#my job is being silly so I can afford to get a little silly with it

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

* “go-to” doesn’t mean “only”! there’s a bunch of situational signoffs I haven’t put here, this is more about what you use by default

[mcnuggyy]

how to be normal about my cousins 4 year old dragging my plushies across the dirty floor while I broom and mop the kitchen

[corroded-hellfire]

Throwing a fluffy idea out there: Eddie volunteering (possibly for community service after getting busted for something silly) at a pet shelter. The kittens trying to play with his hair, him rough housing with the dogs to help get them some playtime and exercise.

Eddie loves animals and no one can change my mind. All I want is to see him with these fuzzy little babies 🥺

Words: 3.1k

Hopper was a good guy. He knew deep down Eddie was a good kid and that if he was the worst criminal that Hawkins had, things were going all right. But that didn’t mean that the chief of police wouldn’t lay down the law once in a while with the small-time drug dealer. 

Eddie had gotten the choice between a few nights in the tiny town jail or volunteering at a pre-approved Hawkins business. Not wanting to spend time behind bars, Eddie grumbled as he took a look at the list of volunteer options. Spending any time at a medical facility was an automatic no and Eddie wasn’t sure how picking up trash would keep him away from drugs when all he’d want is to smoke a joint after the arduous task. 

The Hawkins Animal Shelter immediately seemed appealing, though. Growing up, Eddie had always wanted a dog, but his dad couldn’t afford to own one and Wayne is allergic. Thinking of spending time with the dogs and cats that didn’t have families of their own brought a smile to his face. Maybe part of it was that he didn’t have a stable home life before coming to live with his uncle, so he could relate to the sweet, innocent animals. 

His first day on the job, Eddie jumps out of his van and tosses his leather jacket on the passenger’s seat so it won’t get covered in fur or drool. The gravel crunches beneath his boots as he heads towards the front door. Barking can be heard before he even grips the dull copper doorknob. 

There’s an older woman seated behind a desk as soon as he walks in, who looks up at him over the rim over her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Munson?” Her voice is deep and raspy, the pack of cigarettes sitting in front of her the obvious culprit.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says.

The woman nods her head to a yellow door covered in scratches—mostly on the bottom half. “In there. The girl will show you what to do.”

The girl. Eddie doesn’t even know who she is, but he’s offended on her behalf by being referred to in that way. Giving the woman a quick nod, Eddie heads over and through the door, eager to be out of her presence. 

The sound of dogs barking and yipping is even louder in the back hallway, and now it’s joined by the high-pitched meowing of cats. It brings a smile to Eddie’s face as he shoves his hands into his jean pockets. He turns a corner and sees a girl bending over into one of the dog’s kennels. As excited as he is to see the animals he’s going to be spending time with, he admires the view of the nice ass in front of him first. A particularly loud woof from a Pomeranian has the girl standing up straight and Eddie is quick to avert his eyes, hoping he can keep up the facade of being a gentleman for more than five minutes.

“Oh! Hi, Eddie.”

At the sound of his name, Eddie looks back towards you. A smile breaks out on his face as he recognizes you from school. The two of you never really spoke before, but he couldn’t deny that he’d always thought you were very pretty. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here,” he says.

“Nope, just volunteer,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the thighs of your jeans. 

“And I bet you weren’t even threatened with jail time,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. You giggle and it makes Eddie’s stomach flip in a way that’s unfamiliar to him.

“Let me guess, Brenda sent you back here with a huff?” A dog clamors for your attention in a kennel to your right and you reach in to scratch behind the chocolate lab’s ear. 

“I assume so,” Eddie says with a shrug. “She didn’t bother introducing herself before ushering me along, saying you would tell me what to do.”

“Hmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes as if inspecting him. “Can anyone really tell Eddie Munson what to do?”

This makes him laugh and it scares a skittish poodle to his left.

“Aw, I’m sorry, pal.” Eddie crouches down and holds his knuckles up to the kennel door to let the white, fluffy dog give him a sniff. 

“That’s Stella,” you tell him. “Her brother Bruno is on the pillow back there asleep.”

Eddie’s eyes roam over to the dark gray poodle snoozing away in the back corner. He looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world and Eddie envies that. 

“Do you know all the animals’ names here?” Eddie asks as he stands back up.

“Sometimes it’s hard to keep track because they come and go, but yeah, I think so,” you say. “Hmm, okay, I was just about to go change the kitty litter. Want to come along and distract the kittens? You wouldn’t believe how much they get in the way.”

“Sure,” Eddie agrees as he follows you down the hallway. As soon as you open the door to where the cats are kept, a cacophony of meowing floods his ears. There are different volumes and different pitches blending together to create a song of cat chaos. Eddie realizes he must be staring when he hears a soft giggle coming from your direction. Ducking his head, he clears his throat and turns towards you. “What should I do, boss?”

“Well,” you say as you walk over to a few of the cubbies the cats are residing in, “I’ll let a few out at a time, you distract them with the toys or maybe even some treats and I’ll clean their boxes. Then we try to corral them back in and start over again. Ready?”

There’s an array of cat toys on the far side of the small room. Fuzzy mice, balls that jingle, some with feathers, and a few cat wands. Eddie grabs a bag of cat treats off the shelf–which means every little eyeball in that room is on him–and settles himself on the floor next to the toys.

“Ready.”

The first batch you let out consists of five cats–ones that you know for a fact get along, you inform him. There’s a calico named Turtle, an orange and white one named Eric, an all-white called Kissy with the bluest eyes Eddie’s ever seen, and two small kittens. They’re both tabby cats with stripes, but one is grey with black stripes and the other is a soft orange with darker stripes; named Pepper and Chili respectively. Unsurprisingly, the kittens are the first ones intrigued by their new visitor. Tiny paws pad over the linoleum floor until they’re both standing right in front of Eddie. Now that they’re this close though, they get a bit shy. Their eyes are so big for their little heads, Eddie thinks, and he can’t help but chuckle at how cute they are. Chili decides to be the brave one and takes on the scary task of crawling up Eddie’s leg. 

“Jesus,” Eddie winces as sharp little claws dig through the material of his jeans and prick at his skin. You pop your head out from one of the kennels and give him a sympathetic look.

“Yeah. I don’t know why but kittens’ claws are sharper than adult cats,” you tell him.

“God, you’re lucky you’re so cute,” Eddie tells Chili as the little furball stops to sit on Eddie’s thigh. As if seeing that his brother is safe, Pepper jumps up and follows the trail the ginger cat had led. “Ah, both. Great.” His words are joking, but the way he grits his teeth as Pepper’s claws do their little pricks of damage is very real. 

Turtle makes her way over and begins to chew on the top corner of the treat bag. Kissy immediately wants Eddie to pet her, and Eric is content to sit about a foot away and watch the others interact with the human on the floor. 

You peek over your shoulder as you empty the dirty litter into the garbage can beside you, and smile when you see Pepper standing on Eddie’s lap with her two front paws pressed right over his heart. Her tiny head bobs as she inspects Eddie’s face, little pink nose twitching as it works. 

Chili has to outdo his sister and jumps right up to Eddie’s shoulder, as if he were a pirate and Chili is his trusty parrot. The ginger cat noses at Eddie’s curls before deciding to take a taste. He opens his mouth and Eddie is glad that hair doesn’t have nerve endings when Chili sinks those little needles that he calls teeth into the strand. 

By the time you get finished cleaning out the litter and refilling the food and water, Pepper is up on Eddie’s other shoulder, chewing on hair on that side of his head. Kissy is curled up in Eddie’s lap, purring contentedly as she snoozes. Turtle is still trying to figure out how to get into the treat bag, and Eric decides he can trust Eddie enough to rest his head on Eddie’s ankle. 

“Well, don’t you all look comfy,” you say as you stroll over to them. 

“Cats have no boundaries,” Eddie says with a smile.

“Not a one,” you agree.

Eventually, you get them all back in their cubby condos and are able to move on to clean the other cat’s areas.

When you get to the last one, you open the cage door and reach in. Eddie watches as you pull out an older gray and brown cat and hug it to your chest.

“How are you, Perry?” you ask before planting a kiss right between the cat’s ears. You turn towards Eddie so he can get a better view of the large feline. “This is Perry. He’s the oldest cat here and an absolute sweetheart. I would’ve brought him home with me a long time ago if my sister wasn’t allergic.”

“Hi, Perry,” Eddie says, walking closer to the two of you. He holds his fingers up and Perry gives them a quick sniff. The cat ducks his head and Eddie takes the hint, scratching wherever his hand is guided along the soft fur.

“Wow,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Perry let anyone pet him that quickly. He can be a grumpy old man when he doesn’t know someone.”

“I live with a grumpy old man,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Guess I just know how to deal with them.”

“Do you want to hold him while I clean?” you offer. 

“Sure.”

You hand the cat over and Perry quickly adjusts to being in Eddie’s arms. It’s another thing that surprises you. Perry isn’t usually a fan of being held—unless it’s by you. But the tabby seems quite content in Eddie’s arms. 

Since the last cage is the easiest to clean, you finish up with the cat room in no time.

“What now?” Eddie asks. 

A look down at your watch lets you know.

“Time for the first group of dogs to go outside.” You nod for Eddie to follow you in the direction of the dogs’ section. “We do it in groups since there’s so many of them. This way they can all get some attention and there’s less likely to be any issues or fighting.”

It’s not surprising to you that Eddie is a complete natural with the dogs when you get outside. He’s on the grass with them, rough housing, he plays fetch, and even runs laps around the yard with a few who just need to burn off their extra energy. The dogs all take to him so naturally—even the shy ones. It’s impossible not to smile as you watch the canines play with this golden retriever of a man. 

By the time the two of you bring the last round of dogs back inside, Eddie’s cheeks are rosy from exertion, his breathing is somewhat labored, and he has patches of dirt on him almost from head to toe. 

“Come here,” you say with a chuckle once you’ve snapped the last lock shut. 

There’s a battered door at the other end of the hall, and Eddie follows you over towards it. You jiggle the rusty doorknob and step into the small bathroom. There are a few stacks of towels lined up on the counter and you pull a teal one off the top of a pile. 

The scent of lemons fills the small space as you pump some hand soap onto the towel and wring it out with some water. 

You turn back to Eddie and motion for him to drop his chin. He does, and you push a few strands of curls back to wipe at the dirt on the left cheek and jawline.

“How’d you get this?” you ask with a chuckle.

“No idea,” he replies with a small huff of laughter. “I think it was when Yogi and I both dove for that tennis ball.”

The memory of Eddie and the chocolate lab both going for the toy brings a smile to your face as you clean off what you can of the dirt. 

“He’s a good boy,” you say. 

“What about me?” Eddie asks with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You laugh and toss the dirty towel in the laundry bin. 

“Yes, Eddie,” you tell him. “You were a good boy, too.”

Even though he’s the one who brought it up, he feels his face get warm.

“So, I’m actually headed out early today,” you say as you wipe your hands off on the sides of your jeans. “But I’m sure Brenda will let you know what you can do next.” It’s hard to keep the playful smirk off your face at the mention of the cantankerous receptionist.

Eddie drops his jaw and stares at you with mock annoyance.

“Playing hooky and leaving me with someone who makes Ms. O’Donnell look like a ray of sunshine? How dare you?”

You chuckle and shake your head.

“I mean, if you want to go get my cavity filled for me, I wouldn’t complain,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie winces, fighting off the urge to run his tongue over his teeth.

“Oof, okay. That’s a good excuse, I guess,” Eddie says. 

“I’m so glad you approve,” you tease. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”

“Sure am.”

Honestly, Eddie has no idea if he’s scheduled to come in tomorrow or not, but he hardly doubts anyone would complain if he showed up for extra volunteering. 

“I’ll see you then.”

You give him one last smile before heading to grab your bag from the back room.

The next day, all the cats and kittens meow at you the moment you step foot into their room. 

“Hello, babies,” you greet them. “How’s my man Perry doin—” Your face falls when you see Perry’s usual crate empty of the senior cat. 

Despite the cries of protest, you back out of the cat room and hastily make your way to Brenda’s desk.

“Where’s Perry?” you ask without preamble.

“Got adopted,” Brenda responds, not looking up from the old issue of People Magazine she’s flipping through. 

“Oh.” You swallow and nod your head. “Good for him.” I didn’t get to say goodbye. 

A few tears fall as you head back to the cats and begin your daily cleaning routine. You are genuinely happy that Perry has found a home. Cats of his age don’t belong in a shelter, they belong with a family. Well, all cats do, but it’s especially harder for seniors. It’s the fact that you didn’t get to give him one more scratch between his ears or kiss the back of his head one last time that is upsetting you. He was so much a part of your daily life that it already feels empty in the shelter without him.

