#getting real bitchy in the club

[rozaceous]

getting real exasperated w productivity-minded posts abt writing. like i get it, lord do i ever, abt wanting the words to flow and all bc when it all just comes out so easy it's the best feeling in the world. but going on abt how blocked you are, how long it's been since you updated your fic--i mean, i'm guilty of this too, but what i've come to a decision on is:

things take the time they fucking take.

fanfic writers are hobbyist writers, none of us are getting paid (we *better* not fucking be), we all have outside lives, this is for fun. and i actively disrespect the grind, there is no virtue in having a weekly-updated fic versus one that updates sporadically, just like length/output is no metric for value.

go take a walk, work on something else, stop fucking worrying. post a one-shot and go.

[joejhang]

andrew is so real for thinking neil is a hallucination cos now that we have outsider pov on him it's actually insane that he's a real person. like this is neil josten: he's the prettiest boy you've ever met. he's the runaway son of a serial killer. he has a million dollars but is afraid of spending money. he folds his clothes a specific way so he can tell when someone's gone through his stuff. he keeps a stalker's journal on the two greatest exy players of all time. he wears coloured contacts and they're brown. he paid a busboy $100 to knock him out cold. he insulted a celebrity athlete on live tv after trying to keep a low profile. he says he's trying to stay alive while running towards death like it's a race. he mouths off to the mafia. he respects your boundaries and is the first person ever to take you at face value and not consider you an out of control psychopath. he orders hits on your abusers. he has the most electric blue eyes you've ever seen. he looks great in clubbing clothes but dresses like he's homeless. he insults someone for their "intricate and endless daddy issues" while his father is a convicted mobster and serial killer. he didn't give a fuck when his teammate was killed. everyone seems to like him even though it's clear he's hiding a million secrets. he doesn't catch on to the many many hints you're giving him. he calls you out not for being a danger to others but for being a danger to yourself. he thinks you should be protected as well as trusting you to protect him (and you think, how can someone be a victim and a protector?). he doesn't give a flying fuck what literally anyone thinks about him. he comes back from being waterboarded and tortured and abused for weeks (to protect you) and is still as feisty and bitchy as before. except now he's a redhead and has many more scars. he is possibly the first person to ever make the active decision to protect you. he's willing to put himself in harm's way again and again and again so he won't lose you. he always has a cigarette but he never smokes. he says "you're not actually a sociopath are you?" and "the next time someone calls you soulless i might have to fight them". even though he's messy and a little oblivious he's sees you. he might be the only person to ever want you off your drugs. he wants to see you lose control, is aware that you're not out of control, you're actually so controlled and restrained all of the time and he wants to see you feel something, he wants you to be angry, be angry at him. he riles you up on purpose to see you show emotion, feel something. he's a runner and yet he's still possibly the bravest person you've ever met. he gets kidnapped and comes back even more bruised and battered than before and he's still a mouthy little shit who bitches at the press and cuts deals with the yakuza. he's most of the reason why the worst team in the nation ends up winning championships. he shoves a guy clean off his feet because they body checked you. he punched celebrity athlete riko moriyama in public, for you. he threatens him, for you. he's almost killed on live tv. he mouths off to the fbi. he watches the (second) best exy player in the world get shot. he also watches his father, notorious serial killer and gangster, get shot in front of him. and he laughs. he smiles. he kisses you and is never gonna run again and he's free and he wants to be with you, he wants you.

[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.���

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

okay hi just a warning rq my autocorrect is off bc it autocorrected my friend’s name to fuckin malayalam on accident. i dont like autocorrect.

ANYWAY! ive been listening to my lovely olivia rodrigo lately, specifically her new song obsessed. i wanted to know if you could make a fic with Ethan x fem! reader where readers bitchy friend has this ex (Ethan) and she made him out to be a real dick. like, manipulating and everything.

reader eventually meets him and it turns out that she remembers… a lot about him considering her friend is a constant yapper and cant shut up about him. Ethan actually turns out to be a real cutie patootie and could literally never hurt anyone.

a few days later theyd meet again at some club or party maybe where they end up hitting it off… a little too well.. yeah so she ends up in his bed (smut part, very dom ethan plspls 😛😛). they could be talking about something really random and then reader brings up how her friend basically completely lied about him and said he was a piece of shit when he really wasnt. like a realllll fluffy end before a small cliffhanger thats never gonna get finished where her friend ends up finding out and texting her.

so sorry if thats too long or confusing idk but i actually love your work so much im lowkey your #1 fan. ���😍😍

HELLO! I switched this up a little, I hope that's okay! 💕

Also, I fucking loved the 'leave it on a cliffhanger part that won't get finished' because WHY IS THAT WHAT I DO lmao

Obsessed - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 1

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 2

Summary: Your friend told you horrible lies about her ex-boyfriend, and once you get to know him, you realize he's not the monster she made him out to be.

Contains: Mentions of a toxic relationship, Dom-ish cocky Ethan, rough-ish sex, oral - f receiving, p in v, fluff (If I missed anything, PLEASE let me know. I'm sleep deprived atm)

A/N: This was the one that pulled me out of my writers block, lmao. It's still not where I want it to be, but I'm TRYING. I'll try to post more this week, but I will be busy so bear with me haha.

You didn’t know Ethan Landry, but you knew you didn’t like him. He used to date one of your friends, and after hearing all the horrible things he’d said and done during their relationship, you thought he was really scummy.

They dated in high school and couldn’t get enough of each other, so they wanted to go to the same college. They broke up right before freshman year started, and after almost a year, she still talked about him every chance she got. She’d tell you how controlling he was. The things he’d call her when he was mad. How he cheated on her. You couldn’t believe that she stayed in the relationship for as long as she did, because she never had anything good to say, except that she loved him.

You’d seen pictures of him, and after walking into one of your classes at the start of the new semester, you saw him in person for the first time. He was so shy as he took his seat in the lecture hall, some of the girls making their little comments about the rumors they’d heard about him. He didn’t seem like the type that would do the things your friend said, but maybe he was just really good at playing innocent. All you knew was that you needed to keep your distance from him.

When you met up with your friend later that day for lunch, you didn’t know if you wanted to bring up Ethan being in the same class as you, but once she brought him up, you decided to tell her.

“Speaking of Ethan…I saw him today,” you said, before taking a bite of your food. Her face dropped as she looked at you.

“Where did you see him?” she questioned. You explained that you saw him in one of your new classes, and she rolled her eyes. “Can you believe he still tries to text me?”

“What I can’t believe is that you haven’t blocked him,” you said, “I know I’d hate to see someone that treated me like shit’s name pop up on my phone.”

She started to giggle as you curiously stared at her. “I have him saved in my phone as ‘Tall loser with a small dick’, so I laugh every time he does text me.”

“That’s not toxic at all,” you said, as you started to think about what she’d said. “Wait, he treated you as bad as he did and has a small dick? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“All he had going for him was that he was cute,” she said, “But seriously, if I were you, I’d stay away from him.”

“Oh, please. Like I’d even want to be near him.”

Your morning wasn’t going as expected. You slept through all of your alarms; you didn’t have time to stop for coffee. You didn’t think your day could get any worse, until you walked into class and noticed the only empty seat available was beside Ethan. You took a deep breath before you walked over and sat down. Once you reached into your backpack, you realized that your laptop wasn’t there. You were in such a hurry when you ran out of your dorm and didn’t even think to grab it.

“Shit,” you whispered, “I’m so stupid.”

“Here,” Ethan said, passing you a notebook and a pen. You curiously looked at him as he offered a weak smile. “I always keep an extra notebook, just in case.”

“Thanks,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips.

Once class started, you were taking your notes, but you kept glancing over to Ethan. He was so focused on typing that he didn’t notice, but you couldn’t help but wonder if everything your friend told you was true. At that moment, he didn’t seem like a jerk. Then again, he had only spoken a handful of words to you.

Ethan was aware of all the things that were said about him. He hoped that after a few weeks it all would’ve blown over, but once you have an angry ex-girlfriend paint you as some horrible, emotionally abusive asshole, it’s hard to come back from that. He knew that it was best for him to just keep his head down until he was able to transfer to a different school, where no one knew who he was. He was miserable at Blackmore, and he really had no reason to stick around, aside from the few friends he’d made.

After class was over, you tore the pages of notes you’d taken from the notebook to give it back to Ethan.

“Thanks again,” you said, as you handed it back to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said, shoving it back in his backpack. “I thought about just emailing you my notes, but I didn’t know if you’d want that.”

“You’re telling me I didn’t have to spend the last hour trying to write that fast?” you asked, as he flashed you a sweet, genuine smile. “Why wouldn’t someone want that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because most people here hate me,” he said, sliding the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. “You’ve probably heard things about me.”

“Yeah…are they true?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“You’re the first person that’s asked me that. Everyone else just assumes everything is true,” he sighed, “But no, I’m not a bad person.”

You started to feel so guilty. You’d said plenty of bad things about him, but you only heard one side of the story. With your friends’ story changing so many times, getting more dramatic each time she told it, you were starting to realize that it was all bullshit. You still didn’t know exactly what happened, but you were curious to know what the truth was.

“You okay?” Ethan asked, noticing that you were lost in thought as you stood in front of him.

“I’m friends with your ex,” you said, as his smile slowly fell. “What’s the real story?”

He sat back down in his seat as the other students piled out of the room. You sat beside him as you waited for him to speak.

“I really loved her…but she was just so controlling. Then she cheated on me when she went to the beach with her family. I didn’t find out about that until right before we started college,” he said, looking over to you. “She was pissed that I broke up with her, then all these horrible things about me started going around.”

“That’s fucked up,” you said, as he nodded.

“Yeah, she’s still been trying to text me. I finally blocked her a few days ago.”

“Wait, she said you’ve been trying to text her,” you said, his eyes growing wide at your words.

“Her number’s been deleted from my phone for months. I have no interest in talking to her,” he said, “I know this must be weird for you since you are her friend, but I think it’s cool that you wanted to hear me out.”

“Well, I feel like I need to apologize…I’ve said some things about you that weren’t true.”

“She’s a good liar. She has almost the entire school hating me so it doesn’t surprise me that her friend does, too,” he said, as he stood back up.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, smiling at him. “I don’t know if you’d want to, and I know she’d kill me, but if you ever want to hang out sometime, let me know.”

“I’d like that.”

Ethan was kicking himself for not asking you for your number, or shit, even your social media so he could DM you. He thought you were beautiful, but he knew that hoping for a chance with you would be a reach. He really just needed more people in his life that believed him to make the time he still had at the university more enjoyable.

Your friend begged you to come to a random frat party that you didn’t feel like going to in the first place. After your talk with Ethan, you weren’t even sure you wanted to be around her. You still went, and after searching for her for almost an hour, you checked your phone to see a message from her that she wasn’t coming, and that she ran into one of the guys she’d been hooking up with on the way to the party.

“Why the fuck am I even here?” you said to yourself as you locked your phone and slid it into the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hopefully to hang out with me, if your offer’s still good,” you heard from behind you, recognizing Ethan’s voice.

“Hey,” you said as you turned to face him. “I didn’t expect to see the most hated man on campus here.”

“My roommate told me that if I stayed in my dorm tonight, he’d throw my Xbox out the window,” he said, glancing over to the muscular guy that was watching Ethan talk to you.

“Ah, so you were threatened into being social,” you said, as he started to laugh.

“I guess you could say that. Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Ethan wasn’t much of a drinker; you could tell by the sour look on his face every time he took a sip. It gave him a little confidence though, as the two of you talked and got to know each other a little better.

“I don’t think I can drink this anymore,” he said, sitting the cup down on a table. You sat yours down too, and as soon as you did, someone bumped into you, shoving you into Ethan.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, looking up at him. Your chest was pressed closely against his, his hands on your hips from catching you.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, “You can stay this close to me all night, if you want.”

“Are you always this smooth? Or is it the alcohol?” you questioned as he smirked at you.

“I’m only buzzed,” he said, before he leaned down, placing his lips on yours.

Chad was still watching Ethan from afar, cheering and thrusting his fist in the air once he saw Ethan kiss you. He started to laugh against your lips before he pulled away to stare daggers through his roommate for interrupting the moment.

“I can’t take him anywhere,” Ethan said, as you smiled at him.

“We could go somewhere more private,” you suggested, as he took your hand in his.

“Want to go back to my dorm? He’ll be here for a while so I know we can talk without being interrupted.”

“Sure!”

Once you made it back to Ethan’s dorm, you were starting to think that he really did just want to talk. You enjoyed listening to him, though. He was telling you about all his hobbies and interests, and you were telling him yours. You started to glance around his side of the dorm room, noticing the cliché, dorky things you’d expect to see.

