day.

ALWYN: How old was she?

MESCAL: She turned 11 on set.

ALWYN: How much of that is improv?

MESCAL: Ninety-five percent of it is scripted, I’d say. The karaoke scene, for example, was just about getting Frankie comfortable with the idea that an 11-year-old who hasn’t ever acted before is going to have to stand up in front of a camera and an audience and sing “Losing My Religion.” And she does it brilliantly. In the rehearsal, the camera wasn’t working, and Frankie ingeniously went, “That’s OK. I’ll record it with my mind camera.” I remember turning to Charlotte like, “That’s the most brilliant line of all time.” Charlotte wrote it in afterwards. What’s a kind of ideal rhythm for you on set? Well, you’re just investing in Claire Denis.

ALWYN: And you know her use of bodies. There’s a sex scene in the first scene . Her direction was just like Francis Bacon.

MESCAL: Wow, just that? And, go! I’d like to get into that a bit, because obviously I think it’s fair to say we’ve done our share of intimate scenes. How did that experience on “Stars at Noon” differ from “Conversations”?

ALWYN: So different.

MESCAL: Yeah, really?

ALWYN: “Conversations With Friends,” there’s an intimacy coordinator. The scenes are spoken about. They’re rehearsed. Every movement is almost choreographed like a dance or a fight. And they’re quite blocked, even though there’s freedom within it. But I trusted Claire and I trusted the crew. And Margaret, obviously. And you feel safe within that. I think trust and feeling safe is the main thing.

MESCAL: That is the main thing, totally. But it is interesting, with that question, being it’s a hot topic in the industry. I think you’re right that you never want scenes around intimacy to feel stale. But ultimately they have to feel safe. And I think you can feel safe multiple ways, and that’s through trust.

ALWYN: Absolutely. I wanted to ask you, which is kind of off topic, but I remember us speaking before about anxiety and shooting and being able to get outside of anxiety in order to do the job. How are you finding that?

MESCAL: It’s that cursed feeling of, once you feel like it’s disappearing, it comes back and hits you like a ton of bricks. But I was talking to somebody about that. They said, “I don’t think it’s ever going to leave you, because it’s a personality type.” But for me, it’s trying to use that anxiety or fear or fear of failure — repurposing that to be like, “What I’m doing matters to me.” Might not matter to everybody, but it matters to me at that moment. How do you feel about that stuff?

ALWYN: It’s interesting and tricky. Because it gets to a point where there’s a degree to which nerves are completely inevitable and can also be helpful. But at the same time, there’s a danger — and I’ve certainly felt this in the last couple of years — where that can start to take away some of the pleasure and the fun of doing it. So recently it’s been a rethink: Going forward, just jumping in in the same way but caring less in the right way.

MESCAL: Talk to me a bit more about that.

ALWYN: Just trying to find a way to have more fun and sense of play.

MESCAL: I learned a huge amount from Frankie, because Frankie had never done it before and just loved acting. I feel like that’s a good instinct to have as an actor — to try and really get to the center of when you watch somebody act with abandon.

ALWYN: On “Catherine Called Birdy,” Bella Ramsey, who plays the lead, she was 17 when we shot it — probably 15 when she was cast. She’s just going for it. It was the first job I went back to out of COVID, and I remember feeling really nervous because I hadn’t done it for a while. And there was this world of masks. And Lena Dunham was having to direct on Zoom when I joined.

MESCAL: What is a Lena Dunham set like?

ALWYN: She’s a force. And full of energy, positivity, creativity. I think maybe also because she performs herself, she has a good understanding of what an actor might want. She really takes care of people. She will come in and tell you what she liked, or she’ll give you a thumbs-up. And, also, she’s just so funny.

MESCAL: Do you like auditioning?

ALWYN: I’ve come to quite like making tapes. It used to drive me mad.

MESCAL: I prefer being in the room, I find. I feel like my issue when I’m making a tape is that I have too much control.

ALWYN: Do you go on and on?

MESCAL: Yeah. And then it’s hour three.

ALWYN: You’ve got 50 takes to watch, and they all look the same.

MESCAL: It’s an absolute nightmare. What do you look for?

ALWYN: Erotic thrillers.

MESCAL: Same. •

#joe alwyn #paul mescal #interview #actors on actors #can't wait for the video !!!!