#like this is just paperwork this is just closing it out this is just getting your reward

[shaisuki]

pleasantries

CONTENT WARNINGS. anxiety + references of cheating + power play

NOTE. yay! updated this one and more to come? seriously i don't know how to continue this.

SYNOPSIS.

chapters one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

you hate overtime. you finally understand what nanami meant when he said it to you one time while he visited you to look after the twins. you remember it was a cold night and he's hanging his coat in a spare chair of your house while the twins were still crawling. their little bodies wrapped around your legs, afraid that you'll leave them but you won't. they're just that clingy and needy to you, their mother. you appreciate nanami when he took the time to look after the twins like they were his own but you thrown that thought away. you made clear that as much as you appreciate nanami when he helps you of raising the twins, it is not his responsibility. it is yours and nanami respected that which you are grateful for.

late nights at this office made you miss the twins and haibara and nanami. you began to wonder what they're doing right now. the twins were surely sleeping after being tucked by their uncle haibara and nanami, you were not so sure. he could just be out and doing his stuff. the unfinished paperworks was sure you were not getting home anytime soon but certain circumstances may push you to finish this tasking paperworks.

your eyes glazed at the screen in front of you. not even the blue light saved you from getting your eyes strained and the impending headache is already building up throughout your skull. a soft hiss leaving your mouth as you blink your eyes and taking your eyes off the screen. you need to take a break, away from this.

“take a break, will you?” a voice popped beside you. playful and concerned the tone is but it almost made your heart crash and your body freeze. a shaky breath escaping your lips. from your reaction it was like a serial killer hunting you had found you and got you cornered with no means of escape. a thousand anamnesis briefly flashed through every corners of your brain. the long buried came surfacing and it took was just his and presence of your former bully now ceo of the company where you work at.

you firmly planted your feet on the floor before using it as a leverage to push the chair you sit to gain a not-so-rude distance to your boss. placing your hands in your lap before clenching it to fist to calm yourself and to stop the small tremors of your hands. might as well to stop your legs from bouncing. “i-i was about to. i'm c-close to finishing.” you stammer. wincing at the way you spoke internally and trying not to cringe.

the dimness of the office floor and the sudden drop of temperature didn't do anything to ease your nervousness and realizing that you were the only one left except with him. the dark glasses he wore did nothing to conceal the color of his eyes and it was lighter with the dimness surrounding both of you. it only brought you bad memories and you don't want to lose composure because of it. “you didn't change. you were always the diligent one. keep doing that and you will might be my favorite employee.” he scoffs at what he said. clearing his throat. “scratch that, you are my favorite.” grabbing a nearby chair for him to sit down and the chair seems to be smaller than it was from the his huge stature made it. he sat and faces you. your knees almost bumping but you recoiled at the closeness.

it didn't escape gojo's gaze at the action. a pang of a pain that he didn't recognize blooms in his heart and he didn't like it. he was sure the building would be empty minus the staffs who maintains the cleanliness in their designated spot. he was wrong. when he stops at your floor to check up on you or think of whatever gift he can leave at your desk, he found you. working tirelessly at whatever work you need to do. thus, a chance was presented to him. it's a chance to get you closer and crack the tough exterior you have. he was redeeming himself to you. however it was difficult seeing how you defend yourself from him. afraid that he'll harm you again but it was past like that. he wasn't his past self and so are you.

“are you not going home?” you ask him. he gave you a quick shake of his head. “i'm not until you're finished.” he reasons. part of it true and a lie. there's no rush to go home when all that awaits for him is the coldness of his penthouse. spacious and designed for his taste. it's devoid of warmth and sayuri wasn't too fond of it and he wasn't with his fiancee. sayuri's spoiled and even with the few hints of her being there, it bothers him. what he needs is someone. someone who can share a home with him and the answer's in front of him.

there's no use arguing to him. he's your boss and you can't say that his presence is unneeded and you did what's best. ignoring him like he didn't exist but it's impossible that he's dead staring at you. watching your every move. waiting for you to fumble and that brings the unnecessary anxiety you have been feeling lately.

since when's the last time he had the chance to look at you like this, gaze at you like you hung the moon and stars and even more than three years had passed since he last saw you, there isn't a bit that you had changed except maybe for the weight that you gained more and the look in your eyes. despite the uncertainty with how things have been for you since you stepped in his company and meeting them two, there's a look of fierceness in them like you're protecting someone and needing the strength to protect them and it's the look he have seen from his mother. a thousand times she did when he needs her. shielding from his father's demanding orders about him being his protege, his heir. the days would come back haunt him if his father had seen as his son. his blood and nothing else but a child of his own.

it's a memory he didn't want to think of, now he took over of his family's legacy. he should be focusing on what's present in front of him and he gladly drowns in your presence. looking at you and memorizing every inch of your features. still in his position he can see that natural eyelashes of yours, the roundness of your eyes and when they look at him, he gets a little weak. gojo would like to brush his nose against to yours. feel the roundness of your cheeks like he did when you slept in a little the morning after he and suguru had ravaged you. takes a glance at your sleeping figure and he didn't realize that he was already admiring you and he would like to kiss you once again. the softness of your lips in his while he takes you fully. it will come a long way before he can do that again. forgiveness isn't a easy thing to do and he regrets it a little bit of how he treated you.

enthralled by the menial tasks you were doing, the beep of the monitor shutting down brought him back. you were packing up and sorting the folders and putting them by the small rack of your desk for tomorrow's use. you didn't wait for him after you've slotted your chair below the space of your desk. walking towards the elevators and he follows suit. pressing the button for ground floor. there's only a ding and then the casual whir of the elevator. none of you dared to break the silence despite gojo's chatty nature. not wanting to make you uncomfortable furthermore and he only looks at the reflection of you both in the elevator doors.

ding!

the elevator stopped before opening its doors. you both stepped out and made way through the exit of the building. the cold night air hits you both. nipping the skin that is left uncovered. the young ceo glanced at his watch before looking at you. “shall i escort you home?” you were quick to dismiss his offer. “no, thank you. i can take myself home.” you say before leaving him in front of the glass doors of his building. you take a pause to your steps. contemplating and you hope you're not going to regret what you're about to say. “thank you for staying with me until i got my work done but please don't make it a habit. i don't want trouble.” you told him. “have a good night.” you slightly bowed as a sign of respect to him, not as a person but as an employee.

you didn't gave him room to reply and you were off. down to the direction of the nearest train station. his car already in front of him before the valet stepped out to give him his keys and before he took off. his blue eyes shimmer behind his dark glasses until he can see no longer of your retreating figure.

the chains make a clanging sound. resonating in the empty room and there's a sharp rattle of the chains mixed with the sound it was making as the sandbag was swung in different directions. it rounded into a circular motion until it was back again to the cause of the movement. steely purple eyes fixated on the poor equipment and anticipating the movement of it coming back to him, his fist collided with it again. followed by more and with a harsh punch, the sandbag broke the chain where it was attached. toppling on the corner with a thud and that was the cue for him to stop. the equipment no longer useful to him.

geto swiped a sweat in his forehead. finding the end of the strip of the cloth wrapped around his hands before pulling it and dumping it to the trash bin. he take a bottled water for him to drink and plopped down the couch. before his lips can taste the water, his phone rang. the caller id flashing in the screen of his phone and geto sighs before swiping to answer the call.