“Nice Star Wars poster, nerd,” you joked, as he smirked at you.

“Oh, I’m a nerd?” he said, as he nudged you back on his bed. He was hovering over you, his mouth inches from yours. The sexual tension got so thick as his eyes looked into yours, his hand rubbing your hip.

“Mhm,” you said, the corner of your bottom lip in between your teeth. “A hot nerd.”

He felt his cheeks start to heat up, and he really didn’t want you to notice, so he leaned down to finally connect his lips to yours. It didn’t take long for the kiss to get more intense, his tongue brushing across your bottom lip. You let him deepen the kiss, his tongue moving with yours as his hands started to roam. You whimpered into the kiss once his hand squeezed your thigh, your hips started to squirm underneath him.

He pulled away but still stayed close so the two of you could catch your breath. You were reading each other’s faces, and it was obvious that you both wanted more.

“How far do you want this to go?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as his eyes looked into yours.

“As far as you want,” you said, your sweet tone making him groan.

“That’s not what I asked you,” he said, as he leaned back down to kiss your neck. His curls were tickling you, but the only reaction you had were the soft moans slipping past your lips from how well his mouth moved. His hips were rutting into yours, showing you how hard he was for you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, as he pulled away to look at you.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Ethan was a little, well, very eager. He got you undressed in what felt like seconds, leaving you in just your panties. Once he stripped down to just his boxers, you got a little curious. You glanced down to see his hard cock straining against the fabric, and started to laugh to yourself, your gaze going to the ceiling.

“What’s funny?” he asked, as he hovered back over you to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Your laughing stopped, a gasp slipping out when he started to suck. “I asked you a question,” he teased, before moving to the other side.

“She really does lie about everything,” you said, as his tongue swirled. “She said you had a small dick.”

He started to laugh against you, before he pulled back. “That’s funny, because she couldn’t take it.”

“I can,” you said, his smile turning to a smirk as his hand trailed down your body to rub you over your panties.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, as he moved lower down the bed to position himself between your thighs.

He slid your panties down your legs, before running his fingers over your wet pussy. Your eyes stayed on him, your bottom lip in between your teeth as he teased you. Your anticipation just kept building as he moved down the bed, positioning himself in between your thighs. He leaned in, slipping his tongue inside your entrance.

He was sloppily eating you out, his head moving from side to side. His arms hooked under your thighs to pull you as close to his face as he could as your hands went to his hair.

“So good,” you whimpered, your breathing getting faster as he worked you closer to your orgasm.

He slid his tongue out of you to focus on your clit, quickly replacing it with two of his fingers. Your back was arching off the bed as he moved his arm back and forth, applying as much pressure as he could to that spongy spot inside you as he sucked on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you babbled, as he started to chuckle with your clit in his mouth.

That was all it took for your legs to start shaking and your grip on his hair getting even tighter. Once your pussy started to clench around him, he slowed his fingers to a slow roll, not wanting to overstimulate you. His tongue gently licked your clit as he worked you through it, your whimpers getting softer as you came down from your high.

“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you admitted through your shaky breathing. Ethan started to laugh a little as you looked at him, your eyes hazy. “What?”

“Just wait until I’m inside you,” he cockily said, “You still confident that you can handle it?”

“I know I can,” you said, your legs instinctively spreading wide for him as his fingertips ran up your thigh.

“What are you going to do when no one else can make you feel as good as I do?” he questioned, as one of his fingers started to rub circles on your clit.

“I guess I’d have to keep you around then,” you said, as he shook his head.

“You’d only have me until summer starts,” he said, his finger moving faster. “I’m transferring to a different school after this year.”

“No, you’re not..fuck. I’ll convince you to stay,” you said, relaxing into the bed as he teased you.

Ethan pulled his hand away from your pussy before he slid his boxers off. He crawled back on top of you and reached over to his bedside table to grab a condom.

“I might let you convince me,” he said, as he lined up with your entrance. You tensed up a little because you knew how big he was. “Relax, baby.”

You did as he said, taking a deep breath as he inched his way inside of you. You were moaning as he stretched you out, and when you thought he was all the way in, he just kept going.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, feeling so full as he finally came to a stop, wanting to give you plenty of time to adjust. “Told you..Fuck, I told you I could take it,” you said, already struggling to speak.

“Don’t get cocky,” he said, your mouth falling open as he started to move. “I’m going to ruin this pussy.”

“Ruin it,” you said, challenging him as your lusty, hooded eyes connected with his.

It took everything in Ethan to not immediately start pounding into you, but he didn’t want to hurt you. He started slow, your eyebrows already furrowing together, low moans slipping past your lips. The head of his cock hit that special spot every single time, but you needed more. He sped up a little as your legs wrapped around him, your hands gripped tightly around his biceps.

“Maybe you can take it,” he said, his breathing getting heavier. “Can I go faster?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, as his hips moved quicker.

Your brain was starting to turn to mush, the babbles slipping past your lips making absolutely no sense. The only thing your mind could process in that moment was how good Ethan was making you feel. He thought you were adorable, already so cock drunk, and he wasn’t even close to being done with you yet. He kept his pace, but occasionally thrust a little harder to see if you could take it, the loud moans slipping past your lips as your nails started to dig into his arms letting him know that you could.

He angled your hips to go even deeper. His pace was a little slow as he made sure you were okay. Your eyes were pleading with him to go faster, because you knew the words weren’t going to come out of your mouth. It was getting so hard for him to hold back, so he finally let go. He started to pound into you so hard that your skin was tingling, all the nerves in your body on edge. Your toes were curling as he slammed into your g-spot, your whimpers turning to cries as you felt your orgasm starting to build. It was hard for you to keep your eyes open, and you were sure Ethan was going to have your nail marks on his arms forever with how hard you were squeezing him.

“Fuck,” was the only word you were able to get out, your legs wrapping tightly around him as your body started to involuntarily jolt. Ethan was sure that everyone in the surrounding dorm rooms knew what was happening, because you were being so loud. He wasn’t letting up though. He loved that he was making you feel that good.

It only took a few more deep thrusts before your entire body started to tremble, loud whines flooding out of your mouth as the wave of euphoria washed over you. He chased his own orgasm as he fucked you through it, your pussy clenching him so tight that he was moaning himself.

“I’m almost there, baby,” he said, a slight rasp in his voice from all the panting he’d been doing.

You went limp, your grip on his arms and your legs around his waist relaxing as his hips started to falter, a loud groan slipping past his lips as he released into the condom.

He took a minute to catch his breath before he slid out of you. His abs were burning and his arms were sore from your nails, but he quickly got up to take the condom off so he could take care of you.

He crawled in the bed next to you as you adjusted to lay your head on his chest, still so fucked out that it was hard to process your thoughts. Ethan just held you close, his hands softly rubbing over your bare back as you relaxed into his touches.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked, after a few minutes of you not saying anything. You lazily nodded as your hand moved to rub across his chest.

You laid there in silence as you started to think about what’d just happened. You knew your friend was going to be pissed if she ever found out, but did that even matter? She made almost the entire university hate Ethan for things he never did, and it made you sad that he felt like he needed to switch to a different school so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.

“So…” you finally said, “How can I convince you to stay?”

He let out a nervous laugh, not knowing the best way to respond. “I can’t take people talking about me the way they do anymore.”

“Even if I convince everyone that it was all lies?” you questioned, your tone playful as you angled your head to look at him. “I think it’d be awful for you to leave because of her. You could miss out on someone that would treat you right.”

“Someone like you?” he questioned as he looked down at you. You nodded, before he leaned down to kiss you. “You’re good at this whole convincing thing.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” you asked, smiling as you sat up to look at him.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t break my heart,” he said, wrapping his arms around you to pull you back down to his chest.

“I won’t.”

You stayed in Ethan’s bed for a couple hours, making plans for all the dates he wanted to take you on. It felt like you’d known him for way longer than just a few days, the two of you having an instant connection. You hated to pull away from him, but you knew you needed to get dressed before his roommate got home.

“It’s late, can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asked, as he started to put his clothes back on.

“I can’t believe I thought you were this horrible monster. You’re so sweet,” you said, as he smiled at you. “Yeah, you can walk me home.”

Ethan walked you to the front door of your building, pulling you into a gentle kiss before he pulled away.

“I’ll text you,” he said, as he started to back away.

“Yeah, let me know when you make it back to your dorm, please,” you said, as he nodded.

When you made it upstairs and got settled into your bed, you heard your phone vibrate as it charged on your bedside table. You grabbed it and saw a goodnight message from Ethan, a huge smile on your face as you responded to him. You were so exhausted from the time you’d spend with him, and you soon felt yourself start to doze off. You heard your phone buzz again, your eyes lazily opening to see if it was Ethan. You took a deep breath once you read the message that was sent to you.

‘Why the fuck were you kissing Ethan at that party?’

[wheneverfeasible]

I’ve been thinking about a memory I have and it honestly makes me think of Steddie, because the brainrot is real.

cw: alcohol

So we’re at a 24 hr diner late one night, Denny’s to be exact, which was our go-to to place after clubbing or bar hopping. Our server was a beautiful woman that my friend was immediately infatuated with, so they took a sugar packet and wrote their number down on it and I don’t remember if they just wrote that they used a sugar packet because the server was sweet or did it in a haiku (they were/still kind of are obsessed with haikus) but yeah, they were really nervous though so they just left the sugar packet with the bill/tip on the table to not be too creepy or pressure them.

Nothing ever came of it, of course, but I randomly think about that a lot.

And so then I started thinking about…

Modern au diner server Steve Harrington, working a midnight shift, used to having the drunks and the like come in during that time. It was usually slow, but sometimes they could make a mess and be too loud and it grates on him sometimes.

And then in comes Corroded Coffin, a mildly but maybe only locally famous up and coming band who just got back from clubbing or something, maybe a post gig or post record label signing celebration, whatever. Anyways, they look like they’re going to cause problems and Steve is SO not here for it.

Except Eddie Munson takes one look at their absolute Adonis of a server and is immediately in love. Where he had been loudly engaged with the band mere moments before, now he’s subdued and hiding behind his hair every time Steve comes over. The other boys notice immediately, of course, and rib him for it, asking Steve all sorts of questions to keep him nearby like the specials and such.

Steve is assuming their being assholes, maybe laughing at him for his job because he’s seen the type before and he’s already expecting zero tip, and he tries to keep a professional smile on his face but sometimes some of his bitchiness comes through, which makes Eddie even more infatuated tbh.

Eddie, stuck against the window on one of the booth benches with Jeff on the aisle side, elbows Jeff in the ribs once Steve leaves. The boys settle down some but encourage Eddie to ask for the guy’s number. Eddie is far too shy when he actually likes someone though so he just blushes and stammers and figures someone like Steve wouldn’t be interested in him. He doesn’t even know if the guy likes guys!

But, seized by a moment of bravery, he snags a packet from the sugar dispenser on the table and writes a little haiku or lyric on it about how Steve is sweet like sugar and scrawls his number as well. They eventually leave, leaving a large tip because they know they were drunk and assholes and they know the service industry well as, while tipping culture is a plague upon humanity, it’s not the employees fault and they remember well when tips was how they afforded rent even when they couldn’t afford groceries. And dealing with them? Yeah, Steve deserves a nice tip.

(Eddie squawks and threatens to kill off Gareth in their side DnD game when Gareth suggests a different kind of tip, blushing from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes.)

Anyways, the CC boys leave and Eddie assumes nothing will ever come of it, assumes maybe that Steve would even be a little grossed out by Eddie hitting on his server, which is of course why Eddie waited until there was no obligation to deal with Eddie again because he didn’t want to make Steve uncomfortable. They climb into the van (one of the other boys was DD of course), the boys teasing Eddie, but eventually they get back to their shared living space and pass out.

Later, when Eddie wakes up covered in drool, he sees a new message on his phone from an unknown number.

Clutching his phone to his chest with a goofy smile, Eddie stared with heart eyes up at the ceiling.

Yeah. He was in love.

~

Hostage Hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[aryxchse]

school president and the troublemaker. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n ; hello ya'll it's ya fav daughter of hera writer, this fic is written while i listened to my 'old bts songs' playlist, you know i'm talkin' about you just one day!!!

warnings : cursing, teenagers (that's should be a warning), this is writed by according to my countries school rules so deal with it, also grover, y/n, annabeth and percy are my favorite gang fr, rival-ish friends to lovers??, percy beating the shit out of some guy, mentions of staring, blood, no kiss on the lips ugh

"i fucking hate mondays," the son of poseidon whined, crossing his arms on his desk and leaning his head on them.

the first two class was history, which it didn't made anything better for him. he was a math guy, he didn't liked reading and stuff. but you and annabeth seemed to really enjoy it, even though annabeth is literally dislexic while your adhd was messing with your head.

grover sighed in front of him, leaning his head back until it rested on percy's desk. "i know right?" he said, fixing his green beanie. annabeth and you sighed, rolling your eyes at the two lazy boys.