“Hey.”

Eddie’s voice startles you, causing you to jump and hit the back of your head on the roof of Chili and Pepper’s cubby. 

“Ow.” You wince and step back, bringing your hand up to hold the sore spot.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Eddie says, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to scare you—hey, are you okay?” Eddie frowns in concern when he sees the tear tracks running down your cheeks. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” you say before wiping off your face with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m fine. Just found out that Perry got adopted and I’m bummed I didn’t get to say goodbye to him.”

“Oh.” The smile forming on Eddie’s pretty face doesn’t hold the tone of sympathy that you were expecting. He clears his throat and brings his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Well, um, actually, I’m the one who adopted him.”

Either your ears or brain are having a hard time grasping what Eddie just said, so it takes a few moments before it finally clicks.

“You? You adopted Perry?”

“Yeah.” There’s a prideful grin on Eddie’s face and it makes your heart rate pick up. “After you left yesterday, I went to say goodbye to him, and he kept pawing at me through the bars of the crate. I let him out and he wanted me to hold him. I kinda fell in love with him right then and there.”

Tears flood your eyes once more, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

“Oh, Eddie.” You chuckle and wipe at your misty eyes. “That makes me so happy. Perry deserves a good family, and I couldn’t have picked a better one. Thank you.”

“You can come by whenever you want to see him,” Eddie says, a nervous warble in his voice. He clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sure, uh, he’d love to see you more.”

A shy smile graces your features as you reply, “I’d like that, too.”

“So, no more tears,” Eddie says, stepping forward and using his thumb to gently erase any remains of your waterworks. 

“No more tears,” you agree, taking a deep breath. 

Before you can let the thought linger and overthink it, you lean forward and wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging his body close to yours. He tentatively wraps his arms around your body before holding you just as tightly as you’re holding him. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and take a step backward.

“So, what do you say?” you ask. “Should we get to work?”

Eddie drops into a bow and makes a grand sweeping gesture towards the cat cubbies. 

“Let’s do it.”

[mead-iocre]

Marshmallow Keychains | Alexia Putellas x Reader

synopsis: want that cute (overly expensive) jellycat? Lucky for you you've got a very generous girlfriend.

warnings: none . But it is my first time writing for Alexia so consider that your warning lol

wc: 1k words

“Oh my god–  baby look at this one!” You hold up a small pink bashful bunny, showing it to you the girl beside you. You and Alexia were in London as your footballer girlfriend has a few days off of training. 

“Si. That’s nice, mi amor” She said in the most monotonous tone ever, but you didn’t mind her less than enthusiastic response, you were far too enamoured with the soft stuffed bunny in your arms. 

You put the bunny down and move on to the next adorable thing that catches your eye. “And they’ve got marshmallow keychains! These are so cute!” You've been roaming the store for a few minutes now, caressing and cuddling all the soft stuffies, much to the entertainment of your girlfriend. However, these marshmallows are different. The two marshmallows, one white and one pink, were holding hands and smiling sweetly at you. “I need them, Ale” 

Alexia just stares, seemingly unmoved by the cuteness of the little marshmallows with little faces. She raises a perfect eyebrow at you, unconvinced. “Do you, amour?”

“Okay maybe I don’t need it– but I do want it…” You look down at the cute keychains in your hands. Turning the price tag around, you visibly wince. If you were to buy two, that would be nearly £50 British pounds for two small keychains. You move to put the marshmallows back on the shelf, hoping they’ll still be in stock when you can willingly afford to splurge on them, but your girlfriend grabs them from you. 

“I’ll buy it for you” Alexia says sweetly with a kiss on your cheek. The bright smile you gift her has Alexia feeling like she’s on top of the world. Over the years that you've been dating, you've gotten used to Alexia literally throwing her card at you whenever she could. She knows that you can afford to buy things on your own, you've got a job that you loved and it pays well, but gift-giving has always been her love language. She liked taking care of you and you gladly indulged her. While you did not care much for designer clothes and luxury bags, you loved the little things– like the silly little marshmallows keychain that Alexia currently has clutched in her hand. 

You look around the rest of the store where there are shelves and shelves of stuffed animals. Rows of Jellycats lined the shelves, each one seemingly more adorable than the last.You gasp suddenly, grabbing onto your girlfriend’s tan arm nearly startling her. “LOOK OVER THERE–“

Leaving her behind, you literally sprint over to the shelf not the other side of the shop and pick up the object that caught your eye “A sandcastle with a little face– oh muy amable” You coo at the yellow stuffed toy in your hand. You snuggle the sandcastle in your arms, rubbing your cheek against the soft material. 

“muy suave, amor” Alexia corrects gently once she has made her way over to you. Unable to resist how cute you look, she lays a sweet kiss on your cheek. You’ve been learning Spanish, attending language classes and regularly being flown out to Barcelona by your very generous girlfriend. She insists that regularly exposing you to the culture and the environment will allow you to pick up the language quicker. It’s also part of the Spaniard’s plan to get you to move in with her as soon as possible– but she would never admit that to you willingly. 

The shopkeeper restocking a shelf nearby noticed your excitement. "Ah, you’ve found our special edition," she said with a warm smile. "We only received a few of those. It’s part of a summer series they released.”

You gasp and turn to Alexia with that look on your face. The look that can get you whatever you want– one that your girlfriend was very familiar with. Before you can say anything, Alexia is already rolling her eyes and reaching into her back pocket for her wallet. 

Smiling the biggest smile in the world, you reach a hand towards her gold amex card that she dangles in the air before she pulls back just before you can grab it. You pout at her. 

“Do not pout, mi amour.” Tugging playfully on your ponytail, she lays a quick smooch on the side of your neck knowing exactly how ticklish you are. You try to swat her away, but not before she somehow manages to steal one more kiss from you. “I just wanted to be sure– that’s all you’re buying, si?” 

With that, you turn to the kind shopkeeper from earlier with the biggest smile on your face. “Do you have any more limited editions Jellycats? My girlfriend is feeling very generous today” 

You both leave the shop with one big bag filled with seven new jellycats to start your collection, but with barely a dent on Alexia’s card. On your crossbody bag dangles the marshmallows keychain, and another pair is nestled inside the shopping bag that your girlfriend insists on carrying for you. 

A week later Alexia walks into the locker room, her boots in one hand, and her training bag thrown over her shoulder. She walks to her locker, putting her bag down on the bench. The locker room is loud with chatter, the girls catching each other up on what they got up to during the break.

Mapi is walking over to her locker right beside Alexia when something new catches her eye “¿Qué es eso?”

Alexia stops what she was doing and looks to where her teammate is pointing. “…Jellycat.”

At first Alexia had protested, or at least she tried to. You loved the marshmallow jellycat keychain so much, and made sure to hang it on every bag that you wore out– even when you would borrow one of your girlfriend’s very expensive, fancy bags. You could be using one of Alexia’s Louis Vuitton bags and the marshmallow keychain would be hanging on the side.

Alexia, on the other hand, was less than enthusiastic to use her keychain. During checkout, she had thrown in a keychain for herself last minute, thinking she could get away with you just knowing she has one just like yours. However, you insisted that she had to use it. You explained that the marshmallows would be sad if they were left behind just collecting dust on her bedside table. In response, she rolled her eyes and grumbled something about you being “a pain in the ass”— at least according to the little bits of Spanish that you could understand. 

The following morning, your girlfriend left you in bed– you with your messy hair, flushed cheeks, swollen red lips, and her with her hair neatly in a ponytail, and her training gear on. You watched with a smile on your face as Alexia left the house with a very familiar keychain dangling against the side of her Barcelona training bag. 

need me a rich athlete wife who can spoil me with jellycats too

also im really loving these shorter blurbs because it allows me to just write whenever im inspired without worrying about a low word count.

the euros final is tonight, if you care lol. may the least shittiest team win x

-- kisses, butter.

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[clairdelunelove]

badges of honor

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (sticker drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, protective!ghost

synopsis: ghost doesn't understand the appeal of receiving stickers, a tangible reward, after the completion of successful missions. never thought it was necessary for his efforts. however, his mindset changes when he finds out you're the one handing them out–

a.n. just a silly lil blurb that floated around in my mind for some time! decided I'd write it and I'm thinking about writing something similar for könig too! hope you're all well! and if you wish to show more support here's my kofi! <3

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holding onto the belief that ghost would stubbornly swallow his pride and allow you to decorate him in cutesy unnecessary stickers.

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it starts with price’s recommendation of implementing a routine of handing out stickers after successful missions. he insists it’s a great way to dial into intrinsic motivation. to keep the task force motivated to dedicate their best into every operation. a way to recognize positive behavior. a byproduct of hoping for the most favorable outcome in war where the only images are bloodshed, conflict, and hostility. it’s a stark difference. “who knows,” price’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug as he addresses the fierce group settled around him, “it might just help you lads.” it’s a harmless and cost-efficient idea to justify the boxes of tangible reinforcements that are shipped to the base. literal cartons of sticker books that range from the traditional ‘great work!’ to ‘prized soldier!’ and the notion seems childish (disguised to be more of a scheme, in all honesty). that is, until the pieces of sticky, illustrated adhesives start working– boosting the soldiers’ determination for the taste of victory– because you’re the one handing out the affordable versions of chest candy. they adore saccharine treats. and over time, so does ghost. 

ghost who initially loathes the new process that price endorses. he’s good at his job. knows he’s an expert in clandestine tradecraft. doesn’t need a miniature label tapped on his chest to recognize that no one does a better service in infiltrations or sabotages in risky environments than he does. he’s in and out like a gust of wind. well, more similar to a grim reaper that takes and punishes whoever he deems fit. a brutish force not to be reckoned with. and he reasons that this little sticker ceremony ultimately wastes time. precious alone time that ghost exploits to catch up on some well-deserved rest or exercise. because training after an intense mission totally makes sense to the lieutenant. yet, he’ll doggedly line up with the rest of the task force and await getting crowned with the bane of his existence. doesn’t wish to stir the pot with price and sit through being lectured. so he stays. and he’s a bit taken aback when he catches a glimpse of you handing out the stickers; a beaming smile on your lips while you press an overly exaggerated thumbs-up design onto the front of a soldier’s vest. 

ghost who rasps, “I’ll pass,” before your fingers can pin the sticker onto him. unaware that his voice would come out grainy from the weeklong mission and, involuntarily, blunt. brash. the complete opposite of how he wished to sound towards you. notices the surprise in your eyes due to the acidity of his voice and how you instinctively shrink from him. he shifts, straight away, and hastily tries to take back his tone of voice. to right his wrongs. to atone for his mistake. however, your nervous movement is swiftly replaced with your usual upbeat nature as you plaster on a grin and dramatically bring the back of your hand to your forehead to mimic a fall, “woe is me.” you exhale pointedly while mentioning, “whatever shall I do with all these stickers then?” and ghost understands that it’s so typical of you to hide your hurt with witticism. you’re too considerate. too bright. a touch of color to his monochrome soul. venturing a step closer to you, he lightly scoffs at your melodramatic behavior and remarks, “woe is most definitely not you. now get up, pup.” and before you can comprehend, his gloved hand wraps around your wrist to gently pry it away from your face. “changed my mind,” he murmurs while indicating to the book of stickers that you casted aside, “pick one f’ me, will ya.” 

ghost who refuses to comment on your shaky fingers to save you from embarrassment. it’s endearing that despite the layers of heavy clothing, you’re still hesitant to touch any part of him. “you’re all set,” you quickly chirp before stepping back to admire your handiwork. or so you tell yourself that excuse. in reality, you’re teetering on the edge of becoming distracted by the heat that he radiates. and he savors how your gaze dances across his masked face but evades his intense eyes. the most profound part of him that reduces you to stumbling on your words like a drunk. intoxicated by him. it’s like he’s drinking you in and allowing himself a selfish taste of your beauty. a thought that causes you to heavily gulp. to take your mind off of the blatant yearning, you teasingly raise the sticker book up to him, “how about I add another one? this one has glitter—” “that’ll do,” ghost interjects and turns to leave. his immediate answer and retreat brings about a genuine laugh from your lips. it’s music to his ears. wagering a glance to his chest, he notes the sticker you chose for him. cursive letters twisting into ‘you’re a star!’ followed by a smiling gold star draws his attention. you don’t spot it but as he leaves, his gloved fingers reach up to smooth the sticker over his vest. to pat it down so it stays a while longer. 

