#and because I actually give a shit about the people coming here to fill their prescriptions

[kenzie-ann27]

meanwhile my experience with being asexual is just like. constant self hatred and apologizing about it

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[ladydreilgard]

Cannot even begin to describe how badly I want to just. Not go to work tomorrow. This pharmacy is such a fucking joke.

[l-sincline]

Random tmi rant in the hash of tags bc I’m sad ab it

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Okay, so here I go. (I’m sorry if words are misspelled or if I used the wrong words; I’m dyslexic but thank goodness for autocorrect. Sometimes it corrects it for me and at others it puts a completely different word then what I meant; so fair warning.)

So, I was wondering if it will be Ghost that cat reader opens up to about her fear of deep water. It was pretty obvious that she has trauma from it from that one time Ghost tried to give her a bath after she was done for the day doing her “mouse killing” duty; it is most likely a deep fear developed from trauma from being held under by an abusive old owner/partner.

Like yes, it’s obvious she irritates Ghost out of “spite” (and probably does it for shits & giggles on her end) but HE was the one she clung onto when it was made clear of her fear of deep water. She may have been terrified but she felt safe enough to hold onto him & allowed him to comfort her during that event; she cuddled herself under his head and tapped her head against his chest which are signs of trust for a cat.

Yes, she’s definitely more friendly & open to Gaz (first to earn that with her), Soap (second) and Price (third to earn the right to be comfortable with her) but what if it actually came down to core issues/serious concerns it’s actually Ghost she goes to. Mostly because she can tell that although they annoyed each other (not really but more just for loving fun) that they DO understand each other on a level that the others just can’t.

The other three are there for basically nap time together, to play with and being cute with; but it is only with him will she be THAT open with serious things/issues. For her, he becomes her special & only companion for those kinds of matters. (Which once he realizes that she views ONLY him as special/worthy enough to be open with stuff does he feel honored instead of annoyed about it. After all he was trying to make a connection with her and now he has a strong one that only he has access to; she won’t open up about serious stuff with the others in a way that she will only do with him.)

Basically is will be the bases/beginning for her to start accepting him as a comfort source/companion. Of course, she’ll still be a little brat/little shit towards him; but it will be out of good fun/love intentions behind it, no malice or hatred behind her annoyance towards him anymore.

Hope this helps you come up with an idea. ☺️

Oh, babe, you got my vision perfectly LMAO. (And no worries about your dyslexia, I understood you perfectly!)

CW: mentions of past abuse (and technically attempted murder)

I won't go so far as to say that she would never go to the other boys, but yes, she has an extra special bond w/ Ghost because they both understand what it's like to survive abuse--especially abuse at the hands of someone they should've been able to trust. It's also very much an "I hate you" relationship in that they only "hate" each other because of that similarity/understanding. We tend to be more critical towards people like us because of how we perceive ourselves; we are our best critics, after all.

In short, "canonically," reader got tossed over a bridge into a river when her past owner tried to get rid of her. Something along the lines of--she became too big of a burden. Being a birthday/Christmas gift, they didn't expect the true responsibility of raising a pet. The reason doesn't really matter, though; either way, she scratched her way out of the soggy cardboard box and dragged herself to shore, then made her way to the old abandoned farm nearby. Hence why she doesn't like deep water--especially not when someone is carrying her towards it.

But next time Ghost tries to clean her, he's learned his lesson. Fills a small tub just 2-3 inches high, and instead of casually tossing her in, is surprisingly patient as he places her back paws in first--letting her wade a few seconds before plopping her front feet in. She's still whiny, of course, used to washing herself, but with Ghost's help, he get's the places she can't reach. Not to mention that the shampoo he's using smells pretty good.

"Not so mean when your buttons ain't pushed, huh?" he sighs, only to add-- "Sorry 'bout last time. Should've respected your boundaries."

You're quiet for a little before bumping your head into his hand, as if in acceptance of his apology.

"'Sides, you've got your reasons," he goes on, moving to scratch under your chin as well. "And fear ain't your fault."

You meow in understanding, then blink slow.

"Ha--" He copies the blink back. "Think this is the nicest you've been to me."

The rest of bath time is quiet, save for the sound of you shuffling around in the tub in response to Ghost's ministrations. But just as he finishes rinsing you clean of suds, Gaz comes around the corner, ready to kick off his boots after a long day.

"See you're gettin' close with the kit there," he smiles, dusting his hands off in mid-air. And while you half-expect Ghost to respond with acceptance, instead, he mutters--

"What else am I supposed to do? She stinks."

Well, there goes the moment.

You swipe at his hand with a hiss, only to be met with his scowl and a towel that swallows you whole.

When you do eventually tell him--the reason for your fear, that is--it's after another bath, and when you're snuggled close under the weight of his arm. His hand cups the back of your neck, callouses almost silky from how he handles you oh-so gently. A tempered practice he's forced himself to learn since you met. Because though kindness doesn't come naturally to him, it doesn't unnerve you; sometimes you wonder if kindness, as a choice, is better.

"You know I--" he clears his throat-- "we'd never. Right?" Simon whispers, his voice as deep as the purr that eventually rumbles through your chest.

Your fingers dance through the fine blonde of his hair, illuminated only by thin streaks of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Then you draw your palms down, so instead, you're holding the sides of his face, the scars and marks of his beautifully imperfect skin like stories untold beneath your thumb. And you press your nose to his.

"I know."

(He may or may not run into your former owner eventually, and he may or may not threaten to kill him or worse. But that's a story for another day :D)

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[ennabear]

loser abby.. i beg and plead

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ 100% projecting here again because i am VERY experienced in being a loser lesbian… heh… i think loser!abby is more awkward instead of shy (it’s actually canon) so i’m sorry if this gives you a little bit of secondhand embarrassment…. (i swear hope it’s not too bad)

loser!abby who you first meet in the stadium library. you’ve had your eyes on her for a while, sure, but she never talked to anyone. you’ve heard through the grapevine that apparently she was single, but for someone who looks that good? you didn’t buy it.

you try striking up a conversation with her, just some small talk, but she completely dodges all of your questions about her personal life. instead, she talks your ear off for about an hour about the stadium’s dogs.

it’s almost painful, the way you nod and smile like you know what she’s talking about. like the epic time when alice ripped a chunk out of this big guys bicep, or when bear did a backflip for the first time during training. she doesn’t even notice that you’ve stopped paying attention, completely ignores every flirtatious remark with a “thanks! you’re too sweet.”

she stands up and leaves, saying “anyways, i’d better check on manny. catch ya later!” you sit and stare off into space for a few minutes. what the hell was that? she won’t answer questions about her workout routines or patrol routes, but she’ll sit and jabber about fucking dogs? and “catch ya later”? who the fuck says that anymore?

loser!abby who you see later that night sitting at a cafeteria table laughing and chatting with her friends. her hair is down for once, wet and slightly darkened from her shower. she looks like a fucking goddess like this. she could have any girl in this whole base on their knees in a second, if only she’d act like it.

you take a seat next to her, deliberately running your hands over her heavily muscled biceps. “hi!” she lights up. “i was just thinking about you.” this almost flusters you. almost. but you know she didn’t mean it in a flirtatious way.

abby’s friends are actually super sweet. they fill you in on any inside jokes you haven’t picked up on yet, gossip about stadium drama, laugh at cheesy puns, etc.

you’re having a great time until abby tells one of her own jokes. she’s laughing so hard she can barely get the words out, and what she manages to say is stupid and nonsensical. you look around at everyone in the group to see if maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t get it, but they have the same confused-but-pleasantly-humored look on their faces.

a few more months of this awful one-sided craving continues. well, technically it’s two-sided, but abby never shows it. how were you supposed to know?

she does countless more things to embarrass herself in front of you. some less embarrassing than others, like when she spilled an entire ammo box full to the brim with 1,000 bullets. and some more embarrassing, like when she got so drunk that she couldn’t walk straight, and it took 5 people to pick her up and haul her squirming body back to bed. in front of you.

but it’s all so adorable to you. the sweet pink blush that spreads over her cheeks when she realizes that she just ruined the mood for everyone. or the nervous way she twiddles her thumbs before each patrol, fearing she’ll slip up and never come home.

loser!abby who is completely taken aback when you cut the shit and admit that you like her. it goes something like this…

“o…kay? i like you too, that’s why we’re friends.”

“no, cmon, abby. you know what i meant.”

“you like me? like that? i don’t understand why.”

“because! haven’t you noticed me flirting with you for the past eight months? you think it’s normal for me to tell you that i’m in love with you? do your other friends do that?”

“well, no. but i thought you were just being friendly. and don’t you think i’m kind of an idiot? why would you wanna be with a loser like me when you could find someone cooler?”

“i don’t want someone cooler, abby, i want you.” and you smash your lips against hers before she can respond. she doesn’t really know what to do, she just leans in and let’s you take the lead.

when you pull away, she’s beet red. her eyes are huge and— is that a tear? your heart swells at this, grabbing her tightly and pulling her into a bear hug.