"oh please, today's class is about mythology. i'm going to fuck that bitch up," annabeth said, smiling at you. you smiled back, knowing how much she hated your history teacher.

"you're fucking every teacher beth." percy yawned next to you, looking at the blonde girl. "they all hate you at this point for real."

"don't care," annabeth shrugged, looking like she was proud of herself. which she was. "they should educate people with truth, not a fucking lie."

"speak louder queen!" you agreed with her, while taking notes to your clipboard. there was a lot of shit going on in this big ass school, and you didn't know why you wanted to be a president of it this much.

at the beginning of the year, percy told you that you shouldn't get ahead of yourself—meaning that you guys can get expelled any day. but it never happened, it was yours second year in this school. three demigod's and one satyr, in the same school for two years. they should write and teach this in history too!

you had a way of talking out of problems, so whenever you four caused a trouble, everyone acted like nothing happened because of the mist. you controlled it in some type of way, because you wanted to be a president of some school before you become an adult.

back to now, percy peeked from your shoulder to see what you were writing on the clipboard.

— TO DO LIST —

visit the art, music and sport club to see if they need anything ✓

send the principal the needs of the clubs ✓

hang the new concert posters to schools board ✓

check if the p.e class needs anything

meeting with the other members at 13.00, lunch break

take the list of needed books in the library and hand the list to principal ✓

help the teachers or principal with the paperwork or sending them to where they should go ✓ (done for today)

you tapped your pen on the clipboard, focusing on the tasks you haven't done yet. percy sighed next to you, getting overwhelmed with how much work you had.

percy and annabeth was in the president club thingy with you, annabeth was the leader of the library club while percy was the sport clubs. they handed you the lists you writed on your clipboard. percy joined you to skip some classes and spend some time with you while annabeth just liked to be in charge.

"i didn't know we had a meeting today," percy whispered to you as the bitchy history teacher came into class. you rolled your eyes at the boy, putting the clipboard away to open your history notebook.

"i literally texted it in our groupchat. but you decided to ignore it and write 'what are we doing after school tomorrow?'" you reminded him. percy was about to answer you, but the teacher started yelling.

"alright kids, today we're learning about the twelve olympians and their wars!"

the four of you tried your hardest to not laugh, instead sharing side-eyes.

"man, for the first time this class will be fun," percy said, resting his cheek on his palm.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

the class was indeed fun.

annabeth had so much fun fixing the teacher's every mistake while the rest of you tried not to laugh. but you took notes anyway. you wrote the notes in ancient greek for the gang to copy from you, since they had dislexia and couldn't read.

"you're the best," annabeth said, kissing your cheek as you handed her the notes. you smiled, blowing a kiss to her way as a response. grover sat next to annabeth while eating a vegan sandwich, and percy was trying to get a drink from the machine.

"ya'll have any more cents?" percy asked, angry at the machine. you sighed and stood up, giving a good kick to the machine. it started working again, dropping percy's blue coke with some snacks. you smiled at him, flipping your hair while you returned to your seat.

"like i didn't know how to do that," he murmured, taking his drink with his now free snacks. he gave the chips to annabeth while handing the m&m's to you. he took the fish cracker to himself, holding it in his mouth to open his coke.

there was this little table at the end of the corridor, right next to the food machine. it was you guys usual spot, and everyone knew it. except the lunch times at the cafeteria, you four always hanged around here.

annabeth rested her back against the wall, laying her feet on top of grover's lap. the satyr didn't mind, since they usually sit like that. your seat was in front of annabeth, as you rested your head against your palm, taking a support from the wall. percy leaned against you, putting his whole weight on you while he eated the fish crackers messily.

you paid no attention to him as you wrote something on your clipboard again. "did we have anything missing in p.e class? like some new basketball's?"

annabeth looked up as she thinked for a moment. "the new one we got apperantly blowed up, at least that's what james told me." you groaned, smashing your head -gently- to the table. "i fucking hate basketball team."

"same," grover said, eating percy's now empty diet coke. "they're like hydra's."

percy laughed at that, making a fist bump with grover.

"when was the meeting again?" grover asked after the laugh session with percy. you groaned again, head still on the table. "read the fucking group chat for gods' sake!"

"man, chill." grover raised his hands in defeat. annabeth closed her own notebook while handing you yours. "thanks babe." she said, patting your head gently. you only made thumbs up to her, leaving the notebook on the table.

percy sighed and sat straight, putting your notebook in your bag. he held you by the waist and made you lean to his shoulder, taking your clipboard away from you. "you've already done almost everything here, the others are useless." he said, voice soft.

you hugged percy's arm to support yourself and annabeth slightly smiled to herself. as your chin rested on top of his shoulder, you looked at the clipboard. "i know but the p.e class is worst than everything i did there, it's so tiring."

"i can help you, you know." he said, putting the clipboard on the table and looking at you. you pulled yourself away to look in his eyes. how those ocean eyes can held so much care in them?

"but you hate checking p.e class," you said quietly, hands still lazily on his bicep. he smirked, putting his own hand on top of yours.

"if it's going to make you shut up, then i'll be glad to help." he teased, and you can see it in his expression. you only rolled your eyes, smile betraying your fake annoyance.

"wow, what a nice man you are percy jackson." you complimented, patting his bicep. he flexed them while he gave you a cocky look. "i know pretty."

"i'm gonna throw up," annabeth said, still smiling. grover nodded, gagging playfully. you both sticked your tongue out to them, chuckling.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"that's it, i'm not fucking letting you help me through the p.e class check again." you hissed, making percy sit on the infirmary bed.

he fucking had a fight. apperantly some guy from the soccer team checked you out in that pretty school skirt of yours, and percy noticed it. you didn't know why he was this protective or annoyed when it camed to other guys, but now you had to deal with his bloody lip and eyebrow.

"he was fucking you with his eyes, what i was gonna do? give him a view?" he snapped back, his normally sweet shade of sea green eyes now as dark as a storm. you hated when percy looked at you like this. his hatred was easier to see. it wasn't towards to you, it's never towards to you. but you can't help but feel like you're being attacked too.

"nothing, percy. nothing!" you said, your own eyebrows furrowed. no one was in the infirmary because the school sucked at being responsible. you made sure to point this to principal too.

luckily, your best friend was a demigod, who can heal with water. but unluckily for you, there was no water near. so, you had to caress his wounds like the old ways. still, he healed much faster than a mortal could.

the moment alcoholed cotten touched his lip, he hissed. "what the fuck you mean nothing?" he said, but his voice wasn't loud. "you- you had a crush on him or something?" the last sentence camed out his lip weak.

you rolled your eyes at the boy, who's now had a worried expression on his face. you couldn't understand why, but he looked like he could cry if you touched him. "don't tell me you have a crush on that fucking asshole. you can't be serious, i mean- have you seen hi-"

"percy shut up for gods' sake!" you yelled and he jumped. it made you feel a bit bad, but he was not making any sense. you stopped wiping the blood and cleaning the wound on his lip, now starting to put some bandages on it.

"i don't have a crush on the guy, i don't even know who he is." you explained, now wiping his eyebrow. he didn't flinched on this one, instead he was focused on you. "but you can't just attack people just because they're looking at me."

"he wasn't looking, y/n/n. he was literally-"

"fucking me with his eyes, i know." you shushed him gently with your words, your eyes holding too much care in them. weren't you questioning his eyes back then?

you were standing in between percy's legs, and you both were face to face, even though he was sitting. his expression was soft once again, and his eyes shined like always. you held his chin gently while carefuly treating the wound. "but he didn't dared to do anything, did he?"

"i would like to see him fucking try." he hissed.

"believe me, he wouldn't." you assured him, now bandaging him once again. he had a confused look on his face, but one side of him telled him you were right. "those guys like that can do nothing but stare."

there was a silence between you two now. percy kept sitting on the bed while you put away the first aid kit. after that you camed back to your previous place in between percy's legs, hands resting on his thigh.

he gently held your wrists in return, thumbs caressing the place gently. the boy was in the other infirmary in school, since they didn't want to put him in the same place as percy. you wondered how was the boy, because percy was literally about to kill him.

"how am i gonna get a boyfriend if you keep attacking the boys around me?" you joked, and for the first time, percy didn't laughed. he still looked down on your now intertwined hands, looking like he was in some kind of a trance.

you didn't want a boyfriend anyways, you wanted percy. the joke was to lighten the mood, but to also see his reaction. you we're having suspicions or delusions lately, about him liking you back. and you wanted to get a real answer for yourself.

luckily for you, percy was about to give you one.

"i don't want you to have a boyfriend, to be honest." he whispered, his forehead resting on your shoulder. your cheek -you didn't know why- immediatly found it's place on his head, smelling the salt water scent he had.

"why? you wanna keep me to yourself?" you chuckled, asking what you wanted to ask for a long time in a jokeful way.

"yeah, actually." he said.

you frozed. you wanted to keep your actions as warm as possible for him to not think you would ever reject him. you did wanted to get some real answers, but not stomach flipping, toe curling and cheek blushing one like this. your heart beated so fast that you thought you we're having a heart attack, and your breath hitched.

"what?" you managed to ask softly, and your voice felt like an angel to his ears.

"i'm sorry i-" he choked in his own words, afraid to face you. he still kept his head on your shoulder, in fact; he nuzzled into your neck a bit. "i don't want to ruin our friendship, but... in some way i do."

you chuckled, and he felt like the weight on his shoulders lifted.

"i kinda want that too," you whispered back, hands now caressing his bicep. his hands find their way onto your waist, holding you firmly close to himself. his heart was about to pop out from his body and met with yours, just chilling inside your body instead of his. weird way to express what he was feeling, but percy was never good with words anyway.

"yeah?" he breathed out, his smile can be heard from his voice. your own smile matched his, so bright that sun would be jealous. "since when?"

"oh man, i don't want to answer this." you joked, and he laughed. that's the react you've been waiting for. "you'd think i'm obsessed with you."

he raised his face from your neck to look at you, his eyes shining as bright as the sky now. you loved how his emotions reflected in his eyes, making him not be able to hide anything. you knew him better than anyone else anyways, he was always an open book to you.

"oh please, i don't have the right to judge you when i'm this whipped." he said, making you laugh. "we're we even friends this whole time?"

you laughed harder. "you know what? i think the fuck not." you answered through giggles. "we we're just two idiots who pretended to be friends."

as you both laughed there, to your whole situation, percy hugged you tight. an air escaped your lips in suprise, but you were quick to hug him back.

"you don't have any idea how relieved i am right now," he mumbled to your neck, leaving a few light kisses there. your hands caressed his raven hair, massaging the scalp. "i love you, so fuckin' much."

"i love you too, seaweed brain." you said back quietly, kissing on top of his head.

he was about to kiss you on the lips when annabeth and grover barged in.

"finally you idiots!" annabeth said, crossing her arms and resting her back on the door frame. grover put his arm on her shoulder, smirking.

"it's about fucking time, eh?"

[katsu28]

"send ☕ along with a prompt from any one of the lists below and a character of your choosing, and i'll write you a one shot to satisfy your craving!"

☕: prompt 23 from list e for rafe!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

it pains me to paint my pogues in a not so great light but i will forever love protective rafe <3 thank you for requesting!

rafe cameron x reader, minimal swearing, 1.9k

“Look who it is! The Princess Kook, slummin’ it on our side of the island for once.” 

Your grip tightened around the pack of beer you were holding at the voice coming from behind you, because you already knew who it was. There was only one person ballsy enough to speak so critically of you, and you were pretty damn sure he was standing right behind you.

Lo and behold there he was, flanked by a more bored looking John B. 

JJ Maybank was and always had been on your case, though you suspected it had more to do with your family name than with you yourself—always spouting off about money and wealth and eating the rich. You understood where he was coming from, of course, but that didn’t mean it stopped being irritating.

It just seemed like he was always riding you about being some little rich girl with daddy’s money, not an actual person, with actual feelings. But after a while, you’d grown used to it. JJ was all bark and no bite. 

“Hi, JJ.” You sighed, shifting your weight to one leg. You nodded at John B, who did the same back to you. “How’s it going?” 

“Didn’t know our booze was good enough for Her Majesty’s taste.” JJ sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. You rolled your eyes at his dig. “Rafe know you’re over here?” 

