#sassy's stash

[levemetal]

Retired happy Junmei for no reason at all except let them be happy post-canon that's all.

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

Nurse!Reader x 141 and stickers

How I think the 141 would act if Nurse!Reader gives out stickers to all the soldiers they patch up on base: This is my first headcanon

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish absolutely fucking loves the stickers, like he's lowkey obsessed with getting one. His sketchbook is covered in the stickers you give him and if there's no more room for the stickers that's okay. He'll just buy a new one. Lowkey gets pouty and sassy if you forget to give him a sticker after patching him up.

And we are done. Good as new 

Soap wait's patiently with his hand stuck out 

What are you waiting for Soap?

Fur mah sticker. Obviously

Oh shit. Sorry, I forgot

Whit dae ye mean ye forgot? dae ye nae care aboot me anymair

Grow up you drama Queen

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Is a bit like Soap in a way he loves the stickers. They make him happy in this fuck up world, when he get's his sticker for being a brave boy, as you say, he wears the sticker all day as a badge of honour but if he looses the stickers randomly in the day he gets kinda pouty when he asks for another one 

Can I have another sticker please?

Did you loose yours already?

I didn't mean too! I think Soap stole mine. Pretty please can I have another one

You know the rules. Unless you're injured I'm not giving you a stickers

Cue puppy dog eyes

Goddamit Kyle. Fine, here's your sticker but don't loose it

Captain John Price felt a bit silly at first when you gave him a sticker. He's grown man, he doesn't need a sticker for getting patched up but he very quickly grew to love receiving a sticker off you. He asked if you'd tare the paper the sticker is on, they're easier to save then. He doesn't stick them anywhere but has a small box in his office where he stashes them. For safe keeping.

Why don't you wear the stickers?

Because it ruins them

Ruins them?

Yeah. I like to hold onto them

Do you stick them anywhere?

Nope. I have a small box specifically for the stickers you give me 

Simon 'Ghost' Riley thought the stickers were a stupid idea, he's a grown ass man. Why would he want a sticker for getting patched up? He isn't a child. That's what he tells you but secretly he adores them. He'll moan and grumble as you slap one onto his chest but the moment he's in his room, Ghost will carefully peel it off his shirt and stick it in a scrapbook. Once got a little upset you didn't give him a sticker, he left the infirmary pretending he didn't care but 1 hour later he came back

Why didn't you give me a sticker?

Because you don't like them. You said they were stupid

Well. That's because they are. M'not a child

Then why are you asking why I didn't give you a sticker?

Ghost quietly grumbling and sticking his hand out

Can I just have my sticker please 

[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute (Ch. 3)

Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

summary: You and Logan relax during a particularly hot summer day, engaging in "parallel play" together. An innocent hangout quickly gets heated after he overhears a nsfw Twitter video blaring from your phone. Goddamn auto play. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, oral fixation, praise kink, oral (male!receiving), light d/s, pet names (bub, baby, babe, daddy, good/dirty girl, princess), size kink, slapping (referenced + explicit), cum play. wc: 3.6k

Logan kept his promise. Well, you didn't go on a million more dates, but the time you spent together stretched the meaning of time itself. They started as singular outings; with early nights overlapping into early mornings. It didn't take long until your dates morphed into week-long "hangouts" at his place.

You willingly uprooted your life for Logan after a year of dating, packing your world into cardboard boxes and weaving it into the fabric of his home. The only thing you missed was the in-unit air conditioner that cooled your tiny apartment. It turns out that summers are unbearable when you live in a smelting plant.

The metal walls and poor insulation transform your makeshift studio into a furnace. Oil paint fumes waft upwards from the canvas, aggravating a migraine that slowly travels from the top of your head to your temples. In an attempt to preserve your sanity, you rapidly untie the paint-stained apron and storm out of the studio.

Beads of sweat trickle into your cleavage, gathering at the underwire of your bra. You tear it off somewhere between the kitchen and the living room; you can't be bothered to pick it up from the floor. Maybe Logan will stumble upon it and stash it away, an uncharacteristically pervy habit that he thinks goes unnoticed.

"I'm melting, Logan. Save me!" You slump into the couch, dramatically grazing your forehead with the back of your hand to mimic a damsel in distress. Logan lowers his newspaper to acknowledge your presence. Cigar smoke billows from his mouth; the inky tendrils momentarily fogging his glasses.

"Not much I can do, bub. Fan just died," He explains, tilting his nose towards the archaic floor fan. An annoyed grumble escapes your lips as you move to the end of the couch, relaxing your head against the armrest and stretching out like a starfish. Logan shifts the paper to one hand to lightly caress your ankle.

You stare at the ceiling, mentally conjuring metallic constellations by connecting the bolts and welds. It takes five minutes for you to snap your eyes shut in defeat. Although you normally accept boredom as a challenge—a testament to your imagination, the sweltering heat makes it difficult to think.

Logan quirks his brow, sensing your exhaustion. "You're such a baby. It's barely ninety in here." You shake his palm off your leg and draw your knees toward your stomach, creating a makeshift boundary against his feigned judgment. "Barely ninety? Don't piss me off," You laugh, reaching for your phone on the coffee table.

Parallel play is new to Logan. He tends to isolate himself, preferring to spend his leisure time alone. When you introduced the concept to him, he dismissed you with an eye roll that bordered on sassy instead of annoyed. "You getting this from your Tick-Tock-whatever the fuck?"

"Let's be alone together," You reasoned. He’s enjoyed these moments of domesticity ever since.

Your index finger lingers above the touchscreen, debating which app will distract you from the heat. The comforting feeling of Logan's hand returning to your ankle inspires you to open Twitter. Your body is slowly relaxing and you want your brain to follow suit.

Logan cherishes your laugh as you stumble upon a hilarious tweet. You scroll further, settling on a video that displays a pitch-black screen. Assuming it was an edit, you wait for a transition to reveal a montage from a show you liked, or an incredibly depressing edit of Kendall Roy. Those always seemed to invade your TikTok for-you page around 3 am.

Your jaw drops when it fades into the unmistakable sight of an amateur porn video. It depicts a woman on her knees, presumably filmed by her partner. The man slaps his cock on her tongue before slowly inching the tip into her eager mouth. "That's a good girl, drool on my cock," the faceless man praises.

The video had been relatively silent until that moment.

Nothing could have prepared you for the high-pitched moan that traveled from the girl's throat and out of your phone's speaker. You were ambushed. Logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, pointedly refusing to react to the noise. "I'm reading the paper, and you're watching porn?"

"I didn't click on it, I scrolled, I—" you threw your phone onto the couch, crossing your arms over your eyes to shield your flustered cheeks. "—Ugh! whatever." Your embarrassment provides Logan ample time to grab your phone as he quickly unlocks it and scrolls back to the source of the moan.

Auto-play resumes, suddenly filling the room with the sound of more slapping. "Please give it to me, Daddy! Promise I'll be good for you," the woman pleads in an exaggerated falsetto. Logan shoves the phone in front of your face, forcing you to acknowledge the video.

"You into this shit?" He asks, invading your mortified posture to push your arms away from your face. His knee slots in between your stretched legs, effectively caging you in. "I asked you a fuckin' question." His gruff tone would have scared you if it wasn’t accompanied by the slight upward curve of his mouth.

Logan's cock throbs as his eyes linger on your gaping mouth. You were reacting appropriately, dropping your jaw in shock. All Logan could think about was how your plush lips formed a perfect "o," similar to the woman on the screen.

"I plead the fifth," You huff, narrowing your eyes and reaching out to pause the video. Logan clicks his tongue while mocking you, shaking his head side-to-side. "It's in your feed. Doesn't that mean you are into this shit?"

Fuck. You regretted explaining social media algorithms to Logan. It was an act of charity, showing an old man how to use the "interwebs," as he first called it. He'd still have a flip phone if you didn't explain why only drug dealers and Y2K-obsessed tweens used them.

You push Logan's knee forward, making him momentarily lose his balance. He falls on top of you, the full weight of his adamantium-plated bones pressing you firmly into the couch. Logan's heart drops in his chest as he sees you shut your eyes in pain. "Oh my god, I-" He uses his elbow to twist away from your chest, landing on the floor with a comically loud thunk.

He groans with the force of the fall and immediately regrets landing on his back. The scarred planes had already been traumatized by decades of recklessness, but his old age further weakened their tenacity.

"I'm sorry, babe. You okay?" He slowly rises to his feet, grimacing when he hears his joints creak under the weight. Logan uses the edge of the coffee table to stand up fully. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," You squeak, unable to meet his worried stare. When he fell on your chest, you could feel his bulge through the thin cotton boxers.

Two can play that game.

You fail to stifle a giggle as Logan waves his hand in a sweeping motion in front of your face. "You sure I didn't hurt you? Seems like you're in shock," He asks, genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"You're hard," You state, fixated on the prominent tent in his boxers. Logan is a cocky motherfucker; he rests his hands on his hips and slightly leans backward, emphasizing the bulge.

"Yeah? So what? I’m always hard when you wear those shorts. Makes me feel like a fuckin’ teenager." He smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of your flustered face. His nostrils subtly flex and you can tell he smells how wet you are for him. It's simultaneously embarrassing and empowering unraveling for Logan—you feel so timid under the heavy weight of his gaze, yet so brazenly sensual.

“Know what I think?” You drawl, shifting from your position on the couch to stand before Logan. His broad frame would be intimidating if he weren’t so gentle with you. Only you. Sunset filters through the lace curtains you installed last summer to soften the hostile industrial space. Soft, indeed. The living room is swathed in an amber glow, and so is Logan’s face. The light tenderly traces each wrinkle and scar—decorations gifted by the tedious passing of time. Your calves burn as you rise on your toes, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

You grasp his strong shoulders to stabilize yourself before whispering, “I think you’re secretly into this, too.” Logan turns his head away from you, closing his eyes to conceal how much your words affect him. He’s confused when he feels you rake your palms against his chest, only opening his eyes when your hand catches on the waistband of his boxers.