“any progress?” he say without greetings. anticipating the answer on the other end and he hears a shuffle before it was answered. “barely. she's avoiding me. i managed to stay with her after i found out she was staying late.” he can hear the frustrated tone of his friend. “she told me i shouldn't do it. she don't want to be in trouble.” gojo huffs. annoyed how the night ended but at least you talked to him even it was brief. “you are trouble.” suguru chuckles before turning into one of a serious. “it doesn't help you're her boss and you're engaged. they will talk and you know the jealous fits your fiancee have.” gojo rolls his eyes. wiping the fogged mirror he was staring his reflection at. “i know and that means, it's going well with you?” he bites his tongue to stop the sarcastic tone he was about to unleash.

geto thought about it. his past encounters with you and slowly, you were trusting him. it wasn't the result he wanted cause he can be impatient at times and he's dying to feel you once again but progress is still progress. “yeah. she's slowly accepting me.” gojo scoffs and geto hears it. “you want her to open up to you? stop being an entitled asshole to her. show her you're not your past self. being sincere won't cost you anything.” it have and gojo winces at it.

“satoru?” geto hears a feminine voice in the background and he ends the call before he can hear anything else. he thinks of you. he should take you on a date sometimes. one you can't refuse and show you a good time and treat you the way you deserve and see that smile he have been wanting. directed to him and only him. he's the only one that can make you smile and you won't need gojo. he looks at the time. he should be planning to make you his, again.

there's a sudden beep signalling that the call was ended. gojo turned around only to meet his fiancee. standing in the bathroom door. her perfume reeks and her loose waves daintily passed around her shoulders. wearing only a thin nightgown and gojo hides the distaste he have for her. this was an arrangement. both of the families agreed it should be done. sayuri was only her for the night and he can live that. “aren't you going to bed?" her voice too sweet for his tastes. he likes your better. sweet and gentle compared to sayuri's. “just a second.” he says before turning off the light switch and joining her.

“how's your day?”

“the usual.” her fingers came rubbing circles in his chest. she intentionally pulls the straps of her thin nightgown and he wasn't really in the mood and how he can be when all he can think is you. fuck. maybe he can use sayuri and pretend it was you but the delicate features of his fiancee isn't the same as you. a tiny waist and a handful of flesh he can grab. it wasn't enough. he needs you. full and ripe for him to tear apart while you cry his name. he rubs his eyes and looks at sayuri. it would be only temporary. “sayuri?” he call to her. the girl besides him was all ears. “yes?” he would be in trouble if he was to call your name instead of her. “come here.” and without hesitation her lips was on his.

now's the world is getting smaller to you three and you have no excuses of avoiding them. you can endure it. you endured it for the quarter of your whole life, what's the difference if you can do it one more again. now the stakes are higher and you're risking the existence of your children with them. you don't know how it will end but you know you have to protect your twins even it's the last thing you will do.

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[maskedbyghost]

okaay, here's a longer fic about this, it was inspired by 'the hating game'. okay baaiii.

also look at this cute divider made by @gild-ui thank youuuu <33

MDNI!

The base always felt too small when Simon Riley was in the same room as you. Even with a desk separating you, his presence was suffocating, that familiar heat crawling up your neck every time his pen scratched against the paper. Two lieutenants forced to work side by side—Price’s brilliant idea. You hated every second of it.

And Simon wasn’t making it any easier.

“Maybe if you didn’t rush through the report like a rookie, it wouldn’t be full of mistakes,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the stack of papers in front of you.

“I don’t make mistakes,” Simon growled, his voice low, dangerous.

“You do when you’re trying to one-up me, Riley. It’s obvious you’re too focused on trying to be better than me rather than doing your job properly.” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you stared at him sitting at the other side of the office.

“What’s obvious is you overthinking every damn thing,” he shot back, his gaze unwavering. The tension between you thickened as the seconds dragged on in silence.

You clenched your jaw. “If I wasn’t here, you’d screw up half the paperwork.”

He scoffed, shaking his head like you said something stupid. “You think you’re that important?”

You leaned forward, voice dropping just enough to sound like a challenge. “I know I am.”

For a moment, Simon just stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was trying to figure out if you actually believed the words coming out of your mouth.

You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, his hand flexing against the edge of the desk. That’s one point in your favor.

And that’s how you would spend those hours together in the office—locked in a battle of wills. Simon was relentless, always firing back, always pushing your buttons in ways that had your blood boiling.

But you weren’t any better. You knew just how to get under his skin, how to make him scowl, make him grit his teeth in frustration.

It was almost a game at this point.

A twisted game where neither of you ever won, but neither of you ever backed down.

Sometimes, the silence between you was worse. On those days when words felt too heavy, too dangerous, you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him from across the room. Watching the way his hand gripped the pen a little too tightly. The way his shoulders tensed every time you so much as sighed.

He felt it too—this invisible pull, this heat that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over. You hated it. You hated him.

But that didn’t stop your eyes from lingering a second too long on the way his jaw clenched when he was concentrating. Or how his voice dropped to that gravelly tone whenever he was pissed off at you, which, honestly, was most of the time.

You’d stare at the clock, counting the hours until you could escape the office, escape him. But when the end of the day came, and you packed up your things, the idea of walking out and leaving him behind? It didn’t feel as satisfying as it should.

And the worst part was, Simon was starting to notice it too. You could tell by the way his eyes followed you when you left the room, just for a beat longer than usual. Like he was waiting for something to happen.

Something that neither of you wanted to admit was inevitable.

-

One day, while grabbing coffee, you overheard a conversation near the mess hall.

“Yeah, Lieutenant Riley never takes his mask off. It’s weird, honestly—no one’s ever seen his face,” one of the soldiers was saying.

Another chimed in, laughing. “Guy’s is literally a ghost, I swear.”

Never takes his mask off? That couldn’t be right. They were probably exaggerating.

But as you walked back to the office, you thought about it. Simon always had his mask off when you were working together. His face was just… there. Bare. Frustratingly close. You had memorized the angles of his face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his mouth twisted into that infuriating smirk every time he thought he got the better of you.

And yet, apparently, no one else had seen it.

It didn’t make sense.

