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deadsetobsessions · 1 month

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“DIDJA SEE THAT, DANNY?!” Tim, a scrawny eleven year old now, excitedly smacked Danny’s arm.

“Ow. Yes, yes I did.”

“Oh, gosh, I have to tell Jazz about this!!” The kid waved his arms about wildly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jaso- I mean, Robin, smiled at me! And said he liked my t-shirt!! Oh my god, he likes literature puns, he even laughed! And then he punched the bad guy in the face! Look! I even saved the tooth!”

“Okayyy, nope!” Danny plucked the tooth and tossed it, ignoring Tim’s betrayed face. “I’ll trade you that for this.”

Danny Held out a piece of paper with Robin’s and Batman’s sigil on it, from when he asked them to sign it after they “saved” the two brothers from the two-bit thugs trying to mug them.

“Oh. My. God. This is like the best day of my life!! I love you, Danny! You’re the best brother ever!! Oh my god! I have to get Nightwing’s signature!!!”

Danny felt a rush of warmth at Tim’s proclamation of affection. Ah, he should probably step in.

“Hey, wait, no, we’re not going to Blüdhaven for you to stalk another vigilante.”

“It’s not just any old vigilante-!” Tim ignored Danny’s dramatic clutching-pearls gesture of mock hurt. “It’s Nightwing. The original Robin! He gave me my first ever hug!”

Danny paused. God dammit.

“…Fine.”

“YESSSSSS!!!!”

——

Danny-

“I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

-is so damn tired.

“Tim. I’m literally a vigilante ghost. What makes you think I’d be stupid enough to argue with a kid who runs around Gotham at night to take pictures of other vigilantes?”

Tim deflated. “Oh. Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight…”

Jazz laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair. “I definitely couldn’t stop Danny when he went out. He trusted me to support him and I trusted him to come to me if he was injured, though. Can you promise me that, Tim?”

“Yeah… okay, Jazz, I promise.” Tim promised, even if he was still pouty.

Danny chimed in.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally worried and I’m gonna hover like a mother hen when you go out, but again, I know how stubborn and crazy we vigilante types have to be.” Danny paused. “Do you want me to put up a token protest?”

Tim nodded, sulking. “Yes, please. I had a speech planned out.”

Jazz and Danny exchanged amused glances.

“Oh, okay, my bad, kiddo. Here, let’s start from the top.”

“Okay. Ahem,” Tim straightened his back, settling into his previous mulish expression once more. “I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

Danny placed an appropriately disapproving frown on his face. “No, you can’t! It’s dangerous! You could get hurt! You’re just a child!”

Tim launched into his speech. “But I can’t stay still and do nothing when people are getting hurt! Even…!”

They were gonna be here for a while. There was definitely something about Batman going on a spiral because Jason wouldn’t be able to walk again after the Joker got to him. Danny wondered if ectoplasm could help. He might offer, if it actually had a change of getting Tim out of the vigilante business.

But that’s for later, because they had time. Jazz was on Spring Break… and they’re still staying here for free, after all of these years.

“So, how are you going to convince Robin to let you be Robin?” Jazz asked Tim.

Tim froze. “I… hadn’t thought of that yet.”

“Well, you could always remind him of the fact that we saved him from the Joker. He seemed pretty ready to leave the Robin mantle, the last time I saw him as Phantom.”

“I don’t want to blackmail him into it!” Tim whined.

“It’ll just be a suggestion, Tim.” Jazz smiled patiently.

“Besides,” Danny continued, smirking mischievously at his adopted little brother. “If you were actually blackmailing him, you’d pull out the photos where he ate dirt.”

“I guess that’s true…” Tim mumbled. “I know! I’ll have to follow them to see how I can best approach him!”

"I think that's called stalking," Jazz deadpanned.

"Well, it's not any worse than what he's already done." Danny shrugged at his older sister. "Sure, kid. Why not? Do whatever you want."

"I was planning to!" Tim bounced off to grab his photography gear. Jazz stared off after him.

"Should we be encouraging that?"

"More like can we actually stop him?" Danny leaned back, lazily completing his GED assignments. Jazz sighed.

"Guess not. Make sure he doesn't get in trouble."

"Do you even know how hard that is, Jazz?" Danny complained, dodging the whack Jazz sent at the back of his head. She smirked at him.

"Womp, womp, Danny. How does karma taste today?"

Danny flipped her off as he put the last punctuation on the paper. He heard a clatter and groaned.

“I’m gonna go watch Tim stalk Batman for the night. Want anything from the store?”

Jazz hummed. “Get me the specialty strawberry ice cream, from that one place?”

“The one that’s definitely a front for Falcone’s money laundering??”

“Yeah. They make good strawberry ice cream.”

“Sure.”

Danny went ghost and flew straight through the walls to catch Tim sneaking out by the scruff of his collar.

“No. Bad Tim.”

“Awww, come on Danny!”

#danny phantom #batman #tim drake #bruce wayne #jason todd #dc x dp #dick grayson #nightwing #bamf danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #Tim is a fanboy above all fanboys #Jason is just straight up not having a good time #baby Jason would totally giggle with a kid and punch a grown man in the face right after #jazz: oh how the tables have tabled #jazz Fenton #Danny Fenton #squatter! danny fenton

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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Sniff, sniff…. Woof.

“Johnny? Johnny, baby, come here!”

Your big wolf boy comes bounding in from the living room as you shut the front door, immediately rearing up to sniff at your neck and face and hands. Satisfied, he licks your cheek and drops down again.

“Alright, listen up, handsome.” You grab his cheeks, scritching along his jaw and grinning as his big blue eyes go dopey. “My sister and her husband are going to stay the night. You are going to be a polite boy because you love me and don’t want to give my sister anything to talk shit about. Yes?”

A sneeze that he (for once) aims away from you. You laugh, drop a kiss between his eyes.

“Good talk.”

As usual, he follows you through the house as you shed clothes and shoes and bags. You ramble about the grocery store and your day, mostly just to get it out so your headspace can be clear for the evening. Helps to have a little (relatively) listener following at your heels.

