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

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

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

[mcnuggyy]

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

[deityofhearts]

rn I’m getting through life by romanticizing the idea of me living in a bigger city (not like. new york sized but like just one of our bigger neighboring cities) and working as a librarian or library assistant there or something and having a quiet simply life and a regular routine that I go about

[clairdelunelove]

badges of honor

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (sticker drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, protective!ghost

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[strawberrystepmom]

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

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

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

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

“That can be a dangerous thing.”

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

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

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

“I recall.”

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

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

“Let’s do it again.”

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

“Duh, it’ll be fun.”

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

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

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

“For old times sake.”

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

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

Your husband simply chuckles and shakes his head.

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

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

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

“That was weird, right?”

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

“Are we celebrating anything tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a romantic.”

He smirks and wraps your hand in his.

“But I’m your romantic.”

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

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

Laughing, you shrug and squeeze his hand.

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

[soupbabe]

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

The Sinclair Brothers with a Cannibal! S/o

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

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

Bo Sinclair

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vincent Sinclair

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lester Sinclair

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

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

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

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

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

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

[icallhimjoey]

FINISH PART 5 NOWWWWWW ‼️‼️‼️

ALL RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT ‼️‼️‼️ Wordcount: 3.9K

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Mistaken, Not Stirred

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

What the fuck were you doing?

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

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

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

So, you did.

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

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

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

“Joe, what the... oh, my God...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had an inkling, though, and interrupted him.

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

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

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

So, yea, he bought them.

From a store.

Great.

“Joe...”

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

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

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

“I... I’m looking,”

It was silly.

Joe was being silly.

Like this was going to work.

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

It wouldn’t. You knew it wouldn’t.

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

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

“Did– did you steal this?”

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

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

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

Oh, this motherfucker.

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

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

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

Fuck off.

That made your breath go all wobbly.

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

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

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

Time to get to business, then.

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

And so it began.

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

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

You were in his flat.

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

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

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

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

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

Probably never.

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

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

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

He loved it.

And Joe just got to look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because this was exactly what Martin would always do.

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

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

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

That really was fucking good.

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

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

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

And...

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

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

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

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

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

But he didn’t.

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

The mess in Joe’s kitchen grew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise it’s easy,”

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

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

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

Well, that was the plan.

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

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

You were having fun.

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

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

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

It was all of it added up.

All the standing in the way.

All the spilled drinks.

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

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

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

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

Martin knew.

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

And Martin hadn’t told him he knew.

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

Correct.

You were.

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

You probably weren’t going to tell Joe.

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

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

It was getting a little late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joe was fucking adorable.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t need your job back.

You’d find a different job.

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

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

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

Sure, alcohol too. But butterflies, mostly.

A shame.

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

The next day, Martin called you.

Asked for you to come in for a chat.

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

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

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

You thought maybe Joe would text you.

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

But no texts were received and no doorbells were rung.

Just as well.

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

But Joe didn’t get it.

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

Joe thought maybe you’d text him.

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

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

Should he text?

No.

It was Christmas.

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

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

With you, mostly.

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

Were you also thinking of him the whole time?

God.

Should he just text?

Casually wish you a merry Christmas?

Could he do that?

He could, right?

After that night?

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

Why didn’t you want your job back?

Was it him?

Had he done something wrong?

He couldn’t fucking shake it.

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

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

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

And he grinned.

Reminded him of you.

Fuck it.

He was just going to text you.

Why not?

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

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

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

Nearly made you cough, which caught his attention.

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

There you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Say it, you thought.

Fucking say it.

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

You realised you’d already started missing it.

Good thing he was here.

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

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

[mtchacffinz]

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

prompt! body swap in bed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"..I need you to cry."

[i520u]

11:11 𓂅𓏲•₊˚

FOUR. 09:42

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

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

That was, until today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist | previous | next

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

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

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

[runningfreetoday]

“When We Were Young Fest is a cash grab!” - If you think this, I can’t wait for you to find out about other festivals because that’s pretty much how they all work. They get your money, you get your money’s worth. Festival money (which is not an insignificant amount of money) helps bankroll bands so that they can live and keep making cool shit instead of having to do only “real” jobs forever (you would be surprised by how many musicians from major emo bands have had to get normal-people jobs when they’re not on tour. some even left bands because they can no longer afford to be in them). Sadly, a lot of people in this scene are covertly kinda broke. MCR doesn’t appear to be scrounging between couch cushions for loose change so I don’t think they need this gig to live but either way, doing this festival was their choice. I’m slightly surprised MCR agreed to the one album play-through concept because they’ve never been the type to do an anniversary tour for a specific era before (the original self-imposed cash grab) but I think it’s clear that no one’s forced them to be at WWWY (twice!). Fall Out Boy’s there and they’re not limiting themselves to one album. So again, MCR chose to do things this way. I’ll be honest, more of often than not, I think old album-centric performances and tours can cheapen a band’s image and stunt growth by not focusing on building interest for new material BUT My Chem fans are obsessive, hyped about new material, and many never got to see My Chemical Romance on The Black Parade tour. In this specific case, the actual artistic choice of doing one single album as a one-off thing at a festival is kind of a win for MCR fans rather than the actual band. Personally, I don’t totally hate the idea of being able to experience the vibe of that era in 2024 and, because it’s MCR, I’m sure they’ll do something a little different with it. Anyway, I might be in the minority but I wouldn’t even go so far as to call festivals a necessary evil. Festivals are fun! Your high horse will not save you from the inevitable heat death of the universe! Enjoy things before it’s all over!

