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the-modern-typewriter · 6 months

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A villain who doesn't want to harm the hero, is trying to take them down as gently as possible and thinks the hero is the one being crazy about this, while the hero is desperately fighting to protect the world.

Bonus points if the villain is the hero's big sibling or similar figure.

"Father wanted to put you in an institution," their sibling said. "There was no way I was going to allow that." They carded their fingers through the hero's hair, soothing, like they were still five years old and waking up from a bad dream. "Those places are awful. They'd hurt you."

"I can't move."

"It's okay. You're okay."

"The - the tea. You." The realisation of it choked off in the hero's throat. Sharp. Catching. Betrayal.

"I told father I'd handle it," their sibling said, almost absently.

"Handle me."

"Yes." Their sibling ducked to gather up the jagged shards of the fallen mug, depositing them on the coffee table. They met the hero's eyes. "Handle you."

The hero glared. They willed their noodled limbs to move, but all they got for their efforts was nearly crumpling to the floor again. Their sibling caught them, steadied them, pushed them back into the chair. The hero's heart thudded wildly beneath their palms.

"He wasn't having it though," their sibling continued. "He told me that you needed to be corrected, by any means necessary. He told me that it was just the place for a crazy person like you. That you'd bring shame on the family." They grimaced. "You know father."

The hero did, unfortunately, know their father.

They also knew their sibling though. They knew they were drugged up in their own living room, not being wrestled into a straight-jacket somewhere for some non-consensual therapy sessions.

"What did you do to him?" it came out raspy.

Their sibling smiled, small and grim. "He should have known better. Just like you should have known better, but you always were a little idiot, so no shockers there."

"...what are you going to do to me?" That was, perhaps, the better question. Their mind still felt sharp, after all, even if nothing in their body wanted to cooperate with them.

"Do you think I'd hurt you?"

"You hurt father."

"Father was a jackass. You're just stupid."

"I'm trying to make the world better!"

"Yeah," their sibling said. "Stupid."

"It's not stupid!"

"I'm not going to debate this with you."

"Just drug my tea!?"

"Eh, that was for your own good. For all his many sins, father wasn't totally wrong. You do need help. A friendly intervention."

"They'll come for me. My friends will come for me."

Their sibling shrugged. "I have no such reservations hurting them."

The hero swallowed. Their mouth still felt dry, sticky and cloyingly sweet. They searched their sibling's face for any sign of a lie. They found none.

"You know what father and his friends are doing is wrong," the hero said after a beat; maybe just frantic to see some glimmer of recognition of that fact.

Their sibling shrugged again, easy. "Sure."

"You could help us fight them. You could come with me. You could...keep me safe. That's what you want, right? To keep me safe."

"Your friends aren't going to kill you. You're perfectly safe like this."

"But what father's friends are doing - don't you - you have to care."

Their sibling raised an eyebrow.

The hero wanted to snarl. As ever, it seemed, their sibling did not have to care about anyone or anything. Who cared about the world if going along with monstrosity was easier?!

"Don't you care that I care?"

"You care about everything," their sibling rolled their eyes. "You held a funeral for the fish."

"He was my pet!"

"He was a fish."

"This is nothing like the fish!"

Their sibling straightened up with a sigh, looking down on them, hands on hips. "I've made my decision."

"Fuck you."

"I don't expect you to be happy about it, but you're gonna deal with it. You're underage. That makes you my responsibility. I'll let you go when this all blows over."

"You mean when father's friends finish wrecking the world?"

"Don't be so overdramatic."

"You drugged me and I'm overdramatic?"

"Overdramatic looks better on me. I have the cheekbones for it."

"This isn't funny!"

"No." Their sibling's voice shifted, abruptly. "It isn't. Do you want me to get serious?"

The hero...paused. The air suddenly felt oppressive.

"I am being very gentle," their sibling said. "And you are infinitely squishy and breakable. Father's institution would have crushed you into teeny tiny pieces, so shattered that you didn't even care anymore. You would kill your friends if they asked, by the time they were done."

The hero swallowed, stricken, horrified.

"Tell me again how unfunny this is," their sibling said. "Like you think I'm stupid."

The hero shook their head.

As swiftly as the storm had come, their sibling offered them a sunny smile. The tension vanished as they booped the hero's nose.

"We're going to get through so many film nights. It's going to be great. Now." They reached for the coffee table. "Have some more tea."

#villains and heroes #heroes and villains #sibling #writing #my writing #writing snippet #villains #heroes #writeblr

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irisintheafterglow · 4 months

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he's the death you chose (you're in terrible danger)

summary: married life with husband!gojo means cleaning up bodies at 2am.

wc: 1k

cw/tags: mentions of violence, blood, and deaths (nothing graphic), mild angst/comfort with happy ending, some swearing, yes this is the albatross coded

note: honestly not sure where this came from! was just listening to ttpd and thought about what being married to gojo realistically would be like (aka always being targeted as his weakness that it becomes routine). hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Wise men once said, “Don’t sleep with your windows open,” and you should have listened to them. If you had, there wouldn’t be three dead mercenaries in your living room, and another somewhere in your kitchen. There were five, originally, but you figured the last one was being hunted down a hallway as he tried to escape your building. The blood-spotted microwave’s clock reads 2:08 when you glance at it to grab cleaning supplies from the cupboard. 2:10 is when Satoru re-enters the apartment and kicks off his shoes.

“I called Ijichi; he’s sending over cleaners right now,” he says, carefully stepping around the blood and curse guts splattered on the floorboards. Stray drops of who knows what speckle the photos on the bookshelf and he wipes them with his sleeve, scowling. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“Yeah, there’d probably be less of a mess,” you admit, wiping down the kitchen island and guiding the crumbs and dust into the trash. “But they’d still be dead, so I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end.”

“You handled yourself pretty well for being out of the country for a few months,” he adds appreciatively, retrieving the carpet cleaner from under the sink and sprinkling it onto the living room floor. “I still think it’d be better if you lived on-campus, though.” He squints in the pale moonlight at the pile of abrasive powder and decides to dump a little bit more for good measure.

“I know–Hey, what’d I tell you about wasting the carpet cleaner? A little goes a long way, remember?” Satoru sets the tube down and puts his hands up in surrender, reaching back and tightening his blindfold before he approaches you in the kitchen. “I can hear your thoughts as they make their way to your mouth, dear.”

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say–”

“Don’t ask what you’re about to ask, then, if you already know the answer,” you interject with that lightning-quick wit he adored so much. You move to grab the broom from next to the fridge, but he gently catches your wrist and turns you to face him.

“You’d be safer there,” he continues and you pull your lips into a tight line.

“Only place I’m safe is wherever I'm with you, realistically.” You had a point. In any other circumstance, the sentiment would be sweet if it wasn’t horribly true. You’d heard time and time again from Satoru how he stared restlessly at the ceiling, anxious about what danger might be coming wherever you were. He theorizes that the higher-ups promoted you to spite him, to have you travel even more often than he was and visit more places across the globe than any seasoned sorcerer would be comfortable with. Phone calls weren’t enough to verify that you were safe; he had to see you, feel you, know you were alive. “This is, what, the second time this month? The first time was when I came back from Paris, right?”

“I don’t think that was this month. It might’ve been the last week of the month prior. Monaco, maybe?”

“Eh, same thing. They always come after me when I get back from Europe. You think they’re trying to catch me off guard or something?”

“I don’t know if we can predict a schedule with these guys, babe,” he grimaces. As much as he liked that you were making light of the situation, the churning in his gut about what could have happened if he didn’t come was too painful to ignore. “Your dad would kill me if he saw how much danger I put you in.”

“It’s a step up than sneaking me out of the third story of the house, I’ll admit,” you tease. How you could still find humor in times like these, he could never fathom. It’d taken months to convince your father to let Satoru court you, let alone marry you. To your family, he was an impediment, an obstacle, and, unfortunately, the love of your life. “Maybe even as bad as the food poisoning you got from that one place in Sendai.”

“I don’t think ‘in sickness and in health’ is supposed to apply to attempted assassinations. Food poisoning and sprained ankles, sure, but that other one toes the line a little too much.” The frequency of your life in danger was why he wanted you to live full-time on one of the Jujutsu Tech campuses and become a teacher, like him. Sure, a selfish part of him wanted you closer all the time, but he’d pick your safety over your proximity any day.

“How far are the cleaners?” You yawn, washing your hands at the sink and scanning for everything in your home that needs to be wiped or scrubbed.

“Ten minutes, tops. I can wait for them if you wanna go back to bed.” He knew you weren’t going to take him up on his offer. You were never able to sleep properly after attempts like this unless he was in the same room. “Though I know you won’t.”

“Isn’t it a little fucked up that we know how the rest of these nights usually go?” You chuckle, a soft, airy sound that takes some of the weight off of Satoru’s chest. You were truly sunlight incarnate and he was the darkest, unseen side of the moon.

“I’d say this is all my fault, honestly.” You look at him curiously and he shrugs. “I’m the one who made you fall in love with me, after all.”

“By that logic, I’m also partially to blame,” you point out, flashing him the ring on your left hand. The glow of cursed energy Satoru had embedded into the gemstones glows like Christmas lights in the darkness. The energy was more concentrated than your own body’s natural reserves, allowing him to pinpoint you immediately as long as you were wearing it. Danger and plans A through Z, and everything in between that came with marrying the strongest sorcerer in existence. “I can’t count the number of people who warned me about you.”

“Why didn’t you listen to them?”

“Because they’re not you,” you smile. “If you say that you’ll keep me safe, then I trust you to keep your word.” Sunlight incarnate, he thinks again, and God help anyone who tries to block you from him.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n

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baileypie-writes · 10 months

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Can you please write a veneer x GN!reader where he’s cuddling us? Please have TOOTH ROTTING fluff 🙏🙏🙏 Ty <3

A/N ~ Yeeessss! Tooth rotting fluff coming right up! Hope you enjoy!(also sorry this is pretty short)

~🎤Winding Down🎤~

Veneer x GN!Reader

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Romantic

Synopsis: Veneer has had a busy day. All he wants to do now is to wind down in your arms.