“i like you, too.” she says. “what does this make us?”

you smile and place a small peck on the tip of her nose. “will you be my girlfriend? or is that too friendly for you…”

[pjackk]

Extremley Urgent Action Needed

Hi everybody i hate to to it but im in a realy bad spot and ive been pretty much bummed out really badly lately and lots of people on here are actually being really bad to me constantly and telling me lots of mean shit all the time and im pretty much in a super bad spot because im mentally fucked up badly right now and the theres some some holidays and shit comign up and i dont give a fuck about heaven or hell cuz my life is fucked anyways and going to shit so i dont know how it could really get worst but i pretty much want to treat myself and practice self care by making the right choices for me and getting shit that i really want as a gift to myself since nobody else will ever get me free shit since im a societal freak and a piece of shit apparently and something i really want is a Cast Iron Money Man

So the great part about the guinness Stout moneyman is that on top of making me enjoy my life for once in my fcking life if i had him it would teach me how to save my coins and put them in a safe place so they dotn keep falling down the drain because whenever im counting my pennies and other brown or shiny colored coins its always in the sink cuz thats the only place not filled to the brim with stupid shit i keep finding LOL i keep finding shit on the ground and in the trash and its often interesting as fuck shit like a stick that would be realy goood for turning into a weapon if needs to be if i was attacked from every angel a great way to fight them and a perfect advantage to have is to have the range advantage so if the thieves and other bandits were coming at me with knives and shit i would be able to bash them with my stick and maybe break there bodys while im at it and i could legaly say i killed them to defend my self and all my other shit so anyways theres tons of shit everywhere and since i just throw away my dishes when im done with them because they are way to dirty and beyond even the level to get it cleaned no more cuz shit is dried on there and wont come off if i make it wet i just gie up so that means theres never shit in my sink exept for the coins when im counting them but the big problem is i dont have a money man made out of cast iron to keep my coins safe so they fall down the drain and when i try to pop them up by dumping oil in the drain and using gargage disposal switch it just crunches them up and shoots fragments into my glasses and always breaks my glasses so i always have to get new glasses since they are always breakign whenever i lose my coins but the big problem is since i dont have my coins no more since they all get all torn up and shit its super hard to afford new glasses or food at all even though i dont technicaly have to eat its always fun to eat yummy shit so please consider to send me money to help muy shit as fuck mental get better and invest in my prosperity i promise u it will trickle down to u and u will benefit from my well being im actually working on a new CD right now with dope as fuck music but its realy really hard to be creative when i dont want to get out of bed because im always hung tf over from drinking a shit load of top notch gin a the pub all night and feeling super depresed basicaly my Guinenss beer Shaped money man would be a perfect way to solve my problems let me know if u want to help by clicking the beer above and giving me money to spend on my cast iron money man

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[goquokka00]

The Little Things (Minho Ver.)

The small things he does every day that make you feel oh, so special.

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

| Cooks For You |

It's no secret that Minho can cook. And that he also enjoys cooking (at least I think he does). And so when it comes to cooking for you, he always will. It doesn't matter whether or not you know how to cook, too. He'll always be in the kitchen, making you something delicious to feed you.

I feel like there would be times where the two of you would cook together. Minho would give you a few tasks to do while he did others, and the meal created would be filled with love and would taste even better. But most of the time, if you offer help, Minho would deny it. Hell, I bet you $5 that he wouldn't even let you step foot into the kitchen, not wanting to take the risk that you might help him.

But you want water? Yeah, or you want water so you can add it to the rice cooker to get the rice started. You'd have to just ask him if you could have a glass of water from where the wooden floor met the tile of the kitchen. That way you wouldn't be threatened to have your mouth stuffed with tissues.

| Kisses the Boo-Boos Away |

I get this sneaky suspicion that Minho, who's usually a bit colder than the other members, is incredibly soft and mushy towards you. And that includes when you accidentally hurt yourself. You got a papercut, or accidentally got a rug burn somehow, or your hand is hurting from a pinched nerve, leave it to Minho.

He'll patch you up, and then kiss wherever you got hurt. Every single time without fail. If he wasn't around when you got hurt and saw you with a bandage somewhere on your body, or bruises, he'll tell you to sit down or go to him so he can kiss the area you got hurt.

Now, let's say you broke a bone or sprained something, or had to get surgery for whatever reason. Do you honestly think that would stop Minho? No. No, it wouldn't. He'd kiss wherever those stitches were, or plant plenty of kisses on the cast on your arm or leg or wherever. He just wants you to be okay, and know that he loves you.

| Holds Hands |

Whenever the two of you are out in public, Minho always wants your hand. He wants to make sure that you won't leave his side no matter what. And it doesn't matter where you are. Your hand is in his, period. You think it's letting people see you're a couple and it's a bit embarrassing to see all eyes on you? Good. They'll know who you belong to. Your hand is getting sweaty? Too bad.

I feel like Minho will also hold your hand if you're nervous. Mostly because I think that Minho is so used to dealing with Jisung when he's nervous and spiraling. He'll always give you his hand to hold onto so you can be a bit more grounded.

And if it's really bad? His fingers are intertwining with yours, baby (no because I'm actually a sucker for this shit like OMG-). He's keeping you close, squeezing your hand tighter, making sure that you know that he's here for you, and he's not letting you go until you're better.

| Spoons |

Spooning is SUCH a big thing with Minho. He loves holding you close and feeling your back up against his chest. Being your big spoon is so nice. He's fully aware that it helps you relax and makes you feel nice and safe. Though, I feel like Minho would also be the little spoon sometimes, too.

If Minho's had a tough day at work, let's say practice didn't go well, he's in your arms the moment he gets back home. He won't really talk, just hums and grunts while guiding you back to the couch. And then, the next thing you know, you're holding him to you.

It's just something about the way he can curl up against you, and feel your arms around him while you whisper kind words in his ear, kiss his head and the nape of his neck, even how your hands will go and find his, intertwining your fingers together. His cold facade just melts when you hold him to you. It's just...so easy to relax in your arms.

| Touching Foreheads |

I feel like touching foreheads with Minho isn't really something anyone would expect. But again, I stand by the whole, Minho's putting up this big guy act and then when he gets back to you he's a wittle baby, ordeal. And touching foreheads falls under that.

I think he'd do this when he's having a tough time. Like, if something happens, or if he needs to be serious about a hard topic to talk about, he keeps his forehead on yours. It helps Minho feel closer to you, and he can speak quietly and not have to worry about you not hearing him. And the same goes for you, too. He feels like it's easier to comfort you if something did happen.

But I also think that this is something he'd do if he had to apologize to you. It's more intimate and heartfelt to him. Let's say you both got into a nasty argument, and the aftermath is him going and staying at the dorms for a while. When he comes back, he's apologizing by putting his head on yours, holding you close, and speaking in such a soft but modest voice. And it warms your heart every time.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

[freedomfireflies]

Jealous*

Summary: The fourth part to 404*

The one where Harry's even more annoying when he's jealous.

But he's kind of cute, too.

Word Count: 5.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

(Note: This edit is not mine!! I believe the @ is on it, but full credit to the incredible creator! It's so perfect!!)

“Head back, tongue out.”

Quickly shifting onto your knees, you glance up at the man before you. Watching eagerly as Harry’s large hand strokes the hardened cock that lingers near your lips.

His other palm reaches out for your neck, slowly sliding up into your hair before tugging you back even further. “Like this,” he murmurs, only satiated when you oblige. “Good girl. Show me your tongue, Tink. Come on, not gonna ask you again.”

Quickly, you rush to obey, presenting it to him willingly as you scoot closer and silently plead for his offering.

He gives you a rare, pleased smile that makes your insides jump before he brings his cock closer to your mouth, tapping it twice. “Gonna swallow it all, yeah? Like a good little cumslut?”

Nodding fervently, your lashes flutter in a somewhat desperate attempt to coax him closer to release.

To this, he exhales an amused breath, smirk growing until you see that familiar and infuriatingly charming dimple. “You’re a lot less annoying when you’re desperate, you know that?”

You swat at his thigh. “Shut up and cum in my mouth already.”

“Eager, are we?”

“The fuck do you think? Just do it, come on.”

“See, there you go again. Don’t know how to romance a guy, do you?”

“And why would I ever want to romance you?”

He laughs and sweeps the tip of his cock along your bottom lip. “Because deep down…you like me. Don’t you, Princess?”

And before you can reply with another quippy retort, he’s sliding himself along your tongue, and filling your mouth completely.

It doesn’t take long for that warm, salty tang to go slipping down your throat. Effortlessly coating your taste buds as Harry tightens his grip on your head and releases a rather lascivious groan.

“Fuck…there you go, that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, using his other hand to brace himself against the wall to keep upright. “Take it…fucking take it, Tink, good. Feel so fucking good, don’t you? Such a tight little mouth, yeah?”

He’s babbling, a string of nonsense and praises falling from his tongue, but you revel in it. Indulge in the way you’re the only one on his mind, the only one to make him fall apart so quickly.

And you imagine you’d both like to stay here in the lobby coat closet for at least a few more minutes (or a few more rounds), but before you can entertain the idea, your phone is going off.

The shrill alarm cuts the moment in two, slicing it right down the middle as you pop off his cock and reach over to turn it off.

In turn, Harry blinks, breathing still a tad ragged as he steps back. “What…what is that for?”

“Oh, I have a meeting with Mr. Prescott in five.” You straighten up onto your feet and swipe the back of your wrist across your mouth. “This was fun, though. Thanks.”

Harry blinks. “Wow. Way to dine and dash.”

“Funny,” you snort as you head for the door. “Anyway, I think I’ll be good for a while, so…no need to keep dragging me in here.”

“I didn’t drag you,” he argues with a huff while yanking his jeans back up. “I casually suggested it and you jumped at the opportunity.”

“Mm…wrong.”

“Mm…right. Face it, Princess, you can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Actually, I think about everybody but you,” you tell him. “Seriously, just the sound of your name kills my libido. It’s quite sad.”

