#ok I'll stand here and help

[happy-mokka]

Middle-aged man here. Can confirm.

I love it when dogs try to help but the task at hand requires zero dogs so they just kinda stand in front of you and look serious.

[briwhosaysni]

In elementary school, did y'all have the kids who were really good at double dutch? And at recess they'd be playing and you were like "that looks fun!" So you go over and ask for a turn, but then you're standing in front of these two twirling jumpropes, looking for an opening to jump in, but you become certain that the moment you try to jump in you'll totally bungle it and fall on your face, so eventually you just say nevermind and leave?

That's what trying to join a conversation in a new discord server feels like

[enbyfication]

phew ok finally done with asks. wow i haven't done an ask clearout in ages i missed it. very theraputic to me. i love talking to all the little people in my computer:) i missed you all.

[blu-s0da]

Can't leave the house without my gender-affirming hat

[saltpepdoomedtoxicyuri]

One rrblog on this post and I'll post my candle x pepper story so far on here

[skrunksthatwunk]

"i'm not disabled" followed immediately by "i've got bad knees and a bad back" is certainly something to read 🤨 you know it doesn't have to be cripling for it to count, right...? it's not normal to be in pain after 15 minutes of standing. ableds can stand for, like, an hour at a time before they need to sit.

i know! i appreciate the concern, but i uh. dunno lol. genuinely i don't know. but i included the afaik ("i'm not disabled afaik" was the original phrase, though i'm not like mad at you for excluding it or anything) because i'm well aware that it's a possibility. it's hard to explain but there's a lot of little things that don't add up to much but are like. noticeable. like i would prefer to do most things sitting, if i could, as a matter of comfort. it would be easier for me. and walking isn't as bad as just standing. i've never been great at taking care of my body, and this has only gotten worse with time. it's hard for me to know what i should read as necessity and what i should read as preference, and how much weight to put on said preferences. like you said, i know it doesn't need to be "if i don't sit down i'm going to collapse" or anything, but where to draw that line between Definitely A Medical Thing That Affects Me More Than Other People and.. not that, i'm not sure. i kinda just thought i was a persistently slightly tired and low energy person, but it doesn't seem bad enough to be chronic fatigue, so...? is it related to the half-diagnosed. idk it's complicated depression (and yes in hindsight i probably should've counted that as disabling but whatever)? idk it's not a rabbit hole i've explored much at all is my point. but i know it's there and uh i guess this was sort of validating in a way anon so.. yeah? yeah👍

[mathmusicreading]

Blog(ger) Shift

I am, so weird and bad about original posting and about reblogging and about saving things on Tumblr and that's why my blog has been mostly inactive or the lurking consumer type. But I don't want my fears about putting myself out there, being seen and known, articulating myself well vs. having been told my whole life I'm too wordy and opinionated vs. not managing to articulate myself well enough to justify being verbose and passionate, etc. to continue to control me so much.

So for my new specific-interest sideblog that I'm not locking, I hope it being themed will help me with making more original posts and reblogging, and I'm publicizing that here to push myself and also welcome interaction.

RIP to my other public specific-interest sideblog and the fandom sideblog I took over for someone that I didn't take further and to my private sideblogs that were meant to make me reblog and save and say stuff because they would be personal and just for me. I still would like to make those happen and reblogging and posting things that matter to me here, and oh my heart for the content ideas I haven't been working on, but they're pipedreams with how I'm (not) managing my life and I keep kicking those cans down the road.

To the person who I developed a real relationship with as a beta but who by now I probably count as having disappeared on with how long it's been and my not coming back to explicitly say I still can't help and don't know when I can, I am so sorry. I'm being a coward languishing in hoping I can tell you soon that I can get back into beta-ing for you and talking, but that's turned into me not talking to you because I'm waiting to be able to say something positive. Hopefully my vaguing here can help push me into talking to you, or at least this is here for you to read if you happen to see it; and I want you to know you absolutely can talk to me, can call me out, and if you're so gracious as to still want to be friends with me and just chat despite my dropping being your beta, I'm here for you and still want to be your friend even if I don't know if I'll have the spoons to be a good one and I know my saying that preemptively isn't apology or justification enough.

Honest assessment, I'm going to curse and say my living situation and work have both become even more of a shitshow, and with those things in mind I can't begin to imagine handling a real project until basically literally a year from now.

Which segues back into the main topic of this post. My goal isn't to have my new sideblog be like an active mainblog nor to abandon this blog—people interested in that blog can and should still interact with me here given how primary vs. secondary blogs on Tumblr work, and in terms of using that blog to help make me be a better Tumblr user, I think I should make certain original posts here and reblog them there as opposed to them being original there. With my mental-emotional and time resources, I want that blog to be "active" for a given definition of active, but really I think I should see my objective as "clear out tabs and likes and photos and lists and notes and drafts, etc. from the last four months" by saving stuff there, as opposed to my goal being the original posts I want to make there, and actually my long-term goal should be to use that momentum to do the same for older digital and physical storage that hasn't been lost or stolen. In my failure to be an interesting person, do I at least manage to be fascinating as a basket-case? Ha. But, also, as expressed above the Read More, the exercise of my danmei/Chinese sideblog is supposed to be a foray into me allowing myself to be an interesting person.

[finallychaoticeffigy]

Yandere murderer x reader

Liking the idea of a 6'6 man holding an axe who is obsessed with you chasing you down the forest

You barely have no memory of meeting him. You just remembered him dropping something and being the nice person you are, you helped him. You could make out the image of the huge man blushing like a tomato as he stuttered the word 'thank you'. You smiled and continued on walking.

Then it all began, the killings. Strange things start happening around you. You lived a pretty normal life in your 19 years of living. So the sequence of events clearly startled you. Your college classmate who insulted you, died. Your aunt who said mean things about you, dead, and many many more people who did you dirty was strangely murdered in some gruesome ways. The police who investigated things told everyone that it was done by the same person.

The rumor about the murders quickly spread like wildfire. Everyone was afraid. Some people don't even want to go out anymore. Everyone...except your friends who probably have nine lives suggested that you all camp in the middle of nowhere.

"What ! Are you crazy!! Boy didn't you all hear about the murders going around?" your friend Sam pointed out

"Pfff... Come on , we're gonna be fine.... It will be a fun experience i promise " Fin said as he dropped an arm around her shoulder as she blushed, clearly flustered

"yeah I'll come too" Alex said nonchalantly clearly unbotherd as he played with his phone

"O-ok fine... Only if Y/n will come" she said and removed Fin's arm around her. Those two clearly liked each other,,, everyone can see with their eyes closed except themselves.

I mentally slapped myself. "Fine" i sigh "But if we felt like something was wrong we'll immediately get the hell out "

"Good... It's settled " Fin again declared as he clapped.

+++++++++-----------+++++++++++-+

It's now evening... You all gathered around the fireplace as you talked about random stuff. It's pretty fun, you admitted.

" Having a great time?" Alex asked as he sat besides you

You nodded and gave him a small smile

"There's only two tents... Two people will obviously have to share " he explained

"It's getting late... Maybe we should all call it a night?" You stood up

"Sam let's share the ten-"

You cut Fin off "Hey... Sam will share it with me, were both girls "

She glared at you "I'll share a tent with Fin , Y/n go share yours with alex ... It's not like it's anything new"

"What does that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on you're a slut...... It's not like it's a secret" she casually said and took Fin's hand.