“He’s not my keeper.” 

“What’re you even doing here, Y/N? They don’t got beer on Figure Eight?” John B sounded a little bit nicer, more tired than bitchy like his blond friend. 

“Cheaper here.” 

“Like you don’t have enough fuckin’ money.” JJ scoffed. John B jabbed a sharp elbow into his side, a sign for him to shut up. 

“Look guys, I’m not looking for any trouble. I just wanna get some beer and go home, that’s it.” 

“How ‘bout you leave the beer here and run back to your little princess castle instead?” 

“You’re a real prick tonight, JJ. Something got your panties all up in a bunch?” You shouldn’t have snarked back, that you knew, but he was really getting on your nerves tonight. You weren’t sure why. His words usually just slid right off you. 

JJ’s expression darkened and he scowled, brows furrowing. “Maybe ‘cause I just got fired from the Club this morning.” 

“What, why?” You asked, surprised. It was a genuine question. JJ was a definite pain in your ass, maybe with an attitude problem but still a good employee. 

“Oh, drop the clueless act. Pretty sure it was one of your stuck up friends who complained.” 

“I’m sorry you got fired, JJ, I am, but I had nothing to do with it. And there’s nothing I can do about it either. I don’t have that kind of pull with anyone at the Club, neither does my family.” 

You figured it would be better if you left now before JJ came up with another retort, or you'd likely be here trading snippy insults with each other all night, and you had better things to do with your time. There was some sympathy in you for him, but your statement was still true. There was nothing you could do for him, even if you wanted to. And besides, Rafe was waiting on you for a movie night. 

Leaving the conversation and the beer you were supposed to get behind, you hurried back to your car. The quicker you got to Rafe’s place, the quicker you could forget about it. 

Only a couple minutes into the drive, headlights flashed in your mirror. No big deal, probably just someone heading the same way as you. You were on the main road to the other side of the island, after all. 

Then the car sped up a bit, coming dangerously close to your back bumper before retreating a sizable distance behind—once, twice. By the third time, you were starting to get a little pissed. 

“What the fuck?” You muttered, squinting to get a better look at it. A big camper van, old from what you make out in the darkness, faded orange—oh fuck. You knew that van, John B’s old clunker of a car. And if you squinted a little harder, you could almost make out the same blond head of hair that was antagonizing you back at the store. 

So JJ did have a little bite in him. You sure as hell weren’t going to stick around to find out. 

Stepping on the gas a little harder, you took the long way back to the Figure 8, weaving through the backroads you’d known like the back of your hand since before you were able to drive. Back then, you’d done it on your bike, peals of laughter echoing through the overgrown fields of the Cut turned clean lines of pristinely cut lawns the closer you got to home, as Rafe chased after you on his own. 

Still, the van followed you on your way. With every glance at it in the rearview mirror, you grew a little more worried.

JJ’s driving was erratic, like he was playing a game of cat and mouse with you. If he really wanted to hurt you, this would be the ideal place to do it. There was nothing but grass and weeds around here. Nobody would find you for hours, even days if he were to run you into a ditch or something. 

That thought alone spurred you to drive even faster, driving and driving until you took one more look in the mirror to see that the van had stopped. You watched the headlights grow smaller in the distance, forcing yourself to keep driving until you got to safety—to Rafe. 

You screeched to a stop in front of Rafe’s townhouse, barely giving a backwards glance to see if they were really gone before hurrying the rest of the way to the front door. Hands trembling, you balled them both into fists, raising one to knock as loudly as you could. You could barely hear the thud of your fist on the wood over your thundering heart. 

The door opened in an instant, Rafe’s smiling face greeting you. It quickly faded when he took in your wide eyes, your hard breathing. He pulled you inside immediately, sliding the locks home behind you before gathering you into his arms. “What happened?”

You explained as quick as you could, but the adrenaline from the whole thing was starting to die down. Your previous thoughts were starting to seem silly at this point. JJ was a hothead, but you didn't think he’d go so far as to take out his anger on you. He was probably just trying to scare you, nothing more, nothing less. 

Rafe, on the other hand, was livid. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asked, voice dangerously low. His eyes searched you for any visible injuries, hands sliding over your body with the utmost care, a stark contrast to the storm creeping into his beautiful blue eyes. “I swear to god if those punks even laid a finger on you—” 

“No, no, they didn’t hurt me, Rafe. I’m okay now, I promise. Just a little shaken up is all.” You assured him, stopping his search by lacing your fingers through his. He still looked unsure. “I’m fine, baby. Honest.” 

Rafe’s brows furrowed long and hard, and you reached up, attempting to smooth out the deep wrinkle between them with your thumb. 

You traced above one of them, trailing down over the skin under it before letting your palm settle against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut for a split second as he leaned more into your touch. The wrinkle disappeared. 

“Okay. But you’re not going home tonight. You’re gonna stay here, with me, and I’m gonna have a talk with my sister in the morning, okay?” He was calmer now, you could tell. The sharp edge to his voice was gone, his shoulders relaxed the more you stroked along his skin. You nodded, satisfied. “Can I make you something? Tea? A snack? I’ve got those cheese puffs you’re so obsessed with, though I don’t really see how good—” 

“Rafe,” You chided, smiling warmly, “You don’t have to dote on me. I’m fine.” 

“I know. My girl’s strong.” He murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to the soft skin of your palm. “Just had me worried for a bit, that’s all.” 

You kissed him, short and sweet, before tugging him towards the living room. Your gaze landed on the snacks he’d laid out on the coffee table first, drifting to the heaps of blankets and pillows on the couch right after.

Everything was already set up perfectly, and with all that had happened in just the past hour, sent a warmth flooding through your body, a sense of safe and love and home that you only ever felt when you were with Rafe. 

Rafe suddenly looked bashful, scratching the back of his neck with an embarrassed grin at the way you were looking at him. “What? I was excited to see you.” 

“You saw me yesterday, Rafe.” You chided lightly, completely failing at a stern look in favor of something much fonder. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you.” 

“Rafe Cameron, are you going soft on me?” You hummed, settling onto the couch. Rafe threw himself down next to you with a nonchalant shrug, resting an idle hand on your knee when you threw your legs across his thighs, but the answer was a resounding yes.

Yes, he was soft for you. Yes, he loved you more than he loved anything and anyone in this world. 

He knew it, you knew it, and that was what prompted him to speak his next words. 

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Uh oh.” You snickered, drawing a roll of his eyes with a lopsided smile. 

“Hilarious. Anyways, um, what would—I mean, what’re your thoughts about maybe…moving in with me?” 

“Here?” Maybe you sounded a bit more skeptical than you meant to, because Rafe quickly backtracked, sitting up straight. 

“Doesn’t have to be here. We could get a new place, if you want.” He replied, shaking his head. “Top’s uncle works in real estate, I could probably get him to show us some places within the next couple of days—”

“No.” 

Rafe’s expression crumpled. “No? No, as in no, you don’t want to live together?” 

You amended your rather blunt statement with a hand placed over his. “No, as in no, I don’t want to get a new place. I wanna live here. With you.” 

“You do?” 

“Don’t look so surprised, Cameron, your place is way nicer than mine.” You teased. Clearly amused, he scoffed, giving your calf a playful pinch. 

“That the only reason?” 

“‘Course not. I’m also looking forward to that fancy shower head in your bathroom.” 

Rafe snorted, pulling you close against him, pressing his forehead against yours. He looked a bit funny like this, nearly bug-eyed because of your close proximity, but you thought he’d never looked cuter. “And me?” 

You peppered kisses to his cheeks, chin, nose, the corners of his mouth in lieu of an answer, loud and over dramatic and definitely obnoxious, but it made him laugh. Then you kissed him right where he wanted, firm and loving against his lips to say yes, always you, and he smiled. 

Moving in with Rafe meant getting to hear your favorite laugh, see your favorite smile, every single day waking up next to him. You hoped you’d get to experience it for the rest of your life, starting now. 

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[drdemonprince]

So, I (a trans guy) am kind of coming to terms with the fact that I might be more gay than bisexual after all. Where I live, the queer community is split pretty definitively between the "women, non binary and trans people" (or FLINTA*, if you're familiar with that horrible term) and the gay male community. While I have lots of problems with the former, it is kind of the community I am in, mostly because it has felt safe during my transition. It still feels safe, but not really comfortable. I want to feel like I am part of the gay male community, especially if I mostly want to date queer men in the future.

I am like, so scared of existing in any gay male spaces. When I tried being in them pre T, I felt like an imposter. When I travelled to the US a few years ago, the only place my then partner (also on T) and me were misgendered consistently was in gay bars (in a lot of famous "gay friendly" cities). All of this has left me with a sense of humiliation and not-belonging that gets reactivated every time I even think of stepping into one again, even if I am fairly certain I would not get this reaction now.

How do I get past the shame that is attached to my previous experiences and learn to actually enjoy myself there?

So, I believe that you have the order of operations wrong here. You don't get past shame and then go out to these gay spaces -- you go out to those gay spaces and then overcome (some) of your shame. And that shame may live with you forever in some form. You can still have a worthwhile life with it.

Go to the gay bars. There are many different kinds of them, all with wildly different energies and clientelle, and it is normal and boring and blase for trans guys to be at each and every single one of them.

One way that many newbies unwittingly screw up is by going to the most circuity, dance-y kinds of gay bars that tend to be filled with young, thin, rich, superficial people -- and then they mistake the meanness of that crowd for the meanness of all gays, or interpret the meanness as a sign they are not accepted by "the gay male community."

There is no singular gay male community. There are in fact a wide variety of subcultures with their own beauty standards, stylistic choices, interests, and norms. And there's a lot of cliquishness and mean girl behavior among people who have decided they are high rank in any particular small subculture, don't get me wrong. But you don't have to believe in any of it. They're just coping with their own history of marginalization and rejection by trying to become a new ruling class within their own tiny pond. You can laugh it off as the work of kind of sad, small thinking and just enjoy yourself and talk to people who are not assholes.

So, go to the leather bar. Go to a pup night. Go to an old-timers bar filled with gays over 60 (they will be nice to you and buy you drinks, I promise). Go to a gay bar that's casual and nerdy, with arcade machines and pub trivia. Go to a drag bar on a weekday night and meet some of the newer queens who are still trying to find their chops. And yes, go to the DJ sets and dance clubs all you like, but don't let what a few snatched bitchy 22-year-olds (or insecure former twink 42 year old real estate agents) get you feeling insecure. They're doing that shit because they are insecure.

Bring a friend. Talk to someone who seems nervous and alone on the side of the dance floor, too. Wear an outfit that will get some compliments. Nurse a drink at the bar and trawl grindr to see if anyone seems worth talking to. Join a dungeon or a gay running group. Attend a gay men's support group at your local lgbt center. Meet a ton of people and just get yourself out there, and quickly you will realize that your mind has wildly over dramatized how much you stand out or how much anybody cares.

Fat gays, disabled gays, older gays, Autistic gays, nerdy gays, poor gays, Black and brown gays, immigrant gays, they all feel like they do not belong and are not welcome too. Find them and be kind to them and hold onto them. Notice who is nice and warm with you, but also don't read into it too much if some people are just neutral. Eventually you will figure out what you like doing, which spaces you enjoy inhabiting, and who you want to be there with -- and then you'll have some fun.

[rdng1230]

Sal Deluca Meta

Okie dokie here we go. Just remember y'all asked for this.

Here are some repeated talking points I’ve seen about Sal and why I think most of them are ignoring certain contexts or misattributing things to Sal that were said/done by somebody else. Also just general thoughts about our little mook.

Hen Begins

That Sal was a raging racist/sexist/homophobic. 

Let’s deal with the first one first. Is he a member of the white boys club? Absolutely. He makes no effort to include Hen and doesn’t really acknowledge her at all until he’s complimenting her for her skills at the end of the episode. This is OBVIOUSLY not good. He should’ve been kinder and more welcoming to her. But the only one who specifically makes negative/mean comments about Hen is Gerrard and Tommy. Literally the only thing you could even interpret that way is him saying “for real?” to Gerrard’s diversity hire comment and the fact that he drops the pick axe or whatever the hell that metal thing was on the floor along with everybody else besides Chim. Not great, but also with what we know about how other rookies are treated even by Hen herself, I don’t think any of this behavior falls into “irredeemable racist monster” Buck chased Ravi with a chainsaw for christ sake. 