“MCR made fun of WWWY Fest therefore they HATE WWWY Fest” - You can poke fun at something without actually hating said thing. I know that you all know this in your hearts because y’all make fun of your favorite bands all the time. Yes, When We Were Young Fest is a name that grounds these bands in “the past” which might feel a little silly when much of the community are new fans, when older fans are still actively listening to these bands, when these bands are still making new music, etc. Ultimately, the branding is about nostalgia. I hear the frustration with that but consider that the reason you keep consuming emo music, a genre that you more than likely began listening to in middle school or high school, is not totally detached from that sense of nostalgia either.

[turtle-bun]

“This iteration of the Turtles and this iteration of the Turtles wouldn’t get along cuz of this!” “These two iterations wouldn’t get along because of that!”

FUCK YOU THEY ARE ALL BEST FRIENDS THAT SUPPORT EACH OTHER CUZ I SAY SO!!

(Please note I wrote this BEFORE watching Mutant Mayhem which is why they aren’t in it. I just forgot to post it lol 😅)

Rise!Leo: You all are so stern and serious. I feel like I should start being more stern and serious. Should I?

BatmanVs!Leo: Please don’t, it’ll be hell on your already waning mental health. /hj

Bayverse!Leo: I feel we need at least one funny Leo to break up the collective seriousness of the rest of us.

87 Leo: I thought me and my brothers counted as the “funny” version of all of us?

12 Leo: You guys are more of a “silly” version of us…sillier? Like the concept of turtles being ninjas is already silly as it is. Which there is nothing wrong with that, just that your cartoon logic is just very hard to keep up with sometimes.

87 Leo: That’s understandable.

Mirage Leo: I’m just jealous that you all get to be in color. Black and white gets so boring once you learn there’s color!

07 Leo: But your universe does have this cool graphic design to it that I’M very jealous of.

03 Leo: Of course, you fucking would be you dramatic edgelord. /j

07 Leo: I know the fucking EMO of the group did not just call me an edgelord! /j

Rise!Leo: Omg we love an E-girl!

12 Leo: *wheeze of laughter*

---

87 Raph: I just don’t think it’s fair that you guys get to be tall, is all! It’s discrimination! /hj

12 Raph: Practically working against your own kind! /j

Rise!Raph: *snorts* I don’t think that’s a bodily function we can control you guys!

Bayverse!Raph: It was a conscious decision on my end.

Rise!Raph: *chokes with laughter*

87 Raph: You goddamn bastard! /j

Bayverse!Raph: Cope and seeth my dude.

07 Raph: Now look, 87 I know it’s very difficult, especially for you, but we gotta be the bigger person here.

87 Raph: I will kick your goddamn ass, kid!

03 Raph: Well, good for you in being the bigger person. I will continue to be small and petty my entire life!

*Collective snorting laughter from all Raphs*

87 Raph: No, no, wait! You are not allowed to be funnier than me!

03 Raph: Tough break, shorty, I have to have SOMETHING other than punching shit.

87 Raph: Take up knitting! I don’t care! Just keep away from my bit! That’s like my entire personality! /hj

03 Raph: See you joke about that but I am fucking GREAT at knitting!

Bayverse!Raph: Amen to that! I ain’t spend half my damn life in the Hashi and NOT be able to knit a fucking epic scarf!

---

07 Donnie: Are you saying I worked a 9 to 5 job FOR NOTHING!

BatmanVs!Donnie: I honestly did not think that embezzling funds from rich corporate assholes plus the Shredder and his Foot Clan was an actual option we had!

12 Donnie: I am actually so mad that I did not think of that!

Rise!Donnie: Honestly, I didn’t think of it until like a few years back because our dad is still, somehow, getting royalties from his Lou Jitsu movie days. But I also have expensive taste in equipment and needed a little pocket change.

03 Donnie: I could have actually bought a Play Station when it came out instead of having to fix up the broken one Mikey found in the dump!

