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pleasehelpmeimfying · 1 day

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Could I ask for sub Aventurine? Maybe he is really in his head with work and wants to not think anymore so reader pampers them and gets them in subspace? Idk up to you 💙🩵

LMFAO TURNS OUT I DONT FULLY UNDERSTAND WHAT SUBSPACE IS😭 so I’ll try my best LMFAOOO BUT ILL MAKE THE FIC SCRUMPTIOUS 😍.

(No fonts due to my lack of storage. Mb goober :( )

{Amab!sub!Aventurine, possible Aventurine OOC. Angst if you squint hard enough. Amab!top!reader, blowjob, Aventurine receiving, Shitty rushed fic. Definitely gonna edit the story line later 💀…}

Read at your own risk.

Working day in and day out. Barely any time for breaks or self pleasure. It’s either something going terribly wrong or more idiots with little common sense fucking something up.

His work was never done. Aventurine just wanted a break, something to look forward to. The lack of sleep caused bags to slowly form under his eyes. The more he became more irritable, the more he was losing his mind in this work space.

Aventurine was reading over some delays that was recently reported, to focused in his paperwork to notice you entering his office with his favorite meal. Slowly you walked towards your lover with a small smile gracing your lips. You took advantage on how.. distracted he was.

You placed the food on a nearby shelf, slowly making your way behind him. Did he suspect a thing? Absolutely not, and it was amazing. Once you made it behind him you wasted no time to cup his face from the back and give him gentle kisses all over the left side of his face.

Did it startle him? Oh absolutely. Aventurine momentarily frozen in place, quickly recovering to a sly smile and weak chuckling. He should’ve known your ass would pull some shit like this. Yet he couldn’t resist melting into your warmth! You treated him all to well, and deep down he was still confused why anyone would choose to love someone like him.

“Aventurine, how long have you been working? You haven’t been home in a while.. I was getting worried something.. might’ve happened.”

Your worry and concern for his well being made his heart grow and grow. Filling up with unthinkable amount of love just for you. How long has it been since you held him? How long was it since he felt your love? To long perhaps. Still his eyes lingered at the work in front of him. Staring up at him with blank areas still to fill out.

Aventurine let out a stifled breath. His annoyance slowly creeping back at him. He just needed a little more time to finish before he was sure he wasn’t sure this man was dying rn that he was done for the night. Regretfully he would say the same thing as he did all those others times before.

“Hm, I need to get back to this. I swear I’m almost done my love. Just need more time..”

Genuinely you weren’t really paying much attention to what he was saying. Blocking him out with a playful smile. Then before he knew it, your guided his face to look at yours and placed more deeper kisses on his gorgeous face. Luring him to you. Did he care? Nahh..

You moved a bit away, taking your hands off his face. He felt his heart drop. Just a little bit! Before he saw you push his chair further from his desk so you could get better access to him. That damn back side of the chair was killing you slowly 💀.

“Your eyes.. you look so tried baby. I can’t allow you to keep working like this. How about we go home and get some rest, yea?”

Aventurine did NOT feel like moving. He just wanted to just slump against his chair. Though he would rather die than tell you that. So let’s put on that infamous poker face shall we?

He looked at you and gave you a smile. Weakly nodding in an attempt to play through his false facade. Did your bitch ass notice it? Yes and it was both concerning and hilarious. So you decided to cup his face one more time and bless his ears with your words. And in between words you kept squishing his face:3

“Second thought.. how bout we stay here just a little while longer. Relax a bit before you rush back home.”

Aventurine didn’t know what to do. First you wanted to go and now you wanna stay? Eh, he’ll just go with the flow. Though your hands felt so warm and soft. Once again he melted into your touch.. Then his mind wondered to places it shouldn’t have. First ranging to sweet thoughts, then to some more.. let’s say delusional thinking. Next thing you know as he has a ranging boner.

He knew that you knew about his problem. Probably why he turned into a whining mess in the next 42 minutes..

Hands tangled in your locks as he kept buckling into your mouth. Aventurine bit biting his bottom lips as muffled whines were forced out of his throat. Tears ready to spill at any moment as you kept going. Slurping his length without much care as your hands forced his thighs apart.

“<Y/N>.. please! I c-can’t hold- Nmmph! Hold I-It!♡︎”

Your mouth was warm and wet it almost made him go crazy. Aventurine didn’t know how your jaw wasn’t in agony by now. Forgot that thought, his lower half was absolutely being destroyed by you. Legs shaking as he tugged your hair one last time before combusting in your sweet mouth.

A gurgled moan slipped through Aventurine throat as the tears finally spilt. Back arching as his legs kept opening and closing. He just didn’t know what to do, what a poor baby.

“Shitshitshitshitshit… OohhHH! MmpPHH♡︎!”

His mind went completely blank. Not a single thought resided in that beautiful brain of his. Only tears and pleasure clouded his mind. He didn’t even notice you take his cock out of your mouth. He was just to fucked out honestly.

Aventurine body was twitching as he took deep breaths, trying to hold to some kind of saintly.

Maybe he would’ve finish his work later if he even remembered.

#i’m going insane #x male reader #male reader #pls send asks #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #sub aventurine #dom male reader #ask to tag #asks open #ask blog #send asks #ask game #send me asks #anon ask #ask me anything #ask #ask away!#sillyposting

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simplyghosting · 1 year

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My mother: You can’t drink at work!

My boss: Would you like another glass of Moscato?

#ghost posts #there’s context to why my mother said that #and it wasn’t to me #but still thought it was funny #we were with clients so we all had a meal together #very good wine btw can’t remember what it was #only had one glass like no I need to do paperwork after this #I feel really blessed like I can’t have asked for better work #like I’m not earning a lot but i like the work and my boss is great #my poor boss puts up with all my questions lol

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arielleslipgloss · 2 months

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How to Reinvent Yourself!!

(none of these photos are mine!) “Pour yourself a drink, put on lipstick and pull yourself together.” - Elizabeth Taylor

Mindset!! This is one of the most important things that comes with reinventing yourself. Therefore that toxic, negative, insecure, and judgmental mindset has gotta go. Say hello to your new positive, secure, lavish, and uplifting mindset! Now, first thing you need to do is stop taking EVERYTHING so personally. Should you really be spending your whole day overthinking what this person says about you. NO! The only opinion that should matter when it comes to you, IS YOU. Next, think with a “so what?” type of mindset. Someone doesn’t like you? So what! Someone judges you? So what! Say so what, and move on. Lastly, take care of your mind!! You can’t create a whole new mindset if you don’t take care of your mind. So, heal whatever is making your mind stressed and fill your head with lots of good thoughts. You could compliment yourself, do shadow work, watch uplifting videos, just do whatever makes you feel good.