His eyes roll. “Fucking go already, I have shit to do.”

“Fine, but you have to wait at least three minutes,” you remind him as you slip out into the hallway. “I mean it. Cassie almost saw us last time and I was mortified. So be less suspicious this time.”

“Come on, do you really think I want people to know we’re shagging?” he retorts, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall in wait. “Getting seen with you at the bar was already bad enough.”

“Yeah? Is that why you stuck your hand down my pants in front of everybody?”

“Okay, you know what—”

“No, I don’t. Bye,” you call before swinging the door shut.

Harry’s muffled grumbling follows you all the way to the elevator.

You can’t help but grin as you step inside and hit the button for the fifth floor, flashes of his hands and practiced fingers flooding the forefront of your mind.

You might still hate him, but you suppose you don’t mind his company as much anymore. He’s not as irritating as he was when you first started this little arrangement, and you’ve noticed his technique has gotten better. He’s always been good, but recently he seems to be trying incredibly hard to make each time the best. 

Not that you’d dare complain. After all, it’s not like you’ve really—

“Wait, hold the door!”

Quickly, you reach out and press your palm against the sliding entrance, keeping it inside the frame as the stranger swiftly slides through.

You watch as he gratefully slumps against the railing, seemingly out of breath as he nods his appreciation and allows you to release your hand.

“Thank you,” he exhales, head dropping back against the wall as the elevator takes off. “Thought I was gonna have to take the stairs.”

“No problem,” you return before gesturing toward the buttons. “Which floor?”

“Fifth,” he answers, smiling when he notices it’s already been selected. “You, too?”

“Yeah, I work in the lab.”

Curious, the man straightens up. “No kidding. You’re one of the engineers?”

“Mhm. For about four years now.”

“No fucking way,” he replies, studying you with interest. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, actually. Pay is good, hours are better.”

“Ah, very nice,” he muses. “In that case, do you think you’d be able to show me to Prescott’s office?”

“Sure. I’m headed there now, actually.”

“Yeah?” His head tilts. “Wait, shit…you wouldn’t be working on the Keaton Project, would you?” 

Surprised by his knowledge on your current work, you blink. “Uh…yes, actually. How did you…?”

“I’ve been hired to help with your development operations,” he tells you. “Just for a couple weeks, see where you’re at.”

“Oh, that’s good. Harry and I could use the help.”

The mystery man smirks. “Good. S’what I like to hear.”

With that, the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open, allowing you and the stranger to begin down the hall and toward the main office.

After a rather interesting discussion with Mr. Prescott, you learn a bit more about Lucas, your new project partner. 

He’s incredibly smart and well spoken, he’s got some wonderful ideas for the website, and he’s absolutely going to drive Harry up the goddamn wall.

You’re practically giddy as you lead Lucas back to the lab to help him get set up. Already imagining the scowl on Harry’s face when he learns he’ll be sharing a space with someone else. Someone arguably much better suited for the position and with much fresher ideas. 

Unfortunately, Harry has already left for the day by the time you return. And while you’re somewhat disappointed that you’ll have to wait on the introductions, you use the rest of the shift to get acquainted with Lucas.

Turns out, he’s delightful, and you laugh harder with him than you have anybody else in a long time. He’s rather flirty, too, you notice, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to have such forward attention and you revel in his sneaky smiles and playful remarks.

You leave the lab that afternoon with a large grin, laughing when he calls, “Goodbye, Duchess,” as you walk out the door.

Come Monday morning, Harry is in a foul mood. You notice it before he’s even set foot into the room, the exasperated expression on his face visible from the parking lot.

He walks differently when he’s upset, you realize. With his hunched shoulders, clenched fists, and heavy footsteps that echo through the halls.

Everyone within a hundred-foot radius takes notice, shooting him odd looks as he strides by, but he pays them no mind. Instead making a beeline for his corner of the room where you reside before throwing his things down with a huff.

“Morning, Sunshine,” you call, turning in your chair to watch while he slumps into his. “What the hell is going on with your hair? It looks…well, like shit.”

A venomous glare is shot through the dark frames of his glasses. “Blow me, Princess. I’m not in the fucking mood today.”

“I can see that,” you reply calmly, hiding a smirk behind the rim of your coffee mug. “Hope you’re at least a little nicer to the new guy.”

Harry’s frazzled and irritated shuffling stills. “What new guy?”

“The new guy,” you say, nodding toward Lucas who’s beginning to make his way through the lab. “Prescott told you, right? He’s working with us for the next couple of weeks on development operations.”

Harry’s attention follows the tall, lanky figure as he moves between the tables, a frown beginning to form. “What the fuck?” he scoffs quietly but full of repulsion. “I’m sorry, since when do we need a fucking babysitter?”

“He’s not a babysitter, Harold. He’s just extra help—”

“We don’t need extra help,” Harry bites back. “Okay, I had it covered—”

“Clearly, yeah. Is that why the simulation kept glitching—”

“It wasn’t glitching, the code was just off. But I had it handled—”

“Sure, yeah. Obviously. That’s why Prescott hired someone else—”

“Duchess,” comes a new addition to the conversation, forcing you and Harry to lean back as Lucas approaches. “Hey, listen. Thank you again for showing me where to set up my shit, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you return with a smile. “Seriously, anything we can help you with, just let us know.”

He nods. “Perfect, yeah. Most of it is just working on the HTML, but eventually I’d like your input on the file transfer.”

Peeved, Harry’s eyes flitter across the man’s face. “Right. And you are?”

“Lucas,” he replies brightly, offering you both a charming smile. “Yeah, sorry. Met Duchess here the other day on the elevator. You must be…Harry, right?”

Harry’s eyebrows begin to weave together, broad shoulders straightening up ever-so-slightly. “Why the fuck were you in our elevator?”

“Well, Duchess was showing me up to the lab," Lucas says, nodding his chin at you while you share a smirk. "Helped me set up, which was really sweet.”

You wave the compliment away while Harry slowly turns to you and subtly mouths, “Duchess?”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Yes. Well. Anyway, Harry and I are really excited about working with you. Aren’t we?”

Harry merely returns your stare with a glare of his own before gritting his teeth. “Fucking ecstatic.”

If Lucas picks up on the charged air between you, he doesn’t comment on it, instead grinning again as he steps back. “Perfect. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

You nod. “Absolutely. Oh, we’re still on for lunch, right?”

“Of course,” he calls before returning to the hallway, leaving you with a very displeased partner. 

You blink.

“Lunch?” Harry repeats, almost incredulously. “You’re having fucking lunch with the babysitter now?”

You snort. “It’s lunch, not an orgy. Relax, Harold—”

“And what the fuck is with the degrading nickname?” he continues, nodding his chin in the direction Lucas disappeared to before nudging his glasses back up. “He sounds like a fucking twat.”

“For your information, Duchess means queen,” you tell him haughtily. “And I love it. It’s a lot nicer than anything you call me.”

“I call you the same fucking thing—”

“No, you call me Tinkerbell,” you correct. “And Princess. Which is nice. But Queen trumps Princess. Sorry.”

He makes another noise before spinning around in his seat, turning his back to you. “Fucking ridiculous. Fine, have your fucking tea parties and your fucking nicknames while I get some real shit done.”

“It’s not a tea party, it’s lunch—”

“Oh, my apologies, your Royal Fucking Highness.”

You smirk.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Got it stuck right up there. Poor thing had to go to the emergency room just to get it removed.”

Lucas laughs – a loud, infectious laugh – while glancing down at his plate with a shake of his head. “Shit. I bet he enjoyed that.”

“No. No, not at all,” you chuckle. “And he wouldn’t speak to me for about a week afterward. Honestly? It was the best week of my life.”

“I imagine.” He runs a long finger around the rim of his glass in thought. “So, he’s always been like that, then? Kind of…sullen? And moody?”

Smiling to yourself, you run through your memories of the brooding man you’ve known for years. Remembering the first day you met, and the way you instantly became enamored by those bright green eyes and chestnut curls.

“No,” you admit. “No, he used to be…fun. Nice. Shy, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he was…I mean, he was nervous, I think. It was one of his first jobs out of university, and I think he just wanted to do a good job.”

“Makes sense,” Lucas replies. “From what I’ve seen, he’s quite good at what he does.”

“He is,” you agree, almost begrudgingly. “Always has been, which is really annoying.”

He smiles. “So, what happened? What made him switch?”

You release a heavy sigh and shrug your shoulder. “Honestly…I don’t know. There was a bit of a dark period. He stopped talking to people, stopped going out. Got a motorcycle of all things. And then he just…wasn’t the same.”

“And he never talked about it?”

You snort. “No, Harry doesn’t…talk. About personal things. At least not with me. And asking never gets me anywhere.”

A quiet pause settles over your small table before Lucas leans closer.

“I think he trusts you, Duchess,” he says. “And I think he’s scared of how much.”

“That’s quite an observation from someone who just met him.”

“What can I say, it’s my superpower,” he teases. “But I mean it. His hostility felt…forced. Like he was putting up a wall to save face. And if he really didn’t like you…he wouldn’t spend so much of his time trying to be near you.”

It’s a nice thought. Sweet, even, and you’re almost tempted to entertain the idea.

But you know Harry. You know his cruel jokes, and his pensive demeanor. You know that he fucks to drown out the rest of the world, and that he’d rather spend the rest of his life alone than in someone else’s company.

So, you simply sigh, and offer Lucas another shrug. “Yeah, well. If that were the case, I’d hope he’d at least—”

“The fuck is all this?”