87 Donnie: I’m just now realizing how much stuff we had to make from scratch just because we couldn’t afford it.

Rise!Donnie: That’s true. But like also you guys still made a bunch of cool stuff with JUST junk you found! That’s amazing!

Bayverse!Donnie: Thanks but we could have made even cooler stuff if we had your type of funding. I mean, look at this shit! *excitingly pointing at Rise!Donnie’s battle shell*

Rise!Donnie: Please understand that YOU have made holo-screen, intercom, wrist watches, that connect to your motherboard home computer. All of which you MADE WITH JUNK! How is that not amazing?!

07 Donnie: Amazing for you probably. But if I were to do that shit myself I wouldn’t sleep for a week!

BatmanVs!Donnie: I second that! One sugar daddy please!

Rise!Donnie: *wheeze of laughter*

---

03 Mikey: I still can't believe you met freaking BATMAN! Like holy shit dude!

12 Mikey: *sobbing* I’m so jealous! I’m forever jealous!

BatmanVs!Mikey: Yeah, it was pretty cool. But YOU (03 Mikey) met the entire Justice Force! And became a member! Your legacy was so awesome Silver Sentry’s grandson took up your name!

03 Mikey: Yeah but you road in the BATMOBILE and got to press all the buttons!

Bayverse!Mikey: *sulking on the floor* LIFE ISN’T FAIR AND I HATE IT HERE!

Rise!Mikey: *pouting* I never get to meet my heroes! And when I do they turn out to be insane!

12 Mikey: Bro same! Chris Brandford was just a giant jerk!

87 Mikey: Bugman was pretty cool, though maybe a little weird. Still, he was no Justice Force or Batman!

07 Mikey: *whining* I just want the life you have! Why does god ALWAYS have favorites?!

Ronin!Mikey: *dramatic sigh of jealousy* He truly does.

[hear-that-music-in-the-air]

Helping Hand

My first RD fic! I haven't written proper fanfic in a hot minute but the little pixel people grabbed me by the throat and opened my google docs

Also shoutout to @nightmun for helping me visualize Ian's silly little mug

Summary: After seeing Ada struggle with the rhythm treatments, Ian comes up with a way to help her out.

Fic under the read-more :)

—

Dr. Edega loomed over her, his eyes boring into her back over the top of his clipboard.

"I expect better from you, Dr. Paige. Times are changing. If you can't keep up, then maybe you're not cut out for this job after all,” he said lowly.

Ada couldn't meet his gaze. Instead she stared down at her hands, balled into trembling fists, as her heart pounded in her ears. Burning tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she immediately felt ashamed, like a child being scolded.

She had messed up. She had been treating a patient with the rhythm defibrillator and started to panic as soon as she lost track of the tempo. Ian had frantically swooped in to take over and finished the treatment smoothly, while Ada had watched, feeling numb.

She was distantly aware of Ian pushing past her, positioning himself between her and Edega.

"D-Dr. Edega, sir—this is a very new, experimental treatment method. We're still working out the kinks and—and no one's going to be perfect at it right away."

"That's no excuse. There's no room for mistakes when lives are on the line. You both know that."

"N–Not every case we get is life-threatening," Ian said, and she was faintly surprised at the edge of anger creeping into his tone. "And she'll practice. She can—"

Edega pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I don't care what she does as long as her performance improves. See to it that she receives more training as soon as possible. And keep looking for any bugs in the program in the meantime."

Ian opened his mouth to say something else, but was silenced by a single look from Edega. He shrunk into himself.

"Y–Yes, sir. Of course."

Edega turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving a heavy silence behind him. Ada didn't realize that she was still shaking until Ian placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Ada?" His voice sounded so far away, as though he were speaking to her from underwater. She attempted to pull herself back, focusing on the warmth of his hand as a grounding point. She placed her own fingers unsteadily over his and gave him a tremulous smile.

“I’m…okay.”

Ian watched her face, brow furrowed in concern.

"He—he shouldn't speak to you like that. I—I hate it."

She sniffled and quickly swiped at the tears that were threatening to spill under her glasses. She took a deep breath and straightened, attempting to look professional instead of pathetic.

"No. He's right. We can't afford to make stupid mistakes in this line of work. And it’s not…it’s not just him.” She remembered the way the patient’s heart rate had spiked on the monitor when she missed a beat, and let out a shaky sigh. “I just...can't stop thinking about what might have happened if you weren't here."

Ian frowned.

"Ada. You can't go beating yourself up over what might have happened."

"Sure I can," she joked weakly. Ian didn't laugh.

"We're—we're all trying our best here," he continued. "And Edega doesn't see how much you do for the patients every day. He barely comes out of his office, and when he does it's only to—to reprimand us for something or other. Everyone else in this hospital loves you. You—you're a good doctor, Ada."