Why would he take his mask off in front of you, of all people? You were the one person he couldn’t stand.

Wouldn’t he want to hide his face from you too?

The question swirled around in your mind as you entered the office. You glanced at him from across the room. There he was, mask off, eyes focused on the documents in front of him. Just like always.

You couldn’t help but stare. It had become so normal, so routine, that you’d never even questioned it. But now it felt strange—like there was something you weren’t understanding.

And for the first time, you felt that heat in your chest morph into something different. Something closer to curiosity. You hated him, sure, but…

Why was he comfortable enough to show you his face?

You tried to shake it off, but as the hours ticked by, you couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe you had missed something. Maybe this… tension between you wasn’t just hatred after all.

Nope. It is. End of story.

-

If you weren’t stuck in the office together, there was always a mission that forced you to team up. And this mission had been a brutal one—hours of tension, pushing your body and mind to the brink. By the time you returned to the base, every muscle ached, and your throat felt like sandpaper. The adrenaline was still buzzing in your veins, but the exhaustion was creeping in fast.

You dropped your gear by the door, running a hand through your sweaty hair, trying to shake off the weight of it all.

Across the room, Simon was silent as always, stripping off his tactical vest without so much as a glance your way. Normally, the lack of acknowledgment would piss you off, like he was pretending you didn’t exist. But today, you didn’t have the energy to pick a fight. You just wanted a moment to breathe.

Just as you sat down, feeling the tension in your shoulders starting to ease, something flew through the air toward you. You blinked, catching it instinctively—a bottle of water.

Simon stood a few feet away, his face unreadable. He didn’t say a word, just resumed his routine, as if the small gesture didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

Coming from him, it felt almost significant, a crack in the cold, indifferent wall he always put up.

-

A few days later, another soldier swung by your office to drop off some paperwork, and as he handed it over, you exchanged a few lighthearted jokes. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Simon watching, his expression darkening as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

As soon as the soldier left, Simon’s glare was unmistakable. He didn’t even bother hiding it this time, the tension between you two cranking up a notch.

“You done playing the comedian?” he asked, his voice flat but carrying a sharp edge.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

Simon didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “Didn’t realize you needed to put on a show every time someone walked into the room.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is being civil a crime now? Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Civil?” He finally looked at you, his eyes narrowing. “More like you were trying way too hard to impress him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone walks around with a permanent scowl, Riley. Some of us actually know how to interact with other human beings.”

He let out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, ‘cause flirting’s definitely the way to do that.”

Your mouth dropped open, a mix of shock and annoyance flooding you. “Flirting? Seriously? That’s what you think that was?”

He shrugged, his gaze flicking back to the papers in front of him. “Call it whatever you want. Just do it on your own time.”

You stared at him, once again letting his words frustrate you. “God, you’re unbelievable.”

-

The tension in the office was high as you and Simon argued again, this time about mission details. Papers were scattered across the desk, and the air was thick with frustration.

“You can’t just disregard the protocol like that!” you snapped.

Simon leaned back, crossing his arms. “And you can’t keep overanalyzing everything! Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.”

“Instincts?” You shot him a look that could kill. “Is that what you call reckless decision-making? Because that’s how people get hurt.”

He stepped closer, his expression intense. “You think I don’t care about the team?”

“Right now, it looks like you’re more focused on proving you’re some kind of hero than actually doing your job,” you said, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, please! Don’t act like you’re the moral authority here,” he fired back, his voice rising. “You’re so busy trying to play it safe that you’re missing the bigger picture!”

You clenched your jaw, feeling your heart race with anger. “The bigger picture? You mean the one where you get us all killed because you refuse to follow my plan?”

Simon’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you both stood there, breathing heavily, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, as if a dam had broken, he surged forward, closing the distance between you.

“Maybe you need to realize that not everything goes according to plan,” he said, his voice low, intensity radiating off him. “Sometimes you have to adapt on the go.”

“And that’s supposed to justify your carelessness?” you shot back, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Carelessness? You think I’m careless?” His voice was sharp, but there was something deeper there, a flicker of something that made you hesitate. “You think you’re better than me just because you follow the rules?”

You glared at him, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “It’s not about being better. It’s about being smart.”

His gaze softened for just a moment, and in that moment, everything shifted. The air between you crackled with something more than anger, something raw and undeniable.

Before you had time to process it, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled you closer, closing the distance until there was barely any space left between you. Your heart raced, caught between surprise and something dangerous.

And then, without another word, his lips crashed against yours, igniting everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss was fierce and urgent, a collision of emotions that sent your mind spinning. It was as if all the frustrations and tensions of the past had fused into this single moment, pouring into the way he held you, the way he kissed you.

You responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, and the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in a heated embrace, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Everything felt right and completely wrong at the same time, but for that brief moment, nothing else mattered but the connection you shared.

When you pulled away, breathless and flushed, his hand still holding your neck, eyes dark and unreadable.

Finally, you smiled, breaking the tension. “Still hate you,” you whispered teasingly, leaning closer.

“Then you’re really going to hate how good this feels,” he shot back, his voice low, and before you could respond, he closed the distance again.

----------------------------------------------------------

i think we need a smuty scene with these two. agree??

----------------------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[weskie]

domestic? got you.

wesker cockwarming you when he takes a day to read paperwork at home. you're a great lapwarmer, so when you complain that you're thirsty and need to do your own things, he gets his own water bottle while unpointedly ranting about how distracting you are, honestly, takes a large sip, makes you corkscrew in his lap (and grunts a little, hot breath fanning you), forces his face together with yours and gives you the most dominating, spit-bubble-filled kiss.

The front of your shirt gets wet.

you turn back around red as a beet and he has to hold you close against him so that you don't drip water all over his important Umbrella papers.

he privately wonders to himself what the fuck just came over him to do something so messy, but waves it off as silly oxytocin and a helping of serotonin from your too-gracious rocking. he'll have to discipline you better next time.

-

also, when you wobble in his lap, he steps on your foot and growls a little to make you stay still.

if he's feeling deeply focused and generous he'll lean forward just enough, grab your jaw with one hand to keep it steady (and because he likes the way you tense and huff), and begin reading off the results of his paper in your ear, so close, deep and breathy that you can feel the hot breath against the shell of it and smell nicotine and mint. he likes when you ask what different things mean and he gets to explain them to you while purring and rolling his hips into you.

but watch out, ask too many dumb questions so you get more rolling and he'll harmlessly degrade you about how stupid you must be. what idiot doesn't know what "n =" means? you must be asking because you want more stimulation, right? that's it, dearheart... tell him what you want... use your words...

...

he just gives a sadistic laugh, lets your jaw go, and goes back to reading like he never asked. but you feel his hips tense.

ok sorry for making it really long i just have Thoughts about this man.

probably pretty OOC. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.. <:3c ...

