watching bridgerton and obviously there were a lot of things wrong with the way socializing has worked in the past, but honestly the idea of a "calling hour" is so appealing. office hours for friendship. you can show up unannounced at my home between 1 and 3pm. you must leave by 3pm. I may give you a pastry. lets bring that back
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the main problem with this time of year is the irresistible urge to get fully into bed at like 5:34 pm and outside is like yesss, yesss do it, it's what you deserve yesss. like is it depression or is it just november
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Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.
Total ditz to be precise.
But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.
Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?
Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.
Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.
Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.
Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.
After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.
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when bakugou works out, he usually has earphones in. he likes to listen to music, usually, because people are irritating. but sometimes when he knows you’re likely to be free, just doing chores or running errands or lounging around, he calls you.
“hey katsuki,” you say. he won’t ever tell you, but he likes the way you say his name. he likes the feeling he gets hearing the warmth in your voice. only for him.
“hey,” he says back.
you never need prompting to begin chatting away. he does his cardio, weightlifting, to the sound of your voice in his ears. he turns the volume up because he’d rather hear you talk about your day, your dumb coworkers, what you’re planning on having for dinner, than listen to the ambient sounds of a gym, or worse—other people trying to talk to him.
(and maybe you look forward to these calls of his. maybe you enjoy the sounds of his exertion—the grunts, the heavy breathing. they remind you of… another type of exercise.)
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“there are plenty of fish in the sea” = there are more people out there who you could get with
“sleeping with someone” = having sex with them
“sleeping with the fishes” = got murdered
my proposal: “there are plenty of other fish to sleep with” = next person you fuck will kill you
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