He camps out in the bathroom while you shower, licking the glass door until you scold him - per usual. And again when he tries to lick the clean water off your leg. Only starts getting restless and grumpy when he sees you change into “outside” clothes rather than pjs.

You groan as he tries to herd you away from your own closet. Must be mixed with a shepherding dog because he’s a damn pushy jerk.

“Enough, bud,” you sigh. “Look, I don’t wanna go much either. But it’ll be worse if I don’t.”

He mouths off at you, a new thing he’s started up that reminds you of a husky. Maybe you should get one of those doggy DNA tests.

“I know I know,” you coo, shimmying into a pair of pants that your sister won’t be able to tease makes your ass look flat. “I’d rather snuggle up and watch 90s vampire movies too. But I already said I’d go and this means I’ll be able to skip seeing her on her birthday.”

More grumbles, but at least he climbs up on the bed to pout. You finish dressing and head for the vanity - no way you can go out with your sister without makeup.

As you pass, you roll him over to scratch his belly - politely ignoring his reaction. God, you really need to get him in for a neutering. If you catch him humping one more pillow—

When it’s time to go, you drop down to give him one last hug.

“Be good, baby. I’ll be home soon with some new friends. I love you.”

—

After dinner, your sister’s husband suggests a bar. And, of course, it’s a sports bar. Man can’t go more than an hour or two without.

You and your sister chat while his eyes stayed glued to the screens. Well, she chats. You mostly just provide the audience she constantly craves, the validation she always needs.

At some point your excuse yourself to order another drink, weaving between the patrons and sighing at a chance to let your face rest for a moment. While you’re waiting, someone brushes up close behind you, startles you.

“Och, sorry, hen. Madhouse in here.”

You blink, tilt your head back to see a gorgeous pair of blue eyes shining down at you. Takes your breath away.

“Oh! Um, no problem, I get it.”

You try to scoot as much as you can - but it really is packed, especially at the bar - and the man takes the opportunity to occupy any free space you have.

Not that you’re complaining. He’s got the type of face they put on magazines with hooks like “sexiest man alive.” A killer grin as he winks down at you, arm bracing on the bar.

“Buy ya a drink for bein’ so rude?”

You’ve barely gotten the start of, “oh it’s alright,” out before he’s signaling the bartender. His stature and presence gets him instant service though, so you let it go, fidgeting restlessly.

Even his voice sounds like a sin worth committing. He’s too attractive. Too handsome to not know it; and definitely too handsome to be chatting you up and ordering you a drink.

“You here with anyone?” he asks with an edge that makes your spine prickle. Yet you almost feel like you imagine it. His tone is normal, his expression hasn’t changed and yet. Something subsonic in the timbre of his voice, maybe.

“My sister and her husband,” you reply.

“No husband of your own?”

You try to laugh, it comes out strained and awkward. “Ah, the only man in my life has four legs.”

Instead of looking annoyed by the brush off, his eyes spark.

“Dog?”

“Yup!” And okay, alarms in your head aside, you’re always happy to talk about Johnny. He’s a safe topic. You fish your phone out of your back pocket and show him your lock screen.

The man takes a quick look at the screen, an odd, private smile flicking across his face. There and then gone, before those intense eyes are locked on you again.

“He friendly?”

You laugh a bit, perk up as the bartender returns with your drink. “Not with men. Thanks for buying!”

as you turn to go, he grabs your hip. Not hard, or even too low. But you gasp quietly, the heat of his palm searing through your clothes.

“Name’s soap, by the way.”

Infinitely more nervous now, you stutter out your own and then retreat to your sister and her husband.

Spend the rest of the night pretending not to watch Soap. He doesn’t return the courtesy, eyes trained on you, lurking around the bar. So visible it seems to only you. Something about the way the light catches his eyes reminds you of when Johnny senses a threat. When he gets low and growly, hair standing on end, eyes focused.

Soap looks like he’s hunting you.

Thankfully, your sister complains about the noise after an hour or so and the three of you leave. You’re relieved to be going home.

As you step inside, you call for Johnny again.

“Wait, who the hell is Johnny?” your sister’s husband asks, an odd look on his face. “You’re living with someone?”

You snort a bit. Does he seriously not remember you talking about your dog?

“Yeah,” you joke, “he’s the love of my life, my one and only—”

You hear the clack of the doggy door and call out again. Johnny trots in panting.

“Did you just come in from a run?” you chuckle, putting a hand out in greeting.

He comes right up to you, presses his nose to the spot where “Soap” grabbed you and snuffles.

“I know, I smell wrong,” you soothe.

He grumbles and licks at your shirt, but you gently nudge him away, turning as your sister scoffs.

“You still do that thing where you talk to them like people?” She asks. “Don’t you think that’s… childish?”

“Johnny’s basically a person in a human body,” you reply, laughing. “You’ll see.”

“Dogs shouldn’t have human names,” her husband pipes up, reaching for Johnny.

“No, wait—”

Johnny snaps just shy of his fingers and puts himself bodily between you two.

“Easy!” you yelp, hooking your hand in his collar. “Sorry, I meant to warn you - Johnny’s shy with men.”

“He almost took my bloody hand off!”

“He’s just protective. Johnny, heel.”

He stops snarling, but plants himself at your feet right there, eyes sharply trained on your brother in law. Your sister snorts.

“How are you supposed to get men back here, then?”

You jump as Johnny barks, a full deep one that your rarely ever hear. Your sister startles too, then scowls.

“I don’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “Anyway, let me just get the sheets for the spare room and we can call it a night.”

Johnny stays close at your heels the entire time, though you swear he throws a nasty glance back at your sister’s husband.

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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strawmaerry · 9 months

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gojo & megumi. | g. satoru

gojo satoru bringing home fushiguro megumi was something you did not anticipate of.

you were cooking a welcome home food for your menace, satoru, when he startled you with his teleportation and a frowning kid.

