#...no ginger ale either

[temerity14]

writing this has made me realise that I am very autistic

Alright. We’re settling this discourse once and for all.

In the tags, tell me your opinion on:

Mayonnaise

Frozen Yogurt 

Salt and Vinegar Chips

Sweet Potatoes

Kiwi

Ginger Ale

Microwave Ramen

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Good evening! I (27F) work at a somewhat mid-tier hotel (you can expect to pay 175 to 250 per night kinda place in a somewhat good area) So i deal with a lot of entitled guests that try to snatch and run when they think the desk was left alone. Am i the a-hole for charging them the most expensive items (even if i know they grabbed a small item) and leaving a note that they steal in their reservation? (they can't see the note at check-out)

What are these acronyms?

[red-dye40]

my latest staff icebreaker question has been “if you were a scented candle what would you smell like” so let me know :)

[toiletdestroyer3415]

uuhhhmmm. okay so shockingly orange juice plus ginger ale isn't that bad tbh.

[dreamieparadise]

I KNEW YOU WOULD GET THE PSYCHIC NUDGE NUDGE FROM MY MAIN BLOG TO REBLOG THAT. one braincell behavior 😌😌😌😌😌😌😌

Yaaaay! We be connecting

Ngl queen, love this for us, but which post was it exactly? Leaning towards the game disks or the star plushies bc I feel like you wouldn't come here for the Jellyfish. 😭

[naomiknight-17]

I cannot live on bread alone

I also need ginger ale

[broke-on-books]

😍😍😍

[bots-squibbles]

Oh man..... Imagine a lil 6 pack of different swablu flavors/colors 🥺😭💕

SODA ‼️

[invisiblyvisiblejay]

my sister got me a sprite i can almost forgive her for giving me covid

[inkdrinkerworld]

“Remmy look!” You point to a little jumper that certainly won’t fit either of you but he smiles anyway.

You’re seven months pregnant and Lily had warned you both that nesting took real effect now.

You’re out in town, just looking for little bits and odd ends to finish your baby’s nursery and a few more wintery clothes for them.

The jumper you’re pointing at is a small, buttercup yellow knitted thing and you can just see how perfect it would look on your daughter.

Instinctively, your hand rubs down your bump.

“Let’s have a look around then, dove.”

He helps you over the steps and further into the store. Remus realises belatedly that this may not have been the best idea because even he gets sucked into the tiny jumpers and onesies that would no doubt look adorable on your baby girl.

“Three things,” you limit the both of you, but both you and Remus know you’ll more likely be leaving with three bags.

You pick up the knitted jumper first, the pale buttercup yellow gorgeous and soft and it makes you wonder if they’d have your size too.

Remus picks the next thing, a cute baby blue onesie with little bunnies on them and booties with grips on the feet. “She’s gonna be so tiny.” He mutters, wonder taking over his tone because it’s truly amazing to think about.

“She is.” You browse around the store for a bit again, when you spot it.

The most gorgeous red and green plaid night dress- it’s also the most Christmas thing ever but you’re having a winter baby, it can’t be helped.

“Remus, look at it.” You waddle to the rack with the dress and rifle through till you find a newborn size and a size that she’ll be able to wear this time next year.

You hold it against your belly, slightly out of breath while Remus smiles. You glow with something fierce and even more powerful with your pregnancy, this sort of beauty that he harps on at night while you’re both soft and warm from a shower in your comfies while he rubs lotion on your bump.

“We’ll have to get booties for her, and maybe even stockings.”

You find them and get out of the store, the cashier smiling at you as Remus rubs your back when there’s a harsh kick against your ribs.

“Ready to get home? I just have to put the cottage pie in the oven.” He asks as he taps his card, your head resting on his bicep.

“Could we get a ginger ale on the way back?”

Remus nods, kissing your temple.

He holds open the door for you, hand on the small of your back as you walk down the step. “Just have to pop into the bookstore to pick up the books we ordered and we can get going, dove.”

[kaleldobrev]

Just Right

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester

Summary: Dean hates when you’re sick. Not only can he not kiss his best girl without the possibility of getting sick himself. But you also can’t make one of his favorite things to start off his day: his morning coffee.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing (2x)

Author's Note: Apologies for not tagging people | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

As much as you hated being sick, you knew that Dean hated when you were just as much, maybe a bit more. Whenever either of you were sick – which wasn’t often thankfully – you two had your own sick routine, a routine that Dean despised doing, but understood the reasoning behind it.

When you had found yourself sick, you would sequester yourself into another bedroom of the Bunker and curl up in your favorite blankets while wearing your designated sick pajamas. Your sick pajamas as you called them consisted of some of your favorite things that always tended to bring you comfort: a pair of Dean’s gray sweatpants, one of his band t-shirts that you borrowed with the promise of returning it but never did, one of Dean’s flannels, and a pair of fuzzy socks.

Over the course of your sick time, you had found yourself doing an assortment of different things: trying to find something to watch on Netflix that you and Dean weren’t currently watching together, attempting to read one of your favorite books, or just straight sleeping. Dean would either text or call you, sometimes even knocking on the door and talking through the door to you. If he was feeling extra cheesy, he would slip you a note underneath the door. He would always ask you the same question: Do you need anything? Your answer would always be the same, “My usual sick meal.” A meal that consisted of a hot cup of tea with lemon and honey, Dean’s version of chicken noodle soup, Ritz crackers, and a ginger ale. Whenever he made this meal for you, you would always tell him to leave the tray outside the door so you wouldn’t get him sick, but without fail, each and every time, he would come into the room with tray in hand, and either kiss you on the top of the head and forehead and say, “My gorgeous sick baby,” before you rolled your eyes and threatened to throw a pillow at him.

