#baby beej boi

[imagination-phantom]

It’s ok to have a moment~

*Cries* I can’t he just he needs a friend. I volunteer as tribute!!!

Then like a second later he’ll make a sex joke an I’ll smack him upside the head. And everything will go back to normal everyday bullshit.

Today’s Wip bam boom alakazam!

^^^ lol that joke old yet?

[theswedishpajas]

So I finally watched The Bad Guys today

[remyfire]

Me: I could advance through the series again

Me, corrupted by the nefarious Red: Or I can watch Deluge and Life Time AGAIN

[kittievampire]

Hello! Found your page recently and kicked myself to send in due to mammon and beel brainrot .-.

Anon because the filth req makes me shy lmao

Some ideas for ya (f!mc)

- 69 with Beel, but he's gagged with cloth, poor baby can only use his hands and whatever bit of tongue he can get out

- Exhibitionism and teasing from Mams (Cockwarming at the casino? Fingering on The Fall dance floor? These sound like bad porn titles oops)

- Beel wants a subtle spread leg MC dessert under the table at dinnertime (big hungry demon can't stay quiet and the other brothers def notice)

Also - folks HC that Mams would be too posessive to share MC but imo he'd prioritize MC's pleasure above anything soOoo..

- Sub mammon tied up and only getting kisses/ hj from MC while Beel hits it from the back

- DP with greedyboi and hungryboi (who prefers pussy/ ass? Writer's choice!)

- Beel gets a meal *cough pussy*, while Mams gets a beej

- Overstim feat. both of them, greed and gluttony means orgasms til they're satisfied. Get wrecked mc.

I feel both of them have a praise kink? Both giving and receiving. But this might just be me wanting to give the good boys a treat

*This turned into a long brain dump sorry lol feel free to take or leave any prompts :') My brain is now free and I pass the rot to you

Hoooollllyyyyy

Damn

I just

Damn

Yes

YES

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Warnings: Smut, Switch!Fem!MC x Switch!Beelzebub x Switch!Mammon, Dacryphilia, Bondage, Overstim, Oral (f. receiving), Gagging, Concealed!Public Sex

Enjoy, you horny fucks.

"How you holding up, Beel?"

You gently stroked his large, hard cock with your small, soft hand, placing little kitten licks against the tip that was drooling with precum. His length was coated in your saliva as a result of you happily gagging and drooling all over it when it was in your mouth, as well as the stimulation you were getting from the Avatar of Gluttony's fingers.

You were so cruel.

When he tried to muffle a response through the red cloth that you'd shoved into his mouth, you couldn't help but giggle. You didn't even need to look at him, you could just tell that he was obscenely drooling at the sight of your cunt. You moaned, not only at the feeling of his thumb circling your clit while his fingers thrusted knuckles-deep into you, but also at the thought of how he looked right now.

Were his eyes blown out?

Did he look ready to pounce?

How was he still keeping himself together?

"D-Don't worry, baby, just a little while longer, I promise." You'd said that many times over, and yet, you still haven't given him the privilege of ravaging your pussy like the starving glutton he was. You felt him inch close to your opening and pressed your tongue and lips against his cock, sloppily kissing and drooling all over it once more. "The m-more you struggle, the more time it will take for you to taste me, Beel," You cooed, pushing yourself down against his fingers, earning a lewd squelch sound and for some of your juices to land on his face.

He groaned, and you could hear a low rumble in his stomach.

"Almost done, Beel, promise."

To be quite honest, talking to his opponents, playing poker, and trying to keep you quiet was a lot of work. You were planted on his lap, cock pushed past your folds and the tip snuggled against your cervix.

"Royal Flush, baby! Looks like ya better cough up!" Mammon exclaimed with a snarky grin on his face, bouncing his leg, which caused you to move up and down on his cock. You blushed, biting down on your bottom lip to hold back your noises.

Thankfully, his opponents were too drunk to notice your reaction to his movements. "G'dammit. Double or nothin'!" One of the demons said, to which Mammon threw his head back and cackled.

You almost let out a whine, knowing that one more game means more time that you'd have to sit there and warm his cock, nothing else. Mammon leaned forward, lips close to your ear so he could whisper ever so quietly, "Ya heard that, Treasure?" He gripped your thighs tightly, making sure you wouldn't move. "One more game, yeah? You can last for a while longer, can't ya?"

You shuddered.

Your pussy was aching to be thoroughly fucked, and at this point, you wouldn't care if he bent you over the table. But you didn't want to disobey him.

Your walls clenched around his cock and he grunted. He pecked your cheek. "Good girl," He cooed before turning back to face his opponents.

Beel completely caught you off-guard.

You honestly didn't expect him to grab your thighs from under the table and push them apart, nor did you expect for him to be under the table in the first place. You looked down, eyes wide in shock as he pulled down your panties. He looked up at you and smiled sweetly before attaching his lips to your cunt.

It was all happening way too fast, and you were at the table having dinner! With his brothers, no less!

You nearly choked as you felt him drag his tongue lazily over your folds, a shudder running down your spine as a dark blush formed on your face. You clenched your teeth to suppress a gasp, covering your mouth as your eyes darted over toward the brothers.

Thankfully, Mammon was causing a bit of a ruckus at the dinner table, so none of their eyes were on you at the moment.

Beel's grip on your thighs only tightened as you squirmed, shoving his tongue into your cunt, groaning softly as he got a taste of your walls. You muffled a whimper into your hand as you closed your eyes, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit to further stimulate you. He wanted the sweetness of your release, and he wanted it as soon as possible. The lewd slurping against your cunt, as well as your soft whimpers, only made it through your fuzzy head when you looked up to see six pairs of eyes staring you down.

I'm gonna go ahead and make the three-ways in a seperate part. I'll link it once it's posted, but I hope you liked it, anon!

Masterlist

[soullesscinders]

Hawkeye, oh, Hawkeye

"We're gonna lose him, Beej. I don't wanna lose him." Doctor Benjamin Franklin Pierce mumbles in his sleep, a moment before waking with a start. Drenched in cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in his bed.

He looks around his room. He's home. He's not in Korea anymore. Hasn't been, for the last few years.

Korea never left him, though. Not really. Three years' worth of meatball surgery, taking the mangled body parts of children and turning them into somewhat functional, removing enough metal from seventeen-year-old boys to make a Studebaker, enough lead to poison anyone.

Dr. Pierce left Korea. Korea will never leave him. No matter how many years he spends treating warts, mumps, measles... Run of the mill, every day illnesses he used to yearn for.

Crabapple Cove, ME. The picture perfect New England town he was raised in, and now takes care of.

No one has called him Hawkeye since he left. His dad slipped, a few times, after he came home. He stopped after the second time, when Ben snapped at him.

"I left Hawkeye in Korea, dad. Enough." He stated firmly, his eyes hard and cold, as he had been when he was in constant survival mode.

The senior Dr. Pierce... didn't recognize his son, his *baby*, anymore.

"Alright, Ben. I'm sorry." He said softly, a genuine apology from his father. That almost made it worse. Hawkeye just left.

On the way to his position as an attending cardiothoracic surgeon at a nearby Maine medical center, he hears it again.

"Hawkeye?" It's BJ.

Suddenly, Hawkeye is back in Korea. Putting the ruined shreds of teenage boys back together after the North Koreans and Chinese have done their best in turning them into ribbon-

"I don't know who you're talking to, but it's not me." Ben replies coldly. BJ doesn't know what to do with this.

"Whaddya mean, Hawk? It's me, it's BJ- I- I told you, I'd see you, back in the States-" Hawkeye cuts him off.

"I'm not Hawkeye. I haven't been since we got out. I'm not Hawkeye anymore. I'm Ben. Doctor Benjamin Franklin Pierce. Doctor B.F. Pierce. I'm not Hawkeye, and you need to leave." He states firmly, and walks away before BJ can get in another word.

Ben left Hawkeye behind, in Korea.

Korea never left Hawkeye.

Korea will never leave Ben. Not for as long as he lives.

[Inspired by @obliviousmelon's post]

[bjfinn]

SPORES

(from an idea by @the-silly-station)

"Never Gonna Give You Up" by Pete Waterman, Larry Stock & Matthew J. Aitken, ©1987 All Boys Music Ltd., Sids Songs Ltd., Mike Stock Publishing Limited

"Why do I have to take another shower?" Beej protested. "I already took one just last week!"

"And now it's time for another one," Barbara said. "You know the rules: if you want to live here with us and the Deetzes, you need to shower once a week minimum."

"I never agreed to that!"

"Yes, you did! Now get in the bathroom!"

"No!" the demon scowled, crossing his arms defiantly. "I'm not taking a shower, and you can't make me!"

In reply, Barbara took hold of his ear and twisted it.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!" Beej yelped as she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom. She kicked the door shut, locked it, and released him.

"Get undressed," Barbara ordered.

"I always knew you had the hots for me, Babs," Beej said, rubbing his ear.

"Now!"

"It'd be more fun if you joined me." She raised her fist threateningly. "Okay, okay! Getting undressed now -- see?"

He took off his jacket and tie, carelessly tossing them aside.

Barbara, frowning, picked them up off the tiled floor and hung them on the doorhook. "You really should take better care of your things," she said.

He shrugged off his suspenders and removed his shirt, and then he looked at her pointedly. "A little privacy here?"

"Seriously??? " She turned around to stare at the wall while he removed his trousers.

"Okay," he said. "You can turn around now."

Barbara did her best to keep her eyes on the demon's face -- Beej was like a horny teenager, and she knew what she'd see if she looked down.

She turned him around to face the shower. "Get in!"

He did as instructed, pressing himself against the wall furthest from the showerhead. She reached in to turn on the water.

"No, don't! " he yelped. "I mean, just give me a minute to prepare myself, okay?" He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, then several more. Finally, his eyes still squeezed shut, he nodded. "Okay, I'm ready."

Barbara turned on the water.

Beej whimpered, twisting, trying to get away from the water.

"Every single time," Barbara sighed. She took a washcloth, wet it under the flow, squirted it with body wash and handed it to her friend.

Slowly, reluctantly, Beej rubbed the soapy cloth over his body, still keeping his eyes tightly closed, his face a mask of disgust and misery, his hair light blue tipped with white.

"Don't forget to wash everywhere," she said, not unkindly.

"I KNOW, BARBARA!" he yelled through the tears.

Barbara was glad that he always kept his eyes shut while showering -- it hurt her to see him in such anguish. He had a real fear of water, especially showers.

"Why do you hate showers so much?" she asked him. "I mean, you like rain, right? And the ocean."

"It's different," he said. "The rain feels different -- I can't explain it. A shower ... it's like the water's tryna hurt me. But rain feels like it's my friend. The ocean, too. I know it doesn't make sense -- but that's how it feels."

Eyes still shut, he handed her the washcloth and took the bottle of baby shampoo she gave him in exchange.

"Do your hair," she said gently, "and then it'll be over and we'll get you dried off, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

*****

When Beej came out of the shower, Barbara put a towel over his head, and he started rubbing it furiously against his scalp. Once his hair was only damp, he moved on to the rest of his body, turning his back to her -- after showering, the demon was always unusually modest, as if he felt exposed and vulnerable only when he was clean.

As he dried himself, Barbara noticed a small laceration on his back -- it was on the right side, just below his ribs.

"What's that scratch?" she asked.

"What scratch?" Beej asked, turning around comically as he tried to get a look.

"This scratch -- right here." She touched it gingerly.

"Ow!" he yelped, flinching as if she'd poked him with a sharpened stick. "That hurts! And not in a good way!"

"Sorry, sorry," Barbara said. "It's not very big -- maybe half an inch? But the area around it is red, inflamed. If you were human I'd think it was infected."

"That's silly," Beej scoffed. "I'm a demon, remember? Demons can't get infections."

"How did it happen?"

"I don't know," he replied, sounding perplexed. "I didn't even know it was there till you touched it."

"Lemme get you a band-aid." She went over to the medicine cabinet and took out the box of band-aids. She put one over the wound. "This'll help keep it clean."

"Thanks, Babs -- uh, Barbara. For everything. You're a good person."

*****

The next morning, Barbara asked Beej to show her the wound.

"Any excuse to see me naked, huh?" he smirked.

He turned his back to her and lifted his shirt. Gingerly she peeled the band-aid back and exposed the scratch.

"How's it looking?"

"Well, it's closed up," she told him, "but it still looks inflamed. Shouldn't it have healed completely by now?"

"Should've, yeah. Don't know why it hasn't."

"Maybe you're still a bit weak from the fight with Juno," she suggested. "Let's put a new band-aid on it for now -- I'll keep checking it every day, okay?"

*****

Delia was worried -- Beej was acting strangely, even for him. Her attempts to help the demon deal with his issues (his many, many issues) had been going so well, and the hobbies his found family had been introducing him to were allowing him to channel his hyper-chaotic energy into less destructive areas, but for the past few weeks she'd noticed a change. He'd become more sullen, more troubled. And the others had started to notice it as well.

"Do you feel guilty about finally destroying your mo- Juno?" she asked him.

"What? No!" he scoffed. "No way -- she deserved it! No one threatens my family and gets away with it. No one!"

"Are you sure? It would be perfectly normal -- she was still your mother, after all."

"She wasn't my mother," he said. "She was a breed sow, nothing more. You're my real mom -- you love me more than she ever did."

"So what's bothering you, BJ?"

He shrugged. "I -- I don't know ... I just feel ... off, somehow. I can't explain it."

"Is there something we can do to help?"

"I don't see what," he replied.