The two of you turn toward the sound of Harry’s huffed remark, smirking to yourselves when you see that familiar frown.

“Uh…lunch,” you reply calmly, raising an eyebrow. “Like I told you.”

Harry comes to a stop just beside the table, flicking his glare between you. “It takes you a fucking hour to eat?”

Your eyes narrow. “It hasn’t been an hour, and we were talking.”

“So you were wasting time?”

Lucas grins, and you catch the way he glances down at the table to hide his amusement.

You straighten up and direct your displeasure toward Harry. “We were not wasting time, we were eating and getting to know each other. Is that all right with you?”

“No,” Harry says simply, and it infuriates you. “You don’t get paid to talk shit.”

“We were not—” You suck in a sharp breath, silently commanding yourself to remain relaxed. “Do you want something?”

“Yes, actually. Prescott wants to see us.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Don’t know.”

You look to Lucas, confused and slightly annoyed while Lucas leans back curiously.

“I’ll come with you,” he offers as you both stand. “If it’s about the project, maybe I can help explain—”

“We don’t need your help,” Harry interjects bluntly. “And he didn’t ask for you. He asked for us.”

You shoot another peeved look his way. “Harry—”

“Really, it’s no problem,” Lucas tries. “I probably need to get caught up, anyway—”

“Then catch up on your own fucking time,” Harry nearly snaps, large hand outstretching to snatch onto your upper arm. “If we need you, we’ll ask for you.”

With that, he begins to drag you away from the table, leaving Lucas and his mystification behind.

Stumbling along, you begin to fight against Harry’s firm grip, already wildly annoyed. “What the fuck is your problem—”

“Your car is fixed, right?” is all he says, keeping his eyes forward as he leads you through the lobby and toward the parking lot.

You hesitate. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

“Where is it?”

Your lashes flutter as you look from him to the array of vehicles before you. “Um…there. By the tree.”

With a short nod, he yanks you forward, guiding you to your car without so much as an explanation. 

Still irritated, you slip yourself free right as he stops beside the trunk. “The hell are you doing—”

He opens the backdoor. “Get in.”

“What?”

“I said get in,” Harry repeats, “Duchess.”

You frown. “And why would I do that?” 

“Because I’m gonna fuck you.”

And you almost want to laugh because you can’t believe where he got the nerve. “You’ve got to be kidding—”

“I’m not,” he says, rather assuredly before guiding his glasses back up. “Get in.”

“Harry…this is so fucking—”

“Don’t care.” He nods his chin toward the backseat. “In, Princess.”

You reckon you should stand your ground and refuse him. Tell him how childish he’s being, how vulgar, how rude. Make it clear that he doesn’t get to stomp his foot and demand you do as you’re told just because he’s upset.

And yet…your legs urge you forward until you’re slipping inside the car and settling on the other side.

Harry follows suit, yanking the door shut to close out the rest of the world before facing you. “Take off your jeans.”

However, your expression is menacing as you begin to fumble with the zipper on your pants. “You’re so fucking pathetic, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he says simply, but he’s beginning to smile as he tugs off his own belt. “But I’m not as pathetic as whatever the fuck that was.”

“What was? A harmless, friendly lunch?”

“Please,” he snorts. “He was clearly flirting with you, and it was hard to watch.”

Your eyes roll as you tug your jeans down your legs. “He was not flirting with me, he was just being nice—”

“Guys aren’t nice,” he retorts. “Not for nothing. He wanted something from you, and I spared you from having to pretend you were interested. You’re welcome.”

“Oh, really? And what did he want? To fuck me? Like you so desperately want to do?”

He scoffs, but he’s smirking. “I fuck you to make you feel better.”

“Right, okay.” You wiggle your underwear down your thighs. “Who’s to say he wasn’t gonna do the same?”

“He wasn’t,” he replies simply. “Trust me. Get up.”

With a huff, you oblige, turning around so you can settle on your hands and knees while Harry gets situated behind you. Strong hands melding to your hips to keep you steady.

His fingers move to smooth between your cheeks and down to your cunt, stroking it softly to prepare you.

Then, he chuckles. “And who is this for, hm?” he taunts, dipping into your arousal to spread it around. Ignoring the way you inhale a sharp hiss. “Me or him?”

You brace yourself against the seat of the car, chin dropping to your chest. “Him,” you grit. “Obviously.”

Harry hums, thumbing at your clit. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, there’s a sharp smack to your left ass cheek that makes you reel, the pain instantly dissolving into pleasure as you whine. 

“Try again,” he tsks before slipping a practiced finger inside. “And this time…be honest.”

“I’m always honest,” you argue, already breathless from the feel of his touch. “How could it ever be for you?”

You can’t see him, but you imagine he’s smiling, entertained by your bratty behavior as he adds a second digit. Curling and pumping at a deliciously slow pace. 

“You’re right,” he finally answers. “You hate me. You’d never get wet for me.”

You swallow another noise. “Exactly.”

“And if I fuck you…you’ll moan his name. Won’t you, Tink?” 

“Yes.”

“Think about him the whole time. Beg him for what you think he can give you.”

“Shit—”

“Imagine his tiny, soft little cock. Too small to get you off. Probably wouldn’t even feel it, would you?”

He’s cruel. Sadistic and outrageously annoying. But he knows exactly how to play you, and you damn him to hell for how well it works. 

He reaches around your body to tug your shirt up, pushing it over your tits until he can take a nice handful.

You love his hands. Love the way his skin feels against yours. The way he tweaks your nipple and rolls it around.

“Like that, don’t you?” he coos, the rhythm of his strokes through your pussy ever steady. “Know you do. Cause I know your body, Princess. Better than he ever will.”

You try to ignore the pleasure that ripples across the deep of your stomach, keeping your focus on the stitching beneath you. You hate when he’s right.

Suddenly, and without warning, he rips his fingers out, leaving you empty and dripping while you groan.

“Easy,” he tuts, now tugging his cock free. He shifts some, propping his leg up onto the seat while his other foot remains on the floor. “Gonna have to be quick, aren’t we? Since you wasted so much of our lunch break with him.”

You exhale a scoff at this, glancing back just long enough to glare.

He grins.

“Stay still,” he instructs, dragging the tip through your folds. Spreading you gently and moaning when he sees his cock glisten with you. “Just like that, s’a good girl. Gonna make it better. Gonna fuck you right.”

The first push in is heaven. It always is, and you aren’t sure why. Like adding the final piece to the puzzle. Complete, in a sense.

Your nails curl into the seat below, a futile attempt at finding some stability as his thick cock stretches you open. 

You hear him hiss through gritted teeth, his hands once again finding your waist to hold you in place. “Breathe,” he suddenly calls, smacking your leg once. “You’re not breathing.”

“Sorry,” you gasp, forcing air back into your lungs. “Don’t…don’t know why I do that.”

He makes a small, entertained noise before allowing you a moment to adjust. “Feels that good, yeah? Do I take your breath away?”

“Blow me,” you retort, but you can’t help smiling. 

Finally, he settles himself all the way, sinking into your warm cunt rather comfortably as you both release sighs of relief. 

“There it is,” you hear him murmur, his fingers curling into your side before he pulls back. “Okay, easy. Easy, Tink, yeah? Shit—”

The rapid but hard pace is addictive. Perfectly full and pleasurable with each thrust and snap of his hips against your ass. 

Despite the somewhat small space, Harry finds a way to bend your body to his will. Keeping you below him as he drives himself faster and faster. Uncoordinated and unrhythmic. He’s merely chasing the feeling, chasing the way your pussy pulls him in. Clenches around him, soaks him, keeps him warm.  

“You know what?” he suddenly seethes, surging forward until he finds a new angle. “I think you were right…think you should have gone with him.”

You want to respond – want to make any other noise besides these strained whimpers, but it’s useless. Your voice forming around his name yet again as your toes curl.

“You were better before he came along,” he says, hand coming down to slap against your ass. The sound echoing around the tiny constraints of the vehicle. “Tighter. Needier. So fucking easy.”

Your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back. He’s feeding into the part of you that likes to be degraded, and you feel a chill dance down your spine.

“Did anything I fucking wanted. Took my cock like a good girl,” he continues. “Let me stretch you. Let me train you. Break you. Have my fucking way with my fucking pussy. Behaved so well for me.”

Another spank is had to your tender skin, and you cry out as you bury yourself into the seat below.

“Now, well…now you're just useless to me. Aren’t you, Princess?” His movements get sloppier. Faster. “Now you waste your time with him.”

In any other moment, you’d refute his comments. Play his game, egg him on.

But in this moment – a moment where your singular focus is him and only him – you find that you can only shake your head quickly and with misery. “No. No, just you.”

You hear him chuckle, and it makes a new wave of arousal rush between your legs. A type of praise you thrive on. “Just me, huh? But you’re not my whore anymore, are you? You’re his—”

“No,” you whimper, writhing when he reaches down to press his fingers to your clit. “Yours…you…only you.”

“I don’t know, Tink. Seemed awful smitten with him. Same way you used to be smitten with me—”

You can do nothing but whine pitifully as you push back into his touch, ass raised and spread in front of him.

Another smack ripples across your cheek before he kneads the flesh with his free hand, circling your clit with the other. “What? What do you wanna say, baby, hm? Wanna beg me to let you cum? Is that what you want?”

You try to nod, but your cheek is pressed firmly to the seat of the car. 

