Um.. jimmy hopkins bf headcanons? If you want to tell them, ofc
of course!! (these are probably a little out of character so i do apologise but i was in the mood to write something fluffy but still with a little angst because idk im indecisive. hopefully my self indulgence isnt too noticeable 🙂↕️)
Jimmy Hopkins as your BF HCs!
- Jimmy Hopkins is the kind of boy people think they understand at a glance — short fuse, quicker fists, sharp mouth. But living beside him, loving him, you realize how wrong that first impression is.
- Jimmy is deeply intelligent, and with you he lets it show more openly because he doesn’t feel like he has to play dumb or tough. You hear the clever remarks, the quiet insights, the observations that make you stop and think, oh — he’s really sharp. He’s good at logic, problem-solving, seeing patterns others miss. Being understood on that level is rare for him, and once he realizes you see both his mind and his heart, he trusts you with them completely.
- Academically, he surprises people. He does better in class than he lets on, especially when something can be broken down practically. When you struggle, he helps without judgment — explaining things in ways that actually make sense, relating concepts to real life. Staying patient, and teasing gently but never cruelly. Studying with him is unexpectedly effective, and sometimes even fun. “Think of it like this,” he says, and suddenly it clicks.
- Despite claiming he’s “not an art guy,” he doodles constantly. His notebooks are full of sarcastic cartoons, teachers exaggerated into caricatures, sketches of Bullworth’s corners — and eventually, you. Drawings he insists aren’t that good, but somehow capture you perfectly anyway.
- People call him a tough guy, but Jimmy is quietly empathetic. He understands fear, humiliation, and powerlessness because he’s lived them. That’s why he defends weaker kids — not because he wants to be a hero, but because he notices unfairness instinctively. Loyalty and fairness matter deeply to him, even if he never dresses those values up in pretty words. Betrayal cuts him hard for that reason. That same empathy extends to you in subtle, constant ways.
- He notices the small things. A change in your mood before you name it. New shoes. A different way you style your hair (unless you’re bald like him idk). He doesn’t always comment, but he adjusts himself around you without thinking — softer voice, closer presence, quieter humor when you need it.
- Jimmy shows love through actions more than words. He fixes problems before you even realize they exist. Walks you to class without making a thing of it. Just “happens” to be nearby when someone’s bothering you. Carries your books. Fixes your bike with the skills he gained from shop class. Brings back your favorite snack when he’s been out, even if it means going out of his way. Somewhere along the line, he learned that being useful is how you earn the right to stay — and that belief runs deep.
- He likes routines when you’re involved. Meeting you at the same place after class. Sitting on the same bench. Walking familiar paths around campus. It gives him something steady, something predictable to anchor himself to.
- Jimmy never says it outright, but part of him is always waiting for the moment you decide he’s too much trouble. Being left at Bullworth by his mother hurt more than he’ll ever fully admit. He jokes about it, shrugs it off, insults his stepdad — but the truth slips out late at night in fragments. Half-sentences. Mutters. Confessions said while staring at the floor instead of your face. That day taught him that love can be temporary, conditional, inconvenient. Because of that, he treats affection like a job he has to keep earning. If he protects you, fixes things, takes hits for you — maybe you won’t leave too.
- Arguments with Jimmy flare fast. His frustration comes out sharp before he can stop it — raised voice, rough words he doesn’t fully mean. The second he sees your reaction, guilt hits him hard. He storms off to cool down, then comes back quieter, shoulders tense, voice low and honest. His apologies aren’t always polished — sometimes just a muttered “I didn’t mean that” — but they’re sincere. He always takes responsibility.
- Emotionally, Jimmy is more mature than most kids at Bullworth — he just lacks the language for it. He feels deeply and intensely, but explaining those feelings makes him defensive. Sarcasm becomes his shield when he doesn’t know how to say “I’m scared of losing you.”
- He’s more affectionate than he pretends. Casually touchy. Sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. An arm around your waist as you walk. A steady hand at your back when you stop. One of his favorite gestures is resting his forehead against yours — grounding himself, making sure you’re really there. Especially after arguments, when emotions are still buzzing but he wants closeness more than distance.
- Kisses start a little awkward, a little rough — like he’s unsure what to do with tenderness. But once he relaxes, they soften. He slows down, checks in without words, keeps a firm hand at your waist like he’s anchoring himself. Sometimes he presses quick, absent-minded kisses to your temple or forehead when he thinks you aren’t paying attention — instinctive flashes of affection that make him blush when you catch him.
- When you’re upset, Jimmy doesn’t always try to fix it with words. He knows sometimes there aren’t words. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, arms firm and warm, chin resting on your head. He stays still and present until you calm down. He’s always warmer than you expect — stocky build, strong arms, solid presence. His hugs feel safe, and he never lets go first.
- Lazy afternoons are his favorite — no fights to pick, no problems to solve. Just sitting together on the grass or tucked away somewhere quiet. He leans into you without thinking, legs tangled, head on your shoulder. In those moments, he looks younger, lighter, like the weight of Bullworth finally slips off him.
- He falls asleep easily around you, which surprises him. He’s used to being alert, half-awake, listening for trouble. But with you nearby — your breathing steady, your hand familiar — his body relaxes on instinct. It’s one of the safest he’s ever felt, even if he never says it out loud.
- When he’s genuinely happy, he gets playful in small, soft ways. Bumping your shoulder. Stealing your things just to give them back. Repeating a joke because he liked the way you laughed the first time. Real laughter — the kind where you can’t stop smiling — is one of his favorite sounds, and he’ll chase it without admitting why.
- He pretends he doesn’t care about birthdays or holidays, but when one comes around, he shows up awkwardly prepared. A candy bar. A dumb little trinket. Something he fixed up himself. He watches your reaction closely, like your smile matters more than the gift.
- Music matters to him more than most things. Sharing earbuds with you. Letting you pick songs even if he complains about your taste. Late nights in dorm rooms or one of his many safehouses, talking about nothing while the world feels far away — those are the moments his guard drops completely.
- Jimmy is used to relationships being transactional. Prove yourself. Earn trust. Lose it. Repeat. So sometimes you have to remind him — gently, patiently — that what you have isn’t like that. That he doesn’t have to keep proving his worth. That he belongs. That he’s chosen not because he’s useful, not because he’s strong, but because he’s him.
- It takes time, but once he understands you’re not leaving — not when he’s angry, not when he’s failing, not when he’s doing nothing at all — his walls start to come down. He laughs more easily. His shoulders stay relaxed longer. He stops scanning every room the second he enters.
- And when those walls fall? Jimmy Hopkins loves hard. Loyal to a fault. Protective. Soft in the moments that matter most. If Bullworth is his last chance, then you are his first real choice — and that means more to Jimmy than he could ever say out loud.
of course!! this was such a fun one to think about, thank you for requesting (and apologies for the HORRENDOUSLY long wait! ive been on vacation and trying to work on improving my writing style before i went back to college 🥲) also, fair warning, this is a diabolically long post. i wouldn’t usually make one this long, but i was inspired!!
💎 Preppies x Punk!BF Reader HCs 💎
Derby Harrington:
- Derby absolutely hates how much he’s attracted to you at first. You’re loud, rebellious, and unapologetically unpolished — a walking affront to everything he was raised to admire. You talk back, dress like you’ve declared war on Aquaberry, and clearly don’t come from money (or maybe you just don’t care about flaunting it). It drives him insane — and yet, he keeps showing up wherever you are.
- He tells himself it’s not attraction. Just morbid curiosity. Still, there he is — leaning against doorframes, voice dripping with disdain as he mocks your music taste, your ripped jeans, your friends. “You really spend time with those people?” “That’s not fashion — that’s whatever peasants wear.” You laugh in his face, and he hates how it lingers in his chest like static.
- At first, he tries to change you. He drags you into Aquaberry, insists you try on pressed shirts and stiff jackets, lectures you about posture and cutlery over overpriced dinners. He’s scandalized when you shrug it all off — more so when you start dragging him to rooftop hangouts, grimy shows, anywhere with blaring speakers and sticky floors.
- The other Preppies don’t get it. They whisper behind his back, but none of them dare say it aloud — not when Derby could tear their family reputation apart with a few words. He hears the judgment in their voices, sees it in the way they glance at your boots, your smudged eyeliner, your grin that dares them to speak.
- He’s so jealous. Punk doesn’t exactly scream stability, and Derby’s paranoia has always lived just under his skin. If someone flirts with you? He doesn’t throw a punch — he pays someone else to do it. You roll your eyes at the theatrics, but later find him sulking by the fireplace, swirling a drink, muttering under his breath: “Well, if you prefer gutter trash…” The insult crumbles the second you pull him close, lips silencing the sneer.