2. Set boundaries!! Not only should you set boundaries for yourself, but also for your relationships. Whether thats with a bf/gf, family members, or even friends. Whoever it is, they need to understand to not cross the line. Now, if they don’t understand then they obviously shouldn’t be around you. This year we are only surrounding ourselves around people who deserve to have access to us. Now, let’s talk about examples of having boundaries . First example, someone may be touching you in a way that makes you uncomfortable. For that reason you move a bit away from that person and clarify that they’re making you uncomfortable. If they call you selfish, so what? They need to understand to respect your boundaries. Second, someone is disrespecting you? Tell them that you don’t like their behavior and to stop. Last example, a stranger is using your belongings without your permission? Tell them that they should have asked and you don’t want them using your stuff. If any of these people don’t respect your boundaries, get them out of your life!!

3. Change the way you dress, talk, and walk!! I would like to clarify quickly, only do this if you want to. Moving on, I’ve learnt that slower walking and talking is better. Now I’m not saying to walk and talk in slow motion. Just slightly do it slower. This way, you can play attention to your behaviors more. It can be really important to observe yourself. Not only that but in a world moving fast, walking slow makes you stand out. Also make sure when you speak, it’s clear. That way people can understand you and what you’re saying. Finally, let’s go over the way you dress. Wear outfits that make you feel good, stylish, and fit you well. If you want to wear an outfit, don’t shy away. Wear it if it makes you feel happy! When you wear an outfit that makes you confident, the outfit is even cuter. Don’t forget, have fun with fashion and experiment with pieces.

4. Self-worth!! You need to understand that you’re an absolute BLESSING on this Earth. You are here for a reason and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. There is not a single flaw in you. You see your insecurities? Yeah, well someone out there has them too. Just because you have a few insecurities, doesn’t mean that should bring your value down. You should bring your value up and add taxes by realizing your worth.

“It is far better to be alone, than to be in bad company.” - George Washington

Love you dolls sm!! Remember to always wear a smile and stay pretty 💋

Pinterest: Arielleslipgloss

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charliemwrites · 3 months

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Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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kitashousewife · 7 months

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“can you cancel my meeting for thursday?”

“sure, just let me-“ your eyes narrow at the laptop you had been typing on minutes earlier. “no, i can’t cancel that.”

sakusa pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“what’s the point of having an assistant if you can’t manage my schedule?”

his dig is meaningless, and you know it. it’s been a few months as his assistant and despite your best efforts, he’s been a tough egg to crack. lately though, he’s been a bit better about letting his personality shine through.

which is both a blessing and a curse.

“sakusa-“

“kiyoomi,”

“okay kiyoomi,” you roll your eyes. “i can’t cancel that and you know it. it’s way too close and besides, it will be good for you!”

about a month or so, sakusa and a couple other members of MSBY got asked to attend a sponsorship dinner. this dinner was much larger than the others, hosting almost five hundred of japans best athletes. it was going to be huge. since the day it got added to his schedule, sakusa has been trying to get out of it.

“im starting to not feel good,” sakusa comments, fidgeting with his water bottle in front of his kitchen counter that you’ve set up at.

“really? not feeling good enough to go out with bokuto-san tonight then, right?”

he huffs. “no, it’s not that bad.”

“great! then you can come on thursday.”

sakusa gives you an irritated glare, then groans. he gets even more annoyed when you don’t respond to that, either.

he shuffles over to the couch, flopping down to mess around on his phone. a few minutes pass by before he decides to speak up again.

“what if i just don’t show up?”

“then you can say goodbye to any sponsorships in the future, is that what you want?”

you turn around on the bar stool and face him. he won’t meet your eye, pouting from the couch. on one hand you understand. crowds aren’t really his thing, neither is pointless socialization and rubbing elbows in behalf of faux-support and the hope of donations. but, this would be really great for him and the others invited. a chance to see other sponsors, get their face out there while getting a free meal out of it.

“how about we make a compromise?”

“unless it involves me not going, im not interested.”

you stand up, walking over to his place on the couch. he moves his long legs to let you sit down.

“you need a new suit for this, that the team is paying for,” you add before he has a second to open his mouth. “how about tomorrow, we pick up a new one, get some new shoes, stop by the restaurant you like, and i’ll cancel the rest of your meetings for the week.”

this piques his interest. it’s only monday and each day has at least two, maybe three stupid meetings at some point. this is of course in addition to the two personal training sessions, practices, scrimmage, and psychical therapy appointments scattered around. a week off would be a dream come true.

sakusa hums. “fine.”

you smile, getting up to return back to your seat and start working on making calls to cancel the various extra things going on.

“see, now we both get what we want. i’ll move everything around now.”

“what would i ever do without you,” sakusa sighs, voice sarcastic and dry. you laugh, not thinking twice about it, but he means every word.

now all he needs to worry about is getting his suit, and asking you to be his plus one.

#sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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slttygeto · 10 months

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╰┈➤ 12:01 ⋆·˚ ༘ *geto suguru‧₊˚.

[forever n then some] ➛ in which suguru is nervous to propose to you.

this is stupid, he knows he shouldn’t be so nervous about this. it’s you, the love of his life, the one he swore to spend the rest of his days with—but the time has come to ask you to be his forever, and it’s terrifying.

he doesn’t have a big thing planned, and now it seems like such a stupid thing. couldn’t he have planned something instead of nervously pacing around your kitchen while you took a shower?

he waited until you were done with showering and got into a fresh set of pyjamas before he went to the bathroom, and you didn’t suspect anything when he walked past you without commenting on how good you smell. you figured he was waiting for you to do your face mask first.

he places the ring where you can’t find it easily, opens the door to your bathroom (you had one in your bedroom, god bless) and watches as you walk in.

“you didn’t poop?” you ask so casually, hands reaching to open the faucet to wash them before applying your face mask. he laughs a little at how comfortable you are with him, i mean you have been dating for five long years, and he couldn’t have asked for anything better.

“no, turns out the food didn’t really hurt my stomach.” suguru leans against the door frame and watches as you listen to him intently. you’ve always been like this with him, so patient and gentle. the perfect lover despite all the hardships you guys went through (which were a lot).

“oh, i was gonna make you a herbal tea before bed. are you sure your tummy is all good?” you worry so much, you care so much and you love so hard. he wishes he could hand you the world on a silver platter.

“positive.” is all suguru says before he goes back to watching the rest of your night time routine.

you both laugh at something he remembers, you describe to him what you’re doing and the entire time he’s just nervously eyeing the sparkly jewelry laying so close to you, yet you seem so unaware of its presence.

“you look a little tense though, are you sure your stomach is fine?” you wipe your hands after being done with everything, and suguru nods before crossing his arms over his chest.

“i’m fine, it’s just— i think, i see something over there,” he nods his head towards it, and you’re confused for a moment.

“something? is the sink dirty or—“ and suddenly, you can see very well what that something is.

it’s…gorgeous, you almost hesitate to grab it. your hands are shaking, and you’re looking back and forth between the ring and suguru’s mischievous yet nervous smile.