As she stared at him, all of the tears that she had swallowed came rising back up in her throat. She let her head fall against his shoulder with a soft thump, and a quiet sob escaped her. She felt Ian freeze for a moment, uncertain, before he awkwardly wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into the warmth.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Not really a hugger."

Ada let out a watery laugh.

"I know, doofus. Thank you."

She pulled back and tried in vain to wipe the tear stains from his coat.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m crying all over you. This is gross.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Ian said. “But that’s okay.”

Ada collapsed into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling indescribably exhausted. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes before letting out another long sigh. Ian sat down next to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his hand.

"Personalized care, comforting patients, that's what I'm good at,” Ada said. “You're the one who’s amazing at all the technical stuff.” 

She stared up into the harsh light of the overhead fluorescents, letting her vision go blurry. 

“All Edega seems to care about is getting people in and out of treatment as quickly as possible. Seems like if he has his way, pretty soon everything will be done remotely. I guess I just feel kind of useless,” she muttered.

“You’re not useless,” Ian said quietly.

Ada made a noncommittal sound.

“Like you said, there’s so many other things you’re good at. Trust me, Ada, we—we’ll always need you. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me,” he joked.

She attempted to muster a smile, but she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Ian frowned again and fell silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then he stood abruptly, nearly startling her out of her seat.

“Oh! I—I might actually know a way to help you!” he cried, pacing excitedly. “M–Meet me in the basement when you come in tomorrow.”

Ada blinked up at him, baffled. “Oh…um…okay? What—?”

Ian was already gone, scurrying down the hallway towards the door that led to the basement. Ada shook her head bemusedly, before scooping up her clipboard from the nearby table to see which patient she needed to check on next. She took a moment and closed her eyes, mentally preparing for the rest of her shift. 

Deep breaths.

She heaved herself onto her feet, and set off in the other direction towards Cole’s room.

—

When she came down to the basement the next morning, Ian looked haggard, yawning and rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. When he saw her, however, he lit up in a smile and eagerly waved her over.

“Ada! Hey! C-Come here, I have something to show you.”

On his desk was the rhythm defibrillator device, and attached to it was a new button that she didn’t recognize.

“...What’s this?” she asked as she slowly descended the stairs.

Ian spun around in his chair to face her, gesturing enthusiastically.

“I was up all night testing this, but it—it works! Basically, it modulates the detected heartbeats to—to simplify them on our end, and then it translates the button input back to the original complexity to match the patient’s heart pattern. S-So you’ll still be administering the same treatment, but it should be easier to—”

Tears welled in her eyes all over again, and Ada practically fell forward to pull him into a hug, grinning from ear to ear. Ian stiffened uncomfortably, and she suddenly remembered herself.

She stepped back and laughed sheepishly as she wiped away the tears.

“Right. Not a hugger. Sorry, I really need to be better about that.”

Ian looked at her for a moment, sighed, and then smiled. He stood from his chair and wrapped her in another hug, tighter than before.

“I’m willing to make exceptions,” he mumbled into her shoulder. Ada’s heart swelled, and she squeezed him back just as tightly. Then Ian let out a yelp as she lifted him off his feet in her excitement, and she quickly set him back down. 

“Too much?”

Ian laughed weakly, smoothing down his rumpled coat.

“Too much.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She returned her attention to the new button, running her fingers over the smooth surface. It looked fairly similar to the standard one, though slightly bigger. She gently pressed it down and it made a satisfying click.

“Thank you, Ian, seriously. This is…incredible.”

Ian scratched the back of his neck bashfully.

“It’s the least I could do. You already work so hard. H–Hopefully, this’ll make your job a little easier.”

Ada suddenly remembered his words from yesterday. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me.

“You’re doing a good job, too, by the way,” she said softly. “Edega’s an idiot if he doesn’t see that. I know that a lot of your work is behind the scenes, but it’s just as important.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Ian looked away, embarrassed. “Y-You don’t have to say that.”

Ada smiled fondly.

“Just want you to know that you’ll always be my favorite radiologist.”

“I’m quite literally th–the only radiologist that we have.”

“Still.”

Ian finally broke into a smile, too. “Okay, okay. H-How about we test this thing?”

—

A week later, Ada told him that she had a gift for him, and produced a small white coffee mug from her coat pocket. Ian burst out laughing when he saw it.

“Wait, d-does that say ‘number one radiologist?’”

It was a “Number One Dad” mug from the dollar store that Ada had drawn over with a permanent marker. She had added two lines under the first D to turn it into an R, and had scribbled “-iologist” underneath, along with a little smiley face at the end. The mug soon became a permanent fixture on Ian’s desk, and she grinned to herself every time she passed by it.

[goldenavenger02]

Kid lloyd gets sick and the ninja take care of him??

Or- Jay and lloyd doing silly antics and the ninja being so done with their crap??