“I know you’re close,” he murmurs, shifting some so he has a better position to fuck himself into you quicker. “God, you’re so fucking close. Can feel your pretty little walls clamping down on me. You’re fucking shaking, baby, come on. Come on, let go. I’ll let you cum. Go ahead.”

To accompany his instruction, he begins to rub the sensitive nerves in a harder fashion. Pressing them down as he forces your body to comply.

It happens all in the same moment. There’s no time for preparation or warning as you release a strangled gasp that disappears into his equally fervent moan.

Instantly, he releases your clit to take hold of your hips with both hands, and slam his cock into you – sheathing himself completely as he releases his load.

It’s familiar and incredible. The car is hot and filled with the sounds of your ecstasy. You’re drowning in it – drowning in him. In the way he makes you feel, in the blinding pleasure that still travels down the back of your neck all the way to your toes.

It’s deep and it’s full and it’s endless. One of the best you’ve had, and you can’t help but smile as you work to catch your breath.

You begin to slump forward as Harry chases after you. Slipping his arm beneath your stomach to keep you upright and turn you toward him as his cock slips out. 

“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, glancing over the part of your face he can see. “You all right? You breathing?”

You nod weakly. “Mhm. M’good. So good.”

You catch his soft smile. “Good.”

He reaches for your panties, gently dragging them back up until they settle around your hips. Keeping what’s left of his cum inside of you.

“Just in case Lucas gets any ideas,” he teases, shooting you a wink before helping you sit up. 

You both begin to wrangle your clothing back on, redoing belts and buttons as you work to catch your breath. 

Oddly enough, Harry doesn’t rush to exit the car, and you find yourself somewhat surprised. Instead, he merely readjusts his glasses, runs a hand through his hair, and slumps back against the seat.

And for some reason, the sight of his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils makes you grin. And you find that you can’t resist moving closer and crawling onto his lap.

Once you’re straddled across his thighs, you dip down, and take his lips with yours. Kissing him hard and with everything you haven’t been able to give him before, ignoring his look of his surprise. 

But he kisses you back, exactly the way you knew he would. Taking hold of your body once more to keep you close.

Tongues and teeth clash – it’s messy and rushed, yet effortless and easy. And you can’t help but smile giddily as you tug on his bottom lip.

When you finally pull back to breathe, Harry is wearing a similar expression, seemingly dazed and amused as he holds you on his lap.

Chuckling, you swipe your thumb across his mouth. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

He nips at your finger to make you squeal. “I know.”

A quiet moment settles then as you study him, feeling entranced and relaxed by the soft green behind his crooked glasses.

With a gentle smirk, you push them back up, and whisper, “Were you really jealous?”

His snobby scoff makes you laugh. “I was not fucking jealous, Tinkerbell. You just don’t know him.”

“Neither do you,” you retort. “He’s really nice. He just wants to help.”

He groans again, letting his head drop back. “For fuck’s sake, Princess. You’re so goddamn trusting—”

“Yeah, I am. After all, I trust you.”

His eyes fall to yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles again, and you feel your heart flutter. Reminded yet again of the way things used to be – a time before the hostility and angry comments.

You think back to what Lucas said. His inquiry on the shift, and while you’re sure nothing good can come from your prying, you find yourself asking, “What happened?”

Harry blinks. “What?”

“To you. To us, I guess,” you ask, growing oddly nervous under his confused stare. “When you first started, you were so…nice. And happy. And sweet, even.”

His expression falls, settling into a chilling frown.

“And then…I don’t know, something happened,” you continue, now a bit quieter. “You changed, you got…angry, and tense, and you just…you hid yourself away, you know? And don’t get me wrong, I like bickering with you, I just…I guess I’ve always wondered what…went…wrong?”

You feel him tense beneath you. The way his hands tighten and the way that soft green turns into a raging storm of indifference and spite.

Almost within the blink of an eye, he disappears into another version of himself. One that refuses to participate in this discussion and one that desperately wants to remove himself from you.

You can feel him slipping away. Can feel the drop in your stomach – a pit a mile deep. Normally, you like to piss him off. But this is different, this is…this isn’t what you want.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing once. “Why does it fucking matter?”

“I don’t…I guess it doesn’t,” you stammer, shrugging once. “I just wondered, is all. I don’t mind, or anything, I just…I was thinking about it—”

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know. Lucas asked, and I thought—”

“Lucas?” It’s a venomous scoff that makes you jolt. “Let me guess. He was just trying to help—”

“No, he just…he asked what you were like, and I said that you…you—”

“I what?”

“That…fuck, I just said things used to be different,” you huff, but your cheeks feel warm. You’re embarrassed. Disappointed in yourself for pushing. For ruining the first calm moment the two of you have ever shared. “And it made me think about it, so I…I wanted to ask—”

“Well don’t,” he seethes, releasing your waist as if trying to get away from you. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“I know,” you agree, sliding off his lap to give him a bit of space. “I know, I’m sorry, I just…I thought maybe I could help.”

He shoots you a look that splits right through you. It’s cold and it’s incredulous and it makes your throat run dry. 

“Why?” he says again, studying you closely. “Why the fuck would you want to help?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure. “I don’t know. Maybe because there’s a part of me…a very small part…that doesn’t totally hate you? I guess?”

You wince as you say it. You hate the way it sounds. Hate what it implies because you do hate him. 

But not enough to leave him when he needs you.

Harry’s lashes flutter at your response, and he watches you for a moment more before he leans back, and his expression twists.

“Yeah, well…it doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, almost to himself as he reaches for the handle on the door. “So don’t fucking worry about it.”

Confused and somewhat dejected, you lean forward. “Har—”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“…what?”

He sighs, looking down toward the floor. Refusing your eye. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t…I don’t want to do this. With you. It’s too fucking…there’s too much extra shit. All right, it was fun, but I don’t…I’m done.”

There are a hundred things you want to say. A hundred excuses, a hundred pleas, a hundred retorts.

But none of them feel fitting as you watch him push the door open and step out. 

He hesitates, almost as though expecting you to stop him. To argue and call him back.

Yet you don’t. Because you know that nothing you say will ever be able to change his mind.

He’s already decided.

“Fine,” you whisper, offering a short nod. “Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.”

He looks at you. Finally. Expression filled with a solemn sort of goodbye before he nods as well.

And the door slams shut.

Next Part:

~ Always*

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~ SnakeBite*

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[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Lizards

Benny x Lu full blurb

Without thinking, because she is twenty four now and has been to the beach and has swam with friends and has lived a life, Lu shucks her dress, her shoes, her slip and dives into the lake, nylon undergarments ruined and only just sufficient to be considered a covering. It’s fine, it’s normal, she comes up to the surface and she knows, somewhere far back in her mind she knows, her chest and its scar is visible but it doesn’t matter. The sun is bright, the water is reflecting so strongly she has to squint and through it all Benny is tossing his hair out of his eyes and laughing between puffs of exertion at treading water. He is laughing at having jumped in, at the fact she went for it, too. It doesn’t matter that her body is on display, as a gruesome curiosity or an incitement to desire.

She is swimming with Benny and it’s all just fine.

It makes the moment so utterly enjoyable Lu feels like all her longing to be out here, to be surrounded by this big vast world— it’s been close to right, very near what she’s needed, it’s just made a little better with him and that’s unfortunate as he lives in Chicago. Benny shouldn’t be in the city, he should be in a sparkling lake with minnows assaulting his feet and diamonds of water caught in his lashes.

They’re laughing at each other, so much so they’re close to drowning, and they don’t have to say why. It’s perfect.

She could count each of his lashes as she swims around him, so close and so circular she’s half minnow herself, Benny’s eyes don’t leave her face and he’s stopped laughing enough to look mildly wary at her antics. She’d like to count his lashes, she realizes, she never really thought of how many there were, distracted perhaps, by his beard at other times.

Back when he had a beard: she knew that about him. Back when she stuffed cardboard into her brassieres: he knew that about her.

She keeps circling him and can’t make any progress on counting his lashes because he begins to laugh again, but it’s short and aggravated and she waits for him to explain it, she knows he will.

“What’re you, half mermaid?” there’s quashed competition in his voice, he’s betrayed at her leaving off their giggle fit to actually swim.

“You sure aren’t.” she laughs back, his neck is almost fully in the water, “Those big strong shoulders can’t hold you up? Am I going to have to tow you to the rock?”

Benny takes the teasing well, his face clears if anything, quick to laugh at himself. “You’ve got an advantage, you come here a lot. I’ve been rottin’ in the city.”

Lu gives an approving nod at his conclusion, it aligns with her own. “Yes, so you’ve gotta fix that. You should come out here more often.”

He doesn’t need to come here. Here with her.

There’s all manner of woods and water and nature just outside his stupid city but that’s not an option somehow, not with the way he’s here with her when he could be in the woods with Jack or out on a boat with Maureen. He chose here, instead.

“Yeah, I should.” Benny just agrees because they don’t have to say all that, say that it feels right and different. It just is for now and they can let it be.

She watches him lay back in the water, floating along with the gentle ripple and his ears are below the water and his eyes are on the big blue sky above them and Lu thinks that’s a perfect idea so she floats back too, staring at the sky they once knew so well, wondering if he misses it like she does- in a way that’s half agony of separation and absolute terror of ever being made to reunite with it.

Bucky doesn’t get that; he’s still flying.

Ida and Gale would still be if their governments weren’t so shit to them.

Jack never wanted to but he’d done it for the country, for his people, because it was right. From how often Benny and Jack see each other, like they’re dosing each other up by sheer proximity, Lu guesses they shared that singular motivation.