“is this…?”

“I would’ve loved to plan something, to take you somewhere fancy and get down on one knee but—“ he pauses for a moment, his warm hand holding your wrist to pull you towards him.

“it wouldn’t have felt like us. I am not saying you’re not worth me spending money on you, or planning out something big…but i wanted to do something intimate for us, is that okay?”

you can feel yourself tearing up the more he spoke, the way this was all so thought through in a careful manner—to ensure that it feels like a moment shared between you both at first, before announcing to the world that you were finally getting married.

you choke out a sob, and your boyfriend (now fiancé) is pulling you in his embrace. those are happy tears, and you knew you had to get them out of your system.

“oh baby, i love you,” you sniffle, still staring at the pretty ring. suguru takes it out of your hold before getting down on one knee on your bathroom floor.

“so, will you marry me?”

[ reblogs ↻ + comments are appreciated]

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk geto #jjk fluff #jjk season 2 #jujutsu geto

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cherryredstars · 7 months

Note

Hi! I really really love how you write for Simon. Like honestly it is so good. I saw that you're taking regular requests right now, so if it's okay could I request some jealous/insecurity headcanons or a oneshot (any format really) for Simon? Like maybe him and the reader are still working toward being more secure but there's still those moments where there needs to be some reassurance and a bit of comfort.

I just loved your cocky!Simon headcanons and I would love to see the progression of him getting to that point if you know what I mean lol.

Also congrats on 1k!! You deserve it!! I love your blog.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Insecurities, Mentions of Simon’s Trauma, Angst (???) with Comfort

Summary: He just needs a little reassurance sometimes.

A/N: I need to write for Simon more, I miss him!!

Word Count: 1.6K (Edited)

Simon’s been jealous before. Envious being a better word.

He used to be jealous of all the kids who had a loving home to go to. Jealous of peers with perfect parents and perfect siblings. Jealous of all the things he felt like he should have but couldn’t get. But this is a new kind of jealousy, a new insecurity. One so ugly and consuming that he feels particularly shameful of it.

He knows relationships, especially for him, are all about time. Everything is about time. Hell, he spent fucking months trying to come to terms with the fact that he liked you. Spent even more time building up the courage to ask you out on a date and begin a relationship with him. Add on to that the long hiatuses caused by deployment? This whole relationship is a slowly spinning clock.

But he’s here, a newly taken man with the kindest thing on his arm. He should be grateful, and he is grateful! Truely, undoubtedly grateful for the opportunity you have given him. But, he can’t help wanting more. From himself mostly, but also from you. And it frustrates him, frustrates him to no end because he knows he’s the reason why the both of you can’t have more. You have told him countless times, drilling it into his head like a daily affirmation that you’re okay with that. That would wait however long it took for Simon to get the hang of this. To fully comprehend what it means to be yours and how to navigate through it. And he is so blessed to have someone so understanding waiting up on him.

But he sees the difference. Sees the way how natural, how fucking easy it is for you to talk and interact with everyone else. Can see how easy it is for everyone else to interact with you. Things he can’t comfortably do yet. It makes a dark well of hatred form in his stomach because he can't understand why it has to be so hard for him. Why he got the shitty deal of cards, why he got the short end of the stick. He knows, realistically, that it's his fault. So what if his shitty family life and not so glory-filled military career played a part in it? It's still Simon’s own actions at the end of the day.

It’s fucking torture to watch the casual touches everyone lays on you. How easy it is for your friends to playfully shove your shoulder when you tell a joke, how they don’t hesitate to wrap you in a tight hug when you greet them, how they casually rest their chin or head on your shoulder and complain about everything that went wrong today. Fucking hates how confident people are as they try to flirt with you, how they could so easy articulate their attraction towards you in mere minutes when Simon can’t even do it in months. It makes him want to throw himself against a wall until his screwed up head fixes himself.

And you just look so happy. Smiling at your friends and returning the physical touches with ease. Face beaming with joy as you wrap someone in a hug or link their arm with yours. How you just fucking glow at the compliments given to you by your friends or a passing stranger in the street. He wishes so desperately that he could give you that, that he can casually walk into a room and tell you how fucking stunning you look instead of keeping it in his head. Wishes he could casually grab your hand without feeling like his skin was just dipped into a tub of acid. The only thing that keeps him together is your instant dismissal of anyone that tries to flirt with you, a proud look on your face as you say I have a boyfriend.

But he knows that it doesn’t look like it. Not when there is an obvious space between the two of you as you walk together. Not when he doesn’t make a single move to wrap his arm around you in a crowded space so you don’t get separated. He definitely screams boyfriend when he just watches someone come up to you and try to get into your pants instead of marking his claim on you. Safe to say, he doesn’t expect to find a Best Boyfriend Ever mug under the tree during the holidays this year.

He knows it pains you too. Can see it every time you instinctively go to grab him only to stop midway through and you give him a bashful smile. Sees how painfully obvious it is when he comes back from deployment and you and him stand outside the terminal gate awkwardly because you don’t know how to greet him if it isn’t with a tight hug. It’s painted all over your face when the both of you are at a group hangout with friends and you watch with an envious gleam in your eyes how the couples are squished into each other’s sides or sitting in their laps. A sharp pain runs through his chest when he can’t even drape his arm over your shoulders to comfort you. He knows that the small smile you give him when you turn towards him is because you know he won’t, even if he really wants to.

He hates that he can’t give you the simplest of things. Things that are supposed to be so natural in a relationship. Things that were promised to you when he asked you to be his partner. Things that make you so happy. He hates the idea that he’s robbed you of something. That something being a happy and normal relationship. That feeling builds and builds until he’s an insecure mess on your couch as you guys have a movie night.

You’re on opposite sides of the couch, something that makes him want to choke himself out. He’s spread out, arms thrown over the top of the sofa and legs spread. You’re pushed into the arm of the sofa, making sure none of your limbs touch him accidentally. He almost wants to throw up when the actors on screen run into each other’s arms and a small ‘aww’ leaves your lips with a dizzying smile. His hands clench and unclench as the movie ends. You sit up stretching and about to leave for a bathroom break before putting on the next movie when Simon speaks up.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head snaps to him quickly, a confused furrow forming in between your brows. You’re about to open your mouth to question him when he continues, “I’m trying, but…it’s hard.”

It’s not much of a clarification, but you still understand what he’s talking about. A sympathetic smile comes across your face as you approach him. This time, you sit next to him but still not touching him. A tenseness leaves Simon’s body, preferring you close by even if he can’t touch you. You’re fully turned to him, a look of admiration on your face as you study him. The look ignites his soul and that little well of hate dries up the tiniest bit.

“I know you have, and I’m so, so proud of you, Si.” The small tilt of your head and soft smile makes him want to nuzzle his face into your neck and shower you in his own praise. He knows he’s practically glowing from your words, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed.