(P.s. get well soon!❤️)

Thank you for the well wishes! I went with the first idea since I immediately had inspiration for it (thank you, Darkness Shall Rise, AKA one of my top three episodes of the show) and I hope you enjoy!

Buzz. Buzz.

Cole knew he couldn't get on his phone as he stood outside of the front steps of the bank.

His boss was already upset with him for stopping that elderly woman, no matter how many times he explained that she was acting suspicious, so answering his phone was only gonna get him in more trouble if not straight up fired.

And he couldn't afford to lose this job, not when the only one making more money than him was Zane, even if it was only by two dollars.

Buzz. Buzz.

'Maybe it'll go voicemail, or they'll just give up and text me. I can check it on my lunch break.' Cole hoped as he observed the sidewalk.

Buzz. Buzz.

"Oh, screw it," Cole muttered, taking a look around to make sure his boss wasn't anywhere to be seen before pulling his phone out and answering it, not even bothering to look at the number, "Hello? I'm at work-"

"Do we have Tylenol?" Lloyd's congested voice cut him off and stopped annoyance from continuing to build in his chest.

"We don't have any children's, I don't think. Zane's going grocery shopping after his shift though, I can ask him to pick some up on my break," Cole explained quickly, "are you okay? You sound snotty."

"My head hurts, but I'm-" Cole winced at the sound of Lloyd's coughing fit coming through the phone and was greeted by a much more hoarse voice finishing his sentence, "I'm okay."

"No, you're sick is what you are," He retorted while trying to calculate who would be off work the soonest in his head and simultaneously trying his best to not think about her since that was the last thing he needed right now, "look, I can ask to clock out early-"

"No! We need the money!"

Cole sighed because Lloyd was right; if they didn't save up the money for rent, they'd be homeless which would be another obstacle that stood in the way of them stopping Lord Garmadon and the Serpentine.

"Okay, okay, I'll stay," Cole agreed even though every congested sniffle made him want to leave and get back to the penthouse so the ten year old wasn't alone, "but I'll ask the others, see if one of them is almost done with work."

"I really don't need-"

"Yes, you do. You're sick and can't even reach the medicine cabinet," Cole argued and when he only got a huff in response, he continued, "I gotta go now, squirt. Can you go lay down until one of us gets home?"

"Yeah."

"Alrighty. Be good." Cole insisted before hanging up, only to be met with the scowling face of his boss. 'Shit.'

"So now you're taking personal phone calls on company time?"

"It was an emergency, my little brother's sick-"

"This is your second strike, Brookstone," his boss cut him off with a hand held up, "do not get a third."

Cole waited until the man was out of earshot to say what he was really thinking, "I need to get a better job", before he pulled out his phone and opened the group chat to type a quick message.

"Lloyd's sick. Needs meds and someone to watch him."

And with that, he put his phone on silent and pocketed it; after all, he had done everything he could, he just had to hope that one of the others had access to their phone.

…

"How do we even take care of him? He's Garmadon's son, what if he has a completely different recovery process?"

"Jay, what the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"What did the thermometer say again?"

"100.4, but I would not be surprised if it has risen since we returned."

Lloyd's eyes burned as he tried to open them; after calling Cole, he figured that the best thing to do was lay down on the couch until one of the others got back with Tylenol but after taking a nap, his clothes were stuck to his body with uncomfortable sweat despite just how cold he was.

Even though he felt it building in his throat, the deep cough that made his head pound and his chest burn caught him off guard, as well as effectively silencing the bickering that had started in the other room before bringing what sounded like two sets of footsteps right to him.

"Lloyd? Are you awake?" A hand pressed against his forehead and gently brushed his hair away from his eyes, one that was warm and calloused against his soft skin, "he's burning up."

Lloyd finally managed to open his eyes, craning his neck to look up at Cole's face looking down at him before looking right at Kai who still had his hand against his forehead and turned his tight frown into a smile that anyone could have seen right through.

"Hey, buddy. We got you some medicine and Zane's making dinner."

"Not hungry."

"You gotta take some medicine regardless," Cole cut in as Kai pulled his hand away from his face and walked towards the kitchen, "plus, chicken noodle soup, especially Zane's recipe, is a surefire way to clear out that sinus system of yours even if you just drink the broth."

"Hey, what are we making Lloyd take right now?!" Jay called from the kitchen which made Cole sigh while smacking his hand gently onto his forehead in annoyance.

Lloyd had to fight back against the cough that built up in his chest from giggling at the action.

"I'll be right back. Stay awake, okay?"

The nod only made his head pound harder behind his eyes, but he kept it to himself until the last of the ninja made their way into the kitchen when he draped a hand over his eyes.

"You wanna sit up for a sec and take this?"