THE WATER THING MADE ME WEAK IN THE KNEES LIKE HELLO???

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

wesker I'm thirsty pspspssps

[ha-rinrin]

The Festival

Paring- Jinx X F!Reader

Word count- 31.3k

summary- You're a respected member of the university council, known for your leadership skills and organization. What happens when Jinx, the popular and chaotic students needs your help to set up a wide tech festival?

A little peak to my ao3 fan fiction

You flipped trough the pile of paperwork across the council meeting room. It was the usual chaos, request for funding from various student organizations, complains about the cafeteria's latest attempt at "healthy options," and proposals for next semester’s big events. The list seemed endless, but you were used to it. You thrived in this environment, where order and structure ruled. Here, everything was under control, and that was exactly how you liked it.

Just as your mind starts to drift, Derek, your fellow council member, groans from across the table. "Great. Guess who submitted a new proposal?"

You glance up, knowing the answer before the words even leave his mouth.

"Jinx," he mutters, flipping through a folder. "The campus wildcard."

The mention of Jinx’s name is enough to make everyone shift uncomfortably, and you can feel the tension rise between two of your fellow council members—Vi and Caitlyn. Vi, Jinx’s big sister, sits up a little straighter, her jaw tightening. Caitlyn crosses her arms and lets out a quiet huff of disapproval, she has never been a fan of Jinx.

Your stomach tightens. Jinx is infamous around here. Known for her chaotic energy and wild stunts, she’s the kind of person everyone’s aware of but few actually know. You’ve heard the stories—who hasn’t?—about her explosives demonstrations in the engineering labs, her graffiti art that somehow makes it past security, and the parties that erupt wherever she goes, filled with loud music, dangerous experiments, and neon lights that pulse through the night.

You’ve never directly interacted with her, but as a council member, you’ve cleaned up the aftermath of her stunts more times than you’d like to count.

You reach for her proposal, already dreading what’s inside. "What does she want this time?" she's known for submitting.. well, interesting ideas, one time she send a whole plan on how turning lecture halls into laser tag arenas was such a great idea

Derek slides the file toward you, and you open it, skimming the pages. It’s a proposal for a campus-wide tech festival—robotics demonstrations, live engineering projects, interactive art installations. It’s… ambitious. You can already see the potential for things going disastrously wrong. And of course, there’s an after-party planned. A massive one. but you have to admit, it is a great idea.

"This looks…" you hesitate, unsure whether to call it reckless or brilliant. "Ambitious."

Caitlyn, sitting across from you, scoffs. "Ambitious is one word for it. Catastrophic is another."

Vi shoots her a look, her jaw clenched but silent. Caitlyn doesn’t look fazed. If anything, she seems more annoyed. Caitlyn has never hidden her disdain for Jinx. The chaos Jinx brings to the campus makes Caitlyn’s job on the council infinitely harder, and you’ve heard her vent more than once about how Jinx’s antics undermine the structure Caitlyn and Vi work to maintain.

Still, you can feel the unspoken tension between Vi and Caitlyn every time Jinx comes up. Vi tries to stay neutral, but the protective instinct over her sister is always just beneath the surface.

"Ambitious? More like a disaster waiting to happen," Derek adds, rolling his eyes. "You know how she is. The university won’t let her get within a mile of an event this big without strict supervision."

You sigh, knowing they’re right. Jinx is brilliant, no doubt about that. Her projects, when they work, are incredible. But they almost never come without some sort of explosive twist—sometimes literally. The administration has a close eye on her, and every time she gets close to doing something huge, they pull the reins back, worried about the potential chaos she might unleash.

"I’ll talk to her," you say, closing the file and tucking it under your arm. "See if we can rein in some of these wilder ideas."

You find yourself in the engineering building later that afternoon, a place you rarely visit. The labs are noisy and full of students rushing to meet deadlines, their arms filled with wires, tools, and half-constructed machines. You navigate through the maze of equipment until you find the lab Jinx is rumored to haunt.

The door is slightly open, and you push it gently, stepping inside.

The scene inside is exactly what you’d expect from Jinx. It’s a mess—no, it’s a war zone of wires, gears, tools, and half-assembled robots scattered across every surface. Sparks fly from one corner, where Jinx herself is hunched over a piece of equipment. Her neon-blue hair is pulled into two messy insanely long braids, goggles perched on her forehead, and she’s completely engrossed in whatever she’s working on.

"Jinx?" you call, your voice hesitant.

She doesn’t look up. "If you’re here to tell me I can’t use explosive fuel cells, save it. I already know."

You blink, thrown off by her casual, sarcastic tone. "No… I’m here about your tech festival proposal."

That gets her attention. Jinx straightens up, pushing her goggles up higher and turning to face you. There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as she grins, clearly pleased with herself. "Oh, that. You council types finally got around to reading it, huh?. About time"

"Yeah, we did," you say annoyed at her comment, stepping into the room carefully, avoiding stray wires and tools as if one wrong step might set off something dangerous. "It’s… ambitious."

Jinx leans back against a cluttered workbench, crossing her arms. "Ambitious is just another word for fun."

"Ambitious is also another word for risky," you counter, trying to keep your tone calm. "The administration has concerns. Especially with your… reputation."

She raises an eyebrow at that, her grin widening. "My reputation? I like to think of myself as the one who makes things interesting."

"Or destructive," you mutter under your breath. Louder, you say, "Look, the council wants to support your idea, but we need guarantees. We can’t have another one of your projects going… rogue."

Jinx’s eyes spark with amusement. "Rogue? That sounds fun. But I get it. You’re here to babysit me, make sure everything stays neat and tidy just as you councils love to do."

"I’m here to help make sure your event doesn’t get shut down before it even starts," you correct her. "The university won’t approve this unless there’s a plan in place to keep things under control."

She’s silent for a moment, her gaze studying you as if she’s trying to decide whether you’re worth her time. Then, to your surprise, she shrugs. "Fine. I’ll play nice. But don’t expect me to turn this into some boring expo where everything’s by the book like you want it to be."

"That’s not what I’m asking," you say, your frustration slipping through despite your best efforts to remain calm. "I’m asking for balance. Something fun and innovative, without… explosions or absolute chaos like you "love to do" ."You quote her, already feeling an intense irritation.

"Explosions make things exciting," she quips, but there’s a softness in her tone now, a hint of cooperation. "But okay, councilor. We’ll do it your way. For now."

You exhale, relieved but still wary. "I’ll get the council to review the budget and schedule a final approval meeting. We’ll need to talk logistics."

"Sounds like a date," she says, and the way her eyes twinkle as she says it makes your heart skip a beat. "By the way, nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you."

"You… know my name?" you ask, caught off guard.