Logan’s a man of few words. Your unabashed look of adoration combined with your position on the floor stole any he could use to disagree.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? Cat got your tongue?” You lean forward, tenderly nuzzling your cheek against his leg. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbles, tentatively reaching down to pet the top of your head. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Don’t call me that.” The gravel of his voice triggers a dull throbbing in your core. It was easy to unravel for him because he never demanded your submission. He earned it by respecting your mind and body, nurturing it like a fragile orchid that could wither if handled without care. 

You strain your neck to peer into his eyes. He tugs on your roots before tenderly tracing your bottom lip—a silent betrayal of his plea. “Why, you don’t like it? I’ll stop if you don’t,” You reason, allowing him to admire your plush lips. A ragged groan escapes him as he watches you suck his callused thumb into your hot mouth before releasing it with an audible pop.

“It’s not that, I just—” His words die in his throat as you pull the hem of his boxers down, tugging the elastic until you can feel his hard cock bob on your face. You gently stroke his length before pressing your cheek against it, smiling against his warmth. “I don’t wanna ruin you any more than I already have,” He chokes. The doubt written on Logan’s face kills you. You’re suddenly on your feet again and Logan’s cock can’t help but twitch at the absence of your hot breath. 

“Stop it. I hate when you say shit like that.” Logan resists the urge to clench his eyes shut. He hates it when you look at him like he’s a puzzle you’re eager to solve. “All you’ve done is give me everything I’ve ever wanted,” You sigh, reaching on your toes to burrow your head into the crook of his neck. 

Logan wallowed in self-deprecation like it was his job. The age gap between you both was a recurring theme of past arguments. He often distanced himself whenever you begged to ride him, gazing sympathetically into his eyes as you felt his thrusts falter. 

You cherished it.

He could be bandaging your knee after a bad fall in the studio and then spanking your ass until it matched the deep purple and red hues mixed on your palette. The duality drove you crazy. Logan knew exactly when to nurture you and when to fulfill your desire to be taken, worn down; he masterfully chipped away at the facade of your resolve until you were pliant in his rough embrace.

“Besides, ‘Daddy’s just a term of endearment. Same as baby, doll . . . my girl.” You whisper, teasingly nipping his earlobe. “I love being your girl.”

Logan’s hesitation breaks at that, planting a chaste kiss on your neck and inhaling the comforting scent of your hair. You smelled like home.

“Can you get on your knees for me, baby?”

The subtle command ignites a tender ache in your bones—you’re suddenly slinking down his form and bracing against the cool concrete. This must be how people felt when the first skyscraper was built. The towering mass of his body is deliciously intimidating; you’re at his feet, worshipping the foundation of an idol that refuses to be honored.

His hips jut forward as you teasingly lick the head of his cock in short, cat-like strokes. You indulge in his flesh, roaming the hard planes of his thighs and caressing the black tendrils around the base. Something in Logan breaks when you pause to gently kiss the tip while peering up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

“Give me your phone,” He commands. You were too embarrassed to admit how much you craved this side of him. Your back strains with your sudden movement to reach behind you, knocking little knick-knacks on the coffee table as you fumble for the phone. 

Logan’s cock twitches as you hurriedly unlock it before presenting it to him like a pup offering its owner a bone. “I, uh—” His voice hitches when you place your hands on your thighs; your arched back pushing the swell of your breasts against his legs. “I need you to open the camera app for me.”

A teasing smirk overpowers your once coy visage. “Sure thing, Daddy.” You strain to reach the phone, quickly swiping to find the cute camera icon. He’s purposefully not bridging the distance. 

He’s making you work for it.

Logan reverses the camera before angling it in front of your face. “Repeat what she said.” His hooded eyes follow your dumbfounded expression, lingering on the inviting expanse of your lips. You stutter as Logan’s thumb traces dizzying patterns on your open mouth, dipping in quickly to collect your spit.

“Pl- please give it to me, Daddy . . . promise I'll be good for you,” You drawl, satisfied now that you could feel Logan in your mouth. Your face is inches away from his hard cock and you can’t help but admire how fucking pretty he is. When he’s worked up like this, his cock resembles an enticing red lollipop, shiny with the glaze of your spit. The line between your internal thoughts and external babbles blurs as you murmur, “Wanna suck you off so badly. Need to taste you.” 

“What was that, bub?” He props up your chin with his finger, helping you focus on his hazel eyes. He shifts the phone into his left hand before firmly grabbing the base of his cock with his right to lightly slap your cheek. “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” He growls, snapping you out of your horny reverie.

Your voice is meek and airy, a familiar sign that you’re falling further into a comfortable haze. There were no labels to describe your relationship, but you both fostered a nurturing pattern of dominance and submission—often smudging the lines whenever necessary. At this moment, all you wanted was to surrender to him.

“I need to suck your cock, Daddy.” You smirk as it bobs almost subconsciously, leaving dribbles of precum on your cheek.

“Good girl. Fuck.” The praise lures a wanton moan out of your throat that sends pleasant vibrations throughout Logan’s body. You slowly inch the tip in, eagerly spreading his precum around the head with your tongue. Heavy, thick, and wet. So unbelievably wet.

Logan’s stifled growls encourage you to grasp the heft of his cock with both hands. You often joked that jerking him off would give you arthritis in your right hand; the stamina needed to twist up and down his length utterly exhausted you.

His eyebrows knit together in pleasure, a silent love letter to your unabashed yearning to soothe him—in mind, body, and spirit. You adore Logan like this, all bark and no bite. 

“So fuckin’ needy, hm?” You peer up at him through your lashes, focusing on the subtle twitch of his nostrils. “Just the tip and you’re already a mess,” He chuckles. Although you’ve enjoyed each other’s company for a few years, a warm blush always manages to reveal how flustered you get whenever Logan smells your arousal. The strained moans that tumble out of his throat ignite a dull throbbing sensation in your core.

Logan opens his eyes when he realizes your hands have left his cock, eager to scold you (lovingly, of course.) He thrusts into your mouth as he’s greeted by the sight of you desperately toying with your clit, pausing here and there to slap against the sensitive bud. 

You can barely think. Pleasure transforms into a tangible gift, tied off with a voluminous red bow. The pressure to open the box is removed—you’re content with admiring the details of its exterior, swirling your fingers on the silky textile and getting lost in the feeling.

“Ah—Logan! I’m gonna— fuck, I���” You stutter, unable to string together words into a sensible arrangement. Logan slowly thrusts deeper into your hot mouth, reuniting your nose with the coarse hair around the base.

He pulls back slightly when you gag around him. Your pussy flutters as you feel his cock harden at the involuntary sound, somehow stretching your mouth even more. “I know, baby,” Logan sighs, gently wiping away your tears. “Shhh . . . you can take it.”

Every time your mouth swallows his entire length, you dart your tongue out to playfully coat his heavy balls with spit. You’re acting like a bitch in heat—as if the thought of living without the taste of Logan’s cock would be futile. Realistically, you knew that the masculine salt of him on your tongue served as a reminder of his tangible presence in your life, a presence that was meaningful, nurturing, and everlasting.

“That’s a good girl. Drool on Daddy’s cock,” Logan praises, adapting the line from the video.

Your release is sudden and impactful. The shaky tone of your cries corresponds with the shakiness of Logan’s hand. His knuckles turn white as he struggles to hold the phone upright.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mmmm!—” You moan, muffled by the delicious drag of Logan’s cock. “Ah—I’m coming, fuck . . .” Your swollen clit pulses as your thighs cave inwards, pushing you even closer to the hilt.

He comes immediately following your orgasm, finding your fucked-out expression unbelievably attractive and haunting. Thick ropes of cum flood your mouth and you can feel his cock twitch when your eyes meet. A rough cacophony of moans and grunts breaks free from Logan’s chest.

You look utterly ruined. Swollen lips still stretching around his girth, tears etched onto the flustered apples of your cheeks. “As beautiful as you look right now, I need to pull out, baby.”

You’re desperately trying to taste more cum from his weeping slit, but Logan manages to push away from you with a dramatic hiss. His jaw falls when he watches you emphasize the act of swallowing his cum.

“My dirty girl,” He drawls, pleased when you stick out your tongue as proof. You want the echo of Logan’s thick cock slapping onto your tongue to be ingrained in your mind. It doesn’t take long for him to explode again. You help him along, breathlessly stroking the plush stiffness of his cock and looking up at him with sinfully soulful eyes.

The first streak lands on your lips. Logan’s head rolls back as he mindlessly ruts forward, painting your entire face with hot cum.

He returns to earth when you press chaste licks to the tip once again. “Holy shit, there’s so much cum, I’m sorry—” Logan apologizes, stunned by the masterpiece he’s created. His release drips down the sloping facade of your cheekbones before landing on your cheeks and lips. You quickly dart out your tongue to taste him.

“Don’t be, Daddy. Can you give me some more?” You plead, batting your eyelashes. Logan pauses the recording and  tosses the phone onto the couch. Before you can process why, you hear a loud thunk on the concrete.

Logan kneels in front of you to match your position on the floor. He reaches out to brush your hair away from your face, studying the white marks adorning your skin.

“You’re so pretty with my cum on your face,” He sighs. Your eyes widen when he reaches down, dragging two thick fingers through your sensitive folds. Then, he swipes the same fingers through his cum before bringing them to his lips and sucking gently.

He closes his eyes, truly indulging in the delicacy of your love. “Mmm. We taste so good together, baby. Wanna try?” You nod earnestly, biting your lip to dampen your whimpers. Logan repeats the process, in awe of the way you lean into his touch.

Logan doesn’t register that you’re falling until he’s sprawled out on the cool concrete floor with your tits cushioned against his chest. He’s quick to check on you, stunned by the sudden movement.

“You okay, princess? What happened?” Worry is framed by the wrinkles between his brows.