“hello to my prettiest girl, the love of my life, the light in the dar—”

you shushed him. “i thought you work as a sorcerer, never thought you would take kidnapping as a part time job.”

he pouted. he had the audacity to be offended. “excuse me?! how dare you accuse me of such blasphemous claim?”

you shrugged, used to his outrageous reactions. “well, you’re definitely the type of man that my mom warned me about. those guys who would entice you with candies just to get in a van?” you looked at him, up and down, “yup, that’s you.”

before he could answer, you heard a snicker from the kid. your lips slightly curled up before raising an eyebrow at your irritating (affectionately) boyfriend.

“oh,” he stupidly realized, “this is megumi, i’ve bought him from an auction.”

megumi kicked satoru’s shin and he pretended to be hurt. the spiky-haired boy dusted off the invisible particles on his clothes.

you snorted before going back to cooking dinner.

“so, tell me why you decided to change career that involves kidnapping children?”

“well, i wanted to practice on how to take care of a child when we decided to have one.”

you accidentally put your hand over the burning stove and satoru practically flies to you. he basically becomes a mother hen as he blows your hands.

“[name]! oh my god, what happened?”

you go to the sink to wash your hands as you blankly stare at your burning hands. oh man, you think your hearing is deteriorating. you’re hearing some things that are… impossible.

“satoru, you’re not funny.”

satoru, who has the most alabaster skin, pales. he’s hearing his government name. not ‘toru, baby, pretty boy, my husband.

“haha, pretty baby, what do you mean? i’m always funny. ha. ha.”

“don’t kid around like that. you know our job is…” you trail off, unable to continue the sentiment.

in a world where you attend more funerals than birthdays; you greet more corpse than people; having to work under those ungrateful elders, tomorrow is uncertainty, so you try to enjoy the present as much as you’re alive.

he seems confused for a moment before a dawning realization etches on his face. his eyes soften before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i really wanna see you carry my babies, y’know? wanna see you round and full an—okay! i know we’re still not finish in school but whenever i see my future, i see you in it. i see us together. i see us forever and i want that. i don’t want to live in a life without your presence. you brought me so much joy if you weren’t crying right now, i would be on my knees begging for you to take me. make me your one and only. make me the happiest and luckiest man on earth because that’s my only purpose why i was born in this cruel, yet beautiful world. i live for you.”

tears run down on your cheeks as you hear satoru’s honest thoughts about his joke. oh my god, how did a simple joke turn into an almost-but-not-quite proposal?

you cradle his face between your hands and kiss his sweet, soft lips that utter nothing but devotion to you. you feel him smile against yours.

#[🌷]—美.#守りたい #satoru 🫶#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #self indulgence time

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dreamermonica · 8 months

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—gender neutral reader, teen gojo x reader hence the preferred use of glasses, established relationship, slight cursing, just a fluffy scenario i had to post with my crippling gojo brainrot before i hibernate once again

“ah.” GOJO says flatly out of nowhere. “my head's starting to hurt.”

you subtly glance at him from the reflection of the opposing side of the train's tinted windows, watching the way he removes his glasses and rubs at his eyes. you inwardly sigh.

“i can't tell if you're being serious or you just want attention.”

gojo gasps dramatically from beside you, “why would i lie about something like that?”

“can you really blame me for being distrusting?” you say blankly, giving him and and his offended face the stink eye, “especially with the amount of times you've whined out to me like some child who wants to get uppies from his mother?”

you silently relish in the way he stays silent, pouting at you whilst a victorious grin rests on your lips, your gaze returning back to the novel in your hands.

“told you so.”

he whines your name in defeat and lays his head against your shoulder, “my head does hurt though...”

the way he said it urges you to think that he is, indeed, not kidding, and most definitely wasn't just seeking attention—voice stripped of any type of cheeriness, coming out hoarse more than anything.

you pursue your lips as your gaze quickly flits to his face, before dropping to the sunglasses situated on his lap, folded neatly as his eyes are closed shut.

right. the object reminds you of what is probably causing him the headache. six eyes.

your heart nearly cracks at the small grimace on his expression, jaw clenched as his arms are crossed, head still leaning against your shoulder as he focuses on heaving steady breaths. you immediately feel bad now. terrible. horrid.

“toru,” you say, alarmed, slightly panicking as you drop your novel onto your lap, hand situating themselves on both sides of his face as his eyes still remain shut. “i thought you said the glasses helped?”

“they do,” he croaks out, the grimace slowly disappearing as he takes in the warmth of your palms, “but they don't just block out everything, you know.”

“did you overuse your eyes again?” you're ready to scold him, he can tell from the way your tone is slowly turning into one of a nagging mother hen. “this is why you should use blindfolds.”

he only breathes a noise of contentment when you start rubbing circles on his temples, practically melting in your hold.

“well—to be fair,” he starts, one eye opening, and sarcasm still evidently present even with a headache, “we were up against a pretty tricky special grade earlier. i may be the strongest, but that doesn't mean i should let my guard down. you told me that yourself.”

you hold back the urge to roll your eyes, instead staring at him unamused. you caress his cheek gently, “close your eyes, idiot.”

your annoying boyfriend deliberately opens both as if to spite you, cheekily smiling as he stares back at you, “i can still see cursed energy even if i do, babe.”

you still aren't impressed. he chuckles at your expression.

“plus, my headache disappears faster when i see pretty girls.”

“oh, fuck off,” you angrily pinch his cheeks in response as he yelps out in pain, before opting to cover his eyes with one of your hands instead. you feel his eyelashes as he blinks in confusion at the gesture.

“does this help?”

“not really. i can still see cursed energy.”

“oh.” you move to remove your hand, “my bad—”

what you don't expect next is that he keeps your hand in place above his eyes with his own, feeling your knuckles under his palm as he moves to rest his head against your shoulder once more, his eyes still covered by your palm.

“i thought it didn't help?”

“it doesn't but i like you touching me.”

you blink, clearly weirded out by the way he worded that.