*****

"What's going on, Beej?" Lydia asked.

"Whaddya mean?"

"You seem ... I don't know -- kinda down lately. Like something's bothering you."

She took his hand. "You know you can talk to me, right? If something's going on? I'm your friend -- maybe I can help."

"I'm okay," he said. "Really. Nothing's going on."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Okay, well ... if you ever need to talk ..."

"I know," he replied. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Thanks, but really -- I'm okay."

*****

That night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, Beej lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes -- most of the time -- he liked to share the Maitlands' bed, with Adam on one side and Barbara on the other, but lately he just wanted to be alone. And that bothered him -- he hated being alone, always had.

*****

A week later, the scratch still hadn't healed. It had remained closed, but it looked like it was getting worse.

"I don't like this at all," Barbara said. It's even more inflamed now -- and what are these little bumps?" She peered at the wound closely. "They look like ... like they're under the skin ..."

"It itches," Beej said, and reached around to scratch.

"Don't," Barbara told him. "Don't scratch - it might make things worse."

As she watched, a couple of the bumps pushed their way through the demon's epidermis. Tiny white spheres, each atop a slender white stalk.

"What are those?"

"What?" Beej said, alarmed. He tried again to see what Barbara was talking about. "What are they?"

"Does it hurt?"

The demon shook his head. "No, no pain -- it's just ... itchy. Uncomfortable. Whaddya see?" he asked. "What are they?"

"I don't know," Barbara replied. "They look like ... mushrooms."

"Mushrooms?"

"Enoki mushrooms, to be precise." She touched the tip of her finger to one of them, and it flinched. "Did you feel that?" she asked.

"Feel what?"

She frowned. "Okay, so whatever they are, they're not part of you. They're just ... growing in you."

*****

The next day, Beej's back was covered in the bumps, and a lot more of the... mushrooms had broken through his skin. Barbara made him wear a pair of rubber gloves, to stop him from scratching.

"Don't take them off," she instructed him. "Scratching spreads the infection."

"You're not the boss of me," he grumbled, but he did as he was told.

*****

Another week passed. Beej was surlier, more suspicious, more prone to sudden outbursts of rage than even when they'd first met. He was also zoning out more often, as if he was on autopilot.

There was no doubt about it -- Beej was getting worse.

"I think the ... infection is affecting his mind," Barbara said.

Lydia nodded. "He snapped at me this morning -- like a ... rabid dog, almost." She put her hands over her face and took a long, ragged breath. "I'm really worried."

*****

"How can this be happening?" Adam asked. "He's a demon -- how can he be infected with something?"

"It must be a Netherworld infection," Lydia replied. "Maybe he got it when we ... sent him back, and it's been incubating all this time."

"Whatever it is, wherever it's from, it's getting worse," Barbara said. "It's affecting his mind more and more. If it is from the Netherworld -- and it must be -- any cure will be there."

"Even if we can find a cure," Adam asked, "how do we give it to him? Like Barbara said, it's affecting his mind -- I don't think he'll be a docile patient."

"And I don't think we'll have much time before ... before he's past curing."

"So first we have to figure out how to trap him and keep him trapped," Charles said, "and then one of us has to go to the Netherworld to look for a cure. The question is, who?"

"I'll go," Lydia said.

"No!" Charles replied. "It's too dangerous!"

"I'm the only one who can go," she told her father. "If Barbara and Adam go, they won't be able to come back. If you or Delia go, you'll get lost --"

"You could get lost, too," Delia pointed out.

"Yeah," Lydia conceded, "but I spent more time there than any of you. Besides, I'm the strange and unusual one, remember?"

Charles shook his head. "I don't like this," he said.

"Lydia's right, Charles," Delia told him. "She's the best equipped to do this -- she's seen more of the Netherworld than you have. Lydia is Beej's only hope."

For a moment, Charles looked as though he was going to continue arguing against the idea, but then his shoulders sagged. "All right," he said. "I still don't like it, but you're right. Lydia will go to the Netherworld to find a cure."

"I'll be okay, Daddy," Lydia said. "I promise."

"Okay, so ... now that that's settled -- how do we trap a demon?" Adam asked.

"A salt circle," Delia said suddenly.

"A what?"

"A salt circle -- salt is purifying. He won't be able to escape a salt circle."

"You're forgetting one thing," Barbara said. "Beej can eat food with salt on it. And he went in the ocean at the beach. I don't think salt'll work."

"Oh, you're right," Delia said, nodding dejectedly. "What about silver?"

"He has that silver ring," Lydia reminded her. "The one he says he got from Rita Hayworth 'as a token of her undying love'." She smirked at the thought.

"And iron won't work -- he's used my cast iron and stainless steel skillets," Delia told them.

"Holy water?" Adam suggested.

"He says it stings a bit, but that's all," Lydia replied. "All we need --"

"Water!" Barbara exclaimed.

"The ocean, remember?" Lydia was getting exasperated. "And he likes rain."

"I know, but he hates showering -- hear me out," Barbara said. "What if it's not actually the water that he hates?"

"No," Adam replied. "It's being clean."

Barbara shook her head. "I don't think so -- afterwards he doesn't rush to get dirty again."

"Where are you going with this?"

"What's the difference between shower water and rain? Or the ocean?" She paused, waiting for a response. "Oh, come on, you guys -- it's chlorine! That's why he said the water in the shower feels like it's trying to hurt him -- it's chlorinated!"

"So we need a ... circle of bleach?" Delia asked.

"No," Adam said suddenly. "Not a circle, exactly -- a moat. We can build a moat, fill it with bleach and trap him inside it!"

"First of all," Charles said, "where are we going to build a moat?"

"Guys! Listen to me!" Lydia said, completely exasperated. "You're all overthinking this! Beej is a demon -- all we need to trap him is a pentacle! We draw one on the floor and get him inside it -- he won't be able to break free."

"Where are we going to put it?" Charles asked.

"We can paint it on the floor in the basement -- Beej doesn't go down there very often, so he won't see it before we're ready to trap him."

Charles shook his head. "I'm not sure I like that idea, pumpkin," he said. "We just finished the basement -- it's a new hardwood floor. Putting paint on it --"

"Painter's tape!" Adam said suddenly.

"What?"

"We use painter's tape to make the pentacle -- it's specially made to be easy to remove, and it won't ruin the floor."

"All right, but how do we get him inside? He'll see it."

"If he's distracted enough he won't notice it," Lydia replied. "And we all know how easy it is to distract him."

Charles nodded. "I'll go to the hardware store right now -- the sooner we get started, the sooner it'll be ready." He looked at his ghost friend. "I just hope Lydia can find a cure for BJ," he said. "He's ... grown on me."

Adam laid a hand on Charles' shoulder. "He's part of the family."

*****

"There!" Charles said, as he and Adam finished making the six-foot-diametre pentacle according to Lydia's directions. "All finished!"

Lydia looked at the trap appraisingly. "Looks good," she said.

"Are you sure we'll be able to distract him enough that he won't see it?" Adam asked.

Lydia looked at him pointedly. "This is Beej we're talking about, remember?"

"We just have to stay positive," Delia said. "The universe is attuned to positivity."

"I really hope this is going to --" Barbara began, but she was interrupted by the demon's sudden appearance.

"What's goin' on?" he asked, baring his teeth like a predator scenting prey. His eyes were wild, and he looked like he was about to pounce on one of them. "What're all of you doing down here in the basement? You guys talkin' about me behind my back?"

"No, of course not," Delia reassured him.

"Yes, you were," he said in a singsong voice.

"We're just --"

"YOU'RE LYING!!!" he roared, his face inches from hers. "I KNOW WHEN SOMEBODY'S LYING TO ME -- I'M THE MASTER OF LIES!"

"BJ, please," Charles said, "there's no reason to --"

"No reason to what, Chuckles? No reason to scare anybody? No reason to hurt anybody? No reason to KILL ALL OF YOU??? " Suddenly he had a machete in his raised hand. He advanced on Charles, brandishing it menacingly.

Suddenly he stopped, and in a conversational tone he said, "I'm sure you're all wondering why I have this machete -- I mean, I'm a demon, after all. I could just go feral, right? You know I can -- Dee here's even seen it. She'll tell you, won't you?

"Or I could just kill all of you with a thought, a wave of my hand -- like THIS!"

The others flinched as he demonstrated, but nothing happened to any of them.

"Huh, nothing happened," Betelgeuse said. He looked at his hands. "I wonder why? Oh, yeah -- BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU THAT WAY! IT'LL BE SO MUCH MORE FUN TO EVISCERATE YOU! TO SLAUGHTER EACH AND EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU AND BATHE IN YOUR --"

"Now! " Delia shouted.

Lydia barrelled into the demon, shoving him into the circle, the machete clattering to the floor. He snatched at the girl, but she twisted away from him and got herself safely out of the circle.

Betelgeuse was in a frenzy, growling and snarling, howling and roaring, but he was trapped inside the circle, unable to break free.

"Hurry!" Adam urged Lydia. "Find a way to cure him before it's too late!"

She nodded. With the piece of chalk she drew a door on the wall of the basement, knocked three times, and stepped through into the Netherworld.

Delia hugged Charles, burying her head against his chest, and he rubbed her back in a gesture of comfort. But Adam and Barbara could see the look of anguish on his face.

"Save him, Lydia," he whispered. "Save my ... my boy."

*****

Lydia rubbed her arms as she looked around -- she'd forgotten how cold it was here. "Should've remembered to bring a sweater," she said to herself.

She started walking -- she had no idea which way to go, but like the Cheshire cat said in Alice in Wonderland, "If you don't know where you're going, anywhere will get you there."

She knew one thing -- she needed to find someone who could help. If only there were doctors or hospitals in the Netherw-

Of course! She needed to find a doctor who had died!

"Even if they don't know what to do, they might know someone who does," she said. "But how do I find --"

Tina.

She worked in the processing department -- she probably knew almost everyone here. She might know a doctor.

*****

Betelgeuse was no longer raging, but the demon's snarls were still terrifying to both the Deetzes and the Maitlands. If he should break free from the circle, he would devour all of them.

Delia was still sobbing against Charles' shoulder, and Barbara and Adam were holding each other tightly, all of them hoping and praying that Lydia would soon return, safe and sound, with a cure for their friend.

"She won't find a cure for me," Betelgeuse told them.

"You don't know that," Charles said firmly.

"Yes, I do -- this was Juno's parting gift. Now that she's been eradicated, the cure is gone, too." There was no regret in his voice, only ... cold, malicious satisfaction.

"I don't believe that!" Adam said angrily. "There must be a cure!"

"It doesn't matter what you believe, sweet cheeks -- the cure is gone, kaput, finito. Just like Juno. Just like Beej will be soon enough. There'll only be me, and I'll infect all of you."

"Why?" Barbara asked. "Why do you want to do that, Beej? We're your family! "

He simply laughed, a horrible cackle that sounded like --

"Juno?" Adam asked, horrified.

"What? " Barbara asked. "That's Juno??? But how --"

"My sweet boy thought he could destroy me!" the demon said. "Well, I ain't that easy to get rid of! I scratched him, left a tiny part of me in him that would survive and grow. I must admit, it was a clever plan, though -- blocking his ears so he couldn't hear the spell. Which one of you thought of it? I know it wasn't him -- he's just not that bright. And it couldn't have been his new mommy or daddy -- what would either of you know about such things? And you two," Juno-in-Betelgeuse said to the Maitlands, "you know even less!" The demon thought for a moment. "The girl -- of course! BJ's 'best friend forever'! She's the one who came up with the idea, isn't she?" A smug smile played across Beej's round face. "I'll have my fun with her when she gets back."

*****

"Tina?" Lydia called into the darkness. "Tina, are you here? Please, it's me, Lydia -- Beej needs help! Tina?"

Nothing.

Lydia sat down on a rock. She'd been walking for what seemed like hours without encountering a single soul.

"Please?" she said softly. "Can somebody help? Anybody? "

She was utterly alone.

How was she supposed to find anyone in this place? The last time she'd come to the Netherworld she'd been searching for her mom, but hadn't found her.

She closed her eyes in resignation. It was no use -- Beej was going to be consumed by whatever it was that had infected him, and there was no one who could --

"¿Chiquita? What are you doing back here?"

"Tina!" Lydia exclaimed, leaping to her feet and throwing her arms around the ghost. "I thought I'd never find you!"

"I came as soon as I could get away -- plane crash. Seventy nine dead," Miss Argentina explained. "It's a very busy day in the office." She sat down on the rock and took Lydia's hands in hers. "¿Por qué estas aquí, carita? You know it's not safe for breathers, even with Juno being gone!"

"It's Beej," Lydia told her. "Something's wrong -- he's sick. Infected."

Tina frowned. "No es posible," she said. "Demons can't get sick."

"That's what he said, at first -- but he's changing."

"Changing? How?"

"His personality -- he's becoming more evil than ever before. And there's things growing out of him ... like mushrooms, or something. He's been infected, and I need to find someone who can cure him."

Tina's dismay was plain. "¡Dios mío!" she breathed. "The spores."

"What's the spores?"

"Es una infección por hongos -- how do you say ...? A fungal infection. Very rare. It takes over the mind, eats away until there is nothing left." She put her face in her hands. "¡Ay ay ay -- pobrecito!" She looked at Lydia with tears in her eyes. "Lo siento, carita -- there is no cure."

"There has to be a cure! Or someone who can make a cure!"

*****

The Deetzes and the Maitlands had returned upstairs -- it was too difficult to watch what was happening to Beej.

"When will we ever be rid of that ... that demon bitch? " Charles snarled.