“Mhm, Logan. Daddy. We do taste good together,” You confirm, feeling pleasantly overwhelmed yet supported against the solid foundation of his body.

Logan kisses you sweetly, wrapping his broad arms around you to stabilize your torso. “It’s a lot cooler on the floor, baby. Gotta clean you up, I’ll be right back.” You whine as he gently rolls over to lay you on the floor before walking towards the kitchen.

After picking up a nearby towel and wetting it under the faucet, Logan almost slips on something on his way back to the living room.

The familiar heart pattern of the bra makes the corners of his mouth turn upwards; it’s satisfying knowing that you left these out for him rather than randomly forgetting a thong here and a lacey bralette there. You were deliberately feeding into his desires and he loved you for it.

You both played the game of life together, and Logan wouldn’t want it any other way.

an: I heard it's someone's bday today . . . I hope they never read this but consider Meet Cute Ch. 3 my gift to all of you. Thanks for being so patient, I know it's been a while. FYI I imagine the character whenever I'm writing, not the actor. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

[123puppy]

What if when Alastor was still alive, killing his victims and hiding them in the woods, Lucifer mistakes them for offerings and became infatuated with him?

This cute, sassy guy gifting him bodies is endearing so one day Al is stashing a body and gets greeted by hellfire as Lucifer appears all demonic, sly grin

And Alastor blinks, just looks at him... and drags the body with him, like Lucifer isn't there

Uh

Rude!

Keeping his composure, Lucifer follows the serial cutie-KILLER, ahem, and when Alastor drops it in a convenient spot, he's scooped up in Lucifer's arms as the devil took that opportunity to hold him close-

and be greeted with a large knife that's held like it was about to surgically remove his eye

"Let. Go."

Lucifer does, hands raises in surrender, but the lightly yellow dust covering his cheeks and loving gaze on the lanky man says none of this is striking fear in the devil himself

Before Alastor can turn away from him, Lucifer flicks his wrist and conjures up a red rose. That seems to generate genuine intrigue, his grin small and less crazed

He seems to remember something and as quick as lightning, the knife embeds itself in the rose and 'thunks' against the tree trunk where Alastor threw it with accuracy

"As a pleasure it is to be meeting you, quite a pleasure, I am not so stupid to make nice with the devil." Alastor leaves, swallowed by the shadows of the trees

Lucifer is stunned, but his heart is soaring, wings bursting from behind his back

"God..." He whispers

[queenendless]

💗Safe Haven (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)💗

A/n: ... I legit had no clue what to write. So it's gonna be short. Sorry. God this JJK burnout is getting worse!

Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, and these two are enemies on opposites sides but in reality are secret lovers (though it ain't a secret to those who truly know them) with you as their third. And like reader-chan, I need comfort right now.

PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE, TRANSLATE, COPY, REPOST AND ETC MY FAN CONTENT. Reblog, like, and follow instead thnx u.

The front door of the apartment unlocked, swinging open as that familiar boisterous voice boomed out. “Sweetheart~! Your Toru is here~!” The door slide closed as Satoru Gojo took off his black dress boots to leave by your welcome mat.

His socked, heavy footsteps sounded getting closer in just a few strides. “Did ya miss me? Cause I sure missed — !”

The sounds of glass shattering followed by the loud thump of something falling made him run, honed in on your cursed energy. Finding you crumbled up on the glass shard covered floor of the living room.

“Y/n!?” Using the barest traces of cursed energy in his finger to collect the shards only to erode them into cursed nothingness, he could safely tend to you. “Hold on. I got you.”

Only when he slowly helped you roll around to sit up on your butt did he see crimson dripping down your hand from the cut open wound on your wrist.

“Fuck.” He muttered before speaking out loud. “I don't see any glass in there. Still,” He pulled off his blindfold to bind it tight enough to put enough pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Toru, your blindfold!”

“I have plenty of backups stashed back at my place. And here, of course. Besides, this is just temporary.” His updo now freed to let his hair down hang over those radiant eyes that bore anxious concern for you as well as the utmost confidence, pulling your uninjured hand up gently as his other arm wrapped around your waist to get you on your feet.

“Not to worry, my dearest angel. Your valiant lover will get you all patched up in no time.”

The sliding open of the rolling door leading to the balcony grabbed your attention.

Then again, you both felt that familiar cursed presence coming a mile away.

“Well now,” Seeing the manta ray returning to his own shadow, Suguru Geto hummed deeply. “What have we here?” He took off his zōri sandals to place by the open doorway. “Satoru, you're no healing nurse like Shoko is, ya know.”

“For your information, Suguru,” the sassy hurt in Gojo's voice betrayed the grin that was there. “I happen to be a wonderful nurse!”

Geto cheekily pointed out. “Then you have a small bloody puddle to wipe up, nurse-sama~”

Satoru groaned a bit. “Hang on. I can't be expected to do all the work.”

“My blood, my mess to clean up.” You meekly pointed out.

Satoru gently lifted you up by the waist just to plop you on the couch, clicking his tongue and wagging his finger at you. “Sorry love, but you look exhausted. No wonder you collapsed earlier and got yourself hurt. Now you need to take it easy.”

Suguru sighed deeply. “Very well. I'll help my dear Satoru out if it'll make him happy.”

Both men hummed as Gojo leaned over to smooch Geto for several drawn out moments to fill that mouth with its usual sweet taste. “Thank you~” Gojo beamed before stalking off to the bathroom where you kept the first aid kit under the sink.

Seeing a decent sized, withered red leaved Jubokko tree become sentient with blinking eyes creep out of Suguru's shadow made your curl away from it. “Sorry dearest, but it'll help clean up the mess much faster.” Suguru assured, despite cringing as its hole of a mouth sucked up every trace of blood on that floor, hissing as its root hands reached out for your bloody clothed wrist only to be sucked back into Suguru's shadow again.

“Wretched leech.” He griped, his white tabi socked feet padded over to you.

You flushed pink at the sight of Suguru undoing his gold-colored kāṣāya garment to drape over the couch as he rolled up his black yukata robe sleeves.

“Choosing to leave the sorcerer life is one thing … but living among these … monkeys. Honestly honey, I'd prefer you live with me and the girls … though with everything that's been transpiring lately …” He sat down and gingerly took your wrapped wrist, smiling faintly recognizing Gojo's blindfold even if bloodstained. “I can see why living away from all that chaos does seem safer.”

“I have returned!” Satoru slid in, holding the kit above his head like it was the newborn heir of the Pride Lands. “So, since I got here first and all, I figured you are up to playing nurse this time?”

“Fine by me. But best we clean it in the bathroom.” Geto recommended.

Gojo drooped, whining. “Back the way I came then. Jeez, could've told me that earlier?”

Geto scoffed. “Oh hush you.”

The cold tap water of your bathroom sink ran as the blindfold was unbound, plopping into the sink, crimson draining away as you kept your wrist under the running faucet.

“Fortunately, the cut isn't that deep so no stitching is needed. Still, I suggest you focus your attention elsewhere to make it seem less painful in your mind's eye, love.” Suguru cautioned as he doused a spare soft clothed rag on the countertop with your mild hand soap before letting it get wet enough.

“You can start by explaining why you're so pooped out?” Hugging you from behind meant you could lean on Satoru's sturdy body as your fatigue was coming back in.

“Insomnia.” You whined a bit as he lifted you up again just to plop you on the counter. “Depression. Lonesomeness – Figured it out now?” Your griping did unnerve them.

Your sniffling meant tears blurred your vision, looking away to face the wall and not them. Satoru weaved his hand through your hair, pulling your head to flush your weeping face in between his plush pecs as Suguru began dabbing and cleaning around the cut.

“I mean, work stress for one cause of course there is. Living here by myself for two. And seeing cursed spirits flock around here, harmless ones at that, still makes me anxious if things will escalate to full blown shit.” You felt yourself laxing as Gojo brushed your hair as well as your arm to reassure you that you weren't alone now. “I'm always gonna be worried for the day when you two don't come back … or for when you do return … but I'll be dead or worse.” The sting in your wrist was outweighed by the ache in your cracked heart.

Shadows covered both their faces, letting you speak.

“I know you both went through hell after Riko-chan … and Haibara-kun … and I thought leaving with Nanami-san would mean I find some semblance of peace and try to live as normally as I could.”

Gauze bandages gingerly covered your wrist as Geto's nimble hands got to work.

“Even so, I thought keeping in touch would be better than nothing … despite the risks … I needed to hear your voices again. See your smiles again. I'm sorry. I – !”

Tenderly holding your cheeks to have you look up at him, you became breathless as Gojo kissed you openly, his tongue brushing yours, capturing your sobs, brushing your streaking tears with those calloused thumbs of his.

“Never apologize for your big beautiful heart, you breathtaking angel.” Satoru heaved heavily, hot pants painting your trembling lips as various emotions swept through those big blue eyes.

Your chin was firmly grasped as your face turned to make way for Geto's lips as his thick neck flexed on how much he wanted to swallow your taste to drown out the horridness that is the taste of cursed spirits.

“How did two damaged beasts such as ourselves get to be blessed with the most endearing creature our eyes have ever laid upon?” Suguru whispered, devotion vivacious in his gaze.

Choked whimpers and shaky gasps leave your lips, submerged in their kisses of unified warmth.

“You were with me at my lowest point when I needed someone to hear me the most.”

“You knocked some sense into my dense noggin and dragged me back just so me and Suguru would hash things out.”

“Even prideful maniacs need to hash things out.” You yawned as Gojo carried you bridal style while Geto hurried packing the first aid kit away.

“I'm sorry we haven't made enough time for you, angel. I'm the biggest packing tank for handling the shittest messes those elders can throw at me. Doesn't beat seeing you though.” Satoru purred the last line as he flicked his pinkie finger to get your door to open. You giggled as he fell atop you on the bed, snatching Suguru's wrist as he just came in after. “Both of you~!”

Suguru's exasperated sigh was betrayed by his wistful grin as he smooched the smirk stretching on Satoru's face.