"Of course I do," Jinx replies, tossing a wrench onto the workbench with a smirk. "You’re practically a campus legend in the council. Always following the rules, keeping things neat and tidy and on top of that being pretty. It’s cute."

You blush at her calling you not just pretty, but also cute. still, you can’t tell if she’s teasing you or complimenting you—or maybe both—but the playful energy she exudes is enough to leave you flustered, you don't ignore the annoyance though . "Right… well, I’ll be in touch."

As you turn to leave, you can feel her eyes on you, that mischievous grin still lingering. And for the first time, you wonder if you’ve gotten yourself into something far more complicated than you’d expected.

The walk back to the council office feels heavier than usual. You’ve dealt with difficult proposals before—unrealistic requests, last-minute event ideas, student groups that didn’t know how to handle their budgets—but nothing quite like this. Jinx, with her chaotic charm and devil-may-care attitude, had somehow made it feel like agreeing to help her was a far more personal decision than just approving a project.

Back in the council room, Vi and Caitlyn are already waiting, the air between them thick with tension. You can feel it even before you sit down, the awkward space that always opens up between them when Jinx is involved. Caitlyn’s posture is as rigid as ever, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, while Vi looks like she’s been wrestling with something in her mind.

“So?” Caitlyn’s voice is sharp, cutting through the silence as you settle into your chair. “How did it go?”

You hesitate, glancing at Vi, who watches you intently. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s a quiet plea in her expression. She’s stuck in the middle, and you can feel the weight of that as you take a breath.

“She’s willing to compromise,” you say carefully. “She’ll follow our guidelines, but she’s not going to water down the event. It’s still going to be… big.”

“Big,” Caitlyn repeats, her tone flat. “That’s one way to describe it. Let me guess—there’s still an after-party, isn’t there?”

You nod slowly. “Yes, but she’ll cooperate with security measures. No unsupervised explosives. No rogue robots.”

Caitlyn sighs heavily, clearly unimpressed. “And you believe her?”

Vi shifts uncomfortably, her hands tapping against the table as she finally speaks up. “Jinx means well. She just… gets carried away sometimes. But she’ll stick to it. If Y/N’s overseeing things, she’ll fall in line.”

You can hear the underlying frustration in Vi’s voice, the familiar strain of trying to balance loyalty to her sister and the expectations of the council. You’ve seen this dynamic between them before—Vi, fiercely protective of Jinx, but also tired of having to clean up the messes she leaves behind. Caitlyn, on the other hand, is always ready to take a hard line, no matter how much it irritates Vi.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want her involved,” Caitlyn says, her voice tight. “Every time she promises to stay within the lines, she ends up finding a way to blow them up. Literally. And it’s always us who have to clean up the aftermath.”

Vi’s jaw clenches, but she doesn’t snap back. You can tell it’s taking all her patience to hold back her frustration. The room is tense, the air thick with unspoken arguments that have likely played out between them too many times to count.

“Look,” you say, stepping in before things can escalate further, “I’ll be keeping an eye on her. The event will have rules, and she knows the consequences if things get out of hand. I don’t think she’s looking to get herself banned from campus activities.”

Caitlyn lets out a humorless laugh. “Maybe not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if something went wrong. She thrives on chaos.”

Vi shakes her head, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “She’s trying, Caitlyn. She’s not the same as she was back in the day, she's not the same jinx as she was in highscool. She wants this event to work.”

Caitlyn meets her gaze, the tension between them simmering. You’ve seen this argument before, this subtle back-and-forth where neither of them fully wins. You’re caught in the middle of it now, and it’s not a comfortable place to be.

“I’ll keep her in line,” you say again, trying to offer a resolution. “The event will be under control.”

Caitlyn narrows her eyes, but she relents, though her expression remains skeptical. “Fine. But if she steps out of line, it’s on you”

Her words linger longer than they should, the unspoken warning hanging in the air. You nod, not fully understanding the weight of that responsibility. After all, the council is trusting you to make sure this doesn’t become the disaster everyone expects it to be, everything you worked so hard for is at sake now and is on Jinx hands..

nobody was faith in Jinx, well.. except for Vi but she doesn't really count. Highscool Jinx's was something else, she's always been really smart so even after partying all night, drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed on a daily bases, sometimes playing with boys and girls feelings gaining the "school heartbreaker" title, and also getting detention almost every day, she still had the best grades out of all the class. You didn't see her much back then due to being a year above her, but gossip spread fast. Now you’re responsable for any mistake she makes during this festival, great

Continue in ao3

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Grew in my heart

Heres part 2! Part 1 is linked here.

*******************

“Is he ever gonna wake up?”

When Pony wakes it’s to a not hushed enough whisper. 

“Course he is dumbass,” that whisper is a lot quieter, “but he’s little and he’s hurt, he’s real tired.”

“He was fine earlier.”

“He was overwhelmed,” the voice corrects, “he was bound to crash sooner or later.”

Ponyboy blinks his eyes open. Soda, Darry, and Johnny are all in a line in chairs watching him, but they quickly pretend to be busy. Doing what, he isn’t sure. He already caught them looking.

“There’s those darling eyes,” Mrs.Curtis’ voice is soft as she smiles down at him, “how did you sleep, honey?”

“Good.” He mumbles through a yawn, somehow still tired, more cozy than he can ever remember being. Somehow though, he still finds himself shy again, and he hides his face in her shoulder until she laughs, peppering his head with kisses and squeezing him gently, coaxing him out of the fabric. He lets himself enjoy it. It won’t last, he knows, but he can let himself pretend, have some good memories to hold close to his chest when he ends up alone tonight in a stranger's house, on a lumpy sofa in a yet another spooky, cold basement. 

“Curtis family?” Suddenly, the door to the office across from Ms. Summers opens and a lady with curly hair Ponyboy has seen a few times in the past when he’s been in the waiting room sticks her head out. She smiles the way Ms.Summers does, in a way that never really reaches her eyes, “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ve got the paperwork all ready here, I just need the mother and father’s signatures, and then you just need to get it signed by a judge to make everything official.”

“We’ll be right back,” Mrs.Curtis promises them all, standing up and placing Ponyboy down on her chair but not before kissing his cheek almost absentmindedly, the way he’d seen moms at the park near Mr.Fuller’s house do with their babies sometimes, “be good boys for me.”

“Darry, keep an eye on your brothers, will you?” Mr Curtis adds, and Darry nods easily from where he’s lounging in his seat, reading a magazine.

“Does Johnny need to come in too?” Mrs.Curtis wonders as she follows the social worker into the office.

“He can if he wants to, but it’s not necessary for this part.”

“Well Johnnycake?” That was Mr.Curtis, looking at Johnny like he was the whole dang world, and Pony feels the same hatred from earlier bubbling up inside him, which definitely wasn’t fair, especially after Johnny and Mrs.Curtis and all of them had been so very nice to him all day. “Whaddya say? You wanna come with us or wait here with your brothers? We won’t be long.”