"Lydia will be back with a cure soon," Delia reassured him. "I know she will."

"Delia," Barbara said gently, "we may have to face the possibility that --"

"Don't say it!" Adam cut in. "We need to believe that everything will be all right. That .. that Beej will be ... will be all right." He looked like he wanted to punch something -- anything.

"Adam --" Barbara began.

"No! He's our friend and we owe it to him to stay positive!"

*****

After some thought, Tina had taken Lydia back to the processing centre. "I'll check the records," she'd said. "Maybe there's a scientist or someone who has knowledge."

Now she was digging through the files. "You need someone who has been dead long enough to know about Netherworld diseases ... Aha! " she exclaimed triumphantly, holding a file folder aloft. "Doctor Sunil Chaudhury. He died in --" she checked the file "--1987. He was a researcher of fungal infections. If anyone can help, it will be him."

"Where can I find him?"

Tina skimmed through the file. "Here it is -- he has a laboratory in J Sector. That's not too far from here. Come, I will take you!"

*****

"Are you hungry?" Delia asked. She'd brought a plate of food downstairs. "I brought you some dinner. It's your favourite -- meatloaf and mashed potatoes."

Betelgeuse just snarled and snapped at her.

She pulled a chair over and sat. "It must be awful for you -- being possessed by that ... that horrible old hag."

"Beej isn't here any more," the demon said. "It's just us girls, dearie."

"You're wrong," Delia replied. "He's still in there -- I know it. I can feel it."

Juno scoffed.

"You're not as strong or as smart as you think you are," Delia told her. "See, there's something about me that you don't know."

"Oh, I know everything I need to know about you," Juno said. "You're a ditz who believes anything she hears about anything so long as it's packaged as New Age bullshit."

"Do you know why I believe in New Age spirituality?" Delia asked.

"Why?"

"Because I can see auras."

Juno narrowed her eyes.

"I can see Beej's aura," she went on. "It's not as strong as it used to be, but it's still there. And so long as I can see his aura, I know he isn't gone."

She stood and went back upstairs with the plate of food. She scraped the meatloaf and potatoes into the trash, put the plate in the sink and, gripping the edge of the counter tightly, began to cry.

*****

Trapped in his own body, Beej could do nothing to let his friends -- his family -- know that he was still here, that Juno hadn't yet taken over completely.

He wanted to scream, "I'M STILL HERE! I'M STILL ALIVE!" But he couldn't -- Juno was in the driver's seat.

Then Delia said that she knew that he was still in there because she could still see his aura, and that gave him a glimmer of hope.

"It doesn't matter if she can see your aura," Juno said. "You'll be gone soon enough, you ungrateful little shit."

"Fuck you," he replied.

*****

"Here we are," Tina said when they had arrived at Dr Chaudhury's lab. She knocked on the door. "Doctor? It's Tina -- from processing. There's someone here who needs your help."

"Yes?" Dr Chaudhury said when he opened the door and saw them standing there. "What can I do for you?" He was a slim, dark-skinned man with glasses and a pleasant Anglo-Indian accent.

"This is Lydia -- she needs the help of a micólogo."

"Now is not a good time, I'm afraid --"

"Please, Dr Chaudhury," Lydia said. "My friend has been ... infected by some kind of fungus -- Tina called it 'the spores'?"

He looked at her, frowning. "You're not dead," he remarked. "Why not find a living mycologist?"

"My friend's name is Beetlejuice," she told him.

"Juno's son is your friend?" he asked, surprised. "How did you become friends with someone like him?"

"It's a long story," she replied. "Please -- can you help me? It's urgent -- I need a cure, a treatment, anything."

He opened the door wider. "Come in," he said.

*****

After Lydia had finished her account of the events of the past few weeks, Dr Chaudhury was silent for a long moment.

"¿Puede ayudarla?" Tina asked him.

He shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure," he said. "The spores, as you call them, are a sort of cordyceps -- you've heard of zombie ants?" Lydia nodded. "This is similar -- but it's a manufactured infection. You said that your friend had a scratch on his back?"

Lydia nodded. "He doesn't know how it happened, though."

"He had struggled with Juno," the scientist said. "She may have infected him -- she always detested him."

"Es cierto," Tina agreed. "She blamed him for losing her ability to shapeshift."

"So it was Juno who did this to him???" Lydia fumed.

"I believe so," Dr Chaudhury said.

"Can you make a cure?" Tina asked.

"I will need access to Juno's home, her office ... there should be something somewhere that I can use to make a cure for your friend."

"Vamos ahora, entonces," Tina said. "I will take you."

"Wait," Lydia said. "We don't need to go anywhere -- we took a sample of the fungus." She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small zipper bag filled with the mushrooms Barbara had culled from Beej's back.

Dr Chaudhury took the bag with a smile. "Very nice," he said. "Let's get to work."

*****

Well," Dr Chaudhury said, looking up from his microscope, "these fruiting bodies -- mushrooms -- are definitely Netherworld in origin. Most interestingly, they're still alive, and seem to be sentient to a degree."

"What do you mean, 'sentient'?" Lydia asked. "Like intelligent? "

"To some extent, yes," came the reply. "They display self-awareness, and intent. Their purpose is to infect, and they want to fulfill that purpose, even now, even separated from the mycelium -- the main network of the fungus."

"¡Dios mío!" Tina gasped.

"This is crazy! " Lydia wailed. "You're telling me that my best friend is being taken over by an intelligent fungus that was created by his mother?"

The doctor nodded.

"How can it be stopped?" Lydia asked. "How do we kill it without killing Beej?"

*****

Beej was almost catatonic now -- he was sitting in the centre of the trap, just staring into the middle distance, his eyes unfocussed. The only sound he was making was a soft humming.

"I don't think he has much time left," Barbara said. "If Lydia doesn't come back soon ..."

"She'll be here in time," Adam told her. "She has to."

Suddenly a door opened up in the wall of the basement, and Lydia ran out, right into Adam's arms.

"I got it!" she told them. "At least, I hope I do."

"Where is it?" Barbara asked hurriedly. "We need to give it to him now! " "It's in the kitchen," Lydia replied. "It's something we had all along!"

*****

"Vinegar??? " Delia said, incredulous.

"What are we supposed to do with it?" Charles asked. "Pour it down his throat?"

"Yes!" Lydia said. "Well, we also need to shower him with it -- it needs to be taken both internally and externally."

"How do we shower him with vinegar?" Adam asked.

"Super Soakers!" Delia said. "We've got several in the garage, remember? We fill them with vinegar and blast him with it! And I've got lots of vinegar for pickling -- gallons of it!"

"Adam and I will get the Super Soakers," Charles said. "You guys get all the vinegar ready."

"Wait," Barbara said. "Are you sure this'll work? I mean, it just seems ... too simple, don't you think?"

"We don't have a choice," Lydia told her. "If we don't try it, Beej is gonna die. I know it sounds crazy, but at this point it's his only chance."

*****

They headed down to the basement, each of them carrying a Super Soaker filled with vinegar. Charles also had an extra two-quart jug of the stuff -- he had a plan for how to make sure the vinegar got in the demon as well as on him.

"Hi, guys!" the demon said -- he sounded like himself again. "What's goin' on? Are we gonna have a water fight? Where's mine?"

Lydia began pumping the barrel of her Super Soaker.

"Wait," Delia said suddenly. "Let me try talking to him one more time."

"Delia, no!" Charles said.

"Charles, he's our son," she told him. "What if this doesn't work? What if ... what if the vinegar kills him?" Her eyes welled up at the thought. "Please -- I need to try. It might be the last time I get ... get to talk to him. The last time I get to tell him that I love him. That we love him."

Charles nodded, blinking back sudden tears of his own. "Be careful," he said.

"Trust me, Charles -- I know what to do."

She approached the circle and held her hands out to the trapped demon. "Beej," she said, "it's me, Delia. Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do," he replied. "You're my friend -- you're my mom."

She's not your mom, Juno's spores whispered to him.

"Yes, she is," he said aloud. "She's my mom and she loves me more than you ever did."

Lydia's eyes welled with tears. "That's right, Beej," she said under her breath. "Fight it! You can do it!"

"Come on, BJ!" Charles whispered.

"That's right," Delia said. "I love you. You're my son."

You're MY son. You belong to ME -- forever.

Betelgeuse shook his head. "I'm not your son -- you always hated me. She -- they -- don't hate me. They love me."

Delia nodded. "We do love you, and we want you to get better and come back to us -- that's why we're going to have another water fight, Beej. It'll be fun, and it'll help make you better.

"Take my hand, Beej," she said. "Take my hand, and we'll have a water fight."

The demon stepped forward and reached out to take her hand, but then he stopped. "It's a trick," he said, his eyes blazing with madness once again. "You're trying to trick me! You don't wanna save me -- you wanna kill me! Oh, you guys think you're sooo smart, don'tcha? Smarter than old Beej, right? Well, I got news for you -- I'm smarter than all of you put together! You can't con a con man! Now you're all gonna die! "

He lunged forward, screaming in agony as he crossed the edge of the pentacle.

Charles tossed the Super Soaker to his wife. "NOW!"

The demon roared as he was hit with five high-powered streams of vinegar. Whether from the force of the multiple blasts or from the acidic liquid itself, he fell to the floor of the basement and went into a foetal position, and the others kept soaking him with vinegar until he was completely drenched and whimpering.

Charles got the remaining jug of vinegar and went over to the demon. He flipped Betelgeuse onto his back and tossed a rag over his friend's face, and proceeded to waterboard the demon with the vinegar.

"GAGH! AAAGH! NO! STOP! RRRAAAAHHHH! " Betelgeuse kicked and sputtered, thrashing about as he choked on the liquid flooding his system.

"I'm sorry, BJ," Charles told him in an anguished voice, "but this is for your own good!"

Finally the jug was empty. Charles tossed it aside, breathing like a bull.

Beej lay there on the floor, not moving.

"Did ... did you kill him?" Adam asked.

"He was already dead," Lydia pointed out.

Suddenly Beej coughed and began snoring, and everyone, Lydia included, let out a sigh of relief.

"Let's get him up to his bed," Charles said. "We'll strap him in until we know if it worked."

"It worked," Delia told him. "His aura is better already - not a hundred percent, but better. More like it used to be." She turned to her husband and put her hands on his chest. "You were magnificent," she said. "A real tiger. Rrrawrrr!"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Come on," she said. "We've got a demon to tuck in."

*****

After a month and a half of drinking and bathing in vinegar, there was no sign of the infection. Beej's skin had cleared up and he was back to his old self -- no trace of madness. Well, only his regular madness.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Beej," Lydia said, when the demon came down for breakfast. "We were all really worried about you."

"Yeah," he replied, "me, too. Thanks for ... for ..."

Lydia hugged him. "We couldn't stand by and do nothing," she told him.

"What was it like?" Barbara asked.

"Not good," he replied. "I was trapped inside myself -- I could see and hear everything, but I couldn't do anything, you know? Juno -- the spores, whatever -- they were in complete control of me, of everything I said, everything I did." He looked at the floor. "I'm sorry for everything, guys."

"Oh, Beej!" Delia said, coming over to him and giving him a hug. "We know it wasn't you! It wasn't your fault, honey!"

"Of course it wasn't," Charles added. "It was her fault. Juno."

"Thanks, guys," Beej said. "I did learn one thing, though."

"The importance of family," Adam said, nodding confidently.

"Yeah, no," Beej replied. "I mean, I already knew that. I learned how much I hate vinegar! Seriously, I never wanna go near that stuff again!"

Charles chuckled. "That stuff saved your life."

"Yeah, well ... it's still pretty nasty."

He looked at the others. "I learned something else, too, though."

"What's that?" Lydia asked.

"How important it is to be yourself. I nearly lost myself, you know?"

The Maitlands nodded.

"That spore fungus is a horrible thing," Barbara said.

"No! I mean, yeah, it is, but that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm a demon! I'm supposed to be evil -- I'm supposed to cause death and destruction! And you guys ... you guys tried to change me -- you tried to take that away from me. Juno -- the spores, whatever -- they were right -- I'm just your pet! Your dumb little demon dog that'll do tricks for treats!" He turned away, his hair a mix of magenta and purple.

"Oh, Beej, no," Delia said. "That's not true! You're family! We love you!"

Charles spoke up. "BJ," he said, "it took me a while to ... warm up to you. After all, you forced my daughter to marry you, you repeatedly threatened every one of us --"

"Good times, huh?" Beej said, a sardonic smile on his face.

"My point is," Charles said, "eventually I did warm up to you. I ... like having you around -- we all do." The others nodded in agreement. "You're the reason we're all together -- in fact, you might be the glue that holds this family together."

"Beej," Lydia put in, "you're my best friend. My weird dead older brother." She took both his hands in hers. "You saved me from making a terrible mistake that day on the roof. You saved all of us from your mother, from those guys who broke in ... all because you wanted to be part of something. Something special. But you need to realise that you're what makes us special.

"We never wanted to change you -- we were just trying to help you fit in with us breathers, don't you see? You bring ... a bit of chaos into our lives, and we need that sometimes. We need that -- to remind us that, no matter what, life is worth living, just to see what happens next."

Beej was in tears now. "I love you guys so much -- but I can't be me if I stay."

"Why not?" Adam asked. "Why can't you be yourself? So you're a demon -- okay, so what?"

"So you guys aren't gonna want me to stay if I go back to scaring the crap out of people! I need to be feared! I need to hear that sound again -- that sound of people screaming in terror!" He looked at them. "I need it like ... like breathers need air and water -- without it ... I'll die. Well, I won't die -- I'm already dead -- but --"

"We get it," Lydia said. "It's part of who you are."