Warnings: Exhaustion(Veneer), tooth-rotting fluff

Veneer was exhausted. It had been a busy day. He and Velvet had put on a big performance. Afterwards, they had an interview, and had to sign over 300 autographs. And of course, he the whole time he had to deal with his sister bossing him around. All of that left him with a tired voice, a headache, and a very sore wrist. So it’s safe to say that all Veneer wanted was to relax. And what better way to relax than to be with his partner?

~~~~

The moment you opened your front door for Veneer, both of his long, spaghetti arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“(Y/NNN)~!”

You let out a strangled “Whoa!”, before closing the door with your foot.

You basically had to pry him off you to look at his face. He looked miserable, a big contrast to how he was currently acting. His makeup was slightly smudged, and his eyes were droopy. “Woah, are you good? You look exhausted.” You asked.

Veneer sighed dramatically. “I am. Gosh today was not my day.”

“Aw, I’m sorry babe. Wanna talk about it?”

“Eh, maybe later.” Without another word, he dragged you into your room by your arm, and basically launched you guys onto your bed. His arms were, once again, wrapped around you. But this time, his legs were too.

You laughed. “You’re not even gonna take your makeup off first?”

“Nope.” Veneer responded, before burying his face into your chest, not caring about his makeup staining your shirt.

“Okay then.” You shifted a little bit to get comfortable. Then, you pulled your arms out of Veneer’s to hug him back. After that, you grabbed your blanket, and covered the both of you.

Veneer soon started to drift off. He was in a state where he wasn’t quite asleep or awake. The only thing he could think about was your warmth and the feeling of you tracing random, nonsensical shapes on his back. He felt himself start to fully fall asleep, but not before hearing you say something you thought he couldn’t.

“Love you, Veneer.”

He smiled, and before slipping into a dreamless slumber, mumbled a response.

“Love you too, (Y/N).”

~~~🎤~~~🎤~~~🎤~~~🎤~~~

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #veneer #veneer x reader #trolls 3 veneer

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guppybibi · 14 days

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Late WIP Wednesday ..

(aaa km not sure if i should finish this, it started off strong but just fell off and now my brain isnt working)

Simon’s home & marriage was his refuge, until it wasn't. He knew something wasn't right when you were coincidentally prepared for his return, all dolled up when you greeted him with an “I miss you” kiss. No, he was sure it wasn't you when he saw that the dinner table was prepared with a generous spread of food on it.

There was no reason for you to come this prepared, everytime he comes home from deployment is a surprise. So..how exactly are you this ready? It didn't sit right with him, the whole thing felt like it came out of a painfully obvious scripted reality TV show.

But food was food and after countless weeks spent eating barely edible MRE’s, a home cooked meal was all he needed. Sluggishly, he sat down at his unsaid designated spot at the dinner table. He closely watched if you would sit down at your designated spot, if you didn't; that’d explained a lot. You do end up sitting at your spot, it wasn't all that hard to do though. Dinner with you was unsettling to say the least, all of the small talk you were making felt forced, it’s barely been an hour and he already feels like he's going crazy.

He knows more than to question you upfront though, having gone through enough interrogations to know that he should take his time and that you could get hostile if things don't go your way. You could be a threat for all he knew, and it's better to be safe than sorry. Unsure if it was the right decision, he starts out some sort of small talk himself, asking you some seemingly innocent questions.

“What were yer up to while I was gone, luv?” He asks mid chew. “Oh not much, I just picked up a new hobby actually. Clay sculpting! I've been watching online tutorials, I could say I’ve been getting the hang of it if I do say so myself.” Liar, was all he could think while he subconsciously nodded to your words. You hated clay, not fond of the texture it had and the way it’d get stuck under your nails. Perhaps it was another one of your impulsive decisions, jumping into conclusions should be the last thing he should be doing. It could cost him more harm than good, so he lets it slide. For now at least.

“Sculpting eh? That's new, have ye finished any?” He pauses, swallowing his food. “I’d love to see them.” A spark lights up in your eyes, but it didn't look right. There's a lit candle in there but it's far, far away. The lack of life in your eyes makes his stomach spin like there's a guinea pig rolling around in their wheel in there, it made him want to puke. He wasn't the biggest fan of prolonged eye contact anyway, so he’ll just avoid looking you in the eye to prevent making a mess. “Oh yeah I actually do! They're already displayed on top of our shelves, I’ll show them to you after.” You exclaim, if that was you anyway, which it wasn't.

Dinner passed at an uncomfortably slow pace, Simon swore he could hear each individual tick and tock of the clock, the scraping of utensils against the porcelain plates and each chew you took. He’s gone through debatably louder things than this, the booms of the explosions were unforgettable after all but this somehow takes the cake. Wanting to distract himself further, he helps with washing the dishes which you normally did but you specifically chose today to help do the other minor chores. Water, that was your weak point. He noticed it, you didn't drink water after dinner either. What kind of monster doesn't drink water to hydrate after eating roasted pork?

To test out this thought of his, he decided to ask another question. “I'm heading to the shower, luv. Care to join me?” Meekly, he suggests to you, deep brown eyes staring intently as he awaited the already expected answer. “Oh I..actually already showered earlier dear. Maybe next time.” A dishearteningly dismissive reply, just like he expected. “Alright, suit yourself luv. I'll be back.”

He thought about it, almost forgetting about the bubbly soap running down his body from how deep in thought he was. There was no doubt about it anymore, everything about you being you, pointed away. At this point, he didn't care what the fake you was anymore, rather where you actually were. You could've been dead for all he knew, replaced by the soulless woman that now roams around his home.

This was beyond cruel, beyond the pain physical torture could've caused. It was like the universe was a cat and he was a yarn ball, being played by it meticulously. The whole thing was definitely planned out by a certain someone he knew, the both of you are fairly private so it couldn't have been a random person. He couldn't handle this alone, as much as he’d hate to admit, the situation was way bigger than him to do alone. So, he decides to call a trusted someone.

“You tellin’ me ye think your wife got abducted or something..and a doppelgänger replaced her?” A gruff voice questions, lightly tapping his cigar against the side of the ashtray. Price, him and Kate are the only members of the Task Force so far that Simon allowed you to meet. Well, it unfortunately looks like the sergeants won't get to meet you under these circumstances just yet. Strangely enough, the clocks inside the pub weren't working. Must be a malfunction. The masked man nodded, sighing through his nose when he got a whiff of the alcohol-filled air in the bar.

“I feel so.” He grumbled. “Couldn't she be just having an off day? We all have those, Simon.” John opposes it, it was an unquestionable possibility they couldn't simply ignore. “No, I know my wife. In my years of being with her, she's never acted this way.” Ghost hissed back, a hint of crystal clear impatience seeping out from his words. The lack of respect in his tone wasn't intended, but what could he do when his wife is apparently kidnapped and replaced so seamlessly? “I guess you have a point, but you need to confirm it Simon. You shouldn't make any decision on impulse, if the woman in your home really isn't your wife then this is a bigger issue.”

Then the plan was set, still a little all over the place but there really wasn't any time to lose. Simon would further observe the woman who's allegedly ‘you’ to make sure he isn't making things up, then if he was incredibly sure it wasn't you, he’ll head to the police and file a report for a missing person. In all honesty, it wasn't hard to do, having gone through missions more intense than this. Yet the fact that you were involved made the bugs inside of him crawl, this was totally his fault.

He didn't hide you away from the world enough, he should've just kept you locked inside a cage like the little birdie you were to avoid any danger coming your way. Simon wasn't stupid though, that was inhumane, you were one of the only few people who has managed to make Simon feel less of a ghost and more of a human. So doing such a thing to you was unethical and out of the books, but how could you blame him for subconsciously letting his possessiveness and worry take over when you're literally so far from his grasp? Being so near before that he could easily grip at the back of your top, now so far that the trace of your scent is long gone.

It makes Simon feel sick, his core being left to rot. He comes from the pub to what felt like an empty house, not home because nothing would feel like home without you there. He’d rather be living in a pile of rocks and plywood with you than in a giant mansion without you, that would be the real hell. “Bloody hell..where are you?” He murmurs under his breath, stressedly rubbing his creased forehead. If he could, he’d pry at every surface that comes up within his sight just to find you.

“I’m back.” He whispers, unsure if the fake you was asleep or not. Anyone, human or not wouldn't be happy being woken up from their slumber. “Welcome home, hun. You alright?” Looking up from your cup of tea, you ask. “Yeah, just spoke with the Captain. That's all, no alcohol.” Simon was so used to you being a worrywart about his alcohol intake, telling you that he didn't have any alcohol is practically ingrained into the wrinkles of his brain. But the woman in front of him didn't seem to care less about his health, let alone him in general. The lack of nagging that usually filled his ears to the brim didn't feel right, he would've much rather gone through another one of your yap sessions about how constant alcohol intake affects him in the long run than..just silence.

He feels the desperation inching up on him, eating him whole. At this point, he's willing to admit he doesn't want you. He needs you. He needs to hear your fretful complaints about him getting deployed, knowing you’d shut up because you were used to it by now. He needs you to tell him to include more vegetables in his diet because he's not some kind of carnivore to be eating that much meat. God, he just needs you with him. Whatever bloody thing came with you he’d take like it was on a stupid Black Friday sale.

“Not yet..” He’d think every single night, eyes wide open as he prevents himself from making a rash decision. The woman sleeping soundly right next to him, if that was you..But it wasn't, even if he stared at the unfamiliar woman for ten hours straight, she wouldn't just magically turn into you. Well sure, she was a carbon copy of you from head to toe but she simply just didn't scream ‘you’. Whatever and whoever you were anyway.