Johnny kind of shrinks with everyone's eyes on him. Pony knows the feeling.

“I’ll stay out here.”

“Ok kiddo,” Mr Curtis ruffles Johnny’s hair and follows his wife into the office. 

Even though he has no reason to be worried, the sight of the closed office door with its faded paint and frosted windows makes Ponyboy’s heart sink. Logically he knows its stupid, that something good is happening behind it, that it’s making it so Johnny can get adopted, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s the same door that closed behind his mother when the state made her sign away custody of him, and that it’s the same office every foster parent who ever returned him ran to as soon as they stepped inside the child services centre.

“Hey,” Johnny nudges him gently, keeping his voice low so Soda and Darry- who appear to be arguing, though Ponyboy can’t tell what about- can’t hear, “you ok?”

Johnny’s got eyes that are inky black and a scar on his head that says maybe he’s got a past life a whole lot like Pony’s current one.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Pony breathes. He glances at the shut door again. 

“That’s okay.” Johnny promises, simple and sure and kind. “You don’t have to know.”

Pony can tell then that Johnny really does understand, maybe more than anyone has ever understood before.

They lapse into silence. Soda appears to be trying to convince Darry to read out the advice column of the magazine, while Darry is doing his best to ignore him and read one of the sports articles. 

“Johnny,” Pony murmurs while Soda is dramatically wailing about the merits of Dear Abby and the plights of many he needs to weigh in on, “can-can I ask you somethin’? You don’t gotta answer if you don’t wanna.”

“Ok.”

“Did they take your mom away too?” 

Johnny doesn’t say anything but his eyes flash dangerously and Pony finds himself trying to explain.

“It’s only- they took my mom. First they took her away in a different police car, and then they took her into Ms.Summers’ office and then she was gone and I wasn’t allowed to see her anymore.”

Johnny raises a hand to his mouth, chews anxiously on his thumbnail.

“Yeah,” He admits softly after a minute, “yeah they took her. My dad too.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

Ponyboy kicks his legs, trying his best not to glance at Johnny. He often had trouble meeting people’s eyes, but that went double anytime he was uncomfortable.

“What about your dad?” Johnny asks after a minute, looking anywhere but at Ponyboy.

Pony blinks. “What about him?”

“Did they take him too?”

“No,” Ponyboy shakes his head, “he’s in jail. I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” Ponyboy shrugs. It really is too. He didn’t spend much time thinking about his dad, mostly because he usually forgot he ever had one. 

“Pony?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever miss your mom?”

“Yeah,” Pony admits quietly. It feels blasphemous, even as he says it, but it is true, “sometimes. But I still don’t ever wanna go back to living with her ever again.”

Mom was cold and mean with her vicious hands and quick temper, for all she could be nice sometimes. She’d pressed his hand to the hot stove once and threw stuff at him everyday, even if she did read him bedtime stories a few times a week. He’d had worse foster parents since they took him away, but not by much, and those people weren’t his mom. It made sense they didn’t want him. It never made sense why she didn’t.

“Me neither,” Johnny agrees.

“It’s different though,” Pony points out, “you got the Curtis’ now. No wonder you don’t wanna go back.”

“It ain’t different,” Johnny glares, and suddenly he looks like every kid in every group home Pony’s ever met, mean and defeated, “it don’t change the fact she didn’t love me even when I wanted her to.”

“Hey you two,” Darry’s suddenly in front of them, hands on his hips and a frown on his face, “how come you’re arguin’?”

They both hesitate.

“I was bein’ mean,” Pony admits, shamefaced, looking straight at Johnny, “You’re right it ain’t different. I’m sorry Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyes stay hard for a second until they melt back to something soft.

“It’s okay.”

He understands. Pony sighs, relieved.

“Ok,” Darry looks confused, “ well. Glad y’all are good.” 

He sits down again.

Pony can’t help it. He giggles.

“What’re you laughin’ at, huh kid?” Darry sounds mad but he’s smiling as he says it, so Pony thinks maybe he’s only pretending to be.

“Your face.”

“My face?”

“Yeah,” Pony says, “you look funny.” He demonstrates, pulling an exaggerated version of Darry’s puzzled frown, and Johnny laughs.

“Funny huh?”  Darry exchanges a grin with Soda, Johnny perking up beside him, eyes lighting in understanding, “we’ll show you funny.”

The next thing Pony knows he’s being tickled to death, all three older boys teaming up against him until he’s squealing and red faced from laughter, begging for mercy.

“What on earth is going on out here?”

Pony freezes. Darry, Soda, and Johnny all do too.

Ms.Summers has emerged from her office, hands propped on her hips, eyes blazing. She looks mad. Proper mad. The kind of mad adults get before they slap him or send him to bed without food.

Without really meaning to, Pony scoots a little behind Darry.

“Sorry ma'am,” Darry steps a bit more in front of him, putting himself in front of Soda and Johnny too, and gives Ms.Summers a winning smile, “we were just playin’ around. We didn’t mean to get so loud. We’ll be more quiet from now on.”

“See to it that you do. Where are your parents?”

“Signing some paperwork with your colleague, ma’am.”

“Hm,” Ms. Summers huffs, “well, behave yourselves until they get back. Ponyboy, if you can’t be good you’ll have to sit in the corner again without your new friends. Do you understand?”

Ponyboy forces himself to meet her gaze. She never liked it when he was impolite, and that meant he had to look at her when he was speaking.

“Yes ma’am,” he manages, just barely above a mumble. Ms.Summers hates mumbling.

“Good.” She gives them one last severe look and closes her office door with a snap.

As soon as she’s gone Soda starts snickering.

“Did you see her face?” He pulls an exaggerated frown, eyebrows scrunched down and cheeks puffed out a bit, and props his hands on hips the way Ms.Summers had a second a minute ago.

 “Stop bein’ loud!” He mocks in a high falsetto, a poor approximation of Ms.Summer’s actual voice, “no havin’ fun on my watch!”

Pony laughs. He’s learning that Darry wasn’t wrong earlier when he said Soda was just like that. 

“Ok, ok, settle down,” Darry chides, but even he cracks a grin, “c’mon and sit again, and I’ll read out that stupid advice column.”

“It’s not stupid!” Soda protests, but he obeys, pulling Johnny down beside him. It seems almost reflexive, Soda dragging Johnny around absentmindedly and the shorter boy following him without question. 

“You too kid,” Darry nudges Pony gently, “come sit.”

Pony sits and tries to listen to Darry’s soothing baritone, but finds he can’t quite focus on the story. Instead, he worries. 

Mrs. and Mr. Curtis are still in the social worker’s office but he can’t imagine they will be for much longer, and when they come back out the papers will be signed and Johnny will officially be theirs, and they’ll leave.