When Dean had found himself sick, you would still be the one to leave the bedroom – despite your beloved boyfriend being the one trying to get you to stay with him, because all he really wanted to do was cuddle with you; he was extra clingy sick. But you had to play bad guy, telling him that as much as you had wanted to cuddle with him more than anything, you didn’t want to get sick.

You would tell Dean that he needed to try his best to stay sequestered in his room as to not get you or Sam sick – Jack and Cas were the ones that you didn’t have to worry about thankfully; but without fail, Dean would always leave the bedroom, walking around the Bunker coughing and sneezing. You would be close behind him, with a couple rolls of disinfected wipes the moment he left the room, your shirt covering your mouth and nose as to not inhale the germs.

You would do the same thing that Dean would do for you, calling, texting, or slipping a note underneath the door asking him if he needed anything from you. Your usual answer would be your sickness meal, his usual answer would be: “I wanna cuddle with my Sweetheart.” When you would reject that, he would ask for the second best thing: “My usual sick meal.” A meal that consisted of a not one, but two grilled cheese sandwiches, a side of tomato soup with saltines on the side, a can of ginger ale and a tiny glass of whiskey. Although you would tell Dean not to come into the room when you were sick to drop the food off, you never listened to your own advice. You always walked into the room with the tray of food and promptly kissed him on the forehead or cheek and say, “My handsome sick boy.” Followed by him smacking your ass as you walked away.

Although Dean and you hated when either of you were sick because you couldn’t be intimate with each other, one of the biggest reasons Dean hated when you were sick in particular is because you couldn’t make him his morning coffee. Yes, Dean was more than capable of making his own coffee in the morning, or he could easily go to the café downtown to grab a cup; but ever since you moved into the Bunker, those two things just never tasted right again to him. Because once having a taste of the way you had made it, he couldn’t have it any other way.

It was one of those rare times in which you were sick, and you knew exactly how you had gotten sick too. About a few days ago, you, Sam, and Dean went on a case together in Topeka where each of you interviewed a different member of the family. Sam and Dean interviewed the parents while you interviewed their child – a child who happened to be insanely sick. While interviewing the child, she kept on sneezing and coughing and at one point had wiped her snot coated hand on your arm when trying to reach for the tissues behind you. As soon as the three of you had gotten to the Bunker, you knew that something wasn’t right, as you were starting to exhibit the same symptoms as the little girl was.

You were sequestered in your designated sick room, wearing your designated sick pajamas, completely under the covers; a combination of being hot and cold at the same time. Your phone was propped up on a pillow that was lying next to you; Dean was on Facetime with you in your shared bedroom. “I think this is the worst I’ve ever felt.” You said, your voice sounded super nasally, and weak.

“Well, you still look and sound hot to me.” Dean told you, a grin on his lips. You couldn’t help but shake your head at his comment, disagreeing with him. “What? I don’t give a rats ass if your nose is running like a faucet and you look like Rudolf. You’re still fucking hot to me.”

“Dean, I look like I haven’t slept in days and on the verge of death and I sound like a toddler. I honestly have no idea how any of this is remotely hot to you.” You sniffled, grabbing a tissue from next to you in bed and blowing into it.

“To be fair Sweetheart, I always look like I’m on the verge of death and you still think I’m hot.” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Dean, you manage to look hot no matter what you do. It’s an oddly weird talent that you have.” You sniffled again, tossing the tissue you just used into the trash can.

He shrugged his shoulders again, almost as if he was agreeing with you. “Do you need anything from the kitchen? I’m about to go make my own coffee cause somebody can’t do it.”

You rolled your eyes and coughed. “Well, I’m sorry that your barista is sick. She can always make it for you, but I can’t promise that there won’t be hints of mucus in it.”

Dean gave you a disgusted look, shivering at the thought of your comment. “Okay, okay. Please, don’t ruin coffee for me. Coffee is one of the few joys that I have in this life.”

Dean walked into the kitchen, and gave Sam a slight head nod in his direction who was already sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and his laptop. “There’s still some coffee in the pot if you want any.” Sam said, turning in his chair to face Dean who had started to make his way to the fridge. “I know it’s not how Y/N usually makes it but, I know you like the way I make it too.”

“Correction, I used to like the way you made it.” Opening the fridge Dean grabbed some milk and chocolate syrup and placed them on the counter in front of him. “Do you know how Y/N makes it? Cause she won’t tell me. And I feel like if anyone would know, it would be you.”

Sam gave Dean a questioning look. “Me? Why would Y/N tell me how she makes it?”

“Cause you’re her best friend. She tells you everything.” Dean knew for a fact that you had told Sam a lot; because more often than not, Sam would casually bring up something that Dean knew for a fact that him and you had talked about, and there would be no possible way for him to know that unless you were the one that told him.

“But you’re her boyfriend Dean. I feel like boyfriend trumps best friend in most cases.” Sam took a sip from his mug before closing his laptop and walked over to the counter, bringing his mug along with him.

“You know what they say Sammy, bros before well…hoes.” Dean gave Sam a grin, shrugging slightly.

“I think you might have insulted yourself with that one.” Sam said, finishing up his coffee. “So you really have no idea how she makes it uh?”

Dean shook his head. “No freaking clue. All I know is she puts milk and chocolate syrup in it.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret Dean.” Sam began to say.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I…She told me to never tell you how she makes the coffee, but…she did tell me.” Sam finally confessed.