- You are chaos in his curated world, and it terrifies him. He claims to despise your music, your torn clothes, your refusal to play by anyone’s rules. But he doesn’t stop you when you slip a Dead Kennedys cassette into the Harrington House stereo. He’ll grumble about your boots muddying the rugs, even as his hands move unthinkingly to unlace them for you when you collapse onto his couch. For every insult, there’s a quiet act of care he thinks you won’t notice.
- He acts like PDA is beneath him, but when parties spill into Harrington House, he parades you like an heirloom. Chin up, hand in yours, eyes daring anyone to say a word. “Yes, he’s mine,” he tells anyone bold enough to ask. “Don’t you wish you could afford someone so authentically rebellious?” He pretends it’s possession, when really it’s pride.
- And then there are the moments when you catch him staring into a glass, the smirk gone, whispering about a future written before he was born. About oil money, family names, arranged marriages. About how every part of his life feels chosen for him, down to the clothes on his back. Derby Harrington, heir to everything, sits beside you and admits that he has never once felt free.
- And that’s when you understand: He doesn’t fall for you in spite of your chaos. He falls because of it. Because you are the one thing in his life that isn’t planned, purchased, or performed. Because when he’s with you, he doesn’t have to prove anything. You see the kid beneath the bravado — the one who’s been drowning in pressure his whole life, desperate to be in control because he never feels in control. And for him, that kind of love is worth more than money.
Bif Taylor:
- “Punks jump up to get beat down!” (Just kidding.)
- At first, Bif’s a little thrown off by your whole punk vibe. But he doesn’t mock you for it like the others might. He’s not one for snide comments or backhanded compliments — Derby has that covered. Bif just watches. Tilts his head like he’s trying to understand how someone so chaotic can be so solid. You remind him of the fighters he admires — unpolished, but impossible to knock down.
- You make him want to carry himself differently — not just in the ring, but everywhere. He’s proud of being “the champ.” He trains hard, wins harder, and holds onto the rules like a lifeline. But when he sees how confidently you own who you are — the way you snarl when someone talks down to you, the way you wear your bruises like badges — it sticks with him. Makes him wonder what confidence outside the ring could look like.
- Boxing is his passion. Training is his love language. You’re more of a “swing first, ask later” kind of guy, but Bif’s patient. He can’t help but show you how to improve your stance, steady your shoulder, correct your guard. His hands are big — warm and calloused — and when he guides you, it feels more intimate than any kiss.
- Bif’s not embarrassed by you the way some of his friends would be. Derby would sneer. Justin would joke. But Bif? He likes the contrast. Your ripped shirt against his Aquaberry sweater. Your snarling against his calm silence. If anyone comments, he just shrugs: “If they’ve got a problem with who I date, they can take it up with me in the ring.”
- He’s protective — quietly, consistently. If someone insults you, he doesn’t start a fight with words. He just steps forward, cracks his knuckles, and lets his fists do the talking. If Derby makes a cutting remark, Bif doesn’t always speak up in the moment — but you can tell by the set of his jaw that it’s not over. He’ll bring it up later, probably behind closed doors.
- You’re his hype man before matches. You shout louder than anyone, smack his back like you’re in his corner, and tease him about his “serious face” while he wraps his hands. “Get in there and wreck him, champ.” He swears your voice gives him more adrenaline than any pep talk Derby’s ever given.
- He’s not into showy gifts. No jewelry, no designer crap. Bif gives you things with meaning: tickets to underground matches, mixtapes he made from the Vale’s only working cassette deck, or an old hoodie that still smells like his cologne. “Don’t wear it if you don’t want to,” he mumbles. But you do. And he notices.
- PDA is natural with him. Not for attention — just comfort. He’ll sling an arm over your shoulder while talking to the Preps. Rest his hand on your knee during dinner at Harrington House. Lace fingers under the table, completely unfazed. He’s not trying to scandalize anyone. He just wants people to know you’re his. “He’s my boyfriend. Why would I hide that?”
- Music becomes your middle ground. He respects your taste, even if punk isn’t his thing. He’ll nod along to The Clash and admit, “Okay, that’s pretty good.” And when you show him a hip hop tape, he surprises you by pulling out a Brand Nubian cassette from his own collection.
- Together, you balance each other. Bif keeps you grounded when you’re ready to throw punches, and in return you remind him not to shrink himself into Derby’s shadow. He’s more than a bodyguard. More than a follower. With you, he remembers he has his own strength.
- Sometimes, you lie on his dorm floor at midnight — him in his emerald boxing shorts, you shirtless in flannel and leather — arguing about whether Muhammad Ali or Sid Vicious had the better showmanship. There’s one pair of headphones between you. His knuckles are bruised, your boots are off, and the world feels quiet for once. You never thought you'd fall for someone like Bif Taylor. But maybe that's the point. And maybe he never thought he'd be this happy just being himself — with you.
Bryce Montrose:
- Dating you is terrifying for Bryce. Not because you're mean. Not because you're wild. But because your very existence threatens everything he’s carefully constructed. He’s spent years perfecting the image of the “ideal Prep” — polished, superior, untouchable. And then you show up. In torn jeans, spiked cuffs, and smudged eyeliner, yelling at prefects and laughing like you’ve never once worried about anyone else’s opinion. You don’t hide who you are, while Bryce spends every day fearing someone will notice he’s pretending. You make it look easy and he envies that.
- At first, he treats you like a project. “You’ll never get into the Golf & Yacht Club dressed like that, pauper!” he’ll huff, thrusting an old Aquaberry sweater vest at you. He’ll never say it out loud, but when you ignore him and turn up in your punk clothes, he can’t tear his eyes away. It’s the freedom he secretly wishes he had — to be true to yourself no matter what other people think.
- In the early days, the other Preps get in his head bad. A few barbed comments like — “Bryce has gone slumming.” “Couldn’t land someone of his own calibre, huh?” — and suddenly he’s pulling away, pretending he’s too busy for dates, playing cold to save face. You call him out — not cruelly, but firmly. “You’re really gonna throw us away because some assholes in sweater vests think I don’t belong?” That’s when something shifts. When the relationship stops being a novelty and starts being a mirror. Bryce is forced to confront who he actually is vs. who he wants to be.
- Bryce insists he’s a “fighting machine” so it’s only a matter of time before he challenges you to spar. He’s all bravado until you land a clean hit — then his whole face lights up. From that moment on, it becomes your favorite date activity. The two of you laughing, bruised and breathless in the ring. Sometimes he lets you win. Sometimes you knock him flat and he pretends it was strategy.
- His gifts are flashy and unnecessary — but sincere. He’ll scrape together his Golf & Yacht Club wages to buy you cufflinks you’ll never wear or a cologne bottle that costs more than a week’s worth of food. He’s still chasing the image — still trying to prove he’s worth something. You keep every gift. Not for the label, but because you know he’s trying. Because no one ever taught him that being him is enough.
- In public, Bryce plays it cool. No grand PDA. Just carefully timed hand-holding, a smirk here or there. But behind closed doors? He’s clingy as hell. He’ll throw himself across your bed like it’s a fainting couch, sigh dramatically, and say: “Aren’t you honored? The next Bullworth billionaire, deigning to waste his precious hours on you.” You snort. Call him out. He huffs — but secretly, he loves that someone sees through the performance and doesn’t run.
- If someone insults you, his mask slips instantly. He’ll puff up and declare, “No one maligns a friend of the Preps!” even though everyone and their mother can tell you’re far more than just a friend.
- He’s still defensive about money. Always boasting. Always joking about inheritance and stock holdings. But late one night — sweaty after training, hands still taped — he confesses: “If the others knew the truth about me… they’d toss me out.” You squeeze his hand and tell him “You’re not the sum of your father’s bad bets, Bryce.” He holds onto that harder than he’ll ever admit.
- Dates are a mess — but they work. One night it’s sneaking into a punk show and screaming until your throats are raw. The next it’s milkshakes at some country club diner where Bryce pretends he’s too good for the neon straws but orders two extra. He never says it out loud, but he loves the balance.
- Being with you doesn’t ruin Bryce’s image. It rebuilds it. You show him he can be proud without pretending. That strength isn’t found in money, but in honesty. That he doesn’t have to impress anyone who doesn’t see his worth. You make him feel real. And for someone who’s been performing his whole life, that’s the scariest — and most freeing — feeling in the world.
Chad Morris:
- At first, Chad is horrified. Ripped jeans? Safety pins? Leather jackets with actual wear on them? He clutches his metaphorical pearls and gasps like he’s just witnessed a crime against fashion. But then, somehow, he starts showing up everywhere you are. Leaning against the wall at your hangout spot, pretending to text, pretending even harder not to look at you. “Oh, you’re here? What a coincidence.” It’s not. He’s following you around like a very well-dressed lost puppy.