You gasped at her words... How dare she? You're a freaking virgin for gods sake. You never even held a guys hand romantically before.

You were about to throw those words out when a man appeared behind them. A very tall man standing about 6'6 raised an axe hitting her neck.

You all froze as her head rolled to the ground. Blood spurted out spraying Fin. Her headless body dropped. He didn't stop. He began to hit her body multiple times .

"HOW .....hit .....DARE... hit ....YOU! " He shouted angrily.

Fin suddenly lunged at him with a metal chair. "YOU ASSHOLE" he hit him but he didn't even budge.

His attention turned to him. He raised the bloody axe he was holding and hit him.

You finally let out a scream . You felt Alex's hands pulling you away as you both ran for your lives.

"W-what was that" you shakingly mumbled, branches hitting you as you ran fast.

"Y/n it is exactly what we saw. Now we need to go to the place where we parked the car and get the hell out of here. "

"Y/n ! Baby come here ! Come back !" You felt shivers as you both turned around and saw him chasing you both.

"Run fast !" Alex said panicking

"No ! Don't touch the hands of my Y/n ! She's mine ! " he growled and you screamed .

"I'll kill you! You bastard! I'll fucking murder you just like your useless friends! "

He suddenly disappeared and you sigh in relief thinking you had lost him.

You both hid under a large tree catching your breath. "Fuck" Alex cursed, you looked at his hands still holding yours, shaking.

"Is it still far? The car? "

"Unfortunately Y/n I don't know anymore... It's too dark . I think we're lost" he said as he pants

You suddenly shrieked as the same axe that had killed your friends flew at Alex hitting him at his chest.

You got up and began running again crying. You're feeling very scared, tired and out of breath. But you don't stop , if you did he'll catch you.

It's too dark and quiet. You suddenly bumped into something. Please let it be a tree. Please. You prayed quietly. Don't let it be him please.

His arms wrapped tightly around you like a snake. You felt him sniff your neck and proceeded to lick you. You can't see his face but you can feel him smiling.

"My Darling Y/n. You're finally mine, Let's live together and forever now....Hmm?" He cooed and licked your face.

He picks you up and begins telling you how much he loves you and adores every little thing about you.

You're tired and you're feeling dizzy. You felt yourself slowly passing out because of exhaustion and at the touch of this monster holding you.

"I love you so much Y/n . You're only mine"

[divadepreshawn]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader

Summary: You spent a large part of your life taking care of people. Between a test to grade, a phone call to calm Spencer down, and the problems of everyday life, there was never any time left. And honestly? You never cared about investing in your own love life. Love (in the intimate sense, between two people) was something for other people. But it seems that destiny had other plans. Warnings: I don't think I have any important notice, just sweet. This is part two, you can check out part one here. Ok if you guys could take a look at this post and tell me what you prefer it would be a great help, WC: 2 900 I usually use specific playlists for writing (more focused on the feeling than the reader itself) but I created a specific one for this one. For those who may be interested, you can find it here.

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You had just arrived home – and you were exhausted. People often think that dealing with children is difficult. Nonsense. The hard part is dealing with adults. They complain, interrupt the class all the time to make impertinent comments and still think they have the right to question your knowledge. You were taking off your coat when the doorbell rang.

“Who could it be at this hour?” You mumbled, leaving your bag on the table before heading to the door.

“Oh… Hello,” you greeted with a frown, alternating your gaze between Jack, Aaron and the bouquet.

You glanced at Jack, who was holding a delicate bouquet of red and white roses in both hands, the simple bow around the stem slightly crooked. Then you slowly looked up at Aaron, his expression as discreet as you remembered, despite the softer look in his eyes.

“Hi,” Jack said with a shy smile as he held the bouquet out to you. “I wanted to give you a yellow flower, but Dad said roses were better because they’re a lot of people’s favorites. And they also have less pollen… whatever that means. Do you like roses?”

Your heart sank at the gesture—the smile so wide it could split your lips spread before you could stop it—as you bent down to Jack’s level. You picked up the bouquet with care, as if it were made of crystal.

“Roses are my favorite,” you assured him, bringing the flowers to your nose, squeezing them lightly so he knew you meant it. “And these are, without a doubt, the most beautiful ones I’ve ever gotten.” Jack smiled, looking down at the flowers again.

“It was his idea,” Aaron explained, glancing at his son before looking back at you. “He insisted we bring you flowers to thank you for the cookies. They were really good. But I didn’t know if you had any allergies and, well… we didn’t want to kill you with a gift.”

"It's okay. I loved it, thank you," you smiled, opening the door a little wider so they could see the room. "And as you can see, I'm immune."

Aaron and Jack tilted their heads slightly to the side, from where they were standing they had a view of a small corner of the room: potted plants scattered on the floor, on the bookshelf, on the coffee table and hanging near the windows – mostly large and small green leaves and just a few small colorful flowers.

Aaron nodded slowly, looking relieved that he hadn't triggered an allergic reaction. "Well… we'll be right there. Welcome to the building."

"Thanks again. You were very kind."

"It was nothing," he replied, placing his hand on Jack's back to guide him down the hallway. "If you need anything… we're right there."

Jack nodded quickly. "My dad can fix anything."

You laughed at his enthusiasm, nodding in affirmation. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

–

Aaron sighed, putting the last folder inside his leather bag. “Thank you for coming so early. This meeting wasn’t scheduled, I still don’t know why it’s so urgent.”

Jessica shook her head, waving her hand away as she sat down on the kitchen chair. “It’s okay, I was already awake anyway.”

Her eyes wandered over the kitchen counter until they landed on the new glass jar on the counter — still holding some of the cookies you’d left out days ago. A smile slowly crept up as an idea formed.

“Did you see someone moved into the apartment across the way?”

Aaron paused for a second, frowning slightly as he checked his watch. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I heard.”

“She’s a woman. Very polite, seemed nice…” Jessica commented casually, watching, waiting for a reaction. A barely audible grunt was all she got. “And very pretty too,” she added with a smile.

Aaron looked up from his bag, staring at the bookshelf. His expression was as impassive as ever — though the slight blush that rose to his ears betrayed him. “Really? I didn’t notice.”

Aaron was lying, of course. He had noticed, too much for his own well-being. The image of you — eyes slightly wide, breathing heavily, and the embarrassed expression when you realized you were rambling — was still clear in his mind.

Jessica arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms slowly.

“You didn’t notice?” she repeated, her tone skeptical—just because he remained expressionless and the lie slid like butter didn’t mean it sounded convincing. “Aaron, you would notice if someone had replaced the entrance rug with one two shades darker.”

“I’m observant, yes, it’s part of the job,” he said, defending himself. “But I’m not constantly analyzing everyone’s behavior.”

Jessica leaned over the table, her eyes shining with amusement. “Okay, but there’s no way I couldn’t have noticed the perfume.”

He hesitated for a second—longer than he would have liked. “Yes.”

“I knew it.”

Aaron took a deep breath, closing the bag with a soft snap. “There’s nothing in there.”

“Not yet.” She shrugged, standing up. “But look… it’s been three years, there’s nothing wrong. You’re a widower, not a monk.”

Aaron stared at the floor for a moment, before glancing briefly at the glass jar of cookies on the counter.

“Okay…” Jessica didn’t insist. “Come on, honey.” Jack was already at your side, rubbing his eyes.

“Wait, I’ll walk you guys.”