“Well? Would you like to share with the rest of the class?”

Sam grinned and walked over to the cabinet. He reached all the way into the back and took out a box of Keurig cups and placed the box onto the counter. Dean eyed the box for a moment before picking it up. “Dunkin’ Donuts?” Dean asked, sounding slightly confused.”

“Her special coffee she makes you? It’s just Dunkin’ Donuts Keurig cups with a dash of milk and a spoonful of Hershey’s chocolate syrup.”

“Son of a bitch…” Dean mumbled.

A Few Days Later…

With your sickness behind you, you were finally back to your old self; which meant that you can about your somewhat normal routine. You were excited to be able to hunt again, and you were excited to finally fall asleep to and wake up next to your beloved boyfriend. But despite the normalcy that you were excited to get back to, you knew that there was one thing that Dean was excited about – you being able to make his morning coffee again.

Quickly throwing the Dunkin’ Donuts Kuerig cup into the trash, you took Dean’s coffee cup and placed it onto the island counter in front of you; smiling as he walked in. “Morning Sicky,” Dean grinned, and you simply rolled your eyes.

Walking up to the counter, he looked at the mug and gestured toward it. “Is that?” And you nodded. He rubbed his hands together like an excited little kid before he took the mug from the counter, slowly blowing the contents to cool it down a bit. Taking a sip, he felt like he was in Heaven – not actual Heaven of course cause there were no dick angels around, but pretty close.

“Good?” You asked, and Dean nodded. As much as he wanted to tell you that he knew the secret to your coffee, he was never going to; because this was one secret that you deserved to have for yourself, even if Sam and Dean both knew.

[ssahotchnerr]

Hiya Katie! How about domestic Aaron pampering her when he find out she's pregnant and jack makes her a get well soon card because he thinks she's sick but she tells him he's going to be a big brother and jacks ecstatic and Aaron is just like all smiley and happy about being a father again and maybe hoping for a girl because hotch is such a girl dad like 🤭🤭 also I love your work so much! It makes my day! Your an amazing writer ❤

newest addition

thank you so much & ughh that's the sweetest <3333 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, pregnancy, reference to vomiting wc; 1.1k

"buddy, what are you doing?"

you've been awake for awhile now, unwilling to part from the comfort of bed. your eyes are still closed, and in curiosity, you keep them that way.

"i made mom a get-well card." jack's voice is closer than aaron's, and you can hear him shuffling at your bedside. you hear a soft crinkle of a paper, a quick stagger of your water glass, as he sets the paper against it. "i heard her throwing up this morning, so i wanted to make her feel better."

morning sickness has been your worst enemy so far during your pregnancy. it was what made you question if you were pregnant at the very start, and has been frequently reoccurring throughout your first trimester. it feels like the majority of your time these days is either spent in the bathroom, or in bed absolutely overwhelmed with nausea.

if permitting - when you're leant over the toilet, aaron is always seated on the bathroom floor beside you; rubbing your back in soothing circles, holding back your hair when necessary, whispering an apology or words of encouragement. you insist he doesn't need to be present, the sounds and visual of you retching surely disgusting nonetheless. but he insists he remain put, joking it's rather romantic actually, there's no place he'd rather be.

but in all seriousness, he claims it's the least he could do, and wants to support you in all and any way he can.

even this morning at promptly five am, you had made a mad dash to the bathroom. aaron, never the light sleeper, accompanied you in the bathroom just as quickly as you had entered it.

his tenderness doesn't stop there; he'll grab your ginger ale, crackers, pretzels, anything to relieve your queasiness and keep it at bay. he even joked (but did consider) with the idea of buying you a mini fridge to keep in your bedroom - for even easier access. or if he's not home, you don't have to search far.

the two of you have known about your new littlest addition for a few weeks, and couldn't be more ecstatic. jack - not just yet. but you figure that's a case that will soon be remedied.

you can hear a soft chuckle escape from aaron, and you can easily picture the smile you know is on his face. "that's real nice of you bud, i know she'll love it. but in the meantime, c'mon, let's let her sleep, yeah?"

you hear jack's sock-covered feet pad away on the carpet, the sound of the door softly shutting following soon after.

you fall back asleep without meaning to, exhaustion reigning over your body. but an hour later, and after tearfully looking at jack's card, his scribbly print wishing you well and a doodle of yourself and him, you find the two of them in the living room; jack's on the carpet, busied by legos, while aaron's on the couch, watching some show on the television.

aaron notices you before jack does, raising an eyebrow slightly in question - silently seeking confirmation on how you are feeling now.

you give him a nod, and he seems to relax more against the back of the couch. as you join him, jack's eyes lift.

"c'mere," you pat the empty spot between you and aaron, and soon enough, jack's sandwiched between the two of you, curled more so into your side. aaron grabs the remote, clicking off the tv.

"thank you so much for the card." you place a kiss on the top of his head, your arm going around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. "you're the sweetest, have i ever told you that?"

"all the time." jack says, his emphasis making you laugh gently. but concern quickly fills his face, his eyes a bit troubled. "are you sick?"

you shake your head, brushing some hair away from his forehead. "nope."

the concern is now replaced by confusion. his eyebrows furrow, making him look extremely like this father. "why'd you throwed up?"

"well..." you exchange a look with aaron, glancing at him overtop jack's head. there's a smile tugging at his lips, a small sparkle in his eyes. "sometimes... it happens. when you're going to have a baby."

it takes jack a few seconds to internalize what you've just told him. but his head whips up to look at you, and then aaron, and then back to you. his eyes are wide. "a baby?"