- He insists he could never be seen with you in public, and yet he’s the one sneaking you into Harrington House after dark. Muttering about “ruining his reputation” while hurrying you down marble hallways, still holding your hand. He claims he’s doing you a favor — “We must be discreet, my dear!” — but the flush on his face says otherwise. Truth is, he loves the scandal. The idea that he, Chad Morris, is harboring a punk in his clique's private dormitory? Outrageous.
- He insists on buying you clothes. Nice clothes. Designer leather jackets, boots, jewelry that costs more than your entire wardrobe. The wild part? His picks actually fit. Somehow, his expensive taste ends up meshing with your punk aesthetic — luxury meets grit — and he glows when he sees you wearing something he picked out. “See? I told you black suede is timeless.”
- His insecurity leaks out around you more than anyone else. He’ll make some offhand comment about his nose job, his scar, or how he nearly started steroids once (and how embarrassed he is that he considered it). You just shrug, kiss the scar on his cheek, and tell him it makes him look tough. That rewires his brain instantly. Suddenly the scar is dashing, and he cannot shut up about how “rugged” he looks. “Truly, I’m like a pirate — a handsome one.”
- Chester adores you. Chad insists you don’t “need to kneel in the dirt with him”, but when he finds you sprawled on the lawn, scratching behind Chester’s ears while your spiked bracelet clinks against his fur, his heart just about melts. Seeing you so gentle with something he loves might actually be what seals the deal for him.
- Chad actually apologizes (in his own roundabout, dramatic way) for judging you. He chalks it up to his own “traumatic history” (Gary’s prank with Chester, of course) and insists that your “rough aesthetic” unfairly colored his assumptions. He says it with such gravity you almost laugh, but he means it.
- His melodrama oddly pairs with your edge. You rant about the system being unfair, and he’ll chime in with: “Yes, exactly! Father refused to bribe my teacher last term — we suffer the same injustice!” He truly believes you’re both raging against the machine together. You don’t correct him. It’s too endearing.
- He’s ridiculously proud of showing you off once he gets over himself. He’ll start flexing the idea that he’s so daring for dating outside his social circle, and won’t stop bragging about it to anyone who’ll listen: “Oh, yes, my boyfriend’s so edgy. It’s quite avant-garde, really.”
- He brags about your perceived toughness constantly. If anyone so much as looks at him wrong, he’ll puff up and declare: “Do you know who my boyfriend is? He could end you!” It’s part pride, part performance — but it always makes you grin. And while he’s more than capable of fighting for himself, he secretly loves watching you fight for him.
- Underneath all the drama, there’s something soft. You hype him up without conditions. Tell him he’s handsome, even when he’s not performing. You treat him like he’s real, not just a prep caricature. And for the first time, Chad Morris — melodramatic, image-obsessed, perfectionist — feels seen. With you, he’s not just a pretty face. He’s something bold. Something brave. Something real.
Gord Vendome:
- Gord is scandalized. Utterly, profoundly scandalized. At least, that’s what he tells everyone. You—you—with your ripped jeans, thrift-store jackets, safety pins, and boots that have actually touched dirt? It’s an affront to everything he stands for! He sighs dramatically to the other Preps, and laments: “I’m simply enduring this phase of poor fashion to broaden my horizons.”
- He frets constantly about appearances. Being seen with you sends him spiraling: what if Derby cuts him off, what if people say he’s slumming, what if your thrifted jacket sheds lint on his Aquaberry sweater? And yet, there he is — sneaking glances at you like you’re a priceless artifact. The kind of thing you’re not supposed to touch. But he absolutely will.
- He insists on “fixing” you constantly — tugging your collar straight, smoothing your hair, sneaking an Aquaberry accessory onto you “for balance.” “At least try to look presentable while standing next to me.” He says it with a sigh, but his hands linger. He likes how different you are, how you make him look almost dangerous by association.
- You drag him to a punk show once, and he nearly has a meltdown. He whines the entire cab ride, but once the music starts, something shifts. He goes quiet. Wide-eyed. He’ll never admit it, but the rawness of it hits him. When he accidentally sings along, he covers his mouth like he’s been caught committing a crime. You catch his eyes glittering under the lights. He’s falling — and it terrifies him.
- His love language is constant fussing disguised as nagging. Before you go picking fights or throwing yourself headfirst into trouble, he scolds: “Be careful, you brute! You’re frightfully important to me, you know.” It’s half lecture, half confession — and he never stays long enough for you to tease him about it.
- Publicly, Gord keeps things “proper”. A hand on your sleeve, maybe a quick kiss when he’s sure Derby isn’t watching. But in private? He’s clingy in ways he’ll never admit. He loops his scarf around your neck so you “smell like him”, runs his hands down your jacket while complaining it’s “so gauche”, and dares you to quiet him with a kiss mid-complaint. “You can’t just manhandle me like— oh... well, perhaps once more.”
- Gord is no stranger to pride. He pretends your rough edges are beneath him, but when you stand up for him — when someone mouths off and you step in without hesitation — it knocks the wind out of him. Nothing makes Gord swoon harder than you scuffing your knuckles warning some idiot not to touch his expensive sweater. It’s chivalry inverted, and he’s hopelessly in love with it.
- He tries to make everything a performance, but his insecurities always bleed through. He worries you’ll leave him for someone who doesn’t flinch at dirt under their nails or a ripped seam — that you’ll wake up one day and decide he’s too shallow, too cowardly, too much of his world to ever truly belong in yours. Your reassurance is something he both craves and doubts; he’s not used to love that isn’t transactional. But every time you kiss the corner of his mouth and reassure him you’re not going anywhere, he looks at you like you’ve just handed him a lifeline.
- He’ll still fuss, still nag, still act like your leather jacket is a social threat. But when you walk him home, and he quietly slips his fingers between yours, you feel him settle. Gord Vendome, eternal drama queen, is finally calm — because you’re there.
Justin Vandervelde:
- Justin is obsessed with being impressive. The first time he sees you — boots scuffed, jacket ripped, looking like you’ve been in numerous fights and won them all — he laughs nervously and immediately starts talking about his swim times. “Did you know I broke the Bullworth freestyle record last term? Quite the feat, really. Very elite.” You raise an eyebrow. He panics and offers to race you.
- He thrives on validation. He drags you to the pool to time his laps, makes you watch his dodgeball games, and insists boxing is “the most refined of activities.” If you can keep up with him athletically, he’s lowkey thrilled — though he pretends to be scandalized. “You’re supposed to be the artistic one. I can’t have you outpacing me. It’s uncivilized.”
- Fighting? That’s your job. Justin talks a huge game with his egg puns and fake bravado, tossing out lines like: “You’d better walk away, peon, or my very violent boyfriend will pulverize you!” He’ll puff out his chest right until someone throws a punch — then he’s immediately behind you, shouting encouragement while adjusting his collar.
- He tells himself it’s strategy. Preps don’t get their hands dirty. But you? You’re like a living Molotov cocktail in leather. Having you by his side makes him feel powerful, untouchable. And when you grin after a fight, blood on your knuckles and a cut on your lip, he melts. “God, you’re disgusting,” he says, blushing furiously. “Disgustingly attractive.”
- Your music horrifies him. He says it sounds like “pots and pans tumbling down the stairs.” You catch him shadow-boxing to The Ramones one night. He goes bright red and insists it was “just cardio.” Later, when you find him flipping through your tapes, he mutters: “They’re... energetic. I suppose. Effective for footwork.” You say nothing, just smirk when you hear him humming “Blitzkrieg Bop” during warmups.
- He’s obsessed with the idea of alliances, so he treats your relationship like an international treaty. You’re a punk, he’s a Prep — clearly this is a diplomatic triumph. “See, a Prep and a Punk can coexist splendidly!” He declares to Tad, who just rolls his eyes. You kiss Justin’s cheek and he beams like he’s won a peace prize.
- Winter dates are your favorite. He fusses over his striped scarf and complains your jacket is “criminally underinsulated”, but he lets you light his cigarette, fingers trembling slightly in the cold. He’ll grumble the next day about the smoke clinging to his sweater — but he breathes deeper, like he wants it to stay.
- PDA short-circuits him. He insists on dignity in public. “Composure,” he says. “We must maintain appearances.” So, naturally, you whisper something filthy in his ear just to hear him squeak. “Honestly, must you?” he stammers, glowing red and gripping your hand tighter. Later, you kiss him against a brick wall behind the gym. He’s dazed for the rest of the afternoon.
- When the bravado cracks, it’s quiet. Late at night, when the dorm is silent and he’s curled up on your jacket, he mutters things he’d never say under the sun. That he’s “not shallow enough”, that Derby thinks he’s soft, that he’s terrified someone will think he doesn’t belong. “Sometimes I think I’m just pretending to be a Prep, and one day they’ll all notice.” You brush his hair out of his eyes and say, “You are a pompous prep, Justin.” He laughs. You add, “But you’re mine. And that’s the only label that matters.” He doesn’t reply — just tucks himself closer and lets himself believe it.