Beej nodded. "So I have to go -- find somewhere else."

"You are not going anywhere, young man!" Delia was adamant. "We are your family, and we love you, and you belong here with us, dammit!" She looked at him, and the demon could see the love in her eyes -- the love he'd craved his entire unlife. "You're my son. You'll always be my son."

"Why do you have to leave for good?" Adam asked suddenly. "Why can't you just ... I don't know, take a few days' break from us now and then? You know, like a mini-vacation?"

"That's a great idea!" Barbara exclaimed. "You can go somewhere else for a bit and then come back!"

"You guys still want me to come back even if I go around causing death and destruction?"

"People who love you don't turn their backs on you just because you did stuff they don't approve of," Lydia said. "You're still my friend, even after I killed you, right?"

He nodded.

"The world is already so filled with death and destruction," Charles told him, "a bit more won't matter, now will it?"

"Chuck! I'm impressed!" Beej said, grinning. "That stick must've really hurt coming out!"

"What stick?"

"The one you had shoved up your --"

"Yes, well," Charles interrupted. "Go. Do what you need to do. Just -- not here in Winter River. Or Connecticut. Or the eastern seaboard. Or --"

"I think what Charles is saying is that we understand and support you," Delia cut in. "There will always be a place for you here, with us -- no matter what."

"Really?" Beej said, his eyes welling up again. "You really mean that?"

She and the others nodded -- even Charles. "We really do."

"You might be a demon," Barbara said, "but you're our demon."

"And we're never gonna give you up!" Adam added.

"Thanks, guys," Beej said, wiping away his tears. "You guys are the best! Now I'm gonna go and give somebody the fright of their life!" He turned to Delia. "I'll be back in time for dinner."

And with that, he vanished.

Barbara looked at her husband. "Rick Astley? Really?"

"What? I thought it was appropriate!" He took her by the hand and started to sing:

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna put you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

Barbara added her voice to his as she and Adam danced, and Charles took Delia's hand to join in the fun.

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you!

[bishiglomper]

We never made it out to go see Beetlejuice but mom saw Amazon had it. So we just bought it. Everyone was sleeping so we still got to watch it together 8D

Sissy joined us halfway through

It was about as good as I was expecting. I like the baby beej reference but I did not like the ankle biter itself pffft

Disappointed with the ex wife ending. Felt pretty anticlimatic...

I wish there was more time to play with the Astrid and boy plot and beetlejuice and Lydia thing. But it was alright 👌

I had sort of a keatlejuice dream last night.

Keaton was donned up as BJ at this big place and the film crew was there and I ran into him and I think I was part of something. Because he saw me and was like! Hey!! We should get a picture!!! :D! Get over here!

So I remember posing with him, being upset with my outfit because it was ripped and didn't look good so the next part was trying to run to change before he left for a better photo. And also I was in roller skates for some reason. Beetlejuice roller skates. Think the Walmart sneakers with purple wheels. I need them. 🤌

My cousin was there. I think he was helping me run around looking for how to get out of there quickest.

When I got back Keaton and the crew were having dinner in this big dining room. They invited me. They ate some kinda weird seafood.

I picked at what I thought was ravioli. Seashell shaped. And it was delicious. But when I looked at another one there was a big furry green snail in it. 🤢 It might have been tasty but I couldn't eat it once i knew what it was... 🤣

It's weird that when I dream about live action characters, it's literally about the actors themselves. Happened when I had a doctor who dream; everyone was making a stink about Capaldi being an old guy and when I dreamt it I was just like "Good luck, my dude!!"

And I had a Pennywise dream, and Skarsgard was dressed as Pennywise wth balloons but it was literally us just going around greeting and making fans.

Also on roller skates, now that I think about it. 🤔

I wonder what that's about

[lattehearted]

it begins to rain or snow while our muses are walking somewhere and sender simply picks up receiver to carry them the rest of the way.  (Beej @ Peg)

She feels the exhaustion deep in her bones. It's easier now. She's not alone anymore. But they've all aged. Raising a baby alone isn't nearly the same as the horrors of war but she still feels worlds away from the bright eyed girl her husband had left four years ago.

He's different too. His shoulders slump a little more, a handful of grey hairs catch the sunlight and remind them both that they're getting older. That they've seen far more than they could have imagined, things worlds away from Mr. Rasmussen's drama class. Things-

A drop lands on her cheek and Peg blinks out of memory lane at the sensation. It's followed by another, then another, splattering onto her curls and painting the sidewalk under her heels. "Damn," she swears, wincing when she does; thankfully she's not home but her boys and their Army tongues have been making her forget to watch her mouth sometimes. They're still several blocks from home and neither had brought umbrellas. "I'm sorry, BJ, I didn't-"

"Darling, let me see the groceries," her husband instructs. Confused but compliant, Peggy hands over the her half of their groceries. Collecting two bags in each hand, BJ takes a moment to adjust his grip and roll his shoulders before crouching wordlessly.

Peg knows what he's suggesting; you can't be with a person for over a decade and not read between the lines, not develop a silent language all your own. But still... "Beej, are you sure?" she questions, taking stock of the groceries and her frame on top of it. "We bought a lot of heavy things and I'm not exactly in tip-top varsity flyer shape anymore-"

His laughter cuts her off and the ache in her bones lessens. "Peggy, if I don't carry you, the wind's liable to do the job for me."

It's her turn to laugh and despite the wind chill, she feels warm all over. "Fine, but don't blame me if you trip under all the weight."

"Eh, someone at home will kiss it better, if I do" he retorts without skipping a beat, earning another peal of giggles from his wife.

She's no longer a cheerleader but it's pure muscle memory as she places small, soft hands on broad shoulders and hoists herself up onto her husband's back. Her arms lock around his neck, legs clinging around his waist as BJ straightens up. "Better hold on tight, sweetheart. I'll get us home faster than you can say "Singin' in the Rain."

"Wanna bet? I'm si-" Peggy's first few notes dissolve into shrieks of laughter as her husband takes off like a shot. He sprints between raindrops to get them and their groceries home as quickly as possible with those impossibly long legs of his, Peggy giggling all the while, feeling lighter than air.

Oh yes, things have changed. But some things, it seems, were evergreen.

@remyfire / simple acts of romanticism

[machihunnicutt]

HELLO AL AMAZING ASK GAME and okay being restrained in the number of these I want to hear answers for LOL:

🏡What is your perfect writing envrionment?

🚿Where do your best ideas seem to strike?

👩‍🏫Pick a character and I'll tell you their favorite season and why. <- can I ask for Hawk AND Beej? is that cheating??

AHHH TY OK…these are good ones

🏡Perfect writing environment is probably coffee shops! I wrote pretty much all of both sides now and most of baby it’s you in all day writing sessions at coffee shops on my days off.

I stay more focused when I write with other people around and I also like to have background noise that isn’t too distracting.

🚿At work usually! On airplanes/buses/long car rides idk why 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can never predict when I’m going to have a new idea, though. It really comes out of nowhere most of the time.

I think I am going to write an (OC heavy, probably pretty niche 😀 ) 3rd installment to the bsn universe and when I first started this project I had no idea there would even be a sequel lol it’s very strange…

👩‍🏫Their favorite season???

Hawkeye’s a winter boy I know this to be true. He was definitely the kid who led the games/snow fort building/snowball fights. He looks best in a sweater. BJ will wrap them both up in a quilt and build a fire in the fireplace…and also I just think he’s sensitive to endings 🥺even just the end of another happy year.

BJ’S IS SUMMER I think but maybe I just love opposites attract beejhawk too much! It’s because he loves the beach: lazing around on a beach towel, watching Hawk read and Erin build a sandcastle, buying popsicles that drip down their chins, walking along the shore. I think he likes everything about summer, though. I think he likes how the heat brings tensions to the surface. I think he likes crowded, open air, dance halls, and steaming, underground clubs where young people dance until they’re drenched in sweat and the humidity deflates their hair and makes their makeup run. I think he likes long days, and jean shorts :)

[prolix-yuy]

Cee, I have been saving this because Grays was so near and dear to my heart and I KNEW this was going to just shoot me into the stratosphere, so I needed to be in a good spot for it. And now it's time for Frankie to destroy my nethers yet again (with the wonderful addition of Shiv!)

Francisco Morales likes to think of himself as a reasonably competent man. 

He can pilot a helicopter under intense enemy fire. He can take out a target from miles away in the tightest of spots. 

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

You are already killing me with the cuteness, I just love Frankie glaring as his own reflection because he can't get his hair to behave (haven't we all been there at one point in time? We feel you, Frankie)

‘She’s making me use shampoo and conditioner.’

Oh what a trying time it is for you, Frankie. Also yes please to all of his little horknee asides, Shiv did leave an impression indeed!

And a little bet? That can go veryyyy well or veryyyy poorly if Shiv's involved...

Oh my GOD Frankie freaking out about her getting in his space. This is gonna be a fun night.

Mama Morales is not pulling any punches tonight! I would run as far away from that conversation as possible, Shiv's got some spunk in her for that argument!

‘What the fuck, Shiv?’ Frankie seethes through clenched teeth, literally digging his heels in, but to his despair, his shoes skid uselessly on the tiled surface as you push him towards the dancefloor with this complete stranger. 

This image has me cackling, I love Shiv playing wingwoman.

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

Can I be best friends with Shiv? There would never be a quiet moment and I'd love ever second of it. I am also trying to imagine grumpy Frankie dancing with these confused women - does he do the dad dance? A little step and sway? I'm having the best time Cee.

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

I love Benny and Shiv's relationship too, it's that perfect friendly intimacy that just feels so right for them.

His gaze falls to his shoes. ‘Yeah, well. You know she loves you.’

My heart, this is so awkward but also like, unnecessarily cruel for Frankie. Like his mother bullies him into coming to his ex's wedding and he's gotta be all smiles? I just want to hug him and let him take off those uncomfortable shoes.

YES CEE LET'S LOOK DISRESPECTFULLY AT FRANKIE'S DRIVING. You always give us the goods.

You force a chuckle in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Since when did you care about what I wanted?’

He smooths his palm over the steering wheel and holds your gaze. ‘Sometime when I wasn’t looking.’

This is such a soft, sweet moment and I know you're just lining me up for the debauchery but I love you for it.

Frankie talking to her about the salon and being proud of her Cee, my heart is swelling up, this is such a lovely cinematic little moment.

‘Because all fucking night, while you were throwing woman after woman at me, I just wanted to have a drink with you.’

‘Because since Wednesday, every time I wash my hair, I get hard thinking of you touching me.’

‘If you want it,’ he mumbles back, loath to pull back from you even for a second to shuck off his shirt. ‘If you want me.’

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

He whimpers, and you know you have him.

This is just going to be me for the remainder of this story. Give Frankie the beej of his life Shiv, he's gonna absolutely destroy your puss in return!

‘Gonna eat you out, baby,’ he drawls by your ear, trailing one palm up your body, which stops at your tits and squeezes. ‘Get you good and ready to take my big cock. How does that sound?’

Absent-mindedly, your fingers wander into his curls and his reaction is instant - he cries out, arching into your touch, his hips faltering as he seems to lose his rhythm. ‘Oh fuck, baby, been thinking about those hands all fucking week, just wanted to feel you touch me again -’

I am gonna PASS OUT CEE THIS IS DELICIOUS

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

Good ol' Benny, glad to know they got home safe, I was worried about them!

Trying to play it cool, you only briefly glance up, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror as he makes his way down the stairs in his rumpled shirt and trousers, zipping up the fly when he reaches the bottom.

I have a feeling I know exactly where the inspiration for this came from ;)))))

I'm so happy they're still as snarky with each other after all that. They work best with all the teeth and sass, I wouldn't have them any other way.

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

So are we Cee! You've made him too sexy! I can't take it!

This was the perfect follow-up to Grays and I'm so happy you gave us all the tension, the sniping, and that dee-licious payoff. I love them, I loved the fuck out of this, and I love YOU and your perfect brain! Thank you for sharing part 2 with us!

Grays II

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays - Part I | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, matchmaking elements, meddlesome mother, lots of teasing, not-quite-friends to lovers dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, oral sex (F and M receiving), protected sex, dirty talk.

Word count: 8.5k

Notes: It's here - 4 months later! First of all, thank you so much for the love for Grays Part I. I still can't quite believe the reaction to Frankie and Shiv, you guys sure know how to make a writer feel special 🥰 This one was so much fun to write, and nervous as I am posting this follow-up, I'm telling myself to let go of my insecurities and just enjoy it because that's what it's all about. I hope y'all will have a good time at this wedding with the gang 😘

Francisco Morales likes to think of himself as a reasonably competent man. 

He can pilot a helicopter under intense enemy fire. He can take out a target from miles away in the tightest of spots. 

But he can’t do his fucking hair.

He glares at himself in the mirror. He can’t put his finger on it, it just doesn’t look like how you did it. He’s already washed it out and started over twice, and for a second, he considers driving to your salon. A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s far too late for that now.

Leaning over the sink, he says to his reflection, ‘Focus, pendejo. You can do it.’

He’s a pilot for fuck’s sake. He’s a man of procedure, he can follow steps. He just needs to break it down.

Hair half-dry - check.

Hair mousse applied - check.

Now he just needs to dry his hair all the way and style it - but the how is where it gets hazy. 