“...seriously?”

“yeah, darling. now, as much as i like your voice—i really want to sleep right now, so be quiet before i kiss you stupid right here in public.”

you immediately and effectively shut up at that, hearing an awkward cough from the man sitting across from you. you send him an apologetic look, before glaring at gojo, who's now snoozing his way to wonderland.

you have an inkling that he probably won't be wearing blindfolds anytime soon. especially with how he's grinning like a madman even in his sleep with your hand over his eyes.

you sigh—noting to bring a blindfold each time you go out with the man from now on, not wanting a sore arm everytime you take the train home. you can already picture him pouting in response.

“the child that you are, gojo satoru,” you murmur whilst leaning against his head, pressing a chaste kiss to his temple.

“...you're lucky i love you.”

extra:

donning his sunglasses as he exits the train, he cheerily says, “that was the best nap of my life!”

his headache is gone, which is a relief—but unfortunately, yours is still standing right in front of you.

you clutch your numb arm—already feeling the soreness that'll come after shortly.

“i take it back. i hate you.”

“aw, love you too, bae.”

Zzzz...

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk scenarios #jujutsu kaisen x reader #har��fiction

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alltimefail-sims · 2 months

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Idk if others have already posted about this, but The Henford Hen on Twitter has created a petition asking the Sims team to collaborate with black cc creators to implement makeup that is compatible and functional with darker skin tones. As we all know, a lot of the makeup we currently have is not compatible with darker skintones, even with the implementation of sliders. They've been working with cc creators more frequently, so this is definitely a doable request from the community.

Here's the original tweet:

You can click here to sign the Petition. Please feel free to reblog this!

#the sims community #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #thehenfordhen #ts4 petition #boost

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ceilidho · 4 months

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prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 1. tags: dubcon

You duck behind a stack of boxes when you hear Johnny come whistling into the warehouse.

He shouts your name out somewhere off on the other side of the warehouse, voice echoing through the building. You keep absolutely still, fingers clamped around the clipboard that’s pressed close to your chest. Even your breathing slows, open-mouthed so as to keep it almost soundless. It’s strategic. You’ve gotten good at making yourself invisible back here, practically melting into the stack of boxes.

A minute or two goes by with repeated calls of your name, echoing from different parts of the warehouse like Johnny’s making the rounds. Searching for you. He’s probably been looking around the store for ages, with his track record. Someone must have let it slip that you were assigned to inventory today instead of being out on the floor.

You only let out a sigh when it’s been long enough that any reasonable person might have given up on trying to find you in the loading dock.

“Hiding from someone?” a deep voice asks from behind you.

Your gut all but self-ejects. When you turn around, he’s standing there in the same bright blue shirt that you also wear. His is stretched tight across his chest though, like it’s a size too small. You wonder sometimes if it’s on purpose. It’s hard not to let your eyes wander, but by now you’ve trained yourself to keep your eyes level when speaking to Johnny.

“Nope,” you squeak. “Just…you know…counting. Counting boxes and…stacks.”

He laughs, loud enough to make you startle. It’s far too enthusiastic, like you told a particularly funny joke instead of stumbling over your words and you still don’t actually know if he finds you funny or not.

“Cool,” Johnny says, taking a step closer to you. The clipboard doesn’t feel sufficient enough to put any real distance between the two of you. “Thought I could maybe come hang out with ye back here. Dinnae want ye to feel lonely.”

“Nope, not lonely at all. Totally peachy. Actually glad I could catch a break from…everyone.” You take a step back.

He follows you, another step forward. “Aye, dinnae worry, I get what ye mean. Some of the others—” he whistles, “—right buggers. Glad to catch a break myself as well.”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be…out in the front? I, uh, don’t want you to get in trouble with Jeff—”

“Ah, Jeff’s fine, kitty, dinnae worry about me,” Johnny coos, sounding pleased as punch. He takes you at face value instead of reading into the set of your jaw and the way you keep inching away from him as he gets closer to you, convinced that you genuinely in your heart care about whether he gets written up or not. “They fuckin’ love me, ye ken? Think he wants ta take me out for lunch tomorrow, but told him I’d only go if he invited ye as well.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” you whisper instead of screaming. You’re doing that a lot these days. Talking through the scream bubbling behind your front teeth.

“Would ye want ta then?” he asks, suddenly in your face, three quick steps bridging the gap between you in barely a second, hardly enough time for you to blink. You blink and it’s just Johnny, in startling definition. Thick eyebrows and scar across his chin, the bridge of his nose perfect like he’s never broken it before. “Grab some lunch with me?”

“I, uh…I brought my lunch from home.”

“It’s a’right, I’ll buy it for ye, hen. Dinnae need ta waste your money.” Sometimes when he talks to you, he gets like this, fervent and almost desperate. He seems only half aware of it. “Ye like that mediterranean place nearby, right? Seen ye go there once or twice; wanted ta tag along, but dinnae want ta alarm ye.”

“You saw me go there?” you repeat.

“Aye, happened ta glance out the window when ye were on your lunch break. Back before management changed my break time. Cheers for that as well because it was really startin’ ta bother me, ye ken? Not being able ta eat with my favourite coworker.”

You never know how to respond when Johnny lets on a bit too much about how he feels about you. Sometimes he slips up and it comes rushing out, a big spool of thread unwinding in front of you.

“Yeah, well…I don’t know about today but maybe…” you say, trailing off. There’s a danger in just brushing him off, you feel.

“Tomorrow then,” he decides, grin still splitting his face. “I’m no’ on the schedule, but I can drop by at your lunch break and go with ye. How’s that sound?”

“Well, you know…it sounds…” He’s close enough now that if you lean forward, you’ll faceplant in between his pecs. Despite everything, you have to slightly fight the urge. Sometimes you think it’d be easier if he weren’t so absurdly gorgeous. It doesn’t make any of his actions okay, it doesn’t excuse his behaviour just because he’s pretty, yet still he pulls you in somehow, magnetic. “It sounds—you know, actually, I think Jeff wanted to talk to me about something, so if you don’t mind—”

Johnny tries to say something, but you manage to duck around him and scurry off, disappearing into the stacks of boxes before pressing forward until you burst out the main doors out of the warehouse. It leads to a hall that goes towards the store, but you haul it to the women’s washroom instead. The one place he can’t follow you inside.