"a baby." aaron confirms, arching an eyebrow in question. "any objections to being a big brother?"

"no!" jack vigorously shakes his head, his face lighting up even more, grinning from ear to ear. "really?!"

you grin right back. "really."

jack nearly jumps right onto you in excitement, aaron's hands flying out to catch him so the fall isn't as forceful. his gentle warning of careful, is barely audible over jack's next inquiry.

"is it a girl?!"

"we don't know yet," aaron answers, his voice catching slightly which prompts your gaze to switch to him. there's tears threatening his eyes, pooling at his waterline. you swear, you've never seen him so happy.

you help him, adding on, "we'll find out in a few more weeks."

jack nods at this information, still buzzing. "i really really want a sister. but a brother would be super cool too."

aaron nudges jack with his elbow, lips quirking into a smile. "i really, really do too. but more than anything, a healthy baby is what we want."

"a healthy baby." jack agrees, with a small nod of his head. his arms wrap around yourself, burying his face slightly into your abdomen. "that's so cool! i can't wait."

now it's your turn to look at aaron, tearful.

somehow, now that jack is aware, your family feels more complete. you and aaron have talked about growing your family, have discussed it with jack, for as long as you can remember - what it'll be like, having another little hotchner running around and causing havoc, potential names have been tossed around, jack wants to teach his expertises, legos and soccer. you’re eager to see a newborn in aaron’s arms, the new-dad-to-another glow present in him. at the time, it was distant; all memories to hopefully be made someday.

that time, that someday, has finally arrived. and if jack's reaction is anything to go by, you just know, the two of them will the absolute best of friends.

you can’t wait, either.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 12 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna noticed that a new poem by her favorite, amateur writer had been posted, she was afraid to read the finality in his tone. But Bob always managed to surprise her. And maybe she could find a way to surprise Kevin, too.

Warnings: Angst, Kevin is a dick, adult language, 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

After that, it was radio silence. Anna didn't reach out to Bob, and he didn't try to either. He went to the Hard Deck on Friday night and lasted about an hour before excusing himself. Nobody asked him why he was bailing after one ginger ale and a single cup of peanuts, and that was enough to tell him that everyone knew. Everyone knew he slept with Anna. Everyone knew she was married. Everyone knew that they shouldn't talk about it in front of him for fear that the ladies would snap their necks. Even Nat was being very kind and considerate which wasn't really like her at all. 

When Bob was halfway to the door, he felt a small hand curl around the back of his bicep. "I'll see you tomorrow night for D&D?"

He nodded down at Jessica's hopeful face. "Yeah. I can pick you up if you want."

Her face brightened a little bit. "I'll text you in the morning." He turned to walk out, and her hand slid down his arm. "Hey, Bob? Don't give up hope on her, okay?"

He didn't know how to respond, so he just kept walking. He had no idea what to say or what to think. It wasn't like he could stop loving someone overnight. He didn't really want to either. Anna's life was quite frankly messier than he had ever expected. She did a pretty good job of hiding it from everyone, and it seemed like she would have continued down that path if they didn't have sex. And that was the other issue; it wasn't just sex to Bob. Anna knew about the things he tried to hide himself, and she seemed to want him in that moment anyway. 

Her words from the previous night made him ache. 

'You're perfect. You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them.'

If that meant she was in love with him or that she thought she could be someday, then he was afraid to walk away from her. But now he was terrified of getting hurt or somehow hurting Anna like Kevin had. Part of him believed if he could just see Anna's husband with his own eyes, confirm that he was exactly the way she described him, then he might be able accept that she just needed time to settle her divorce and to heal. If that was the case, he wanted to make it work. 

In the meantime, when he got home, he ended up standing in his living room, staring at his bookshelf before going upstairs and staring at his bed. He could still picture her red hair all spread out for him. He could still feel it between his fingers as the silky strands slid along his palm. He could taste her on his tongue. He could hear her telling him what she wanted.

Bob picked up his computer and slipped under the covers, knowing he wasn't going to be able to sleep right now.

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

It had been there since early Saturday morning. A new one. Anna desperately wanted to read it and memorize it like she had the others, but she was afraid to face the finality. Her email alert mocked her every time she looked at it.

Sky Writing has posted a new, original work! Click the link below to check out the subscriber that you follow!

Bob wrote a new poem, and she didn't think she could handle reading exactly how he viewed her now. He'd never be like Kevin, openly belittling her or putting her down, but she knew the shiny packaging had been removed now, and he saw what was really inside. Just a mess of a human. She put off reading it and put off reading it, but when she was sitting at her desk at work on Monday, she made herself decide between reading the new poem or calling Kevin. After a fairly short debate, she decided to read the poem. It was probably so bad, calling Kevin later wouldn't even feel painful in comparison. 

She tapped on the link in her email and was taken to something so unexpected, she gasped as she read it.

There is empty space on my bookshelf,

The one I bought with you in mind.

I didn't know it was for you at the time,

But one night made it obvious,

Before an instance took it.

Reality surpassed intention today.

Your worn favorites and mine pristine,

Should mingle and mix,

Genre forgotten.

Dog eared pages became so endearing.

But I'll never see them on my shelf,

Unless you come back and stay this time.

The format was different from what he usually wrote, but it was so obviously Sky Writing. So obviously Bob. So obviously about her. And he didn't sound angry. Could he possibly miss her after everything she did and said?

She jumped when her phone vibrated on her desk, and for a split second, she believed it could be Bob. Her heart beat faster with anticipation, but it was from somebody else.