The sky went from cloudy and blue to the warm colors of the sunset.

Giant sculpted fingers traced your face. From your lashes to your nose. Brushing your forehead, your cheeks, then finally your breathing lips. Lost in deep sleep, Suguru watched in wonder at how serene you appeared.

Stripping off that black zip-up work jacket of his to drape over the dresser, Satoru laid down beside you, brushing your hair leisurely.

“So … what happens now?” Suguru murmured.

“Well,” Satoru hummed, raising a finger. “Option one: we keep going as things have been but that will still leave our little lamb all by her lonesome while we're swept up in the war of our ideals.”

“Option two: we both come clean about our secret but be labeled and hunted as partners in crime.” Suguru continued, raising his own finger.

“Or … there's always option three.” Oh Satoru the ominous.

“Which is?” Suguru was hesitant to ask.

“We three elope, you two and the girls can move into my place, we get two cats that look like us and we name them Catoru and Cuguru~!”

. . .

Suguru laughed under his breath. “You're such a doofus.”

“Well this doofus is all for you two to deal with til the end of our days.” Gojo drowsily put as he ruffled Geto's already tousled hair; his bun coming undone.

“Best to ask Y/n about it after she finally gets some good rest, first.” Geto kissed the wrist of Gojo's hand cupping his cheek; Gojo thumbed his earring filled, large earlobe.

“Hai Hai,” Pulling the younger man close enough, Satoru blissfully, deeply, lip lock danced with his best friend, partner in infamy, and one and only.

Well, one of two.

Heated panting hitting each other's faces, blue looked down, to which black followed.

Finally at ease, able to sleep with their distinctive scents and comfy warmth enveloping you.

For the first time in a while — what felt like forever to you actually — you were at peace.

Feeling velvety wet sweetness kissing you followed by another pair immediately after had you humming for more, to which brought you slightly out of sleep at how much they peppered your entire face with their loving kisses.

Sunset turned to night as their own exhaustion caught up to them both, spooning you from both sides, legs intertwined, snores filling the room, as three bundled into one among rustled sheets and strewn about pillows.

Your bandaged wrist brushed their bare wrists as their hands held yours.

Intertwined.

In hand.

And in life.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Easy Company HC's: Letters Home

A/n: I'm really rolling with these BofB headcanons! hope you enjoy :)

Characters included: Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Ronald Speirs, Carwood Lipton, Buck Compton, David Webster, Joe Liebgott

Dick Winters

Writes frequent, short letters

Meticulously dates his letters and includes a blurb about the weather. January 12th, 1945. It’s snowing outside, dark and cold. 

Starts each letter with My dear y/n 

Always asks how you are, even though he’s the one fighting a damn war

Follows up on every little question or story you include in your letters. How was the bake sale? Did you ever hear how Louise Graham’s brother is doing after taking that shrapnel to the shoulder? Hope you were able to get someone out to look at the washing machine.

Ends his letters with classic but sentimental sign-offs, like Affectionately yours and All my love

Makes sure not to include anything in his letters that would worry you. Doesn’t necessarily lie or fake being happy, but just gently side steps that. 

Although every once in a while you get a longer letter where Dick’s handwriting is a little messier. You know it’s from writing fast, you can almost feel the pressure behind the penmarks. He opens up more in those letters, talks about losing too many good men and sometimes will say things that just absolutely break your heart, like sometimes I wonder how all of this is really going to end for the men who are over here fighting. 

Even in these letters, Dick never says “I” or “Me”, always writes about the men and the boys. You know - and so does he - that he’s including himself in those boys.

His next letter he always makes sure to reassure you. And it’s genuine, you can tell. He’ll say something like I have to put some of these heavier thoughts somewhere, and there’s nowhere I trust more than with you. 

When he comes home, you find a stack of letters you wrote to him tied up in a neat bundle and stashed in an inside pocket of his Ike jacket that he sewed in especially for that purpose. You could tell by the flimsy, near-ripped creases and dirty paper that he’d read each one about a hundred times over. Buried in the middle of the stack was the picture you’d given him before he’d left for training. On the back, he’d written simply your name, the date the photo was taken, and a short instruction: in event of my death, please send all personal effects to with your home address. It made you sob but you never told him you found it.

GIF by mads-weasley

Lewis Nixon

Rarely writes. Actually drives you crazy with worry most of the time.

When he finally does, you can tell that he’s initially annoyed at having to put his thoughts down on paper. Letters start off with short, sarcastic sentences like nothing new here. Still fighting the war, in case you hadn’t heard. Enjoying German hospitality. 

But as the letters go on he relaxes into it and stops being so grouchy. 

Because he’s always grumpy at having to write (you should probably thank Dick for cajoling Lew into actually sitting down to write to you), he usually doesn’t write any sort of introduction or sweet address, just dives right into it.

His letters usually don’t say much, he just kind of rambles about how much he hates being away from you and how he can’t wait for the whole damn thing to be over. 

Sometimes he’ll write something so incredibly romantic it takes your breath away, like I’d fight a whole division of Panzers myself if I could just get one more sniff of your perfume. 

Those are the letters you save and reread to yourself over and over again when you’re waiting weeks for the next one.

Always signs off with something kind of sassy but also sweet?, like You know I love you or Keep our bed warm for me. 

Sometimes you feel like you can smell whiskey on the paper, which both worries you but also reminds you of Lew

When he finally gets home and you ask him about what he did with your letters, he kind of looks at you like you’ve gone crazy and says I read them of course, what else was I supposed to do with them? 

This hurts your feelings at first which of course he doesn’t understand, but after a few weeks you start to realize that he actually did read them and not only that he memorized their contents. Like he refers to your mother as “the Wicked Witch of Wichita” (something you called here after you wrote him a long rambling letter about how angry she made you at your sister’s bridal shower) and buys you a bouquet of daffodils because you wrote him a letter with a daffodil doodle in the margins of the page talking about the spring gardens. 

You realize that Lew shows his love in the little details, and it makes you appreciate him all the more.

GIF by beautifulguycollector

Ronald Speirs

Ron’s letters read like military bulletins. 

Doing well despite the cold. 1st sgt sick with pneumonia. Think of you often.

Writes predictably once per week. Never misses a letter. Ever. 

You always write him long, lengthy, romantic letters. Sometimes even a little raunchy, if you’ve had some wine. After one particularly *ahem* suggestive letter, you feel ridiculous and say so the next time you write.

In typical Ron fashion, you get a short, to-the-point reply, but it still puts a smile on your face and a blush on your cheeks: Loved your letter. Keep writing. 

Towards the end of the war, Ron starts a countdown to when he expects to be coming home. Two months now, maybe less. Home for the Fourth of July. 

Also signs off with R.S. Which makes you laugh, as if you could forget who was writing to you.

Whenever your girlfriends find a letter from Ron (you keep them all in a shoebox in your closet), they tease you and ask how you can possibly be in love with someone so stiff and formal. To which you can only chuckle to yourself, because you know it’s just that they don’t understand that Ron doesn’t tell you he loves you, he shows you. Writing a letter every single week. Updating you on everything going on, even short updates, because he wants you to know how he’s doing. That’s Ronald Speirs’ love language.

Maybe three weeks before Ron comes home, you start getting boxes of (stolen?) German silver at your door. At first it freaks you out and makes you feel slimy for having lavish riches from an enemy country, so you don’t unpack the boxes and you just stack them up in the back bedroom. When Ron gets home and sees the boxes unopened and shut away, he immediately asks you what’s wrong. You stammer out an explanation and without blinking an eye, Ron loads them into his truck and takes them to the dump. 

(Later you convince him that a better use of those would be to donate them to the local orphanage, so off he goes in his truck to get the boxes back out of the dump and bring them to shelter.)

One night when you’re lying awake, head on Ron’s chest, talking idly about things that don’t matter, he interrupts you to ask Can you guess which letter I kept? 

You instantly blush, thinking of that risque letter you wrote him when you were halfway through your second bottle of white wine. He shakes his head and pulls a letter out of his nightstand and hands it to you. You don’t recognize it immediately, although you do see that it’s too short to be one of the naughtier correspondences. 

It’s too dark to read, so you ask him which letter. He says it’s the one you wrote to me for my birthday. 

You don’t remember that one and you tell him as much, so you ask him why he kept that one instead of some of the others. He looks down at you with a serious look in his eyes, a little surprised that you can’t figure it out. Then he tells you: it’s the first time you wrote that you loved me. 

The next day, you sneak a peek at the letter and realize he’s right. You signed it, I love you Ron. 

From then on, you make sure to tell him that every night before he falls asleep.

Carwood Lipton

Formal, sweet letters. This man is a king of romancing by words.

Writes as often as he can, but you know that Lip needs peace and quiet for an entire evening to get one of those letters done (he probably definitely writes a draft or two before he gets it right). And let’s face it, Easy Company doesn’t have the luxury of many quiet evenings. 

Always, always, always starts his letters off with Dear (future) Mrs. Lipton, which you honestly think is hopelessly corny but it’s way too adorable to tell him so. And besides, you secretly love it.

He always reminisces about home in his letters. Tells you how much he misses the smell of your baking, the squeak of the front porch swing that you two would sit on and watch the sunset. 

He worries a lot about you and his family. He always asks you to look in on his mother if it’s not too much trouble. 

Lip doesn’t talk much about the war, in fact he hardly acknowledges it at all. And he never uses the term ‘war’ or ‘battle’. Instead, he says things like The boys over here are still committed to doing the job or Easy presses on.  

Lip’s letters get a little shorter and less soft after Bastogne. He starts including the names of the casualties in his company in the P.S. Even though you don’t know these men except by name - and some of them, not even that - you feel honored that he trusts you with their memories. 

Lip has saved your letters and all the pictures you sent to him - he loves pictures, and asks for an updated one of you almost every month - tucked in his foot locker and safely between the pages of his Bible so they don’t get creased or dirty. 