“Still… I know how happy it would make you. Just… please.” He doesn't know when the lump formed in his throat, but he tries to subtly get rid of it.

The way you melt into the couch also makes him melt into the fabric. The two of you study each other for a moment, taking in each other’s presence. Slowly you get up and Simon moves to get up too, a moment of panic running through his veins before it dies away when you grab his empty mug from the coffee table. You give him another soft smile as you hold the cup tightly in your grasp.

“Of course, Simon. Thank you for trying. Thank you for wanting to try for me. That is what makes me happy”

You leave Simon there, excusing yourself to make him more tea and going to the bathroom. He sits and stares at the TV, a new feeling emerging in his chest. It pushes away the insecurity and that hatred and the jealousy. It expands until his own body is buzzy and a puff of air leaves him. Everything feels lighter, brighter now. This feeling is new. One so beautiful and consuming that he feels particularly at peace with it. Love, he thinks. He thinks it might just be love.

So when you come back to sit at his side, mindlessly blowing at the surface of his cup of tea before giving it to him, he lets the tips of his fingers purposely brush over yours. He holds your gaze, making sure you know it wasn’t an accident. A beaming smile forms on your face and he feels a smaller one form on the rim of his mug. He turns away then, sipping on his tea as you look for the next movie to put on.

He doesn’t touch you again that night. But it still made all the difference. That one, singular touch was worth everything.

The next night, he comes back to your apartment and stares down at the new mug that greeted him when he opened the cabinet. His finger rubs against the printed words with a lovesick smile.

Best Boyfriend Ever.

I ♡ Simon Riley mug when???

#ghost call of duty #ghost cod #call of duty #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cherry's requests🍒

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ghouljams · 7 months

Note

*Slides into the ask box*

Brief question here for you today, but did Ghost decide to ask Price's permission to marry Goose? I can see him wanting to do everything by the book and traditionally, but I can also see him respecting that Goose is her own woman and can make that decision for herself.

Ghost did ask permission in his own way! I like to think it was more important to Ghost than Goose to get the captain’s permission. For Ghost, Price is not just his captain, he's as close to a father figure as he can get, and past that Price is the person that dragged him back from the edge every time he walked too close. And, well, I'll just let you read it.

“You cannot be this scared of my daddy,” You cross your arms over your chest, watching Simon fuss with his boots by the door. He gives you a stern glare, and tugs his mask up to cover his face. You roll your eyes, “You served under him, isn’t this easier than tellin’ him a mission went sideways?”

Simon grunts, his way of saying he doesn’t want to talk about this. You’ll have to tell your dad eventually that you’re getting engaged, it’s not like he can find out at the wedding. Simon isn’t asking for your hand or anything, more getting your folks' blessing.

“That’ll do,” He grumbles and you throw your arms up. Christ you cannot be the one to tell your dad. As much as you think he’s warmed up to you and Simon dating you don’t think he’s exactly entertained the idea that Simon might become his son-in-law. If you tell your dad you’ll feel like you’re asking permission to marry Simon. That's not how you want to start your engagement. Simon catches your hand before you can start really working yourself up.

“This is important to me,” You tell him.

“I know,” His thumb rubs the back of your hand, soothing, “I’ll tell him.”

(Several months earlier)

“I’m gonna marry your daughter,” Ghost tells Price as they watch cattle file past. The sun is high in the sky, the horses are comfortably docile, and cicadas whirr loudly from the nearby trees. Price lowers his cigar between two careful fingers, eyes tracking the herd. He taps the ash against his boot to keep it away from the horse and off the grass. The air is still as both men seem to wait on the other.

“Goose know that?” Price asks finally. He knows as well as anyone that Ghost doesn’t make decisions lightly, and that once he does he isn’t likely to change his mind. More importantly he knows the man hardly thinks he’s worth being called human, let alone thinks about things like love and marriage.

“No,” Ghost tugs a cigarette box from his pocket and pulls one free with his teeth. Price sniffs, nudges his horse forward with his heels against its side, leaving Ghost to light his cigarette before he follows. It’s a beautiful day. The sort of day people paint when they don’t have a picture, clear blue skies and the wind rippling through the grass. Quiet too, y’know if you don’t count the bugs.

“So why’re you tellin’ me? Take it up with her.” Price spares him a glance as Ghost catches up, their horses meandering after the cows at a respectable distance. Ghost lowers his cigarette, exhaling smoke before pulling it back between his teeth.

“Because if you tell me not to, I won’t.” It’s the even honesty that makes Price pause. Ghost’s a good soldier, ruthless, efficient, fully tactically aware of his role as an instrument of violence. Some part of Price blames himself for that, for not doing enough to save Simon from compartmentalizing his humanity away after everything, for pushing Ghost to be the tool he needed him to be to take down the bad guys.

He doesn’t have to say anything more than that. If Price gives the order he’ll obey, even if it hurts you. Always a good soldier. He can’t do that to him, can’t do that to you. Not when he sees so much of himself in Ghost: the anger, the need for something(anything) to be right. That’s why he’d offered him a position at the farm in the first place.

“You’re a better man than you think you are Simon,” Price says finally, he powers through the questioning ‘Sir?’ from Ghost, “You make my girl happy, and if she heard you say that she’d tan your hide faster than any AQ could.”

“She would,” Ghost says with a touch of fondness in his tone.

“I trust her judgment, you just tell me if she says yes,” Price takes a long drag of his cigar, enjoying the fullness of smoke in his lungs before he lets it flow free with his exhale, “How’re the nightmares?”

Ghost is quiet for a long time, long enough Price wonders if he might’ve overstepped. There’s a long exhale, before Ghost answers. “Better with her.”

Price nods, “They always are.”

(Present)

“Goose said yes.” Ghost rolls a cigarette between his fingers, careful to compensate for the movement of the horse so he doesn’t lose the loose tobacco. Price sighs from his right. The wildflowers are starting to peak up through the grass. The ones the cows haven’t eaten are even blooming. Gaz is off corralling the cattle that’ve wandered too far from the herd, it’s a good time to talk if they want privacy.

“About damn time,” Price says after a moment, “Thought Goose was gonna drag your ass to the courthouse.”

“Sir?” Ghost looks up quickly from his work, his surprise nearly startling his horse.

"How long were you plannin' on pretendin' you weren't part of this family?" It's an honest question but it cuts deeper than Ghost had expected. Deep enough he doesn't fault Price the gentler tone he uses to ask it.

"Haven't even married 'er yet," Ghost grumbles.

"Know that's not what I'm talkin' about," Price leans back in his saddle, making himself as comfortable as he can watching the pasture, "'M proud of you son, don't make me hafta tell you that again."

Simon frowns to stop himself from making any other expression, and tugs his mask a little higher up his nose. It's a beautiful day, it would be a shame to ruin it by saying something stupid, or getting worked up over nothing.