ghost who attempts to convince himself that his disinterest toward the small slips of adhesive paper is still the truth. they’re just for show, right? no one really pays attention to how some of the stickers varied in size. they’re all mature adults. and it was completely unrelated how there’s regular bickering amongst various recruits that compared their hard-earned rewards. doesn’t admit that his chest visibly swells with pride whenever the other soldiers point out that ghost always receives the biggest sticker. purposefully taunts them by stating, “get better then, yeah?” he also fails to acknowledge that you’ve coerced and conditioned him to accept them like a pavlov experiment. after all, your unwillingness to comment on how he noticeably leans over so you can put stickers wherever you wished must mean that it doesn’t happen. and in the scenario where it could perhaps occur, you shouldn’t blame him because ghost was certain no one else had the willpower to brush you away. you with gentle fingers and an angelic voice. singing him a siren song whenever you mutter, “for your excellent work, lieutenant,” as you smooth on another ridiculous sticker. his heart stutters in his chest when he feels how your hand tentatively flattens against his chest. the broad muscle causing you to hum appreciatively before gracing him with a coy smile. an interaction that replays in his mind whenever he’s awake and follows him to sleep. 

ghost who clenches his fist so tightly that his blunt nails bite into his own palm when he overhears a lowly recruit outrightly insult the implemented routine. hears them utter (when you’re out of earshot of course because goodness forbid that they have courage) ‘bullshit’ and how you were ‘off your rocker for putting up with this waste of time.’ and ghost isn’t usually responsive in situations like this. he’s got a covert operation to focus on in about 15 minutes. a level-headed person was far more intimidating and efficient during classified matters. now, however, his heavy boots thud against the floorboards when he stalks toward the recruit. an abrupt wave of darkness and unabridged horror before the recruit is face-to-face with ghost. “problem?” he asks challenges, voice dead and devoid of sympathy. his head slowly tilts and the action creates a dismal shadow over the eye sockets of his mask. ominous and menacing. everything that ghost is infamous for. knows he’s won when the recruit’s apology is nasally and on the verge of crying but their reaction isn’t his personal interest. what he does undertake as his responsibility, though, is when he’s called into price’s office for a debrief. he pockets some of the miscellaneous sticker books that sit on the superior’s desk. wordlessly hands them to you when you’re both briefly passing each other in the hallway. and while you profusely thank him for the additional sets (vaguely wondering what caused the change in his behavior), you playfully press a sticker above the lower portion of his mask– right where his lips are. somewhere new. you leave him rooted to the spot, the sweet gesture sending him into a stupor, and call over your shoulder, “compensation for the stickers!” he watches as you hurriedly dart away before he can react but there’s no need. he unabashedly smuggles more stickers from price’s office in hopes of reaping a similar repayment again.

ghost who reasons that stickers aren’t that bad if you’re the one giving them out. he organizes himself with the rest of the force, a brooding figure that patiently waits in the back of the line. favors being the last one because you’re able to utter more than a few words of encouragement to him. if he’s lucky then you converse and excitedly share your day with him– like you currently are. “want me all to yourself, do you?” you heartily tease him upon noticing that he’s consistently been last in line for the third time in a row. he shifts on his feet, makes a show of looking around at his fellow team members that are filtering out of the room, and deliberately concedes, “‘suppose so.” his frank answer is followed by a flustered roll of your eyes but it’s the genuineness that causes your heart to flip. you force yourself to concentrate on the task at hand– giving out prizes. unsteady fingers lifting at the sticker page, you skim the options before spotting a perfect one. your teeth catch the edge of your bottom lip as you can’t help but question, “you say that to everyone, simon?” his real name on your glossy lips. a prayer that he desires to hear being chanted over and over as he holds you in his arms. the gaze he wraps you in is burning. tempting. exhilarating. you push yourself up on your toes to reach out and place a sticker on his cheek. on the hard shell of his skull mask that you’ve learned will ultimately end in halfhearted chiding because the adhesive is difficult to remove off of it. ghost catches a glimpse of the sticker that you’ve picked. the bolded words of ‘#1 lieutenant’ flashes at him. and the sticker is like a brand you’ve adorned him in. an embellishment that he proudly displays and wears because it’s what you’ve given him. he hums, dark and inquiring, when he leans to graze his masked lips against your inner wrist. his eyes are heady and half-lidded. clouded with a violent craving for you– always you. visibly strains to make contact with your exposed skin by tilting his head to place another chaste kiss on your hand while murmuring, “just to the sweet ‘n pretty ones that I fancy.” 

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. reader and gojo are married, reader is wearing heels and earrings. a little bitty love note for my valentine. wc 1.3k | divider thanks to cafekitsune 💓

Tuesday nights have long been decreed to be designated date nights in the Gojo household.

Bearing in mind how busy the two of you tend to be, this standing appointment doesn’t always work out the way it was planned when you started the tradition and there have been several occasions where you and Satoru have had “dates” in the form of sharing meals from miles away via video chat but tonight, he is all yours. In the flesh, a day ahead of what is widely viewed as a romantic holiday, and wearing your favorite dress shirt with a smirk across his face.

“So, I’ve been thinkin’.” He announces from across your walk-in closet, fastening the buttons on either side of his wrists and walking in your direction. Raising your eyebrows while you fasten in your favorite pair of earrings, you hum at him, concealing a smile to the best of your ability.

“That can be a dangerous thing.”

Your husband chuckles and joins your side, leaning down to press his face against yours. He steals a glance at your reflections in the small mirror atop your standing jewelry box and puckers his lips, turning his head enough that he can kiss you before suggesting what is on his mind.

“Remember how we used to pretend to get engaged to get free dessert?”

Snorting, you nod, attempting to secure the back of your earring onto the post keeping it in your lobe. Satoru grabs the small piece of metal from you and takes over, leaning down as close as he can to you to get the job done.

“I recall.”

Of course you remember all of the times he pulled a fake ring out of his pocket for attention, applause, and a celebratory slice of cake he didn’t have to purchase despite absolutely being able to afford it. The first time you were mortified, hot cheeked and taken aback by the possibility he may have actually been proposing to you, but each time it became easier to react the way that would make people happiest for you. Keeping the absolute lack of romance in his actual proposal in mind, you’ve always held these fake ones close to your heart.

It feels like he spent years proposing to you culminating in the real thing - how romantic is that? Both of you insist that you aren’t romantics yet the way you love each other speaks for itself.

“Let’s do it again.”

“Oh you’re dastardly,” you tease with a half smile, your palms smoothing out any wrinkles in his dress shirt while fiddling with the buttons keeping it closed. “You really want to?”

“Duh, it’ll be fun.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at your husband’s antics and remove your palms from his chest to slip your ring off. Your lower lip dips out in a pout with each inch the golden band moves and Satoru’s heart squeezes in his chest watching it. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested such a silly stunt, no matter the laughs that would be shared over it later.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Nodding, you grab his hand and face his palm upward, depositing your band in the smooth center of it, followed by the engagement ring you wear stacked with it. Your left finger is bare for the first time in years and you wiggle it with a giggle, shoving it upward in the direction of his face.

“For old times sake.”

It’s a very good thing the two of you picked a restaurant that deviates from your usual plans otherwise this entire little plot would fail spectacularly. Tadashi, the chef at your favorite place close to your home, would have spotted the two of you in a second and given you a wry smile and tutted at your dishonesty.

“Are you sure this is gonna work? We seem pretty, I dunno…married?” You question everything happening right now, unexpectedly feeling a little insecure about lying. The click of your heels on the sidewalk perfectly mingles with Satoru’s footsteps that he intentionally shortens when the two of you are together. There are so many subtleties that will give you away including the mere fact you are obsessively in love with each other and fail to hide it.

Your husband simply chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hopefully they’re giving out the good desserts tonight,” your husband mutters while weaving his fingers in between yours and swinging your joined hands between your bodies. He’s so effortlessly boyish sometimes you want to be annoyed but find it difficult to be when the stars are twinkling just right and the cool air nipping at his cheeks makes them a rosy pink.

If you loved him less, you’d be more frustrated. Adoration is a balm that soothes most of your frustration with him at any given time so you’re happily preparing to go along with all of this, smiling at the hostess standing at the front of the restaurant when you enter.

“Two for Gojo,” he proudly states to the woman who whisks the two of you off toward your reserved table. You smile at her the entire time but you notice her smile dim after she catches sight of your joined hands. With a nod, she moves so you can slide into your chair and he does the same and you hum to yourself.

“That was weird, right?”

Satoru just shrugs and you roll your eyes, picking up the menu and scanning over it once. Your waiter arrives with a polite half bow and immediately, your husband’s face lights up. It’s too late to tell him to stop whatever he’s planning now, his right hand dipping under the table to fish around in his pocket for your engagement ring.

“Are we celebrating anything tonight?”

The server’s words immediately make you panic and your eyes widen when Satoru pushes his chair out and stands, presenting a very familiar ring in his palm. Taking a deep breath, you gasp and do your best to feign shock and surprise, noticing the same horrified look on the server’s face when he glances at Gojo’s hands.

“Yes, we are. We are getting married!”

Glancing at his left hand, you immediately notice what the shock is about. Rather than fuss at him you rush to cover your mouth with your right hand and nod rapidly as though you are totally taken aback. Holding your left hand out, he slips your ring back onto its home finger. He beams at you with every movement, practically bursting with joy, and seats him back at the table across from you.

“You forgot to take your ring off,” you whisper-hiss out of the side of your mouth and your husband looks down at his left hand that grips the edge of the dinner table. Sure as anything, the golden band you slipped on the digit years ago glistens under the low restaurant lighting and you fight the urge to giggle and blow the entire operation wide open. The clearly uncomfortable server bows his head at each of you, filling your empty water glasses for the sake of having something to do, before scurrying away with his head pointed firmly toward the ground.

“He probably thinks I’m your mistress now.”

Satoru shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side.

“You are my wife, my mistress, and the love of my life, what can I say? The plan worked perfectly if he believed it.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach across the table and run your thumb over his fingers and the gold band adorning his ring finger.

“You’re such a romantic.”

He smirks and wraps your hand in his.

“But I’m your romantic.”

The two of you are so lost in your own little world you don’t realize the server and hostess off to the side discussing the married man proposing to another woman, gesturing wildly at each other. Fake proposal aside, you are excited to have an evening to enjoy with the man who shakes your world up at every opportunity and he glances at the menu for a scant moment before turning to look up at you, blue eyes narrowed.

“Do you think they’ll still give us dessert?”

Laughing, you shrug and squeeze his hand.

“I think we should probably plan on just buying one this time.”

[gothcsz]

but Javi when there’s an actual guy around neighbour readers apartment

Like the hallway smells delicious from the food she cooked and the dessert she baked for their date and he can hear the chatter and laughter and it’s getting later and later and that fucker isn’t fucking leaving 😡😡😡😡😡 so he knocks on her door pretending he needs her help with something and tries to scare the guy off lmao

Can just see him all intimidatingly strolling through the room, sizing the guy up and making some dumb af comments lmao

OKAY YOU GUYS ENOUGH!! (👀) WE CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS!! (👀) I CAN'T AFFORD TO BE OBSESSED WITH A NEW PAIRING/CONCEPT!! (👀) lore for neighbor javi keeps building

“¿Necesitas ayuda?” Javier’s voice comes out of nowhere as he sidles up behind you, eyeing the grocery bags stacked in your arms.

You exhale a sigh of relief, shooting him that bright, grateful smile that’s impossible for him not to return. “Yes, please.”

In seconds, he’s taken most of the bags, his fingers brushing yours just slightly. As you walk down the hallway to your apartment door, he gives the groceries a curious glance, an amused tilt to his brow. “This is a lot. Feeding a whole family, ¿o qué?”

Your cheeks flush. You knew you might’ve gone overboard for dinner tonight, but the comment makes you second-guess everything. You bite your lip, shifting nervously. “I... I have a date tonight. He’s coming over for dinner.”

Javier’s steps falter for a beat before he follows you inside, the sour shift in his demeanor evident. “Oh. Who’s the lucky guy?” he manages, though his jaw is tight. You, however, are too busy mentally organizing tonight’s plans to catch the strain in his tone.

This is your attempt at carving out a new path for yourself. One that isn’t attached to your job or revolved around your handsome neighbor. 

Mateo, the banker, is exactly what you need right now. You see him every couple of weeks when you deposit your check; he’s handsome, charming, and always good for a laugh.

You have this running joke about him feeding you information for an elaborate, fictional heist. It’s silly and refreshing—everything that keeps you grounded and away from thoughts of Javier.

You’ve already spent too many evenings thinking about him while he brings other women home. 

“Mateo. El que trabajo en el banco,” you say, carefully practicing the Spanish he’s been helping you with. “How was that?”