She turns her head, one ear clogged and filled with water, her other cheek so far into the lake it’s almost lapping up her one nostril; but she can see Benny floating near her, he has his eyes closed.

He gets it, she thinks, heart so full she could cry from happiness for once.

“-don’t you want to fall asleep like this?” she wants to ask him, says it aloud only because she knows his ears are under the water, his face doesn’t even twitch, his eyelids are smooth without a crease of a squint or a frown around them, his nose is ever so gently upturned and Lu wants to place her hand under his head, keep him like this forever, let him enjoy it like she does, “You could, I’d keep you up, make sure you don’t drown.”

When Benny turns his face to her she blushes hot even in the freshwater lake, he looks like he’s caught her at something she shouldn’t be doing, a chiding look of kindness but it reminds her she shouldn’t be treading water and staring at his face like she loves him. If only he could see himself. He’d understand it then. Anyone would.

It’s Benny. And it’s perfect and before he pulls his head up fully he lets himself sink a little and does a slow lazy flip in the water and she feels him tickle her foot on the way back up.

It’s much the same laying on the toasty flat limestone rocks on the lakeshore. Benny and her, burning their backs on the rock, tender bellies getting scorched by late afternoon sun, underwear drying out as crispy as the grass. He’s got his eyes closed again, lashes fanned out on freckling cheeks. And Lu is watching him once more and thinking how much she’d like to be a couple of lazy lizards with Benny.

She snickers at the thought.

“What’s that?” he hums.

Lu shakes her head, disbelieving that she’s about to embarrass herself like this but at least he still has his eyes closed, “I was thinking that we’re a pair of lizards.” And that she’d like to keep being a lizard with him and have a lizard family.

Benny doesn’t laugh at her, his nose crinkles in a mildly disgusted way but he looks like he’s gotta agree despite it all, she feels so fuzzy by that. “I think my back is gonna stay on the rock when I sit up.”

The clasps of her bra are digging into her spine but, otherwise it’s burning and fabulous and she wants to stay forever. The look on his face, lazily tilted towards hers on the rock with his eyes half masted and open, agrees so eloquently Lu wants to— she doesn’t know. So she settles with reaching out and resting her hand on the browned meat of his pretty shoulder. Benny’s eyes droop further and they chide her ever so gently for the fire it ignites in them both all at once, and Lu would love to be two lizards and stay here forever.

[werepuppy-steve]

i keep thinking about that one bachelor au post so here's my take on it (i've never watched the bachelor or bachelorette so bear with me)

the bachelor au where steve's the bachelor and eddie is a contestant, but not because he actually wants to be, he's just in it for the paycheck. robin is also a contestant but only because her parents sent in her application without her knowing and she isn't out to them yet.

they both think that steve is overrated and definitely over hyped. typical rich kid with enough money to buy people's love, yada yada.

until they both start going on dates with him and then realize that it isn't exactly true. yes, he's rich, but he's also kind and funny and actually genuine once you get past the mask he puts on for everybody. eventually, eddie and robin find themselves looking forward to their dates.

only robin doesn't want to date him. he's slowly moving his way up the ranks to becoming her best friend, sure, but this is still tv. she's still expected to kiss him and confess her feelings for him. and when the time comes for her to do that, she can't.

they're in venice. steve is leaning in and robin is very aware of the cameras filming them. the back of her neck goes cold and her stomach churns and suddenly she's running in the opposite direction. her italian is passable so she ends up getting a taxi back to the hotel production put them in.

she locks herself in her en suite and presses her forehead against the cold porcelain. she doesn't know how long she sits there until her phone buzzes and she checks the notification. the nausea rises up her throat again. she forgot she gave steve her number.

there's a knock on her room door and another text.

r u ok? can i come in?

robin debates it but figures she owes him and explanation. she lets him in and they sit on the bathroom floor. robin tells him why she's on the show in the first place, about how she didn't know her parents signed her up until she got the phone call from the casting director. tells him that even if she gets kicked off, she can still use the money for her student loans.

she stares at the water in the toilet bowl when she comes out to him.

steve is quiet, processing, before he laughs. he's not laughing at her, he promises, but "robin. you're on a show with more than a handful of other queers, you know that, right? i'm bisexual."

and yeah, robin knew that, but it's different when you're not into the guy you're supposed to be romancing at all.

steve reassures her that it's okay, and that he still hopes they can be friends and keep in touch after the show ends.

robin would like that.

she apologizes to the production crew the next day and they're understanding and steve and robin get a re-do of their date. it's much more genuine this time, filled with laughs and digs as they eat gelato along the river and people watch and gossip.

it's the best robin's ever been on.

eddie, on the other hand. he's absolutely head over heels for steve, which is surprising even for him. he's trailer park trash, he's got absolutely nothing on steve harrington. not the name, not the money.

hell, the very first day, he insulted the guy's food choices right to his face without knowing it.

eddie wants the earth to give way underneath him and swallow him whole.

he plays it up on their first date, all fake niceties and empty smiles, until steve tells him point blank, "the guy that said the buffet was shit that first night? i want to get to know him."

eddie's flabbergasted.

steve opens up about all the fake people in his life, the ones who just take advantage of them and use him for their own gains. the ones who don't even bother to get to know the real him. the one that likes to play guitar and hang out with the gaggle of teenagers that follow him around all the time for some unknown reason.

he tells eddie about what he wants to do with his life, not what someone else has planned for him and eddie falls deeper and deeper.

this time, when steve leans in for a kiss, eddie doesn't shy away. their lips press together and it's the best goddamn kiss either one of them have ever had.

the show has a deadline, of course, and steve can't just spend all his time with eddie and robin. there are other contestants. robin knows her rose is strictly platonic and steve has already called her multiple times freaking out about his growing crush on eddie. she knows eddie has this in the bag.

the final night comes and the contestants have dwindled. there's only a small group of them left: eddie, robin, and another guy and girl they didn't bother learning the names of.

when steve chooses eddie after a moment of dramatic silence that kind of puts his own dm dramatics to shame, eddie doesn't hesitate to jump in steve's arms, wrap his legs around his waist, and plant a sloppy one on him right in front of the cameras.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

ARLT GIRL I HAVE A REQUEST FOR CLARISEE‼️

OK SO CAN YOU DO LIKE A ATHENA!DAUGHTER!READER WHERE MOST PEOPLE ASSUME THE ENTIRE ATHENA CABIN IS JS BORING ITS ALL NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC AND BOOKS

AND THEN WHEN THE READER AND CLARISSE JS LIKE KINDA STUMBLE APON EACHOTHER, CLARISSE JS ASSUMES THE READER IS VERY FUCKING BORIJG BECAUSE THEYRE A CHILD OF ATHENA

AND RHE READER TRIES TO KIND OF CONVICE HER THAT SHE ISNT BORING AND ALL

(and pls a lil make out im begging you😔)

(also i love your work stay strong girl‼️🔥)

RAHHHH‼️‼️‼️

Let’s give this thing a try

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of Athena! Reader

Pt 1 — pt 2

The big house was quiet. Quiet was something you had to fight for, being a demigod your life was always chaotic and well noisy— so when you wanted to actually spend some time reading you would make arrangements to spend time in the big houses libary.

That’s how you now found yourself sitting in the library’s floor with multiple astrology books open around you and a note book filled to the brim with your findings

You heard the door open behind you, you looked back and saw clarisse standing in the door way with a few books in hand. Confused you raised an eyebrow studying the beautiful girls collected face. “What’s with the books?” You asked.

At first she didn’t respond, only setting them down on a chair. “Chiron asked me to leave some books here.” Her tone flat and uninterested, in the pile however you noticed a book about the stars that you had been searching for for hours.

You practically ran across the room grabbing the book like it was going to disappear. You looked down smiling at the cover— your excitement was innerupted as clarisse scoffed.

“I swear only Athena kids get off on this shit.” She rolled her eyes while turning to leave.

“Excuse me?” You spoke harshly.

Clarisse let out an irritated sigh. “What?— did I stutter I said Athena kids are the only people I know who can actually enjoy crap like this” she gestured her head towards the mess you had made earlier. “All you guys are the same boring blueprint of your mom”

“I’m not boring” you let out a scoff like laugh. Setting the book down on a table you crossed your arms not wanting to stand down from where you were.

Clarisse raised an eyebrow, it was clear she didn’t believe you. “Know what fine” you walked towards her. “Come here tomorrow midnight and I’ll show you that I’m not boring”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I can get you out of whatever trouble your in with Chiron”

There was silence for a moment until clarisse rolled her eyes once more, threatening you to make it worth her time before actually leaving

———

You laid face down in your bed with Annabeth standing near by. You screamed into your pillow fustrated “and who does she think she is! I’m not boring she’s suc—“ you continued to complain until annabeth stopped you

“And Why do You Care what she thinks?” Annabeth sighed while sketching on a map of the forest, making plans for the upcoming capture the flag game.

You kept quiet.. annabeth turned in her seat looking over at you, her sharp grey eyes analyzed you until you knew the secret was you. You groaned in you pillow while annabeth sighed. “Her?! Really.. y/n there’s so many better options here but her your really gonna go with her?” She scolded you.

“Look, It’s.. fuck ok she’s really pretty and her being a bitch is attractive sue me” you rolled over in your bed embarrassed. Annabeth shook her head in disapproval. “Besides your not so innocent I see how you look at the son of Poseidon, uh Percy right? Yeah how does mom feel again about you fraternizing with the man she hates son”

She threw a pillow at your head in response. You just held the soft fabric close wondering how the hell you were gonna survive clarisse, you didn’t even like her that much

…

..