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satoruhour · 8 months

Text

a/n: fluff today! about 1k <3 domestic mornings (afternoons) with satoru always my fav to write about. pls support this as much as my smut works ty 💟 !! / @crysugu @hyomagiri @satohruu @shotorus @greycaelum

by now, it’s late in the afternoon so much so that you’re sure the blinds are hot to the touch from the harsh rays of Amaterasu and her blessings of another bright, hot day. it’s normal in tokyo to wake up to warm sheets and a throat desperate for some water but you’ve learned to avoid it by setting an earlier alarm — take a morning shower, make some tea and grab a book.

satoru, not so much.

he likes to whine a lot when he first stirs, a plethora of sounds that leave him at how he can’t feel your warmth in his arms (“you’d be complaining even more about the heat if i was, you idiot.”), sometimes about the morning being too bright (“mister, it is twelve thirty-four right now.”) and mostly about sweat. today he decides to do all three.

gojo mumbles something incoherent when you accidentally nudge your legs into his, a childish whine how he missed you. “baby, i’m right h—”

“yeah, but . . oh, jesus christ,” his voice is awfully loud when he complains about the rays. “why is it so bright?”

“sun—”

and like always, in classic gojo satoru fashion, he never really lets you finish.

“oh eeewwugh . . i’m so sweaty,” your boyfriend has reached full consciousness by now and if it wasn’t the morning perhaps you’d think he was drunk from how dramatic he was being.

“you literally live in a penthouse, stupid, just go take a shower in one of your bathrooms.” and you go right back to your story. at the corner of your eye you can hear him pouting, crawling up to you and resting his chin on your thighs as he reads the synopsis of your book. satoru blows a raspberry, which you can feel on your hand and the spittle from his mouth makes you sigh; you think it’s due time to give your boyfriend some attention.

“story sounds boring,” you roll your eyes and put it to the side and the reveal of his stupidly cute face almost makes you cave. there’s a deep frown on his face because you’re insulting him so early in the morning and thinking your book is better than him, when really you’re just trying your best to reach your quota before book club saturday. eventually, you do give in after reading the starting sentences of chapter 18 over and over again and frankly digesting nothing, thinking only now of his body wash on your body.

it hasn’t exactly sunk in how you manage to be dating the gojo satoru, with all his cheeky smiles and inappropriate jokes (and timing too), that you are the only one to see him like this in the morning: all not what people says he is and yet he doesn’t hide it one bit from you. why is there any need to?

it’s you.

“don’t frown, ’toru,” you mumble, fingers that were previously turning pieces of paper now smoothen out the furrow of his eyebrows and the tautness of his expression. they’re soft against his skin, and while he’d like to commend it to the body wash he uses he thinks it’s just because it’s you. every inch of you is soft but not without good measure. you still stand up for yourself and sometimes your feet walk a little too much and he can feel the callouses on the balls of your feet when you accidently shock him under the duvet.

you are soft in the way you feel against him, whether it’s when you ask meekly for a kiss and when you hum under the scorching shower water as he lathers your body. you are soft when you laugh loudly and you have to squeeze his hand as you slap his back with the other, and other times soft as you chastise him for buying yet another big stock of your favourite strawberries.

soft is strong, attractive in satoru’s book, because even when your love resembles the first breath of hypnos, it still pulls and tugs and yanks at his heart to drown in you like a siren luring a sailor; right into the depths of the darkening sea where he’d let you take him anywhere even if it meant travelling blind.

“done sulking?” you asked as a mutter, hands now cupping his cheeks that possibly hold all of gojo’s cracks and insecurities and feelings together. they bring him up gently, sweaty back now quelled momentarily with a strong draft from the windows and it’s like his soul reaches the highest point of existence like he did eleven years ago.

you kiss him gently, lips moving in tandem with his as your hands lose themselves over his body and you huff in surprise when he straddles you. long body hunching over yours as you chase his lips like riko after stingrays and you both after suguru and him after a reformed jujutsu society and—

“whew.” is all he says when he pulls away and you’re equally out of breath and gojo swiftly switches your positions. there’s a big grin on his face from the attention you finally give him, “you love me, huh?”

you roll your eyes again at the stupid, harmless comment, shutting him up effectively when you lean down again and kiss him rougher this time, feeling his wet palms span the expanse of your back and up your shirt. gojo sits up and you follow like choreography, moaning softly when he tugs you closer and suddenly you think you should’ve made yourself a cup of cold tea instead.

“i love you,” it’s a whisper against your lips and you have influenced so much of satoru that he is also soft, “i love you so goddamn much.” you nod back, pulling away lightly and you swear you see okinawa again in his irises. they look just as beautiful as the day he lost his youth and gained wisdom and you still love him the same.

“i love you more than my book, promise.” you quip, forehead against his and eyes mapping out each lagoon to pond to sea in the multiplying blues of his eyes — they seem only to do that when he’s with you.

“you better!” he laughs softly into your mouth and he can taste the tiramisu from yesterday on your lips, and you can taste his intoxicating smile. the absence of you, the sunlight and the heat doesn’t matter much to satoru now, and will settle for being soft in the sheets of cloud nine. satoru will make you forget about the tea you’ve woken up early to make and all the nuances of the characters of your book and maybe the slowly rotting strawberries (you might still eat them).

“you better . .” it’s like a plea the way he repeats it but his doubts are silenced once you mumble i do against his skin like a promise, a vow, and satoru then decides he cannot wait to see you from across an aisle.

yeah, soft laced white would look terribly beautiful on you.

♡

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk drabbles #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru drabble #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo headcanons #gojo x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months

Note

throwing up bc i can’t stop thinking about dealer!remus and r high and spending new years together bc they just want it to be them two and them being each others new years kiss and using that as a way to make a move on each other bc they were too scared to do anything before pleaSe sedate me

No because why didn’t I have a dealer!remus to kiss me breathless for the new year??!

There’s a frog in your throat. There usually isn’t when you’re alone, but there always seems to be a lump in your throat when you’re with Remus that no amount of affection for him will lessen.

In fact, it seems that the more affection you harbor for him the bigger the lump grows.

You’re sitting on his sofa, in a sparkly New Year’s Eve midi dress and tall socks that are hidden under a fleece blanket.

Remus is in dark slacks and a white shirt- both outfits remnants of the party you’d both escaped from.

“Sure you don’t want a sweater, dove?” Remus asked as he’d undid his tie and honestly, a sweater would’ve been so much worse than suffering in your sequin dress that’s scratching the sliver of skin exposed of your thighs.

“The blanket’s fine, Remmy,” you’d promised, mostly because the idea of being in a sweater that smelled exactly like Remus- a little like his detergent, his citrus and pepper perfume and weed, would’ve made you even more of a mess.

Currently, you’ve got a blunt hanging from your lips, content to have the smoke billow from your mouth and around your head.

Remus is halfway done with his own, watching you mostly as he lets the last bit of the weed burn out.