“When all is said and done, I think it'll end well Simon. My gut feeling tells me so, it's rarely ever wrong so I’m pretty sure we should trust it.” You ramble on and on, the little amount of alcohol taking over your lightweight self. Simon was still courting you here, yet he remembers it like it's been replayed in his mind like a broken record. He trusted your gut, and he could consider that as one of the best choices he's ever made in life.

But..trusting you now? While you're probably out, all shivering & teeth clattering from the immense cold night? Impossible, he’s fully aware that you're a capable strong woman however..how far can his trust go? How far do you have to venture into someone’s soul to gain their fragile trust, something that can be easily broken with your own bare hands? Ghost doesn't trust you, but Simon does.

“You're a strong gal, you can hold on for much longer.” He supposes, deep in thought while he flipped around in bed. The fake you hasn't set off any red flags yet, acting normal. Too normal. He knew ‘you’ had a purpose for being here, one with malicious intent, though what exactly? One wouldn't simply come in here and replace his wife with a fake one just out of spite, unless they were a little cuckoo. Tossing aside to check the time, he presses the ‘on’ button on his phone. Weird, the time didn't show up. Maybe it's just a glitch in the system.

“Simon, Hey? Simon, wake up. Hurry, you need to get up.” A voice shakes, lightly nudging him in order to awake him. It's your voice, he can instantly sense its meekness. With one eye and another, they flutter open, still full of sleep in them. “Oh thank goodness, you're awake! But you seriously need to wake up, like right now.” You crooned, hoping he’d fully wake up to the sound of your voice. Groaning, Simon sat up, a few joints popping in the process. “What..? Yeah, I’m awake luv. Whad’ya need me for?” He questions groggily, eyes opening further once he gets a closer look at you. It's actually you, he can tell! The way your eyes meet his, connecting like a bee landing on a precious flower. The way your voice lilted to him like a mother bird nursing her hatchlings, it really was you.

“Wait–luv? You're here? Bloody hell, you actually are–Did you see the other gal who looked just like you? Tell me I’m not losing my shit please.” Then you shushed him, convinced he’ll continuously go on and on if you didn't. “Please listen to me closely, Simon.” You pause, noticing how his eyes bask in yours like it was long overdue. “You need to wake up, hurry.”

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channelinglament · 1 year

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Hello! If you are still open to requests, could you self aware dorm leaders reacting to seeing player holding a baby? (The baby would belong to a friend or sibling and player is just snuggling them for a bit). Up to you if the dorm leaders know that the baby does not belong to player or not. Love your writing!!

💗

It took me so long 💀

Also tysm for requesting this! It was fun to write hehe

Riddle Rosehearts

- *chokes on tea*

- Oh look, you're holding a baby.

- WHOSE BABY????

- Somehow has the "no thoughts, head empty" face despite having A LOT of thoughts.

- He looks normal on the screen, so you won't notice anything btw

- Would wait until he finds out whose baby is that. Once finds out he is calm again.

- Would wonder why are you looking after them, but overall is pretty chill

- Might even blush a bit, imagining how you two in the future could maybe have a family (adopted or birth doesn't matter)

- But until he sees that someone takes away the baby, would fr think it's yours.

- Might even sneak in one or two lines/facts about babies. Basically that he is a great babysitter and etc.

- Would be a bit angry at the parents. You had hard time playing twst because of their baby! Even if you care about this baby, Riddle would still be kinda upset about the fact that your "together" time was interrupted. And all because of some "bad" parents (his words not mine)

"It is their child, why would they make THE OVERSEER look after the said child? Unacceptable, they're bad parents 🙄"

Leona Kingscgolar

- 🧍‍♂️

- Our boy has bluescreened

- Who is this baby? Whose this baby? Why are you with this child?

- As we all know, Leona doesn't like kids (Cheka is the proof)

- I don't think he would think it's yours? I mean, I'm pretty sure you two won't visually look like each other, so Leona would be able to tell that it's not yours

- Tbh would be annoyed that your time was interrupted by the kid

- Might even growl a bit more than usual.

- Would be relieved when parents of said child would take it away. Finally some peace for both of you

-..why does he look grumpier than usual? Uhh, his sprite is normal, as alwayssssss.... It's probably just your eyes ehe 🤷🙇

"Hm? Oh the kid left. Finally some peace and quiet. Now we are finally alone, and I can watch you without anyone interrupting us"

Azul Ashengrotto

- 🧍‍♂️ 2.0

- He is flabbergasted okay?

- Another one who bluescreened.

- After getting out of shock, would wonder whose child is that, until seeing its features.

- Would consider the possibility of it being your adopted child. Doesn't mind taking it under his wing, or should I say tentacle?

- I mean, he has a step father, who took HIM under his "wing", so Azul won't mind that.

- Would blush at the thought of you two starting/being a family.

- Aww, you and the kid are so cute. You're very good at taking care of kids. You're definitely the best.

- After finding out it isn't your child, for some reason feels kinda sad????? He doesn't even know why, just strangely sad????

- Wouldn't mind making one or adopting a kid.

- His sprite seems...happier than usual? He smiles a bit more brightly at the idea of your two's future dw. If you don't have keen eyes/aren't observant, you won't even notice anything!

" Oh darling, our perfect future awaits us soon! I just need to make sure that once you're here, with us, I get to you first. Please don't be mad at me, I'm doing it for the better"

Kalim Al-Asim

- AWWWWWWW

- So cute!

- is it yours? Is it a boy or a girl???

- Another one who would think of your future family.

- This guy over here has TONS of siblings, and he loves them all

- So it's safe to assume that he knows how to play with kids (and maybe even how to take care of them!...maybe) (Kids are pobably on Jamil, Najma or other servants of Asim household).

- Overjoyed tbh

- Thinks the kid looks very cute.

- Ngl was also a bit angry like: Who did you make this child with-? And then he is like: Oh wait you could've adopted them

- However, idea of it being someone else's child never crosses his mind.

- Not until he sees it is being taken away and you talking with it's parents

- His sprite looks completely normal...but Jamil's on the other hand...why does his sprite has a shadow over his eyes..he isn't planning something isn't he?

" Let's create our own family! Huh? Why are you scared? I won't hurt you!....much unless you stop resisting me "

Vil Schoenheit

- Would be shocked a bit.

- Not because you're holding a baby, but because THIS BABY IS MESSING WITH YOUR APPEARANCE *clenches teeth*

- He doesn't care whose baby is that, but this baby is just very messy.

- I mean, if it's yours...it will be alright to make your.. lover? Husband?! Or...no let's not think about it.. fall asleep

- Magic is useful after all

- After finding out that this baby isn't your he is gonna clench his teeth even more/further.

- How dare this people make this child mess with your appearance?

- His sprite looks angry

" This potatoes...rotten potatoes don't know where their place is huh.. Well, it's nothing I can't do. But I will get them later, for now, I will give you a few lines about the importance of your appearance. "

Idia Shroud

- 💀🤷👀🧍‍♂️

- ┬─┬ノ(ಠ_ಠノ)

- *I sleep*

- Doesn't know how to react

- Bluescreens for a second and then...

- *hair turns red*

- WHOSE CHILD IS THIS????

- How dare someone make you look after some child when you could've played with him?? Or if it's your child then who made a kid with you?!!!??

- Is angry. Very

- He is gonna act as if they killed his minecraft cat.

- You're gonna be shocked to see his usually sprite turn red. Heh

- Will turn normal again soon, but would have his angry face on him still.

- Will not turn back to his neutral expression until the family of this child will leave.

" How dare this pests take away our time like this. Ah.. their child is so annoying, The overseer almost dropped their phone because of them ⸨◺_◿⸩ "

Malleus Draconia

- Huh

- The overseer has a child?

- THE OVERSEER HAS A CHILD?

- Chaos endures.

- The whole Diasomnia dorm is on fire, has tsunami and a storm inside.

- All faes are not sure what to do with this information.

- After looking at the child further, got that it wasn't yours.

- Diasomnia is finally calm

-..more like calm before storm

- AH THE OVERSEER IS SUCH A GOOD PERSON! THEY ARE LOOKING OVER RANDOM KIDS!

- You've gained even more affection from the whole Briar Valley/Valley of Thorns now.

- They worshipped and loved you a lot?

- Well, now even more.

- When the child is taken away, they are a bit sad. Fae steal children you know?

- But seeing your calm face they were fine.

- Another one who would think of starting a family with you. I mean, he wants to marry you, and would need a heir..

- And now everyone is sure you would be a great parent. They knew you were perfect, but seeing you being perfect/your perfection in action just pushes their obsession and worship even further

- His sprite looks unusually happy... he literally glows with happiness- wait isn't Azul is the only bioluminescent one?

" Ah, our happily ever after will start soon. I just need to get you here. You are so nice for looking after that child. I knew you were perfect and will be a great parent, but now I am even more sure *chuckles* "

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dira333 · 18 days

Text

To save and be saved - Shouto Todoroki x Reader - Baby Series part 3

part 2

“Oh, you’re hiring help now?” Katsuki drawls from the doorway, one hand in his hip as he examines the office.

“Uncle Tsuki!” Shouji’s on his feet in a heartbeat, racing over. “Uncle Tsuki!”

“Hey Stinker,” he picks the kid up with ease, settling him on his shoulder. “You helping your Pop?”

“Yes!” Shouji exclaims eagerly. “I’m drawing his Logo.”

“Good idea, the old one sucks anyway. You wanna show me what you’ve got so far?”

The boy considers it for a second, sucking in his lower lip before shaking his head.

“Not yet. Wanna finish it first.”

“Good choice. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Gonna talk to your Pop for a second, okay? Ears off!”