You also find that he’s kept stacks of letters from some of his men that died in the field. When you ask him what he plans to do with the letters, he gets a heartbreaking, far-off look in his eyes and says I reckon I’ll try to get them back to their families. 

You take on the burden of doing that, and you write to some of the families introducing yourself and introducing Lip and offering to forward them the letters.

All the replies you get back mention that their soldier talked about how good a leader and friend Lip was. Their replies bring tears to your eyes. For some reason, you don’t show the letters to Lip, although you do tell him about them. He never asks to read the letters, he just kisses you on your forehead and tells you that he’s never loved you more. 

Even after he’s home, he’ll still write you a letter from time to time, usually at Christmastime or for your birthday in the summer. His letters are always talking about his favorite memories with you, and there’s always a paragraph at the end where he talks about how in love with you he is. It’s borderline poetry and it makes you cry every single time.

GIF by balladofthe101st

Buck Compton

Basically just writes a list of questions for you to answer in every letter.

Wants to know everything about what’s going on at home. Especially sports teams.

Doesn’t write frequently, so sometimes it’s hard to feel like there’s a conversation happening. 

But he always includes sweet little notes about how much he’s thinking of you and how he’s counting down the days until he can hold you again, so you’re not complaining. 

Not the most poetic writer. Always says what he thinks and feels though. Completely honest and open. 

Does not tell you anything about the war. Basically ignores the entire thing. 

Sometimes you think about asking him about that, but you figure that he’s not talking about it for a reason, so you follow suit.

Calls you baby in his letters. 

Doesn’t actually say ‘I love you’ in his letters, although says everything else. Miss you baby. Dream about you all the time. When I get home, I’m putting a ring on your finger. 

One time he writes that he woke up last night out of a dream and swore I could taste you and it makes your toes curl.

You save that letter, tuck it in your underwear drawer. 

Signs his letters very simply: Buck. Sometimes he’ll put something in like until next time or I’ll write soon. But usually nothing super romantic or sentimental.

Doesn’t save your letters, but that really doesn’t bother you too much because all you wrote in them was basically just rambling details that Buck requested about your boring day-to-day. 

Buck’s always better in person than in writing - he’s a quality time and physical touch kind of guy - but you know that your letters were his only lifeline to normal during the war, and you’re just happy to have him back at all. 

He does surprise you one night when it’s really quiet in the house and you’re sitting on the couch together, each reading a book. He suddenly turns to you and says You know baby girl, your letters saved my sanity over there. It’s the most he’s really ever said about the war, but it’s enough, and you kiss him so he knows that you get it.  

GIF by balladofthe101st

David Webster

Unsurprisingly, Web is probably the best letter writer in all of Easy Company. 

He helps a lot of the other guys write letters home, especially if they’re trying to say something important. Web just has a knack for words unlike any other. 

He writes a lot of letters home, not just to you, but to the rest of his family, his siblings, some of his friends, and definitely his professors. 

So because you’re close with Web’s family, you do get to read a lot of his writing. 

His letters to you are different though. They’re darker and a little less polished. Sometimes, they frighten you a little bit. Web talks about things you’re not you really understand - like how pointless death is, how empty it makes him feel to see his friends get KIA, how he carries around guilt about surviving this long like an anchor. 

Refers to you exclusively in his letters by your first name, his writing is always serious and somber and drenched with heavy emotions, so pet names just really don’t fit the vibe.

He quotes poetry and literature quite a bit when he writes. It all feels a bit Gothic, but you’ve always known that Web has found clarity in the world through books, so you don’t begrudge him a little poetic license.

Signs his letters Yours in perpetuity, David K. Webster. 

Asks you to send books. Sometimes he asks for something specific, but other times he’s happy to get whatever you pick out for him. Your tastes are different from his; you prefer to choose shorter, gentle pieces about life in the British countryside or Western adventure novels. Web would prefer Wadsworth or Hemingway, but he figures it’s probably in his best interests to read things that don’t tackle dark themes. You always tuck a letter for him into the first few pages. 

He doesn’t save your letters, per se, although he does save every single book you send to him. When he gets home, he puts them all up on the bookshelf in his office. Even though they’re beat up and stained and not at all fitting with the rest of his collection, they’re front and center. 

Sometimes he takes a stab at sketching in his letters. He’s not bad, either. You try to encourage him to take lessons when he gets home, which he never does. He secretly loves how much you love his drawings though.

GIF by yourspeirs

Joe Liebgott

KING OF DIRTY LETTERS

You definitely like to re-read his letters… again and again…

Not every letter is a dirty one. But most are. Or at least have a dirty section in them. 

You don’t know how this man makes you feel wanted from halfway around the world, but somehow he does. Lord knows you love a lot about your Joey, but you didn’t realize how good he was with words until you found yourself practically stalking the mailman, hoping for another delivery from Joe.

Uses a lot of pet names in his letters. Baby girl, Doll, Princess are some of his favorites. Literally never calls you by your name.

Always signs off with Your Joey. 

Even when Joe is clearly in a dark place, his letters are saturated with how much he needs you and how he can’t stop thinking about all the ways he’s going to have you when he gets home. 

When your mother finds one of Joey’s letters to you, she throws an absolute shit fit and freaks out that you’re sleeping with someone before you’re married. It takes a long time for you to convince her that you haven’t slept with Joey yet, you’re just… really into dirty talking.

She kinda chills after that but still looks at you suspiciously every time you get a letter from him.

She never tells your dad though, which makes you think maybe she’s more supportive of your relationship with him than you realized.

After working up the courage, you write Joe a letter that is so sinful you actually doubt whether you should send it in the mail, it just feels so wrong.

When I say this man goes crazy for that letter, it is an understatement. He is out of his mind and immediately writes you a reply telling you so. Basically begs you for more.

Even though your letters back and forth with Joe are pretty raunchy, there’s also a sweetness to them. He’s always sure to mention that This ain’t just all talk, Doll. When you’re Mrs. Liebgott, you’re gonna see exactly what I’ve been writing about. Which you know is still pretty dirty, but hey, he’s basically proposing to you, right?

You are not the least bit surprised to know that he kept your naughtiest letters when he finally gets home.

But, Joseph Liebgott is a man of his word, and even though he is clearly dying to and you’re practically begging him to, he doesn’t make good on all those dirty promises until after you’re wearing his ring.

Much to your delight, you find that he is just as good with actions as he is with words.

[moremaybank]

jj casually whining (as he’s a needy boy) coz his girl is doing her skincare for bed rather than having a soft make out sesh

i love our pouty baby sm :((( fem!reader || jj masterlist

JJ watches you intensely from his seat on your marbled countertop. You can feel the saddened energy radiating from the permanent pout plastered on his lips. 

“Baby.” 

“I don’t wanna hear it, J. Let me get ready for bed and then we’ll do whatever you want, I promise.” 

“But I want a kiss,” he says in protest. “Please?”

You squint your eyes at him in disbelief. “It’s never just one with you, J.” 

“You’ve never complained before,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “What’s next? You gonna tell me you don’t love me?”

Ah, yes. In a world of boys being sucked into the sassy man apocalypse, you remember that JJ is practically the one who invented it in the first place. 

“Shh.”

You continue with your nightly routine, moving on to your skincare products. You douse your cotton pad in toner and carefully swipe it across your face. From the corner of your eye, you notice JJ pick up one of the many bottles lined up before you. His eyes squint as he tries to read the small font printed on the white label. One word catches his eye, and his brows shoot up in panic.

“Acid?! Your face’ll melt off!” 

You laughed loudly, snatching the bottle out of his grasp. “It’s not that kind of acid, my love. Calm down.” You press a kiss to his cheek, hoping it’ll quiet his worries. He sighs in relief, accompanied by a phew, and he’s so sweet that you burn to kiss him again. But there’s plenty of time to do that and more after you’re finished, so you get back on track. 

You unscrew the bottle of hyaluronic acid in your grasp and squeeze a few drops onto your palm. You pat it onto your skin, watching as it makes your skin all dewy and glowy. Meanwhile, JJ plucks another bottle from your stash. 

“Nee-uh-sin—” He cuts himself off with a sigh, “I can’t even pronounce this. You sure you should be putting it on your face?” 

You close the bottle you’re holding, placing it back onto the counter and taking JJ’s from him. “Niacinamide, babe. And yes, I’m good. I use it every day. It’s a big part of how I stay so pretty.”

He frowns at that. It doesn’t matter what you look like to him. No matter if you’re wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, or one of those pretty sundresses you love. Sneakers or high heels or flip-flops. Makeup, no makeup. Hair done, hair very much undone. You look like a vision twenty-four-seven. Even when you’re passed out beside him with drool escaping your lips. 

Especially then. 

“You know you don’t need to do all this. You’re perfect. You don’t need any help,” he tells you. He jumps off the counter and makes his way behind you. His eyes lock with yours in the reflection of your bathroom mirror, and his hands rest on your hipbones. You feel the surge of warmth from him, and you lean against his front as you melt into him. “In fact, if you get any prettier, I think it’ll kill me.” 

Your heart clenches, and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks in a flash. He’s too sweet for his own good, and the worst (and best) part about it is that he says it so casually as if it’s not a big deal. 

But it is. 

You discard the glass bottle for a moment, turning around in JJ’s hold. Your hands cradle his face, thumbs swiping over the harsh line of his jaw. “Okay. You’ve earned your kiss.” 

He cracks a smile. “Only one?” 

“Two, max. You’ll get the rest when I’m finished.” 

“Deal.”