“There’s something wrong with my hands, Remus.” You say, and he supposes that there should be more urgency in your words, but you get this even softer, mushy quality about you when you’re high that makes every thought seem like nothing.

“What’s wrong with them?” He asks, turning his body so he’s facing you. Your knees knock as you turn to him too.

“Can’t move them,” the blunt almost falls from your lips, and truly your arms feel like lead. Remus catches it before it falls, holding it close to your mouth in case you still want a pull. “Thanks.”

You’re always earnest and shy, but it only seems to become that much more endearing when you smoke, and Remus finds he loves it even more.

The way every word sound wistful, the way your eyes blink up at him slowly like you’re trying to stare at him for as long as possible.

“You’re really pretty, Remus. Which is strange for men,” you say it thoughtfully, like you’ve been thinking it forever.

You’re not sure why you can’t stop talking, or ally you’ve a lot less words to use; but tonight it seems resolutions have come earlier.

“Yeah?” Remus smiles as you nod and take a drag before exhaling.

“Yeah, and your lips, they’re so pretty.” If your hands were working you’d probably reach out to touch the thin scar that slices through his lip, but right now you can’t and maybe it’s a blessing.

Unconsciously, you lean into Remus some more, your thigh covering his knee.

“You’ve got a better pair, pretty girl.” Remus insists and your eyes widen. It’s funny that you seem to find the compliment unhinged.

The distance closes some more.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly, you and Remus are almost lip to lip, noses brushing.

“Yes, dovey,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours and before he can even ask, you close the distance.

The kiss is shy, an experimental press and then you pull back. Remus doesn’t let you get far and sets the blunt into the ashtray before grabbing the back of your neck to pull you back to him.

It’s a kiss not like what you’d expected; Remus tastes like weed, but there’s something else and it fogs your head even more than the high grade you’d just been smoking.

The kiss is slow but deep, a dance Remus leads with ease. His fingers tangle in your hair to keep you in place and yours finally seem to work again and climb the back of his shirt.

“Happy New Year, dove.” He pulls away and is almost as breathless as you are, the light of the fireworks being set off brightening the window behind you.

“Happy New Year, Rem,” you hide your face in his chest when you catch your breath and Remus chuckles. “Dunno why you’re laughing. Can’t kiss a girl like that and not expect her to get flustered.”

That only makes him laugh even more. Remus’ hands rub down your back.

“You’d get flustered if I only looked at you baby, let’s not pretend.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x high!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #dealer!remus #dealer!remus lupin

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull.

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all.

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal.

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural.

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios.

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal.

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline?

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up.

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!”

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house.

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment.

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter.

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents.

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?”

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh.

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest.

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark.

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse.

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt.

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.”

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’”

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it.

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment.

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself.

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair.

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades.

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek.

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night.

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice.

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone.

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well.

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background.

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong.

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash.

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter.

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes.

Dad’s home.

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like.

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen.

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time.

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously.

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured.

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor.

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried.

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.”

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.”

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin.

But John didn’t care.

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you?

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form.

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present.

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.”

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe.

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen.

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose.

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling.

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.”

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could.

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation.

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street.

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut.

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?”

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl. “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn

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phoxey · 2 months

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French toast

Bada Lee x fem!reader

CW: none :3 this is pure fluff

AN: sorry for the long absence, and sorry that this is so short, but i promised a comeback, I am still struggling to write, but it's better than nothing.

I love writing, but like in any relationships there are ups and downs. and in such down phases love is hard work. But it's worth it in the end.

Valentines Day was approaching, and this would be the first time, that you wouldn’t spend the day with Bada. You two have been a couple for a few years now and she would always make Valentines Day special. This year Bada happened to be in a dance workshop on the other side of the world for a few weeks, missing Valentines Day. You tried to talk to her every day, but time zones were against you. When she was going to bed, you were waking up, and when you were going to bed, she was waking up. You only had a small timeframe for talking, and her schedule was tight. She thought you wouldn’t notice, but she woke up earlier and stayed up late just to talk to you. You wanted to scold her for it, but on the other hand you were also grateful for every minute you got with her.

You woke up to several messages from Bada, which she sent, when she knew it was midnight in Korea. It was some silly memes, asking you out to be her valentine, but with them came a long voice message.

“Good morning, beautiful. I hope you had the most wonderful sleep and the sweetest dreams. Maybe you even dreamt of us? I know, I always do. Especially when we are apart like this. I dream of holding you in my arms, your head on my chest, while we watch our favorite shows. It’s cheesy, I know. I really can’t wait for this moment to come. I will probably be at work when you listen to this. And everything I am about to say, I could have also written in a letter, but I wanted to say those things directly, so you can hear the sincerity in my voice. I want to tell you, how I feel. I am so very madly in love with you, it drives me crazy to not be with you for every minute of the day. Every day my love for you grows. How that is possible? I don’t know. Every day I seem to invent a new kind of infinity. I have been looking at your pictures a lot more these past few days, and since day one your beauty keeps striking me over and over again. I know you still can’t see what I see, but I swear to me you are the most beautiful woman on earth. I wish I could kiss every spot you are insecure about and make that feeling go away. I love all of you. You are truly beautiful inside and out. You are just perfect for me. To have such a kind, hardworking and understanding woman in my life, and to be able to call you mine, is truly the greatest blessing I have ever received. I love you.”

From the first word on, tears shot into your eyes. You were too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Just as you were trying to formulate a good answer, the doorbell rang. Confused, you walked to the apartment door and opened it. A giant bouquet of your favorite flowers stood in a vase on the ground. It was arranged in the form of a heart. You had to chuckle, this was so cheesy, but that was what you loved about your girlfriend. She always did and say cheesy things, but somehow it was never cringe.

“I see I am arriving in time.”, a familiar voice said.

You looked to the side and saw Lusher and Tatter walking up to your door, both of the carrying a suspicious number of bags.

“Good morning!”, you smiled. “What are you two doing here?”

Lusher and Tatter were grinning at each other for a moment. “We are playing Cupid.”, Tatter answered.

Inside, you put the bouquet on the dining table, as the girls sat down in the living room. You joined them after a moment, bringing them coffee.

You eyed the bags; your heart was racing.

“So!”, Lusher began, and Tatter got her phone out, to begin filming. “Your special someone instructed us to give you your Valentines Day presents. She is very sorry that she can’t be with you right now, but she still wants to make sure you are being spoiled on this special day. Like you deserve.”

You opened the first bag, inside was a shoebox. You recognized immediately what kind of shoes they were. The Nike Jordan 1s you had been wanting for a while now. You took them out to look at them. Suddenly something fell out of them. It was a polaroid photo. It was a mirror selfie of Bada pointing at her feet. She was wearing the same shoes.

The second bag was bigger but softer. Slowly you pulled out, what was inside. It was two pieces of clothing. Firstly, it was one of Badas pants, you always stole, when she made the mistake of wearing them to your apartment. The second item was one of her oversized hoodies. It even smelled like her parfum.