- He loves you for your confidence, your edge, your chaos. You walk through Bullworth like you don’t owe anyone a thing. You never beg to be liked, never shrink yourself to fit. And because of that, Justin —anxious, polished, over-rehearsed — feels brave enough to try doing the same. For once, not to impress anyone. Just to be real.
Parker Ogilvie:
- Parker never meant to fall for someone like you. Ripped clothes, spikes, a glare sharp enough to cut glass — you’re everything his world warns him about. He half‑expects you to hate him on principle. But you smile at him, really look at him, and something in his chest just melts.
- He’s not like the others. He doesn’t mock; he asks questions. “Did you sew that patch yourself?” “Why spikes, and not studs?” There’s no judgment in it — just curiosity. You realize quickly he’s less interested in changing you and more in understanding why you are the way you are.
- Being with you scandalizes the clique anyway. Derby sneers, Gord mocks, Tad scowls — but Parker doesn’t raise his voice to his friends. He simply says, calm and steady: “He makes me happy.” Somehow, that quiet conviction cuts deeper than if he’d shouted.
- He’s awkward about romance but painfully earnest. While the others flash cash and Aquaberry gifts, Parker shows up at your locker with a cassette tape, sheepish smile on his face. “I, uh… recorded this off the radio. Thought it sounded like your kind of noise.” It’s a chaotic mix — a little New Wave, a stray jazz track, even some random Top‑40 — but he’s so proud of it you can’t help but love it. You listen, laugh, and kiss him on the cheek. He turns red to the roots of his hair.
- Fighting isn’t his style, but love makes him brave. He’ll always try to defuse things first. “Relax, I'm sure we can work something out!” he’ll plead when someone mouths off. But if they don’t back down, he’ll swing. He hates how much it rattles him, but your arm around him afterward steadies him every time. He admits quietly, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
- Your worlds collide in funny little ways. He invites you to a Prep party where you’re the only one in ripped jeans. You drag him to a garage show where he’s the only one in a sweater vest. He awkwardly bops his head near the mosh pit; you sip sparkling cider in a crystal glass. You both laugh at how ridiculous it looks, but in those moments you realise you’re teaching each other how to exist outside the lines you were drawn into.
- Parker’s jealousy shows up in subtle ways. He won’t cause a scene, but his smile stiffens when someone flirts with you. Later, in private, he’ll ask in a whisper: “You’re not… thinking about anyone else, right?” You tease him until he’s pink‑cheeked, then tell him you’re not going anywhere. He beams for the rest of the night.
- Affection is hesitant but honest. He overthinks everything — when to hold your hand, if you’ll find it “too proper.” Eventually he just brushes his fingers against yours, heart pounding, and relaxes when you intertwine them.
- He learns to be braver through you. You speak your mind. You don’t bow to Derby’s ego or the Prep image. And being around that kind of unapologetic energy rubs off on him. Bit by bit, Parker starts standing taller, speaking louder, laughing freer. You can see him shedding layers of fear he didn’t know he had.
- In the long run, Parker becomes the kind of boyfriend who grows through love — the one who learns that being gentle isn’t weakness, and that defying expectations can be its own quiet rebellion. Because when you look at him — this soft, careful boy with shaking hands and an open heart — you make him believe he can be more than what the Preps decided he should be. And that, to Parker, feels like freedom.
Pinky Gauthier:
- At first, Pinky pretends your look is just a novelty — “It’s very niche, darling. Like street art... or taxidermy.” But it doesn’t take long before she’s openly swooning over the ripped jeans, the studs, the scuffed boots.
- You’re her guilty pleasure turned open secret, and she loves the scandal of it. A punk boyfriend is practically taboo among Preps, and Pinky eats it up. When Derby makes a disgusted noise at your appearance, she just smirks and fires back, “He actually has a personality, unlike you, cousin.”
- Pinky lives to play the princess — and you? You’re expected to play the knight. She’ll demand you hold her shopping bags, walk her back to her dorm, or fetch her hot chocolate during winter cheer practice. You groan and grumble, but do it anyway, and she knows you’re faking half the protest.
- She’s a champion gift-giver. She’ll hand you vintage pins she’s “sooo over”, silk scarves you end up using as belts, and even gold jewelry from her own stash. She makes it out to be no big deal, but her eyes light up when she sees you wearing her things.
- PDA depends on the setting. In public? She wants the world to see. Arm-in-arm, your hand in hers, like you’re her personal bodyguard in boots and leather. In private? She gets soft. She tugs at the frayed edges of your jacket, curls against your side, and murmurs complaints about her stepmother until she falls asleep on your chest, one hand still clutching your shirt like she’s afraid you’ll vanish.
- She tries to “refine” you in subtle ways — light makeovers, Aquaberry samples, posing you for photos like a project — but she never really wants to change you. She just likes the contrast. Sometimes she even lets you alter her look, and though she’ll roll her eyes and call your additions “garish”, she absolutely struts down the hall with that spiked choker like it’s a designer piece.
- Jealousy hits fast and hard. If another girl so much as looks at you, she’ll swan in, loop her arm through yours, and declare, “Oh, you poor thing — he’s taken. Try someone less interesting.”
- She drags you into couples costumes every Halloween. She’s always the princess — she refuses to compromise there — but she lives for how you add your own punk edge to the knight aesthetic.
- Your defiance is her favourite drug. Yelling at teachers, sneaking smokes behind the gym, blowing off Derby’s rules — she watches you like you’re a fire she wants to get burned by. She knows it’s reckless, but it makes her feel alive in a way nothing else ever has.
- Despite the fights and sass, Pinky lets her guard down with you in ways she doesn’t with anyone else. She laughs too loud at your dumb jokes, sings off-key with you when you blast your tapes, and doesn’t mind if her hair gets a little windblown on your bike. So when she says, “This is true love, you know,” you believe her. Because you’re the only one she doesn’t have to play pretend with.
Tad Spencer:
- At first, Tad tries to file you under “threat to reputation.” That’s what he’s been trained to do. Everything in his life has always been about appearances — about clawing his way above Derby, about earning a father’s approval that never comes. You don’t fit the picture: ripped jeans, loud music, a grin that dares anyone to judge you. You’re chaos, and Tad’s whole world is built on control. But he can’t stop circling back.
- He tells himself it’s fascination, not affection. And yet, every time he sees you — leaning against lockers, laughing like you mean it — his chest tightens. You don’t care about Bullworth’s rules. You don’t play by his father’s game. You don’t shrink to fit any mold. And that freedom? It’s intoxicating to a boy raised in fear.
- Around you, the act cracks. The faux-British lilt, the rehearsed superiority, the cutting remarks — they all slip when you’re near. You’re the only one who sees him. Really sees him. He’s so used to being orbited for his name, his money, his proximity to power, that genuine attention feels foreign. You don’t ask about Spencer Shipping or how many acres his estate covers. You ask about the way his voice drops when he talks about things that hurt. And you listen. You stay. He hates that you witness the fallout, but he also needs you there more than he can admit.
- Control is his instinct; tenderness is his weakness. He’ll try to boss you around, parroting the tone he grew up hearing: “Don’t hang around those Greasers. They’re beneath you.” You roll your eyes. Later, when a fight breaks out, he puffs up, loud and performative — his father’s voice spilling out of his own throat. Afterward, he trembles. “I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have—” And when you touch his hand, the apology breaks into something softer.
- Jealousy comes out sideways. He doesn’t know how to ask for reassurance, so he scoffs instead. He’ll toss out a cutting, “My boyfriend, though tragically unfashionable, is still mine,” when someone flirts with you. Then he’ll steal your jacket the next day and deny that he’s sleeping with one of your patched shirts under his pillow. (He absolutely is.)
- Your chaos drags him into small rebellions. He’s not about to shave his head or tear his Aquaberry clothing, but he’ll wear a single stud earring “ironically”. He’ll sneak out to a grimy basement show in Blue Skies under the guise of “studying trade operations at the docks.” The first time he gets caught in a mosh pit, he cries about his ruined vest — and then admits it’s the most alive he’s felt in years.
- You teach him to breathe. Underneath the polish is anger he’s never been allowed to show — at Derby, at Bullworth, at the man who made him afraid of everything. You help him turn that anger outward instead of inward. You show him that rebellion isn’t always destruction; sometimes it’s survival.