Ponyboy really doesn’t want them to leave. Not Mrs.Curtis, who’d held him in her arms and let him sleep on her lap, or Mr.Curtis, who never looked scary even when he was stern, and whose eyes were always laughing, even when they shouldn't be. He doesn’t want Soda and his effervescent energy to leave, returning the waiting room to the same, stuffy, suffocating place it always was before today. He doesn’t want Johnny to leave, even though he’s happy for him, because Johnny wasn’t mean but he also understood things, and that was something Pony had never found in any other person, ever. Most of all, he doesn’t want Darry to leave, because Darry just saved him from Ms.Summers like some sort of superhero, and because he’d never been mean to him. Every other teenager Pony came into contact with hurt him or ignored him, but Darry Curtis hadn’t, not once.

He knew this would happen. As soon as he put down his book and went over to play cards he knew he’d get attached. He can feel hot tears prick at his eyes but he blinks them away rapidly. He’s not some stupid little baby. He is not going to cry just because one family was nice to him for one day and now he doesn’t ever want to see them go. That’s stupid.

Maybe he should go back to the corner. Tell Darry he isn’t feeling well and hide behind Great Expectations until they’re gone. It might hurt less if he could do the leaving first.

He’s still psyching himself up to move away from Darry’s soothing voice when the social worker’s door flies open. Instead of the Curtis’ leaving though, the curly haired social worker hurries out, casting a curious glance in their direction as she knocks on Ms.Summers’ door.

“Keisha, could you give me a hand with something, please?”

“Of course.” Ms.Summers emerges from her office looking equally as puzzled, and follows her coworker into the other office.

Johnny and Pony exchange a look. He can see the alarm in the older boy’s black eyes and wishes he could reassure him, but anything he said would sound false to his own ears. Any kid who’s ever been in the foster system knows that things go badly when the social workers start acting like that.

“What’s goin’ on?” Soda sounds scared, looking up at Darry with wide, frightened eyes, “they ain’t…I mean, they promised Johnny could stay for good, right Dar? They said they got the papers and everythin’.”

“Everything’s fine,” to his credit, Darry sounds so sure Ponyboy could almost believe him, “Johnny’s ours for sure, that ain’t in question.”

He ruffles Johnny’s hair, and the dark haired boy manages a weak grin, but Ponyboy can still see the panic he’s trying to hide in the way his hands are trembling, tucked under his thighs. He doesn’t believe him, not really. Pony doesn’t either. Pretty lies are and always will be just that: lies.

“Y’know…” Darry looks at the closed office door, something like realization dawning, “I think things’re gonna be more than ok actually.”

“What do you mean?” Soda wonders. 

Darry shakes his head, suddenly fighting a grin. It’s such a stark 180 from the worry he was trying to hide a second ago it’s a little startling.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Darry!”

“Seriously, little buddy, don’t worry about it.”

“You oughta tell me,” that was Johnny, voice small, “if you know something I don’t. It’s my life we’re talking about here.”

“You’re gonna be just fine Johnnycake,” Darry promises, “I mean it. We all are.”

They will be. Pony is glad for them, as much as he can be- which currently isn’t much, with the envy and the loneliness battling for dominance in his gut. 

“All of us.” Darry looks right at him, blue green eyes bright, “that means you too Ponyboy.”

He’s trying to be nice. Ponyboy knows he’s trying to be nice, but it still stings knowing their fine is so much better than his own. Their kind of fine meant love and safety and warmth. His meant survival and a half decent dinner. Sure, they’d all be fine. But not the same.

He’s saved from having to say anything by the office door opening.

“-tell him.” Mrs.Curtis is saying, Mr Curtis beside her with a thick manilla envelope and a smile shining brighter than the sun.

“There’s my boy,” Pony thinks Mr Curtis looks like a boy himself, his handsome face young, open and  joyous as he crosses the room in three steps and sweeps Johnny into a bear hug, picking him up and swinging him around, “how does it feel to officially be Johnny Curtis, huh?”

Soda perks up.

“It’s official?”

“Signed and sealed,” Mr. Curtis presses a kiss to Johnny’s hair and sets him down, but keeps an arm around his shoulders, “just gotta file these with the judge downtown.”

Soda cheers, and Darry lets out a whoop, both of them swarming Johnny and Mr.Curtis, half tackling them until they’re all wrapped up in one group hug, and it’s the best thing Ponyboy’s ever seen and all he wants to do is cry.

A touch on his head has him flinching away before he realizes it’s just Mrs.Curtis gently carding her fingers through his hair, watching her husband and three sons fondly before looking down at him.

“They’re real special, aren’t they?”

“Yes ma’am.” Pony agrees. 

She hums, and Pony can’t help but lean into her gentle touch. They’ll be leaving soon. She’ll be leaving soon. It’s okay, he thinks, to enjoy her kindness as long as possible. He’d already tried not to, and it hadn’t worked. Trying to ignore Mrs.Curtis’ love was like trying to ignore his growling stomach on the nights he went to bed hungry. No matter how hard he tried to forget it, when he next got a taste of food he couldn’t help himself from eating as much as he could stomach, simply because he didn’t know how long it would be until his next proper meal.

“Y’know,” Mrs. Curtis says, “I think you’re pretty special too.”

Her smile changes, still soft but now there’s a secret hiding in her eyes, and a specific kind of love Pony doesn’t understand pulling at the dimple in her cheek. 

“I talked to Ms.Summers,” she says, and Pony’s heart twists. Ms.Summers has a way of making him into a bother to people who don’t even know him. He doesn’t want Mrs.Curtis to think that, “and she said you don’t have anyone to go home to tonight. So I thought maybe you might wanna come home with me and the boys.”

His heart stops.

“W-what?”

“Well,” she sounds almost casual, but her shining eyes and mischievous grin give away how false it is, like Darry’s had when they were playing cards earlier, an actor on life’s stage, “there’s an extra bed in Darry’s room, now that Johnny and Soda have bunk beds, and some chocolate cake in the fridge I really think you’d like. Besides, Soda and Johnny are always talkin’ about how they wished they had a little brother to teach things to, and I know they had a ball playin’ cards with you earlier. So what do you say? You want to come stay with us for a while?”

He wants to. More than anything he wants to. It sounds like a dream come true, like a storybook come to life. He lets himself imagine it, sharing a room with Darry of all people, eating chocolate cake with Mrs.Curtis, and getting to play with Soda and Johnny who actually liked him, maybe even not having to worry about being slapped all the time.

“Why?” he has to know. It doesn’t make sense why she would offer this. She has enough little boys, with Soda, Johnny and Darry. Why would she want him too? “Why would you wanna take me? You don’t need me.”