Cole's voice was gentle, almost in a parental way but Lloyd did not want to sit up; not when his head felt like a bowling ball,his limbs felt like jelly and he could barely keep his eyes open with how much the light burned them.

"Not really."

"Lloyd-"

"Everything hurts."

"I know. I know you feel like shit and I'm sorry that I wasn't here sooner, but the medicine will help you feel better and we're working to get shifts arranged so someone can keep an eye on you-"

"Is that gonna mean less money?"

Cole pulled in a sigh as he rubbed a hand over his face before his dark brown eyes pierced into Lloyd's green ones.

"Lloyd, this whole job and house and money thing, you don't have to worry about it. We'll figure it out, all you need to worry about is getting better, okay?"

Despite how much he wanted to protest, about how the only reason they had to work this hard was because they wanted to make sure he got the best training possible, his head hurt too much to push back against Cole's statement, "okay."

"Alright, then let's get you medicated and in bed. Sleeping on the couch cannot be good for your back."

…

It hadn't taken long to get Lloyd in bed.

Kai remembered when the kid used to fight, punch, scream and even bite on a few occasions when they had first brought him aboard The Bounty every time they tried to get him to bed.

Sensei and Zane were the only ones who ever had any luck getting him to lay down and go to sleep at a reasonable time, even though he was still convinced that Jay had let Lloyd stay up past his bedtime multiple times.

He knew that most of it was because he was sick and barely able to sit up to take the medication that he had called Cole to get, let alone bicker with the others about how he should be allowed to stay awake past eight thirty p.m.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder if some of it was the boy grappling with how serious his destiny was.

It had been different when Kai thought it would be him to defeat Lord Garmadon, that it was just like any other ordinary battle despite the heavy weight of it, but now that they knew that one day it would be his very own son that would stand in front of him and strike him down.

Kai just hoped that Lloyd's gi would no longer have to be cuffed around his ankles and wrists before that happened.

He was relieved when his phone alarm went off, announcing that it was time for him to free Cole from beside duty, even if it was just so he could escape his thought process.

When he walked into Lloyd's bedroom, he wasn't surprised to see Cole's head resting against his neck in the armchair that sat in the corner of the room; seeing the youngest of their team sick was stressful on all of them, but knowing just how close it was to home for Cole added another layer of worry to Kai's already frayed nerves.

Despite how peaceful he looked and how tired he had been from standing for nearly twelve hours straight for the last couple of days with the exception of a half-hour lunch break, Kai knew that if he didn't send him to lay down in his real bed until he left again at five that his neck would regret it in the morning.

"Cole?" He whispered, only getting a response in the form of an aggressive jerk when he rested his hand on his shoulder, "sorry."

"No, no, you're good," Cole shook his head, standing up and twisting his head to the right until his neck let out a small 'crack', "be careful with that chair, it'll do a number on your neck."

"Noted."

"Jay set his alarm?"

"Yeah, I watched him do it," Kai nodded, leaving out the part where he hovered over Jay's shoulder as he set multiple alarms due to the fact that he was notorious for hitting the snooze button and ending up being late, "go get some sleep."

Cole nodded with a mumbled "night" as he left the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving him alone in the dark room with Lloyd who was still asleep despite their hushed whispers.

Kai couldn't stop himself from brushing the hair out of the boy's eyes before resting his hand on his flushed cheek and letting the feverish warmth seep into his skin for a moment before sitting down in the armchair.

Maybe he couldn't stop Lloyd's destiny from hitting him way too soon and way too fast, maybe he didn't have his elemental powers anymore thanks to the lack of a fire sword, and maybe he couldn't get enough money being a party entertainer, despite doing the human pinata, that wouldn't pale in comparison to the others salaries.

But, he was able to sit in the darkness on the off chance that Lloyd woke up and needed someone there to comfort him, give him more Tylenol or even just let him know that he wasn't alone; for Kai, given everything else going on, that was enough.

[tubersops]

Finally watched the infamous “skull trumpet video”. I haven’t engaged at all with the discourse around it since I hadn’t seen it, so forgive me if this has all been said, but oh my god. I have to say my piece because I am fuming

Do not track down someone’s address just because they made a funny gif over 20 years ago! Do not hound every living family member you can find on Facebook! Do not send messages to their place of business to hound them about a funny gif their relative made over 20 years ago! And Jesus fucking Christ DO NOT SEND YOUR FRIEND WHO LIVES IN THE AREA TO THEIR HOUSE?? Holy shit. I assumed all this was common knowledge among adults but I guess not.

I know I’m more anxious than the average person, but I would be fucking terrified if someone tracked down my home address and started calling and messaging me and all my relatives and my relatives’ jobs nonstop for weeks on end. It would literally send me spiraling into full blown panic attacks. It would make me feel unsafe in my home, worry for my friends and family, make me feel like I couldn’t go outside or answer the phone. And I am aware not everyone would have that extreme a reaction to something like this, but still I can’t imagine it would make anyone feel good to have that happen to them.