Speaking of it, the last bag was a little smaller. Inside were two things. One you recognized as your favorite parfum, which Bada also loved on you. Whenever you wore it, she stayed at your side, not leaving you for longer than one minute. But there was also a second parfum bottle. You sprayed it on your wrist and immediately the smell of Bada filled your nose. It was her parfum. Smelling it almost made you tear up. You missed her so much. Maybe spraying this onto her hoodie and your pillow would ease the pain of her not being with you finally.

With each present your smile got bigger and your giggles more frequent. Tatter smiled just as wide as she filmed your reaction.

“Do you like it?”

You spun around and there she was. Her tall frame leaning against the wall with her shoulder. Hands in her pockets. She wore her finest dress shirt and tie. She looked so beautiful. Tears welled up in your eyes as you ran into her arms.

“Happy Valentines Day, baby.”, she whispered and kissed on top of your head, as you buried your face in her neck, sobbing.

“I thought you couldn’t come for another week.”, you muttered against the skin of her neck, placing delicate kisses onto her pulse.

“I wanted to surprise you. Did you really think I can spend Valentines Day without my forever Valentine?”

Bada mouthed a thank you to the two other girls, who just winked at her and left the apartment, grinning.

“We have so much to talk about! I have so much tea for you! And you have to tell me all about your trip and your workshop!”, you said excitedly.

Bada smiled fondly at you and laced your fingers. Tenderly, she pressed her lips to your knuckles.

“Sounds good. How about we talk, while I make some French toast?”

#bada lee #bada lee swf #bada lee x reader #swf #swf2 #team bebe

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oleander-nin · 4 months

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Yandere ROTTMNT Vampire Headcanons

A/N, not important: I am so sorry this is so late. I haven't been doing very well lately. I have one more vampire thing in the works, and I'm also going to start getting as many of my requests done as possible. Feel free to ask questions if you need clarification or want a certain thing answered. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Food insecurity, withholding of food, vampires, bites, dark themes, violence, yandere

Words: 1696

Summary: Yandere ROTTMNT Vampire Headcanons

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay

Michelangelo:

Mikey tries to hide it from you for a while, mostly because he doesn’t want you to be aware of his added abilities. He thinks it’s just funny now when you try to plot an escape or fight back, since now you really have no chance. Most likely, you never even realized he was a vampire until he first sinks his fangs in your wrist.

He thinks biting you is like, subtly romantic since you’re more or less blessing him with your blood. You’re allowing him to live off your own life, and it just pulls him further into his delusions of love. Obviously you’d fight back harder if you truly hated him. I mean, so far, he only has to chain you down!

Mikey will constantly talk about your future with him. Now that he’s going to live forever, he knows he actually means it when he says he’s never leaving your side. He’ll track down the original mutant to get them to infect you, ensuring that you’ll be with him until the sun goes out. He’s absolutely giddy at the thought, updating you every day on his hunt for the mutant until he finds them.

Before he can infect you, he’s even clingier than before. His skin always feels cold now, so he’s drawn to your natural warmth and just likes to be near you.

Watches you sleep a lot as he lays with you. Now that he can see in the dark, he doesn’t want to waste a single moment where he could be admiring you.

Once he finally turns you, he’s ecstatic. His only grief is that he can’t feed from you any more, but he’s plenty happy with the certainty you’ll never be able to leave him.

If you complain about being turned, he’ll get upset. He did this for you! He ensured both of you would be together forever more, and now you’re being ungrateful. He’ll pout for a while, trying to convince you of all the ways your life is better now.

He’ll withhold blood from you if you misbehave. Because you obviously can’t hunt yourself, you rely on Mikey to get you your food. If he thinks you’re being unfair, or aren’t listening, he’ll conveniently ‘forget’ to get enough food to feed you as well.

He gets surprised when you fight back more after being turned, your enhanced strength and speed making him question his choice for a small while. He doesn’t like that you have a better chance of leaving now. He obviously wins, but he’s afraid he’ll slip up and you’ll get away. He keeps you chained tighter for a while, at least until you’ve calmed down. No matter how long that takes.

Donatello:

He doesn’t tell you of his new infection, but he doesn’t hide it either. It’s just another mutation to him, one that’s more beneficial in a lot of ways once he realizes how much more he can do. He doesn’t really see why he should tell you, especially when you’re fighting him at every turn anyways. You’ll probably find out after seeing him storing blood bags in the fridge in his lab, which causes you to freak out.

Once you’re aware he’s a vampire, he’ll start feeding off you more since he finds it more convenient than going out. He likes holding you and just sinking his teeth into your shoulder while he works. It keeps you both still and close, and it prevents him from having to find his own food. He claims the prolonged contact helps you both bond whenever you try to fight him.

Donnie is obsessed with getting you infected as well. He’s terrified of losing you somehow now that he knows he doesn’t ever have to. He’ll hunt down the original mutant to get you bit, not even telling you of his plan until you’re already bit. He doesn’t want to give you a chance to try something stupid before he’s able to secure your place by his side, even if he knows he won’t be able to feed on you anymore.

He has two new punishments for you now that you joined him in the undead. While he isn’t afraid to withhold blood from you for misbehaving, he’s more likely to either force feed you normal food, which tastes awful and can make you nauseous, or he’ll only give you human blood. Both options leave you paranoid with the blood/food he gives you. If you ever try to refuse what he gives you, he’s not afraid to force it down your throat himself.

Threatens to give you blood from your family or friends if you continue to try and cause problems. While he wouldn’t ever really want to actually give you blood from a loved one, he’s not above lying and telling you the blood you're drinking is from them.

The new strength and speed you gain from being turned makes Donnie paranoid. Theoretically, you now have a better chance at escaping. To negate this problem, Donnie makes you wrist and ankle weights to slow you down. At least, until you give him a reason to slow you down permanently.

Raphael:

Raph only feeds off you when he’s too tired to go find his own food. He’s paranoid he’ll drain you, even when his brothers insist it’s impossible. He doesn’t see a reason to feed off you when he has a supply of animal blood at the ready. The difference in taste isn’t a big thing to him, and he doesn’t mind having to find his own food while he’s out. The sewers have plenty of small critters living around.

He’s terrified of hurting you. Raph knows he’s strong, and he’s not always the most sure footed because of his large size. When he accidentally hurt you before, he would coddle you for weeks, but now that he’s nearly twice as strong normally? He knows he’s going to have a lot of accidents, so he practically babies you until he’s adjusted to his new strength. He doesn’t care how suffocating you say he’s being, he refuses to let you be hurt when you don’t need to be.

Waits till you're older to turn you. He wants you to stay human for as long as possible. While he knows turning you would be beneficial as you’d be less likely to get hurt, he doesn’t like the idea of taking your humanity until he has to. Refuses to argue about turning you when he finally does. He mentions it once and doesn’t care how much you protest. He’s let you stay human for years longer than needed. You should be thanking him in his eyes.