- You see the damage his father left behind. The way Tad flinches when a hand lifts too fast. The way “I’m sorry, Daddy” slips out when he’s startled. You can’t fix it, but you don’t ignore it. You draw lines — gently, firmly — showing him he’s allowed to have boundaries and softness both. You call him out when he hides behind cruelty. You hold him when he finally lets himself be small. And when he admits in a trembling voice, “I’m scared I’ll never be enough,” — for his clique, for his father, for anyone — you just pull him close. “You don’t have to be perfect to be loved,” you tell him. And for once, he believes you.
- Publicly, the world doesn’t get it. Preps whisper, Greasers scoff, teachers frown. But privately, it works. You make him braver — not by changing him, but by giving him permission to be something beyond his father’s heir, beyond the brittle smile. And somehow, in return, he makes you softer — not by dulling your punk edge, but by proving that gentleness, in a world built on cruelty, is the boldest rebellion of all. Because for all his snide remarks and polished sneers, Tad Spencer has never been truly free — until you showed him he could be.
Can you do Beatrice, Earnest and Pete with a badass gf? Like "they asked for no pickles" dynamic and she beat the shit out of whoever bothers them
thank you for the ask!! i actually tried to be nice to earnest for this one.
📚 Beatrice, Pete and Earnest x Badass!GF Reader HCs 📚
Beatrice Trudeau:
- Beatrice did not expect her love life to look like this. Statistically speaking, romance was supposed to come after she got into medical school, after she finished at least one research project, and after she single-handedly cured cancer to prove her point. She had a plan. A ten-year plan. And then you suplexed someone because they called her “metal mouth,” and she felt her entire frontal cortex misfire.
- Suddenly, the periodic table wasn’t the only thing she could recite from memory — she could list every time you’d stepped in front of her, chin tilted up, daring anyone to try something. (She absolutely tells Bucky about it in excruciating detail. Bucky has endured the play-by-play of every single fight you’ve ever gotten into on her behalf. He is suffering.)
- She studies harder than ever with you around, because suddenly getting into medical school doesn’t feel like a climb she’s making alone. She loves how you treat her ambitions like they matter. You don’t laugh. You don’t tell her it’s impossible. You just say, “of course you will” like it’s a foregone conclusion.
- There are little moments that show how deeply she cares. When you come back from a fight with your knuckles bruised, Beatrice sits you down in the library, pushing aside stacks of lab notes so she can tend to your hands with the seriousness of a surgeon-in-training. She scolds you gently, voice soft and warm: “You can’t keep injuring yourself like this. What if you fractured something?” But there’s a fondness to it. She’s not asking you to stop protecting her. She’s asking you to let her take care of you, too.
- People eventually stop bullying her when you’re around. They stop trying. You don’t even have to do anything — someone mentions her braces or calls her “four eyes,” and you just glare. That’s enough.
- Except Mandy. Mandy tests you. She tells Beatrice she’ll never make it onto the cheer squad, that she’ll never amount to anything. And before you can even open your mouth, Beatrice holds up a hand. “No. I’ve got this one.”
- And she does. Beatrice feels invincible when you’re leaning against the wall behind her, arms crossed, that look on your face like you’re daring anyone to make your day. You uplift her by making her feel safe without making her feel small. And she’s going to spend the rest of her life showing the world that it was a brilliant choice.
Pete Kowalski:
- Pete never expected anyone to pick him. He’s used to living in the margins — the quiet shadow to Jimmy’s chaos, the guy who drifts to the back in group photos, the one bullies target because they know he won’t fight back. He’s mastered being unobtrusive. Safe. Small. And then there’s you.
- You’re the exact opposite of everything he learned to be. Loud with your presence, sure in your stance, the kind of person who speaks with your chest and means it. The first time someone shoved Pete in the hallway and you shut it down — no hesitation, no waiting for him to defend himself — his world tilted. Not because you fought, but because you didn’t look at him like he was weak. You looked at him like he something worth protecting.
- At first, he tries to downplay how much it affects him. He shrugs and says, “Yeah, she’s just, uh… good at standing up for people.” Even though everyone knows you nearly body-checked a Prefect for talking down to him. He gets flustered when you sling your arm around his shoulders. His entire neck blooms pink. He ducks his head, tries to hide the smile that always breaks through anyway.
- He’s not helpless. He wants you to know that. He studies strategy, watches martial arts tutorials, promises he’ll take karate lessons “one of these days.” And you don’t laugh. You nod, like yeah, he could. Like you see a version of him that isn’t small at all.
- When he’s sitting on the couch in the boys’ dorm, TV murmuring in the background, ranting about how Gary manipulated everyone and how ridiculous the school hierarchy is, you lean against him — not to coddle, but to anchor. And Pete talks clearer when you do. Sharper. He starts sounding less like the boy everyone ignores and more like the boy who could actually change things if only someone had his back.
- And that’s the part that gets him. The quiet safety of you. Everyone else thinks the dynamic is “haha, she’ll beat you up.” But Pete knows better. You give him permission to take up space. You let him breathe. Literally sometimes — you’re the one who notices when his asthma flares during stress and gets him out before he spirals.
- Jimmy jokingly calls you “Pete’s personal bodyguard” but he also sees the way Pete looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching — like you’re the first thing in his life he’s ever felt worthy of wanting. He’s happy that his best friend is finally regaining some self-confidence with you by his side.
- When you stand in front of him, chin lifted, daring anyone to take one more step, Pete isn’t embarrassed. He’s proud. For the first time, someone didn’t just protect him. They chose him. And he chooses you right back every single time.
Earnest Jones:
- Earnest likes to imagine himself as the mastermind behind a grand revolution — a visionary genius held down by the tyranny of meatheads and philistines. He did not account for the revolution showing up in the form of a girl who could fold a Jock in half like a cheap lawn chair.
- He tries so hard to maintain his dignity. Truly. When someone shoves him in the hallway, he’ll start to say something lofty and biting, like, “Brawn is merely brain’s desperate compensation—” but you’ve already grabbed the offender by the collar and introduced their face to a locker door. There’s this pause afterward where Earnest just stands there blinking, mouth agape, as if his brain has to buffer to catch up. Then it switches straight to his ego.
- Suddenly, he’s very comfortable holding your hand in public. Very comfortable making grand declarations about how history will remember your partnership as the first step in the liberation of Bullworth. When you walk him to class, he holds his head higher. Shoulders back. A boy with a bodyguard girlfriend and a deeply unearned sense of political power.
- He adores the dynamic where you’re the silent threat at his shoulder. He talks big — speeches about overthrowing the social order, rallying the Nerds into revolution — but you’re the one who makes people actually listen. When Earnest goes on a tirade about “the oppression of intellectuals” and the other students roll their eyes, all it takes is one glare from you for everyone to suddenly find his speeches deeply compelling. He practically vibrates with glee when someone starts to heckle him and then thinks better of it because they see you cracking your knuckles behind him.
- Even so, he gets jealous sometimes — not of you, but of how effortlessly you command respect. He notices how people step aside. How they don’t dare interrupt. How your presence alone bends the room. He wants that. He wants to be someone people listen to without having to yell. And somehow, being with you makes him feel like he could be.
- You never treat him like he’s weak — that’s what gets him. You treat him like he’s important. Like his ideas matter. Like his plans aren’t just melodramatic delusions of grandeur. On nights when he’s pacing in circles, muttering about how “one day, the Jocks shall fall and the Nerds will ascend” you just sit there, chin in hand, smiling like he’s the most fascinating boy in the world.
- And he loves that. He has always wanted to be understood. He has always wanted someone who sees the revolution and the boy behind it. If someone tries to pick on him now? They learn very, very quickly that they cannot.
Can I request the greasers with a little/younger sibling?
of course!! thank you for the ask! (i honestly felt super inspired by this, so i might make a second set of hcs for this idea with like how the greasers are with their sibling now vs childhood. depends how well this one is received lol)
Greasers with a little/younger sibling HCs!
Johnny Vincent:
- Intensely protective, to the point where it sometimes feels like paranoia. He doesn’t mean to suffocate you—he’s genuinely scared of losing control again.
- Constantly clocking who you talk to, especially distrustful of the influence of older students and very firm about keeping you away from Lola, despite how much he loves her.
- Casually assigns the other Greasers to keep an eye on you when he’s busy, and checks in afterward to make sure they actually did.
- Teaching you bike repair is one of the few times he’s patient and calm.
- Lets you ride on his handlebars when no one’s watching, but will lecture you about helmets and safety nonstop, even though he never follows his own advice. “Helmets don’t make you look lame. Don’t argue with me.” He genuinely believes it’s fine if he gets hurt—just not you.
- Deeply insecure that you’ll be embarrassed of him or think he’s “all talk”. If you call him cool or say you feel safe with him, he melts.
- If someone bullies you, he reacts first and thinks later—no warnings, no second chances.