You did like her that much.. fuck

———

You sat in the big house looking out the wall length window admiring the stars. You had a telescope set up propped outside the window with a few books opened around you. Annabeth so graciously and forced helped you set up a cosy scene with some blankets and pillows.

You wore a cute form fitting black jumper dress with a light blue camp sweater underneath and a white ribbion in the back of your half pulled up hair. But this wasn’t a date. You had to constantly remind yourself that you were just proving you weren’t boring.

In mid thought you heard the libary door open, stepping in clarisse wearing some red plaid pj pants and her normal orange camp shirt. You felt your voice get stuck in your throat.

Clearing your throat you patted beside you. “Common”

“This looks boring I’m going back to my cabin”

“Dude”

Clarisse rolled her eyes and sat down— only there because you could get her out of cleaning the big house which you found out was because she may or may not of broke a kids jaw.

There was uncomfortable silence, it clear she was just trying to psyc you out so you would call quits but being the stuborn girl you were you refused.

You saw a shine in the corner of you eye making your face light up. “Look” you smiled. Clarisse groaned as she moved over and looked into the telescope. “It’s a meteor shower”

“I’ve been studying the stars for years but recently I’ve noticed a shift in some of the stars usual locations, see a meteor shower happens when the Earth passes through the trail of debris left by a comet or asteroid, As a comet gets closer to the sun, some of its icy surface boils off, releasing lots of particles of dust and rock—“

You had to stop yourself from continuing, proving you weren’t boring didn’t include you yapping about stars. The shower ended quickly and which was normal for a small storm like that one. While clarisse continued to look at the sky however You put a hand on the tool.

“Right here” you shifted it, you showed her the Aries constellation. “There’s Aries, and that red circle underneath it is mars” shifting the telescope some more you continued to talk “and there is the great square of Pegasus”

It was still quite the only round being the creaking from the telescope. You pulled away fiddling with your hands. “I—“

“It’s cool” clarisse mumbled “i guess” she looked over at you from where she was laying. Your cheeks flushed from the sudden compliment. “I still think your boring though spending all your time reading in here, but this” she titled her head more toward the window “this is all right”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not boring”

“Mmhm” she sat up stretching as she did.

The two just sat there looking at eachother. You now taking the chance to really admire the girls features with the only source of light being the moon. “Your hair.. I like it, the way you style it and keep your curls in such good condition… it’s pretty”

“You can touch them if you want” her offer took you back, but you didn’t deny her. You reached out and touch her soft hair wrapping a curl around your finger. “Your hair smells like fruit punch” you giggled.

“Thanks?” She laughed softly, her hand now tracing gentle circles on your thigh. You could tell she liked the jumper dress on you, making your heart beat faster.

You leaned closer to clarisse nervous you read the situation wrong. Your lips were close just barley brushing against eachother.

You felt your heart start to race, you’ve kissed girls before but something about clarisse made you nervous, nervous like you wanted to run away but excited like you needed more.

Clarisses hand trailed up your body and found its way to your waist, she gently pulled you forward finally kissing you. The kiss was short repeating a few times adding a sense of hesitation.

You felt clarisses Hands squeeze you lightly as you both looked into each others eyes. Your left arm was now around the girls shoulder with your other hand keeping you up for balance.

You moved you hand to her hair before leading her in for a more passionate kiss. It was immature and inexperienced but needy. Clarisse Bit You bottom lip making you moan allowing her to move her tongue into the mix, you moved while kissing her to sit on the girls waist.

You both fell now with clarisse laying on her back and you pinning her down, both panting while looking deeply into each others eyes. You kissed her again with a sense of urgency.

Whines and soft moans filled the air as you kissed. Clarisses hands finding themselves under your tight jumper dress resting on the sides of your thighs while you had your hands held the girls face.

Pulling away you hid you face in the crook of clarisses neck allowing her to shift positions around now with her on top, trailing kisses down your cheek jaw and neck.

She pulled back panting. “How far are we going” her eyes meeting yours.

“Only.. only this” You whispered, clarisse nodded before kissing your neck again while softly nipping leaving dark hickeys.

——

The following morning you had to hear a long lecture from annabeth about the marks on your neck and the new found relationship between you and the daughter of ares

Annabeth - shes a terrible Person

Y/n - now it’s suddenly a crime for a woman to have a personality?

—

Go look at this persons post about Palestine and aid links

[typicalopposite]

I have actually never really sent a prompt to anyone . So idk how much to ask for or how to really give one . But I guess some idea of

118 responding to a horrible bar fight and they find Tommy seriously injured. Buck sees the guy who did it at the scene and he gets furious.

Idk if I asked right lol

Here you go <3 I hope you like it!

(gonna kill two birds with one stone here)

Fuck It Friday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard & @nine-one-wanton & @lavenderleahy love you all! thank youuu!

(TW: homophobia and racism)

Buck tries to hide just how many times he pulls his phone out, opens the screen and checks to see if Tommy is typing again. He keeps it down by his leg, turns his back to the rest of the team, even hides out in the bathroom a couple times just to stare at the spot where for such a brief moment Tommy was considering saying something… but then changed his mind. 

It’s late and he’s laying on one of the top bunks, eyes fixated on the screen, when Eddie pushes the door open. “Come on Buck…” he sighs. “You gotta give it a rest, man.” Buck tightens his hand around the phone, anticipating Eddie trying to snatch it away again, but he doesn’t. Instead he slumps down to the bottom bunk and goes quiet, leaving Buck alone with that very minimal advice and still no more bubbling. 

The bell rings just as Buck is starting to doze off. 

A bar fight; a bad one at that. They arrive on the scene and Eddie pulls the ambulance up and parks it right behind the engine. The customers are scattered all around the dirt lot, some talking to each other, some on their phones, some talking with police. Bobby said Athena was the first to arrive, but she’s not outside so Buck assumes she’s in the bar talking to the owner. 

One of the bartenders directs them towards a guy sitting hunched over on a bench, holding his face. Eddie goes to him and Buck follows, while Hen and Bobby head inside to where people are saying the more severely injured victim is— or maybe it’s the perpetrator… they aren’t exactly sure what even happened yet. Eddie starts on cleaning the man’s busted brow, and examining the black eye already forming around it. Buck pulls an instant cold compress out and offers it to him for the swelling. All the while the man drunkenly rambles on about how the owner has let the place go to shit… letting just anyone in. Not caring about the patrons who funded them for years with their business. 

Buck listens to his hate filled tirade, but only partially, also tuning in to a server who is telling Athena’s new rookie about what happened. How the guy Eddie was working on had antagonized the whole thing. She seems extremely worried about the other guy taking multiple kicks to the stomach and to the head. “He wasn’t even bothering anyone,” she says, voice shaking from crying. “He was just talking to Darlene about—” she pauses and gives a soft tearful laugh. “Well, he kept calling him ‘his Evan’. But he was so sad because he said he wasn’t really his anymore.” 

It was as if all the sound around him vanished, and his feet were moving before his brain could register where they were going. 

A hand on his chest stopping him from crossing the bar snaps him out of it; it’s Athena. She’s wearing that stern Sergeant Grant look, though it’s fraying around the edges with worry. “Is it him…” Buck starts, looking past her to where Hen is knelt down. Athena purses her lips, furrows her brows… and nods. Buck sucks in a sharp breath and tries to bypass her— he could easily bypass her if he wanted to, but he won’t. He allows her stiffened arm pushing against him to hold him back. “H- How bad is it,” he asks, fighting back against the tears rushing to his eyes. 

“He’s pretty banged up, but he’s in good hands,” she gestures back towards where Hen is working feverishly over— over Tommy. Buck feels like he might pass out. Athena moves so she is in his line of view, and his focus is back on her, then gives him a sympathetic look. “Now I need to go out there so I can arrest the man who did this… soon as Eddie is done with him; and I need you to try to stay calm and not do anything… rash.” 

Buck clenches his jaw, looking over her once again towards Tommy; he can barely see him for the tables and chairs, and multiple first responders hovering around where he’s sprawled out on the floor. 

Athena squeezes his arm and he reluctantly follows her to stand outside. “Just wait here, okay…” she says, before walking over to Eddie and the man who hurt Tommy— his Tommy. He glares over towards them, his blood is boiling. He clenches his jaw tighter, gritting his teeth together. 

The guy looks up at Athena as she starts explaining that he has been identified as the perp, and she is arresting him. Before she can begin reading his rights, though, he leaps up— eyes bulging, lips pulled back in snarl, a finger pointing angrily right in Athena’s face. “I’ll be damned if I’m getting arrested for this; for– for doing a public service,” he spits. Athena stares at him, unfazed. “Besides, he attacked me!” The man gestures towards his face.

“He did not!” The server snaps back. Athena offers her a smile, putting a hand up for her to not argue with him. 

“I see what he did to you, and after the story I heard— about all the things you were in here ranting and raving about, with your chest puffed out like you're some big man just ‘cause you’re supposedly brave enough to say the all hateful things on your mind— hell, I can’t say I would have blamed him for doing more.” 

The man sneered, but stepped back. “Yeah, I figured someone like you would sympathize with someone like that. I guess I might as well chalk this up to being demonized for being the normal one.” 

“I’m sure you demonized yourself, all by yourself,” Athena says with an eye roll. She shoves him around and handcuffs him. “And I’m sure you’ll easily demonize yourself among your fellow inmates as well… though I highly doubt you’ll get lucky enough to get the upper hand again.” 