[prismuffin]

so for my bday ficcc i have two ideas

idea number one: male reader is based on my demon oc. basically personality wise they very sassy and flirty. kinda a bitch ass ho. idc who u pair it with imma be real. it could be ghost, soap or or price. or like batman. he summons them n junk

idea number 2:

polycule ghost, soap x male reader. male reader is a smart dumbass. like they’re an airhead all of the time minus work. they’re a colonel but honestly dumb as shit outside of work. obvious as hell.

if u want more ideas i can tell u love u mwahhhhh

A/n: Hey Webbie!! Happy birthday!! (Or late birthday depending on when I get this out) decided to go with option 2 kay? also i didnt know how to end this- fight me-

Idiot Boyfriend

Poly!GhostSoap x airhead!male!reader

( summary: Ghost reflects on how he fell in love with two dumbasses )

Warnings?: swearing, mentions of alcohol, talks of guns and violence, reader being a dumbass

!-!more under the cut!-!

Ghost sighed as he watched you chase Gaz around base. He'd apparently tickled you which you saw as a threat, immediately taking off to get your revenge. Hearing a laugh beside him Ghost turned, seeing an amused Soap who was also watching your silly antics. "Go get 'em sweetheart!" He cheered you on and Ghost groaned. "Don't encourage 'em Johnny," "Why not? This is a funny sight," He smirked, sitting next to Ghost, his head instinctually falling onto the taller mans shoulder. Ghost rolled his eyes as he watched you trip, Gaz stopping to laugh at you. "Oh damn, think he's alright Lt?" Soap asked only to get silence as a response. "Lt?" Ghost had heard him, though he was too busy wondering why he was even with such an airhead anyway. He'd already been dating one headache why did he feel the need to worsen his pain with another.

When he'd first met you he was already with Soap, their relationship being monogamous at the time. Though that was more of a suggestion than set in stone. Maybe it was the fact that the first time he'd met you- you were choking some guy out with the power of your thighs alone that'd intrigued him. Either way you'd easily clicked with Soap after meeting him, and after exchanging war stories and silly jokes with the two men all day they both knew at the end of it that they liked you. Initially, it wasn't going to go anywhere but Soap was the one who suggested adding you to their little relationship. Ghost was hesitant at first, not because he didn't like you but because he wasn't sure if you liked him. You'd obviously liked Soap, romantically or not you both clicked immediately, but for some reason for Ghost it was so hard to read you on your feelings for him. Sure you were polite out of respect but could it ever go deeper than that? He knows sometimes his dark humor can fall flat and his stoic tone doesn't help either. Soap had reassured him that he had a charm that couldn't be beat, but of course he'd say that. You and him clicked so easily, you both told terrible jokes and fucked around when you shouldn't. You both had a mutual love for explosives and beer and karaoke and had this natural bond he could only wish for with you. After talking about it they sort of dropped it for a few weeks but it was clear that Soap had liked you and he could understand why. Especially after what he considers the true turning point for him. It was a pretty normal night on base, everyone asleep in their barracks, everyone except Ghost. He often had nights like these where sleep was the last thing on his mind, memories plaguing his brain as he fought desperately to think of anything else. He would wake up Johnny, tell him about the bad thoughts, but he really needed the sleep after the last mission they'd been on. So he thought to deal with it alone, going into the kitchen to hopefully find a stashed bottle whisky to drown his sorrows for the night. Only upon entering he found you, leaning against the counter, pouring yourself a freshly brewed pot of coffee. You both locked eyes, a mutual understanding flooding you both as you held out the warm pot, asking silently if he'd join you. He, of course, was hesitant but had nothing better to do. So he grabbed a mug from the cabinet and watched as you poured his coffee, black.

You'd both sat in silence for some time before you asked quietly why he was up. He told the truth, nightmares, but didn't go into much detail understandably. You hummed, replying with the same answer when he'd asked you a similar question. Your jokey manner was all but lost in this moment, at least for a second. You'd asked him to talk about his nightmares with you, saying that it'd be better than him just holding everything in all the time. He didn't expect it, but you were so easy to talk to. Just the smallest amount of convincing and he did what you asked. That night you both shared the stories of your nightmares with each other. You comforted him, gave him advice and told him things he definitely needed to hear. Him ranting only got the ball rolling as he found himself sitting on the common room couch with you simply talking about anything and everything, your company in the now silent base was warming. You'd even laughed at his horrid jokes, throwing back a few that he's now added to his growing roster of dark humor. He hadn't felt like this since...well...Johnny. As the sun rose and light cracked through the curtains he couldn't help but feel a little glad that he'd gotten to spend time with you. That night alone showed him he did have a natural connection with you. You understood him in ways he didn't even think you could. He found you also shared his insomnia episodes, his love for dogs and specific guns, his respect of stealth and going at it alone on missions. When he saw Soap later that day he nonchalantly added that he's now considering asking you to join their relationship, and he couldn't help but replicate the smile on Soaps face.

One which he held now.

"Lt?" Soap glanced up at Ghost, noticing the slight crinkle in his eye and the small indent underneath his cloth balaclava. To anyone else he'd look completely normal right now, but Soap knew that those miniscule signs meant that he was smiling. Smiling at you as you groaned on the floor. Closing his eyes, Ghosts shoulders bounced in a silent laugh before he moved to stand, Soap following him with his eyes before realizing where he was going, and moving to go to you too.

Rolling on your back, you huffed, the cold floor on your rear as you stared up at the blinding white flood lights that shone down on you. Only they were blocked by a shadow, then two, the smiling faces of your boyfriends stood over you. "Need a hand sweetheart?" Soaps Scottish accent filled your ears and you couldn't help the small smile that found it's way to your face. Reaching out with both hands you grabbed onto one of each of theirs, laughing as they hoisted you up with ease. You felt Ghost pat your back before his arm wrapped itself around you. Looking at him you noticed the small smile beneath his mask and reciprocated his action, now committing to a full side hug. You just held each other there before Soap joined in, now you held both of your boyfriends in your arms. You rocked back and forth between them, your chase with Gaz momentarily forgotten as you accepted this newer task of being held. Only momentarily though as Gaz came back into view you suddenly remembered what you were doing before this, your glare being set on his form. "Garrick!" You yelled and he ran again, you moved to chase him but the hands of ghost didn't seem to want to let you go. "No you don't, come on, we're leaving." "Awww but Simon come on-" you groaned, "I'm starving." He stated bluntly, practically dragging you away from the scene as Soap laughed at your pouting face, following the two of you to the kitchen. Ghost simply listened as you began ranting about some random show that you and Soap had been watching, allowing you to completely forget about the Gaz thing as you got distracted by your own thoughts again. He watched as you and Soap recounted a particular episode that seemingly got on your nerves as it ended on a cliff hanger, silently smiling once again as he relished in the company of his two idiot boyfriends.

----!----

( HAPPY BIRTHDAY WEB I HOPE YOU LIKE YOU BIRTHDAY FIC SEXY !!! )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

[listofwhyyouloveher]

I feel like Darry really like being bigger then the reader, like not just in a sexual way either (also in a sexual way who tf are we kidding??)

Like he always likes when the readers got to call for him to grab something from the top shelf

(Nsfw head cannons him being like that?? Maybe?? IM SO DOGSHIT AT REQUESTS IM SORRY APJSKAJDKSBS)

Summary: self explanatory lol

Warnings: smut hcs

Author's note: I feel like using gifs for these are always so awkward cuz like wtf is u saying I don't read lips, bbg. But I have to because I've depleted my stash of photos.

Darry isn't someone who would use his size to his advantage

It makes it feel like he's forcing you to do things stuff like that.

He's always trying to meet you at eye level, even if he has to lean over a bit.

He doesn't mean it in a condescending way but as a more of a 'I'm trying to match your energy" way

He does like the fact that his height makes you look more adorable because you have to look up.

He finds it soo sexy when you look up him and he loves it almost as he loves matching your energy.

He always tells you to ask him for help if you need to reach high places or places that requires physical strength to get to.

He will never miss an opportunity to help you with a high dish, book, can, etc.

He loves lording it over you in bed too. He'll always make sure to tease you a little about it too.

How you look "so pretty underneath him" and stuff like that.

Sometimes when he's feeling a little sassy, he'll piss you off by putting his hand or elbow on your head as a rest.

Never ever tries to make you feel bad, like you should be afraid of him cuz of his advantage.

He makes sure you are and feel 100% safe every time he's around you

he really appreciates the domestic aspect of your guys life and how he could create an environment like this.

[basil-does-arttt]

What kind of humour would the dmc characters have?

Dante, especially after meeting Patty and Nero, loves a classic dad joke. He makes them so often that Lady and Trish just roll their eyes with a groan at this point, lol. Somewhere in the office he's got a book stashed away thats just a collection of dad jokes. Vergil i think seems like he doesn't have any sense of humor at all when you first meet him, but we know from DMC 3 he LOVES his sarcasm. Teasing, sarcastic quips and being sassy with people, even if he isn't full on laughing at it, is something i think he finds really funny. Only if its because it pisses other people (Dante) off. Nero's sense of humor i think is the same as a teenage boy's sense of humor. Gross and sometimes it makes you want to slap him across the face, but there are occasional moments where his jokes are genuinely funny and make you giggle a bit (before you force yourself to stop because that was NOT funny at all, didn't laugh one bit.) That and cat memes. Nico is the same, they egg eachother on untill one of them has to shut it down because its just getting a little bit TOO much. Lady i think enjoys dark humor, maybe a little bit too much at times. Its just her way of coping, yknow? Never any dark jokes to do with children though, she thinks thats crossing a line. Trish i think has a similar sense of humor to Vergil, but rather than pissing people off, she does it to see how flustered she can make somebody before they run away (ESPECIALLY Lady. seeing how red she can turn Lady before the poor woman has to retreat otherwise she'd explode... Trish's favourite past-time :3) Kyrie, partly in thanks to taking care of children for a good chunk of time, enjoys simple jokes that are usually reserved for little kids (stuff like "why did the chicken cross the road"). But also, i think she'd make the occasional dark joke herself. Its never anything too outrageous or shocking, but sometimes it is enough to make Nero pause and ask if she's okay lmao.

[pokegalla]

Bestie- I need this ok?!