In the washroom, you can finally breathe. Resting your hands on either side of the sink, you look into the mirror where haggard eyes with deep circles underneath stare back at you.

You flinch when one of the toilets flush and the stall door opens, another coworker stepping out.

“Did I hear Johnny outside?” she asks, taking the sink beside you to wash her hands. You nod, still tongue tied. “He really follows you everywhere, huh?”

For a second, your shoulders relax. “God, I know, he’s always just hovering—”

She cuts you off, sighing dreamily. “You’re so lucky. He’s so hot, it’s unreal. I can’t believe he works here, like that’s insane. I’d kill to have him as obsessed with me as he is with you.”

“He’s—he’s not into me, he’s just…you know, he just hovers.”

The water shuts off. Your coworker shoots you a dubious look, almost mocking. “Yeah, alright. Sure. Not into you. Not like he hangs off your every word. You don’t have to be humble—we’re already jealous. It’s like rubbing it in when you pretend like it’s totally normal.”

You slump, defeated, when she leaves without drying her hands. It’s moot to try and commiserate with anyone. They don’t see him the way you do, not for who he is. Your coworkers love Johnny; you’ve seen someone genuinely fistpump after being scheduled with him.

They don’t see any of the weird shit though. They don’t see the way he insists on walking you to your car well into the evening after a closing shift together. They don’t notice the way Johnny laughs a little too hard and with too much vigour when someone calls him your shadow, his eyes just a little too bright and fervent.

They’re never around to see him ask if you want to sit on his lap while he shows you how to use the forklift in the backroom. They’ve never seen him beg management to let him take his breaks with you and doesn't let you have a moment of peace, just sits with you in the breakroom or follows you to your car when you say that you're going out for lunch.

Sometimes you look at him and think, this guy should not be in the Appliance section of a big box store. Johnny should be on the front cover of magazines, in commercials for toothpaste, acting in Hallmark movies, or maybe hand modelling for obscenely ornate watch companies that cost the equivalent of a mortgage—not handing out free samples of sliced cheese.

That was then.

It starts like this: an overeager sales associate who butts his way to the front of the line on your first day.

You think at first that you’re golden. It seems like a sweet deal—an easy enough job, maybe not what you went to school for, but still something to pass the time and not too backbreaking. Plus, the guy shaking your hand and chatting up a storm in front of you is making you melt inside. He’s easy on the eyes—all bright smiles, effortless charm, either just brushing or exactly six feet, and built. Broad shouldered and lean.

Johnny’s a model employee as well—knows the handbook inside and out, and shows you the ropes on your first day along with the assistant manager giving you a tour of the store, which is helpful because there’s at least three floors that you could easily get lost on. He walks elderly customers to their cars with their bags, shows up to work early for every shift, always with a smile and a positive attitude, and you find out early on that management loves him because of his frankly incredible sales record.

(And you get it too; you can’t imagine anyone looking into those gorgeous blue eyes and turning him down.)

He's also a spokesperson for the company in all of their internal training videos because he was hired through some “Jobs for Vets” program that they just rolled out. The guy can also stack things on a shelf like no one's business, products lined up with military precision (hence the ex-military status).

All in all, you can’t help feeling like for once in your life, you didn’t draw the short stick.

Then one day, you’re alone with Johnny in the breakroom early in the morning before the store has opened yet and he turns to you with a wide, boyish grin and says apropos of nothing, “Named my fleshlight after you.”

You think your brain skips a couple tracks like a record player. You rewind and replay what was just said to you. There’s no two ways about it—you must have misheard him. Of course you did because surely your coworker of two months didn’t just look you in the eyes and say with a sweet sunshine smile that he named his sex toy after you.

He doesn’t laugh, just stands there and smiles while stirring sugar into his coffee. He takes it black. You take note of that because the brain still has to work when the mind shuts down momentarily, so you use it instead to catalogue things around the breakroom. One of the motivational posters hanging near the door is hung a bit off-centre. The fluorescent lightbulb on the far side of the room is dimmer than the others. Johnny’s eyes have a little light spot in them like the tip of an ocean wave.

“Excuse me?” you ask, dumbfounded. Your voice sounds hollow even to you.

“I named her after ye,” he repeats, not a trace of shame in his voice. “Used ta not have a name at all, but figured since I say it so much when I’m enjoyin’ her, she might as well share it with ya.”

He stares at you after saying that, letting it hang in the air. Your brain chooses that moment to come back online and all it can do is load that image of Johnny home alone with his fleshlight, toes curled in his sheets and the muscles of his legs straining as he moans your name. All you can do is give a little awkward laugh, growing more uncomfortable by the second the longer he stares at you without blinking.

Then, something passes over his eyes and suddenly he's back to normal, laughing and clapping you on the arm before wandering off to the men's apparel section.

It leaves you reeling for the rest of the day, sure you imagined it. It recontextualizes a few things for you though. He’s always been on the handsy side, verging on inappropriate, but skirting just enough around the edges of it that you usually brush off Johnny’s weird behaviour. Chalk it up to annoying little brotherly tendencies. You know he has a few older sisters anyway; you figured it was just how he related to women in his environment.

Not so.

It escalates after that initial escalation. Not that things started off on an appropriate note, but at least before you could rationalize most of his quirks.

Now it’s this: his hand on your lower back during work hours when you’re busy helping a customer and he sidles up next to you, pinkie brushing so low on your back that you worry for a second that he might slip it down the back of your pants. Lifting you up by the hips whenever you have a hard time reaching something on a shelf instead of just reaching up and grabbing it for you. A complete misuse of his height. He digs his fingers into your sides and never lets you go right away when he puts you down.