Ok now the sexism. He actually stares daggers at Gerrard for the entirety of his stupid “waste of taxpayer money/women won’t be able to rescue my guys” spiel. Like the camera specifically focuses on Sal looking pissed as hell. Another thing I’ve heard falsely said is that after Gerrard storms off, Sal/Tommy follow him. That’s not true. They do get up and leave but they actually leave in the ass opposite direction. Sal’s face when he signals to Tommy to get up reads to me as “let’s get the hell away from the fallout of that grossness.” not “I agree with what that dinosaur just said.” But I also realize people can interpret that moment differently. 

I think the sexist reading largely comes from the Kristen Stewart conversation. And come on, This is the lesbian website, if we start dinging people for finding Kristen Stewart attractive, we’re all going down. Plus again, Buck was STEALING EMERGENCY EQUIPMENT TO GO GET LAID AND HE’S EVERYBODY’S FAV SO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. We see Sal kind of ignore Hen but also agree with her at the same time during this exchange. Again a case of Sal not really acknowledging Hen but not attacking her either. Go and look at his face when Tommy says that NY bitchiness comment. Sal does not look at all happy with him. Most of the time when anyone is being actively mean Sal looks pissed off, not approving.

Ok now the homophobia thing. And it's at this point I’m going to bring up the idea that some characters seem bad/good not based on their actions but on whose perspective we’re viewing those actions from. I see this being a problem with several characters. Most notably Taylor Kelly. But that's a whole other post. 

Sal’s team Jacob comment is homophobic and gross but it's also 1) 2009 and 2) directed at someone who he clearly knows incredibly well and who we KNOW gives as good as he gets. I easily could’ve seen this interaction reversed with Tommy saying that to Sal because that's who they are and how their friendship works. But because we’re seeing this from Hen’s perspective it's another thing that makes her feel isolated and othered. And again THAT IS NOT GOOD SAL SHOULD NOT BE DOING THAT. But I don’t think Sal at all said that with the intention of putting Hen down, it very clearly reads to me as Sal teasing/riling Tommy up as they always have. Now obviously the harm still hits even if the intent wasn’t present. But I think if we can forgive Tommy for comments that were MEANT to be mean, then we can forgive Sal for comments that were just him fucking around with his best friend of several years. 

That Sal was the ringleader or Gerrard’s right hand man

Does Sal have a sort of in charge vibe? Yeah absolutely. But very notably the only thing he actually initiates is the olive branch. It’s him that offers a hand to Hen and says nice job and you’re good at what you do. I also will die on the hill that the hemorrhoid complaint was his. Chim would definitely say that but not in an official report, Tommy would definitely bad mouth Gerrard, but not like that. Now who is known for kind of cruder language and a short fuse and absolutely would put that down in an official report? Sal motherfucking Deluca that’s who. 

One notable thing that I find interesting is that Hen herself distinguishes Gerrard’s behavior from the rest of the team's. She definitely gives them hell during her big speech but when Chim does dishes with her she specifically says men like him not men like them. Just something I realized on my most recent rewatch. 

To summarize, the only real thing Sal did that was unique to him (because they all failed to stick up for Hen, yes even Chim. Chim was nice to her but he never actually stood up for her to Gerrard’s face. He tried to redirect the conversation a couple times but that was it.) was the Kristen stewart comments and the Team Jacob comment. I would argue Tommy’s comments in Chimney begins and his NY bitchiness comment in Hen Begins are way more targeted, hateful, and fucking rude. (said with all love because we know Tommy had a bunch of growth and change and became the man we all know and adore.) IMO nothing in Hen begins that Sal says/does is as bad as what Tommy did/said.

Bobby Begins Again

Ok another reason why I don’t think Sal is this irredeemable sexist/racist/homophobic pig is WHY ON EARTH WOULD HEN STAND UP FOR HIM IF HE WAS???!?!?!? Hen is THE FIRST PERSON TO CALL OUT THAT CRAP even from the first episode she says something like “why is that always the first instinct with you whiteboy macho types?” So why why why why would she stand up for Sal if he hadn’t shown any improvement in that area in the now 7 years minimum that she’s worked with him. Answer: she fucking wouldn’t. Ok moving on.

The Bobby stuff

So remember how I said perspective changes everything? This is the major reason why. We as the audience love Bobby and know intimately the struggles he’s faced, so we’re naturally going to be angered by anyone who is antagonistic towards him. The thing is Sal doesn’t know ANY of that. This is what Sal knows about Bobby.

He’s from somewhere in middle America and has never worked in a MAJOR American city like LA/NYC. That’s it. He COMPLETELY ACCURATELY I MIGHT ADD predicts that anybody with that background will struggle to adapt to the specifics of LA. It’s Sal that has to pick up Bobby’s slack as he adjusts, calling out the shots at the tree trimmer call, taking the initiative with Maurice even though Bobby does ultimately do the saving. (Which Sal actually seems impressed by btw.) Bobby still can’t even read the city map when they pull up to the restaurant fire call. 

Now imagine you’re Sal. First you had Gerrard as captain, who (I think it's fair to say) you DID NOT LIKE. One of the things he did was put down firefighters who disobeyed orders by rescuing people. We saw this with the “fetching a tide” call and with saving the boy in the submerged car. Hen disobeyed orders but showed real skill as a firefighter. And all she got for her troubles was being berated by her Captain. 

Ok then after Gerrard you have an interim captain that seems like a decent dude, but he leaves and for a while you have a revolving door of retiring brass that are checked out, behind the times, or just generally disengaged. You become used to filling in as captain and get actually pretty damn good at managing the team. (I say this because Sal leads the team several times in BBA and nobody looks at all like this is a new development) Then they finally pick a nobody who has never worked in a proper city before and to you he’s just the newest asshole that will probably screw up and get someone killed. Sal has no idea about the challenges or traumas Bobby has had to face, just like we have no idea what might have happened in the 5+ years between HB and BBA. Sal has probably MANY REASONS not to trust Bobby that we don’t know about. 

So how would you feel after you’ve successfully rescued a teenage boy’s life, if your new captain who you’ve known for like a day and still doesn’t even know how to get the engine to calls on time, calls YOU stupid for SUCCESSFULLY SAVING A CHILD’S LIFE. I think you’d be likely to blow up a little too. 

Was Sal a hothead? Absolutely. Was he being smart by mouthing off to Bobby? Absolutely not. But I think his lines to Bobby during that scene are so telling. “You’re just the latest jag off in a long line of jag offs to come to this house and think you know how to run it.” In other words, he’s not really seeing Bobby during this exchange (he couldn’t possibly, Bobby is still being very closed off and won’t tell anyone what his story is for years) he’s seeing the long line of assholes that started with Gerrard that Bobby is unknowingly falling into the pattern of. Just like how Bobby didn’t really see Sal and one relatively tiny restaurant, he saw his wife and family and a massive apartment building with no way out. That to me is the tragedy of Bobby and Sal. I genuinely think they could’ve learned a lot from each other if they had left their baggage at the door. 

In other words, would we judge Sal if he had gone after Gerrard in the way he went after Bobby? I doubt it. And that to me is what Sal is actually doing, going after Gerrard and all the other nameless asshole captains he’s been dealing with for YEARS. Sal was hotheaded and impulsive, but at the end of the day I think he was just dealing with misplaced anger that he put on Bobby, something both Buck and Eddie have done at some point or another even when they DID have all the information. If you can forgive the lawsuit arc, and Eddie’s comments in season 5 about Bobby’s kill count than dear god I think Sal has more than earned a pass. 

Overarching things I find interesting about Sal that I don’t see anyone talking about 

He cares a lot about the people they save on rescues, he’s the one on the majority of calls saying some variant of “its gonna be ok/we’re gonna get you out/don’t worry. Whatever the firefighter equivalent of bedside manner is, this guy has it. 

His personal code of who he gives a shit about seems to boil down entirely to who has skills/is talented and who isn’t. The minute Hen shows real promise by saving that little boy, he is down there hand shaking and complimenting her. Ditto Freddie Costas. “Smart kid, probably saved his own life with that move.” You see this in his conversation with Bobby too “that wasn’t luck man that was skill.” You have to earn Sal’s respect and the way you do is by demonstrating competence. Sal genuinely does look impressed with Bobby for apprehending Maurice and showing ingenuity, the problem is it's immediately undercut when Bobby belittles him for saving the kid. 

Anywho, that’s my Sal defense thesis. There’s probably other stuff I forgot but that's the bulk of it. I reserve the right to randomly reblog this with any other shit that comes to mind. Also as a disclaimer I still LOVE reading toxic Sal or asshole Sal content, absolutely eat it up with a spoon gimme gimme gimme. But I think it would be unfair to say that’s the ONLY read of him. He clearly does give a shit and is capable of growth and change, he just also happens to have a short fuse and very little willingness to go about things in a tactful way. 

TLDR: free my man, he did do some of that shit but so did your blorbos, it's just your blorbos had the narrative on their side when they did it.

[ladykailitha]

Batshit Soulmates Part 2

Yay! More soulmates!!!

In this Eddie has nothing but time to think while Steve tries to outrun his problems and runs into new ones.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1|

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie waited until he heard the sound the maroon BMW fade into the distance before he broke down and sobbed. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that his sheep were involved with whatever the hell happened to Chrissy or the fact that Vecna was real. He couldn’t have imagined finding your soulmate in a worse way then an actual fucking battefield.

Was Eddie surprised his soulmate was a boy? No. He had figured out pretty quick that it was all boys for him. Felt a little bad for Steve through, must have come as shock. Because let’s be fair, Eddie was pretty shocked, too. Of all the dudes in all the world, the universe picked the most diametrically opposed human on the fucking planet.

He didn’t hate Steve or anything. Steve tended to leave the Hellfire Club and its members alone and would stop Tommy and his ilk from harassing them, too. Which made more sense once Eddie had met Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. Those three never shut up about him really. To Dustin he was the old brother he always wanted. To Lucas he was a mentor. To Mike? Hilariously, when Mike was around Dustin and Lucas, he would roll his eyes and sigh dramatically whenever Steve was brought up.

When they weren’t around? Mike talked about the dude in hushed, reverent tones. Mike had an even bigger case of hero worship then the other two put together. But he was also a bitchy teen, so he hid it better then the others.

Eddie had scoffed at their depictions the first time he heard them, but the more they repeated it, the less it began to sound like they were telling tall tales, and more like they actually had a huge amount of respect for Steve. Which really didn’t gel well with the Munson Doctrine.

Jock=bad, rich=bad, popular with girls=bad, added all up together and you get a douche of the highest order. But even though Eddie had threatened to cut his throat Steve had still wanted to help him. Eddie wasn’t sure if their places were reversed that he wouldn’t have thrown Steve off and told him where to stick it. Soulmate or not.

But Steve had stayed. Either the man was a sap or maybe Dustin and them were right about him.

Eddie sighed. Well, he supposed only time would tell which one it was. As much as his inner cynic was screaming that Steve would give up. That he would learn that loving him was too hard and walk away. Leave Eddie to deal with murder charges and monsters. Another part of him was telling him that Steve wouldn’t do that. That Steve never back down from a fight no matter how much a losing battle it was. That loving Eddie was easier than fighting bullies and apparently monsters.

He knew realistically that Steve was a better soulmate then a lot of people got, but seriously whatever immortal asshole up there making the decisions had to have a sick sense of humor. The only things the two of them had in common was their height and their eye color and even that was slightly off. Oh all right, maybe their love three little freshmen dorks.

Protectors. Steve and him were both protectors. They had that too. Eddie could see it his eyes that he was more worried about Eddie would do the rest of them if Eddie actually went through with it. Not that he was going to. He had been trying to. He wanted to so bad. Steve stood in the place of all those people that had hurt Eddie his whole life. His dad. Bullies. Teachers.

Eddie was given an chance to become who they all thought he was. A murderer. He couldn’t tell if it was the look in Steve’s eyes that stayed his hand, or the burning on his arm, or if he just wasn’t built to kill. That he was more like his gentle Uncle Wayne then the violent Al Munson. Maybe it was combination of all three.

The sad (?) thing was, that Eddie could see himself next to Steve’s side. In fact it was too damn easy to imagine. He could feel the rightness of it, even if every other part of him scream at the injustice of it. The King and the Freak. But maybe that wasn’t what the universe saw. Maybe it saw two lonely boys that fit better than it looked on the surface.

After all, wasn’t that what Eddie himself had been preaching for years. That too many people only saw what they wanted to see and not dare to get to know people before making a judgment.

He preferred the easy charm of captain Steve Harrington over the hard nosed oneupmanship of Billy Hargrove and fierce competitiveness of Jason Carver any day. It was only after Steve’s fall from grace that he had even began targeting the basketball team in the first place. Both Billy and Jason would get mad and try and start something with Eddie.