Frankie closes his eyes and casts his mind back to your salon. He’s sitting in the chair and you’re standing behind him. He wills himself to recall what you were doing with your hands, but all he remembers is the scrape of your of your fingertips on his scalp, the ghost of your breath on the back of his neck, and then -

Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.

He scrubs a frustrated palm down his face when his cock twitches in his haphazardly ironed dress pants, not for the first time… hell, not even the fourth time since he left your salon on Wednesday afternoon.

‘Goddamnit,’ he bites out, dropping the hairdryer with a clunk and grips the porcelain sink. He needs to calm the fuck down. 

He didn’t ask for - this, whatever this is. You’re you. You’re Shiv. The loudmouth with the wild hair he’s known since fifth grade. The fourth wheel at guys’ drinks when Will can’t make it. A relentless tease on a good day, and downright insufferable when you get enough tequila in you.

And quite possibly, the only person who’s ever driven him to the brink of unconsciousness with just the touch of their bare hands.

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe you’re right. It has been a while since he’s been with a woman. He just needs to get laid at the wedding, get this weird tension out of his system. And then hopefully, he’ll be able to go to sleep without being kept up by you telling him to go harder, deeper -

By the time he gets his head out of his ass, it’s too late for second-guessing. He rakes his fingers through his hair, sets it with hairspray, and quickly rubs the beard oil he bought in town yesterday into his whiskers. He takes a moment to look himself over while he clumsily does up the tie he borrowed from Pope.

This is as good as it’s gonna get.

He’s the designated driver tonight. By some miracle, he’s only five minutes late when he cruises into Pope’s driveway, where all three of the boys are waiting and sipping on beers.

‘Damn Fish, you look good,’ crows Santi as he climbs into the passenger seat, patting him on the shoulder. ‘You should get your hair cut at Shiv’s from now on.’

‘Only if you keep paying for it,’ retorts Frankie while he backs out of the driveway. He pauses as he changes gears, and adds in a grumble. ‘She’s making me use shampoo and conditioner.’

Pope barks in laughter, twisting in his seat to give Benny a knowing grin. ‘Someone had to, you caveman.’

The younger Miller brother ribs good-naturedly, ‘You ready for some action tonight, Fish? I brought some extra rubbers just in case.’

Meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, Frankie rips into him mercilessly. ‘You know your small ass condoms don’t fit me, Benjamin.’ 

The car erupts with playful jeers, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile as he palms the steering wheel.

‘That’s some fighting talk, Fish!’ goads Santi, punching him on the arm.

Will joins in the banter. ‘You better watch out, little bro. Big Dick Morales came out swinging tonight.’

Benny grins. ‘Ok, I see how it is. Let’s make it interesting, Fish. Whoever picks up a one night stand first wins a hundred bucks.’

Frankie shrugs in mock nonchalance and quips, ‘I mean, I can use the cash. Shampoo ain’t cheap.’

Benny chuckles and clasps his shoulder. ‘You’re on, man.’

It’s eight on the dot when you lock up the salon. While you did RSVP for wedding drinks - opting out of the sit-down dinner earlier in the evening - you hadn’t planned on actually going. But it seems like the whole town did, you’ve barely had two customers walk through the door all afternoon. 

So you let Ashton go home early, and after a quick snack, you take your time getting ready. Might as well have a Saturday night out - your first in many months.

The hotel is just a short Uber ride away. When you climb out of the car, you bite your bottom lip at the unfamiliar tension humming under your skin.

Nerves.

You’re nervous.

And worse, you know exactly what you’re nervous about. 

Or more precisely - who.

‘Pull it together, Shiv,’ you mutter under your breath. Steeling yourself, you stride into the hotel.

From his vantage point at the bar, Benny watches in amusement as Frankie glances towards the doors of the reception hall yet again. He doubts the pilot even knows he’s doing it, or at the very least, he doesn’t think that anyone would notice.

Grabbing his beer, Benny sidles up to his friend. ‘Looking for something, Fish?’

Frankie takes a sip of his Coke and feigns nonchalance. ‘Yeah, looking to win that hundred bucks from you.’

‘Dunno ‘bout that. I don’t see you trying very hard.’

‘Biding my time, Miller. Just make sure you have enough cash to -’ 

When Frankie breaks off in the middle of his sentence, Benny doesn’t need to look to wager a guess what caught his attention.

Turning around as you approach, he flings his arms out to give you a hug, eyeing you up and down appreciatively. ‘Babe, look at you all dressed up! Doesn’t she look nice, Fish?’

In lieu of an answer, Frankie stares intently at some invisible spot over your shoulder until Benny elbows him right in his stomach, jerking him out of his trance. ‘Fish?’

Frankie clears his throat and stutters. ‘Um. I - I don’t know.’

You arch an eyebrow at him. ‘You don’t know if I look nice?’

Benny has to stopper his mouth with beer so he doesn’t laugh out loud at the panic on Frankie’s face as he fumbles for a response. ‘I mean. Um, nice… pants?’

‘It’s a jumpsuit, Morales. Try to keep up,’ you reply and take two steps towards him, which has him backpedalling so fast that he upsets the table behind him, sending half-empty glasses spilling wine all over the white tablecloth.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he growls at you like a cornered stray.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you pull him upright by his tie. ‘Is he ok, Ben? He’s even jumpier than usual.’

‘Well, it’s a funny night for him. Watching his ex get married and all.’

‘I swear to God, Benjamin Miller, if you don’t shut the fuck up -’ 

‘Pipe down, Morales, we’re just messing with you,’ you shush him, tugging on his slightly skewed shirt collar to set it straight. ‘Can’t believe you own a tie.’

‘Borrowed it from Pope,’ he grunts without making eye contact.

Smoothing the lapels of his slightly crumpled suit jacket, you probe, ‘You’ve been using shampoo and conditioner like I asked?’

Frankie huffs a dry laugh. ‘I don’t remember you asking.’

‘Someone’s mouthy tonight,’ you tease. ‘And the beard oil?’

He concedes with a sigh. ‘Yes, Shiv.’

‘You look good, Francisco,’ you grin and reach up to push his curls back from his eyes.

He looks away as he admits, ‘Took three fucking tries.’

At least he holds still when you make small adjustments to his hair, shoulders stiff with hands stuffed deep into his pockets. You catch yourself missing the way he leaned into your touch in your salon, and you have to forcefully push that thought away as you push your fingers through the roots to boost the volume. His curls feel softer already than you remember them, with a noticeably healthier sheen. 

After a final rustle to loosen up his fringe, you wink at him. ‘Mark my words, the bride will rue the day she dumped your ass when she sees you.’

A voice from behind you interrupts. ‘It’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?’

Trading a look with Frankie, who gives you a sarcastic thumbs up, you put on a smile and turn on your heels. ‘Mrs. Morales, it’s been too long!’

‘I see you haven’t dyed my son’s hair like I requested,’ she says by way of a greeting, drawing you into an embrace.

Frankie’s taunt is so quiet that you nearly miss it. ‘Told you she’d come after you.’

Without skipping a beat, you elbow him in the ribs, ignoring his pained oomph from behind you. ‘You look wonderful tonight, ma’am.’ 

‘You can’t sweet talk your way out of my question, young lady.’

You cross your arms with a sigh. ‘I didn’t dye it because he looks good with the grays.’ 

‘Well, I don’t think so.’

‘In my professional opinion, he does,’ you retort pointedly.

‘If he looks so good, why is he still single?’

Frankie throws his hands up in exasperation. ‘Gee, thanks a lot ma.’

You turn to Benny, who has been silently watching you two spar. ‘What do you think, Miller?’

He dithers, eyes darting around in desperation until he spots Santi and his older brother coming back from the bar. ‘Look! Here are the guys, let’s ask them!’

‘Ask us what?’ asks Santi, giving you a kiss on the cheek and a glass of bubbly.

‘Do you think my son looks good with the grays?’

Your eyebrow twitches when Mrs. Morales carelessly ruffles his hair to emphasise her point. To your surprise, Frankie bats her away with an irritated ma!, before hastily rearranging it.

‘Your honest opinion, if you please,’ you add.

The boys hum and haw, sipping their beers and shooting uncertain looks between you and Mrs. Morales, clearly uncomfortable being caught in the middle. Upping the heat, you narrow your eyes at them, and Will folds first. 

‘Yeah, I mean - he looks good,’ he mumbles, avoiding the Morales matriarch's glare.

‘Pope?’ you prompt.

‘Cabrón rocking those grays,’ he nods supportively.

‘Ben?’

‘Uh huh,’ he replies vaguely, but at your menacing glare, clarifies, ‘Yes, I meant - yes, ma’am.’

Mrs. Morales scoffs. ‘They’re men, what do they know! I don’t see him catching any girls’ attention.’

Ah, that’s the easy part. You look around, scanning the crowds - and bingo, you see a brunette staring openly from across the dance floor. You hold up a finger for dramatic effect. ‘Excuse me for one second.’

Frankie looks ready for the earth to swallow him whole by the time you return with the said woman in tow. Pointing straight at him, you ask, ‘Lucy, this is Frankie. Do you think he’s hot with the grays?’

To her credit, she’s a good sport, and plays along with a cheeky wink. ‘Yeah, he is. You wanna dance, handsome?’

‘Yes, he absolutely does!’ you answer quickly before he can get a word in.

‘What the fuck, Shiv?’ Frankie seethes through clenched teeth, literally digging his heels in, but to his despair, his shoes skid uselessly on the tiled surface as you push him towards the dancefloor with this complete stranger. 

Leaning in close, you hiss in his ear, ‘You’re getting laid tonight if it kills me, Morales.’

‘Have fun, Fish!’ calls out Pope impishly, which earns him an emphatic middle finger. 

You beam at Mrs. Morales smugly. ‘And that’s how it’s done.’

‘You better keep it up, young lady,’ she says over her shoulder as she turns to leave.

You raise your drink. ‘Don’t you worry, Mrs M. I promise you - he’ll be leaving with his future wife tonight!’

Santi is minding his own business, sipping on his beer as he stakes out the ladies, when a hand shoots out from nowhere and snatches the bottle from him.

‘What the fuck, man?!’ he bristles indignantly.

Frankie polishes off the drink in one mouthful, before slamming it onto the table and demanding, ‘Where’s Shiv? I’m done. I’m not fucking dancing with anyone else.’

Pope jerks his thumb to the other side of the room. ‘She’s arguing with your mother.’

Frankie flops into a chair, the dress shoes that he never wears are pinching his feet and he fights the urge to kick them off. He folds his arms across his chest petulantly, one palm over his mouth as his eyes wander across the hall to you, where you’re gesturing madly at his ma, embroiled in an impassioned discussion, probably still about his damn hair.

You’re all dressed up tonight, which is new to him - he’s only ever seen you in jeans when you go out drinking with them, and he’s certainly never seen so much of you. The ‘jumpsuit’ (he learns something new every day) is black and cut low both front and back, and fuck, all he sees is soft skin and the dip of your curves and red lipstick -

Pope must have nipped to the bar while he wasn’t looking, and a fresh bottle of beer appears under his nose. Glancing up at his best friend, Frankie mutters, ‘Thanks.’

‘You can’t marry her, Fish.’

He chokes violently at the casual non-sequitur, spraying beer everywhere. ‘What the fuck, Pope.’

Santi beams. ‘You got that look on your face, man. I’ve seen that look before.’

‘I don’t have a look on my face.’

He chuckles, mostly to himself. 'Damn, I really should've seen this coming.'

‘What are you even on about -’ Looking up, Frankie spots you making your way over and panics. ‘Shut the fuck up, pendejo.’

‘Why aren’t you dancing, my little debutante?’ you ask when you come within earshot.

Santi chortles and takes his leave, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Good luck, Fish.’

You sink into the empty seat next to him and he deliberately twists his body away from you, drinking deeply from his bottle to drown out Santi’s words ringing in his ears. 

‘So, I heard you have a bet going on with Benny. I want splitsies if you win.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, staring resolutely anywhere but at the swell of your cleavage. ‘No.’

‘40/60.’

‘Fuck off, Shiv.’

‘30/70?’ you counter-offer.

He sighs. ‘You’re impossible.’

Ignoring him, you jump up with a happy squeak when someone Frankie vaguely recognises as a girl who used to be in your class approaches with a shy smile. You pull her close by the crook of her arm and ask, ‘Morales, you remember Sadie?’

He tries not to scowl too openly as he too gets on his feet. ‘Sure, hi Sadie.’

Herding them towards the dancefloor, you grin, ‘Go dance, get reacquainted.’

As he passes by you, Frankie grits his teeth and curls his fingers into the meat of his palms to crush the urge to reach out and touch you. 

But it’s easier to fall into your well-rehearsed roles, to toe the line that has been drawn in the sand since you were teenagers. And easier is certainly the safer option when it comes to you.

So he throws you a deliberate glare over his shoulder, with a deadpanned, ‘I hate you.’

You blow him a kiss and grin wider.

Frankie can’t hold back a relieved sigh when the interminably long song finally ends, and the woman he’s dancing with - he won’t even pretend he remembers her name - tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jacket after tapping in her number. ‘Call me, gorgeous.’

He stopped counting after the eighth woman you shepherded his way. This is it. He’s not above hiding in the toilets if that’s what it takes to make this stop.

Except he’s not quick enough. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, marching straight towards him with a fresh glass of water and a look of purpose on your face.

He doesn’t exactly know what came over him. He could probably blame it on the one and a half beers that he downed, or being pushed to the end of his tether. Whatever it is, there’s something he has to say to you, and it can’t wait.

You push the glass into his grasp. ‘Here, hydrate.’