She wasn’t like Mr.Fuller, who’d needed an extra hand to help out on the farm, or Mrs. Delvine who had three babies and no husband. Mrs.Curtis has a husband who looks at her like she hung the stars and three boys already to help her out with chores. She doesn’t need him. It doesn’t make sense.

“Oh honey,” her eyes get sad, and Pony hates himself for making them that way even if he doesn’t know what exactly it is that he did, “I think I do need you. I think all of us do. But more than that I think you need me.”

“I ain’t your baby,” Pony reminds her, because it feels like maybe she’s forgotten that, and it doesn’t matter if he feels like he does need her, because she ain’t his mom and she doesn’t deserve to be stuck with him. “You got no reason to be stuck with me.”

“Hmm,” her mouth presses into a thin line, but she doesn’t look angry. Stern maybe, but that doesn’t feel quite right either, “you cried in my arms and slept on my knee, so I think you are my baby now, at least a little bit. I got more babies than just the three I brought with me today, and I needed all of them just as much as they needed me. So.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she cups his cheek, “there’s Soda’s friend Steve, and Darry’s friend Keith, and Johnny’s friend Dally. And they’ve all cried in my arms and slept on my knee at least once, and they always come stay at my house whenever they need. And they didn’t grow in my belly but they grew in my heart and they’re still my babies anyway. So I think you could be too. If you want.”

If he wants. Ponyboy is used to wanting things, and even more used to not getting any of them, but he can be one of Mrs.Curtis’ babies if he wants. 

“Really?”

“Really.” She promises.

“Ok,” he breathes, “ok, yes, I’ll go with you.”

“We’re keeping Ponyboy too?” Soda whoops, half jumping on Mrs.Curtis in his excitement,  “this is the best day ever!”

“I knew it,” Darry claims, shaking his head at his parents but grinning all the same, “I knew as soon as that other social worker got called in there that you two just couldn’t leave him here if you tried.”

He knuckles Pony’s hair and grins down at him, inviting him to share the joke. Pony thinks he might actually be dreaming, because he still can’t quite bring himself to believe this is happening, that he’s gonna stay with the Curtis’.

“I’m real glad you’re coming with us,” Johnny murmurs in his ear, as Ms.Summers hands Mr.Curtis  Pony’s file and his meagre backpack of belongings, before bidding him a perfunctory farewell.  Ponyboy can’t help but agree. He’s real glad he’s going with them too.

It won’t last forever. Hell, it might not even last a week. They could get sick of him or he could get moved anytime, but as Mrs.Curtis takes his hand, and he follows the Curtis family out of the family services office and towards his latest new life, Ponyboy Hewitt lets himself believe for the first time that maybe, somehow, this fairytale might last. 

[angelicribbons]

I know your ask box is closed, I'm so sorry for this, but you don't have to start working on it now. I just thought about it, and I want to share before I forget. Imagine being tiny and deciding we want to play hide and seek with Dada Vox. Obviously, we can't verbalize it, and he's caught up working, so we just crawl off to a hiding spot and wait. When Vox comes to check on us (because we're being a little too quiet), he freaks out that we're gone to another part of the tower. But before he can check the cameras to get our location, he hears us giggling and realises what we were doing. Relieved, he plays into the fake panic for a little bit before catching us in our hiding spot and starts tickling us for scaring him.

-🍼☺️

CUTE CUTE!! And dw, I get it!! I always love your ideas!!!!

Claws clicking against keys rang throughout the room. You were crawling around, trying to find something to do. Before you smiled as an idea rang through your head. You shuffled out of the office and into the main room. You were surrounded by employees rushing with big loads of paperwork in their hands, the elevator dinging as people rushed out. The noise made you dizzy, you sprinted off and hid in the closet next to Vox’s office. You’d make it easy first! Dada wasn’t always the brightest. After a couple minutes of typing away, Vox finally cleared all his emails. When his fingers stopped, he paused. The eerie silence being a wave crashing to his nonexistent ears. You were always noisy. Babbling, giggling, the pitter patter of your little crawls. He looked behind him and panic shot through his chest as he realized you weren’t in his office. He rushed out of his door and looked around the halls. Fuck fuck, why is this place so huge?! How long had you been missing for?! Rang through Vox’s mind as he circled back to the hallway. Before he could move back to his office to look at his cameras, you must of heard the footsteps near and you giggled. Vox quickly turned to the where the sound came from. He could see your little feet in the little sliver under the closet doors. An audible sigh left him. “Now where is that little troublemaker?! Oh my Lucifer, they really could be aaanywhere!!!” Vox dramatically imitated himself as another giggled passed your lips. Slowly, he stomped towards the closet and pulled back the door. “Ahah!” Vox laughed and crouched down. “I found you!! Now since I found you…” A mischievous grin spread to his screen as bended fingers slowly came to your stomach. “You know what happens to little kids that worry their parents?..” He paused for added suspense before continuing. “The tickle monster gives them a visit!” His feathery light fingers dashed towards your stomach as a howl of laughter came from you both. You desperately tried to squirm away or cover your stomach, to no avail, of course. When you looked like you thoroughly needed a breather, his touches subsided. “I suggest you learned not to scare me so bad now?” You just giggled and looked up at him innocently. Vox rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t. What am I gonna do with you?”

[miniagula]

i love that charlie and al are so Touchy i love that he invades personal space as a manipulation tactic and she does it bc she's got no boundaries. ik their office is INSANE

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

i can do this i can do this i can do this (file my taxes a day late) i can do this i can do this if i consume enough coffee i can do this i can do this i can

[yardsards]

living alone is all fun and games til you have a medical emergency and there's no one there to help you to the hospital

[ofcowardiceandkings]

busy trying not to let panicking depresso espresso brain take over my life rn

[vampirerite]

tries to keep drawing and dies

[charonte-simi]

So I received the full inspection report on that house this morning and, contrary to what I was led to believe the day of the inspection, the house is in need of Much greater repairs than I'm able/willing to take on. The report is saying that there is a Major concern/safety hazard regarding the structure, in places that weren't even initially on my radar.

I'm unfortunately going to have to pass on this house :(

[house-in-the-backyard-trees]

For once I would like to work at a place where me calling off doesn't result in a guilt trip. Sorry I'm the only responsible employee there but I was literally hyperventilating at the idea of letting my manager down bc I woke up and instantly started bawling about everything and could not face work. And my stomach has been murdering me from all the anxiety I've been dealing with so I literally can barely function anyway.

[lunarlegend]

okay, i am officially firing my lender for not making me a priority. it's been weeks

i just hired a new one with 50+ 5 star reviews and he is doing my preapproval tomorrow

[eclecticopposition]

someone's gotta make phrygian's triumphant musical theme that comes out in scenes like this and name it A Single Shot

[treypug]

💊