The whiplash from being irritated to amused almost disorients him. A small smile tugs at his mouth, shaking him momentarily from his jealous induced reverie. “Good. Trabaja not trabajo. That’s past tense.” He corrects you politely.

A banker? Javier can already picture him—a polished, safe, number-crunching type with a predictable routine and zero clue on what it takes to be with a woman like you. The thought turns his stomach.

“Close enough,” you shrug, but still noting his correction. You’re definitely making improvements, all thanks to him. 

“Not that it’s any of my business…” he starts, though his voice of reason is telling him to shut the fuck up. “Is it the same guy from the other night?”

You almost drop the carton of eggs in your hand. He’s still on that? “You’re right, it isn’t any of your business.” However, that same feeling you got from when he was at your doorstep, all bothered, returns, and you continue, “But yes, it is. I guess I left a big enough of an impression to warrant another visit.”

You have no idea where you’re pulling all this confidence from, but you need to pump the brakes before this little white lie of yours turns into a big, colorful one.

He watches as you crouch by the open fridge, neatly arranging the groceries, calm as ever, while his mind spirals. 

Javier doesn’t even want to dissect what you’ve just said. One night in your bed and this Mateo is being gluttonous about seeing you again.

One night of feeling your body beneath his… on top… bent over, moaning sweetly just for him, your cunt fluttering around his cock—has this asshole wanting more.

He doesn’t even realize he’s balled his fists at his sides until he feels his nails pressing into his palms.

“Look at you,” he mutters gruffly as he attempts to mask the irritation. “Scorin’ dates.” It sounds more like an accusation than encouragement, and he knows it, but he can’t help himself.

You look at him over your shoulder, surprised by his tone, eyebrow raised. “¿Todo bien?”

He clears his throat, glancing at his watch to avoid meeting your eyes. “Claro,” he says, too quickly. “I gotta head out anyway. Got a meeting.”

Probably with some woman that looks like she belongs on the front cover of a magazine. You mentally shake the jealousy away—you’ve got a date tonight that you’ve actually been looking forward to all week.

“Okay. Be safe, Javi. You can close the door behind you.”

With a disappointed sigh, he lingers a moment longer, like he’s waiting for something—a proper goodbye, maybe.  But you’re so wrapped up in thoughts of someone else and that only adds fuel to the fire he’s harboring inside.

His shoulders slump as if he’s been turned away. It’s absurd, how disappointed he feels at such a small dismissal. “Bueno… diviértete,” he mutters before finally turning to leave.

It’s late, and Javier’s pacing his apartment, unable to ignore the muffled laughter and music seeping through his walls. The hallway outside your door smells like heaven—a mix of whatever meal you put together and something sweet.

The later it gets, the more unbearable the jealousy becomes. Why isn’t he leaving? He’s not naive, he knows exactly why. Not when he has a beautiful girl like you cooking, catering to him, offering yourself up in the most desirable way possible.

Javier wonders if you’re wearing a pretty set of lingerie or if you’ve kept it simple. You strike him as a simple kind of girl, but the idea of you skimping around in sexy lacy sets in fun colors has his cock stirring. Then he remembers who you’re wearing them for.

It’s ridiculous the way his blood boils over the thought of you with some pretentious suit. Unable to take another second of it, he strides out of his place to firmly knock at your door, his mind set on only one thing: making his presence known.

Inside, you glance at Mateo with a playful smirk. “Guess the cops finally caught on to our bank heist plan,” you joke, getting up from the couch to answer.

But when you open it, it’s not the police—it’s the only person it can be.

Javier’s expression wavers just for a split second as he takes you in—his gaze running slowly down the length of your dress, fitted in all the right places, hugging your body in a way that makes his throat tighten. His jaw clenches as his eyes flick back up to your face. 

“Javier,” you say, forcing a polite smile despite his obvious stare. “Everything okay?”

Ignoring the question, he barges right in, gaze hardening as he takes in the scene—a romantic ambiance, this good for nothing on your couch, enjoying your things.

Mateo glances at you as he slowly rises from his spot, raising a brow, as though trying to size up exactly what’s going on.

You shoot him an apologetic look. “This is my very annoying next door neighbor Javier.” You tone is strained, throwing a very not so subtle hint at the agent in your living room.

“Just thought I’d check if your headboard ever got fixed.” Javi’s voice drips with mock concern, “It’s so damn noisy. Constantly banging up against the wall. Real loud.”

Anxiety floods your body, keeping you glued to your spot, eyes widening as you realize where he is headed with this. This is what you get for lying.

“A pillow might help,” he continues with a careless shrug. “Keeps it from hitting the wall. You know, a little courtesy wouldn’t hurt. No one wants to hear you fucking her.”

“Javier, stop,” you hiss, finally finding the will to step between the two of them, heart hammering at his audacity.

Mateo’s posture stiffens, and his eyes narrow. He looks between you both, a muscle in his jaw ticking as Javier crosses his arms.

“Mira, hermano,” Mateo says, holding his hands up, tone growing defensive. Javier scoffs. “Creo que estamos bien. Not sure why you think you need to be here right now.”

You feel your pulse in your throat, anger and embarrassment from his behavior prickling at you as you point to the door. “Leave. Now.”

He bites down on his tongue, his jaw flexing hard as he struggles to keep himself in check. “Fine. Just… keep it down,” he mutters, marching out as quickly as he stormed in.

You let out a breath, murmuring a quick apology to Mateo before following him to the door, catching him just as he steps into the hallway. “We’ll talk about this later when you’re not being weird,” you whisper-yell, the frustration clear in your tone.

Before he can respond, you shut the door firmly, twisting the lock and leaning against it for a second to collect yourself. You smooth down your dress, take a deep breath, and shake off the heat of the moment before returning to your date, flashing him a reassuring smile as you settle back in.

The next day, you’re heading home from work when you spot Javier leaning against the building, cigarette in hand, looking out over the parking lot. His stance is casual, but there’s something stormy about his gaze, fixed on the distant skyline.

“Still in a pissy mood?” you ask, raising a brow as you approach.

He flirtatiously drags his eyes down your work clothes, that unreadable look of his making your heart skip. He blows the smoke away from your face. “About that…”

You give him a look, urging him to go on.

“Had a rough day. Just wanted some peace and quiet but all I could hear was you two.”

There’s an apology in his tone, and despite yourself, your irritation softens, just a little. “I’m sorry you had a rough day, but that doesn’t mean you can just… do that.” The words waver under his gaze, and damn him for how easily he gets to you with just a look.

He nods, a small frown creasing his brow. “I know, cariño. Perdoname. It won’t happen again.” His voice is gentler now, his dark eyes earnest, and you feel your frustration dissolving against your better judgment.

You huff, feigning a stern look. “It better not. If it does, I might actually move out. Then you’ll really have your peace and quiet.”

His mouth curves into a smirk as he takes another drag. “You do that, I’ll never eat again, and you’ll definitely never learn Spanish.”

You can’t help but playfully roll your eyes. “Vete a la mierda.”

The smirk on his lips turns into a full blown smile. His genuine laugh is so warm, pulling a grin from you too. It’s a sound you’d do anything to hear every day, that rare openness that feels almost like a privilege.

You don’t tell him how you, too, hear every sound that slips through these thin walls, or how your heart cracks a little each time you brush past one of his fleeting lovers in the hallway.

Instead, you just tuck the ache away, choosing to stay right here, grateful for these small moments that let you be close to him.

[yayll]

I’ve never seen anyone write this but maybe a reader who is afraid of dogs? Like, really afraid (me😭) only If you wanna do it ofc <3

sweet baby angel thank u for waiting, i hope u like this and it was what u wanted! i think this concept was so fun AND SO FITTING BC DAZAI + DOGS... A MESS. and when ur involved, chaossss bc he has a little angel and devil on his shoulder. so basically i love u. mwah.

~ a little something about defending your honor... from dogs ~

"Eugh! what a petulant little thing!"

"Osamu! don't bark at it, it'll bite!"

"I thought you were afraid of dogs?! it disrespected you, the ferocious beast!"

You sigh, your nerves only settling just a bit so you can take the time to explain to him the consequences of his actions. You take a deep breath, swallowing with a loud gulp as you tremble.

"He only barked at me, Osamu... Ahh, c'mon, let's just go or he'll do worse! We also can't afford legal troubles if you get arrested for messing with a dog."

He feigns indignation, and stands a little taller.

"I'll have you know the agency would NEVER let me drown in legal fees! And unfortunately, drown in general..."

He then smirks at you, tapping the tip of your nose with a wink as he continues.

"... Besides, I'd make a pretty hot jailbird huh? I wonder, would I be dressed in white like a virginal bride or that awful shade of Orange-"

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as you tug on his arm.

"Can we like, get back to the topic of you beefing with a dog? No one is going to jail."

"Except for me if you won't let me do my job!"

You scoff, raising a brow as you glare at him in disbelief, your eyes darting between the dog and Dazai.

"You already HAVE a job, and you barely do it might I add."

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and giving you an exhasperated sigh like the brat he is. He knows you eat it right up! He does it for you, after all. Though with the way you look so afraid and skittish right now, he can barely hide how thrilled it makes him to be able to at least distract you from the situation with his antics. The unstoppable jester in your sweet court.

"Oh please, you're just deflecting now. You know I'm a dabbler! You can't pin me down!"

You nod in faux understanding, unable to hide the smile that's beginning to imprint itself on your face as you try to resist his nonsensical charms... And failing as always.

"Ah.. Right, right. Can we just go? I'm kind of freaking out right now."

He clicks his tongue and walks closer to you, leaning in and scanning your very aura with his trademark elusiveness, as if x-raying your soul. He has no use for the concept of personal space, and it's even worse when the scent you're currently wearing keeps roping him closer and closer.

"Just answer me something. Would you visit me in prison? Y'know, for bringing justice against the criminal offenses being carried out on you today by this little rat?"

He states firmly, not really a question at all. He glares at the dog, who begins to slowly cower away from you both as if getting the message.

You tilt your head, shrugging as you think it through despite how abrupt the circling back of the topic was. Dazai really was odd when he wanted to be, but his offputting nature was one of the most alluring things about him, it was over for you the second you both laid eyes on each other.

"... Well, I'd think it's silly that that's the reason you ended up there, but of course I would."

He smiles wide at that. Of course you would.

You eventually manage to mediate the altercation between the canine and your boyfriend after much bickering; the dog leaves you both alone and you go on with the rest of your day together in as much peace as one can have around Dazai. When it gets late, you part ways with a lengthy kiss goodnight, everything from the earlier melting away into a fuzzy bliss when he squeezes your waist and whispers your favorite things into your ear before reluctantly letting you go. You're starting to walk a few feet the opposite way when your cellphone begins to ring.

It's Dazai.

You pick it up and mumble with confusion, seeing as you just left him.

"Osamu?"

You can hear mischief in his voice when he replies, his voice dropping to a low and sultrier tone laced with something else you can't identify.

"Bark Bark."

"Huh?"

"Hi again, honey!~ Just wanted to let you know that the only dog allowed to bark at you is me. You better run along home now, or I might just follow you~"

"Ah, I'm trembling."

You roll your eyes, but the pink hue in your cheeks betray your sarcasm.

"Oh my! Don't say that, I'm not liable for whatever happens next if you keep talking to me so dirtyyy."

You turn around, smirking as you shake your head in mock disapproval at the way he won't let this topic fully die down. You just have to admire his commitment to the bit... And the way he shamelessly flirts with you every chance he gets. You find him simply staring at you with such intensity, not having moved at all from where you had said goodbye with his phone glued to his ear, his smugness practically glowing as if it were radioactive.

He waves, blowing you a kiss like the menace he is.

You catch it, laughing softly as you bring your closed fist to your mouth. This causes him to clutch his chest and stumble as if he were about to fall backwards, giggling before sticking his hands into his coat pockets to finally be on his way.

When you start walking again, he stops one more time, turning back to watch you with his forever attentive eyes. They darken at the memory of you being so afraid earlier, a small smile tugging at his lips when he thinks about how much more carefree and content you looked just a second ago... Because of him. He meant it when he said he'd defend your honor and he thinks it's adorable how you don't think about the awful things he's done to others in the past for much less.

It's a Bark Bark world and he's happy to be on your leash. What can he say? You keep him a virtuous man.