–

You had arranged with Spencer that you would accompany him for breakfast at a coffee shop-bookstore he had discovered, not far from where he lived. It was a good idea, to spend some quality time with Spencer – who you hadn’t seen in a week – before work, with a great excuse to binge on caffeine and chocolate before nine in the morning. It turned out that you were five minutes late – and you hate being late.

The apartment that was so tidy it could have welcomed Vogue for a tour now looked like a war zone. You got ready in record time. Despite tripping over the hem of your pants when you were running down the hall after your missing shoe. Refusing to sit down to put on your boots, which resulted in a romantic encounter between your hip and the corner of the table – that would turn into a bruise later for sure. Let’s not forget that you almost sprayed perfume on your mouth while trying to read the message on your phone.

A great way to start the day.

As soon as you opened the door, you heard the doorknob turn from the other side of the hall. Jack came out first, shuffling his feet across the floor, rubbing his eyes. Oh, kids are adorable.

“Good morning,” he murmured, smiling as soon as he saw you, his voice a little hoarse from sleep.

You smiled back, adjusting your bag. “Good morning, darling. How are you?” You turned to lock the door, giving Jessica and Aaron a small smile, a silent greeting.

“I’m fine. Are you leaving early today?” Jack asked, looking at you curiously.

“Jack,” Aaron warned, giving you an apologetic look.

“It’s okay,” you said, waving your hand away. “Yeah, I’m leaving early because I have to see my brother before work.”

Jack tilted his head thoughtfully. “Is your brother small? Can I play with him?”

You laughed, balancing your bag and backpack on the same shoulder. “No, honey… he’s already grown up. But I’m sure he’d love to play with you.”

Jack looked thoughtful at your explanation. “So he’s old?”

“Jack…” Aaron caught your attention again.

You laughed at his conclusion. “He’s old, yes. A little taller than me,” you explained, grimacing in disapproval. “And I don’t like that at all.”

Jack laughed. “So he plays basketball? Dad said only tall people can play.”

“Oh no, he has two left feet,” you pressed the button, turning to Jack as you waited for the elevator to reach your floor. “But he has a really cool job… And it’s secret,” you whispered the last part.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jessica said, moving closer to you and inhaling slowly, “but you need to tell me your secret. You smell like… heaven.”

You laughed, a little surprised by the compliment. “Well, thanks… I think that’s where I spray the perfume, you know? I also like to mix it with a little body lotion. It stays on better that way.”

Before she could respond, the elevator doors opened with a soft hiss. Aaron, who had been quiet until then, slowly approached, holding the door for you. He tried to convince himself that it was a polite gesture – politeness, chivalry. But deep down he knew. You knew it was a terrible excuse to smell your perfume.

And God, yes. You smelled like heaven.

“Mix it with moisturizer…” she repeated, as if mentally reinforcing the tip. “I never thought of putting it on like that, but I’ll definitely try it tomorrow. Because honestly, the way you smell today… it’s almost criminal.”

You just smiled at her in a friendly way, not sure how to respond to the compliment. Jack turned to you, his eyes shining with curiosity.

“My dad’s job is secret too,” he said, puffing out his chest slightly—speaking of his father with pride. Oh, totally adorable. “You have a secret job too?”

“Oh no, my job is completely public, I’m a teacher.”

Jack’s eyes widened, placing his hand on his chest. “Can you teach me?”

“I’m sorry, dear, I only teach grown-ups.”

Aaron turned, watching you curiously. “College professor?”

“Exactly,” you confirmed with a small smile before sighing dramatically. “As hard as a secret job, I’d say.”

“What do you teach?” Jessica asked, genuinely curious.

“Psychology, more specifically anatomical organization, nervous system functioning, basic psychological processes. Things like that.”

“Interesting,” she muttered, casting a quick, amused glance toward the man standing near the door, before sliding her eyes to your left hand. “Very interesting.”

“Can I ask you something more personal?”

“Sure.”

“Are you married?”

Aaron had a complicated relationship with religion, a problem that had been going on for years that Jessica had solved in a second. Because at that moment he was silently praying to any higher power that could hear him. Praying that the ground would open up and swallow him whole, sparing him the embarrassment.

You blinked in surprise – more shocked by the question than offended. You glanced briefly at your hand – full of delicate rings of different sizes – before turning your gaze back to her.

“Oh… No. I just like rings and I’m a bit of an exaggerator.”

Jessica smiled so brightly that for a second you were sure she would start jumping for joy right there. “Me too, but I can’t wear more than two without remembering my punk phase as a teenager.”

You laughed. “I went through that phase too, I used to buy mine at the newsstand. Now at least I can buy one that doesn’t stain my finger green.”

The elevator stopped on the ground floor, the small noise it made as it opened the doors reminded you that you were late.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, the smile still on your lips, giving them one last goodbye look.

“I’m late… see you later.”

-

You entered, the soft sound of a bell announcing your entrance. The atmosphere was exactly the kind of place you imagined Spencer would love: walls lined with books to the ceiling, rustic wooden tables, cozy yellow light.

Spencer was sitting at one of the corner tables, leafing through a book that was too thick – it would take him about twenty minutes to finish reading at most. He was so focused that he didn’t even notice you approaching.

“If it was a snake, you’d be dead.”

“There are around 140 species of snakes registered in the US. Among this group are the venomous and non-venomous ones. They are divided by leading biologists into two main families: Elapidae and Viperidae,” he continued reading the book while you sat down. “And despite the variety in their natural habitat, considering that we’re in the middle of the city, the probability of having a snake in here is zero.”

“Thanks, genius boy,” you teased him, picking up the menu to choose a dish. “How was your week?”

Spencer closed the book, placing it next to you on the bench. “It was good, mom called me.”

You smiled, putting the menu down to pay attention to the conversation. “And how is she?”

“Fine. I mean, as good as possible. It was a quiet conversation this time. She talked about the new nurses, one in particular has an annoying laugh, but at least he knows how to make decent tea.”

You laughed softly. “That’s progress.”

“She scolded me,” he said, sounding genuinely offended. “She said I needed to get by now, because I’m an adult, and that I shouldn’t burden you. Oh, and she told you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, how lovely,” you murmured sarcastically, looking out the window.

“You know what she meant,” he gave a small smile, adding an amount of sugar that would give you type two diabetes to the coffee.

For a moment, silence fell. And then, almost without realizing it, a sad smile appeared on the corner of your lips. Because you knew. You knew exactly what she meant by that.

It was a request, disguised as a scolding. A reminder: focus on your life now.

“What about you? Have you done anything this week? You seem… different.”

“Different how?”

Spencer pressed his lips together in a straight line, tilting his head slightly. “You seem more relaxed. Less stressed than usual, especially on a Friday.” He raised his eyebrows. “Who did you kill?”

“I haven’t killed anyone… Yet.” You gave a short laugh, biting the inside of your cheek, considering whether you should tell him. “… I got flowers yesterday.”

Spencer blinked in surprise. “Really?”

You nodded, thanking her with a smile as the clerk placed your coffee cup on the table. “Jack gave it to me. A bouquet with some roses.”

“Jack?”

“He’s my neighbor’s son,” you explained.

“Jack… how old is he?”

“About five, maybe six. He’s cute. Very polite. He handed me the bouquet all embarrassed and asked me if I liked roses because, according to his father, they have less pollen and they didn’t want to kill me.”

Spencer smiled at the image. “Less pollen. Smart. Considering the rate of seasonal allergies has been rising in recent years, that makes sense,” he said, before frowning. “But does that mean your neighbor bought you flowers?”