Steve though? Steve would smirk and turn away. Like Eddie was funny and not a freak. And maybe Eddie targeted Steve just to see him smile and smirk. But the only people who knew that was him and Wayne. And he intended to keep it that way.

In fact, Eddie thought straightening up, the more he thought about how Steve actually acted in school the more he realized that Steve was actually a pretty chill dude.

Oh.

Maybe he needed to have a heart to heart with the universe about the Munson doctrine. Because if that was wrong, what else had Eddie gotten wrong?

His stomach growled. He bit his lip nervously and looked up at the house. He wasn’t sure if he could risk going up to the house again, not at night anyway. He was going to have to wait until tomorrow to see if he could at least make something to eat.

Maybe he should have asked them to bring something to do while he hid out. He was starting to get bored out his mind.

There was nothing for it, all Eddie could do right now is sleep and hope his soulmate was the natural caretaker all his sheep said he was.

He carefully rearranged the tarp so that it would be easy to pull back over him once he was in the boat and stepped gingerly into it. He got settled and pulled the tarp back over himself, letting the lapping water against the boat lull him to sleep.

*

Steve would like to say that the nap did him good and that he felt refreshed and ready to take on...what did Dustin and Eddie call him? Vickie? No, that was Robin’s crush. Vacuum? He snorted. Definitely not that. Evil wizard dude. He would like to say he felt refreshed to tackle the wizard dude, but the food he ate made him queasy and it made for a fitful sleep.

He opened his wallet and looked to see how much cash he had on hand. It should be enough to get Eddie some food and drink. Eddie had been fairing well enough, but he could use something a bit more substantial. He took out five bucks for gas and shoved it in his top drawer.

Steve looked at the time and groaned. It was too late to go to sleep, but too early to be awake. He shouldn’t have tried napping that late in the evening but this whole thing with the Upside Down being back, no Hopper, no El and even if they did have her, no powers. They had to rely on him. Well, Nancy mostly.

He would gladly relinquish control over to her, if he was being honest.

Steve pulled up his sleeve and rubbed the soulmark thoughtfully. It still glowed a dark sickening red, almost blood like it’s shade. It seemed to thrum beneath his skin like a melody he couldn’t quite make out. It comforted him. He just hoped it comforted Eddie, too.

He looked out at the dark sky that was hours away from dawn. He got changed into a pair of shirts and a swim team t-shirt. It was going to cold out there, but it wouldn’t matter for long. He changed his socks and pulled on a pair of running shoes.

He grabbed his keys and locked the door behind him. He stretched out on his front lawn in the putrid light of the street lamp. Once he was satisfied that he was warmed up enough not to pull a muscle, he started down the road. At first it was gentle lop, not quite a jog, but soon he was running as hard as he could toward the horizon, chasing a dream that he knew he would never be able to keep.

Steve ran until his lungs burned, his muscles ached, and his cheeks were flushed and sweaty from the exertion. He looked up to find that he had somehow ran all the way to the trail park. It had long since been cleared of police and looked more worn and depressing in their wake. Maybe it was the tragedy that clung to every rock of gravel, every concrete walkway, every panel and tin roof.

“Hey, loser,” Max said from her front step. “Can’t sleep either?”

Steve turned and panted, his hands on his knees as he fought for breath. “Yeah, yeah. What’s got you up before the asscrack of dawn? My excuse is that I’m a barely reformed jock.”

Max opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. She just shook her head. Steve turned to look at the roped off trailer that had been Eddie’s home, before he trotted over to her.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” he asked in hushed tone.

Max nodded. She looked down at her worn out shoes, scuffing the side of her right one on the gravel in front of her. “I hate that you and me only found our soulmates because the Upside Down happened.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “I didn’t even think it would be a boy. Never even crossed my mind. Maybe if it had, I would have realized sooner that it was Eddie.”

The silence stretched on between them as around them the sky began to lighten and the trailer park came to life.

She picked at her nails. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Lucas?” Steve asked, twisting his neck to try and get a better look at her.

She nodded again, refusing to look him in the eye. “I think bad things just happen around me. Maybe I’m cursed.”

Steve snorted. “This town is cursed. But it’s not good what happened to Chrissy. You know who would be able to figure this all out?”

“Nancy?” Max asked.

Steve ruffled her hair. “Right in one. But first I have a soulmate that needs food and I’ll be damned if I let him starve while on the lam for something he didn’t do.”

Max pushed at him. “Don’t say shit like ‘on the lam’, what are you fifty?”

Steve just shook his head. He got to his feet. “I’m going to go home and shower. Then I’ll pick up yesterday’s rogue gallery and we’ll go shopping. I’ve got enough to cover at least a couple of days worth of food for the guy.”

She nodded. “I am sorry, Steve, that he got dragged into this mess, but isn’t it better that he knows? Because then you don’t have to lie to him?”

He sighed. “Is better that he knows? Sure. But it’s not good.”

Max scoffed. “Nothing in this town ever is.”

Ain’t that the truth, Steve thought bitterly. He just waved his hand at her and started back down the road, back to Loch Nora.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13 @samsoble @xandriumbat @ellietheasexylibrarian

[apomaro-mellow]

3 though idk how much it will help but I love drama😅

oh my god you instigator LOL I also tacked on @goodolefashionedloverboi's request too

First part

He should've known that telling Eddie to shut the hell up would yield the opposite result. The phone calls were so constant, that Steve stopped picking up. When he saw him coming down the sidewalk, he walked the other way. Eddie had even started to try and send messages via the kids and wasn't that pathetic?

What was more pathetic was how hard it was for Steve to do all of this. He wanted more than anything to hear Eddie out, to find out that maybe his feelings were real all along. But there was no such chance.

There was a panicked moment when Eddie came to his work and he saw him talking to Robin outside. But Robin, steadfast and loyal and just as bitchy as him, told him to step off.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around", Steve said he pushed a mail cart around.

Robin dug her hand in and handed it off to the white collars of Hawkins in the office building they worked at now. "I felt like a bouncer at a club."

Steve thought he was doing a good job on the break up mend. He hadn't spoken to Eddie in days, he hadn't rebounded on some poor soul, and he only cried late at night when he was all alone with his thoughts.

The moment he thought he was up though, was of course, when the universe brought him back down. He knew Dustin's house was a danger zone, what with the odds of Eddie being there. But Dustin had invoked a Code Red on the walkie and Steve came barreling down the road, nail bat at the ready.

Once again, Dustin pointed him in the direction of his cellar. Steve vividly remembered what Dustin had been keeping down here before. He went down the stairs, heard a familiar voice cry out "No! Wait!" before the door shut above him.

Steve held his bat defensively. He was down here with someone. He was about to swing when a lightbulb turned on and he was face to face with Eddie. Honestly, Eddie might've been safer from his bat if he was a stray demodog.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I don't know", Eddie held his hands up in surrender. "But if I had to guess...I think Henderson wants us to talk."

"Did you put him up to this?!"

"Eddie didn't put me up to anything!", Dustin shouted from above. "You two need to get your shit together. I'll be back in an hour. Don't have make up sex in my cellar."

Steve tried opening it up but they were sealed shut until Dustin, or perhaps Mrs. Henderson let them out.

"The nerve of that kid", Eddie huffed.

"Right? Where the hell does he get it from?"

"Not from me. Us Munsons are humble. He must've gotten it from your side of the family."

Steve smiled as a traitorous breath of laughter came from him and he clamped it down immediately. It wasn't fair. Eddie couldn't do this. He glared at him, ready to blame the whole situation on him even though he was probably tricked as well.

"Don't look at me like that", Eddie said, his voice soft.

"I'd rather not look at you at all." Steve turned his back on him, hoping he could ignore him until they were let out. He came face to face with the mended part of the wall that Dart had dug out years ago. Such and odd series of events that led him here, that led him to Eddie. Just for it to end like this.

"Steve-"

“I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t. Take that back right now.”

"I won't."

"Then look me in the eye and tell me."

Steve turned and he wished he hadn't. All he saw in Eddie's eyes was heartbreak. He knew because it mirrored the look in his own eyes. But it couldn't be real. It just couldn't.

"You should be in the movies, you know that? Give Hollywood a run for its money."

"Steve just listen to me! I'm sorry for playing with your feelings. I really am! But I wasn't lying when I said I want to be with you. Steve I l-"

"Don't you fucking dare." Steve's grip on his bat tightened. "Don't say that if you don't mean it or I swear..."

"Steve..." Eddie took a breath and stepped closer to him, incredibly aware of the weapon in his hand. "I love you."

Steve dropped the bat and Eddie pulled him into his arms. Steve wanted to beg for so many things. For Eddie to always love him, to treat him gently, to make him believe that he wanted him forever. It all came out in the form of tears.

"If this is another joke-"

"The only joke here if that I had you and fucked it up like an idiot."

"You really want me?", Steve sniffled.

"Baby, baby, baby", Eddie cradled his face and wiped some of his tears away. “I’m not even gonna lie, I’m just so fucking obsessed with you.” He wondered how many of his messages got through to Steve in the end. "Did you listen to any of my voicemails?"

Steve allowed a small smile through. "I think if I did, I would've caved in too fast. I'm obsessed with you too. I love you, Eddie. Too much probably."

"I'll be the judge of what's too much. And you, Steven Malcolm Harrington, are not too much."

Eddie kissed him and Steve felt whole again. Then Eddie kissed him again and Steve felt more than whole. In between the kisses, Steve started to laugh.

"I can't believe we're making out where Dustin kept his pet demodog."

Eddie jumped up into his arms. "His pet WHAT!?!"

Send me a dialogue prompt

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | AO3

The next time that Eddie sees Steve Harrington, the entire world has gone to shit. He has a broken bottle pressed against his neck and God, he's fucking terrified, half convinced he's going crazy and half convinced that some invisible thing is going to break him into pieces if he so much as closes his eyes and half convinced that Harrington is here to beat the shit out of him for Chrissy's murder and fuck, he doesn't want to die, he just wants all this to stop -

But they believe him.

Impossibly, they believe him, and they all act like this is old hat. This group that has no reason to be friends - the D&D nerd, the skater, the band geek, the jock, Jesus, add in Eddie as the criminal and they're a knock off Breakfast Club - they look at each other with world weary eyes and resignation, and then they all gear up and say let's go.

Easy as that. Just, the world is shit, the monsters in the dark are real, and the four of them sigh and unite together without question.

And then - yeah, they're on his side, and the food situation is a lot better than it was a day ago, and he's pretty sure he's not crazy, but aside from sporadic check ins, he's still very, very alone out here in the boathouse.

He can't sleep, he can't do anything to help himself - just like he couldn't do anything to help Chrissy - he's just a fucking wreck -

And then Jason Carver and his merry gang of freak hunters find him, and he's about ninety percent sure he's going to die out here on Lover's Lake.

But he doesn't.

Patrick McKinney does, floating above Lover's Lake just like Chrissy had in his bedroom, and this time when he hears the crunch of bones snapping it seems to echo even louder, all across the lake.

He shoots terrified eyes towards Carver, and for one stupid second he - he's almost relieved. It wasn't just him this time, bearing witness to something so horrifying. Someone else was here with him, someone else saw it too, and for an even stupider second he thinks maybe Carver will get it now, maybe he'll pull a Harrington and they can unite together against the monster doing this.

But Carver turns on him, clearly needing to blame it on someone he can see, and Eddie - well. Eddie's always been good at being the freak.

Good at running, too, and that's what he does again.

He spends a truly horrific night in the woods, terrified and alone and convinced every sound is Jason Carver or that thing coming to get him, more sure than ever that this is it, this is how he dies.

But he doesn't.

He reunites with the party, and tries not to let it show how fucking relieved he is - makes his dramatic entrance, all boisterous bluster, hoping none of them can see the fear in his eyes behind his wide smile.

The trudge back through the woods is as miserable as Eddie expected, but it's still worlds better than last night. At least now he's not soaking wet and cold and losing stretches of time to sheer terror.

At least now he's not alone, and he can distract himself by people watching.

Max and Lucas are walking together, clearly having some kind of serious discussion. Not quite an argument, he'd guess, though he can't hear what they're saying - a little lovers' quarrel, maybe? Probably, he concludes, when they separate, Lucas hanging back looking dejected and Max stomping off ahead.

He sees Harrington look between them, brow crinkled just a little bit in thought.

It isn't cute, Eddie reminds himself, and turns to watch Max instead. She's staring right at Harrington with a very clear fuck off vibe, and Eddie, drama magnet that he is, has to slow back a step or two so he can see them both.