Jessica Reed: If you don't come down to this weird tree right now, we're going to come up and get you.

Anna had lost track of time. It was after noon now. She knew that her friends were trying to make sure she was holding herself together after she refused to go to the Hard Deck over the weekend. How could she continue to go somewhere that Bob had the rights to first? It wasn't until she read his Sky Writing poem that she thought perhaps there was a chance he might not only be okay with her presence but perhaps even miss her like she missed him.

With her sad little lunch in hand, she dragged herself down to the quad, trying to decide when was the best time to call Kevin. She was tired of going through lawyers who couldn't seem to get him to budge, and each ninety day window just ate away at more of her soul. She should have been so much more careful with her writing when she had the opportunity, and now he'd completely locked her out of being able to access it. 

No, she was going to have to beg him, plead with him, anything it took to get what she wanted without giving away where she'd moved. Maybe if he agreed to let her have her manuscript, one of her friends would let her borrow money for a flight back to New Jersey to retrieve it. She was getting ahead of herself, but she couldn't help it. She needed to at least get this one thing.

"There she is!"

Anna looked up to see her friends directly in front of her on the bench by the tree, and the fact that they both looked happy to see her made her heart ache. "Hi," she said softly as she sat down between them when they both scooted over.

"Hummus?" her friend asked, passing along a container while she bit into her perfect looking chicken salad sandwich on artisan bread. Anna accepted a few bites of Bradley's gourmet snack, because she was absolutely starving today.

"Thanks," she murmured, and she let herself sink into the background a little bit as the two other women continued the conversation they'd been having. Now that she was down here with his friends, she couldn't stop thinking about Bob again. His soft hair and his kind eyes. The way he always paid attention to her when she was talking. How good he made her feel.

She listened to her friends argue about alumni weekend for a few minutes before she finally cut them off to ask, "Has Bob said anything about me?" Both of them looked at her, and she quickly added, "I can't stop thinking about him."

Jessica smiled softly and said, "Not a word, but I've never seen him look so sad. And I mean that in a good way, because although I know he's confused and hurt, I'm pretty sure he just misses you."

"But," the other woman quickly cut in, "the most important thing right now is making sure you take care of yourself. Even if you are in love with Bob."

"Oh!" Jessica exclaimed. "I have an idea! We could just kill Kevin!"

Anna snorted in spite of herself. "That would actually solve a lot of my problems. Maybe even all of them."

"Only one problem with that," Advanced Calculus said blandly. "You're not a killer, Jessica."

"I could kill someone," Jessica muttered under her breath, and truly Anna almost laughed, because Jessica Reed was one of the gentlest people she'd ever met. The most violent thing about her was her Dungeons & Dragons character. "I could at least probably slap him."

"He wouldn't know what hit him," Anna said, and all three women erupted into laughter. And it felt so strange to feel genuine happiness, even if it only lasted for a few seconds, that Anna almost started crying. As their amusement died down, she asked her friends, "Do you think.... Bob would respond if I texted him?"

Jessica squeaked, and then both women said, "Yes."

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

Bob was back to square one. Back at the bookstore. He was fifteen minutes early. He was already looking through the Classics. He was about to meet up with Anna. He was nervous.

Nat scoffed when he told her where he was going, and he truly did appreciate that his friend wanted him to proceed with caution, but she just didn't understand how Anna made him feel. Being friends with her after sleeping together a total of one time might kill him, but he knew that was probably all he could have now.

It was almost like he could sense that she was there. He looked up from the Shakespeare volume in his hand, and he saw her walk in the door. As he got closer to the loft railing, he saw her glance up and meet his eyes like it was some depraved version of Romeo and Juliet. She mouthed the word Hi before she headed for the stairs, and in less than a minute, she was standing right in front of him. 

Anna looked nervous, but everything else was just the same. Those perfect freckles decorated her face. Her brown eyes were bright. Her pretty hair was in a messy braid. He saw her burgundy nail polish as she fidgeted with her denim jacket. He wanted to know if she still thought he was the kind of person she could love. He wanted to ask her if her husband was any closer to signing papers. Instead he said, "I was surprised when you texted me."

Her eyes went wide, and he wished he could shove his foot in his mouth as she started looking around anywhere but at his face. "I need some books for my feminist literature course, and I just thought maybe you'd like more books for your bookshelf."

Had she read his newest poem? It was a sloppy one that he wrote late on Friday night and posted on a whim. She could have deleted her account by now or vowed never to read anything else by Sky Writing. But that didn't stop the poem from being about her.

"I do need some more books for my shelves," he replied, and her eyes finally settled on his again. "And you don't have to be nervous around me. I know you're dealing with a lot, and I promise I won't touch you or anything."

Now she just looked sad and distraught, but she nodded and turned down the very aisle where they first met. Bob had to fight to keep a few feet of space between them as she said, "I'm looking for Mary Wollstonecraft, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton."

They worked their way slowly up and back down each aisle, falling into a natural conversation in spite of the awkwardness between them. In spite of the way Bob couldn't keep himself from looking at her as she ran her fingers along the spines. When she wanted something that was on a top shelf, he reached it down for her. When her hands got full, he offered his up for her use. And to his delight and also sadness, she kept recommending books for him along the way. That's how he ended up with Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day as well as The Importance of Being Earnest in his hand when she led the way downstairs to pay.

Bob cleared his throat as Anna reached into her pocket for some cash. "I can get them."

Her brown eyes snapped up to meet his, and her cheeks turned pink. He already knew what Kevin did, and while he didn't think there was any harm in saying it, he could tell that she at least had her pride intact. "The college is going to reimburse me," she said firmly before handing forty dollars across the counter.