“Come on, he just wanted to let her know her art was famous! It was for a noble cause!”

I don’t think the reason matters actually. Stalking and harassing someone isn’t actually more moral just because you’re stalking and harassing them to tell them something good (and please, we all know he wanted to get an interview to make his video more substantive and popular, this was not purely altruistic no matter what excuses he makes).

I do think it is important to credit artists and to understand where the art we share often thoughtlessly as memes comes from. But you can do that without being a massive asshole and without whining to everyone they’ve ever met about your “important” YouTube video! I think the real lives and emotional security of real people are more important than a YouTube video about a gif.

He easily could have ended the video after he found her name and website. He could have wrapped it up with a nice little bow about giving credit where it’s do and not believing everything you see online unless you can verify the source. But because he wants to do the influencer song and dance, he starts harassing this person he’s claiming to help. Once he finds out she’s dead, he takes a step back and reflects on how she was a real person, but it baffles me that he couldn’t afford her the same courtesy when he thought she was still alive. Because he wanted clout. He wanted to do a little interview where she was sooooo grateful to him for tracking down her address and phone number and harassing her family so he could tell her about how famous her gif was (he literally said that was what he imagined happening, her just falling over herself in gratitude towards him). It was never about her at all. It was about making himself feel like the specialist boy, about elevating his own Brand, about making his own work feel more like Art.

Don’t do this!! If someone doesn’t answer your message about being in your silly YouTube video, just leave them alone!! You are not doing them a favor, you’re just being a dickhead!!

[napsfork-brainrot]

Postal 1 Dude x Reader: Meeting

A/N: This is a mini-fic of how you (yes, you!) meet the deranged, yet somewhat of a softie, Dude. Enjoy this silly little idea!

Paradise... What a joke name for this town.

It's as if the town was only given this name just for a sick joke, a spit in the face, to those that were unfortunate enough to live here. The only reason you had decided to even set foot in this town is because it had low rent prices for housing, and it was the only thing you could afford without having to "make ends meet", so to say.

The town of Paradise, Arizona is home to many people. Unfortunately, most of these people are criminals, violent drug addicts, and genuinely hateful people. Sure, you weren't a saint yourself, but you tried to not go out of your way to cause harm to others, even if you felt that they may deserve it. However, with your minimum-wage job at the coffee shop and the numerous rude customers coming into your work just to give you grief... you could swear that you were losing your patience and felt thin layers of your sanity being cut away from your brain.

After a long day of work, you walk away from the coffee shop, carrying your stuff in your arms. All you want is to go home, take a shower, and go to bed. It's the same thing you do every day, anyways.

Go home. Take a shower. Go to bed. Wake up. Go to work.

Repeat. Forever.

Even though you want to go home and just relax, you can't help but feel that you need something new in your life, something that can help you get out of this endless spiral of repetition and silent despair...

You were losing yourself in your thoughts, not paying attention to anything as you walk down the sidewalk. As you pondered how to get out of your emotional rut before you became too depressed, you suddenly collided with someone!

"Ah..!"

You yelped out, stumbling a bit as you caught yourself. The person you collided with stopped and turned his head around, looking at you with a blank look on his face. You looked back at him as you stood up straight, putting a hand on the back of your neck as you started to apologize.

"H-Hey, sorry, man. I didn't mean to bump into ya."

You said, giving him an awkward smile, hoping that he wasn't too angry or annoyed with you. However, the reaction you got was something very, VERY, different from what you were expecting.

The man turned around to fully face you, and you could tell that he was... definitely different. Long ginger hair, a ginger goatee, a pair of black shades over his eyes, and a black trenchcoat over his shoulders. He gave you a small smile and he shook his head, speaking rather quietly. He seemed to be rather shy, giving you a small chuckle before he spoke.

"Oh..! Aha... N-No, sorry, it's... I should have paid attention. You're fine..."

The man said with a shy smile. He held his gloved hand out towards you, introducing himself.

"The name's Dude. ...Well, it's what people call me, anyways. ...Don't think I've seen you around here before."

You felt a small smile come to your face as he spoke and you shook his hand. You gave him your name before pulling your hand away, continuing to look at him with a comforting grin.

"Nice to meet you, Dude. Yeah, uh, I actually just moved here not too long ago... It was the only town that I could really afford rent in, so... Heheh... Ya know."

You said in a somewhat joking manner. Dude seemed to find that funny as well, laughing along with you. The two of you stopped laughing and he nodded his head, running a hand through his hair as he continued to smile.

"Haha! Hey, I don't blame ya... Hey... If you need anything, and anything at all..."