You watched him for a second — the way he tried to look merely curious when he was clearly worried. Spencer was never good at faking it.

“It was Jack’s idea. But… yeah. He came along. Apparently it was a token of appreciation for the cookies I left for them on the second day.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. “… cookies?”

“Jack liked cookies and I needed to apologize for the noise and for almost knocking his dad over in the hallway,” you shrugged. “I’m good with kids, Spencer.”

“You don’t even make cookies for me.”

“You’re not even five. And you’ve never bought me flowers.” You nudged your hand across the table.

“Spencer, are you jealous? I can bake you cookies.”

“Too late,” he pouted, crossing his arms, before giving up and starting to laugh. “But… is he divorced?”

“Who?”

“Your neighbor.”

“I think so. How do you know?”

“You mentioned the son, but not the mother. You would have mentioned her if she was on your doorstep. And I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t accept that kind of attention from someone who’s already married.”

You blinked, impressed. “Have you ever thought about becoming an FBI agent?”

“I have. The fitness part turned me off.”

You laughed, remembering Spencer’s phone calls. It was one o’clock, with him just complaining about his sore legs, cursing someone named Derek, and saying how unfair life was.

“I don’t know much about his romantic past, I just know that he lives alone with his son and is single. He keeps to himself.”

Spencer stared at you for a few seconds, the gears of his mind turning silently behind his clear eyes. Then he looked down at his coffee, twirling the cup between his fingers.

“Private?” he repeated, returning his gaze to the croissant. “Private can mean a lot of things. Private because he’s shy? Private because he has a complicated past? Or private because he killed someone in another state and kidnapped a child to have a good cover.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Are you profiling my neighbor or writing a script for a 2000s TV show?”

“I’m talking to my sister,” he replied quickly, explaining his point before he could receive any accusations of intrusion. “Who, for the first time in months, is smiling before nine in the morning — without having had three cups of coffee. She’s not planning any murders and hasn’t mentioned or alluded to suicide.”

Have you mentioned how much it sucks to have a profiler brother? Because, well. It sucks. “Okay, he probably doesn’t see it that way, let’s change the subject.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed, stealing a piece of his pie. “Have you seen the price of flowers these days? And would anyone who doesn’t care be careful to choose a flower that won’t cause an allergic reaction?”

“Spencer.”

“I’m already changing the subject.”

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Tag: @presidentdangdang @dramioneforevertilltheend @esposadomd @hederahelix12 @cultish-corner @iyskgd @newavenger

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Pining days piece from the late anbu days

Kks: [gasp]......... [I actually fell /asleep/ asleep] Already done with the morning circuit? Gai: Duh, it's 10am

Welcome back, rival. Kks: Yo..... Here. Gai: For me? Kks: I saw it at a stand and thought of you... I didn't wake you did I? Gai: Nah, once i know it was you, I fell back asleep instantly. Trying to get a jump on challenging me? Kks: No. sicko

Gai: Ah, I did almost step on your head when I got up to pee. Kks: [chuckle] YEOW! Gai: Your feet look nasty. You should soak in my tub at least. I have a few errands today. However, I can't leave my eternal rival in this state! Help yourself to any med supplies while I'm out! There's a meal for you as well. Take it easy, ok? I'll return soon!

Kks: If I'm not shitting my brains out all day. Gai: THEN DON'T EAT IT! LIKE I CARE! See you

Kks: Thanks, Gai

Gai: REST!

Kks: He's busy. I should go soon... Genma: Oi, go see gai if you can. Shocker, he misses you. Gai: hmm! He did stay. Out cold.

Gai: AAA!! Kks: I thought you were always on guard?? Gai: You are the WORST GUEST [both laughing]

[obito-in-disguise]

| You smack their butt |

Featuring: Geto Suguru, Fushiguro Toji, Satoru Gojo, Nanami Kento, Kamo Choso and Ryomen Sukuna.

Geto Suguru

Crack!

The sound of your hand making contact with his behind was loud and obscene. His eyes widen as he surges forward from the force, hands grabbing the counter in front of him for support.

He whips his head in your direction, glaring at you with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

"What the fu-"

"What? so you can do it to me but I can't do it to you?" You snicker, the glimmer in your eye and the way you struggle to contain your laughter all too familiar.

Satoru.

Geto sighed, his hand moving to rub his sore behind. He glared at you once again, mentally noting to stop you from hanging out with the white-haired menace so frequently.

His idiocy was clearly rubbing off on you.

Fushiguro Toji

Toji watches in amusement as you recoil, shaking your hand around in pain.

"What the hell are your glutes made of? metal?!"

He only grinned ominously as he got up from his seat, setting down his chopsticks.

He stretched his arms over his head, joints cracking as he started to warm up.

"Toji...what are you doing..."

He looks up in mock confusion "isn't it my turn?"

"No!..." You squeal, running down the hall away from him. Toji's payback was always 10x what you inflicted.

"Don't start what you can't finish doll..." he chuckles before taking after you with inhumane speed.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru grins and shoves his ass out more, arching his back and making an obscene moaning sound.

"What the fuck is wrong with you" you laugh, half amused, half disturbed.

"Me? You're the one going around and smacking people's butts little lady. What's wrong with you?"

You watch him as he stands upright again, adjusting his shades.

You hum "Not everyone's, just yours."

"Ah...so you admit my derriere had a certain... appeal..." he grins, pulling his glasses down and smiling at you seductively.

You groan, getting up and heading out the room. This was a mistake, Satoru was obviously a weird freak.

He chuckles chasing after you. "Hey wait! What about round two?..."

Nanami Kento

Nanami's breath gets caught in his throat when he feels your hand land harshly on his behind. He stiffens, glaring into the distance in mortification.

You broke into laughter, covering your mouth before quickly moving to pull him into a hug. "Oh ken...I'm so sorry"

He glances down at you, watching how you're unable to catch your breath from laughing despite being 'sorry'.

His shoulders relaxed despite his embarrassment, and he slowly hugged you back.

He was used to your behaviour by now. Now he was too busy wondering how that delicate hand of yours packed such a punch.

"Yes very funny, I'll have to get you back for that though sweetheart."

Kamo Choso

Leave this poor baby alone omg.

Choso's eyes widen in horror when you smack his ass. He turns around slowly, looking at you in such terror that you can't help but burst out laughing.

He laughs along with you in fear "ha...ha ha...ha" before quickly dashing out the door. "I have to go."

"Choso wait!-" but he's long gone, now you feel worried. Choso was new to a lot of things and you've most likely just terrified him. You sigh, picking up your phone to call him, hoping he'll pick.

Yuji stares at Choso in confusion and growing anger as he explains that you suddenly hit him and that he doesn't know what to do. Yuji is confused because he's never known you to be the violent type.

"Wait, where’d she hit you, Cho?..." Choso flushes at Yuji's question, slowly pointing to his butt.

"Here..."

Yuji can't help himself when he bursts into laughter, here he was thinking you were abusing his brother but you were just being kinky.

Choso returns later that night much to your relief. You jump up, hugging him tightly and apologising profusely when he suddenly smiles and pulls away.

"Its ok lovie...I understand now"

You sigh in relief.

"You're a freak..." He smiles innocently at you, repeating Yuji's earlier words to him, unaware of the connotations.

"...You know what?...yeah"

Ryomen Sukuna

You were currently stuffed in the linen closet, a hand slapped over your mouth to prevent your whimpers of fear from escaping.