[soupbabe]

Hey! So recently I was thinking back to the cannibal! reader with stu, and I was wondering if you can do that with the Sinclair siblings (separate ofc) with an s/o that’s a cannibal

The Sinclair Brothers with a Cannibal! S/o

Tbh cannibal reader is one of my fav kinds of reader to write <3 Honestly, these aren't the most romantic headcanons around, they're silly at most 😅

Warning: mentions and talk of blood and guts I guess lmao, the title is enough warning

Bo Sinclair

- Okay yeah Bo isn't known for his moral compass but I know that you were able to freak him out

- Today was rough, he's been chasing and going after a victim that he was sure slipped through his fingertips So to make him feel better you made him some chilli, not quite telling him what was in it yet

- He'd air out his grievances with his failure and you reassure him that you caught them for him...just to tell him that you're eating them right now.

- His eyes go wide as he spits out his food, he's more mad that you didn't tell him what's in his food than the actual act

- After Bo's initial shock calms down, he'll pull you close and kiss your forehead, telling you that you did a good job hunting and am even better job at cooking <3

- though if we're being honest it still traumatized him just a lil bit. From now on, everytime you serve him something with meat, he's side eyeing it and poking it around to make sure it wasn't someone he thought Vincent nabbed first

Vincent Sinclair

- I do think that you and Vincent would argue time to time just because of how protective he can be around the bodies

- He can't afford a body part to go missing for his sculptures, his brothers can't count on their hands the amount of times Vincent has nagged them for damaging the victims so severely

- Ignore that he has canonically decapitated a guy with no issue shh

- So there's a new rule for the two of you: first come first serve. Whoever captures and kills first gets to keep it.

- Honestly it's like a fun little game between you two, something to bond over

- Though I'd imagine there are moments where Vincent is sweet on you and tries to harvest some meat for you, sew his victims back up, and use them like they're good as new <3

Lester Sinclair

- I think he surprises himself with how calm he is when he sees you eating out of the not-100%-roadkill pile when you first meet. He knows what you're eating isn't deer or squirrel

- Sure, it's not something he'd ever think he'd ever see, he's keeping a knife close as he gets closer and takes you in

- I can't explain it but it's not that Lester is accepting and no judgemental of your diet, it's more that he's learned over the years to just not question things and to roll with the punches

- He likes to keep his s/o satisfied, he wants to make sure you at least eat your food safely and healthily

- So he hatches a plan to lurk outside Ambrose, wait for those who get to escape the twins, only for them to get "accidentally" ran over.

- Lester is such a sweetheart and is willing to wait all night for escapes and maybe a hitchhiker if he's desperate. He's always making sure that you're gonna be fed and stocked up for the next week <3

[pompadourpink]

It's a new beginning!

Hello children,

September is coming, school too for some of you - often a great moment for a bit of decluttering and a few new good resolutions. Here am I, offering myself as one of them!

As you hopefully know, I started this blog in 2016 and have been a private tutor since the beginning of the pandemic. I have room at the moment for several new students, so here is what I offer:

Classes, obviously - the typical schedule is one hour a week, sometimes one and a half, or one every two weeks, or two every two weeks; typically same day same time (I'm always happy to make adjustments if you work shifts)

Homework, if you can make the time for it. I typically prefer it to be finished by the middle of the week so that I have time to take a look and correct it, giving you the opportunity to give it a second try before class!

Depending on your preferences, either just a few activities so we can take our time, especially if you are a beginner, or something a bit more dynamic consisting in five to ten minute long activities to keep you motivated and alert (which seems to be a crowd's favourite as most of my students are neurodivergent).

Talking activities are typically answering series of questions I share from my Notion, talking about your week, summarising a book or a movie, making me guess a word or a person, or a concept I call "alien talk" where you explain something (like a vaccine or insurance) from scratch to a little red man.

Writing activities are often fictional (I have students create a little character on a website and we write an update about their life regularly), they can also be an overview of your month, a letter to quit your horrible job or convince Snoop Dog to marry you because you are a gold digger.

Transcribing activities, especially at the beginning, are either me reading very easy sentences so you can write them down and memorise the way things sound, then it's episodes from young children's shows, extracts from very famous movies, then we hit harder and turn to gameshows or podcasts.

Translating activities, from one language to another, are a written translation of the first page of a novel (I did the Secret History recently), or a newspapers article (we are working on this one at the moment); or an oral translation of songs lyrics, fairytales, children's books, muted captioned playthroughs of your favourite games on Youtube, etc.

Finally, a few games: silly quizzes, crosswords, Wordle and even Quordle, hangman, and sometimes we even sing if you're comfortable with that.

Here is the link of my website where you will find reviews and a list of what to send me to get the process started. A few things to know:

I try to make the activities fit your preferences: get me a list of what you like and that is what we will work on. If your first language is not English, I am happy to include it, I'm always eager to learn (I've been reviewing my Spanish this way!)

I work without cameras. I don't need to see your face, I just need a voice and a good Internet connection. All students are welcome, no matter if you have an accent, a stutter, or disabilities. Do not be afraid of being judged, there is none of that here.

I ask for your contact information to be able to do my billing, no one else sees it and no one will know if you give me the address of a building in your area if you feel more comfortable this way. If you prefer to have a lesson first and decide that you want to continue before sending me your info, that's also an option.

I have a student and a regular rate, depending on what you can afford, and we can make different arrangements if your country's rate makes it too difficult, I've done it before.

Please comment if you have a question!

Much love,

Rose

[thewritingwolfie]

trusting - harvey sdv fic

pairing: Harvey x Farmer OC (September)

warnings: mentions of sex (!!MDNI!!), self-doubt & anxious thinking patterns (from Harvey), hurt comfort if there was more comfort than hurt

summary: after a night of role-switching, September can't convince Harvey to let her take care of him