Dude said, his voice turning into a slightly more serious tone. He turned and pointed at a dirt driveway off to the side of the road.

"...My house is just down that dirt road. You can come on over if you ever need anything... Or, anyone, really."

He seemed to have genuine care for you, even if you two had only just met. Dude continued to speak, empathizing with you about living in this town.

"People here are... weird, I know that. So, meeting someone like you is... kind of a breath of fresh air, you know? ...Sorry, I must be sounding all soft right now. But, I mean it. You come over if anything happens... Got it?"

Dude said, putting one of his hands on your shoulder as he gave you another smile.

You were hesitant for a moment, a bit bewildered by his trust and protectiveness for you. But you knew that he meant it. He was different, just like you.

"...Okay, Dude. I will."

[this-gay-tiefling]

A/N: The character of Ris'daer is not one of mine but from the extremely talented @mmothmanners here on tumblr. I absolutely adore their art and OCs and am currently (constantly) in a writing slump so I’m now trying to get out of it by writing about things I’m obsessed with. In this case: Ris’daer. Because I somehow got way too attached to this man. Good job. I think way too much about him. So you’ll probably end up getting random short stories about him and some of my OCs. Mostly my OC Talon cause he’s my baby but I’m really just ranting at this point. 

I hope everyone, and especially @mmothmanners enjoys this silly little thing, honestly it won't be too great but I gotta create something

Becoming friends (?)

Possibly pt.1 of many

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

~ ~

Talon wasn’t quite famous for being the most open person. Sure, he didn’t like most people and maybe his first idea of interaction was violence more often than not. But he prided himself on not discriminating between anyone. Age, Gender, Race. He treated everyone the same. 

So rest assured that the reason he didn’t like the bard wasn’t that he was a Drow but because the music was just annoying. Or maybe he just wasn’t able to deal with the bard’s undeniable enthusiasm for practically…everything.

It was late at night when Talon had put down his bags in the furthest corner of where they were camping, laying his head down on his bag, closing his eyes and tried to sleep.

Tried.

At least until he heard steps and someone flopping down next to him.

“Talon.”

Talon opened his eyes. “Bard.”

“I think I finally cracked it.” Ris’daer spoke with his usual happy mood that was, in Talon’s eyes, completely misplaced at this time and in this situation. 

Talon sighed quietly, realizing he wouldn’t get much sleep anymore, sitting up. “How interesting, Ris’daer. Please. Enlighten me”

Ris’daer completely ignored the obvious sarcasm. “I…” he made a dramatic pause. “Wrote you a song.”

“You wrote me a what now?”

“A song. Come on. I’m a bard. It’s what I do. And I feel like you have a lot of stories to tell.” he was quiet for a moment. “Even if you don’t actually…tell them.”

For multiple seconds Talon just looked at the Drow but he really did seem to be serious about it. “Why are you wasting your time like this? We have more important things to do.”

“I forgot you were allergic to having fun.” Ris’daer chuckled. 

“Some of us just can’t afford to–”

“Oh boohoo. I’m so dark and edgy. I don’t need friends. I stay alone in the darkness.” Ris’daer lowered his voice, performing a, not so inaccurate, mockery of Talon.

“...are you done yet?”

“Depends. Are you gonna let me play the song?”

Talon looked over what he could see from the camp, considering if he had some way out of it at this point. “Fine.” he eventually decided. “Just get it over with quickly.”

“No can do. Art needs time.” Ris’daer smirked.

“You can shove your art up your–”

“Shh. Don’t be so vulgar.” Ris’daer chuckled, playing a few notes on his lute and then properly starting to play a song, soon chiming in with some light singing.

And…it wasn’t like Talon liked it. 

Objectively it wasn’t bad.

When the bard finished with the song, he widely grinned. “Huh? Have I made you speechless?” 

Talon quickly focused back on the situation. “Not too bad. Although it does shine a bad light on me.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Who will want to hire me if they think I'm some big softie?” and for a moment Ris’daer could swear that he saw a small smile on the tieflings face.

“You are a big softie.” he grinned. “But fine. Next time I'll write one about you bathing in the blood of your enemies.”

“See that sounds more up my alley.” this time Ris’daer was sure that Talon was smiling even if it was just a little.

“I’ll start right up with brainstorming. How about you tell me about your most bloody battle, huh?” He hoped to get at least one story out of Talon.

Talon looked down at the Drow. “Nice try.”

“...damn I hoped that would work.” 

For a moment Talon was quiet before speaking up again.  “Did I tell you about the time I accidentally took down a cult?”

Immediately the bright shine that Ris’daer got when he was excited about something showed up again. “That’s what I’m talking about! Tell me everything!”

Okay.

So maybe Talon didn’t exactly hate the Drow.

And maybe he would be able to befriend the bard. He just wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to befriend the lute that came with it.