“Aw shit, bonnie,” he coos when you complain about it hurting you. “Dinnae mean ta hurt ye. Want me to give ye a little massage in the breakroom?”

You learn quickly that there’s no point in complaining about his behaviour to anyone. You can't complain to any of your coworkers because the second you so much as criticize his work, they bark at you to be nice to him. He's just re-acclimating to civilian life, of course he's not perfect at his job yet, they say. They defend him almost viciously; the real jealous ones even tell on you in front of him, leaving you to stand there embarrassed and on the spot until Johnny just smiles and says that it's alright. That you'll just have to teach him better.

There’s not much you can do besides grin and bear it. You can hope one day that you'll get transferred; you don't have much hope for him being transferred. Not with how endeared he is to management.

When you finally open the door, ready to leave the bathroom and get back to work, you nearly scream when Johnny lurches off the wall across from the bathroom door where he’s been leaning. Waiting for you.

“C’mon, hen,” he says, all teeth. “Lemme walk ye back ta work.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap #john mactavish #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #soap cod

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xumoonhao · 1 year

Text

it really is so weird when ppl say idols don’t necessarily need to be good at singing or dancing or rapping or have stage presence. like bestie you just mean models.

#not that im dating that models can’t be talented in these areas!!! i just mean ppl equating being an idol with just being somebody pretty is #really getting to be unreasonable. they need to at LEAST have one (1) quality of some kind of musicality. they don’t even need two skills if #they just do one really well. not every idol can be an all rounder but my god. some 4th hen idols are only in groups bc of their looks #and i know that EVERY music industry is like this but kpop is definitely one of the biggest industries #🎆.txt

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dilemmaontwolegs · 5 months

Note

Is setting him free a one shot?? cuz I need more bestie😭

Meant To Be || LN4

Follow up to: Setting Him Free || Meant To Be || Yours, Always Summary: If you love someone, set them free; if they come back to you, it was meant to be.

Lando tracked your life through the lens of your camera and what you uploaded to Instagram. He remembered seeing the toll the journey took, sporadic pictures taken between stopovers where you smiled but it never quite reached your eyes. It took you nearly 40 hours to reach your destination and he waited with bated breath for you to finally post that you had safely arrived.

Lando remembered the first time he saw you tagged in a photo with a stranger, his arm curled around your waist while you laughed happily with no regard to his heart that you still owned completely. It had only been six weeks since you left, yet you were happy in another man’s arms while he still hugged your pillow.

Lando had fallen into a rabbit hole of despair that night until Max came home and turned into a detective and searched for the stranger, finding every social media profile he had.

With a triumphant shout, Max ran into Lando’s room with his laptop and pulled the blankets off his friend’s head. “He’s gay!”

Hope fluttered in his chest as he sat up and snatched the laptop. His eyes scanned the photos and the captions of a man most definitely in love with another man and not you. “He’s gay? Fucking yes, mate! Thank you,” he gushed as he clutched his chest where his heart had started beating erratically at the news.

“Now you can get out of bed and stop moping,” Max stated as he tore the rest of the blankets away and opened the curtains. Lando curled onto his side away from the blinding light with a groan but Max was there, grabbing his ankle and dragging him off the bed. “Come on, you lump of sod, we’re going karting. But, honestly, you need a shower, bro, you stink.”

For a few months Lando found a new contentment with life. He trained, he raced, he hung out with his friends. But every time there was a lull of activity he found himself gravitating back to you.

“Max, give me her number,” Lando ordered as he busted into the guest room his friend had moved into when you moved out. He had wanted to keep an eye on Lando and Lando, though initially annoyed at being babied, had come to enjoy having the company.

Max groaned as he saw the time on the clock and wondered why Lando was awake at 3am. “It’s for emergencies. You’re meant to be keeping a distance, mate.”

The weather alerts set up on Lando’s phone had woken him before he darted down the hall to Max’s room.

“This is an emergency,” he rushed, clambering over the bed, kneeing Max in the process, and grabbed his phone off the charger. “There’s a fucking tropical cyclone.”

Max stopped fighting for his phone with a defeated sigh and fell back onto his pillow. “Say hi from me.”

Lando gave an affirmative grunt as he left, the call already starting the dial tone before he reached his room and shut the door.

Your phone had been going off with your family sending worried messages as soon as they heard about the cyclone headed your way. You thought you had finally got them to relax when a call came through, but it was Lando’s contact that appeared.

“Hey, Lan,” you greeted softly after committing to answer the call. “Are you okay?”

“That’s what I was going to ask,” he replied with a gravelly voice, reminding you it was early in the morning where he was. And he was not a morning person at the best of times. “I saw the news.”

“You’re a mother hen, you know.”

He chuckled as it wasn’t the first time you called him that when he worried about you. “I know, only because I have someone to remind me.”

“You really don’t need to worry,” you assured him, though the afternoon skies were much darker than normal as the storm quickly approached. “The locals are used to this and if they’re not concerned then I think it’ll be fine. You know how the news is, they dramatise everything.”

“You’re sure? Do you have supplies just in case power goes out? I can order whatever you need-”

“Lando, stop,” you chided him gently. “You don’t have to buy anything.”

You could imagine him pacing in his room, dodging the mess of clothes on the floor and a half unpacked suitcase from his last trip. You were always the organised one, the one who kept the house tidy while he was busy with work.

“I want to. I want to know you have everything you need, that you are being taken care of. You did that for me for so long, I want to return the favour.”

You rubbed your temples as you tried not to fall back into the place you had been six months ago. But it was hard not to miss him with every fibre of your being when he was the sweetest man you had ever known. “Even if I wanted you to, it’s impossible. They don’t exactly have online shopping on the island.” You giggled at the sound of disbelief that came through the phone. “Our supplies come by boat from the mainland.”

“And that’s your idea of fun?”

“I like the work we do here,” you said with a smile. “Need I remind you that some people like to go vroom vroom around in circles.”