“Okay,” Shouji giggles, pretending to shut off his ears when Katsuki lets him down, shuffling over to where he’s got paper and pens spread out.

“Is it taking your kid to work day?” Katsuki asks Shouto, walking closer. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“Sorry,” Shouto pinches the bridge of his nose. “Shouko’s colicky. It’s been a tough week.”

“Ugh, that’s the worst. I’m so glad Kaede is over that. Want me to take Shouji for the weekend? It’s only a small help, I guess, but we like having him around.”

“That’s a nice offer.” Shouto yawns. “I’m going to play it back before giving you an answer, if that’s okay. But surely you’re not here to help me raise my kids and keep my sanity at the same time.”

“No, you’re right. I have the numbers on the new guy. Hitoshi thinks he’ll be able to trap him tonight or tomorrow at least. Thought you might want a piece of it, but I think you better sit this own out.”

“Uncle Toshi?” Shouji asks from his corner, curiosity piqued.

“What did I say about your ears being off?” Katsuki asks, face thunderous.

Shouji giggles and turns back to drawing, not the least bit afraid.

“It’s a shame, really,” Shouto agrees. “But I don’t think it would be a safe choice to join. I’d appoint one of my Sidekicks if we need the numbers. Shatter’s doing exceptionally well.”

Katsuki huffs. “Sidekicks.” For a moment it’s quiet between the two, but then he nods. “Fine, tell her to call me. I’ll give her the details.”

He gets up, pausing for a moment, his hand on the back of his chair as he stares at the wall.

“I’m gonna send some of the guys over,” he finally adds.

Shouto blinks up at him, confusion visible.

“You need a nap. If you can’t ask for help, that’s your bad. Eh, Stinker. You wanna hit up Kirishima?”

“Uncle Jirou?” Shouji’s jumping up and down with excitement. “Can I, Papa?”

Shouto sighs, eyeing the Couch. It does look comfy.

“Sure. But don’t eat any of the sweets Denki keeps in his pockets.”

“Okay,” Shouji grabs a paper and runs over, pushing it onto his Desk.

The Logo he’d been trying to draw has been abandoned in the corner, instead, there’s now a drawing of him, you, and the two kids. Shouji and Shouko are drawn holding hands and he has to fight back tears when Shouji clambers up his lap to press a wet kiss against his cheek.

“See you later Papa. Love you!”

“No way,” Denki leans forward. “You’re making that up.”

“Uhuh,” Shouji shakes his head. “I really dreamed that.”

“A dragon’s so cool. I never dreamed of dragons. I just have boring dreams. Like race cars.”

“Race cars are cool too.”

“Uff, I’m glad.” Denki chuckles, turning to his side. “Babe, did you hear that? I’m cool too.”

“Not you,” Kyoka points out. “Just the race cars.”

“You wound me.”

She snickers before winking at Shouji. “You’re going to come over to visit when the little one is born?” She points at the swell of her belly, flinches at what must be a kick.

“He’s playing soccer right now.”

“He is?” Shouji’s amazed. “I didn’t know there was so much space in there. Shouko never played soccer!”

“Yeah, because our kid’s cool.” Denki boasts before considering it. “Shouko’s cool too though. Maybe she was planning world domination?”

“What’s that mean?” Shouji asks just as Eijirou settles heavily on the chair next to him. “Hey Big Man!”

“Uncle Jirou!” Shouji jumps into his lap with ease, eager to cash in the warm hug this uncle always gives out. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Big Man! You’re growing like a weed, Man. Soon you’re taller than Minoru.”

“Very funny,” Minoru lisps from the other end of the table. “Don’t listen to him, Shouji. You can do great things no matter your height!”

“Sure, Uncle Noru.”

“Is everyone coming by today,” Denki asks at that moment, eyeing the door. “Not like I hate impromptu get-to-gathers, but what’s the occasion?”

“Shouto needed a fiver,” Katsuki harrumphs, stepping over. “And if I just call one of you guys, the rest is gonna be jealous. Don’t lie.”

“I’d never lie,” Tenya points out, two steps behind him. “I thank you for your consideration.”

Shouji doesn’t seem to mind the attention, climbing from one lap to the other, always answering the same questions.

Yes, he’s grown since the last time.

Yes, his little sister is the cutest thing on earth.

Yes, he’s progressing well in his Quirk Training.

“Look!” He shows off to Uncle Shouji - probably one of his favorites because Uncle Shouji always calls him Shouji Number One. “I can make a really big flame and a big icicle at the same time.”

“That’s amazing!” Shouji praises him.

Not soon after though, all the talking and climbing and hugging has tired him out.

“Has anyone seen the kid?” Katsuki asks when he notices his voice missing.

“Over here,” Shouji calls out in a hushed voice, opening up his arms. Shouji’s sleeping soundly in his embrace, sucking on his thumb.

“So cute!” Mina can’t help but comment, clinging to Eijirou. “I want that too.”

“Children are not just cute,” Tenya points out. “They are also a lot of work!”

“I know that,” Mina hisses back. “Spoilsport!”

Tenya opens his mouth to retaliate, closing it with a click though when someone clears their throat pointedly behind them.

“I thought you wanted to hit up Kirishima?” Shouto asks from the doorway, voice carefully calm.

Katsuki shrugs. “You call one of them, they all come. You had a good nap?”

“Yes,” Shouto confirms stiffly. “Thank you. Where’s my son?”

All of his old classmates point in unison.

Shouto sighs. He should have known.

“I should have been home an hour ago,” he explains softly under his breathe as he makes his way over. “Sorry for the trouble, everyone.”

“No trouble at all,” Izuku points out, pressing Shouto’s shoulder with one scarred hand. “Always there to help when you need us.”

“I don’t wanna bother-”

“Dude,” Denki exclaims. “You’re not bothering us. If anything, you’re giving us an excuse to hit you up as well when the little one’s a pain in the ass.”

Kyoka hits his shoulder at that, but she still nods to show her agreement.

“Look,” Fumikage points out, startling them. “We’ve been through war together. Can it really be more difficult to ask for help in this?”

Shouto’s shoulders lower and he nods. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He bends down to scoop up Shouji, unable to stop from smiling when he notices the thumb firmly lodged in his mouth.

“Let’s get you home.”

“No, no...” Shouji whines low under his breath, waking up just enough to realize what’s going on. “Wanna play!”

“Yes, yes. Momma’s waiting.”

Shouji sniffles at that, falling silent, his face hidden against his father’s neck.

With a last smile at his friends, Shouto leaves.

“Fuyumi asked if we’d leave Shouko with her for the weekend,” you explain that night, curled into his hold.

“That’s pretty brave to offer in this state,” Shouto comments dryly, enjoying the chuckle it draws from you.

“It is. But she’s gone through this before, she knows what to do. Besides, Rei’s going to help out.”

“You think we should do it?”

“You don’t think so?” You ask back, leaning back to catch the look in his eyes. “What are your thoughts?”

“I’m just… Shouldn’t we be able to do this on our own?”

“We are doing it on our own,” you disagree softly. “But no one said we have to refuse any help. Besides, I think we’re over the worst. And one weekend of uninterrupted sleep would do wonders for us. You can’t be a good father if you’re running on fumes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, considering it. “So… Shouko with Fuyumi and Shouji with Katsuki?”

“He offered,” You remind him. “Besides, your parents are always eager to get Shouji for the weekend, you know that.”

“Yes.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I know. I think…” He takes a deep breath. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, I’ll follow your lead.”

“Good,” you kiss him, let your love and care for him drop like honey from your tongue. “Now close your eyes and rest, love. I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe he could have laughed at that. That a civilian could keep a Hero safe.

But he knows it’s true. His heart has never been safer than with you.

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

Next part? - Baby Series - part 4

#my writing #todoroki fluff #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto fluff #mha x reader #mha #mha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 months

Note

I really need more stuff on some Joker Junior angst, along with Jason finding out about Joker Junior. Even better if you wanna pull in the whole Red Hood (Joker/Jason) Attacking Robin (Jason/Tim), both times when Robin was 15 years old and was supposed to be with someone/somewhere safe.

Hmm... I agree that more content about that would be fabulous. I especially love JJ fanart (there's some really cool ones on TikTok).

Fuck it. Here we go:

TW: torture, Joker Junior, violence, blood, flashback, dissociation, derealization, hallucinating(?)

Tim hands fly to his throat in a desperate attempt to rub away the urge to giggle. He's biting his lips hard enough to bleed in order to prevent them from twisting into a panicked grin.

He's pinned to the floor by a man using one of Joker's alias.

Just like old times, eh?

A snicker slips out at that, which only seems to enrage the man in red.

"Something funny, Placeholder?" The voice modulator in the helmet does nothing to hide the clear disdain and wrath curling through Red Hood. His grip tightens over his holsters, but he doesn't pull them out quite yet. The crimson helmet just glares down at Robin.

Red, red, red. He'd look so much better in Green.

Fuck. Note to self, Tim. JJ likes Red Hood.

Robin locks his face down at this revelation to keep a calm facade. He could try to dislodge the knives holding him hostage, but not with the perpetrator towering over him like this. "Nope. My bad, Hood. Got a little distracted. Where were we?"

The crime lord takes a few steps forward until he's next to the trapped bird. Somehow, he makes even the action squatting appear menacing. "This is the part where I torture you. Where I cut off a little bird's wings so you'll never fly again. Maybe then, B will learn."

Robin watches as Hood draws another knife. The crime lord twirls the blade between his fingers and tilts his head. There's a considering glint evident in his body language.

In a sick mockery of comfort, Red Hood trails the knife down Robin's cheek. It's too close to Joker's signs of "affection" after a round of shock treatment.

Junior shudders.

The leather jacket starts to morph into a lavender lounge coat and Tim blinks rapidly to clear his vision.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips when he's able to see Red Hood again.