What on earth was happening you ask? Well you were hiding from Sukuna because you had the bright idea inspired by a cursed tiktok to smack him on the butt.

You could hear his psychotic laughs of delight as he stomped through the house, looking for you.

"Oh y/n...come out come out wherever you are..."

He most likely knew where you were but was enjoying this twisted game of chase.

Your suspicions were confirmed when he ripped the door to your hiding space open, lunging toward you.

You shrieked in terror as he grabbed you and hoisted you over his shoulder. Despite the fact that he just spent the last 5 minutes hunting you down like a maniac, Sukuna would never actually lay a finger on you...in a capacity to harm anyway.

He lands a playful retaliation smack as he stalks towards the bedroom with you still slung helplessly over his shoulder.

"My turn..."

Why're boys so jumpy when you smack their butts🙄 they be walking around all caked up too🙄🙄

Feel free to check out more of my Jujutsu Kaisen fics and other stories!

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[kilojulietsierra]

So, now what? (Dr Abbot x Reader)

Just a little idea I had after watching the finale last night. (SPOILERS)

Takes place in the scene where the crew is having beers in the park. A little bit of Abbot x female!reader, a hint of Javadi x Mateo if you squint. Literally just a little blurb I had in my head before bed and thought i'd share.

~~~~~~

They all sat there, in a reflective, exhausted silence for a moment. VIctoria is the one that breaks it, "So, now what?"

There's a hesitant moment of silence, and then… laughter. They all laugh. Some a little more hysterical than others. Robby laughs the loudest, the day hitting him all at once, "Now, you go home. Go home and do… whatever it is you need to do to sleep tonight." He leans forward and rubs both hands over his face and chuckles again.

Mateo grins and gives Victoria a little look, not so subtly, "Comfy sweats and something funny on TV."

Beside him Donnie scoffs, "Hot shower, Mom's leftover lasagna and melatonin. I don't care if I fall asleep with my face in the plate."

The group laughs again. Then, soft ,almost like she's talking to herself Princess sighs, "Think I'm gonna put on some Forensic Files, have a glass a wine, and troll Tinder until I fall asleep on the couch."

"What about you boss man?" Abbot elbows Robby and takes another drink of beer.

"Me? Oh I'm just gonna go home, and go to bed. Try not to wake up until Monday." He sets his beer down so he can do exactly that.

Samira speaks up, "What about you Dr. Abbot?"

Jack takes a deep breath and nods, "I am going to go home, take a hot shower, heat up the dinner I was supposed to eat," He glances at his watch, "Four hours ago. Then I am going to make love to my wife until I pass out, and if I wake up sometime before seven am, I'll come back, check on my night shift gremlins, see if they need any more help."

While Samira and VIctoria are busy blushing and avoiding eye contact entirely, Jack and Robby cheers with what's left of their beer.

A black truck pulls up on the street between the hospital and the park. "Speak of the devil." Robby chuckles as he picks up his bag.

Abbot looks over his shoulder and smirks, "I'm gonna tell her you said that."

"Go right ahead, we've called each other worse." Robby smiles and stands up as the truck door slams behind them.

A pretty, young woman walks around the back of the truck in a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie, twirling a simple black cane in one hand like a baton. "So, my mama was right, only hoodlums hang out in the park after dark."

"Watch it." Donnie snarked back at her as she approached. Jack just smiled and finished cleaning the blood off his shoe.

Mateo waved, "Hey Mrs. A."

She met Robby half way and he wrapped her up in a big hug, "Hey trouble."

"Look who's talking." He teased her as he gave her an extra squeeze. "Make sure he takes it easy tonight."

"You know I'll try." Her voice was soft and maybe a little tired. Like she'd been patiently, anxiously, waiting to hear something, anything, while she had been stuck at home. "Take care of yourself." She rubbed his back as they pulled apart. As Robby walked away she walked over to the bench and squeezed onto the end next to Princess. "Everybody okay?"

For the most part everyone just nods, Princess leans her head on her shoulder and closes her eyes. Jacks wife just smiles and leans her own head against Princess's. "Anyone need a ride home?"

All around the group pretty much shakes their head, "I think we're goin' to hang out here for awhile Mrs. A." Matteo gives her a smile.

"Ok." She returns the smile like she gets it. She does. "How about you Doc?" She shifts her gaze to her husband in the bench across from hers.

He doesn't flinch under her gaze, he knows she's triaging him as they sit. She's looking at his posture, his eyes, his facial expression, he's already taken the prosthesis off and he knows that tells her a lot, "Waitin' on you." Jack gives her a grin and a wink.

WIth a nod she gives Princess a hug, it's awakard at their angle but they both smile. When she stands up she flips the cane end over end like she's done it a thousand times and holds the grip out towards him, "You want this or you gonna put that back on?"

Jack just groans, "Just help me up." He held his right hand out and she took it. They locked their hands around eachother's forearm and she set her feet to take his weight as she helped him up. He took his cane and leaned on it, not so sneakily watching her ass as she bent over to grab his backpack and hand it to him. "C'mere." He used her grip on the bag to tug her to him for a quck kiss and a little tap on the ass. Like he didn't think twice about the PDA in front of his coworkers he turned around. "You kids stay out of trouble. Go home and get some sleep." He gave each of the others a look, an easy smile as he shouldered his bag. "You did good today."

Beside him his wife grabbed his prosthesis off the bench where he'd stood it and gave everyone a wave, "Night guys." Then walked with Jack to his truck where she stood by as he opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

The others watched as she walked around the front of the truck, Jacks truck, and climbed into the drivers seat.

Samira watched as the truck started up and drove away, "That's Dr. Abbots wife?"

Donnie and Mateo both nodded. Princess spoke up, "She was his physical therapist at Walter Reid. Very young. Very sexy. Very scandalous." She chuckled at the other girls expressions and took a sip of her beer. "Don't worry, one of these days it'll be our turn."

Victoria might not have seen the slight blush on Mateo's cheeks, but it was there. Princess and Donnie shared a knowing looke, tapped their beer cans together in a cheers and sat in the dark, listening to the chatter and the sound of sirens running code 3 in the distance.

~~

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

hiiii!! i love your no doubt series — jake & y/n are the sweetest i’m obsessed!!

i know you don’t focus on jake being an idol a lot but it would be so cute to see maybe him telling his fans about y/n esp bc he’s so obsessed with her :O

HIIII hehehe thanks for being part of the jakeynation <3 and OMGGGG WAIT YES HES SO OBSESSED he cant help but smile whenever someone comments saying "where's yn" or something like that (and also for our sake, let's pretend in the nodoubt!universe, fans aren't crazy and saesangs don't exist and fans would be real fans and be happy that jake is in a loving relationship instead of haters no tea no shade ok byee ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧)

──── TOTALLY CHILL, TOTALLY NORMAL 📷 💬✨ ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

"Where's Y/N?"

Jake reads the comment out loud with a squint, leaning in to look at the scrolling chat from his phone that's propped up on a stand in front of him.

He pauses.

And then—

He breaks out into the biggest grin.

And that's it. He's done for. Because now he's going on a full monologue.

"Oh, Y/N?" Jake repeats, voice going soft around the way he says your name like it's the favorite part of the sentence (it is).

"Guys look—" He spins slightly in his chair, reaching over to grab something from the side of the desk. "—she made me lunch today."

Jake holds up a small pink bento box proudly, his eyes shining as he shows it off to the camera. "Woke up early, packed the whole thing, and then—"

He shows a small sticky note to the camera briefly before looking at it, "She left me a threatening note saying I'm sleeping on the couch if I don't eat the veggies in here. She's so romantic."