Peanut Romano:
- Tries really hard to be the chill mentor, but can’t help feeling mildly jealous if anyone else starts teaching you stuff.
- Constantly name-drops you in conversations: “Yeah, I been showin’ the kid the ropes.”
- If you mention someone bothering you, he immediately escalates to violence—even if it’s unnecessary. “Point ‘em out, hero. I’ll take care of it.”
- Puts you on his shoulders “so you can see better”, but it’s also about making himself feel bigger.
- Drags you to races and insists you watch him, glancing over constantly to see if you’re impressed.
- Asks if you think he’s cool under the guise of joking. Absolutely wants to be idolized.
- Lowkey hopes you’ll look up to him the way he does Johnny.
Hal Esposito:
- Instantly falls into the big brother role and takes it very seriously.
- Offers food frequently, especially when you’re quiet or upset, because that’s what he knows works for him and feeding people is how he shows care.
- Surprisingly gentle in both words and body language around you because he knows how intimidating he can be.
- Lets you sit with him at lunch and vents about school, girls, and life like you’re his safe space just as much as he is yours.
- If someone picks on you, he tracks them down later and makes himself very clear. “Leave the kid alone.”
- Big on hugs, but always checks your reaction. If you pull away, he immediately loosens up.
Lefty Mancini:
- Fully convinced that being the older sibling automatically makes him cooler and wiser.
- Plays up the tough-guy act around you, but completely folds when you’re earnest or affectionate.
- Lectures you about not smoking while actively lighting up another cigarette. “Don’t start. It ain’t worth it.”
- Tells exaggerated fight stories and gets defensive if you ask follow-up questions.
- Constantly complains about Preppies and gets especially heated if one mouths off at you.
- Fixes your clothes and hair frequently because wants you to “represent” the Greasers properly.
- Acts like he doesn’t care what you think, but one compliment has him riding that high for days.
Lola Lombardi:
- You become her unexpected soft spot—one of the few people she doesn’t feel like she has to perform for.
- Calls you pet names constantly, half affection, half habit.
- Gives you hand-me-downs and critiques your look in a teasing but affectionate way. “You look cute in that. Not as cute as I do, but still cute.”
- Teaches you how to charm prefects and talk your way out of trouble.
- Snaps harder than anyone ever expects she would if someone talks badly about you.
- Buys you things with other people’s money.
- Gossips endlessly with you, but actually listens when you talk.
- Seeks your approval more than she lets on—she’s never really been someone that people genuinely look up to, but you do.
Lucky De Luca:
- Treats you like an apprentice more than a kid.
- Makes you hold tools and flashlights while he works on cars for HOURS, but explains why he’s doing what he’s doing.
- Gives long, serious lectures about responsibility and honest work.
- Genuinely proud when you remember proper terminology—won’t gush, but he remembers.
- Watches you closely around New Coventry, even if he pretends not to.
- Lowkey uses you as an excuse to skip fights he doesn’t want to be in: “Can’t—gotta take care of the kid today.”
- Disappointment hits harder than anger when you do something reckless—he expects better because he believes in you.
- Quietly hopes you won’t have to struggle the way he did.
Norton Williams:
- Jokes around constantly but never truly lets his guard down where you’re concerned.
- Won’t let anyone else mess with you—not even other Greasers.
- Tries to teach you basic self-defense so you don’t get pushed around.
- If someone breaks your toy/bike? He’ll teach you to fix it yourself so you don’t feel helpless.
- Calls you “kid” forever, regardless of age.
- Gives surprisingly thoughtful advice, then undercuts it with sarcasm.
- Mortified if you catch him enjoying anything “nerdy”, yet he secretly buys you comics and pretends they’re leftovers he “didn’t want anymore”.
Ricky Pucino:
- Buys you bike parts and lets you sit beside him while he works—his version of bonding.
- Trauma-dumps about his breakup constantly without realizing it. “I just—used to think this kinda thing would impress her, y’know?”
- Pauses midway through demonstrating how you grease a chain to ask if you think his ex would be proud of his mentoring.
- Absolutely lights up if you show any interest in bikes.
- Buys you bike magazines and reads them to you like bedtime stories.
- Tries to give pep talks but they somehow always circle back to his heartbreak.
- When you tell him he deserves better, it genuinely shakes his worldview.
Vance Medici:
- Immediately takes responsibility for how you look in public.
- Spends ages styling your hair before you go anywhere. “Hold still—almost perfect. Presentation is everything, kiddo.”
- Complains about you “cramping his style” but takes you everywhere anyway.
- Compliments your looks constantly, half to boost your ego and half because he genuinely wants you to feel confident.
- Will absolutely throw hands if anyone messes with you or your hair.
- Reluctant regressor. Gary absolutely hates showing vulnerability, so if he slips into a regressed state, it's usually triggered by severe stress or emotional breakdowns.
- When regressed, he tends to act like a grumpy 5-year-old: moody, demanding, and sometimes pouty if he feels ignored.
- Needs a safe, quiet space and a very patient caregiver (you) to calm him down. Soft touches and repetitive reassurances help.
- He refuses to admit he likes stuffies but ends up stealing Pete’s when he’s not looking.
- Will want to be held but act like he's doing you a favor by letting you cuddle him.
- Favorite comfort item: an oversized hoodie (yours), snacks like PB&J, and old cartoons.
Pete Kowalski (Regressor):
- Pete is the most naturally regressed of the three. His regression is gentle, quiet, and happens when he’s overwhelmed or feeling neglected.
- Acts around 4-6 years old. Loves coloring, stuffies, and being tucked in at night.
- He clings to his caregiver (you) like a baby duck. Might quietly say “I need cuddles…” when he’s slipping into a little space.
- Likes when you read to him or play soft lullabies. He’s not demanding, just very affectionate.
- His regression can be triggered by raised voices or conflict (especially if Gary is spiraling).
- Favorite comfort item: a soft stuffed bunny, hot cocoa, and finger painting.
Jimmy Hopkins (Regressor):
- Jimmy’s regression is rare and kind of accidental. It might happen after intense physical fights or when he’s trying too hard to be tough.
- Acts like a toddler with a big ego — he’ll want attention, praise, and lots of cuddles but will pretend he’s “fine” until he just melts.
- Likes being rocked, eating snacks from your hand, and falling asleep with his head in your lap.
- Is soothed by physical touch: back rubs, forehead kisses, and holding hands.
- Beam cola makes Jimmy hyper when regressed, so try to keep it away from him.
- Favorite comfort item: warm blankets, juice boxes, and you (he gets clingy).
Gary Smith (Caregiver):
- Surprisingly good at it when he’s in the right headspace. Very controlling, but it makes you feel safe.
- Will give you “strict” routines: snacks, naps, playtime — no negotiations.
- Teases you lightly (“Aww, is baby feeling cranky?”) but is always watching to make sure you’re okay.
- He genuinely cares but pretends it’s all for his own amusement.
- Reads you creepy fairy tales in dramatic voices and builds pillow forts with you.
Pete Kowalski (Caregiver):
- Softest, gentlest caregiver. He speaks quietly, coos at you, and makes sure you always feel seen and loved.
- Very emotionally intuitive. Knows when you need touch vs. space.
- Will bring you little treats from the store and tell you it’s “because you’re the best little one ever.”
- Loves to brush your hair, play soft music, and cuddle with you under a weighted blanket.
Jimmy Hopkins (Caregiver):
- Kind of like a big brother caregiver at first — playful, goofy, teasing.
- But when you’re fully regressed, he takes it seriously. He’ll scoop you up and carry you if he has to.
- Gives the best piggyback rides, helps you pick out your favorite snacks, and will show you his comics.
- Gets flustered when you cry, but he’ll wrap you up in his arms and say “Shh, I got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
hiii!! could u pls do jimmy gary and petey feeling sad or acting out when they r regressed or caring for a reader whos feelimg sad or acting out? tyy xx
thank you for the ask, sweetpea! i was inspired so this is kind of a long one
Jimmy, Pete, and Gary as a regressor/caregiver when sad or acting out HCs!
Jimmy Hopkins (Regressor):
When Sad:
- He bottles everything up until it explodes. One minute he’s stoic, the next he’s curled up in your lap like a toddler trying not to cry.
- His regression is subtle at first—he starts dragging his feet, mumbling, using simpler words, not wanting to be left alone.
- Clings to you and says things like “Don’t go. Just... stay, please.”
- Cries into your hoodie if you let him.
When Acting Out:
- Picks fights and breaks stuff when he feels out of control. He needs someone to put the brakes on.
- Once he’s burnt out, he crashes into little space hard — doesn’t want to talk, just wants to be held and babied.
- He’ll mumble “Sorry…” while playing with your fingers, then fall asleep mid-snuggle.
Pete Kowalski (Regressor):
When Sad:
- Withdraws. Becomes extra quiet, shaky hands, glassy-eyed stares.