The crime lord pauses. He tilts his head once more. Tim can feel the gaze studying him, but he's not sure why. He can't tell if the man is genuinely curious or if he's inspecting Robin like a bug trapped in plexiglass.

When the knife leaves his skin, Tim feels his shoulders lose an inch of tension.

"Don't get too comfortable. I've got a few questions before I snap your legs."

Tim can feel a jolt of pain flash through his legs at the claim. He grimaces at the notion of months off field.

Hood leans back onto his heels, fortunately giving the younger teen some space. It doesn't seem intentional, but it's better.

"You've been Robin for two years now?"

When Tim initially refuses to acknowledge the question, Hood raises the knife. Robin sighs and gives a nod.

The man hums and brings the hilt of the knife to his chin. The weird thinking pose blares an alarm in Tim's brain, but he can't quite piece together where he's seen it before.

"About eight months ago, the clown disappeared."

Phantom feelings of electricity run through Tim's body. His muscles twitch under the memory.

Red Hood leans closer. "Where is he?"

Tim can hear -

"You know better than that, Junior. Where's the smile for your old man?"

A desperate giggle bubbles up Tim's throat.

"Come on, son. You wouldn't want to make your mother sad, would you?"

Joker leans over Tim Junior with a wicked grin. He grips a blade and gestures to Junior's lips. "Do you want your dear old Dad to teach you to smile? Again?"

Junior shakes his head frantically as trembling lips split open in a facsimile of a smile. The motion pulls at his stitches scars.

Scars?

That's not-

Junior's smile starts to fall.

Red Hood Joker crosses his arms. "What the fuck are you smiling at?"

Junior still has a smile on his face (it can't drop), but his eyebrows furrow. "Dad?"

Joker flinches back.

Amethyst cloth flickers to bronze leather and then back again. Forest green hair morphs into a cherry red helmet. Junior watches it peer behind its shoulder before Joker's face turns back to him.

"Batman isn't here."

A cackle erupts from Junior's lips and dissolves into a fit of giggles. Joker peers at Tim Junior in confused horror. The kid turns his head more towards the man. A smile stretches and pulls the corner of his lips, highlighting the faint scars.

Junior Tim hears the man take a startled breath in.

"Batsy isn't Dad. Dad-"

Tim frowns as his gaze drifts away from the man. "I killed Dad. He's dead."

He pouts exaggeratedly before Junior dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Bam!" Both of his hands point an imaginary gun Red Hood's Joker's way. "Bam! Bam!" The hands recoil back as if actually shooting the man.

Tears start to stream down Junior's Tim's face. He fights to bring his lips away from a grin.

"Fuck." He's still grining. "Fuck!"

Red Hood, the cause of all of this, is just staring at Tim. He's observing the teen try to bring himself back to sanity inch by stupid fucking inch.

Tim's eyes dart around the room. He takes a deep breath in and, on the exhale, list something he sees. "Chair. Blender. Staff. Kni-"

Several more deep breaths in and out as he ignores all the knives in the room. "Light. Jacket. Cape. Couch. Lemon. Counter."

His hands paw at his utility breath as he keeps breathing. He grasps one of the sour candies and works on opening the wrapper. He pops it into his mouth and continues the breath exercise.

Red Hood is silent as he watches Robin pull himself back into reality.

It takes several more minutes before Robin's breaths return to normal. He lays there looking at the ceiling absolutely drained and done with this whole situation.

Finally, Tim turns his gaze to the crime lord.

"Can you just kill me already or get the fuck out?"

Red Hood responds by pulling off his helmet.

Tim blinks. Sighs. Then starts up his grounding techniques again.

#tim drake #dc comics #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #jason todd #joker jr #joker junior #i'm not gonna edit this so hopefully it's good enough

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bubble-dream-inc · 2 years

Text

i walk the line.

You had joked with Ghost before about getting married, never with a tone serious enough for it to be taken into account, even if it was something you dreamed about whenever you were alone with your thoughts. What you hadn’t expected was the question to come up at such an inopportune time.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Sergeant Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 2.1 K

a/n: i hate giving my fics titles so just assume the song in the title is the vibe i want the fic to have lmao. also this is unedited and not beta read so beware of typos and shit

warnings: estabilished relationship, profanity, whump, description of wound, mentions of death, badly timed marriage proposal, medical inaccuracies, fluff, happy ending

It’s cold.

No, scratch that. It’s fucking freezing.

God, you hate the cold. Considering how much you despise it, it amuses you to think you might have been a desert creature in another life. A lizard, maybe. The types to scurry really fast and eat small insects all day. What a life.

You’re lost in your musings but you think there are a few very faint voices calling for you. Where are they coming from? Above? Seems like it. First, you hear their voices getting clearer, and recognize a word. It’s your codename, meaning, it’s your teammates voices. But why do they sound so agitated? Next, you feel pain. Quickly rising, scorching hot pain in your abdomen.

Oh, that’s right. You were shot.

A scream echoes out wherever you are and only later you’d recognize it as your own, in the same moment you recognize Ghost’s own booming voice frantically calling out for you, and the heavy weight of Soap’s large hands holding you down so you wouldn’t trash as much. It had been ironic, really, how much the mission went smoothly, 99% of it being completed without a hitch, but right as you were about to celebrate success, some fucker neither of you had seen before had decided to put a bullet in you - any of you - blindly, and it so happened it would hit you. The offender was long gone, a throw knife lodged in his skull as quick as a blink of an eye in the split second after the gunshot was heard, but the damage was already done. A few seconds before it happened, you had groaned how much you couldn’t wait for evac to come so you could take a hot shower and sleep, since your bones were aching, and Gaz had laughed and called you old-spirited. So much for that shower, you think as you take in the surroundings of what you could see of the abandoned safe house from your position on the blood stained table. It was painful to think about if that same table was used in the past for a family reunion or to gather folks around for good news, before hell broke loose and war tore apart the people, so you didn’t think about it. Ghost called your codename again and you cast your eyes downwards to look at him, the fear in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

“Hey! Talk to me, don’t you dare close your eyes!”

You had screamed as he was removing the projectile from your flesh, you realized. Was not your first rodeo, a thought that made you want to laugh bitterly, but just the idea of laughing made you wince in pain. His hands were currently trying to stop the bleeding, and after taking one look at the wound, you suddenly felt at peace.

It was pretty shitty you were going to die in an equally shitty safehouse, but that’s the life you chose. So, against your better judgment, you chuckle lowly and decide to follow your superior’s orders.

“Keep talking, eh? Alright.” You groaned once more when he applied more pressure to your gaping wound. “L.t, do you- do you remember when i told you…I wanted to retire early and - fuck - get to the countryside and get a big ass dog?”

He looked up at you briefly, glad you were talking but clearly wondering where you were going with this. You knew he hated when you spoke of the future as if you were going to die - which, right now, you were pretty sure it was really happening this time - but you couldn’t help yourself. Of course he remembers that conversation, it was in the beginning of your secret-not-so-secret relationship. You had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t a soldier, and he had given you a very cryptic and vague answer that resembled a lot like nothing. In turn, you told him your wishes half heartedly, as if thinking of living for 10 more years was a very distant dream.

The relationship between the 141’s Lieutenant and one of its Sargeants was a sort of urban legend going around. People knew it was happening, but didn’t dare speak of it, and no one had ever really seen any proof of it, so, it was best to avoid prying into Ghost’s private matters as to not risk being at the receiving end of his annoyance, and, in turn, you both found solace in having something that only the two of you knew about. It never hindered your professionalism and it had been going on for a few good years now, so it became somewhat naturalized between the folks coexisting in the same space as you and Simon after a while. However, that never stopped the natural curiosity to flourish in a few people - namely, your comrades, who always knew there was something going on given the fact you’d literally look at your superior with hearts in your eyes - so you had to ignore Gaz and Soap’s expectant eyes on you as you spoke so tenderly, the intensity of witnessing the start of what seemed like a very intimate talk momentarily sharing space with the worry they were feeling over you.

“...Yes. I remember.”

He never forgets the things you say, even if you think it’s not important at the time. You hummed, ignoring the pain that came with it.

“Big dogs were never really my thing. I just-” A cough ripped out of you, and you didn’t need to look to know there was blood in it. “ I just thought it was the kind of thing you’d want. Big dogs fit you. It felt less scary to think about retiring once I added you in the equation.”

You were slurring your words and you knew it. As you regained your breath, you briefly saw a very wide-eyed and angry looking Price curse into his comm asking where the fuck was the goddamn chopper. Your codename being barked alongside the word “WIA” to a poor fellow soldier on the other side of the line left you with a bad taste in your mouth. You hate how scared Ghost looked, your big, scary, stoic Ghost, and you can’t help but feel selfish for leaving him, even if being shot was not your fault and wasn’t really in your plans when you left the base that morning.

“Stop talking like you’re fucking d-”

“We could have done it, you know?” Your laugh is, once again, bitter, and you’re acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face. Death has never scared you, but now that you got a reason to stay, you’re terrified. “Could’ve gotten hitched somewhere nice. Can’t really imagine you in a suit, though.”

The pain doesn’t stop, but it gets duller as you feel your consciousness slipping away, and you never fought so much to stay awake in your entire life. Simon yells something to Soap among the lines of getting something from somewhere so he can continue trying to save you, but you don’t register his words. His tone softens once his eyes are back on you.

“I’d wear a suit if you asked me to, sweetheart.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask, though.”

Not caring there are other people in the room, you smile at him, well aware it must be uncanny to see Ghost be so tender towards another person, but again, you were the lucky one who got to see it every time it was just the two of you, so you got used to it with time.

Your vision starts spinning more and more, and your eyes start to close the moment you hear the familiar, faint sound of a helicopter getting closer, Simon’s big hands suddenly on your face to try to keep you grounded, and he sounds even more exasperated than before. He calls your name - not your codename, for once.