Jake laughs to himself, shaking his head as he sets the box back down.

His eyes scan the chat again until one comment catches his eye.

"Do you love her?"

Jake whispers it out loud as he reads it.

He blinks.

"...What kind of ques—of course I do," he says, not even hesitating to the camera. "I'm literally obsessed with her. I think would sell my—"

Jake stops.

Blinks again.

"...Actually I think she told me not to say this kind of stuff online anymore. Hold on."

He clears his throat, sitting up straighter now.

"I love my girlfriend a very normal and very healthy amount. I am not obsessed with her. I do not have her contact saved under twelve heart emojis and a star. I do not leave practice early just to hear about her day. I am totally normal. Totally chill."

A beat of silence.

A million comments rushing in.

Then—

Buzz.

Jake pauses as a notification pops up on his phone screen. He leans in, squinting.

Then—

He bursts out laughing, hand flying up to cover his face as his ears go completely pink.

"Oh my god," his voice muffled as his hand covers his face still, "She just texted me."

"She said—all caps by the way—'STOP TALKING ABOUT ME I'M WATCHING YOU RIGHT NOW AND YOUR FACE IS RED YOU LOSER.'"

Jake nearly falls out his chair as he leans back, giggling like an idiot teenage girl.

After a while, he finally catches his breath and exhales, saying a little softer, "She's watching right now."

He leans back towards the camera, looking right into it—

"Hi pretty," he says, voice low and shameless. "Sorry. Couldn't help it. I miss you."

The comments are spamming in more than ever, but Jake doesn't even see them.

He smiles again, smaller this time. Warmer.

Just for you.

"I'll be home soon."

tag list pt 1!:

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heekolazz @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Love's Patient

Bang Chan x Reader

Synopsis: Having surgery is rough, but having your best friend come over makes things even more complicated

Warnings: SMUT p in v unprotected, pulling out, use of the term baby.

A/N: For my lovely sister wife @breakmeoff I hope you enjoy it babes! I apprecaite y'alls patience with me the last few days! Today is my moms birthday so idk how much I'll be on, but i'll try to get some writing done! I appreciate you guys so big!

Xoxo💋

“Seriously? I’m gone for five minutes and this is what you do?” Chan lightly scolds as he walks in to see you, balancing on your knee cart, making yourself some food.

“I’m hungry,” you pout as you try to move the bowl of food and yourself around the kitchen.

“I told you I would be right back.”

“Chan, I’m not helpless.”

“No one said you were.”

“Then I can do things for myself.”

“Ok, miss independent,” he smirks. He stands back, watching you struggle to grab everything and balance on your scooter. Your eyes flit to him, an amused look gracing his face as he watches you.

You drop your fork on the floor with a groan. You set your stuff on the counter, trying your best to balance so you can pick up the fork.

Chan’s hands come to your waist, your heart speeds up at his touch.

“Would you just please sit down. I’ll fix your food,” he says gently. You huff but abort your mission.

“Fine,” you grumble as you go back to the couch. You sit there, a frown present on your face.

“It’s only for a few weeks.”

“Yeah a few weeks of being a burden,” you say as you take the food from his hands.

“Thank you,” you mumble and he breathes out a laugh.

“You aren’t a burden. If you were, I wouldn’t have offered to come help.” He sighs. Chan’s your best friend, has been for years now, so when you told him you were having surgery on your foot, there was no question he would help; whether you liked it or not.

“You know I hate relying on people.”

“And you know I’m going to be here for you no matter what.” He smiles. Over the years you developed a small crush on Chan, and who wouldn’t? That hair, the aussie accent, his sweet heart, cute dimples, and those damn abs??? A blind girl would fall in love with him.

You finish your food, noticing how far away he’s sitting.

“I need something else.” You say quietly, feeling bad for bothering him.

“At your service madam.” He replies cheekily.

“Cuddles?” His brows shoot up at the word.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Chan it’s fine. You won’t.” You go to move your self up a little to make room for him to sit beside you on the couch.

“Y/n, really, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not a China Doll,” You glare at him playfully.

You carefully move your casted foot down.

“Hey, ok, ok, at least let me help,” he interjects as you struggle to get the pillow further down the couch. He moves the pillow for you, making sure your foot is carefully propped up before positioning himself behind you. You let your head fall onto his chest, his heart beat a little more rapid than it ought to be with so little movement on his part.

“You ok?” you ask, eyes not leaving the tv screen.

“Perfect.”

-

Over the next few weeks Chan has been right by your side, cooking, cleaning even helping you, selectively, bathe and keep your cast dry. He’s even had Felix make you his famous brownies.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Felix’s brownies are better than store bought, and they’re fresh. I got vanilla ice cream too.”

That same night you’re waking up, foot throbbing in pain, near to tears when Chan stirs awake in the recliner in the corner of your room. You throw the blankets off, ready to get up when you trip and land on the ground with a sharp yelp.

“Y/n!” Chan says, voice laced with sleep and worry. He turns on the lamp on the table beside him. He see’s you sitting on the ground, face scrunched in pain.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice is calm but concerned.

“I needed my medicine.” You whimper as the searing pain in your foot gets worse.

“It really fucking hurts,” you say quietly, trying to blink back tears. You weren’t one to really cry in front of everyone, not even Bang Chan. He could count on one hand how many times you’d cried in front of him.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he cups your face, thumbs wiping the tears away like it’s natural for him; the look of concern and gentleness upon his face.

“You were finally sleeping so peacefully and I know how hard it is for you to get to sleep,” Chan sighs at your words.

“No, stop that. You aren’t supposed to worry about me, ok? I’m here to take care of you!” he explains, lips pressing against your forehead in what feels like a habit, but it isn’t. He’s never done that actually. Both of you freeze for a moment.

“Come on,” he says quietly. Its as if talking too loud will spook you or something. He helps you up, using him and the mattress beside you to brace onto as you lift your knee up on the scooter.

The two of you go into the kitchen, Chan dispensing the pain medication for you and writing down the time on the dry erase board for you.

“There in six hours you can have more.” He looks at you, a pout on your face.

“Still in pain?” he asks gently. You nod and Chan gets an idea.

“Come on, let’s go sit down.” He says as he helps you into the living room.

“I want my bed,” you complain.

“Ok, let’s get you to bed then.” He smiles as you both walk back into your room, and he helps you climb into bed before leaving you alone. You furrow your brows as he walks out and you hear rustling in the kitchen as you grab your remote and turn on your tv. You put it on some late night tv show, half way paying attention to it.

Chan comes back with two bowls filled with brownies and ice cream.

“It won’t take the pain away, but it might help distract you?” he offers with a weak smile. You smile at him genuinely, your stomach filling with butterflies that he’s actually trying to help, even though he knows he can’t do much.

“Thank you,” you mumble as he hands it to you. You take a bite and realize he even warmed the brownie up, causing you to grin.

“Wanna sit with me?” you ask as he’s about to walk over to the chair, a piece of brownie on his lip. He stops and turns to you, causing you to giggle a little. He climbs into bed next to you, and you can’t resist wiping the brownie off his lip, the moment charged with electric tension.

You pull your thumb to your mouth, eye contact solid between you, and eat the crumb. You watch as his adams apple bobs in his throat.

“I um, we should probably try to let you rest.” He says quietly, breaking away from the moment.