- Slips into a very small headspace quickly — lots of thumb-sucking, hiding behind you, or needing his favorite stuffed animal.
- Will whisper “I’m not okay…” and feel safe once you scoop him up and tell him it’s okay to be little.
When Acting Out:
- Rare but happens when he’s overwhelmed or pushed too far — he might yell, slam doors, or even snap at Gary/Jimmy.
- Regression kicks in right after — he immediately feels guilty, curls up under a desk or in a closet.
- Needs you to help him feel better. Gentle affirmations work wonders.
Gary Smith (Regressor):
When Sad:
- Refuses to admit he’s hurting, but it leaks out as sarcasm and lashing out.
- When regression kicks in, it’s like a light switch: suddenly he’s curled into a ball with his knees to his chest, repeating things like “It’s stupid. I hate it.”
- Pouts, throws small tantrums, but you can tell he just wants someone to love him without judgment.
- Needs to be swaddled in a blanket and reassured that he’s safe.
When Acting Out:
- CHAOTIC. Manipulative, loud, sharp-tongued—and then completely shuts down after a meltdown.
- Regression after an episode includes clinging to your side and whispering things like “Don’t leave like they did…”
- He pretends to hate baby talk—but melts when you call him things like “my grumpy little guy.”
Jimmy Hopkins (Caregiver):
- Protective and hands-on. If you’re sad or acting out, he lifts you into his lap, rocks you, and says “Hey, shh… I got you. Just breathe.”
- Will absolutely punch a student (or a prefect) if they upset you while you’re little.
- Takes you outside for fresh air, carries you around, or helps you color when you’re quiet.
- Talks to you like a cool older brother: “You’re the strongest little one I know.”
Pete Kowalski (Caregiver):
- The gentlest. He doesn’t get mad when you cry or act out — he just holds you and says “It’s okay, let it out, I’m here.”
- Brings you your favorite snacks, your comfort item, and sings to you softly.
- Gives the best cuddles—he radiates warmth and always smells like clean laundry.
- He tells you, “You don’t have to be big right now. Just be my little one, okay?”
Gary Smith (Caregiver):
- He's controlling but effective. If you’re spiraling, he immediately takes charge: pulls you into his arms, hushes you, wraps you in a blanket.
- Will quietly say, “You’re safe. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you, not even you.”
- Does NOT tolerate anyone upsetting you. Threatens people who even look at you funny.
- He reads to you in funny voices or lets you hold his sleeve while you walk together.
Bonus: Group Dynamic
When all three are regressors at the same time:
- You’re buried in a cuddle pile. Pete is sniffly, Jimmy is trying to be tough but is holding your hand, and Gary is curled at your side mumbling nonsense.
- You have to rotate between soothing them: reading for Pete, rocking Jimmy, brushing Gary’s hair.
- They get competitive for your attention but eventually settle into a sleepy tangle with you in the middle.
When you’re the regressor:
- Pete gets snacks, Jimmy guards the door, and Gary reads a story while secretly recording it for you to replay when he’s not around.
- You’re swaddled in all three’s arms, surrounded by warmth, and not allowed to lift a finger.
Hello I was wondering if you do general headcannons? Me and my friend were talking about bully yesterday and we realised that most of the characters seem to be only children? So we were wondering like what would some of them be like as older or younger siblings and I’d like to ask for your take on Pete Jimmy and Gary as older or younger siblings. Feel free to ignore this if. you want I totally unserstand.
hey!! first off, thank you so much for the ask. this is such a fun topic and one i hadn’t thought about much before, so i really appreciate you sending it in. i think i wrote these a little harsh so if you wanted them to be softer hcs then i do apologise. 😭
anyway, here’s my take on this!
Jimmy, Gary and Pete as older/younger siblings HCs!
Jimmy Hopkins (Older Sibling):
- Surprisingly protective, even if he acts indifferent at times.
- He’d teach his younger sibling how to fight or stand up for themselves, especially if they were being bullied.
- Might get into trouble for starting fights on their behalf.
- Could be a little bossy or short-tempered, especially if he’s stressed from his own messes, but deep down he takes the older brother role seriously — maybe because he didn’t have anyone to look out for him growing up.
- If the sibling looked up to him, he'd try to act a little more responsibly around them (as much as Jimmy can manage).
Jimmy Hopkins (Younger Sibling):
- Very independent — probably got used to taking care of himself early on, especially if his older sibling was neglectful or absent.
- Resentful if the older sibling tried to parent him, but secretly craved their attention or approval.
- Might have picked up bad habits from an older sibling, or rebelled against them entirely.
- If the older sibling was supportive, though? He'd be fiercely loyal to them — maybe even to the point of idolizing them.
Gary Smith (Older Sibling):
- Extremely manipulative — would treat his younger sibling like a pawn or sidekick.
- Depending on how Gary felt that day, he might either treat them like a mini-me protégé, or a threat to his superiority.
- Would torment the hell out of them, especially if they got praise or attention he thought he deserved.
- On the rare occasion he is nice, it would come with strings attached.
- That said, if anyone outside the family hurt his sibling, Gary would probably go to great lengths to “defend” them — partly out of warped love, partly out of control.
Gary Smith (Younger Sibling):
- He’d have a huge inferiority complex, especially if the older sibling was successful or popular.
- Might start out idolizing them, then slowly begin to resent them and try to outdo them in every way.
- Would absolutely plot against them if he felt they were overshadowing him.
- Alternatively, if his older sibling was awful or abusive, that could be a huge factor in his psychological decline — he might see manipulation as the only way to survive.
Pete Kowalski (Older Sibling):
- Super caring and supportive — the kind of older sibling who helps with homework, talks through problems, and makes a safe space.
- He’d probably be overprotective in quiet ways, like warning teachers or older kids to leave his younger sibling alone.
- Might struggle with setting boundaries if the younger sibling became too dependent on him, since he’s used to being a follower.
- If the sibling got bullied, Pete might feel personally responsible and guilty. The last thing he wants is for them to go through the same loneliness and insecurity he felt at Bullworth.
- May be the type to do little things behind the scenes to make his sibling’s life easier without taking credit.
Pete Kowalski (Younger Sibling):
- Very sweet and kind, but possibly overlooked or dismissed, especially if his older sibling was more outgoing.
- If the older sibling was good to him, Pete would be loyal and try hard to impress them.
- If the older sibling was a jerk, he might become more withdrawn or anxious but still look up to them a lot, even when he’s clearly being taken advantage of (similar to how he follows Gary around).
- Could eventually find strength in carving out his own identity, especially if his sibling set a tough standard to live up to.
can I get headcanons for Ethan or Hal with a very doting and motherly girlfriend, please? :333
of course!! these two don’t get nearly enough recognition in this fandom i fear 🥲
Ethan Robinson and Hal Esposito x motherly, doting GF!Reader
Ethan Robinson:
- Ethan Robinson has always lived halfway inside his own mind. One foot in Bullworth Academy, the other planted firmly in an endless reel of low-budget kung fu movies that color everything he sees. In his head, there’s dramatic lighting no matter the time of day. The halls of Bullworth stretch wider than they really are, every bell ringing like a cue, every shove or side-eye translating into a challenge that must be answered. He moves through school half-expecting a rival to leap out from behind a locker, or a slow-motion showdown to break out by the bike racks.
- You learn this pretty quickly. He talks big — about the Crane, the Tiger, the Frog, whatever style he’s “perfecting” this week — and throws himself into practice with wild enthusiasm and very little self-preservation. To most people, it’s all bluster. A Bully acting tough while throwing the same wild and sloppy punches as the rest of them. But Ethan isn’t lying. He believes it. Every dramatic word, every exaggerated story, every half-remembered movie quote stitched into his own life. Belief is how he survives. Belief is how he makes sense of a world that’s never truly taken responsibility for him.
- Every interaction in his life has been reactive — people responding to the noise he makes, the spectacle he creates. People only notice him when he’s swinging or shouting, so he learned early that pain is the price of being seen. He views his body as something expendable, something to throw into lockers and concrete and other kids’ fists in exchange for a moment of relevance. He never stretches, never rests, trains until his knuckles split and his shoulders lock up, then tapes himself together and calls it discipline. Still, no one ever looks at him and thinks this boy needs to be taken care of. Until you.
- You don’t come crashing into his life. You don’t challenge him or laugh at him or ask him to prove anything. You just notice things. You notice how he forgets to eat when he’s been “training” all day. How he never warms up, never cools down, never gives his body a break. One day there’s a snack pressed into his hand. Another day, a bottle of water. Then a calm, steady voice saying, “Sit. Five minutes. Then you can go back to whatever it is you’re doing.” He listens before he even realizes he’s decided to.