“Stay alive, do you hear me?! You gotta stay the fuck alive so i can take you to the bloody countryside and get bloody hitched-”

“You askin’ me to marry ya’ in my deathbed, sir?” You manage to slur out, your smile growing despite the panic you don’t have the energy to express settling in your bones, and Simon’s eyes widen even more behind the mask.

“Yes, I am, so stay with me, that’s a fucking order-”

You chuckle, closing your eyes as the frantic sounds around you all blur into a garbled mess. Faintly you feel your body being moved around, a strong wind on your blood and dirt caked hair, hear some more shouting, but then,

Silence.

——————————

Feels like the thousandth time you have woken up, and the feeling of coming in and out of consciousness is unbearable at best.

The first time - or the second, you don’t remember - there was a strong light above you, but you had no energy to open your eyes, so it lasted a measly second before you were out again. Later, you heard an unfamiliar voice saying something about an induced coma for a few days for a better recovery. You wondered if they were talking about you (they probably were). This happens a few more times before you actually feel your consciousness coming back for good, and, before you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is how warm it is, and, if you could, you’d smile. The spring air smells good, and you think you catch a whiff of cleaning products while you inhale, suddenly aware of how empty your lungs felt. The third thing you notice is the weight on your hand, and once you open your eyes, you find a familiar set of skeleton gloved hands on top of your own. A few years back you had told him with a laugh the print was very 2000’s, and he had just brushed you off with a scowl, but you’ve never been so glad to see the tacky thing. His thumb caresses your skin as he patiently waits for you to become more aware of your surroundings, and you instantly smile when you finally meet his gaze, which looks extremely relieved.

“Hi.” Your throat feels parched, voice straining as if you’d swallowed a kilo of sand, but Simon thinks your voice never sounded so sweet to his ears.

“Hi.”

It hurts to move, but you do so anyway, slowly sitting up despite Simon’s protests just so you can see him more clearly and grasp his hand a little better. While you are busy cringing at the dull pain in your stomach from the stitches, he extends a glass of water for you, to which you grab and gulp down immediately, quenching your thirst and looking over at your partner with such gratitude an onlooker would have thought he was a literal godsend.

“How bad is it?” Your voice still felt rough from disuse, but at least it sounded a bit more familiar to your ears.

“Pretty bad.” He doesn’t bother you with details; he knows you were never a fan of hearing about your wounds descriptively. “But you’ve always been tough.”

You flash him a grin that has him silently flabbergasted both with how beautiful you are and how quickly you seem to bounce back from a near fatal injury. Suddenly, you remember your last words before you blacked out, and your smile turns shy as you cast your gaze down to where your hands meet.

“...Did you mean it?”

Simon has always been extremely observant and smart, he knows what you are talking about immediately, and you like to think he is smiling under the mask as he goes back to gingerly caressing the top of your smaller hand with his thumb.

“I did, sweetheart.” His voice is low, and every time he calls you a pet name it has your heart doing somersaults. “I’m sorry I don't have a ring yet and I don't know when we would have some time off to have a ceremony, but I want to marry ya’. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Feeling like your smile would grow so big it would rip your face, you beamed at him, acutely aware of how you must have been looking like a mess with a - hospital - bed head and tired eyes, but you’d hoped he could notice the hearts in your eyes as obviously as you felt them. Things always seemed to fall in place with Ghost; no need for extravagance or huge acts, and the fact that your marriage proposal was exactly that, made you fall even more in love with him. You watched lovingly as he raised your hand to press a mask covered kiss on the top of it, and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Of course i’ll marry you, Simon.”

#capy.writes #cod #cod mw22 #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #cod modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reade #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 10 months

Text

Not Tonight. Not To You. Never Again.

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader (can possibly be read as platonic)

Something something Astarion would kill anybody who tries to take your drink at a party something something

I started this while sitting in the car doing laundry, and I'm finishing this while very sleepy. It was half proofread, again bc I'm sleepy

THIS FIC CONTAINS THEMES OF DATE-RAPE DRUGGING AND SEXUAL ASSAULT

Warnings: drugging, references to sexual assault, swearing, blood, murder, slight protective Astarion, no actual assault happens, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,374

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You blinked as the world tilted on its axis, blurring at the edges of your vision, before it stood upright again, only slightly hazy. Had you really had that many drinks tonight? It didn't seem like it. Maybe this tavern's brew was stronger than you were used to?

"Everythin’ alright? You look a bit sick."

You look up at Karlach with a reassuring grin. You hated to worry any of your friends, but least of all the tiefling. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and you'd hate to see it crack. "I'm fine. Think I should head to bed - this stuff is stronger than I thought it would be."

She frowned. "Really?" She peered into her tankard, confused. "Seemed a bit weak to me."

You chuckle. It sounded distant. "Guess I'm a bit of a lightweight." You push your mug away and stand on shaky legs, using the table for support. "Goodnight, everyone."

Those who hear you bid you goodnight as well, some raising their ales in gratitude and others teasing you about not being able to hold your liquor. Astarion stares at you like he's studying you, brow pinched tight. You offer him a smile, before doing your best to stumble toward the stairs.

Halfway there, a waiter comes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and smiling brightly. You recognized him through the fog in your vision; he'd been the one to serve you drinks. "Need a hand there, hero?"

You laugh, world spinning once more as you allow yourself to lean into his support. "A hero that can't hold their liquor," you drawl. "Some hero, eh?"

He chuckles by your ear. He bears most of your weight as he helps you up each well-worn step, steering you toward your room. How'd he know which one was yours? "I hardly think it affects the world's view of you," he assures. "After all, you did save Faerûn."

"It-" Your body lurched forward, all of your limbs turning to lead. The world continued to swirl and wave and twist, until you couldn't distinguish up from down or left from right. Black spots began dotting your vision, blocking out some of the vertigo. Your stomach churned, your head ached. "'t wasn' jus' me..."

"C'mon, love. Your room is just here. Let's get you to bed."

A bedroom spun in your vision, but not for long. The last thing you saw was the waiter's grinning face as you fell to the floor, too weak to stand any longer and too dizzy to stay upright if you had.

Where....

........... Astarion.........?

"Tav?" Something cold touches your face. "Darling, wake up."

"Mmnf..."

"That's it. You're safe now."

You blinked open your eyes but winced at the light that greeted you. You heard a soft hiss.

"Is that better?"

You tried again, and were grateful to find it was no longer so bright. You looked around, trying to get a sense of your surroundings.

"You're in your room." Astarion sneered, glaring at something on the floor. "But we should move you to mine before you try sleeping again.”

“Mm? Why..?” You groan as you sit up. Your body feels so heavy, like it was made entirely of stone. Astarion helped you up with a hand to your back. You followed where his gaze had been. Laying face down on the floor, in a puddle of blood, was… the waiter? You blinked stupidly at the corpse. “What happened?”

Once he was sure you wouldn’t fall backwards, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Bastard drugged you. Gods know what he would have done to you if I hadn’t followed you up.”

Your brain was still slow, trying to piece together what had happened before this. You remember celebrating a battle won. You’d bought drinks for everyone, and… You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths as bile rose to your throat. “Oh, fuck,” you gasped. “I-I thought the drinks were just strong, I-”

He carefully touches your arm. “It’s not your fault, love. No doubt he’d gotten good at tricking people.”

You shook your head, looking at him with wide, lost eyes. “What if he’d drugged you? Or Karlach or Shadowheart or- or-!”

He scoffed in disbelief, nose scrunching. “You just got drugged and nearly assaulted, and all you’re worried about is what could have happened if it’d been one of us? Darling, please, have a little perspective.”

You grimace as you glance back at the body. The sight of the blood or the corpse itself doesn’t bother you anymore. But the thought of what could have happened sat thick and unpleasant in your stomach. You grab his hand from your arm and hold it in your lap, fiddling with his long fingers to distract yourself. “How did you know to… To follow?”

“Well, for one, I trust Karlach knows when an ale is strong. Two, I’ve seen you hold your own against her in your little drinking games before. And three…” He curls his fingers around your hands, stopping your fiddling and rubbing a thumb along your knuckles. “I’ve seen men like him play this same game before. Too many times. I wasn’t going to risk it happening to you, too.”

A chill runs through your body. You lean forward to press your forehead against his neck. He hesitantly brings up a hand to run along your back, holding you to him. “Thank you,” you murmur. You bury your face further into him. “Gods, I can’t believe I…” You sigh, soft and shaky, dread overwhelming you as the reality of what happened sunk in. “Thank you, Astarion.”

“As much as I’d love to sit here all night, listening to you praise me over and over for the hero I am,” he teases, earning a quiet huff from you, “you need to sleep. And not here.” He gently pulls you away from him and stands from the bed, squeezing your hands before he lets go. “We’ll just tuck you in down the hall, I’ll go downstairs and scold the others for being too careless, inform the innkeeper of his employee’s exploits - perhaps even get paid for doing so - and then we can get the Hells out of here come first light.”

You chuckled softly. He helped you stand, an arm around your waist keeping you steady as he walked you around the body and out the door. “And if I want you to stay?”

He hums as though the thought never crossed his mind, before sighing overdramatically. “Then I’ll just have to get paid for my bold rescue in the morning. I suppose it can wait until then. I won’t be cleaning up that mess anyway.”

He unlocks his door at the end of the hall and guides you to the bed, setting you down on the edge. You clumsily kick your boots off and he sets them by the door, toeing his off right next to them. You plop back into the pillows, giving in to the weight in your bones. He huffs a laugh at how pathetic you look, but it’s far more endearing than he wishes to admit.

You do your best to get comfortable under the thick duvet the inn provided, sinking into the warmth it offered. He easily slithered in beside you, touching you almost pensively as you turn into him and cuddle close to his chest. You’re so warm. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, the other draped over your waist, keeping you close. Keeping you safe.