“I’ve slept enough, I’m tired of sleeping. Plus we haven’t finished our snack.” You motion to the bowls of brownie bits and melted ice cream. He purses his lips, caught between doing what he wants and what he thinks is right. You both finish the dessert quietly, a slightly awkward silence between you as spoons hit the bowls in the otherwise fairly quiet room. You place your bowls on your beside tables, laying down.

“Cuddle with me?” you ask, a slight pouty lip making its way out. Chris is conflicted, he knows it’s dangerous, he doesn’t want to take advantage of you and he’s done well with holding himself back.

“Sure, just for a little bit.”

Your head lays on his chest and once again you notice his heart rate is high.

“Thank you for helping me out,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me, y/n.” he smiles as his fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, the tv completely forgotten with the tension like a live wire in the room.

“It still hurts.” You murmur before your eyes meet his. Your eyes are desperate for relief; anything he can provide you’d take. The medication took the edge off but the dull ache is still enough to make you sick to your stomach.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Distract me,” you shrug slightly as your hand goes onto his chest.

“Y/n,” he breathes with a soft smile as he shakes his head.

“Chan, I don’t care how, I just-umph!” your eyes grow wide as you register what’s happening. Chan’s lips are soft against yours, his hand cradling your face, the kiss not too intense, but enough to make your head spin.

It quickly turns heated, breaths mixing, tongues mingling and exploring each other’s mouths, lips slick from saliva and for a moment, you forget about the pain of your ankle. He gently rolls you to your back, lips still on yours, hands drifting down your stomach to the waist band of your shorts.

“Chan.” The hushed moan reaches his ears and his eyes open instantly, hand stopping suddenly. He pulls back, both of your lips swollen.

“Holy shit, I’m sorry, I just, I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll go; I’ll sleep in the living room.”

“No wait! It- it was helping,” you admit sheepishly. He takes a deep breath, looking over your face for any signs of joking or even lying. He dives back down, lips reattaching to yours like they belong there.

“This is,” he kisses your lips once, “just to help,” he says against them, “with the pain.” He mutters, words slurring together.

“Mhm,” you moan against him your hands tangling in his hair. His lips attach to your neck, your hips lifting off the bed slightly. Chan notices and growls against the skin of your neck.

“I’ll hurt you,” he whispers in your ear.

“We can make it work,” you whimper as his teeth graze your skin.

“Baby if you cum it’s gonna hurt,” he says looking into your eyes.

“Chan please,” you beg desperately, thighs squeezing together. He sits up removing his shirt, your whines going straight to his cock.

“You have to tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?” You nod as he methodically removes your shorts and panties before taking off his own clothes. Chan keeps your casted leg straight and on the pillow so it’s lifted slightly, and he helps you onto your side. He grabs some lube out of your night stand and slicks himself up with it.

“Gonna make you feel better baby.” He mumbles as he lines himself up, looking to you for any last second of hesitation. When he finds none, his thick cock enters you, causing you to gasp and your eyes to close, your face turning into the pillow under your head.

He bottoms out slowly, shuttering at your walls grip him like a vice.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he says more to himself than you. He stays there for a moment, your head turning behind him, eyes meeting.

“Is this- I- um-,” he stammers before your lips are on his and he pulls out, slowly pushing himself back in, every single inch and vein felt inside you as he does. You whimper against his lips, hand hooking around his neck to bring him closer to you.

“Fuck, please go faster,” you mumble against his lips and his hips snap at a quicker pace, being careful to stay tuned in to your words. A gasp falls from your lips as his head kisses your cervix, hitting that sweet spot that has you forgetting all the pain, making pleasure the only thing that exists right now.

“Fuck, Chan,” you squeak as you turn away from him, fisting the sheet beneath you.

“Fuck this feels so damn good,” he says as his forehead rests on your shoulder for a minute.

“Ah, shit,” he curses as your walls clamp down around him. He continues to thrust, his cock hitting the right spot every single time, forcing the tightness in your bell to build.

“God yes,” you moan as his hand comes around to the front of you, pinching one of your nipples beneath your tank top.

“Chan I’m getting close,” you whimper as you can feel his cock twitch inside your walls.

“Me too, are you okay?” he asks concerned.

“Fuck, yes ‘s perfect,” you groan as your muscles start to contract. Chan carefully picks up the pace, slamming into you as easily as he can, his right hand coming down between your legs to rub on your puffy clit.

You squeal, at the sensitivity, your walls fluttering like crazy as you reach the pinnacle of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you moan as your eyes screw shut and the feeling washes over you, your body trembling just a little. Chan quickly pulls out, pumping his cock sloppily and he spills onto his stomach with a beautiful whimper. The two of you lay there for a minute, heavy breathing mixing with the smell of sex and sweat.

Chan gets up, grabbing a warm damp towel, cleaning up the mess on his own stomach and helping clean up between your legs.

“Are you ok?” he asks tentatively.

“Y-yeah.” He nods before taking the towel away and tossing it in the bin.

“Will you lay with me until I fall asleep?” you ask cautiously. He nods and slides his underwear back on, helping you do the same, before he gets in behind you and wraps his arms around you, allowing you to fall asleep somewhat peacefully.

-

After that night, yours and Chan’s relationship changed, but you weren’t sure how. There was a closeness that was there, but a new distance at the same time. He was oh so attentive to your needs and yet on a personal level he felt so far from you.

“I need to get a change of clothes,” you’d say. Chan would be up out of the chair after the word need, ready to take direction and then helping you change.

“I’m craving ice cream,” you’d say to simply make conversation, and yet Chan took it as his personal mission to get it for you.

One night he walks into the living room and notices you trying to scratch your back, so he comes over, lifts up your shirt and does it for you, smiling at you as your face turns a light shade of pink.

He helps feed your animals. He does a grocery run for you each week and one particular week he finds a super fuzzy blanket that’s your favorite color and he just buys it for you, along with the rest of your groceries because, “You’re injured, you don’t need to spend money.” To which you would roll your eyes to but thank him anyway. Chan had been very hands on with helping you too, constantly cuddling you, holding your hand for follow up appointments when he could sense you were nervous or just simply didn’t want to be there. Over all he’s a great care taker; one you know you’ll miss.

-

The day the doctor puts you in the boot, it’s a relief for your foot, but you know Chan has to get back to regularly scheduled days.

The first step in your new walking boot is awful. It’s like dull knives are stabbing the underside of your foot with every step. Chan takes his time, helping you, wincing with you when he see’s your face twist.

“If I could carry you, I would,” he says.

“It’s just cause I haven’t been on it in a month.” You try to reassure him and smile through the pain, but with another step the smile quickly fades.

“Fuck this sucks.” You breathe. As you slowly make your way out of the doctor’s office.

You two sit in the car for a moment, Chan not turning it on.

“I told the company I would be taking you to your appointments so they know that I’ll be gone sometimes, but I can’t be over everyday.” He says sounding a bit guilty.

“It’s fine Chan, really. I understand.” You smile, your heart breaking into two pieces. The air between you has been thick sense that night. Neither of you bringing up the fact that you slept together, neither of you knowing what to make out of it despite wanting the same thing.

The drive back to your apartment is silent, deathly silent. He helps you get inside, and sets your things down.