"Right," Bob said before paying for his own books. When they walked out into the fading sunlight, he looked down into her pretty face. "Will you let me drive you home? Not because I think I need to, but because I want to?"

She seemed at war with herself as she looked across the street and pressed her lips together. But her eyes fluttered closed and she said, "I would really appreciate that."

The interior of his truck was quiet the whole way as their books sat on the seat between them. Only the soft hum of the radio helped Bob hold his thoughts at bay. The ride wasn't too long, and when they were most of the way there, Anna finally spoke. 

"I'm going to deal with my shit. I promise."

Unsure exactly how he should respond, Bob simply said, "Okay."

When he pulled up in front of her building, he turned toward her, intending to ask if she wanted him to walk her up, but she was gathering her books together as she said, "I don't know how you feel about me now. I don't know if you could want me again. But I am going to deal with Kevin. I am going to fix my life. Because I want to move on. I need to." When he was so flustered that he didn't immediately respond, Anna said, "You know where to find me. Thanks for the ride."

He watched her run up the sidewalk before struggling to open the door with her arms full, and then she ducked inside when he finally figured out what he wanted to say. "I'll find you."

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

If Anna even had a hope or a prayer at a chance with Bob ever again, she needed to work up the nerve. A real chance with him now that he knew all about her disastrous marriage was what she wanted, but she needed to sort Kevin out first. 

As far as she could tell, everything came down to two options: keep her freedom by giving Kevin ownership of her manuscript, or keep her self worth by fighting until she didn't have anything left to give up. And both of them sounded terrifying. The whole weekend passed where she tried so many times to call him. She took her phone out again and again, let her thumb hover over her husband's phone number, and then chickened out. His voice was like a distant memory, and she didn't want to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. He hadn't reached out one time since she up and left without telling him where she was going, and she was afraid to let him know where she was now.

The worst part was, he would know immediately why she was calling. He knew that he had the one thing she wanted. He cut off her access to the cloud files where she should have been able to piece her writing back together. It would have been time consuming, but she would have been all too happy to do it. She should have known better than to let him have so much of her life and so many of her resources in only his name, but there was a time when she trusted him. That was the part that made her so sick. She had trusted her husband, and now look where it got her.

A shiver went through her body as she woke up for work too early on Monday morning. She wanted Kevin's computer where everything was saved. She wanted access to the cloud. She didn't want a damn penny from him otherwise. She was aggressively brushing her teeth, wishing she had more to eat than a granola bar when she spit out her toothpaste and rinsed her mouth.

She hated him. She hated him so much, she was going to call him right now. Without a backward glance, she marched over to where her phone was charging and pulled the cable out. Before she could even think about exactly what she was going to say, she tapped on his stupid name.

Anna was breathing fast and deep, her heart pounding in her ears when she heard his voice for the first time in so many months.

"Anna?" he asked, her whole body cringing after just one word. His voice was scratchy as if she had woken him up, but it was 9:16 in New Jersey. He should be on his way to work if not there already.

"Kevin," she snapped, gripping her phone tighter. She was getting angrier by the second as she listened to him yawn while she looked around her tiny apartment.

His tone was condescending as he said, "Of course you'd call me at six in the fucking morning after I haven't hear a word from you except through a lawyer since July. What the hell do you want?"

She couldn't do this. She couldn't talk to him. While she felt strong a few minutes ago, her resolve was already crumbling. She wanted to tell him that he knew damn well what she wanted, but then she zeroed in on what he said. "What do you mean it's six in the morning? It's after nine."

His voice was suddenly loud and harsh. "I meant exactly what I said. I'm in California for a medical convention. Now get to the point of your call."

Her mouth felt like sandpaper as she carefully put her phone on speaker. She started searching for Neurological conventions in California while she told him, "I just want my manuscript. Please, Kevin. That's all I want, and then you can be rid of me."

The bite was gone from his voice, replaced by a lazy tone, and he spoke to her as if she were a very simple child. "It's not going to happen, Anna. I didn't cut off access to it for no reason. It's worth money. You can pay me for it, or you can kiss it goodbye. I might even publish it myself."

She was gasping for air as she scrolled through her search results, coming up with a conference in Carlsbad that was starting today. As the page loaded, she swallowed and told him, "I'll sue you if you do." But even she knew she was full of shit.

"What what money, Anna? I'm surprised you can still afford your lawyers. I don't even want to know what you're doing to make ends meet right now."

Then she saw it. She saw his name. He was a keynote speaker at the National Neurological Physicians Association conference. He was less than an hour away. She sank down to her knees in surprise and fear. Her mind was swirling with information and ideas, and she couldn't even comprehend what Kevin was saying now.

"What?" she gasped.

"I said come up with some money for me, or I'm not signing shit." Then he ended the call as her hands started shaking. She dropped her phone onto her bed. He was in Carlsbad. Maybe she could surprise him. Maybe she could talk him into it easier in person.

Anna had to run to the bathroom to be sick, but her mind was made up. Once she cleaned herself up again, she tearfully made the decision to cancel her morning classes via email, and then she started grabbing her purse and her essentials. She folded up the newest copy of the divorce paperwork her lawyer had emailed to her and tucked it away. Then she ran for the bus stop, nearly tripping several times as she read through the schedule of speakers who were at the conference this week on her phone. If she caught a bus within the next fifteen minutes, she might make it in time to see Kevin right before he gave his welcome speech.