Bad sanses with an S/O that absolutely DEVOURS energy drinks, like, 3+ a day- and they are still tired-

(I just described me fr-)

Ok gotchu✨

Sorry about late response! I thought I had finished your request…..

Then I look at drafts 🙃

I hope you enjoy!!!

The Bad Sanses (+ Cross) with an tired S/o who always drinks energy drinks!

Dust:

* How are you alive man? Like not radioactive and shit-? That is a LOT of energy drinks. And you can’t fool this guy. He’s very observant so he’ll immediately notice that you still get tired.

* He honestly might just teach you the bad causes of drinking too many. Nah really he will sit you down with all the research he did to explain everything. (Quite endearing really. He really wants to make sure you’re ok❤️)

* Now he’s not gonna force you to stop. It’s really up to you in the end. But he will still be making sure you are ok. And he suggests healthier options too! See? Now you can enjoy what you love but in a much healthier way!

* He’s not very talkative but the way he shows how much he cares for you is very sweet. Don’t worry your skellie too much! He’s quite the Worrywart!

Horror:

* Boyo is always trying to take a sip from your can. He’s just curious on why you love it so much. So much that he is literally giving you puppy eyes so that you’ll give him a sip (which I know you succumbed to the cuteness-). He found it pretty cool!

* And yet…..you still cannot get away with saying “Oh I’m not tired! Just waiting for it to kick in! 👀💦” yeah sweetie Horror is also very observant. He’ll make you get sleep. And you can ONLY get an energy drink if you get proper sleep in!

* He knows you love the drinks but he’d rather you get proper sleep first! Then you can have any you like! Why drink to get energy when you can just sleep Y’know? That’s what he thinks anyway. But he wants you happy too so you always wake up with an energy drink ready for you! ☺️

* He just wants you to be happy and healthy!

Killer:

* Bruh. You know DAMN well he’s probably the one supplying you the damn drinks- if you thought you was bad? Think again- he literally has an unlimited supply in god knows where in that room of his…..

* Let’s be honest: He drinks WITH you. Both of you happily drinking together on the couch watching anime or playing games. But he’ll drop a few hints about “Heh might wanna slow down…”

* Now just because he kind of (is) a bad influence, doesn’t mean he won’t keep an eye on you. If he sees how it affects you, he’ll try to moderate how much to give you. Because he may be a lil shit….but he cares about you a lot.

* You can always be guaranteed to have fun with this guy but also taken care of no matter what!

Error:

* Glitchy boi would be a straight up dick talking about you have an addiction meanwhile he’s on his 15th chocolate bar himself- I’m pretty sure he steals your drinks too-

* And you can bet he’s taking those drinks away if you’re overdoing it. He’ll have multiple excuses for keeping it from you…..but really he just wuvs you and doesn’t want you feeling all sluggish because he worries for you 🥺. Will he admit that? HA! No-

* Though he will easily give in with a little….convincing. Puppy eyes and promising more chocolates? He’ll eventually give in. But he also makes you promise to at least take it easy with the drinks.

* Grumpy hobo man may be a lil sassy but he means well!

Nightmare:

* He’s probably the only one who doesn’t see why the hell you like these drinks. It tastes like battery acid…..(says the guy drinking black coffee-). He didn’t really care at first but the MOMENT he sees how groggy you get? Oh you fucked up-

* He’s immediately hiding your stash and you WILL be scolded if you ask about it. And he’s dragging your ass to bed to make sure you get proper sleep. Right after he makes sure you are properly hydrated first.

* I can imagine even as his S/o, these moments can be quite unexpected but he was like…..mother henning you. And the way he stays by your side to make sure you’re ok makes your heart melt❤️

* Even the king of negativity can have a sweet side!

Cross (Lil bonus boi✨):

* Well he does like a few energy drinks himself especially for a game night or during morning training. He can drink as much as you without really realizing it then feels guilty about it but laughs it off.

* But it’s definitely a different story when he notices how sleepy you still are especially after the amount you drank. He gets a little concerned and asks if you’re okay. When he learns the energy drinks don’t work on you, he thought of a few ideas…..

* He looked for alternatives that could help you wake up much better. Like working out with him and eating a few healthier meals! But you both do have days to splurge on your favorite drink. It’s only fair!

* He didn’t want you to miss out on what you loved! So he helped you find a balance! He just loves you so!❤️

[turiluvr]

stitches

when you need him, he'll always be there.

— tighnari x gn!reader

— cw: stitches, blood, injury

"You're hurt." Those two words are all that he said as soon as he laid his eyes on you and you knew all too well that he wasn't happy with it. It baffled you with the way he immediately knew that you were injured despite your attempt to hide it—it was barely visible and your demeanor was normal, you were sure that you'd be able to fool him flawlessly. Though perhaps what gave it away was the stench of blood on you; he couldn't have missed that.

"It's nothing too bad," you waved your arms slightly as an attempt to reassure him and to convince him that it wasn't as bad as he thinks it is. "See? I can move just fine—"

"Let me see." He cut you off promptly and you couldn't help but freeze in place as a difficult expression took over your features. He took a few hurried steps toward you and grabbed your arm. He rolled up your sleeve and there he saw a deep cut on your arm, you saw his face contort slightly at the sight. "Idiot." He muttered, "you need stitches."

"No way… It'll just heal on its own, won't it?"

"Do you want to risk an infection?" He grabbed a cloth and the first aid kit stashes away in one of the cabinets. He was relieved that he knew how to treat this kind of open wound, he's done it on other people before when they came to him covered in cuts and bruises after an eventful expedition to the forest. Still, it didn't mean that he wasn't nervous—in fact, he was agitated but he refused to show it in his face. He took a deep breath and started working. "Stay still."

He was silent for the most part and you felt like you were holding your breath for so long. It never felt good when Tighnari was worried or disappointed; this time it felt like it was a mix of both. You wished he'd say something—anything to take your mind off the worries that started plaguing your mind. Initiating small talk first might earn you a sassy remark but staying silent might earn you a disappointed sigh. Either way, you couldn't wiggle your way out of this one.

Finally, he said something. His tone was soft, much unlike what you initially thought. His expression was unreadable as he worked on your stitches, but you could almost swear that there's a faint hint of sadness in his expression. "What happened?"

"I fell from a tree and my arm got stuck on one of the branches." He shot you a stern look immediately and you quickly shook your head. "Okay, I lied." You sighed and finally told him the truth, "I was attacked."

"... Mhm," was all he replied with. He didn't say anything but you knew he wanted you to continue explaining.

"It really wasn't that big of a deal but I guess I kind of got careless and before I knew it, their blade cut through my sleeve." You laughed nervously, expecting Tighnari to scold you for your reckless behaviour and give you a long lecture about the importance of remaining vigilant.

"Do you feel a little better now?" You don't know why you suddenly felt a little lightheaded. Was it the feeling of him stitching you up or was it the fact that his voice, his face was so soft that you couldn't believe what you were witnessing. Somehow, your words got stuck in your throat.

"Well… Yeah," You looked at your arm as Tighnari finished up his stitches, a little way for you to avoid his gaze for a few moments. "But aren't you mad or upset?"

"Frankly, I am mad and upset." He sighed and massaged his temples. "But now is hardly the time to scold you," he ran a finger across your newly stitched wound. "I'm just worried, most of all. I don't like seeing you hurt."

"... Really?" You didn't know if those last words held some sort of meaning to them. Perhaps he was referring to anyone in general, who liked seeing a person hurt? An abnormal guy, for sure and Tighnari was far from abnormal. Though, to you, you couldn't help but feel that those words were especially for you. His bare fingers trailing across your skin send shivers down your spine and you couldn't help but miss it when he finally pulls away.

He didn't answer your question and he stood up from his seat to place the first aid kit to where he took it from. "You should rest now. It'll heal faster if you stay still." He turned around to look at you once more, "oh, and…"

"And?"

"Be more careful." He looked away, "next time, let me come with you."

"You can't do that, we have completely different tasks and duties." You laughed. Tighnari looked a little embarrassed as he cleared his throat.

"Then, at least promise me this—promise me that I'll be the first person you come to when you need help." It was a strange request; a little selfish on top of that. You couldn't help but give him a puzzled expression. He continued, "whether it's because you're injured, exhausted, or even a little down, I'll always be here to lend you my shoulder and stitch you back up if you need me to."

That's awfully sweet but—"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious enough for you?" He scoffed but it slowly turned into a small smile, "I'll let you think about it. Have fun figuring it out."

You knew well why he was acting this way. You just wanted to hear it leave his lips this time. How unfortunate that he keeps being so roundabout.