“Har-har.” You could practically hear his eyes rolling around in his head before you heard the shuffle of his sheets as he climbed into bed. “We’re halfway there.”

“You’re not meant to be counting the days,” you reminded him, as though you didn’t have the days marked off on the calendar in your office.

“I tried not to.”

The wind started to pick up, brushing the hibiscus plant against your window with an incessant scraping noise. Then came the pitter-patter of the first drops of rain on the tin roof.

“Me too.” On the other side of the island lightning forked from the gathering clouds and a few seconds later the boom rattled the house. “I should probably go, you should be asleep.”

“Wait,” Lando shouted in your ear. “Just wait, please.”

You knew the delay was only going to make goodbye harder and your throat was already clogging with emotion. “I need to save my battery, Lan.”

“I know, I know.” He sighed and the sound lassoed your heart, slowly choking it as the seconds dragged on. “I just, I want you to know that I love you and I know that in another six months that’s still not going to change. Or a year, or however long it takes for you to do what you need to do.”

“Lan…”

“You don’t have to say it, I know it’s hard.”

“Lan-”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Would you shut up for one second,” you laughed as he rambled on. “I love you too.”

“Please stay safe.”

“I will, but you know it’s cyclone season here. They will be coming every couple of weeks.”

“Then I’ll call you for every single one,” he promised. “Gotta make sure my girl is okay.”

You laughed at his tenacity but quietly revelled in his words. “Good night, Lando, I’m glad you called.”

“I wish I called sooner.”

Click here for the final part.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

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could you do hc’s for the 141 + könig with a reader who has iron deficiency anemia? like maybe readers iron drops to a low level and they nearly faint and they take care of them after?

Ooh! I can relate! Except I haven’t fainted but I’ve definitely gotten close lmao whoops

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

My man has both eyes on you at all times, especially if you’ve told him you woke up with a headache that morning

He’s watching you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself but when advil doesn’t touch your headache, he starts to worry

I personally headcanon him as being hands off but always close, so he won’t be fretting about you, he gives you the space and the chance to decide when you need help

But when you start walking a little lopsided, with a hand against the wall for support, he’s sprinting towards you, his heart is hammering in his chest as he catches you before you lean a little too far off to the side

“Alright, back to bed with you.”

“Si, I’m fine.”

“I look like I’m muckin’ about? Bed. Now.”

It’s one of the few times he’ll assert himself when it comes to your well-being, not his fault you gave him a fright, darling!

Soon enough, he’s back at your side with a sandwich and some juice, he’s not sure what happened but some food is a good place to start, he crawls in bed next to you as your eating and turns on the tv to whatever you’re feeling (he’s particularly fond of Bake Off, so he won’t be opposed if that’s what you choose)

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

When you woke up that morning massaging your temples, he was a little worried but he shooed your hands away and started massaging your temples and your scalp instead, kissing the side of your head

It seemed to help a little bit but it wasn’t enough to chase the thrumming pain away, still it wasn’t that bad so you decided to go about your day regardless

That wouldn’t stop him from checking up on you every chance he had, he’d laugh when you elbow him and jokingly tell him to back off, he’d pull you against him and kiss the crown of your head

“Not on your life, bonnie.”

But then he saw you tumble to the side a little bit, arm reaching out to balance yourself and he was at your side in a heartbeat, steadying you by wrapping his arm around your shoulders and holding you against him,

“Alright, hen?”

“Yeah just a little dizzy that’s all.”

“More than just a little I’d say. Come on, let’s get you in bed and I’ll get you some food, aye?”

“But it’ll mess up the bed.”

“Then don’t be messy.” He winked and kissed the side of your head, you shoved him playfully before clinging to him again. Sure enough, you’re back in bed with Soap, half eaten sandwich on the nightstand, both of you back asleep with the tv lulling you even deeper.

John Price:

Sweet man doesn’t let you leave the bed for anything as soon as you tell him you have a headache

“Don’t bother liftin’ a finger, darlin’. Shout if you need anything.” He kisses your forehead and leaves a glass of water, a cup of tea, and some headache medicine, he’s in the other room if you need anything

At some point, you get bored and decide to do some chores you’ve been putting off for a while, so you’re folding laundry when John walks back in the room

“What’re you doin’, thought I told you to shout.”

“I’m not gonna shout at you put away the laundry, especially when I’m the one that started it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you know I love it when you shout.” He teased, you threw the tshirt in your hands at him with a laugh and a blush, he caught it with ease and started to move to put it away

He saw you take an unsteady step back with an arm outreached to balance you out, in two long strides he was at your side, gripping your arm to steady you

“Right. Enough of that, back you go.”

“John-”

“Don’t you ‘John’ me, back in.” He’s guiding you back in bed and coming back in the room with some fruits and a sandwich, he’s not leaving your side until you’ve eaten all of it. And when you’re done, he kisses your forehead and crawls in bed with you. Nothing wrong with a lazy day.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He’s so extra omg as soon as you tell him you’ve got a headache, he’s wrapping you in your favorite blanket, brewing a cup of your favorite tea, he’s got you sitting on the couch, buried in blankets, and he’s got Uber Eats pulled up and ready for you to order

“Babe it’s just a headache, I’m not dying.”

“Irrelevant. Just order something, yeah? My treat.” He winked at you. You share a checking account. He loves making that joke. (So do I)

He walks away and comes back with your tea and some medicine, “No love of mine is going to have a headache and not be spoiled.”

On your way back from the bathroom, you start the feel the walls spin and the floor slip away from you. You called out to him and he was there in a heartbeat, he gently and slowly picked you up and carried you back to the couch

“Aren’t you glad you’ve got me here for you?”

“Don’t get an ego, just shut up and keep taking care of me.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He kissed your cheek with a big wet smooch and went to grab the door for your order, he settled next to you on the sofa and started laying out the food for you.