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

We will meet Kevin in the next chapter. Now is an acceptable time to start sharpening your knives. Bob, please don't give up on Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

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[heartfullofleeches]

[Request] Reader caring for a sick Remmy [Dollmaker Yan Oc]

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.1k

-

“Remmy isn't home right now…. Please come back later.”

Could this day get any worse?... Weeks, months even, building up the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It wasn't like he asked you out on a date or anything, not yet anyway. He still needed to test the water a little longer, make sure the signals he had picked up from you weren't figments of his imagination. All that time, all those embarrassing hours spent in front of the mirror practicing what to say given any outcome - flushed down the drain in one night. 

Remmy could hardly open his eyes the morning you were intended to meet. You didn't even recognize him over the phone at first. In his heightened state of delirium from the fever racking his weary mind, he hoped the same would happen as you continuously rang his doorbell - demanding in the softest voice you could manage for him to open up.

As if he could be that lucky….

“And where, pray tell, would someone hacking up a lung over the phonean hour ago be right besides the hospital? It's not that far away. I can head over right now and check.” 

….

“Open this door right now, Remiel. You're not going to flake on me twice today.”

Did you have to phrase it like that? Kicking a sick person while he could barely stand was cruel - even if you did come to check up on him. 

“O…okay…. Remmy is- I'm going to unlock the door, just…give me a minute to clean up my room. I have some stuff out I really don't want anyone to see…”

The muffled shuffling of plastic splices between the click of the lock as Remmy unlocks the front door. 

“60.”

“Crap.” 

Hobbling away from the front door, Remmy clings to the hallway walls as he makes a break for his bedroom. The straight path twists and bends as his stress levels skyrocket from the very real fear of you finding out what he had stored. There wasn't enough time for him to hide everything. His top priority were the worst offenders - items he couldn't excuse as being a result of his relatively harmless hobby. Doll clothing fashioned after clothes you'd yet to wear for the public eye. Others you never owned and probably would never wear, unless they were for a partner or to make yourself feel good. Pictures of you hung up on his walls. So much to bury in such little time. 

“They can't see that…That one either. God, they'd kill me if they saw-”

“Saw what?” 

A hoarse yelp claws its way out of Remmy's aching throat. Standing in his doorway, you balance two separate bags in your arms - awaiting his response. Remmy hurriedly pulls the corners of his blankets over the space beneath his bed. 

“I…threw up a bit ago. Guess I'm feeling worse than I thought when we spoke over the phone.” 

In the blink of an eye you're by his side. Remmy flinches as you press the back of your palm against his forehead.

“Oh, Rem….” Concern oozes from your words as you set your bags down, taking hold of his arm. You're burning up. Come on. Let's get you back in bed.”

“You don't have to go through all this for me, Y/n. Really, I'm-” His sentence falls short as you scoop him off the floor, sitting him up on his bed. Were you always this strong - or had he always been this easy to carry? In that moment, Remmy felt just like one of his dolls. His head spins at the very thought. You take the opportunity to gently ease him down against the mattress, rolling the discarded sheets up to his waist. You pick up the plastic bags, setting them on the small table in the center of his room as you rummage through them.

“Got some chicken soup from this dinner down the street. If you can't keep anything down, maybe the broth will be a good place to state. Oh!- picked up some ginger ale too. That might help with your stomach too. Cough drops, cough medicine…. Do you prefer liquid or pills?” 

Remmy turns his head away from you as he coughs into his fist. “...whichever…whichever you brought is fine.”

“Well,I actually bought both, but I can just return the other on my way home later. I'll go grab you a cup real quick.”

Heading for the door, Remmy’s meek voice calls out to you - barely about a whisper. “Y/n?”

Hand on the doorframe, you gaze over your shoulder at him. “What's up? Need something else while I'm in the kitchen?”

“No…” Remmy shakes his head, the pressure of a headache hammering at his skull. “Agh… Remmy… I just wanted to thank you…for this. You really didn't have to come over…” 

A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. “Don't think I did this for nothing. Gotta make sure you're well enough for our date next weekend. The park is nice and all, but that's where we always go. I expect to be taken somewhere else for our first date.”

“Date?” He couldn't have heard you right. But, you said it - twice. You disappear down the hall before he can properly question you. Was this all a dream? The conjurings of his ill mind as the sickness took hold? This felt better than anything he could imagine- Your hushed voice as you reenter the room confirms it. You wiggle your arm behind his head, helping him sit back up just enough to place the cup to his lips without him choking while swallowing. A part of him wished this was a dream. One that he'd never wake up from if he had the choice. Another dream come true was waiting for him once he got better.

“Remmy?...Rem?”

Soda spills onto your hand as the weight of his head crashes upon your shoulder. Did he…. fall asleep? Just like that? You hadn't even given him his medicine yet. At least the sleep will be good for him. You should probably go put everything else you brought up to pass the time until he wakes up. 

“Mmm…”

Remmy’s face scrunches in discomfort as you part from his side, lowering his head onto the pillows as you stand. Your foot touches something soft beneath his bed. You reach a hand underneath - completely forgetting about his earlier warnings as your fingers wrap around the squishy item. A doll with instantly identifying features stares back up at you as you drag it from its prison. Funny - you don't remember wearing this shirt around Remmy. You only bought it a few days ago. You planned to wear it today before he told you the bad news.

Shrugging, you raise Remmy's arm - tucking the doll against his chest. His face melts into that of peaceful bliss, body curling around the doll as his other hand strokes its face as if on auto-pilot. You press a kiss to his forehead - shutting off the lights in his room as you depart for a second time.