word count: 1.2k

a/n: LMAO AM I FORMATTING THIS RIGHT. first time I'm ever posting a fic on like. almost anything (except i did a couple things on ao3 a bit ago but that's different). hopefully this is super cool and not cringe gang <33

~~~ Harvey wouldn’t hear anything of it.

He was standing in his apartment, nearly naked, flummoxed, and staring at a very exasperated September. She’d come to see him for the evening, but after-hours alone at the clinic usually meant things led from one thing to another. Well, most of the time, Harvey prided himself on the aftercare aspect of things after knocking her socks off. But tonight, he had not only taken on a more… submissive role, but now she was insisting she take on that caretaker role.

“No, no, September. Sit down. I can get us our usual snacks,” he said, holding up a hand to silence her protests. It was his job, in and out of this relationship, to take care of her.

September groaned, running her hands through her hair. “Harvey, love of my life, apple of my eye, I swear to Yoba.”

“What? This is what we do every time.” He went to take a step forward, having to pace himself from his wobbly legs. September hadn’t exactly spared him. “We get, ah, intimate, we wind down, and I take care of you. I don’t really understand what your problem is.”

“My problem, love, is that our dynamic was different tonight. You wobbled as you stepped, don’t think I didn’t see it,” September replied, cocking an eyebrow at his legs.

Shit. She was always an observant type. Harvey adjusted his glasses, face dusted with pink. “Well, yes, I suppose, but-”

“No buts.” She gently stepped up to him, pushing his shoulders so he fell back onto the couch in his living room. “I’ll make some snacks. Rest up.”

“September-!” he gasped, making a move to sit up. But his body, wracked with aftershocks and exhaustion, let out a protest stronger than his will. He grumbled, crossing his arms. Why was she being so insistent? 

He watched her in his tiny kitchen, pulling together some snacks on a plate. She looked so calm, so intent on doing this. Some pang of emotion shot through Harvey’s chest as he watched her move, only in her undergarments, bringing over glasses and wine and food. She was pushing herself too hard, wasn’t she? He had to step in, he had to be the chivalrous doctor everyone knew him to be-

His flurry of thoughts was interrupted by the feeling of the farmer’s body bumping his as she sat down. “Here, I got those little pickles you like so much. You should eat, you’ll feel better.”

Harvey stared at the plate. He… didn’t have an appetite. “Why?”

“Hm?” September cocked her head.

“Why are you… doing this? I mean- it’s my job. I’m a doctor, I take care of you, right?” he spoke slowly, his hands rubbing the edge of the couch nervously. “You work so hard, doing your farmwork all day, not to mention the mines, a-and running errands for the town… this is the least I can do, isn’t it?”

September watched him speak, watching his face twitch with despair as he spoke. His voice began to crack. She’d never seen him so… vulnerable. Harvey almost burned with shame. Why wasn’t she responding?

“Oh, Harv,” she whispered, reaching over to cup his cheek. “You do so much for me. I never expect you to just- to just throw yourself into caretaker mode after we mess around, dear. You deserve that same care you give to me, silly!” She laughed softly, kissing his cheek, speaking so casually as if it was information he’d know all along.

Harvey felt a soft choke of tears. How was this so easy for her to say? He couldn’t afford to let himself relax as a doctor. He never had. “September-”

She shook her head. “Hold on.” September wrapped around him, pulling him onto her chest as she laid back on the arm of the couch. “Okay, talk.”

Had he ever been held like this? Harvey opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a soft whimper. The whimper gave way to the dam in his throat and behind his eyes, which gave way to a soft, strangled sob.

September startled, pulling him tight. “Oh- love, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, tangling a hand in his soft hair. “Hey, shh, shh, I’m here. Did something go wrong during our-?”

“No," he whispered softly, weakly pulling his glasses off of his face to wipe at his eyes. In front of her? He felt even more awful. “No, no, everything was- was nice, I just-" 

He let out a shaky sigh as she curled her fingers at the base of his neck, massaging it with gentle care. She hummed softly, feeling his body shake from trying to hold in his tears. “Not used to this?" she whispered, a sympathetic smile on her lips.

“I'm supposed to take care of you," he whined, hugging her waist. “Why can't I-?" 

“Because you're exhausted, Harvey. You have done so much for others today. How many checkups have you done?” she asked, not giving him a breath to answer. They both knew. "How many records have you filed?” Too many. 

Harvey buried his head in her skin, considering her. She was too soft and too comfortable to fight anymore, so he gave in. But still, mentally, he couldn't relax. “September-" 

“Harvey, can you listen to me for a second?" 

He couldn't say no, so he just nodded.

She sat up, gently propping them both against the couch in a half-up half-down position. He laid on her chest and her arms encircled him. "Okay. Look. You're a doctor. How important is after are for a patient after a medical experience such as a surgery?" 

“Vital," Harvey responded, barely thinking. It was like he was back in med school for a mere blink of an eye.

“Exactly. And if a patient has a panic attack, how important is aftercare?" 

“Still vital." 

“Uh huh. So tell me why this is different,” September said, kissing the crown of his head.

Here he fell silent. He felt September smile against his skin.

“Exactly. Harvey, you are a human as much as anyone else. No one could ever ask you to be on target 24/7. If you didn't sleep at night you'd crash and burn for sure.” She tilted his head up so his eyes met hers, smiling brighter to make sure he could see it through the fuzz of tears and the lack of glasses. “I love you. I feel no weird begrudging obligation. I will always be there to catch you when you fall. And I need you to trust that I will tell you when I can't. Can I trust you to trust me?”

His eyes flicked between the blobs that he was sure were her own. Could he trust her? With his life. So why was this so hard to swallow? Was it even safe? Was he safe?

Harvey took a slow breath. Of course he was.

"Okay,” he croaked, voice a little weak from the night. "I can.”

"Good,” September mumbled, kissing him briefly. "We can trust each other.”

Harvey hummed, sleep threatening to overtake him. He hugged September closer, burying into her skin, making her giggle against him. Maybe he couldn't be entirely sure. But even a small chance of success was worth going for, wasn't it?

Finally, fading into the soft, welcoming arms of sleep, Harvey let go for the first time.

[icallhimjoey]

FINISH PART 5 NOWWWWWW ‼️‼️‼️

ALL RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT ‼️‼️‼️ Wordcount: 3.9K

---

Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

What the fuck were you doing?

You’d asked yourself this question about 43 times already, and each time, the answer changed.

He’d asked. And you had nothing better to do. He said he’d help. Would be rude to say no. Any excuse to hang out with him for a little bit, really. Especially now that you wouldn’t be able to see him at work anymore.

And you know what? Maybe there really was some magical way of getting your job back. Joe’d said he was going to talk to Martin and he had and then he’d sent an address. Told you to come over the next night.

So, you did.

You texted a picture of Joe’s flat and added, “this one?” and literal seconds later got a reply, telling you which doorbell to ring. Like a simple scroll up wouldn’t give you the same information.

As Joe buzzed you in and you stepped into the lift, you asked yourself again: what the fuck were you even doing?

You couldn’t have predicted what you walked in on. Not in a million years.

“Joe, what the... oh, my God...”

First of all, it was a little weird seeing Joe in a different place that wasn’t the bar. You had seen him in other places. Your own bed, for one. But still. It took a little getting used to.

Second of all, Joe lived in a fucking nice place. The type of place you would never be able to afford. Especially not now, with the loss of the job and all that.

And then thirdly, and what had you most shocked, his kitchen island looked like... it looked nothing short of an actual cocktail bar.

Bottles of liquor, all sorts, short fat ones and big tall ones, dark and clear, liquor bottles like the ones you used in the bar every day and then lots of others that you never touched. All of them full. Still sealed.

Amongst all of the bottles there were different types of glasses, a net of lemons, a net of limes, some large oranges, an actual blow torch, and not to forget, a full cocktail shaker set. All the equipment you needed to... well, to make cocktails.

“Welcome, welcome,” Joe said, walking around the island like he was stepping behind a bar and held his arms out wide. “Are you ready to get to work?”

You just stared at him. Stood in the middle of the doorway still, coat halfway down your arms, and you were more than a little confused. In shock too, maybe.

“So,” Joe clapped his hands together and was about to explain what you were looking at.

You had an inkling, though, and interrupted him.

“Shut the fuck up, this must’ve cost a fortune?” your eyes were about to pop from your skull. “An actual fortune– did you... please tell me you, like, I don’t know, you know someone who’s been able to bring this over and that you get to take it back later?”

He couldn’t have actually gone and bought all of this. Could he?

“Ah,” Joe let his held breath escape him as he bashfully smiled, looked at what was laid out in front of him for a second and their scrunched up his nose and waved it off. “Yea, ‘course I can. The unopened ones, at least.”

So, yea, he bought them.

From a store.

Great.

“Joe...”

“So,” Joe made big eyes at you, raised his eyebrows, and clapped his hands together again, shutting you right up as he went on to explain. “I talked to Martin, like I said I would, and he just... well, he just said that it’s a little difficult to have a slow learner on staff in a busy time of year, you know?”

You scoffed a little, couldn’t help the humourless smirk. Slow learner was... well that was one way of describing you.

“And, so look!” he gestured an arm across the island. Across all the bottles and the bar equipment.

“I... I’m looking,”

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Like this was going to work.

Like practicing making drinks would convince Martin enough to rehire you.

It wouldn’t. You knew it wouldn’t.

But, you took off your coat fully anyway, draped it across one of the stools on the opposite end of the island and walked around to join Joe where he was stood.

“Here’s the menu,” Joe said, picking up an actual menu from Hush-Hush.

“Did– did you steal this?”

“And here’s the Christmas menu,” Joe ignored you and just placed the stolen Christmas menu over the stolen regular menu in your hands.

You looked at it a second, thoughts going. You flicked your eyes up to scan across the bottles, then back down at the menu. Did he really... did he get every single thing you needed to be able to make every single drink from both these menus?

“Let’s start with the regular menu though,” Joe removed the Christmas menu from your still frozen hands and then moved an arm across to grab a martini glass. “And why don’t we begin with a dirty martini?”

Oh, this motherfucker.

“Hey– I know how to make one of those,” you took the bait immediately and turned your head to frown at him. He was stood... close. Gave you a mischievous little smirk that got you into all this trouble in the first place.

“I know you do,” Joe said, voice a low baritone that made you remember that you liked Joe a lot, and that you were in his flat and he was all close, and being sweet, and nice, and if you just leant a little closer you could kiss him.

It made you remember that last night when you’d gotten home you thought you’d never get to pretend to go and clean the surface of the bar again just to be closer to him, and now here you were, in his flat, and he was so close, and then he softly said, “I just really fancy one.”

Fuck off.

That made your breath go all wobbly.

Shake it off. Come on. You weren't this easy, were you?

“Well,” you started and had to clear your throat before continuing and placed fingers on the base of the cocktail glass Joe’d placed in front of you. You slid it over to him and finished, “You can make it yourself.”

It broke the tension and made Joe laugh as you started rolling up your sleeves.

Time to get to business, then.

Joe found his way around his island and sat down on one of his breakfast bar stools with his laptop opened in front of him.

And so it began.

Joe googled recipes. Googled how to step by step instructions, found video tutorials, and verbally coached you through making each drink, one step at a time.

Joe taste tested, just little sips, because he couldn’t let his mind get cloudy he said. But his mind got cloudy anyway. And fast too.

You were in his flat.

Mixing drinks. Mixing mai tais, cosmopolitans, old fashioneds, white russians, margaritas, mojitos and manhattans. Right there, in his kitchen.

When was he going to tell you that before you started working there, Joe didn’t go to Hush-Hush that often?

When was he going to tell you that sometimes he walked in and saw you weren’t on shift, he’d leave again?

When was he going to tell you that he doubled his tip on nights when you made mistakes that visibly annoyed Martin?

Would he ever tell you that he liked leaving rings on the bar just so you’d stop by him extra often to wipe it clean?

Probably never.

But maybe he would. Maybe he could get you your job back, and then later he could tell you.

Not now. He didn’t want to ruin what he was looking at.

You were in his kitchen, getting progressively dirtier as you spilled drinks and wiped sticky hands into your hair.

He loved it.

And Joe just got to look.

Pretended he was looking because he had to see what you were doing.

Had to check if you were making mistakes or not. So he could instruct.

It was just that... your face wasn’t what needed checking, was it?

Remember how he said you were lucky you were cute? Well... Joe was sort of lucky you were cute, he thought.

Joe watched you mix drink after drink, watched you turn his kitchen into a whole mess, watched as you tried to clean as you went, but instead clumsily knocked things onto the floor, only creating more mess as you went along.

After a while, after taste testing over half the regular menu, Joe grinned to himself and said, “It’s like I’m actually at The Hush.”

Because this was exactly what Martin would always do.

You grinned to yourself as you finished a vanilla chai tea white russian, one that Joe was already reaching out for, but, that looked so fucking good, you decided to go for a sip yourself.

“Oh, maybe not,” Joe huffed. “I usually get given drinks that no one else has taken a sip from already.”

You didn’t even care about Joe’s comment.

That really was fucking good.

“Holy shit,” you went for another sip, and got a loud, “Hey!” from Joe, whose reaching arm turned into two grabby hands. You easily let him take it from you and said, “That’s maybe the best drink I’ve ever mixed.”

Joe raised the glass to his lips and smelled it first. Then he held eye-contact as he took a small sip.

That small sip turned into a big... a bigger sip. A gulp. He was... oh, he was downing it. Drank the full thing in one go. Kept his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

And...

It was a little unfair that Joe looked sexier holding a drink. Like, he physically looked a lot more attractive when he had a glass pressed to his lips. When he made eye-contact with you as he drank. Especially when it was a drink you’d made. You didn’t know how that worked, it just was what it was, you know?

“Hmm,” Joe said, lips smacking as he put the glass down, now finally looking away. “I don’t know... good, sure. The best? Maybe not.”

You knew what Joe was hinting at, and when you saw him chance a glance at a martini glass, you rolled your eyes.

“If you want a martini, go for it, make your own, no one’s stopping you.”

Joe tried his luck with a sad puppy eye look thrown your way, and he so very nearly got you.

But he didn’t.

There were more drinks to be made. More cocktails to fuck up and fuck up again and then fuck up once more until you got them just right.

The mess in Joe’s kitchen grew.

And Joe got drunker with every taste-testing-sip.

But he was having fun, and so were you. Especially when Joe found a video of someone explaining how to do basic bar tricks and he convinced you to try and learn some, because how wild would it be to impress Martin with some insane bar tricks upon your return?

It had the two of you stood in front of his laptop, swinging glasses, twirling the shaker, throwing ice, and at one point, you were holding onto a bottle whilst trying to follow the steps on screen.

You giggled as you somehow tangled up your arms in the process of trying to get it right.

“No, look, he swings it– you’ve got to hold it like this,” Joe explained, like he was the expert here, and grabbed a bottle for himself to demonstrate. “And then you swing, under the elbow, all around, and then, into the gla–” Joe’s reflexes worked fast as he nearly dropped the bottle, nearly let it slip from his grip, both hands fumbling and catching it just in time, “Ahem, glass.”

“Wow, a true professional,” you sarcastically said, feigned impression that made Joe laugh.