Even just thinking about what could have happened if he hadn’t had the good sense to follow fills him with rage. He should have torn that bastard apart, piece by piece, until he only knows pain and remorse for every single victim that came before. But you’re safe, and that’s what really matters, more than his own revenge.

You press your nose against his neck, hot breaths fanning across his skin. He could almost feel the brush of your lips as you murmured another thank you. Your arms slipped around his middle, wrapping around him so you were as close as possible. You muttered another thanks, and another, and another, until exhaustion overwhelmed you, and you fell asleep in his arms.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted

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cuubism · 11 months

Text

a very silly story for you. johanna, dreamling's weird baby, and an accidental kidnapping (and subsequent rescue)

Johanna’s seen a lot of weird shit in her time. It comes with the territory. Magical shit also tends to be horrible shit which also tends to be weird shit. But even she is finding herself flummoxed by this one.

She’d broken into this flat prepared to perform an exorcism. Amateur occultist, planning to summon a demon? That’s what she’d heard, and yeah, that wasn’t going to go well. And it hadn’t—the guy was on fire when she arrived, so on fire that there was no way she could put it out or help him, though she had throne a blanket over him in a meager attempt. It was too late, though. He was charcoal in seconds.

That, while horrible, wasn’t even the weird part. The weird part was that there wasn’t even a demon, but there was a baby.

Sitting in the middle of the room, in a bird cage.

Johanna stares at it now, barely noticing the acrid smoke she’s still breathing in. Why the actual fuck is there a baby in a birdcage?

It doesn’t seem to be hurt at all. It’s just sitting there on a blanket at the bottom of the cage, clutching a little cat stuffed toy in its chubby fingers. But it’s in a birdcage. A bird cage.

Johanna goes to open the cage, of course she does—

And the moment she touches the latch she jumps back, shaking out her hand from the spark. Holy hell, that thing is warded to high heaven. That cage could probably keep a demon contained. Why is a baby warded like that? It’s just a human—

It.

It looks like a human baby.

Johanna circles the cage, more wary now. She should know better, should know that an occultist like that wouldn’t be carrying around a regular baby in a cage. Even if you’re a real sicko, you don’t need a cage to keep hold of a baby. It can’t even walk.

So it’s not a regular baby. Sure looks like one, though. Makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, that does.

As Johanna looks more closely at the wards, the baby watches her with wide eyes, sucking on its thumb. It’s actually pretty cute. It’s even wearing a star-print onesie. The wards are hardcore, though. Nothing’s getting in, and certainly nothing is getting out.

“Either you’re some fucked up thing disguised as a baby,” she muses out loud, “or you’re an actual little baby fucked up thing, which means your fucked up nightmare mummy is going to come looking for you.”

The baby blurbles in agreement.

Either way, she can’t exactly take it to the authorities. Which means she’s going to have to take the baby home, at least for now.

“Fuck me,” Johanna says, and picks up the cage.

The baby is silent on the drive home—buckled awkwardly into the back seat of the car—and remains so as Johanna puts the cage down on the floor of her living room. It watches her with big eyes, sucking its thumb. It doesn’t seem particularly afraid, though Johanna can’t imagine being in a cage is very pleasant, even for a baby that probably doesn’t understand what’s going on anyway.

Or who knows, maybe it does. Jo doesn’t really know much about babies’ development trajectories.

“Right,” she says, looking at it with hands on her hips. “I’m not really looking to become a mum, so we’ll have to get you out of there and back where you belong. Fuck if I know where that is.”

The baby makes a gurgling sound that could be agreement or just gassiness.

Johanna gets out some chalk and starts to draw a containment array around the cage. “Sorry about this, little chap,” she says, “but I still don’t know what you are. Better safe than sorry, eh?”

The baby is silent, watching her.

Johanna finishes the containment circle, binding it off with a final rune. It’s not so mean of a ward as the cage had. Just enough to keep the baby from exploding with power once she does break the cage open. If that’s something it can even do.

She studies the ward. “Think I can pick this lock,” she says to herself. “Take me a sec, though. Don’t suppose you want a beer while you wait?” This to the baby. “I haven’t got any formula. Or are you old enough for baby food?”

The baby just sucks on its thumb. It really does seem quite sweet. Shame about secretly being a monstrosity in a cage, and all.

Johanna works on the ward, occasionally chatting out loud to the baby. It doesn’t reply, obviously, but it listens. Johanna is feeling more invested in getting it back to its parents the longer she sits with it. Even if it is some gross creature, it doesn’t deserve to be in a birdcage. It’s just a baby.

“Good trick we met each other, my friend,” she says as she finally unravels the last bit of the warding. “Doubt that guy had good plans for his captured baby.”

She clicks open the ward.

As soon as she does, the formerly placid baby starts screaming. And Johanna realizes that part of the ward’s function had been to stop it from crying for help.

“Mama!” the baby wails, tears pooling in its eyes, little fists scrunched tight around its plushy’s legs. “MammaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

Its voice warbles outside the normal sound range and straight into her brain, ringing like a bell. She covers her ears, but it doesn’t help. Great, now the thing’s mother is going to show up and eat her. This is what she gets for trying not to be a total asshole for once. Should’ve opened the cage in the street and fled.

“Shhhhhh,” she tries to soothe the baby, “it’s okay—” But it’s too late. And Johanna isn’t a very soothing person anyway. It probably wouldn’t have worked, even if the room hadn’t been plunged into sudden darkness.

Johanna stumbles back, though she can see nothing. Thunder and static ripple through the air, cold wind tangles her hair. Jo claps her hands over her ears as the air pressure increases and increases and—

The baby squeals, and it sounds happy now, rather than afraid. “Mama!!”

A voice scraped from the utter depths of mental torment booms through her flat.

C O N S T A N T I N E

Ah, fuck.

“Morpheus,” she tries, because she does recognize that voice, unfortunately, “listen—”

A wall of sand knocks her backwards.

As it does, some light returns to the flat, and she can see Morpheus, looking markedly less pathetic than when she’d last encountered him, standing in the center of the living room, looking down at the baby. His eyes flash with otherworldly light. His sand rushes around him, scrapes through the binding circle she’d drawn like it’s nothing but chalk, dissolves the birdcage to nothing, plays with the baby’s curls and pools in the crevices of its onesie. Meanwhile, it flattens Johanna against the wall, wraps in winding strands of wind around her chest and squeezes.

The baby reaches for Morpheus, who kneels and picks it up. He says something to the baby, the words low and solemn but inaudible over the rushing sand, then holds it close to his chest.

Then his gaze turns to Johanna.He looks murderous. Johanna had thought he’d been pissed off about his sand. She hadn’t seen even a tenth of it.

“I guess you’re mama?” she says, past the sand squeezing around her chest. This really is just the kind of stupid thing that would happen to her.

Morpheus’s eyes are like black holes in his pale face. “Constantine,” he growls, with much of the same danger as before, though at lower volume. “I thought we had parted on neutral terms. More fool I. What grudge do you still hold against me?” The sand squeezes her tighter. “Speak quickly, for your time is limited.”

“There’s no grudge, I have nothing to—”

“Ransom, then?” says Morpheus, seeming, if possible, more angry. “You would compel favors from me by threatening a child?” He clutches the baby to his chest. It’s started chewing on the lapel of his coat. The whole picture would be kind of hilariously adorable if she weren’t on the verge of being torn apart by nightmares.

“I’m not responsible for this!” Johanna insists. “Consult your stalker encyclopedia of all minds if you have to. You really think I’m going around kidnapping infants?”

“I think,” says Morpheus, each syllable a new threat, “that you must explain why you had my daughter in a cage. NOW. And count yourself fortunate I have granted you the mercy of an explanation.”

“I literally just found her!” Johanna says. Doesn’t she deserve even a little bit of good faith? She did help with the sand and all. Morpheus’s eyes narrow as if he does not believe her. “Look. Caught wind of this amateur guy messing around with occult stuff. Thought he’d summoned a demon so I went to exorcise it. Found this baby instead.”

“And what of this man?” says Morpheus in a tone that suggests exactly what will soon become of him.

“He was practically dead by the time I got there. Burned alive.” She shudders. She still hasn’t figured out exactly what was going on there, if he’d meant to summon Morpheus’s baby in the first place—ill-advised choice, that—or if it was a spell gone wrong. “‘Fraid you’re too late to torment him.”

“Hmm,” rumbles Morpheus, with evident displeasure, but the sand finally releases Johanna and she sways, standing on her own feet again. Morpheus doesn’t apologize for throwing her against the wall. “You will show me where you found her.”

“Sure, mate,” Johanna says, sucking in a wheezing breath. “Might want to get your baby home first, though.”

Morpheus doesn’t get a chance to respond. Behind Johanna, the front door bursts open— bursts off its fucking hinges, goddammit, now she’ll have to get that fixed— and a man runs through. A very ordinary man, except that he’s carrying a sword. An actual, medieval-looking sword. And in a way that suggests he knows how to use it, too.

He looks almost as murderous as Morpheus, except that no one can quite match Morpheus’s shadows-and-cataclysm level of murder. Evidently, Johanna found the most radioactive baby in all the occult world. But at least it has people that care about it. That’s nice, she supposes.

As soon as he sees Morpheus with the baby across the room, he relaxes, sheathing the sword in a scabbard strapped to his back. “Ah, love. You found her.”

“Dadaaaaaa!!!!” yells the baby with its piercing voice, reaching for him. And the man smiles, striding past Johanna and taking the baby from Morpheus, leaning in to kiss Morpheus on the cheek as he does.

“Hob,” says Morpheus, with a little smile that finally breaks his stormy countenance. “Yes. She called for me when she was able.”

“Good lass,” says Hob, kissing the baby on the forehead, then looks warily at Johanna.