[angelitaby]

my random donatello headcanons. . !

── he's awkward in nature, but that doesn't stop donatello from calling you fascinating. the touch of your fingertips tracing the creases of his hands as he rambles on about your differences and familiarities. embarrassed, donatello stops his mumblings if he realizes what he's saying

── when donatello has feelings for someone, he might just be...softer, partially because he's confused about what he's feeling. he doesn't really want to feel it either. he might isolate himself more so it goes away. it however, doesn't.

── two words. parallel play. sitting together in the same room doing your own tasks. donatello at his desk as you do your own enjoyments beside him. some days it's a comfortable silence, other times you'll ramble, he likes to hear idle chatter. he might not know what you're talking about, but he loves the noise.

── donatello likes the way your heart beats against your chest. it’s never the same every time he lays his head on your chest, but there’s the same sense of relief he gets from it.

── donatello gets easily irritated/overstimulated by strong, bad smells. even with the ones he doesn’t actively dislike, he’s very picky with the scents he does like. however, one particular night while you were looking over his shoulder, he caught a grasp of your scent. whether you prefer the flowery kisses of roses and fresh cut daisies, or the earthy tone of left over raindrops on blades of grass. he found that it was a... pleasant surprise.

── future!donatello smells like cigarettes and metal rust—but in the smoke and sterile way. he'd try to cover it with eucalyptus. when he stresses out, he turns to cigarettes. he tends to wallow in his own sleepless pity.

── yandere!donatello who's mind had gone blank. his heart pounding within the bony confines of his chest, unable to move as your laugh replayed in his head multiple times. and what a scary feeling, terrifying to experience something so.. conflicting. his heart aches, but it feels good. he wants—no needs to know why?

── yandere!donatello likes to experiment on you. mentally, physically. you're so fascinating. your biology is different. desires are different. needs are different. there are many ways to make someone delirious, and he intends to explore each and every one.

── donatello listens to weird al yankovic because i said so.

── donatello likes someone who will understand his boundaries. he likes someone who listens. he likes it when someone seems interested in him or what he's talking about. donatello likes someone who will be quiet with him.

── i can definitely see donatello as a gray ace. (i mean he's purple he's literally asexual core/hj) i do project a bit of myself onto him in having anxieties about other people and myself that's stopping me from getting in relationships. "i'm busy. i have other things to do. i don't need to worry about it." and while true, that doesn't mean it's not nice. it's him using his hobbies and work as an excuse to not be with people even though, deep down, i think he wants it.

── donatello says he prefers his coffee black, but he enjoys it with creamer. french vanilla baby! something to keep in mind for the early mornings, the quiet yet comfortable silence of the fresh day as you press the palm of your hand on his shoulder or between his shoulder blades for a second as you set down a coffee you made for him. it's a small gesture, but it's domestic. it's sweet, he appreciates it.

── donatello really loves the little things because it feels mundane and human to him.

── donatello prefers black teas. april introduced him to a strong one with cane sugar and mint once. but he also likes pure green tea, lemon with ginger, and a special rose-strawberry tea on the occasion. but it has to be a subtle taste, not to sweet, spicy or heavy.

── donatello likes all sorts of dumplings and is not a fan of overly sweet food + most desserts.

── donatello would be willing to watch greys anatomy with you because he's a bitch and likes to point out inaccuracies which is hilarious coming from some bitch who doesn't have a medical license. however he does have respects for dr. gregory house, so he's decent enough when watching house.

── donatello's favorite body part of yours? "whichever parts are the farthest away from me, thank you." your hands. your palms which press against his plastron, your fingertips that send shudders down his spine when you trace over his shell. every crevice, every knuckle, every detail. need i say more?

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Let Me Take Care Of You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~300

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Spencer is sick with the flu, so you help take care of him.

Square Filled: character is color blind for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Spencer is one of those boyfriends that is on top of everything. He remembers every important thing you two got going on, he always remembers to get you flowers every week even if the old ones aren’t dead yet, and he is very loving.

That all goes out the window when he gets sick.

Spencer caught the flu when he went on a case with the team and they had to visit a school filled with children. When Spencer even gets the cold, he becomes like a child in the sense that he is needy and always wants your attention on him. He doesn’t listen to anything you say either, even if it’s what’s best for him.

“Go back to bed, Spencer. I’ll be right there.” You stir the pot of chicken noodle soup, one of Spencer’s favorites, and take a peek at him. He’s sitting at the kitchen island with a blanket wrapped around him. He looks miserable. “I’ll bring the food when it’s ready.”

He shakes his head and coughs violently into his elbow.

“No, what if you burn yourself again?”

“Baby, I’m color blind, not blind. I can see where the pot is.” You pause. “And that was one time.”

“One time too many.”

You turn and put your hands on your hips. “Go to bed now before I call Derek.”

Spencer pouts but does what he’s told. He shuffles to the bedroom, and you turn back to the pot of soup. When it’s ready, you bring the soup and some Ginger Ale on a tray to Spencer. He is sitting on the edge of the bed with the same pout on his face. He sees you and his eyes immediately light up.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I didn’t. Either eat or get some sleep.”

“Will you read to me as I eat?”

You smile. “What book?”

“You choose.”

You walk over to the small library in the corner of the room and pull one of Spencer’s favorite books from the shelves. Knowing you’re going to get sick next, you don’t shy away from him. You sit next to him on the bed and start the book from chapter one. Spencer barely touches his soup because he’s so focused on the sound of your voice. He lays his head on your shoulder and closes his eyes, completely and utterly safe with you.

x

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