Harrington turns his entire upper body towards her, walking without looking where he's going, which feels like a fucking recipe for disaster, but it just makes Max roll her eyes at him. Her eyebrows shoot up, and she pointedly flicks her gaze back in Lucas's direction. Harrington tilts his head, the bitchy are you for real expression that Eddie's moderately familiar with slotting easily into place.

Max sighs, her expression fading into something more sincere and shoulders dropping. She shakes her head at him, and this time her gaze lands on Lucas for a long, drawn out moment.

Harrington's already moving by the time she looks back at him, falling back to go join Lucas's side where he's kicking at pinecones as he walks.

For a moment, Eddie considers picking up his pace to go join Max, but she puts her headphones back on and hunches in on herself, clearly needing a few minutes alone. Normally, Eddie wouldn't involve himself in what may or may not be some freshman lovespat, but fuck, he desperately needs a distraction, so he keeps sneaking glances over at Harrington and Lucas. Whatever discussion they're having, it's clearly intense, but it still catches him off guard when Harrington suddenly plants himself in front of Lucas and forces him to stop.

Eddie stumbles to a halt, watching as Harrington cups the back of Lucas's neck and drags him in, leaning down to press their foreheads together. Lucas's shoulders hitch, like he's barely holding himself together, and Harrington gives him a little shake, sets them swaying back and forth for a moment.

Fuck, he shouldn't be watching this. This looks like it goes way beyond whatever on again off again thing Lucas and Max have going.

Of course, the second he has that thought, either something in the wind shifts or Harrington's voice picks up, because he can hear him saying, "This is not on you, you hear me? None of this is on you. And as the king of fuck ups, I'm something of an authority on the matter."

Eddie hurriedly lurches himself forward again, feeling ashamed.

A few minutes later, he sees Lucas walk on ahead, watches him connect with Dustin and Max to form a loose little trio. He expects Harrington to go up even farther, join up with Wheeler and Buckley, but he hangs back, all but falling into step with Eddie.

Huh.

"He okay?" Eddie asks, physically unable to stay quiet anymore.

Harrington sighs next to him, but it sounds sad, not aggravated. "They're just kids," he says, softly. "I keep hoping, you know, this time it'll be done, and they can just worry about the stupid stuff I did when I was their age, but-"

He gestures in a manner that Eddie takes to mean but all of this bullshit.

"I just wish the only thing we had left to talk about was why did you break up and how to get the girl and who didn't support who at what."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. The implication that a bunch of nerdy freshmen come to Steve Harrington for that kind of stuff - that he wants to talk to them about that, that he's the one they rely on - it'd been hard enough to hear coming from Dustin, but seeing it in action?

He's already had enough of his world view rocked in the last few days, he really doesn't need this too.

"He knows," Eddie starts, and then stops, unsure if this is so incredibly self centered of him - then pushes forward, because he keeps hearing none of this is on you and he feels like he needs to say it anyway. "He knows I don't blame him for the hunt the freak shit, right? That none of it's his fault?"

There's a flicker of surprise in Harrington's eyes, and then he's looking at Eddie all soft and warm like he did something right, something good, and oh, fuck. It shouldn't be anything, it shouldn't mean anything, but - God, what the fuck has Eddie ever done right in his life? The last few days have been nothing but reminders that he's a screw up, that he runs when people are in danger and leaves them to die, that half the town he grew up in believes he's capable of brutal, sadistic murder.

The last few days, he's been looked at with a never ending cycle of suspicion, anger, disappointment, pity, concern - and here Steve Harrington is, looking at him like he did something worth being proud of. It makes him want to go belly up, spread out and lay in it like a cat lounging in the sun.

Shit shit shit shit.

He does not want his soulmate to be Steve Harrington, he doesn't.

"He should," Steve says. "But he could probably use hearing it from you anyway."

"Right, yeah, of course. I'm just gonna-" Eddie waves up ahead. "Go. Do that."

He launches himself in what he hopes is actually the direction where Lucas is before he can make an even bigger fool of himself - though it's kind of too late for that, considering he trips over a fallen branch and only just manages to catch himself before he ends up face first in the leaves.

Eddie lurches and flings himself around, playing it up and making it look intentional as he slings an arm around Lucas's shoulders and shoots a wild grin at the little trio of freshmen.

"You ladies mind if I borrow Sinclair here for a minute? No? Excellent."

Max rolls her eyes at him and he can hear Dustin going, "ladies?!" as he drags Lucas off, but he ignores both of them. Lucas is so tense under his arm that Eddie drops it away from him once they've gotten a few paces away from the others, and then the kid watches him, eyes sharp and wary and wide.

It's not fear - not of Eddie, at least - but it's something close enough to it that it makes his stomach turn. He hadn't planned on what he was going to say before he just threw himself over here, and for a moment he panics a little.

"What you did was pretty awesome," he finds himself saying.

Lucas looks at him like he's not sure he heard him right. "What?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, gaining momentum now that he knows how he wants to handle this. "Sticking with those guys as long as you did to get info on their plans, using your survival knowledge to lead them off in the wrong direction? Very ranger of you, Sinclair. Guess I owe you one, risking yourself like that."

It's clearly not what Lucas was expecting, and there's a moment where his expression is pretty blank - Eddie's not sure if it's because he's trying to process what Eddie said or because he isn't going to accept what Eddie's doing, offering out this olive branch.

Eddie does what he always does when he's nervous.

He plays it up, raises his voice a little as he crows about having a ranger on your side as you trek through the woods, spinning it into a tale of bravery and throwing in enough exaggeration that Lucas finally laughs, shoving Eddie away and telling him to shut up.

If this was the lunch room, or a session of Hellfire, none of the freshmen would've dared do anything like that. And Eddie'd liked that, liked being respected and revered and leaving everyone with a sense of trepidation, all falling in line at his word - until he knew them well enough to know if they could be trusted, if he could let them in to see the real him underneath all his bravado.

It's just that there's not many that he's ever known well enough for that, and maybe he hasn't let himself really think about that before, but he is now.

It's just he likes this better, he thinks, because having Dustin and Lucas push each other and push him, all three of them trying to simultaneously be quiet enough not to call attention to themselves but loud enough to be heard over the others does a whole hell of a lot more to take his mind off the way Chrissy and Patrick's bones sounded as they snapped right in front of him than just about anything else.

It's just that when he looks over to where Steve and Buckley and Max are walking together, he sees Steve watching them, a soft little smile on his face, and it doesn't fade even when their eyes catch.

He doesn't want his soulmate to be Steve Harrington, he reminds himself.

—

And then they're at the lake, and Steve Harrington is shirtless and diving into the water, and then shirtless and ripping apart a demon bat with his bare hands and teeth, and then shirtless with blood and ichor dripping out of his mouth and down into his chest hair, and then shirtless and putting himself in front of him and Buckley and Wheeler with a look in his eyes like he'd rip apart anything that even tried to come for them, and -

Fuck.

He kind of wants his soulmate to be Steve Harrington.

Taglist (please let me know if I missed you, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void

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Part 7

[min-kit]

Rewatching Hen Begins right now and, something interesting I've noticed (and ofc this could be for different reasons when the ep aired but based on what we know about Tommy currently, I'm going to go with my personal thought). When Hen comes into the 118 and Gerrard introduces her, Sal, Tommy, & Chim walk up. Tommy then asks "Who's this?" & he has a large smile on his face and looks excited to meet Hen but then Gerrard answers "Our new diversity hire." The moment Gerrard says that, Tommy's face falls and he looks uncomfortable and he looks at Gerrard to see his expression and make sure the vibe he's getting from Gerrard is correct (IE, sarcastic, not happy about this). Meanwhile, Sal next to Tommy doesn't even blink. He says "For real?" basically reiterating Gerrard's thoughts that Hen being their new hire is ridiculous, unbelievable.

Chimney ofc, being the GOAT, points out to Gerrard, "You know, Captain, there's another way to say that." And Gerrard is just like "Yeah. We're screwed." Sal continues to stay staring at Hen with that smug-ish asshole look on his face. Tommy, meanwhile, keeps looking at Gerrard to take his cues & when Gerrard walks away, Tommy literally follows his lead by following him.

And from that moment, Tommy joins the Boys Club with Gerrard & Sal. I think after he became friendly with Chimney, Tommy was actually excited for new people, maybe hoping things would start changing around the 118, but it's Hen who is a black woman (and a lesbian, not that they know that) & clearly that's even harder for Gerrard to get over than an Asian man cuz. Well. At least Chimney is a man.

But it's just interesting to me, and really confirms the fact that Tommy was absolutely one of the ones to make complaints. For him, he couldn't be like Chim and do this openly. He has his own secrets to hide after all. But making complaints anonymously? he could do that.

the "New York bitchiness" comment to me is certainly interesting. That was definitely really rude of him, but I don't think he meant to be insulting towards Hen necessarily... he just really hates New York and doesn't understand how saying someone has that vibe could be a compliment. adfhshfsdhhd not uncommon for an LA native to hate New York and likewise. As a person who has been to both (and lived in New York)... very different vibes.

[itneverendshere]

trying to behave, but i'm feelin' some type of way - r.c drabble.

request: rafe x bitchy!pogue reader pleaseeeee!!!! he just hates that he wants her soo fucking bad and she finds it hilarioussss warnings: it gets steamy but no smut!; slutshaming; mean!rafe.

you’re out of place here, which is exactly why you’re here, tannyhill.

fuck them. fuck him.

every high-strung kook princess with their perfectly manicured nails gives you a quick once-over, nostrils flaring when they catch the sight of your scuffed-up boots. not that you care. it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.

and why should you? you’re only here for the free booze, it’s not your fault this place is such a bore. always all pearls, pastels, and the scent of white wine and privilege. who the fuck drank white whine at a party? but the real reason you’re here, the whole damn reason, is staring straight at you from across the room.

rafe cameron. ugh and yum.

he’s leaning against the bar, muscles taut under that fitted navy polo like he was born to flex, with a scowl as always. it’s always that look—the one that’s aimed solely at you, every time he sees you. it’s practically a tradition by now. you show up somewhere, he glares.

there’s a tightness in his shoulders, something tells you he’s going to snap eventually, maybe it’s because you’ve been pushing buttons lately. maybe it’s because he’s got his daddy’s expectations hanging over his head like a guillotine.

or maybe it’s just because he wants you, and that little inconvenient truth pisses him off to no end.

you flash him a slow, lazy grin, shifting your hips as you grab a beer from the cooler. when you catch the way his eyes drag over you, lingering on your exposed skin, your stomach hums with satisfaction.

let him look. let him stew in it.

“country club,” you call sweetly, raising your bottle in a mock toast, the light catching on the condensation like it’s winking at him. “how’s it going?”

his jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“and yet, here i am,” you sing-song back, taking a slow, pointed sip. you’re feeling reckless tonight. he’s dangerous, sure. but he’s also predictable. you know exactly how to make it worse.  “aww, what’s wrong?”

you know exactly this’ll go. he’ll insult you, you’ll insult him back, and then—

his eyes narrow dangerously, that vein in his temple ticking. “what the fuck are you wearing?”

you blink innocently, glancing down at yourself. “clothes, obviously. why? does it bother you?”

“yeah,” he snaps, eyes raking over you again, lingering on the swell of your chest, the sliver of skin peeking out above your waistband. “aren’t you tired of slutting yourself around?”

your lips curl into a smirk, the slow burn of satisfaction warming your chest. this is exactly what you were hoping for.

“slutting myself around?” you echo, voice teasing. “didn’t know you were keeping tabs.” you cock your head, letting your gaze linger on his flushed cheeks, the way his nostrils flare, and that slight clench of his fists by his side.

he’s seething—looks ready to burst into flames right here in front of the bar. good.

he’s always been like this with you. short fuse, especially when it comes to what you’re wearing, how you look, where you go. but you’re onto him. you know what it’s really about.

“you must really be obsessed with me,” you continue, “it’s kinda weird, don’t you think?” you take another sip, slow and deliberate, licking your lips as you meet his glare. he steps closer, crowding into your space, his chest brushing against your shoulder. you should back up, or at least pretend to care, but you just tilt your head, looking up at him with a smug little grin. “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “feeling a little tense?

“fuck off,” he grits out, stepping back like he’s burned. but it’s too late. you’ve got him now.

you cock your head, giving him a slow, taunting smile. “why? afraid you’ll get hard in front of your little friends?”

his eyes darken, jaw clenched so hard you wonder if it hurts. “i swear to god—”

“what?” you interrupt, teeth flashing. “you gonna hit me? break another one of your daddy’s toys?” you wave your hand around the pristine room, the glittering chandelier, the polished bar. “go on, then. show everyone what a psycho you are.”