“I promise it’s easy,”

“Hmm, yea, slow learner here, remember?”

“No, look, come here, you’ve got to...” Joe used the excuse of showing you, of helping you master a bottle flip into a pour, to pull you close. To pull you right into him, your back to his chest, his arms around you to manoeuvre yours into place.

With his head right next to yours, Joe spoke softly and kept you there until you got it.

Well, that was the plan.

But then you almost smacked the bottle into his face over your shoulder and he sort of had to abruptly move back to save himself from a black eye.

It had you both in stitches, and you loved the sound of Joe’s laugh.

You were having fun.

You were in Joe’s flat and he got you all this liquor to practice making drinks until you nailed them and you wondered when you were going to tell him that Martin didn’t just fire you because you were a slow learner.

When were you going to tell him that a guest claiming her phone had gotten stolen from her coat pocket made Martin look at the CCTV footage? That Martin had seen what had lead to you leaving the bar the way that you had that night?

It wasn’t just the mess you left, the key you hadn’t left in the letterbox, the loud music you left playing, or even the kissing behind the bar...

It was all of it added up.

All the standing in the way.

All the spilled drinks.

All the kind questions from guests, asking if if was just them or if their drink tasted funny and could it maybe be remade?

It all actively worked against you. And sure, you were cute. But it reached a point where cute wasn’t enough anymore.

Dropping a gorgeous limited edition expensive bottle of Dos Artes tequila had sort of made Martin see red for a second, and that had been it, then.

Martin had pulled you aside and had just listed reason after reason after reason of why keeping you on staff would be a bad idea. A mistake. He mentioned kissing guests behind the bar and you were mortified, went beetroot red, because you had no idea he knew.

Martin knew.

Joe, however, didn’t know. He didn’t know Martin knew.

And Martin hadn’t told him he knew.

Slow learner, Martin had said. You were just a slow learner.

Correct.

You were.

But you were also a cheap slag who had gone and fucked the one true regular of the bar instead of doing her job, weren’t you?

You probably weren’t going to tell Joe.

Or maybe you would. After finishing the Christmas menu, maybe.

But then you saw how Joe’s hands found his lower back, how he pushed his stomach out as he stretched a little, and you gathered that sitting on a barstool all night wasn’t doing his back any favours.

It was getting a little late.

“Why don’t you go and sit down on the sofa, and I will... I’ll just do the last couple of drinks, bring them over and get out of your hair, all right?”

Joe tried to protest, said if you thought he wanted you out of his flat that you were wrong, but you asked if his lower back thought so too, and soon after, Joe gave in and let himself drop onto his sofa on the other side of the open floor plan living space. From where you were stood, you could see the back of his head peek out over the sofa, and Joe tried sitting sideways for a second. Tried leaning into the back of his sofa with his side, but it really did feel nicer to let his back properly sink into the pillows, so he did.

He ended up turning the TV on and watched a little of a celebrity panel show before you came over and handed him a drink.

Joe took a sip, smiled with half-lidded tired eyes and said he loved it.

Made you blush as you took it back to the kitchen.

The same thing happened twice more, and every time you noticed how Joe was growing more and more tired. Was trying harder and harder to keep his eyes open still. Was inching towards sleep.

You watched his head slowly disappear into the sofa and couldn’t help but smile.

Joe was fucking adorable.

And Joe was the fucking best thing that came out of this job you had had for a few months.

And now you had his number and his address and he had yours.

But he was falling asleep. Had enough alcohol in his blood to just let sleep take him, pretty girl in his kitchen or not. You smiled to yourself and couldn’t get rid of it when you started tidying Joe’s kitchen as quietly as you could.

It took a little while. But only because you also decided to make him a dirty martini that you left on the coffee table in front of him.

With the kitchen somewhat tidy and somewhat clean, you grabbed your coat, stood behind the sofa where you carefully took the TV’s remote from Joe’s hands and turned the TV off for him. Couldn’t help bending over and pressing a soft kiss onto the top of his head, into his hair.

You didn’t need your job back.

You’d find a different job.

Plenty of places were looking. It was a busy time of year. Nearly Christmas.

You’d find a different place with a different boss and different things to drop. A different place with a different menu and different regulars that sat at the bar.

It felt kind of bittersweet, this acceptance of this being it as you switched off Joe’s lights and left his flat with butterflies in your stomach.

Sure, alcohol too. But butterflies, mostly.

A shame.

It would probably be a while before you’d see him again.

The next day, Martin called you.

Asked for you to come in for a chat.

You’d smiled to yourself and told him that it was extremely kind of him, that he was a good boss, but if he was going to offer you the job back, you’d decline. You thanked him, told him you’d treasure the experience of working at Hush-Hush for the rest of your life, but he’d been right letting you go. Should’ve let you go much sooner, probably.

Martin seemed confused, but didn’t ask further questions.

You told him to tell Joe thanks from you and said goodbye.

You thought maybe Joe would text you.

You thought maybe he’d even show up at your door, all bewildered, because what the fuck were you doing declining a chat with Martin after you spent an entire evening mixing drinks in his kitchen?

But no texts were received and no doorbells were rung.

Just as well.

It was Christmas and you were starting a new job and you had to put your best foot forward. This wasn’t the time to think of Joe. You’d think of him later, on those weird days between Christmas and New Years, where the whole world forgot what day it even was for a little while.

But Joe didn’t get it.

Martin had put down the phone and had looked at him and then said you didn’t want to meet. Didn’t want to come over. That you thanked Martin and also Joe and that you didn’t want the job back.

Joe thought maybe you’d text him.

Or that maybe you’d show up at his flat to explain.

But then he received no texts and no one showed up at his flat.

Should he text?

No.

It was Christmas.

There were other things to focus on. Like family. Gifts and food and family members he only really ever saw once a year around this time.

After an afternoon of opening gifts, Joe almost felt guilty for his wandering mind. People kept having to repeat themselves because Joe wouldn’t hear them the first time, his mind totally elsewhere.

With you, mostly.

You were probably also with your family, doing similar things.

Were you also thinking of him the whole time?

God.

Should he just text?

Casually wish you a merry Christmas?

Could he do that?

He could, right?

After that night?

After waking up to a lukewarm otherwise perfect dirty martini on his coffee table? One that he threw back before even thinking of breakfast, hair of the dog as his excuse.

Why didn’t you want your job back?

Was it him?

Had he done something wrong?

He couldn’t fucking shake it.

Couldn’t shake it when his mother told him to hurry because they were already running late, they’d miss their reservation if there were any more delays.

Couldn’t shake it when the host of the busy restaurant seated him and his whole family at a long table in the back, beautifully set for the sixteen of them.

Couldn’t shake it when they all got settled and a loud smashing of porcelain plates was heard from the kitchen, deserving a reaction from most tables in the restaurant.

And he grinned.

Reminded him of you.

Fuck it.

He was just going to text you.

Why not?

It was Christmas and he really did hope you were having a merry one.

Joe had his eyes on his phone when a waitress walked up to his family’s table, ready to explain the menu and take their drink orders.

“Good evening everyone, merry Chri–” your breath hitched in your throat when you saw who you were looking at.

Nearly made you cough, which caught his attention.

Joe looked up from his phone and couldn’t fucking believe it.

There you were.

His vision tunneled and his hearing went, because you looked absolutely beautiful, and he was just texting you, had just typed 'merry Christmas' and, there you were, saying the actual words, and God, what were the fucking odds?

You stared at each other a moment and you were unable to stop the corners of your mouth from curling upwards.

“Hi...” Joe mouthed, looking at you like there was no one else in the room, because for a moment, to him, there really wasn’t.

“Merry Christmas,” you finished, gathering yourself together as your eyes scanned his whole table.

It zoned Joe back into reality, and he listened as you explained the menu to his whole family. Listened as you answered a question his stepdad asked you. Sat back and watched you laugh at a stupid joke he made. Saw how you pulled a notepad from a pocket, clicked a pen and asked, “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

You caught how Joe stifled a chuckle. Saw him shake his head like he couldn’t actually believe it. Watched as he raised his eyebrows and grinned, eyes pulling away from the menu to look directly into yours.

Say it, you thought.

Fucking say it.

“I’ll um...” Joe pretended to hesitate. Took a moment to show you his stupid schoolboy smirk.

You realised you’d already started missing it.

Good thing he was here.

“I’ll have a dirty martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[mtchacffinz]

Since you're doing requests could we do Jing Yuan body swapping bodies with the reader and both being enjoying some intense roleplaying and change in power dynamics

prompt! body swap in bed?

content! NSFW, gn! reader, a lot of reckless fucking, power play, roleplaying, established relationship, just pure filth in this one lol, Jing Yuan in your body getting man handled, ��� a lil bit of dacryphilia toward the end

note! KAF HERE OUT OF MY WAY OH YM FOD ANON UR MIND.. ur mind!!!! once i read this i was giggling like a stupid school girl, I'm eating this UPP hopefully i did it some justice.. I'm a little nervous lol

Isn't this nice? The General, way below under you, fucking and playing with your sex like it's his birth right. He seems to be enjoying himself quite a lot, seeing how hard he's trying to take himself in his mouth. Jing Yuan doesn't even seem to take notice, but those little mewls and whimpers he let out of your mouth with your voice unconsciously turn him on more than he initially thought.

This is when Jing Yuan takes notice just how flexible and amazing you are. He can't help but get his already high ego boosted just by looking at his own length. Wow, fuck— he's big. The general cant help but notice the fact that the tip keeps hitting the back of your throat. This is what you put in your mouth? The one where you lull your tongue, fuck and suck on it like you've been deprived? Still, from the way his body was jerking and crying all over the place— Jing Yuan thinks he's doing a pretty good job.

Now that Jing Yuans in your body and he's in yours, you both get to experiment on how you usually turn the tables this way. Jing Yuan never knew he could make those noises before. You were so loud and whiny in his body, groaning and taking in sharp breaths ever so often.. your lovely Jing Yuan can't help but rise back up to your face level and wipe away stray tears, hot breath on his skin.

"Oh, but darling," he coos in your voice. Your sultry lips smirking ever so slightly. "I barely even begun.. are you giving up already, General?"

Your breath hitches at just how mischievous he can get, even in bed.. but fuck the way he calls out to you.. it's just so intoxicating. You let out a low chuckle, heaving a deep sigh. Jing Yuans body's hair was disheveled, and his lips were so swollen from all the kissing he begged for. On top of that, his cock was still riled up for more.

He kisses your lips once more, giving you a smile. Ah, even if he's in your body, you could always tell it would be him just by his smile. Jing Yuan has that certain charm.. that even if he wore a thousand faces, you would never be deceived— and that's a good thing.

But it makes you wonder, how far can you go?

You'd love to see his reactions, his faces— just putting his body in different positions he put you in when he's fucking you silly. As you quickly flip your body with his bodies unrivaled strength on all fours, Jing Yuan catches up to your agenda quickly, and he's not about to disappoint.

It's just that Jing Yuan underestimated how reckless you would be in his body. With his stamina and grip, you fuck into him so senselessly. By the time he already came two times, you're still ramming his veiny cock into your pussy chasing your high. This time he's drooling— eyes rolling to the back of his head as more cute and whiny noises come out of your mouth.

One things for sure is that you both love your respective voices. It's just something about how you vocalize pleasure and how good your making each other feel good so arousing. You're a lot more breathy and hot when you're in his body.

Jing Yuan always knew your body was sensitive to his touch, but never first hand. Now that he's getting a taste of his own medicine, Jing Yuan claws and scratches his own back just to get you to stop pounding in him so much. ♡

Roleplaying as each other was disorienting at first. After all, if you think about it, it's still your body. But, can you really afford to think about that when your significant other is kissing each and every part of yourself? You can't help but gaze at Jing Yuan even for just a moment. It's as if his natural charm is so perfect for your body. The way those slender fingers of hers go down your broad chest to the way he bats your eyelashes.

On his end, he really loves the way you respond to his advances— especially when you try and buck your hips just to give his cock more friction from your hands. His body or not, he loves seeing you squirm just because of him. ♡ Didn't you just overstimulate him a while ago? I think this time, you'll pay a price.

Jing Yuan knows how it could be to be teased and edged until tears. With his dick so angry and swollen, the only thing keeping it pretty is his white, thick precum. He knows how bitter it is, but just to mess with you— he'd drink it all up and refuse to kiss.

"It doesn't taste good, you know?"

You can't help but let out a small tsk. You literally eat him up every chance you get, and he wouldn't kiss you just because he still has traces of his own cum in his mouth?

Jokes on him, you're in his body. You're physically able to come and force a kiss with his body. Ah, such lovely perk. Witnessing him just widen his eyes in shock as you take his lips into yours was so amusing.

Pulling away from his lips, the bitter aftertaste was left on your tongue— connecting a string of saliva. You don't mind. It's him, after all.

"(Y/n), sweet heart.." you'd never thought the day would come where you would be the one seductively calling out to your own name with his voice, in his body. My god, that just brings out the most unhinged parts of Jing Yuan. He felt just how vivid the way his sex throbbed.

"..I need you to cry."

[theambivalentagender]

Hello all! So if you follow me, you likely also follow my comic Valley Echoes as well as any of my other art drabbles. You may also know that I've been financially limping along for some time.

For context, my day job is dog grooming. It's a "career" I came into relatively recently and honestly love. However, my location has recently been incredibly dead. I haven't been able to make commission from lack of dogs and my hours have been cut drastically.

I'm currently looking into finding extra work where I can that will still fit with my technically full time schedule. This has been a big part of why the comic updates have slowed considerably in the last few months.

In the meantime, however, I did want to show that I am available for commissions at this time. This is the first time I'd be getting into commissions, so if folks do request I just ask for patience as I figure it all out, but I'd love to be able to draw your requests. I have a vgen account that's still being set up at the moment.

I also want to plug my Patreon again - honestly, the fact you all give this much for what I do now is incredible to me. I recently met the fun "milestone" of Patreon temporarily locking access to my withdrawals because I had made enough money this year to require filling out a tax form before my funds could be released, which I did. Maybe it's silly but it made me a little happy. I also have a Kofi though that's updated less.

This next part ended up being much longer and more personal than I expected so I'll put it under a cut.

Anything at this time would help immensely. Cost of living is insane, I just turned 30 and keep wondering how much longer I'll be able to keep renting, let alone ever saving to afford a home. I'm very, very lucky in that I have support from my dad, who has honestly been one of my strongest lifelines for years. But I obviously don't want to have to keep taking so much of that support from someone who should be enjoying retirement.