‘Shiv -’

You’ve already swivelled around, your focus somewhere else. ‘Where is she? She was literally just behind me -’

‘Shiv -’

‘Mind you, she’s a sweet girl, but clearly not the brightest tool in the -’

His patience snaps, and he barks, ‘Shiv!’

You spin around, brow furrowed in confusion, and snarl back, ‘What?’

Frankie pauses, and you blink as his warm eyes hold yours. On an exhale, he says, ‘You look nice tonight.’

You’re vaguely aware that your jaw has gone slack, but only because his eyes follow the movement, dropping to your mouth. He considers you for a moment, head tipping just slightly to the side as he watches you. Then, satisfied that he has your attention, he brings the glass of water to his lips, throwing his head back as he drinks. 

Your breath catches in your throat when his Adam’s apple bobs with his swallow, before he leisurely swipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Except in your mind, it’s not water that he’s wiping from his mouth.

In a perfectly mirrored imitation of what transpired between you earlier in the evening, he takes two measured steps forward, prompting you to back up against the table behind you. The tinkle of glasses falling over hardly registers in the back of your mind. 

The fabric of his suit is cool on your skin, brushing your bare arm as he looms over you, so broad and warm. Though his front barely makes contact, your peripheral vision gives and all you can see is him.

‘What are you doing?’ you croak the same words back at him, hating the way your voice shakes.

Frankie smiles - really smiles at you, with no colour of the usual irony or sarcasm. Warmth settles into the creases in the corners of his eyes as he holds up the empty glass. ‘Just putting my glass away,’ he says coolly, an edge of cockiness at your tragically obvious reaction to him.

You feel your cheeks heat up as he does just that - the back of his hand bumping into your forearm as he moves, the breadth of him pinning you against the table. He doesn’t pull away, clearly basking in the way the tables have well and truly turned -

‘Hi! You must be Frankie, I’m Jan.’

Frankie squeezes his eyes shut in irritation at the voice behind him, nostrils flaring as he collects himself. A resigned smile tugs at his lips, and he tips forward, his words grazing your ear. ‘Catch you later, Shiv.’

You only let your knees buckle when he’s safely out of sight.

You’ve barely stepped back into the reception hall from a much needed bathroom break to clear your head when someone grabs you by the arm, tugging you onto the dancefloor.

‘Benny!’ You reprimand, stumbling over your feet. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Relax, Shiv. Frankie can survive on his own for a second.’

‘You’re just jealous that he’s hogging all the ladies’ attention.’

He scoffs, palms on your waist as he sways to the music. ‘He has an unfair advantage, ok? How do I compete with the bride’s ex?’

Clasping your hands around Benny’s neck, you catch Frankie’s eye over his shoulder. You wink at him casually, having somewhat recovered your bravado - it’s easier to pretend from a distance anyway. He rolls his eyes at you over Jan’s head, but he doesn’t look away, watching you with a hint of something you can’t quite make out.

Glancing up at Benny, you ask a tad bashfully, ‘I know we give Frankie a hard time about all this, but is he - ok?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’

You hesitate. ‘Well, we’re not exactly that kind of friends.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know, the kind who sit around having heart-to-hearts and painting their nails.’

He raises an eyebrow. ‘What kind of friends are you, then?’ 

‘I don’t know, he probably doesn’t even count me as one,’ you admit. ‘He barely tolerates me on a good day.’

Benny shoots you a cryptic look, but before you can quiz him on it, he changes the subject abruptly. ‘Can I swing by the salon tomorrow morning? I have a promotional shoot at half past eleven.’

‘As long as you bring donuts and coffee.’

He twirls you around. ‘Deal.’

Frankie slinks out of the hotel, somehow managing to dodge both you and his mother on his way out, which he takes as a win.

It’s cold outside. He inhales deeply and feels it burn down his throat. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watches his breath mist in front of his face, savouring the quiet.

‘Hey.’

His shoulders stiffen. He knows he should’ve been the bigger man. Should’ve sought her out first, to congratulate her.

Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve.

When he turns around eventually, she smiles brightly at him, her engagement ring catching the lights.

Closing the space between them, he presses a kiss to her cheek. ‘Congratulations. You look beautiful.’

‘Thank you,’ she replies. ‘I’m glad you came. Your mum too - it was a long way to travel.’

His gaze falls to his shoes. ‘Yeah, well. You know she loves you.’

‘How are you?’ she presses on, always one for polite conversation. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

Frankie shrugs but doesn’t answer.

‘Just because it didn’t work between us doesn’t mean I want you to be happy.’

He nods slowly. ‘I appreciate that.’

She points behind her. ‘Well, I should go back inside.’

‘Of course. I’m happy for you,’ he says. And he means it.

The hotel doors swing open, and Frankie looks up at the sharp clack of heels on the concrete. You pause at the sight of them by the curb.

‘Are you leaving, Shiv?’ the bride laments as you walk over to give her a hug.

‘I am, I’m afraid, gotta open up shop early tomorrow,’ you pull back. ‘Come by the salon any time, my treat.’

Once the bride is out of earshot, you turn to Frankie, hands on hips. ‘Alright, no more shirking, Morales. Get your ass back in there, your mother is on my case again.’

He folds his arms across his chest. ‘Oh no, I’m not going back in there without you.’

You sigh dramatically. ‘Am I the only one in this town who’s not scared of your mother?’

‘You should be,’ he snorts, then nods towards the parking lot. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

Taken aback by his offer, you hesitate. ‘Um - I thought you were the designated driver for the guys tonight.’

He brushes off your concerns with an easy shrug. ‘I’ll come back to get them after I drop you off.’ 

Typical Frankie - he walks off without even glancing back to see if you’re coming with him.

You smile to yourself and follow.

You must be drunker than you realised, because you’re staring. Again. For what must be the fifth time in the ten-minute drive.

It’s a lot of staring, even for you.

His jacket lies abandoned in the backseat, his tie jostled loose and the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened, sleeves bunched up to his elbows. You watch from the corner of your eye as his left hand grips the top of the steering wheel steady, fingers flexing every now and then on straight stretches of road.

As if you’re not already discreetly squeezing your thighs together, he’s also rubbing his right palm idly on his leg, the innocent rustle of fabric against skin getting you far too hot and bothered under the metaphorical collar. 

And then - your eyes trail higher - settling on the heavy bulge at the top of his spread thighs.

Fuck. You’re definitely drunk.

You mull silently to yourself that you actually prefer him in his beat-up jeans and threadbare t-shirts before catching yourself. You weren’t aware you had any preferences when it comes to Frankie Morales. And you have no business doing so.

Clearing your throat, you break the tense silence. Well, tense for you, anyway. He seems completely oblivious to your inner strife.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t win the bet.’

His lips quirk, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

‘I had another five girls lined up for you, you know.’

He scoffs. ‘No, thank you.’

You reach over to punch him on the arm playfully. ‘C’mon, you know you enjoyed the attention, Morales.’

‘You don’t know me very well, do you?’ he peers at you.

You make a face of disbelief. ‘If you hated it that much, why did you go along with it?’

Cruising into your street, his truck rolls to a smooth stop outside your salon. Frankie kills the ignition, then turns towards you. His answer is simple, and hits you right between the ribs. 

‘Because you wanted me to.’

You force a chuckle in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Since when did you care about what I wanted?’

He smooths his palm over the steering wheel and holds your gaze. ‘Sometime when I wasn’t looking.’

It would be simpler to pretend you didn’t understand what he means. To brush off this pull between you as a champagne-induced episode that you could sleep off. If you did, you could still show up at Tuesday nights drinks next week as if nothing has changed, and carry on.

It would be simpler. So you ask -

‘Do you want to come in for a nightcap?’

Frankie follows two steps behind you as you grapple with the keys on the doorstep. Once inside, the salon is quiet, and you strategically turn on the lights by the backwash, the semi-darkness making it more homey than it would have been if fully lit up. 

‘I would invite you upstairs -’ you pause and add hastily, ‘I don’t mean upstairs like, upstairs in that way - it’s just that my apartment is tiny, and the backwash is the closest thing I have to a couch. Are you okay with beer?’

‘Beer’s good, thanks,’ he answers. ‘Need a hand?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘Oh god, please no - it’s a disaster upstairs. I’ll be right back.’

The rickety stairs creak loudly under your heels, and once you let yourself into your studio, you fall back heavily on the door, taking a second to catch your breath.

You invited him inside. 

He said yes.

You leap into action, shoving all your dirty laundry into the already full hamper. You try not to think too hard about why you’re cleaning up, you just hope you’re not making too much of a ruckus while you’re at it - because you have a boy waiting for you downstairs. 

Francisco Morales, of all people.

Despite having been in each other’s lives since high school, you’re pretty sure you’ve never been alone with him. Not even once. There’s always a buffer with Pope on his side, Benny on yours, and Will in the middle. And while some find Frankie hard to read, you’ve always known exactly how to act around him. You have an unwritten playbook - you bait him with cheap jokes, more often than not joining forces with Benny to gang up on him. He rolls his eyes and snaps at you to shut up. It’s the longest running show in town.

But this? Alone, after his ex’s wedding, in your salon? You’re going off-script and off-piste. Dangerous enough on a good day; outright stupid after a night of drinking.

Frankie is quick to help when you reappear, armed with beer and a bag of ice, using the backwash sink as a makeshift cooler. Your shoes clatter onto the floor as you settle in the chair next to his. Hugging your knees, you hold out your bottle, which he clinks with his.

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ you ask, rather mundanely.

‘As much fun as one is expected to have at an ex’s wedding,’ he answers with a sardonic smile. Taking a sip of beer, he adds, ‘Gotta admit, you winding up my ma pretty much made up for it.’

‘That never gets old,’ you smirk. ‘Although, I promised your mother you’d leave with your future wife tonight - so that’s a bust.’

You startle when Frankie chokes on his beer, his eyes visibly watering as he thumps a fist on his chest. When you ask if he’s ok, he won’t meet your gaze, downing more of his beer.

Not thinking anything of it, you move on. ‘You know, she sent a bunch of customers my way when I first opened up the salon.’

His voice is still a bit tight from his coughing fit. ‘And I’m sure she’ll deny it till the day she dies.’

‘I can’t figure her out,’ you admit. ‘I can’t decide if she hates me or not.’

‘She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t understand you.’

You hum, unconvinced.

He nudges your knee with his. ‘She was really proud of you when you opened the salon, you know.’

You toss him a sidelong glance. ‘You talk to your mum about me?’

He’s ambiguous in his answer. ‘She asks after you sometimes.’

‘And how would you have anything to say to her? We’re not exactly bosom buddies.’

Frankie concedes with a wry smile, ‘Benny talks.’

‘Ha!’ you laugh, echoing his words from a few days ago back at him. ‘Benjamin fucking Miller.’

He goes quiet for a second, looking around your salon as if taking stock. ‘It’s pretty amazing that you’ve built all this.’

The unexpected compliment catches you blindsided. You reply diplomatically, ‘Ashton helps me loads.’

Frankie’s eyes widen in feigned surprise. ‘Are you going humble on me now? What have you done to Shiv?’

‘Shut up,’ you grumble good-naturedly, adding, ‘Ben tells me you’re doing really well yourself.’

‘Yeah. I got promoted at work last month, and I’m saving up for a house,’ he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. ‘Things are looking up.’

‘You’re actually acknowledging your achievements?’ you gasp in mock outrage. ‘What have you done to Francisco Morales?’

With a shrug, he leans forward to put his empty beer bottle in the sink, but he doesn’t sit back. Instead, he sways even closer, one palm landing on the leather of your seat next to your knee, eyes darting to your lips. His voice is deep as he rasps, ‘Can I kiss you?’

It would be so easy to say yes, but when have you ever made things easy for yourself? 

Instead, you blurt out, ‘Why?’

Frankie looks amused, like he expected this from you. Slowly, not wanting to spook you, he gently plucks the beer that you’ve barely drunk from your grasp.

‘Because all fucking night, while you were throwing woman after woman at me, I just wanted to have a drink with you.’

He leans in close. 

You stop breathing.

‘Because since Wednesday, every time I wash my hair, I get hard thinking of you touching me.’

Closer still.

Your lungs ache.

‘And because when you told me to go harder, deeper - I nearly lost my fucking mind.’

He’s hovering over you now, and you can almost taste the bitter sweetness of the beer on his breath. He smirks at you, but there’s only warmth and mischief in it when he teases, ‘Speechless for once?’

‘Shut up, Morales,’ you breathe and grab him by the collar of his shirt.

And then you’re kissing him. You’re kissing Frankie, and he’s kissing you back.

It’s messy, and disorientating, and you clumsily fumble over each other until he’s sitting up in one of the chairs, with your thighs on either side of his narrow hips as you straddle him. He’s licking up into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, his hands gripping your sides almost painfully hard.

‘Is this really happening?’ you garble into his lips, ripping off his tie and undoing his shirt buttons as fast as your shaking fingers allow you to.

‘If you want it,’ he mumbles back, loath to pull back from you even for a second to shuck off his shirt. ‘If you want me.’

He kisses you wet and insistent, but he doesn’t push you, waiting for you to make up your mind. Reaching behind you, you tug on the tie that holds your jumpsuit together with a decisive pull, letting the fabric ripple down your bare front and pool around your waist.

Frankie bites his bottom lip so hard it goes white. ‘Fuck,’ he cusses, his grip on your hips twitching as he stares at your tits. ‘Can I, please -?’

‘Touch me, Francisco.’

Your poor second-hand Ikea bed that Benny helped set up when you moved in was not made for this.