“you think i won’t?” 

“yeah, i think you won’t,” you say softly, staring right into those burning blue eyes of his. “because you’re all bark and no bite.”

“you wanna see bite?” he murmurs, voice dripping venom. “i’ll show you fucking bite.”

then his hand snaps out, wrapping around your upper arm, and before you can react, he’s yanking you out of the room, down a hallway that’s all shadowed corners. you stumble, cursing under your breath, but he doesn’t stop until you’re both crashing through a side door into some empty back corridor.

“jesus, cameron, take a fucking xanax—” you start, wrenching your arm free.

for a second, you think you’ve gone too far. his whole body goes still, and something flares in his gaze—something unhinged and a little bit terrifying. but instead of snapping, instead of throwing a punch, he leans in, so close you can feel the heat of him against your skin.

you’re shoved against the wall, hard, his body caging yours in, his hands braced on either side of your head. you freeze, breath hitching. he’s close—too close—and it’s too hot and too much and—

“shut up,” he growls.

you should tell him to fuck off. you should knee him in the balls. you should do anything but feel the way you do right now—flushed, breathless, and…too horny for your own good. 

“do you always have to be so fucking dramatic?” you huff, placing your hand in chest in a futile attempt to push him away. you know he can break you in half if he wants to. 

he doesn’t move of course, just stares at you, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. he’s got that crazed look in his eyes that should make you run for the hills, and yet you stay put.

and then, suddenly, his mouth is on yours, demanding and angry.

it’s not a kiss—it’s a punishment. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding against yours with a harshness that steals your breath. you gasp, your hands coming up to shove him away again, but somehow they get tangled in his hair instead, gripping the soft strands as he presses closer, closer— it’s a disaster. you’re a disaster. because you don’t pull away. 

you kiss him back like an idiot, just as desperate, your nails digging into his scalp as you pour all your frustration into the kiss. why does he have to be this hot? in your books, kooks aren't allowed to be hotter than a 5. unfortunately, rafe is a solid eleven.

he tastes like mint and rage, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does. god, it does. he breaks away, panting, glaring down at you like you’re dirt under his shoes. “you drive me fucking insane, y’ know that?”

“good,” you gasp, licking your lips. “you deserve it.”

he laughs, a low, harsh sound. “you’re such a fucking bitch.”

“and you’re a spoiled, narcissistic asshole,” you snap back, shoving at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch, just glares harder, and it sends a thrill through your entire body. you’d never seen him like this, so unguarded and it was weirdly intoxicating. 

“i should ruin you,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. his hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw, trailing down your throat. “make you beg.”

you keep your expression defiant. “you think you can?”

rafe smirks, slow and dangerous, and it makes something burst in your belly. “i know i can.”

his hand slides lower, fingertips brushing the hem of your top, and your breath catches. you should stop this again. you should slap him, kick him, do anything but let him keep touching you like that, but you don’t. you just stare up at him, heart racing.

“show me then.”

and then his hands are on you, yanking you forward, spinning you around. you gasp, palms slapping against the wall as he presses up behind you, his body solid against yours.

“you’re a fucking brat,” he growls, his mouth right against your ear. one of his hands comes up, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch.

“and you’re obsessed with me,” you shoot back breathlessly, tilting your head to meet his gaze over your shoulder.

rafe’s grip tightens in your hair, hard enough to sting, and his lips brush your earlobe, “obsessed?” he repeats, like he can’t believe you had the fucking audacity to say it. “don’t flatter yourself, baby.”

but you feel the way his body presses against yours. your panties might be drenched but this man is just as hard. he’s close to you—so fucking close—you feel every ridge of him, and despite every insult he’s ever thrown your way, despite how much he claims to hate you, he’s here. the way he’s breathing tells you exactly what you need to know. 

you twist against him, pushing back just enough to test his restraint. “then why are you so worked up, huh?”

“i think you’re confusing us.”

“sure,” you laugh, even as his hands move down your sides, his fingernails digging into your hips. “that’s why you dragged me out here, right? because you’re just so indifferent?”

his chest brushes against your back with every ragged breath. he’s losing it. you’re making him lose it. and fuck, that feels good.

“i could ruin you,” he whispers again, like he’s trying to convince himself. his hand skim up your ribs, thumb grazing the underside of your tit, and your senses kicks into overdrive. “one word from me, and you’re done.”

“you’re all talk cameron,” you challenge, arching your back slightly, giving him more room to touch you.

you shouldn’t want this—you shouldn’t need this—but you can’t stop. 

his mouth is on your neck, hot and open, teeth scraping against your skin in a way that sends a shudder from your head to your toes.

“fuck you,” he growls against your throat, the words almost lost in the heat of his mouth. “i’m not playin’ your games.”

you bite back a moan, fingers curling against the cold wall. “you’re already playing.”

“you’re so fucking—” he cuts himself off, breathing harshly through his nose. “fuck, i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” you turn your head just enough to catch his eye. his gaze is wild, and you smirk, taunting him with your lips just inches from his. “you wish you did.”

you know you’re pushing your luck, but then again, when haven’t you?

“you have no fucking clue what i wish,” he growls, each word dripping with so much frustration it makes you laugh.

it comes out like a soft, mocking sound. “ooh, i think i do. you wish i’d shut up. wish i’d disappear. but you really wish you didn’t get hard every time ’m around.”

his jaw ticks, that telltale sign that you’re getting to him. god, he hates you. you can see it in his clenched teeth, his furrowed brows. he hates that he wants a pogue and you find it hilarious.

“don’t flatter yourself pogue,” he snaps, but his voice is strained. his hands tighten on your hips, fingers biting into your skin just shy of painful.

you push back against him just a little harder again, feeling the rigid line of his cock pressed against your ass.

“yeah?” your voice turns breathy. “then why do i feel that?” you grind your hips subtly, just to punctuate the point, and the low sound that rumbles out of him is almost worth the risk of provoking him further.

“because you’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, voice harsh and low in your ear. “you show up, looking like you want it—”

“and so what if i do?”

it’s a dare. he’s holding you, like he can’t decide if he wants to strangle you or fuck you senseless, perhaps both. you know you’ve crossed some invisible line.

“you’re gonna regret this,” he murmurs.

“maybe,” you shoot back, unflinching. “but that’s the thing, rafe.” you twist, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, “i think you’re more scared of what you might regret.”

instead of shoving you away, instead of storming off, he does the one thing you didn’t expect. he laughs.

it’s that crazy sound he makes before he does something reckless every time, the kind that makes people run away. it’s such a humorless sound, it should scare the living shit out of you as he leans in, lips brushing against your neck. “don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

before you can answer, one hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his eyes. they’re wild, almost feral, just like you expected.

“tell me to stop,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, the touch so gentle it’s almost jarring. “go on, say it.”

you swallow hard, pulse hammering in your throat. you should say it. but you don’t want to.

“make me.” you know he hears you—feels you—because the corner of his mouth lifts in a slow, taunting smirk.

“yeah?” he drawls, thumb slipping from your lip to trace along your jawline, his touch featherlight and maddening. “you sure?”

“prove me wrong. or are you scared?”

“you think ’m fucking scared of you? think i can’t handle a little mouthy brat like you?”

he’s goading you, pushing you like he always does, and every word you had prepared dies on your lips 

“i’d loooove to see you try.”

“oh, you will.”

[calciumdeficientt]

how do you think bif interacts in casual conversation, especially with those he's sincerely close with?

as an infrequent fanfiction Reader i'm struggling to write him

ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY I CAN!!!!111!!!!1!!!! Ive really started to love Bif, i guess its because ive managed to fight the theatre kid demon in me back with a broom and get over the fact that his VA is Andrew Rannells

CASUAL BIF HCS

I’m not gonna mince words here, i think once you get to know Bif Taylor you come to realise he’s a total fucking loser. Like, once he’s comfortable enough to drop the champ persona, you really do find out that the real Bif is just a teenage boy. Not that he’s boring or anything, you can definitely hold a pretty good conversation with him. He’s just… kinda pathetic.

Okay maybe pathetic isn’t the right word, but i think he puts a lot of emphasis on his sporting achievements, especially when he’s talking to someone who’s not in the prep clique. It’s a status symbol that he flaunts to separate the wheat from the chaff. But obviously, that doesn’t work on other preppies. They know Bif well, he can’t just talk about how he’s the champ all the time. They know you won again Bif, they were all there, remember? Think of something else to talk about

I think he frequently finds himself short of stuff to say, his interests dont always align with what the other preps enjoy doing, so he probably just choses to listen actively in casual conversation with the other preps and piggyback off of whatever they choose to talk about. Often this ends up being sort of vague statements on the topic to try and pry some information out of the other party. Oh, Bryce went to Bali in winter break, its hot there this time of year isn’t it? Oh great, he’s talking about mosquitoes, prefect now gently slide in the new pharmaceutical company your father just co-opted. Excellent, well done Bif.

One easy topic of conversation is derby, not so much rumours or bitchiness or anything like that, just recounting time spent with derby. He is around him enough that it takes up a good amount of real estate in Bif’s brain. He’s always careful who he speaks about Derby’s personal private affairs with because he’s aware of the the ever looming threat of mutiny from preps who feel badly done to in terms of their leader. Bryce is the only one who Bif can really slag derby off to, then again its never actually anything nasty. It’s more just venting that he had to carry all of derby’s shopping bags, pay for lunch and go and fetch the balls Derby had putted over to the other side of Golf and Yacht because poor Derby’s feet were a little sore from his new loafers.

Now, drunk Bif is where its at, he eases up a lot more and talks freely about his less prep friendly interests. Usually to Justin, he knows Justin is keen to learn all about sports. Bif is usually eager to get drunk after standing for so long on the door playing bouncer. He’s usually tied and more than happy to sit, drink and be merry. And he gets very VERY merry. Red faced, where does the hair end and the skin start, shirt inside out shoes mismatched drunk. He’s loud and bold and laughs himself half to death over every little thing. Drunk Bif is kinder than sober Bif, but equally as receptive. One major change is volume, he yells like he’s in a busy club even if there’s only about four people in the room.

[ham1lton]

omg you’re so right the idea that she doesn’t publicly work for her dad’s company is so much better ofc you had the better idea <3 plus this makes it possible for her to be a reckless party girl still which is my dream (only possible with a financial safety net lmao)

but exactly she’s super smart and often has really good ideas but her dad’s team thinks it’s too risky to bring her on publicly bc just last week she got kicked out of a club in amsterdam with lori harvey so they just let her speak up around her dad. she’s the only one who tells him his ideas are shit LMAO

i love that logan idea bc i’m sure they both feel like outsiders a lot of the time :( he watches her sneak out the balcony in her room and later when he’s asked if he’s seen her he’s like I KNOW NOTHING!

she’s at the met gala obvi with her rich famous friends like tyla, jennie, the princess of greece, etc and sees lewis there 🤭🤭🤭

there’s just sooo many possibilities with this YN! i imagine she’s sarcastic and bitchy too but only as a shield. she’s actually super sweet and loyal to her (very few) genuine friends. that doesn’t stop her from calling childhood friends max verstappen and mick schumacher bert and ernie when she sees them 😭

wait cause childhood friends nepo baby!yn and mick who is also a super nepo baby. this eats omg. especially as we know mick followed in his father’s footsteps but yn refuses to follow in her dad’s footsteps. even though we KNOW she can. i definitely think this is a topic of conversation between the two of them. mick is like ‘you know you can make something of yourself. you have all the tools, the money, the skills. you’re really doing yourself a disservice.’ and yn is like ‘…. i’d rather die thanks x’

oh yn definitely is a baddie. she’s a girl’s girl. she stole 200k from her dad just to donate it to various gofundme’s that she found on the internet. she actively speaks out for causes she believes in. she gives out free f1 tickets to fans all the time. she’s genuinely sweet and cares about people. also she has impeccable hair and makeup taste. imo she’s similar to bella hadid, not looks wise but sort of public perception?

oh she LOVES lewis. she definitely had a crush on him growing up. she gets along with logan, as you said they’re both outsiders and she roots for him. i feel like lando wants to be her friend but idk if that’s reciprocated. she also LOVES fernando. they would be party buddies.

she’s not a bad person. she’s just very unserious and wants to have fun. she’s very connected due to her partying and has a history of very famous exes. do people try and take advantage of her? maybe. does she let them? perhaps she did and that’s why her real friends ride for her. i have a headcanon that her most genuine friend was a maid’s daughter that she always hung out with as a child because she was unafraid to call yn out on her shit. they’re still friends to this day. yn is very loyal and rewards loyalty.