König:

Much like Ghost, he lets you get up and be about on your own but he hovers much closer

He gets you some medicine and some water, and he brings you those fruit gummies you love so much too

He’s ok with you moving about but he’s always close by, and by close I mean he’s attached at the hip (just bump him away with your hip and he’ll laugh enough to let you be for a little bit)

In one of those moments you managed to successfully bump him away from you, your dizziness seemed to hit. You nearly dropped the dishes in your hands as you took a few steps to the side, König was there in seconds to get you steady again

He took the dishes from your hands and gently put them in the sink,

“Come now, schatz, rest, please.”

“Köni, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Nonsense. Bed. Now.”

He never used that tone with you (ok maybe sometimes but this isn’t that context), so you supposed you wouldn’t fight him on it. Not that you could but you appreciated that he gave you the option.

So he carried you to bed, your gentle, sweet, mountain of a man, and set you down, burying you in blankets. He crawled beside you and started running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, peppering kisses on your cheeks.

Before you knew it, you’ve dozed off in his arms and he’s kissing the crown of your head.

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flamingpudding · 4 months

Text

Cassiopea and Orion #2

Previous Part

A/N: I probably shouldn't be thinking up so many different story lines. But my mind won't let me focuse on something else in peace unless I write these snippets and parts out. So here have another part XD I still have a whole Danny and Bruce backstory conversation in my head that I will probably write out at some point too.

"Really B, another one?" A red helmet wearing guy huffed the moment he spotted her, the little black haired blue eyed girl, sitting on a railing by a huge computer set up Ellie was sure Uncle Tuck would have drooled over.

She blinked at the new arrival before her eyes went over to the man. The one she had told that Phantom lost his haunt. When she had spoken these words the air around the man had changed. Before Ellie even really knew what was happening, the man had turned away from her, talking to the still tense boy before whisking the both of them away to a cave. The place she was now, and one after another more and more of the weirdly dressed people showed up. Each of them appeared to feel the need to comment on something, Ellie heavily believed to be an inside joke.

She let her eyes wander over all the arrivals, her fingers nervously drumming on the metal of the railing she was sitting on. Watching them carefully, despite what Danny had told her, she would bold at the first sight of danger from them. They didn't appear to have any ecto-weapons but that could be false impression. Like the GIW. They had appeared so incompetent only to do a 180 decades later.

"So what is going on? Is B printing adoption papers already?" The red and black one appeared to joke and Ellie tilted her head. There definitely was a insider joke she was not aware of. It would be weird to ask them about it wouldn't it? It would also be rude and tactless. Danny and Aunt Jazz had tried to teach her to not always blurt out every question that pops up in her head. Key words, not always.

"Why would the furry need adoption papers?"

She blinked at how a couple of the people broke out laughing while the kid, who had been watching her like a hawk, was now full on shooting daggers at her. She was pretty sure the kid would have thrown a literal one at her, but something as keeping them from doing so. She heard a grunt, and her eyes went back to the man that had brought her here.

"Not necessary." The man muttered as he turned to face them, clicking a key on the keyboard of the computer, and Ellie blinked as an image of Phantom popped up on screen. The people laughing appeared to quiet down now. "She already has a father."

"Mom." Ellie automatically corrected, shrugging when they looked at her. Before everything had gone to shits and Danny's capture, he had become quiet the mother hen, especially with Dan's and her de-aging. The constant mothering and worry about their well-being had caused Dan to joke that Danny was acting like a mother and she had continued to run with that joke. Even after they had to put Dan into a frozen state under Frostbites care in Far Frozen. The two had silently agreed on that Danny was their mom. The past didn't matter and she would honour their silent sibling agreement.

She didn't elaborate any further and they seemed to get that as they turned back to the man by the computer, putting their attention on that. Though she did noticed that the other kids eyes lingered on her longer.

"This is Phantom. A ghost hero stationed at Amity Park. Code: Rho, one of Cassiopea's dying stars." The man paused, and Ellie swore he had looked at her under his cowl. "And this girl's, Elliza Danielle Phantom Nightingale's, mother. Code: Jupiter, the wandering star."

"How do you know my full name?! Plus, my only recently added ones! They are like only a month old! And what about these weird Codes?" She blurred out wide-eyed, staring at the man in bat costume.

"Even if sparse Phantom and I stayed in contact using these codes." And Ellie narrowed her eyes at him. "Doesn't answer my question."

"Actually, B we would also like to know more." One of the onlookers, that's what Ellie decided they were for now, piped up.

Bat guy grunted, staring them down but not answering. The onlooker in blue sighed but Ellie wasn't giving in. She crossed her arms, keeping her balance by floating slightly on the railing.

"Look, you big bad bee, if you can't tell me that, then how am I supposed to trust you to help me, let alone the rescue of Da- Phantom!"

The onlookers snickered as she held her little staring contest with the big bad bee. Jokes on that guy she had held staring contests with Frighty before and he doesn't even remember how to blink at times.

"Phantom and I correspond about various topics since our teen years." The bat guy finally admitted. "One of which was about... our children."

Ellie blinked several times. Until her eyes widened in realization and she pointed an accusing finger at bat guy. "You're the one that kept calling Danny about parent advice! Like how he got me to go to online school and prevented me from sneaking out or how he handled Dan's anger tantrums!"

"Wait... B went to someone other than Agent A for parent advice?" The red and black onlooker questioned and Ellie shrugged. Danny had always been sort of parenting her since he was 16 and Dan once they learned he was aging lower and then the de-aging happened. She did remember that Danny got his first phone call about parent advice when he was around 24.

Now that Ellie thought about it. That was also around the time he took her aside to tell her about the emergency code.

"Which one of us do you guys think was the cause?"

"Wing."

"Hood."

"Demon Brat."

Ellie blinked once more, her attention turning back to the onlookers as thet started to argue among themselves. She tilted her head, watching them. Looks like she accidentally got them off topic. Though now she really wanted to get the story out of Danny once they rescued him. For years she had caught snippets of Danny's phone calls, to think that the guy on the other end was a armored spandex wearing furry. She couldn't wait to tell Dan about that.

Well, once their mom was saved and her brother stabilized again.

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