This being the way Frankie effortlessly tosses you onto the mattress, his arms flexing with an easy strength that goes straight to your head, as you stare giddily up at him.

His hair - your handiwork - has been well and truly undone, errant strands falling over his eyes as he watches you, his broad frame looming over the foot of the bed. He pulls at his belt, which falls open with a careless clink, and he makes quick work of his now crumpled trousers, kicking them off impatiently.

Your head is swimming, yet somehow, you muster the strength to shuffle towards the edge of the bed, rearranging yourself to sit on your haunches, knees folded neatly beneath you. Boldly, you reach out to slide his dark boxers down his hips, and they fall around his knees and onto the floor. His cock springs free, half-hard and heavy, and Frankie swallows thickly as you tilt your face towards him.

‘I want to suck your cock.’

His eyes close as if he’s in pain, nostrils flaring at your words. Taking advantage of his distraction, you wrap one careful hand around his length, and he jerks violently at the first velvety slide of your palm against him. 

‘Fuck, Shiv -’ he chokes, eyes flying open at the contact, pupils completely blown. He protests weakly, ‘No, stop, need to get you off first -’

You shoot him a lopsided smile, pumping him slowly, your pulse racing at the way you feel him swell in your grasp. ‘Can we not argue this one time?’

You lean forward and, holding his gaze, flatten your tongue and lick your way up the underside of his cock. His breath stutters, one big hand moving to cradle the back of your head, his eyes wide and almost frantic as you press open-mouthed kisses on his sensitive flesh.

With an insolent grin, you tease, ‘You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Morales?’

He whimpers, and you know you have him.

His size is obvious by sight, but you really feel it in the pressure bearing down on the hinge of your jaw as you sink down on his cock, fighting to squeeze the girth of him into your mouth. The guttural groan from Frankie makes your pussy clench, and he tastes like he looks - clean, and all man. 

There’s no way you can take all of him, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. He’s hot under your touch, muscles pulled taut with tension that you can feel thrumming under his skin as you take your time with him. Focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat, you bob patiently up and down on him, slicking up his length with your spit, working him slightly deeper with every stroke - until you’re so full of him that you gag, hard.

Frankie is slack-jawed when you release him with an obscenely wet pop, spit trailing from your lips to the swollen tip of his cock, eyes wild as swipes his thumb across your puffy bottom lip. 

‘You’re beautiful,’ he declares, almost solemnly.

Slinking down his front, one hand securely around the base of his cock, you take him between your lips again, moaning at the salty taste of his precum, which makes him quake above you. As you swallow his length and pump your fist in tandem, your spit wetting your fingers, you peer up at him through your lashes - nothing could’ve prepared you for the utter wreckage that you find on his face. 

His lips are pulled back, baring his tidy teeth into a snarl as he very clearly struggles to hold himself back from fucking your mouth. You feel every bump and vein in his cock with each descent, the wet squelches filling in the gaps of his low grunts and moans. His grip in your hair stings as he starts panting in earnest above you, and somehow he gets even harder on your tongue, making it harder to breathe - 

‘Stop, stop,’ he wheezes suddenly, pulling back in a hasty retreat that has you whining at the sudden loss of him. ‘C’mere.’

He practically hauls you up against him, kissing you deeply, delving into your mouth to taste the bitterness of himself on your tongue. The world tilts on its axis when he tips you back onto the bed, and holding himself above you, he peels the jumpsuit off, leaving you in just your panties.

‘Gonna eat you out, baby,’ he drawls by your ear, trailing one palm up your body, which stops at your tits and squeezes. ‘Get you good and ready to take my big cock. How does that sound?’

‘Fuck, yes, Frankie, please,’ you beg.

There’s no shyness when he pushes your legs up and apart, and instead of taking your panties off, he hooks a finger under the thin fabric and pulls it to the side, his eyes darkening as he stares down at you.

‘So pretty,’ he praises you lowly. Holding your breath as he sinks onto his front, you breathe heavily in anticipation as his shoulders slot neatly underneath your legs. ‘Look at how wet you are for me. All this from sucking my cock?’

You nod frantically. ‘Frankie -’

Straight to the point as always, he ducks his dark head and drags the broad of his tongue over your clit - and you’re gone.

Admittedly, you have not had the best experiences with your exes. There was always too much gratuitous moaning and too little finesse, and afterwards, they always act like they deserve a medal for failing to get you off. But even if your past lovers had been more adequate in the field, you’re sure it still wouldn’t have prepared you for this. 

Frankie goes about it with a quiet focus that veers on reverential, the intensity in his dark eyes watching you makes your knees weak. He’s obviously picking up signs and reactions from you and adjusting his game plan accordingly, the pilot in him clearly in the driver’s seat. 

Not that he’s silent - far from it, you feel the reverberation in your core with every satisfied  hum deep in his chest, and the occasional, muttered fuck, so wet, want more in between licks and groans. But there’s nothing performative or showy about it, just a forthright competency that has you hurtling towards a toe-curling orgasm.

‘Frankie,’ you whine when you feel it about to hit. ‘Frankie Frankie Frankie -’

‘Eyes on me,’ he slurs against your sopping folds, and you listen - for once - watching him watch you fall apart on his tongue, thrashing in his hold as he grips you harder to keep you in place while he laps you up, until the burn of his patchy beard on your inner thighs makes you arch away from him from overstimulation.

Your pussy is still fluttering when he sinks two thick fingers into you, and he hisses at the way it clenches around him as he fucks you, leaving his digits slicked and slippery.

‘So tight, baby,’ he declares through gritted teeth, working you open for him. ‘Gonna feel so fucking good on my cock.’

You point towards the nightstand. ‘First drawer,’ you pant.

Needing no further prompting, Frankie yanks your panties off and flings the soaked scrap of fabric over his shoulder, then lunges at the cupboard where the condoms are. You scrape your nails over his thighs as he kneels over you, his usually steady hands visibly trembling as he tears into the wrapper and rolls the rubber over his heavy cock. He watches you with hooded eyes and settles between your legs, kissing you desperately as the swollen tip of him nudges at your entrance.

‘Ready?’ he asks, nose skimming yours sweetly.

You wind your arms around his neck, holding him close. ‘Fuck me, Frankie.’

The first push is a tight squeeze, and you can’t help the wince at the slight pinch as he sinks into you slowly. With a grunt of effort, he buries face into the slope of your neck and breathes, ‘Fuuuuck. You ok?’

‘Give me a second,’ you gasp, feeling your walls throb tightly around his length. ‘You’re so big, Frankie.’

He tangles his tongue with yours lazily in a deep kiss, before brushing his way down your throat and sucking on one nipple, making you cry out. He murmurs against your skin, ‘I know, but you’re doing so well for me, baby.’

Shifting your hips, Frankie groans when you slide him in deeper, the friction making you quiver beneath him. ‘Move, Frankie, please.’

He starts carefully, his strokes measured and deliberate, making sure you feel every inch of him as he draws back then sinks back in, exhaling shakily. ‘You feel so fucking good.’

‘Harder,’ you demand when you feel your pussy relax around him. ‘Fuck me harder.’

‘Shit,’ he growls and snaps his hips, drawing a squeal from you as he hits somewhere deep inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, bracing yourself as he drives into you again and again and again, the bedframe hitting the wall with each thrust.

‘So good, Frankie,’ you plead in between hard pants. ‘Keep going. Don’t stop -’

Looking up at him, you admire the way his hair falls over his eyes, swaying with his movement. Absent-mindedly, your fingers wander into his curls and his reaction is instant - he cries out, arching into your touch, his hips faltering as he seems to lose his rhythm. ‘Oh fuck, baby, been thinking about those hands all fucking week, just wanted to feel you touch me again -’

As wrecked as you are on his cock, you smile at his confession and slide your hands languidly in his locks, dragging your nails on his scalp, your chest swelling with pride when you watch his face - dazed and completely wrecked - fucking you so hard that you’re sure the bed is about to break.

When he finds his voice again, it’s your real name that slips past his lips. ‘Gonna cum so hard, oh fuck - I’m gonna -’

Frankie’s thrusting frantically into you, eyes screwed shut until his hips stutter and then - after one perfect moment of stillness suspended in time - shudder after shudder thunder through his body, your name a broken record as he spills into the condom, his scratchy baritone moaning into your neck as the frenzied energy bleeds out of him.

His weight pins you to the bed as he catches his breath, and you play with his curls gently, basking in the rumbling purr in his chest as you run the strands between your fingers. Eventually, gathering himself, he rolls off you to let you breathe, tying the condom neatly and tossing it into the trash can.

For a second, Frankie lies on his side, watching you quietly. You watch him back, casting your gaze over the curls stuck to his sweaty forehead and his broad outline backlit by your nightstand light. Before self-consciousness can settle into the small distance between you, he cracks a smile and quips, ‘You did say I’d get laid even if it killed you.’

You laugh, which makes him grin. One strong arm reaches out to tuck you into his side, securely beneath the duvet. You hum at the tickle of his beard on the back of your neck and the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

Right on the cusp of sleep, you sass, ‘Guess you’ll have to split the winnings with me after all.’

Any other day, you would’ve woken up if you heard someone on the stairwell. Hell, you’d hear if they were knocking on the salon door downstairs.

When you’re rudely shaken awake by frantic knocking on the studio door, you realise it’s because your hearing has been impaired by the side of a very warm body smooshed into your ear.

‘Shiv! Open up! I need to leave in fifteen minutes for my photoshoot!’

‘Shit,’ you croak, throat dry, limbs flailing as you try to sit up. ‘I forgot about Benny.’

‘Fuck him’, grouses Frankie, pulling you back into his arms, eyes still closed.

‘I can’t, I promised to help him with his hair. Fuck, do we need to hide you, or -’

‘The door’s thin, Shiv, I can hear him. And we put two and two together when you guys disappeared last night. We're pretty, but we ain't dumb!’

Frankie lets you go with a grumbled Benjamin fucking Miller under his breath, but he visibly perks up when you stumble out of bed naked.

You half-jokingly shield your boobs from his view. ‘Are you perving on me, Morales?’

He smirks, leaning back into the pillows with his hands folded behind his head while he eyes you appreciatively. It’s not fair how his triceps flex deliciously with the movement. ‘Why bother covering up? I’ve seen everything already.’

Trying - and failing - to shoot him a stern scowl, you pull on a robe and yank the door open, nearly careening backwards at the sight of Benny’s grinning face right in the doorway. 

‘Since when did you bang paying customers?’ he demands in lieu of a good morning.

You roll your eyes and usher him downstairs. ‘He’s not a paying customer. He’s on Pope’s tab.’

Benny flops into his usual chair, making it squeak, one eyebrow up as he does the air quotes. ‘Well, I guess we now know what kind of friends you guys are.’

‘Shut up, Miller,’ you gripe, but your mouth twists into a grin, giving you away as you set up.

‘Damn, that good, huh?’ he laughs. ‘I mean, Fish does have a rep, but I've never had insider confirmation.’

You point your styling scissors at him menacingly. ‘Shut up, or I won’t be held responsible if my hands slip by accident.’

Benny feeds you a sugar donut while you work quickly, trimming the ends before styling it, going for a tousled bed head look. You hear the water pipes run upstairs and the carpeted floors creak when Frankie gets up. Trying to play it cool, you only briefly glance up, catching a glimpse of him in the mirror as he makes his way down the stairs in his rumpled shirt and trousers, zipping up the fly when he reaches the bottom.

‘Morning, stud,’ sing-songs Benny, which earns him a slap on the head. ‘Ow! What the fuck, Shiv!’

Frankie loiters behind you for a second, scratching the back of his neck, before pulling you to one side. Not that it affords you much privacy anyway, with Benny wriggling his eyebrows impertinently at the two of you in the mirror.

‘I - uh -,’ he starts haltingly, one hand rubbing at the silver patch in his beard sheepishly. ‘I had a really good time last night.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ you smile.

His voice dipping lower, he asks, ‘Can I take you out to dinner sometime?’

Benny, being the shithead that he is, interjects loudly. ‘Hey lovebirds, I’m kind of on the clock here, if you don’t mind -’

‘She’ll get to you when she gets to you, Benjamin,’ snaps Frankie, one hand on his hip and the other pointing a stern finger at him.

Something about him being so assertive sends heat running up and down your spine. Stepping into his space - beaming when he doesn’t back away - you smooth a palm over the front of his shirt, unintentionally catching the rabbiting of his heart underneath.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrug nonchalantly. ‘Do you intend to come back as a cash-paying customer?’

His eyes flash with want, one hand closing around your hip and he leans down to let his heated words brush by your ear. ‘Not if I can keep paying in other ways.’

Reaching up, you run a hand through his curls, preening at the way he closes his eyes at your touch. ‘Alright then, take me to dinner, Francisco.’

Peering around you, Frankie barks, ‘Miller, I’m cashing in on our bet.’

‘Fuck’s sake. I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,’ he gripes, digging into his wallet reluctantly.

Swiping the bill from Benny, Frankie winks at you before pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth - chaste, but charged with meaning. ‘Looks like you paid for your own dinner, Shiv.’

With a roll of your eyes, you shake your head and playfully push him towards the door. ‘Get outta here before I change my mind!’

‘Yeah right - as if you would now that you know what you’ll be missing.’

You’re not sure which makes your jaw drop - his cocksure declaration or the roguish confidence with which he walks out the door. In either case, Benny howls with laughter as you struggle to stay on your feet, your kneecaps having been rendered completely useless.