There are a lot of expenses I keep having, and things I'm putting off. The ipad I use for art has been cracked for months, but is still functional thank god. I recently finally bought myself clothes that aren't falling off my body after losing over 100 lbs in the last year. I have to buy and maintain my own tools for my grooming job, and I have to maintain my own health, both mentally and physically. My left hand/arm probably has nerve impingements and muscle strains science hasn't even named yet lmao. And of course there's taking care of my two terrible feline children who cause nothing but chaos in my home and who I love dearly.

Even if you don't give monetary support though, I so, so greatly appreciate every one of you who shares, likes, or comments on my work. I just recently got an anon who I mean to reply to soon gushing about they love Valley Echoes. Nothing makes my day more than waking up to see a million notifications that's just one person liking each of my comics as they read through it the first time.

Ever since I was 6 years old I wanted to be a storyteller in some way. I used to draw my own Dilbert and Far Side comics, and I constantly wrote wild fantasy stories. But after going through college, dealing with a huge amount of stress, burnout, and just one random person online telling me that I needed to hear the harsh "truth" that my writing skills were garbage, that spark was just gone. Excluding occasional stuttering starts, I didn't really write for years.

Doing this "silly" comic and getting the feedback I have is starting to rekindle that spark. I have so many stories of my own that I'm starting to make tentative plans on producing in some way. But even if I never become some official published recognized author, I feel like just putting out this comic is fulfilling that dream I had as a kid. So thank you again, as cheesy and long winded as this post has become.

[i520u]

11:11 𓂅𓏲•₊˚

FOUR. 09:42

WARNINGS. gyuvin almost died but he didn’t he’s silly

First impressions have always been something you were passionate about. As in, you would definitely die on the concrete floor like a dried out frog, mouth foaming with bubbles if you were to mess your first impression up. First impressions are important to you, you already can’t stand with the thought of being perceived, but you can’t stop it from happening. So, the next best thing is to make sure the image they perceive is one that is… impressionable, at least.

That was, until today.

It was mostly your fault, but you needed to be petty and blame it on someone — and that someone happens to be your brother, Hanbin. Of course, Hanbin had woken you up extra early like you asked him to, but Hanbin’s also far too nice to pull something crazy like shut the ceiling fan off, or pull your leg to wake you up. You kinda wished he did, though — because you wouldn’t have been in this situation you were currently in, if he did. Again, not exactly Hanbin’s fault, but you needed somebody to blame.

You were about thirty minutes late to school. It definitely could’ve been worse, but this was your first impression, we’re talking about. It was like the universe was out to get you this morning. You overslept, your uniform hadn’t been ironed, your tie was missing. Of course, you’re aware that these are all the consequences of your own actions, but you really didn’t feel like beating yourself up any more than Gyuvin’s about to do.

As you reached the school compound, you could see a tall figure standing by the school gates. Despite his annoyed face, you couldn’t help but see how handsome he was. And — did he dye his hair? You had to mentally yell at yourself to stay normal and focused on the task at hand; you are Gyuvin’s tour guide, and that’s it. You can not afford to let your weird persona on the internet out.

“Hi.” You greeted, trying to ignore the elephant in the room. Gyuvin tapped his elbow with finger as he waited for you to finally reach him, he raised an eyebrow, and was about to say something snarky for sure. “Did you dye your hair? It looks good.” You say before he could utter anything, in an attempt to ease the tension.

“You’re late.” Gyuvin responded, and that practically confirmed your suspicions that he was furious. In fact, the lack of enthusiasm to his voice made it worse. “I’m sorry. It was my brother’s fault, I promise.” You raised your hand like you were admitting defeat. Gyuvin rolled his eyes, “I don’t care whose fault it was. You’re late and unreliable on your first day on the job.” He said with a smug grin on his face.

You frowned slightly as you began to walk towards the school building, “you don’t have to be so mean,” you murmured. A part of you wondered if Gyuvin was generally always this mean — or if something traumatic happened to him to be closed off forever like an anime backstory — probably the former, maybe he’s just an asshole. You shrugged. You’re used to dealing with assholes. Exhibit A, Sungchan, exhibit B, his best friend Jeonghyeon.

“So the first thing you’ll see when you enter the school is the hallways.” You explained, the hallway was empty since the first period had already commenced. Gyuvin didn’t talk much as you showed him around the first building. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if he was even listening. It annoyed you a little, but you felt like you had no right to feel that way in the first place. As a result, you just ignored the emotions building up inside you.

“This is the art section, if you have any art classes in your schedule, all classes would be located here.” You pointed into a different hallway, and Gyuvin still didn't say anything. You glanced at him for a split second to make sure he was at least looking at the direction I’m pointing towards.

The more the two of you continued walking around, the more awkward it felt for you. You glanced at Gyuvin again, and this time, it made him furrow his eyebrows. You could practically see the gears in his head turning as stared down at you, “what are you looking at?” He finally broke the silence with a frown. “Am I not allowed to look at you?” you find yourself saying something snarky back at him before you could even stop yourself.

That only encourage Gyuvin to banter more with you, though. He definitely had no problem arguing. In fact, it seemed like he was in the mood for it. “It’s rude to stare.” He said with a scowl on his face. “You’re rude.” You answered back. He had a look of amusement on his face, surprisingly. Like he was enjoying the back and forth between you and him. “I wouldn’t be if you were actually on time.”  He said it in such a nonchalant way, but you just know he said it to piss you off, because you couldn't argue back against that.

So, it was back to being silent as you showed him around again, trying to act civil. Gyuvin knew he had won this round, and he had a smug look on his face.

You were soon done with showing him around the north wing of the school, and you contemplated doing something evil. It was like there was a little angel and devil on your shoulders debating with each other to tell you what to do. At the end, though, the devil won. Because you’re not always a good person — and that’s okay.

“Gyuvin, follow me.” You gestured as you turned your heels to walk towards a darker part of the building. Gyuvin followed you unsuspectingly, and you had to force yourself from rubbing your hands together like an evil cartoon character. 

The both of you stopped in front of a large door, it wasn’t locked, but both you and Gyuvin could tell that the place inside was extremely dark. It was a gym pool under construction, so it was naturally off limits for students, but Gyuvin doesn’t know that.

“You should look around inside. All the kids do it, it’s cool.” You told him before taking a few steps back. Your initial plan was to just scare him a little in that dark gym pool. “What about you?” Gyuvin asked, he paused for a beat, “aren’t you gonna come in, too? You scared?” He flashed his signature annoying grin. “It’s dusty inside, I don’t wanna get my uniform dirty.” You answered swiftly.

You had to give yourself a pat on the back. That excuse rolled out of your tongue smoothly. You glanced over your shoulder to see Gyuvin think for a second before shrugging. He allowed himself to walk into the gym pool, and when the door closed behind him, you immediately walked back with the original idea of locking him inside for a good five minutes. Maybe annoy him, make him apologise for being mean, and say ‘please’ before finally letting him out. Well, that was the original plan, anyway.

Although, of course, karma didn’t wait long to hit you. Too bad you’re no Taylor Swift, and karma was definitely not your boyfriend nor a cat purring on your lap. This also goes without saying that it was because of Gyuvin himself, too. Instead of being fazed by the fact that you were about to lock himself in, he had gotten all nosy and distracted by his surroundings. Without thinking much about the repercussions that comes with being nosy, he decided to touch some of the things around. Hell, he didn’t even notice you locking him in.

On the other side of the door, you hear something falling and hit the concrete, followed by a loud thud. You weren’t sure what it was, but you knew it couldn’t be good. Your fingers moved on instinct as you unlocked  and opened the door in a panic, your other hand reaching out for your phone for the flashlight.

You burst into the gym pool, flashed the entire place with your phone’s flashlight just to find Gyuvin laying on the floor, his head slightly bleeding. “Gyuvin!” You shrieked in horror as you ran to him, it’s not really common for you to see a 6’1” tall man lying flat on the floor like a crime scene episode you’d see on Buzzfeed Unsolved. It could not be a good sign either.

“Gyuvin!” You shrieked again, you put his head on your lap, and in hindsight, it was a tad bit dramatic for you to do that. Gyuvin let out a groan in response, from the scene in front of you, you could kinda imagine what had happened — a brick probably fell on Gyuvin’s head. Well, not exactly a brick — but it was something of those sorts. Not too dangerous, but his head was still bleeding.

“I’m calling the ambulance!” You say, your voice a pitch higher from panicking. Your complexion slightly paler, your forehead producing cold sweat, and your fingers trembling as you made your phone call. “Nnn… no…” Gyuvin murmured softly as you laid his head on your lap while you asked for an ambulance. “I’m not dead…” he added, almost scowling.

“Shh!” You scolded, while your free hand went to hold the part of his head that was bleeding as gently as possible. “Your head is bleeding, Gyuvin…” you say sadly, you stared at him apologetically too. “I’ll get you to the hospital, I promise. Just shut up and don’t waste your energy.” You added. It almost made Gyuvin chuckle, if he wasn’t so weirded out by the situation the two of you were currently in. You were so worried, when he wasn’t even badly injured. Sure, his head was throbbing from the open wound, but it wasn’t an internal bleeding or anything like that. It was just a wound on the head.

While yes, Gyuvin was a little weak because he had his head hit by something hard. But also yes to the fact that Gyuvin was annoyed because you were panicking for his well being. Even in such crucial times, Gyuvin managed to be irritated by your presence. He could barely process what you were saying to the telephone operator. The other thing he couldn’t process? The fact that he’s really enjoying being this close with you. He liked laying his head on your lap. In fact, he doesn’t even realise that he liked it. He swears he’s weirded out, but that’s only because he couldn’t exactly process his emotions and gather his thoughts at that time.

All he knew was that he didn’t like it when the paramedics took him from you when they transferred him onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. Although, of course, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t like it. Gyuvin told himself that it was probably just the comfort of being held after taking a literal blow on the head. He still finds you annoying. But would he jump on the opportunity of laying his head on your lap again? Well, yeah.

Everything was so bright inside the ambulance, you were there next to him, his visions were blurry, but he knew you were probably crying and muttering ‘is he gonna die?’ numerous times to the paramedic. He could’ve sworn you looked like snot was dripping from your nose, but he wasn’t entirely sure. It made him chuckle anyway, though.

Your face was the last thing he thought of before surrendering to his tired body. He fell asleep, but you were adamant that he was unconscious. Surprisingly, though, he managed to move his hand just enough for it to brush against yours. The motion was too subtle for either of you to notice it, but that was definitely Gyuvin’s body reacting. Reacting to what, exactly? Who knows.

Do you still hate each other? Maybe. Does your body crave each other’s touches after being close once? Yeah. Are either of you aware? Definitely not.

masterlist | previous | next

SYNOPSIS -͟͟͞☆ gyuvin tells himself that he’ll be okay, and losing friends is a part of growing up. he firmly believes that having to move schools in a different city was the universe telling him to try again. he then meets you, and he hates you. he knows he should be thankful that you saved his life, but every time he sees you, he gets annoyed.

NOTE -͟͟͞☆ this was long overdue and i apologise friends but i’m so glad i finally finished writing this

🏷️ ; @lluvjjun @p-romise9 @daydreamer5006 @gvuyin @jayujus @meoszn @lovefooi @mins-fins @qunwooks @gyuvinfan @annoyingbitch83 @ilovegyuvin @igotkpoops @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @purerehua @xinxinyy @rickysgfundercover @loverb0yz @keita-luv @nonamenonamenon @sunoosluvr @flor206-blog1 @j4dorebooks @rksbae @alwayswook @idkwatodoanymore @livelaughlovelicky @dimplewonie @kdjdh @antwe @andsjun @soobiverse @jiseokzzz @countmekocho @minkkumaz @cowsidfk @softyminhee @raeewe @girlokarina @ihrtjeongin @hanjisbeloved @jiaant11 @ilovechanhee @keilovr @bbangricz @444yizhuo @qnrui @wave2love @iraa567 @backzuhaz @jakahbot @satoreu @doobinnies @yizhuotv @manduhao @onlyhoons @kyanmeai @taereae @beomibeom @pollabug @ilovewonyo @eternallyhyucks @ajybeo

[johnnycakesswitch]

few random hcs i figured i’d share!

Ponyboy grows taller than Darry by maybe 2 inches-he’s always been uber small for his age but by the time he’s 16 he just shoots up in height and is suddenly clumsier than Soda. His appetite also spikes and he gets SO mad because “I just ate why am I hungry again 😡” like bro gets so angry 😭

Darry is actually super good with little kids and babies. He makes faces at babies in the stores to make them laugh and I kinda like to headcanon his second job is a daycare worker or something because he just is super good with little kids and he just loves kids man

Also I saw the one about him having a super contagious laugh and I feel like it’s like that with all three Curtises-it’s not too hard to make Darry laugh surprisingly-if you tell him some dark humor joke he will die laughing-he has South Park humor lol-Soda LOVES dad jokes and puns. I don’t know why but I feel like if you make any sort of pun around him he’s just dying laughing. Pony’s the hardest to make laugh-he probably has teenage boy humor honestly-either that or he likes dry/sarcastic humor. if you manage to make any of them laugh then everyone in the room is laughing

Soda was a thumb sucker as a baby and needed braces as a kid but he pulled it off-he has the most beautiful teeth now though and he gets complimented on his smile a lot

I like to think Mr. Curtis was gigantic, like 6’7’’ and broad like Darry and Mrs. Curtis was pretty tall too-maybe 6’ or so, so all three Curtis brothers end up being pretty tall (Soda is the shortest tho-he doesn’t care tho because his mentality is “my brothers are bigger than me, bigger brothers = more brothers to cuddle” so he’s honestly just happy being the smallest (he’s 5’11’’ or so

Johnny shoots up in height too like Dally was out in the cooler for a few months and he gets out and Johnny is just towering over him like “hey Dal” and Dally’s so angry-

That’s all! No pressure to answer this, just figured i’d share!

Yay hcs!!! Pls always send me some I love yours! I’m gonna talk about them one by one

• I love the idea of Pony getting taller but also clumsier, he doesn’t know what to do with all the extra height now 😭 he totally just walks like a baby deer. And omg Darry and Soda can hardly keep up with his appetite when Pony has a growth spurt

• I love that Darry is good with babies, I can so see him being a daycare worker! I feel like when he was younger maybe Two-Bit’s mom would give him a couple dollars if she could afford it to watch his little sister and he was SO good with her. Even as she grows up she loves Darry bc she spent a lot of time at their house when she was little, I hc her to be decently younger than Two-Bit I don’t remember what I’ve said before but I think I ask I hc her to be like 7 or 8?

• I love that all the brothers have different humor, it’s so silly. Darry having dark humor is part of why he and Dally get along so well, they say the craziest shit to each other you can hear them cackling from rooms away

• I think Soda would be adorable with braces 😭😭 he probably had them kinda young like 12-14ish and he took such good care of his teeth because he wanted a beautiful smile when they came off and that’s exactly what he got 😌

• i definitely think everyone in the Curtis family is tall too- Soda definitely ends up being the smallest but he does love it

• Johnny getting taller than Dally 😭 I can so see him shooting up in height and maybe even bulking up a little and Dally is just like what the FUCK

Thank you for sending these I loved them!!