“Ms. Constantine is not responsible,” says Morpheus, and ‘Hob’—his partner? Coparent? Johanna’s not sure she even wants to know—relaxes further.

“Great. Glad we’ve established that. How the hell did you find my flat.” This she demands of Hob.

Hob reaches into the back of the baby’s onesie and plucks a small disc off the collar; he shows it to her with a little wave, then slips it in his pocket.

“Is that an AirTag?”

“We aren’t all plugged into the whole collective unconscious.” He taps the baby on the nose fondly, and she giggles, grabbing at his finger. “And you’re Dada’s little flight risk, aren’t you?”

Johanna sighs, finally flopping down on the couch now that it seems she’s unlikely to get swept away to nightmare-land. She definitely needs a beer after this. “You have a baby?” she says to Morpheus.

“Evidently,” he says flatly. So much for getting answers on that.

“Have we gone after the person who was responsible?” asks Hob. Johanna thinks he means it to come out mildly but it doesn’t, really.

“Already got set on fire, mate,” Jo tells him. “Found him like that.”

“Set on fire?” says Hob with a frown. “Was the rest of the room on fire?”

As a matter of fact, it wasn’t. Which is strange.

Silently, she shakes her head, and Hob turns back to the baby. Now he’s grinning. “Did the bad man wish for power?” he says, in a baby-talk voice, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Did he? And did my little Sparkle take that literally and turn him into a lightbulb?” As a conspiratorial aside to Johanna, he says, “She loves electricity.”

“Sparkle?” she says. “She’s a baby, not a My Little Pony.”

“That is a nickname,” says Morpheus, with a sideways glance at Hob that suggests he finds it questionable at best. “She is Wish.” He says this in the same way he might say I am Dream, rather than my name is Dream.

A moment later, Johanna learns where the nickname came from, as Wish giggles and taps at Hob’s face, sparks dancing around her fingertips. Sparkle. Jesus.

“She does not yet have a firm grasp on her abilities,” says Morpheus.

Wish. Half-Endless baby. Kidnapper set on fire. Jo thinks she gets it now. She shivers.

“You have sworn to show me where you found her,” Morpheus reminds her. Sworn. Does he have to be so dramatic?

Jo sighs, but heaves herself up from the couch. “Yep. Alright. So long as you promise to keep better track of that monkey’s paw baby of yours.”

Morpheus bristles, but Hob just chuckles. “This is the easy part. Wait ’til she gets better at flying.”

He doesn’t appear to be joking. “Don’t envy you,” Johanna says. Then grudgingly admits, “She is cute, though.”

Hob beams.

Morpheus is still fixated on her. Johanna can read the demand without him having to voice it. “What, you’re gonna bring the baby along on the revenge mission?” she asks.

They both just look at her. Neither moves to take Wish home.

“Figures,” Johanna says, with a sigh. This is what she gets for not choosing a more normal profession. She opens the front door and gestures them on. “Fine, then. Let’s go.”

#a silly nano project #my writing #the sandman #johanna constantine #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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dontexpectmuch · 8 months

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Hey, Love! If you are still taking requests, I have one! Something along the lines of building one of those Lego bouqets with Jude and maybe having customized Lego characters that both carry around of each other. Such a fan of your works BTW ❤️❤️

side note: i just recently got a lego bouquet gifted for my bday! they are so pretty 🥹

—

“do we need anything else?”

you shake your head as an answer, already eagerly opening the lego box placed in front of you.

jude settled down next to you, eating some of the popcorn from the bowl, while also feeding you a few pieces, his eyes never leaving your excited face. he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly made him feel so good right now as he was looking at you, but that expression on your face, the sparkle in your eyes and your smile that almost reaches your ears, are all reasons he is grateful for taking jobe with him to the mall a few hour ago.

“why don’t you get those lego flowers? everyone loves them.” jobes points to the lego section of the store with his chin, his hands inside his pockets.

“to do what? don’t you think it’s childish?” jude questions, eyebrows drawn together as his body fully turns into the direction of where the section is located.

“i guess it would be a nice gift for an artist, eh? since they already put so mich time into self-made stuff and shit.” jobe explains his thoughts, though he doesn’t really go into it any further, stepping closer to another section in the opposite direction.

without any further ado, jude moves closer to the lego flowers, your face being the only picture in his mind.

“okay, would you like to read the instructions? or should i do it?” your voice cuts him out of his thoughts, making him look back at your face that continues to have a smile on it.

jude takes the instruction papers out of your hand, leaning back on the other. his eyes skim through it as he hums knowingly.

“i guess i’ll read them, you put the pieces together.”

“sure.”

turning back to the different plastic bags in front of your, jude couldn’t help but move closer to you, pressing a kiss on your head. the papers are long forgotten as he sneaks his arm around your shoulder, pulling your body into his.

“should we play with each other first? get a better feeling?” he pushes the blanket off his lap, his lips trailing down your check to your neck.

you sigh, leaning into his touch and moving your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck, “mh, don’t know, jude. maybe finish this first?”

nodding, he pulls away, though the scent of his aftershave still surrounding you.

you put the blanket over your legs, starting to read the first instructions to build your flowers. silence takes a comfortable place in the living room, granting you two a moment to relax and enjoy the presence of one another. scented candles find their way to your nose, dimmed lights and the platter of the rain outside create a small safe haven, only for you to have.

even if you are really happy about the present your boyfriend has given you and you want to focus on it, you can’t help but feel your eyes wander to his direction.

the feeling of adoration settles in your chest, caused by the concentrated look on judes face. his tongue pokes out from his lips, his nostrils are flared, but he looked oh-so good under the dimmed lights, ethereal almost.

“do i have something on my face?” jude looks up from his hands that hold the first stem of the flowers, his eyes wide in question.

smiling, you shake your head, “no, just admired my pretty boyfriend.”

laughing, jude bumps his shoulder against yours, “nah, babe. it’s your prettiness reflecting on me.”

his words make you smile, bumping your shoulder against his this time, “stop being so romantic, it’s making me feel mushy inside, completely ruining my dark and mysterious vibe.”

“i can ruin even more if you’d let me, love.”

you throw your head back, laughing at his attempt, “flowers first, pretty boy.”

“as you wish, captain.”

#jude bellingham #football one shot #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff

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alwaysshallow · 11 months

Note

love the idea of high ranked readers kid just being the most chill fucking kid in the world— but only when ghost is holding them. like they just see this behemoth of a man with a skull mask and decide: yes. this is my person now and if anyone tries to remove me i will scream

just them gently patting ghosts face, curious about the mask and just spending majority of their time with their head laid on his shoulder, slowly drifting off to the voices around them and jerking wide awake whenever someone tries to remove them and just scowling at said person while gripping ghosts clothes in their tiny fists to show their displeasure and then slowly drifting off again only for this to repeat

(i am fucking obessed with this and have zero regrets)

You stare at your kid, happily tugging Simon’s shirt, and you can’t believe your own eyes and ears how chill she is.

Earlier? A crying mess, you thought you’re gonna burst into tears too, if she’s not gonna stop with the fuss that felt like her kind of revenge for taking her to work, instead of daycare, like always. You were singing lullabies for her, reading, but nothing seemed to work, and you wanted to hit your head against the wall, you even considered taking a day off, just to be with your daughter.

Yet, the sight of Simon Riley in the mask, coming right to you, seemed to soothe her more than anything - she suddenly got interested, and when he took her for a moment, she decided to stay there.

Your own kid, being a traitor. But could you blame her? Not really, not when she is lying comfortably on his chest, her little fists playing with the material of his shirt. Not when she seems to be the most comfortable around a man with a mask.

Ghost, a myth that scared the most brave soldiers, and when they saw his mask around, they knew their time was limited. Ghost, a legend, someone who was described as a soldier totally devoted to his work, no matter how many people he had to kill, no matter how many months he would have to spend on a single mission.

And Ghost, a babysitter for your daughter, apparently.

“She seems comfortable,” you laugh silently, praying that your voice isn’t gonna interrupt her sleep; it would be good to put her into a stroller, you don’t want to take advantage of Simon’s kindness. “Is it okay with you? I put you into—”

“—’s okay,” he interrupts you, locking his gaze with yours. His intense, brown eyes, makes you a bit shy in this scenario, especially when he looks so good with your kid; you wouldn’t accuse him of that earlier. Of being so good. “At least she’s sleepin’, yeah? Safe and sound.”

“Safe and sound,” you repeat, smiling softly, as you take a few steps into their direction. Lieutenant automatically stands up, slowly, his big hand on your daughter’s back, and you just can’t help yourself from sighing.

It’s like a dream.

“You good, colonel?” he asks, and you barely hold back your laugh.

“That obvious I’m not? Just taking in the view,” you reply, maybe a bit too sincere, but you don’t really care about that. Not when he looks so adorable with your daughter.

“That so,” he hums, and after a few seconds, you are so close - chest to chest close, with your kid between you two. Only barrier; or maybe a connection, binding you two. “Should probably give her to you, eh?”

“Would be nice, yes. You can’t hold her the whole eternity,” you whisper, clearing your throat, when he slowly leans in.

“Well,” he starts, his head tilting to the side, his lips next to your ear. “For you? For you, I’d be more than pleased to do that.”

You want to say something about his words, you want to confess somehow too, but your baby girl starts crying the moment Simon hangs her to you.

A reminder; that he’s not yours, and you’re not his.

“Guess she’s stayin’ with me,” Ghost smirks under his balaclava, when she stops crying.

“She always liked everyone better than me.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head with amusement. “Can you stay here for a couple of minutes, then? I need to go to Price for a second.”

“Right.” He nods. He, then, calls your name. “Don’t think we’re done with the conversation, okay? We can continue later on.”

You just gulp, smiling politely.

It's gonna be a long conversation, then.

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