Just as Frankie climbs into his truck, Ashton whistles to a stop outside the salon on his wheels. Jaw dropping at the sight of the disheveled pilot nodding at him through the windscreen, he abandons his bike right on the curb and dashes into the salon, the door banging against the wall as he rushes in.

‘Excuse me - what the fuck did I just miss?’ he demands frantically.

You roll your eyes. ‘Calm down, Ashton, it’s not what it looks like -’

‘It’s exactly what it looks like,’ interrupts Benny as he starts singing. ‘Shiv and Frankie sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-’

He breaks off with a yelp when you stuff a donut into his mouth to shut him up, sugar flying everywhere as Ashton picks you up and spins you around, squealing like a banshee the entire time.

‘You guys are the fucking worst,’ you laugh, out of breath by the time Ashton lets you go.

Glancing outside, where Frankie is still parked watching the whole embarrassing episode, he gives you one last wink and an amused grin before he pulls away from the curb.

In an almost exact repeat of the scene from a few days ago, Ashton joins you at the window, and the two of you watch, shoulder to shoulder, as Frankie smoothly steers his truck out of your street.

‘He even drives sexy,’ sighs Ashton dreamily. Nudging you in the side, he adds slyly, ‘You’re in so much trouble, Shiv.’

You grin. You know you are - and luckily, it’s not a spot of bother that you’ll be in a hurry getting out of anytime soon.

Notes: I'm so excited to have finally completed this little two-shot. The two of them have been hanging out in my head all these months, it feels amazing to finally yeet this part into the world! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you had as much fun as I did with these two 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ❤️

Now that I've got you here, if you want more of Shiv, I wrote some silly little drabbles of her hair appointments with our handsome Pedro boys for a recent milestone celebration. There are also some fun thoughts that came out of an impromptu Grays sleepover we had last week 🤍

I'm sure we'll see more of Shiv and Frankie somewhere down the line. For now, thank you again, I love you all so much ❤️

[abnormalaboutthecharacter]

headcannons about my f/os bc why not :33333

calculester :3

i believe that feller is a he/it if i’ve ever seen one

i also believe he’s pan :3

agender????maybe???i belibe☝️

he’s just a silly fella and i love him so much

very sweet and cuddly

in buggy’s kitty form, he absolutely loves the contrast between the soft, warm feeling of fur against its hands and fingers

i like to think during times where the weather gets super hot, buggy will just lay on top of cal (he doesn’t really mind :3c)

cal likes to gently bonk his screen on buggy to try and simulate a kiss

6’5…..hes a tall boy……

cal’s pet names 4 buggy: dear, sweetheart, love, honey

beetlejuice :D

pan :3c

he/it/they user to me(o em gee, twinzies:3)

dabbles a bit in she/her, just as a treat

agender too i thibk just as a treat

buggy and bj like to just be silly and fool around

bj plays a lot of pranks and such on buggy, buggy’s gotten used to them and will sometimes prank him back

sometimes bj will go a smidge too far with the pranks

^i think at the beginning of their relationship, if he went too far he’ll keep laughing for a bit before awkwardly apologizing. now, when they go too far, they’ll immediately apologize and spend the whole day cuddling and making it up to it

likes to watch videos on buggy’s screen(in its bot form)

he also figured out a way to play games on it

BIG BIG BIG cuddler, absolutely LOVES snuggling up with buggy(especially in kitty form)

5’6 just a smidge taller

beej’s pet names 4 buggy: kitty/kitten, doll, babe/baby, sugar, darling, sweetheart

april :o]

i think…..maybe…..she/they in my heart

maybe tgirl swag :3c she deserves it :3c

uhhhhhh idk maybe either bi or omni???? possibly☝️

she and buggy love to help each other with clown makeup :3

this is them to me:

since(i believe☝️) april is a streamer/idol of sorts, i like to think buggy helps her with her streams and such

5’4

she likes buggy’s bot form a bit more, mostly because they think it’s fun to see him blue screen whenever it gets flustered

also so that she can place stickers on them :3c

april’s pet names 4 buggy: kitty, honeypie, sweetie, baby, dear

doug :0

hmmm lemme put my thinking cap on…..

perchance genderfluid or something of the sort

…every pronoun all of them 👍

bi •w•

buggy helps him find(and buy-) any figures they’ve set her sights on

sometimes her slime will stick onto buggy, so buggy mostly stays in its bot form(easier clean up)

couples cosplay :DDD

5’2-5’3 :]

buggy gets fucking bombarded with stickers in their bot form

doug’s pet names 4 buggy: honey/hon, sugar, darling, doll

kinito :}

“he’s literally just a ball and legs why would you make him fat” “make him round make him fat and beautiful”

tboy swag too B] he/it

pan in my heart :D

demiromantic mayhaps :]]

found a way to transfer himself INTO buggy(in bot form)

i think he change height whenever but stays around 5’3-5’5

sometimes he goes to his reg. height(10ft) so that buggy can have a big pillow to cuddle :3

nito’s pet names 4 buggy: any and all pet names-(mostly uses my love)

*sun and moon -^-

sun is they/he and moon is it/he

both are either nonbinary or agender

sun is pan and moon is omni •w•👍

(much like cal) the two of them love the feeling of soft fur in between their fingers

sun and buggy preform little shows for the kiddos :]

moon and buggy sing lullabies to the kids when it’s nap time

both of them love cuddling and just being very affectionate to buggy

7 ft……tall fucking guys…….

sun/moon’s pet names 4 buggy: sunshine, starlight, dear, love, honey, darling, sweetheart

*eclipse too :>

it/they to me

agender swag B3

omni maybe 👍

edgar :)

good ol he/him, maybe it/its too just as a treat

agender :]

hmmmm….maybe bi

he enjoys every little talk he and buggy have, he just likes hearing them in general :]

i think it just loves buggy no matter what form their in, he doesn’t really have a preference

buggy makes a “humanoid” form for him and he’s just absolutely happy to be able to hug and kiss it!

5’1 when he’s in his humanoid form :]

buggy loves to just cuddle up with him(no matter the form), edgar loves it too

everyday he’ll be showered with kisses!!

pet names 4 buggy: darling, love, honey, doll, mine

[remyfire]

ooooh love this game! for beejhawk (obvs) - D, I, T, W <3

NSFW Headcanon Game General disclaimer that these are musings I'm having for my own interpretations of the boys

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I know Hawk being made CO for that episode was bullshit, but I'm coopting it because I like to think that Hawk and Beej have a dirty secret of Hawk just absolutely topping the shit out of Beej on that desk once Beej goaded him into it, and it definitely took the frustration and stress down a peg, and also it was the first time Hawk really took that level of control to the point of gagging Beej to keep him silent and being so quietly in command, and it absolutely rewrote some section of Beej's brain in shocked desire and made him immediately want to see it again. Just. You know. Not when Hawk was literally at the end of his rope and in a position he never needed to be put in. Just fun power play!!!

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

They are fucking EMBARRASSING together, holy SHIT. Like, no matter the verse, no matter the setting, no matter the timeline, once these two get over their shit and get together, they are so down bad for each other. They're ALREADY constantly touching and letting the eye contact linger. Do you know how bad that gets when they jump over that last hurdle between them and a relationship!!!

Definitely one of those things where even when they're trying to fuck in the messiest, filthiest, rudest ways possible, the second it's over they're totally baby and clinging to each other and whispering sweet things and making each other giggle. Like I'm disgusted just thinking about it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh wow, I feel like Hawk in particular would be the one always trawling for new toys? Like the one who's exceedingly curious about expanding his and Beej's repertoire with each other, so to speak, constantly fascinating by new sex toy advances or what he hears about other people creatively using.

idk why but I'm getting the vibe that Beej would love to use toys to ruin Hawk, and Hawk would love to use toys to see what happens in general to Beej when he does so. Like, Hawk would LOVE to ruin Beej too, but he's also just a curious little fucker who'd be grinning and teasing Beej the entire time that he's watching him twitch and writhe for him.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

I think Hawk has this obsession with wanting to be as much of a public tease as possible without pushing over the line, just flirting with and ruining Beej as subtly as he can to try to push him over the edge of just. Grabbing Hawk, taking him somewhere, taking him. And Hawk will be so incredibly smug about it when it finally works.

Alternatively if he can make Beej come in his pants just by teasing him, I think he'd be fine with that too.

[probablypaintingsomething]

Dooldle Beej says hi and asks for dooldle requests :-)

**Will do basically anything except beetlebabe**

[prolix-yuy]

Okay okay okay okay oKAY AMY. I held onto this because I read the warnings and almost passed out. I am READY. I am NOT PREPARED. I will ATTEMPT TO SURVIVE.

Some dared to ask, because they were foolish.

You never asked, because you understood.

(Nameless.)

AAAAAAAH the respect and care she has for him is so good, I know this is gonna blow my socks off if either of them will make the move already.

They're KISSING AMY I FEEL LIKE I'M FLYINGGGGGG I am so excited for them! Kissing Mando is an event I'll always swoon over, and I'm ready to melt into incoherency.

(Is this his first kiss?)

“I have,” he lingers, swallowing thickly to coat his drying voice, “wanted to do that—”

“I know,” you finish for the both of you, nodding against him. “So have I.”

Amy I apologize but this is probably going to devolve into reaction GIFs and screaming mostly. You've given us such a gift. They're so tentative, so gentle. My hearttttttt.

He groans under his breath as he chases the scratch of your nails, head tilting back. 

You pull that boy's hair, Princess, he might just cum on command!

His stern tone is only that much more attractive without the vocoder in the way. 

Hellll yeah baby!

“Let me help you lie back.”

(That isn’t a no.)

You tilt your chin to follow his voice. “Why?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Amy I am swooning over him referencing his first beej while giving those tiddies some lovin'. I feel like I'm not allowed to see this. This is too goddamn hot. My nethers are gonna explode.

Even if, at the end of this journey, there isn’t anyone left. The people in those nightmares. The memories you have yet to uncover.

You, still nameless in this vast world where strangers seem to know you better than you know yourself.

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters when you have him

And then you toss this heartbreaking sentiment in here. They really are becoming each other's worlds, and I want to bury my face in a pillow and scream about it.

“Show me how to”

AMY

before you can say anything more, his tongue flattens and drags along your folds until it reaches your clit.

“Don’t — don’t stop,” you urge, bucking into his mouth. “You’re doing so good.”

“Don’t make me beg you to fuck—”

“Do you want me to?”

“Then let me ask,” he decides for the both of you, taking a pause to dwell on what’s at stake before asking in full: “Do you want me to fuck you?”

This is it. 

This is how you die. 

Under Din Djarin on the Razor Crest, blindfolded and naked.

Blindfolded and naked and hearing him ask if you want him to fuck you.

Amy you absolute gorgeous being I am going to pass out. All the oxygen in my room is gone from panting so hard. Also:

“Let me savor having you.”

He says this, but deep down your heart swells knowing the real question:

Are you sure you really want me?

Every day. Here and now, you decide you want to hear this every single day until you’re on the soil of Coruscant, and even then.

ME TOO GURL

“I got you,” he tells you, rolling his hips while his fingers follow in fast, pressured circles. “So good. So, so good for me.”

Stars.

All you can see are stars.

And all you can feel is him.

Amy you have killed me with this chapter. I'm a bowl of jell-o with no sentience. I'm a puddle on the floor. I am full of love and horniness and happiness and it's all your fault. I love you. I need to lie down. I cannot wait to see what comes next. I'm gonna reread this so much. Okay byeeeeee.

    CHAPTER 15: NER GAI (MY NAME)

The POINT A TO POINT B Series

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: After almost losing you, Mando finally lets down his guard and crosses the point of no return.

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY) / Helmetless!Din, First Kiss, First Time, Oral (f!receiving), Nipple play, Blindfolds, Unprotected Sex, Missionary, Praise Kink (f/m receiving + giving), Have some feels with your spice

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: The long-awaited moment is here! I am beyond grateful for how much love this story has been shown. Thank you for your patience to my slowed schedule. This is for you; enjoy feelsy, long overdue smut.

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WHERE WE LEFT OFF | CHAPTER 14:

“You have always chosen to fight.” Within a pause he rises, breath shivering along your chin. “For the kid. For me. And I would…”

His words trail off, voice crackling. It repairs, returning with conviction.

“I would scorch the galaxy for you.”

Your lips part wordlessly, voice lost in his confession, but eventually sigh as the pad of his left thumb grazes your cheekbone with timid admiration. “Mando—”

“Din.” The word is so small you almost don’t hear it. He murmurs the next four words like an oath to a creed: “My name is Din.”

Keep reading

[rexscanonwife]

“Lucky me

I was ordinary

but with your love, you see

I am a po-o-o-o-o-oem writer!”

this is my self indulgent thing that I am drawing for myself today, I got the sketch done and thought ‘I don’t want to line this’ and so I didn’t, and honestly I like the element that the sketchiness brings to it! Anyways I’m marrying Louis Tully.

[cryptablog]

BeetleJuice HeadCanon

Okay so...

Y'know how Beej lived like (Much) before heaters and stuff?

And since his mom is an abusive demon woman she ain't coming up from the nether just to make his ass a blanket so Beej had to Learn how on his own.

So like if all the Warm Blankets in the Deetz/Maitlands house were in the wash and lydia was just like "FriCk I'm cold"

Beetlejuice would just fucking MAKE one.

not like the pop out of nowhere kind of 'make' no.

He gets yarn and shit and MAKES A FUCKIN' BLANKET. He gets thicc yarn from the Maitlands and is just like... "Here" and Lydia is just fucking confused as shit while he just Twisty ties this blanket together.