She grabs his arm and leads him towards her patrol car, passing Buck while keeping a good distance from him. It doesn’t stop the man from looking over and catching Buck’s name tag. “Buckley…” he says, then chuckles. “As in Evan Buckley…” he throws his head back and fully laughs. “So you’re the one he was in there sniffling over like a poor love sick fa—” Buck is charging at him before he can finish the slur… they can fire him for it; who cares. He is stopped by Eddie, and held back long enough for Athena to get the man in her car. 

Eddie loosens his hold and Buck shoves him the rest of the way off, then turns towards the bar. He can hear Eddie calling after him, he just doesn’t care enough to listen to anyone on what they think he should do anymore. Right now he just wants to see Tommy. 

“Buck,” Bobby says, moving towards the door as he comes in. Buck walks past him, shying out of the way of the hand reaching for his shoulder. He pushes through the people, and reaches Hen just as they are getting the gurney lifted up onto its wheels. 

He sees Tommy. 

His shirt has been cut open and dark bruises are covering his torso from the man’s boots. His arm looks broken. His face— Buck sucks in a sharp breath— his face is unrecognizable. He wants to run to him, but he can’t move. 

The jolt of the gurney locking into place causes him to stir. He groans and lolls his head to the side. “Easy there, Tommy.” Hen says, gently laying a hand on him so he doesn’t move. 

“H- Hen?” Tommy turns his head towards her, but both of his eyes are so swollen and completely shut. “Oh god… Ev— B- Buck… he’s not here, is he? I don’t want him to see this…” His lip trembles and it takes the broken pieces of Buck’s heart and grounds them to dust. 

Hen looks at Buck, and Buck shakes his head. “No, he— he was man behind for this one,” she lies. “He’s not here.” 

Tommy breathes, it comes out haggard. “I– I’m so stupid, Hen… I- I was so scared and I hurt him. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to; I didn’t want to. ” Hen looks over the gurney at Buck. Buck still can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t breathe. “I- I need to tell him I’m sorry. I was going to text him but— I can’t do it over a text…”  

Hen encourages him to lie still, and save his energy. “You’ll get the chance to tell him Tommy,” she says, flicking her eyes to Buck. 

“I– I love him, Hen… I want him back…” 

Buck’s heart clenches; it feels like it's being ripped straight out of his chest. “I know you do,” Hen says softly, still looking at Buck. The gurney is taken away, towards the ambulance. Hen lags behind, walking over to Buck. “Well…” she says, offering a smile. “There’s your answer.” She rests her hand on Buck’s back and leads him out of the bar towards the ambulance. 

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE WAIT FOR THE FIRST RACE

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. the waiting time between pre-season testing and first race is being filled

content warnings. the girls (men) are fighting and y/n gets a reality check

notes. another chat chapter because you guys liked it lol

george russell Welcome, @/oliverbearman and @/ynstark to the main Grid Chat. I will add you to the other ones as well.

daniel ricciardo WELCOME!!! We're so happy to finally have you here

Also, @/kevinmagnussen, welcome back you ass

Don't leave any groupchats again, it's a pain to add you back

george russell Considering I have to do the work, you're not allowed to complain Daniel

lando norris booo, let him have the fun

nico hülkenberg Oh no, it starts again. I'll mute you asshats if you don't stop this

lando norris you're just boring

oliver bearman thank you guys! very happy and honored to be finally part of the big guys 🫣

y/n stark thank you, george! and i'm excited to officially meet you all, until then, hello :)

charles leclerc Hello y/n, welcome to the grid! I hope you'll enjoy your stay here 😉

y/n stark thank you charles, i'm sure i will lol

kevin magnussen I swear I will block you all

daniel ricciardo Don't be like that, you love us

y/n stark lol, he actually hates you guys, won't stop whining kevin magnussen One day, young lady, one day... y/n stark y'all hear sum? charles leclerc Gagged. lando norris charles???

carlos sainz Can you guys just shut up for once, dios mio.

charles leclerc Aww, Carlos, you love us! carlos sainz Debatable. Sometimes I wish you would all crash and not survive to be honest oscar piastri We get it, you're an asshole carlos sainz Fuck off Piastri oscar piastri Right back at you Sainz

lewishamilton welcome to our new rookies! ollie, awesome to see you again, y/n, don't be a stranger, we haven't talked in ages!

y/n stark lew!! we defo have to, gonna hit you up for fashion show for sure, pepper has been planning something pierre gasly Lew 👀 y/n stark look who's here... the tripod.... pierre gasly Yeah yeah, shutting up. Welcome to the grid y/n y/n stark thank you pierre

sergio perez Welcome, rookies.

max verstappen From me a welcome as well!

esteban ocon Welcome, welcome!! This is so exciting, I've been waiting for a long time now 😋😋

lance stroll Estie??? esteban ocon Shht, Lancey, let me cook lance stroll 💀💀💀

lance stroll Anyways, all of them are idiots, as we already know, welcome to hell, y/n

y/n stark aww, thank you lance. so sorry you have to go throught this 🫂 charles leclerc We're not so bad?? lewis hamilton Well. charles leclerc Oh come on Lewis lewis hamilton I didn't say anything

fernando alonso Stark and Bearman! Welcome to the coolest people on the paddock 😎

oliver bearman thanks fernando! y/n stark thanks nando 😎

alexander albon Hi guys, so nice to see you finally in here! @/georgerussell you took your sweet time man

george russell You be Head of the GPDA then. alexander albon No thank you, I'm fine 🙃

logan sargeant Welcome, welcome, happy to see some new faces!

oscar piastri They're finally here. Welcome back Ollie and welcome Y/n to this shit hole

lando norris you know what osc? oscar piastri No, and I don't care. Save the talking for the track lando norris you do know i'm still zak's favorite driver? i could get you fired oscar piastri Please don't. charles leclerc This is what you get for lying in an interview. No groupchat with all of us is ever formal oscar piastri This literally isn't about you Charles charles leclerc Boo, you hater

y/n stark @/kevinmagnussen i see what you've said now...

kevin magnussen Never ever doubt me again, I've been with those fuckers for years now daniel ricciardo Hey!! That's not nice yuki tsunoda you know what else is not nice ricciardo? daniel ricciardo Yuki, drop it. Team orders are team orders yuki tsunoda i don't give a fuck old man, you behave like a bitch you get bitch behavior max verstappen Drop it or else I'll involve Helmut. yuki tsunoda fuck you dan-cocksucker max verstappen Yuki. We don't carry out team issues to the grid. yuki tsunoda he started first and i have proof daniel ricciardo I don't know why you're being so dramatic, it was only testing yuki tsunoda i give you dramatic you fucking asshole. you know what you did and i stand by my statement that this was a total asshole move. just because you got a big smile doesn't mean you're fooling everyone fucking ass george russell I will both kick you out if you don't drop this immediately.

carlos sainz And it starts again...

valterri bottas You're all children. Stop it

y/n stark so pierre was right huh 😀

kevin magnussen I told you so. pierre gasly Why am I getting involved in shit again?

zhou ganyu I apologize for their behavior. Y/n, Oliver, welcome to the grid, I'll be excited to race you both!

kev

are they actually children because wtf did i just witness.

Yeah... I told you drivers are dramatic. Well, most of them and other's are just their victims. Of course we have our moments and friendships but it's a ruthless sport

man tf. literal man children. i'm so glad i have you as a teammate kev. like seriously. i don't know if i could survive with someone like daniel or carlos

the passive agressive vibes <<<<

that's just not it tbh

I have no idea what you just said but I agree. Daniel and Yuki are not good teammates, it was already bad last year and now this.

To be honest, Nico and I often missed stuff like that since we were stuck at Haas and the upper dogs never really showed interest in what we thought or did but everyone knew what happened between them

pls don't tell me they have a clique here... oh my god and i thought the rumors were false

I mean.. not really but also kinda yes? Better drivers stick together since they're always spending time together, you know. No one cares about the ones who're limping behind, well besides Pierre and Esteban, but they're only kinda involved because they're close to Charles and Lance. And Lewis and Fernando aren't really on their level, they keep to themselves

why are men problematic

not you obvs, but like... jeez really felt the love here when we got welcomed

Welcome to F1 kid, it's a shithole

thanks, it's so lovely here

dad?

i think it's worse than we thought

Honey, what are you talking about?

everything. you should see the group chat with the drivers right now. i thought people were joking about f1 drivers being bitter and bitchy towards each other, but there are literally groups and alliances or whatever the fuck is going on there

and if that's only the drivers... i don't want to know how the teams are

Oh.

but also like, what is that going to stop us? we made plans, we know what to do but dear lord are men stupid. well not all but most of them. i literally had to watch how yuki and daniel were fighting because of a team issue in the GROUPCHAT with all drivers

and when max told them to drop it, he got called a dan-cocksucker, can you imagine??

everyone seems to know why they're fighting besides me and ollie, i knew there was tension in alpha tauri but this?? it's a new level of what the fuck is going on here

Are you alright?

i am

just

yk had to tell someone who's not kev since he has been involved in this forever and is used to it. but i still thought

well idk what i thought, maybe i'm just stupid for my wishful thinking

should've known all of this was pr and that most rumors are true. it will make our lives a bit harder

Don't worry, no matter what they throw against us, it's no alien invasion. They're just whiny little men after all and I'm literally Iron Man

i know dad

love you. and thank you

Of course, anything for you

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ARKHAM MAID 2024