“I have to meet the guys for dinner tonight so we can talk about recording sessions tomorrow.” He says apologetically.

“Oh, yeah, ok. Um, thanks for everything.” You smile nervously and his nails scratch the back of his head awkwardly.

He walks out the door, leaving you standing there.

-

The first few days you try not to bother him, but not talking about this is eating you up inside. The apartment is quiet, with a ghost of his presence still there. The blanket he bought you even has his cologne scent on it. He texts once a day to check up on you, and after the two weeks of it, you’re missing him so much and you’re sick of the tension.

You pick up the phone dialing his number. It’s late, he’s probably asleep, but you don’t care.

“Hello?” he answers sounding fully awake.

“Hey,” you mumble, as you stand in the middle of your living room.

“What’s up? Are you ok? Did you fall?” he sounds frantic and you scoff playfully.

“No, but can you come over?”

“Give me 15 and I’ll be on my way.” Your heart leaps into your throat at his answer. You had expected an excuse, something so he could try to avoid you.

You pace nervously. How were you supposed to bring this up? How do you ask what it meant, knowing it may not mean anything to him? Did he think about it? Or was it just what he said it was, to help distract you from the pain?

About 30 minutes later there’s a knock at your door. You open it, revealing Chan, hair messy, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and a weary look on his face. His eyes scan your body, looking for injuries.

You invite him in, stepping aside so he can walk in.

“What’s up?”

“What are we doing?” the question just falls from your lips. Your eyes grow wide slightly when his brows shoot up.

“I, what?”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“Chan what was, that night, about?”

“You were in pain, I mean,” he rubs the back of his neck and you nod.

“Right, ok.” You nod, eyes closing as the dagger strikes your heart.

“Why?” he asks suddenly.

“What?”

“Why are you asking? You haven’t brought it up since it happened almost a month ago.”

“I was nervous to.” You shrug.

“Why?”

“I just was, ok. Look you can go now.” You try to rush him out, tears pricking your eyes as you open the door, not looking at him.

“What did it mean to you?” He asks not moving from his spot in the kitchen. You open your mouth to speak, to lie and say nothing, but the words won’t come out, no matter how hard you try to force them to.

His hand comes up to your shoulder and you squeeze your eyes tight.

“Y/n,” he whispers, scared of saying of the wrong thing.

“Yeah?” you ask quietly, voice too vulnerable to say anything out loud. His hands move to your waist, gently turning you to him. He sees the tear streak down your cheek.

“I did that because you were in pain, but,” he takes a deep breath, “I also did it because I wanted to,” he says slowly. Your eyes search his and find sincerity in his words.

“I wanted to be with you, to feel you. To have you as mine.” He whispers as his forehead rests against yours.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he hums in agreement. You pull his face to you and connect your lips in a soft kiss.

“I’ve missed you,” you say against his lips.

“Me too, baby. What do you say I come over every night this week? Hmm? That way we don’t loose anymore time.”  

“That sounds perfect,” you smile kissing his lips again.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader @crystal005 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @lezleeferguson-120

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[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 9

At the Justice League Watchtower.

Diana: Good morning everyone and thank you for coming to this pronto meeting. I known we all have busy schedules so I'll make this quick. Bruce, Clark, and I have been investigating an operation by Lex Luthor. He has been moving round large amounts of radioactive material to a secret lab in the Sahara Desert, we currently do not know what he is planning but last night the radioactivity around the base spiked. We believe that there was some leak of the radioactive materials and we need a plan to contain it.

J'ohn: Are there any civilians in the region?

Clark: No, the lab is far out into the desert. The closest town is a small village with a population of about 1000 people an hour and a half away.

Hal: I could but up a temporary shield around the lab and try to contain the radiation as much as possible.

Bruce: That would be a good start.

Arthur: This is concerning, how can I help?

Diana: There is another shipment currently on a Lexcorp boat heading towards a port in Algiers we need you to stop it.

Bruce: Oliver, you will help Arthur take control of the ship.

Oliver: Got it.

Diana: Barry, while we believe the town and its residents will be safe, we'd like to keep you on stand by just in case.

Barry: Yes ma'am!

Diana: That's all from us. Now that we are together we should start making a solid plan, we start this operation 10pm, local time in Algeria. That gives us 8 hours to prepare. Any questions?

Oliver: Just one question, who's Bruce's new kid?

Everyone turned to look at Danny.

Danny: Hi!

Bruce: This is Danny, alias Phantom, he's Jason's kid... and my grandson.

Barry (laughing): Congratulations Bruce, you're a thirty-four-year-old grandfather.

Arthur: Is he helping us with the operation?

Diana: Yes, Danny is half-ghost and immune to radiation, he'll be helpful if the radiation levels are higher than we expect.

J'onn: You have a quite mind young one.

Danny: If I let you read my thoughts there's a fifty-fifty chance your brain may get scrambled.

J'onn: I see...

Billy: I'm here! Sorry I'm late, just had to finish something before I could leave- Billy looked around the room till he saw Danny. He jumped back and covered his ears.

Clark: You ok there Billy?

Billy: Who is that kid?

Danny: I'm Bruce's grandson.

Billy: ...

Clark: Why?

J'ohn: The gods in Billy's mind all just screamed bloody murder and told him that under no circumstances, should he make Danny mad.

Everyone looked at Danny but before anyone could ask question Constantine walked in.

Constantine: You known if you're going to call a random meeting at least give us more than 3 hours to get ready- Constantine froze when he saw Danny. Shit...

Danny (grinning): Constantine!

Bruce: You two know each other?

Danny: Yes, he's the fool that sold his sold his soul to a hundred separate demons who are all now petition me to decide who actually owns his soul.

Constantine: ...

Hal: Why would they petition you?

Danny: I'm their king.

JL: What!?

Danny: And another thing Constantine, come over here. A green light encircled Constantine throwing him across the room, placing down in a chair next to Danny. You didn't pay your taxes for the last tax season.

Constantine: I- your majesty, I'm not a citizen of the Infinite Realms.

Danny: Actually you are! Danny summoned a scroll. According to section 8, subsection 45, clause B of the Infinite Realms Citizenship and Nationality Status Governing Deaths, Resurrections, and All Other Avoidances of Death Act, also known as the IRCNSGDRAOADA, due to your soul being more than 80% owned by citizens of the Infinite Realms, you too are a citizen of the Infinite Realms, and thus have to pay taxes.

Constantine: I-

Danny: You owe the Crown, aka me, $25,000.

Constantine (nervous): Would your majesty be so kind as to wave my taxes for this year, given I did not know I had to pay?

Danny: I'll give you... 120 days to come up with the money, if not I'll send the tax collectors after you.

Constantine (terrified): You- you're too kind your majesty. Constantine picked up a folder from the table. I'll just read the report... I- got to go. Constantine left the room.

Bruce (tired): Danny...

Danny: I was joking, I'll wave the his missing taxes.

Hal: Why is he so scared of tax collectors?

Danny: The tax collectors in the Infinite Realms are not just nerds with suitcases, they are nerds with suitcases that also carry paintball guns.

J'onn: Paintball guns?

Danny: The paint will never come off till you pay your taxes.

Berry: That sounds so fun!

Arthur: I'm happy to have another king on the team. Finally I have some to talk to about the duties of ruling.

Danny: Tell me about it, for some reason, people can't just do as their told.

Arthur (crying): You understand me my pain.

Clark: Where does your family find these children?

Bruce: We don't find them, they find us!

Diana: As fun as this whole conversation is we do need to prepare for the mission. Let's get to work.

JL: Yes ma'am!

(Master Post)