[humongousgothskeletonfarm]

tsc thoughts while reading (beware of spoilers) starting with -

david wymack my fucking beloved

also i never rlly liked/cared for thea but her scene with jean and her nickname for him was cute

chapter 3 thoughts:

jeremy being in awe of neil and the foxes is giving me life

fanfics with alvarez in them gonna go crazy now that we actually have a first name for her (and don’t have to invent one)

oh they rich rich (in reference to jeremy’s family butler?!)

jerejean first interaction!!!!

chapter 4:

omg sunshine court mentioned

having the sudden realisation that i can never read fanfics that have jean’s perspective or anything about the how the ravens work, raven!neil/aftermath of the kings men in the same way again

my neighbours are having a party and while i’m loving the music and absolutely jealous i’m not there, it’s really distracting me from reading

ngl i rlly miss neil and andrew and the foxes please let me see my family soon

‘ what you hold onto is less important than the act of holding on itself’ nora sakavic shut the fuck up you philosophical genius i’m gonna cry this is so real to me

renee i love u

WIT WTF JEAN IS NINETEEN I DIDNT KNOW THAT OH MY GOD BABY HE JOINED THE RAVEN LINEUP AT SIXTEEN WTF

i’m drinking red wine while reading and i think that’s appropriate… also i’m listening to that jean moreau playlist someone made and it’s mega depressing https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5zlPt63Ap0AjJQ1Ff5OKrd?si=75oEzLE8SO-bfJwewM8Evw&pi=a-ge04jIlVTJGY

this is so funny to only me but i’ve been hyperfixating on one direction again and zayn just dropped new music so everytime i read about jean’s raven roomate zane i think of one direction and confused myself a bit about what fandom i’m reading rn

fuck riko u sick fucking fuck u put jean into a box with a singular hole for air and left him to die u fucking cunt

KEVIN ASKING JEAN TO PROMISE NOT TO KILL HIMSELF AFTER NORA WROTE COUNTLESS DRAFTS IN WHICH JEAN KILLED HIMSELF WHILE ON THE PHONE TO KEVIN AND THE ONLY TIME SHE DIDNT KILL JEAN OFF IS THE VERSION SHE PUBLISHED AND THE REASON WE GET TO HEAR HIS STORY TODAY IM SO BROKEN

jean’s ‘gift’ from the ravens with his broken magnets, blacked out postcards and angry letters is making me cry he deserves so much better

slowly realising that this book is gonna be super triggering lol whoops

a cool evening breeze 🥲

THAT CREEPY LITTLE GOALKEEPER IS MY FAVOURITE GUY OK

‘kevin saw nothingn but the court, but jean had stopped hoping for more than that years ago’ shut the fuckkkk uppppp i cant do this anymore kevin/jean relationship is so deeply important to me (i say this about everything)

chapter 5:

SECOND NEIL/ JEAN INTERACTION OF THE BOOK IM SO FUCKING EXCITED

‘of course it’d be you, you tedious malcontent’ ‘good morning to you too’ is so ‘morning sunshine’ ‘fuck you’ coded (neil and matt bromance confirmed)

the amount of mitski on this jean playlist is making me sick

FUCKING SCREAMING OMFG THIS IS THE JEAN/NEIL CONTENT I YEARN FOR

‘abominable cockroach’ aww jean u say the sweetest things 🥰❤️ neil loves u too babe

literally devouring every last scrap of information jean feeds us about neil - his slow, hungry, hateful smile and the madness in his eyes (neil baby i love u never change)

oh jean don’t diss aaron, do u know how many fanfics have been written about u two

tsc is confirmation that jean moreau will come into ur house and judge u based on the contents of ur fridge (and then throw out ur stash of lollies)

‘to have a real match as a palate cleanser’ jean is really trying to win my favour by borrowing neil’s sassiness huh (no wonder i love them so much together) ((and yes i know he’s BEEN sassy ok))

jean reaching for the tv screen as if he could save neil and describing andrew running for neil as if hell was on his heels is making me absolutely giddy idk whether to scream or cry i’m doing both and i’m giggling

I bet on losing dogs is so jean moreau coded omg

holy fuck nora, the moments after the raven/fox match when riko tries to kill neil is fucking amazingly written. reading from jean’s perspective as he watches the game on tv, the tension, the breathless anxiety and confusion of the scene is palpable i coukd fucking taste it, my chest is tight just reading it

JEAN SAYING ANDREW WILL BE COURT IS IMMACULATE

[jadeshifting]

— 25 DAYS OF SHIFTMAS (DAY 9)

Snowflakes — What are some headcannons you have about people in your DR?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

would i ever voice these theories? unlikely, but i definitely keep a running mental list for my own amusement

— Lorenzo is part-veela (people swoon when he’s near them, he makes friends with everybody. he walks past and people looks at him like he’s sparkling—he could charm the scales off a Basilisk. there’s gotta be something in his family tree)

— Pansy has a secret garden somewhere on the castle grounds—her extensive herbology work is far too intense for her not to have a hidden spot where she grows magical plants, probably for personal experiments

— Daphne’s uncanny ability to know everything happening at Hogwarts isn’t just intuition; she must have informants in every house. (i’m convinced she’s basically running a network)

— Draco is too good at chess (NOT in skill, he’s casting subtle wandless magic during matches to guarantee that he wins)

— Mattheo keeps a notebook full of hexes and pranks he’s testing out (his smirk during any Slytherin hijinks makes me suspect he’s the mastermind behind most of the chaos in the common room)

— Pansy ghostwrites for part of the social column in the Hogwarts newspaper (her oddly specific and scathing relationship advice during late-night talks has me half-convinced she’s behind the sassy, anonymous writing)

— Draco definitely writes flowery, angsty poetry verses in secret, and i’m also pretty sure he’s stashing them under his mattress

— Theo’s owl delivers the most scandalous letters (the cheeky little thing always seems to be flitting off at odd hours, and i know there’s an illicit reason)

— Astoria knows every single Hogwarts ghost by name (she’s nonchalant about it, but too friendly with them, and i suspect she’s had tea with all of them by now)

— Pansy secretly hates peppermint (even though she claims she adores every holiday treat, i’ve been watching, and i swear her enthusiastic sipping of peppermint hot cocoa is just for the aesthetic. nothing wrong with that, though)

— Astoria collects cursed jewelry for fun (i can sense the magic, i think she has a collection of trinkets with questionable backstories hidden in her trunk)

— Draco’s hair takes a full hour to style every morning (he says it’s effortless, but i think it takes extensive potions, charms, and pure dedication. i suspects he has a vanity ritual rivaling all the witches i know)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[rascals-forthememories]

Alex V. “Ajax” Johnson moodboard + random headcanons

🎸⋆➤Imagine him to be born in the early 80’s, ok 1988 which makes him a millennial of course, raised in very supportive but sassy asf parents, he could've been from the hood but he's too nice for hell. His momma is very good at coming up with insults, but she's got a very good voice, and dad is clever dude who knows life hacks n shi then they all moved to a citylife. He has to be a city boy...

🎸⋆➤He and Keegan were either childhood best friends bc they were neighbors, went to the same school, playing pranks and causing trouble but always having each other's backs. Their moms being friends is also a nice touch, maybe they even used to arrange play dates for them when they were younger.

🎸⋆➤Being a bit of a 90s video game nerd. Maybe he had a SNES and Genesis when he was a kid, and now as a teen he's moved on to the 360 or PlayStation. (challenging Jemima to random games or competitions, just to see who can be the more competitive) He might even have a Game Boy stashed away somewhere for all those late-night gaming sessions. He'd probably be the one to drag the others into retro gaming binges where they'd spend hours playing old school Mario or Zelda, until Merrick or Keegan finally puts a stop to it. Always trolling Keegan at Mariokartt, Ajax's goal isn't to win the race, his goal is to green shell Keegan in game.

🎸⋆➤Ajax as the 2nd bassist in the band, making it a duo with Keegan. Maybe they bonded over their mutual love for bass, spending hours practicing together and jamming out to their favourite songs. They could even have a friendly rivalry going on, trying to outdo each other during rehearsal and constantly one-upping each other's riffs and licks.

🎸⋆➤^And considering Ajax's "cheesy goofball" personality, I could see him always coming up with the cheesiest bass-related puns and jokes. Like when Keegan asks him to play a funky bass line, Ajax might respond with a cheesy line like "Oh, you want funk? I've got the funk, baby! I'll hit that note so hard, you'll hear it in your bones!" or "You want to make the bass sing? Well, I've got the perfect recipe - a pinch of slapping, a dash of popping, and a whole lot of attitude!"

🎸⋆➤Can beatbox decently but only to the point he can impress people who don't beatbox, not the crazy sounds. Hes just very good with rhythm and beat.

🎸⋆➤DEFINITELY be all over Keegan for having Jemíma, just picture him constantly teasing Keegan about her, saying things like "Hey, look who's got a pretty girl tagging along with him lately!" or "Hey, loverboy, can you spare a minute from your little date to focus on the music for once?" Maybe he'd even write a cheesy love song about Keegan and Jemima, just to get under Keegan's skin. "Love Ballad of the Bassists," anyone?

🎸⋆➤Ajax's bassist skills would pair with Keegan's - both of them are pretty damn good. But where Keegan is more technical and focused on precision and technical skill, Ajax would be wilder and more energetic, playing with raw energy and power.

🎸⋆➤Loves indie rock and the classic boy band sound of the Backstreet Boys. And the drummer covers are a great touch too! Maybe he stumbled across a video of a sick drum cover on YouTube one day and got hooked, spending hours watching and rewatching the performance and trying to mimic the insane beats. Now, he's a total drum cover enthusiast, always keeping an eye out for the latest and greatest covers on the internet. (Meanwhile, Merrick might roll his eyes at Ajax's love for drum covers, saying something like "Seriously, man? You're more obsessed with those drum covers than you are with actual music. But Ajax would just wave him off and say, "Hey, you're not the one playing the thunder-making instrument here)

🎸⋆➤Has a few other quirky habits and interests outside of music. Maybe a secret love for collecting vintage action figures or sports memorabilia, or a hidden talent for painting or drawing. A weird addiction to eating way too much chocolate or candy and strange obsession with collecting rare bands vinyl's like ''Yo check this out''. He’s also a bit of a wisecracker and loves to banter back and forth with his friends. Habit of accidentally dropping his bass during rehearsal and blaming it on the other guys, saying they spooked him or something.

[tinylittlelee]

my friend is being the biggest bullie :( (hehe :p) first he’s being picking on me all night. He asked me where the weed was and I said in the stash jar and he went to my weed drawer looking for them and I was sassy and was like I said in the jar! And he was like I don’t see them?!? And I repeated myself and he finally understood 😂 he laughs and goes YOUR COUNTRY ASS ACCENT 😂 I thought you were saying drawer 😂 and then he made me fun of me again for it later 🙈

BUT THE MEANIEST EVILEST PART IS I was sitting in my recliner and my feet were hanging off the recliner at first he touched his foot to my foot and was like teasing my foot and then he sat on the floor and would like tease my feet every once in awhile when I wasn’t paying attention 🙈🙈 the last couple times he tickled my feet he even started to REALLY get mean with verbal teases and really attacked me and it was EVILLLLLL 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈☠️

pics and vids for attention (hi I’m high pls tword the shit out of me)