- There’s something about you that short-circuits his usual expectations. You don’t tease. You don’t scold. You don’t sound impressed or annoyed. You talk to him like his body matters — like it’s something to take care of, not just throw into walls for fun. Ethan has no defenses for that. None at all.
- You see the details no one else does. The way he rolls his shoulders like they ache. How he flexes his fingers between classes, jaw tight, like he’s counting down the minutes until he can hit something again. The scabs that never quite heal because he keeps reopening them. “Ethan,” you murmur one afternoon, gently catching his wrist before he can pull away. “Your hands are a mess, baby. Let me help you.” He goes completely still. Not tense—frozen. Like he’s waiting for the punchline. “…I’m good,” he says automatically, softer than he means it. Less sure.
- You don’t argue. You don’t rush. You guide him to sit, pulling bandages from your bag and wrapping his hands carefully, like this is normal, like he’s allowed to need this. He watches your fingers the whole time, heart loud in his ears, afraid to move in case the moment breaks.
- After that, the little things start adding up. You straighten his collar when it’s crooked. Brush lint off his shirt. Tug his gloves onto his hands in winter because he always forgets them. When he complains, it’s half-hearted. “C’mon, I’m fine.” “I know,” you answer gently. “Still.” That word sticks with him. Care without conditions. Care without payment.
- His obsession with martial arts isn’t really about violence. It’s about control. Order. Becoming someone worthy of respect. Kung fu movies taught him that warriors are disciplined, focused, honorable — that suffering is a path to meaning, and he’s held onto that lesson for years. You listen when he rambles about chi and fighting styles, nodding like it all matters because it matters to him. You ask questions. You let him talk himself in circles. Sometimes you gently suggest safer ways to practice, or movies that actually explain technique, and he takes it seriously — because it came from you.
- He practices near you, always within eyesight as he shows off new “moves”, glancing over mid-pose to see if you’re watching. His heart races every time he catches your eye. When he wobbles or nearly eats pavement, your hands are already there to steady his shoulders. “Slow down,” you tell him softly. “Breathe first.” No one has ever framed restraint as strength for him before. The idea settles deep, heavy and strange, and he thinks about it long after you’ve gone.
- Once Ethan realizes your care isn’t a joke or a trick, he stays. Soon, he walks you between classes without comment. Stands close enough that your shoulders brush. He never says why, he just feels better when you’re near. At night, when he’s worn out and quiet for once, he leans into you like he’s still surprised you don’t move away. You smooth his curls back absentmindedly, let him rest his head on your shoulder. Sometimes you press small kisses to his cheek or his jaw, gentle and unassuming.
- Little by little, Ethan’s bullying starts to feel off to him. Less satisfying. When you talk about strength as protection instead of domination, he latches onto the idea fiercely. He still postures, still talks big — but now there’s hesitation. When the Bullies push someone too far, Ethan pauses. He starts redirecting himself. Putting distance between the chaos and the kid who doesn’t deserve it. Dressing it up as “discipline” so he can live with it — but the change is real.
- One evening, half-asleep beside you, he murmurs, barely audible, “One day… I’ma master my style for real. The Devastator ain’t just for hurtin’ people. I’ll protect you from anything.” You kiss his forehead and tell him he already does. He hums, thoughtful, and drifts off with his weight warm and solid against you.
- Ethan Robinson has always lived in fantasy because reality never offered him gentleness. With you, he doesn’t have to perform. He doesn’t have to bleed to be worthy of care. He learns — slowly, clumsily — that being looked after doesn’t make him weak. It gives him somewhere safe to lay his strength down and let himself soften, suddenly a boy rather than a warrior.
Hal Esposito:
- Hal Esposito learned early that if the world believed it was entitled to opinions about bodies like his, he might as well beat them to it. So he moves fast. Faster than people expect. Loves that exact moment when someone underestimates him and reality snaps back into place — the surprise when he charges, when his weight turns into momentum instead of mockery. He cracks jokes about his weight before anyone else can. Leans into the threat of it. Makes it absurd, makes it funny, makes it his. If people are going to stare, he’ll give them a show worth staring at.
- But confidence like that doesn’t come from nowhere. The leather jacket’s always a little too tight, the cigarette tucked behind his ear like he’s auditioning for some old-school tough guy role. It’s all deliberate. Armor, really. Built layer by layer, joke by joke, until the soft parts are buried deep enough that nobody can poke them. What no one ever asks is how tiring that gets.
- Hal is used to feeding himself. Emotionally as much as physically. If something hurts, he eats. If he’s uncomfortable, he jokes. If the world presses in, he makes himself bigger — louder, harder to move, impossible to ignore. It’s instinct now. Survival dressed up as bravado.
- Then there’s you. You don’t approach him like he’s a spectacle or a threat. You don’t test him, don’t hover, don’t look like you’re bracing for impact. You just sit beside him. Close enough that your shoulder brushes his arm, casual like it’s always been that way. Like his presence doesn’t need explaining or justifying. That alone throws him.
- You don’t pretend his size doesn’t exist — but you don’t make it the point, either. You pull him into conversations naturally, share space with him without hesitation, talk to him instead of around him. He notices that you don’t pause before leaning in, don’t adjust yourself like you’re unsure. You just belong there. And somehow, by extension, so does he.
- You never police what he eats. Never turn food into a moral issue. You don’t watch his hands or comment on portions. Instead, meals become something shared. Sometimes you bring him his favourites — cheeseburgers still warm in their paper, fries tucked in the bag like an afterthought you remembered because you care. Sometimes you just sit close while he eats, leaning lightly into his side like his weight is something you trust. When he reaches for food because he’s hurting, you don’t stop him. You check in. A soft, easy, “You okay, babe?” that gives him room to answer — or not.
- The first time he admits, half-joking and half dead serious, that he eats to “mask emotional pain”, he expects you to laugh it off. Or get awkward. Or start worrying out loud like it’s a problem to fix. You just nod. Maybe squeeze his hand. “That makes sense,” you say gently. “A lot of people do.” That simple acceptance hits harder than any reassurance ever could.
- Hal’s used to attraction being weird around him. Either people fixate on his size in a way that feels invasive, or they won’t look past it at all. He knows the categories. He learned not to ask for softness because softness rarely comes without strings. But with you, his body isn’t a spectacle.
- You touch him like you expect him to be solid — like that solidity is comforting. Your hands rest easily on his arm, his back, his waist. When you hug him, you don’t hesitate or adjust; you sink in. Sometimes you lean your full weight into him without thinking, trusting he’ll hold you. He always does. Every time, it does something small but powerful to his chest.
- Hal’s never really had someone take charge of him gently. Authority usually comes with judgment — rules, lectures, expectations. With you, it’s different. You notice when he’s had a bad day before he says anything: his jokes get sharper, his appetite quicker, his posture more rigid. So you sit him down. Pull him close. Run your hand slow and steady over his back until his breathing evens out. He melts every single time, like his body’s been waiting for permission to rest. It’s only afterward that it hits him how badly he needed that.
- His care, in return, is practical and sincere. Food is his first language of affection. He notices when you haven’t eaten and offers something without thinking. Over time, you gently teach him that sometimes what you need isn’t a meal — it’s rest, or reassurance, or him sitting beside you, solid and unmoving, so you don’t feel like you’re holding everything alone. He learns, slowly but earnestly.
- Hal isn’t the type to make big emotional speeches, but the important stuff slips out anyway when he’s relaxed — between bites of a burger, or when you’re leaning against him somewhere quiet. He admits he knows people judge him. That he jokes first because it gives him control. That sometimes he wonders if he’d be easier to love if he took up less space. You don’t rush to contradict him. You answer honestly. You tell him you like the way he fills rooms. The way his laugh carries. The way his presence makes things feel grounded and safe. He goes quiet after that — not upset. Just sitting with it, turning it over, letting himself want to believe it.
- Once he feels secure, his affection turns deeply domestic. He likes being useful — bringing things, hovering when you’re tired, checking in — but he also likes being looked after. Likes when you tell him to drink water. When you check his temperature with your hands. When you rest your head on his chest and sigh like that’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.
- With you, he doesn’t have to armor up so hard. You’ll tell him if something’s wrong — and you’ll still stay. When he admits small truths about shame or doubt, you listen. You kiss his temple. You tell him he’s safe. That he’s good. It steadies him in a way nothing else ever has. “You make me feel like I don’t gotta prove anything,” he says once, voice low.
- Hal Esposito built a life around being impossible to ignore — bigger, louder, harder to hurt. With you, he doesn’t have to perform or deflect. He can be big and soft and stubborn and affectionate all at once. A boy who eats his feelings, loves deeply, and is finally learning what it feels like to be cared for without conditions. And he returns that care the only way he knows how: consistently, solidly, and with his whole heart.