Likes to hold you a lot more. He’ll keep you in his arms as he moves from room to room, or be cuddling you whenever you’re both alone. Having you with him forever makes him so happy, and he doesn’t want any time to go by without you feeling loved, or how he perceives loving you anyways.

Hates you when leave his sight. Now that you’re faster and stronger, he’s afraid you’ll do something stupid and try to run. He sees keeping you near him as him protecting you from yourself.

Doesn’t let up on his protective behavior, even though you’re now tougher. He’s not taking any chances with you and your safety. Any plea to leave and go outside is instantly shut down. You’re no longer human, you don’t need to go up top anymore. Your place is with him, forever.

Leonardo:

He doesn’t tell you until he feels it’ll help him. He likes having the extra strength you won’t know about, at least until telling you benefits him. If you’re throwing a fit or have refused to talk to him for a while, he’ll flash his fangs and threaten to drain you until you pass out. After you know, he’ll constantly remind you of his heightened senses and strength. He doesn’t want you to forget how hard it will be to ever leave his side.

Is always a bit worried he’ll get too rough with you and hurt you more than he means to. His upgraded strength makes him more confident, but he doesn’t always remember how much strength he gained. Even as he teases you, he’s hesitant to actually try and mess with you in case he goes too far.

Dry bites a lot. He likes just sinking his fangs in your shoulder while he holds you close, liking the fact you’ll have the imprint of his teeth in your skin for a while. He doesn’t like to feed from you, since it makes him feel like a parasite, but he likes to see the faces you make when he touches the holes his teeth made in your skin.

Waits a while to turn you, mostly because he knows you’ll be able to run faster if you ever do get away. Before he turns you, he’ll start keeping you locked away more. He’ll have you turned while you’re asleep so you don’t even know what happened. In Leo’s opinion, the less you know about this, the better.

He’s ecstatic now that you’re going to be by his side forever. His worst nightmare was losing you, and now he’ll never have to worry about that again. You don’t have to worry about most diseases, death, or being alone now that you have him. Leo treats turning you like a huge favor, ignoring the fact he knows you never wanted it. He plays off hiding it like it was a surprise.

Pretty much solely feeds you animal blood at first, only giving you human if he feels you’re acting out too much. He doesn’t tell you of the change, but he knows it tastes different, and you do too. He doesn’t want to mess with your food too much, since blood is now the only thing you can consume.

If you ever do escape, he’ll probably go straight to an extreme now. You’re stronger, and you're more agile due to the mutation, which makes you harder to contain. He’s not willing to lose you, even if it means hurting you.

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heliads · 1 year

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Hellloooo!!! I don’t wanna add to your workload so if this just piles on, please delete it! 😅😊 I just had an idea for a newt x reader fic where they’re in an established relationship in the Glade and during a bonfire one night the boys all ask newt questions about what it’s like to date reader and how it feels and newt just answers with the upmost sweetness. Reader overhears and fluff ensues!!!!

fluff ensues has got to be one of my favorite plot descriptions. like yeah it absolutely will do that (and no worries, nothing will stop the workload from being! newt just helps make it better <3)

masterlist

Newt is aware that he is a little bit luckier than most. This is a sentiment that he never thought he’d be caught dead believing. Not in the Glade. Not in the Maze. Not anywhere in this surreal mess of a place. Yet it’s on repeat in his head on a day to day basis nonetheless, ticking off the hours like an alarm clock consisting solely of his blessings.

Newt didn’t think he’d have that much to brag about. No memories means no history he can mention to his equally luckless friends. Still, he’s got one important victory in his life that no one else can even dream of, and that’s the fact that he’s dating Y/N. Yeah, that certainly sets him apart in the world of good things given to kids who can’t quite convince themselves they deserve them.

Some would say that Newt is being a little dramatic. He would argue that his response is perfectly within reason. One girl has been sent up in all the months that anyone’s been in the Glade, one girl and one girl alone, and she just happened to choose him. Around here, that’s grounds for being nominated for sainthood.

Newt isn’t going to act like he’s not just over the moon every time he thinks about the whole situation. Against all odds, Y/N fell in love with him. That’s so unreal that Newt has to pinch himself every hour on the hour just to make sure it isn’t a dream. He never tries too hard, though. Just in case.

He didn’t have many thoughts on love before she came up. There wasn’t really time now, was there? It was just him and the scores of other stragglers making do in their bloody terrible world. You don’t spend much time lingering over potential sweethearts when the closest thing to a Romeo is Gally yelling at everyone in the Glade except his friends.

Not great dating material, to say the least. Even when Y/N came up that one month, though, he still hadn’t fallen for her from the start. He liked her, obviously, she was nice and didn’t test his patience, but he was perfectly content to keep her as a friend, just that. Great expectations have a way of letting you down. Newt’s learned that if you keep your eyes on the ground, stop looking up at the sun and stars, you’ll be able to deal with it a little easier when all your brightest aspirations go away.

He’d done that before and he planned on doing it again. Even as time passed and he realized that his heart had a funny way of speeding up whenever she was nearby, when it occurred to him that his daily routines always had a way of working in chances to see her, Newt forced himself to ignore everything. Maybe he liked the way the morning sunlight always played on Y/N’s face, maybe he could have spent hours wondering over the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs. It was nothing that he could ever commit to treasuring above anything else.

It took several rounds of self-talk and about a dozen different interventions staged by his friends for Newt to get up the courage to tell Y/N how he felt. Hell, it took at least half of those interventions for him to even admit how he felt to himself. Newt had been internalizing for so long that bringing some of those emotions to the forefront of his attention was damned near impossible. Minho, Alby, and a few others, however, were so sick of seeing him ‘mope around like a lovesick fool,’ to quote them specifically, that they were dedicated to the task of getting him in order.

It worked, too. Newt had run through what could have been a hundred speech variations in his head, all mentioning her character or her sense of humor or any one of the millions of things he liked about her best. In the end, he didn’t choose a single one. The second Newt pulled Y/N away from a crowd of their friends for ‘something he needed to say in private,’ every single whirlwind of thoughts storming through his head came to an abrupt stop. He totally blanked out.

Newt wouldn’t even know that he managed to force any words out at all were it not for the fact that the effects of that interaction are quite obvious. Somehow, Y/N ended up returning his affections, and they’ve been doing pretty well ever since. Newt doesn’t like counting his eggs before they hatch and all that, but he’d go so far as to say that he doesn’t see it ever breaking down for quite some time, if ever. They’re alright. They’re great, and they’re happy, and in a place like this, you take that and run with it for as long as you can. Maybe it’ll ruin itself someday, but Newt plans on pushing that off to the distant future for forever and a day.

In the meantime, Newt gets to think about how lucky he is. Despite the fact that Y/N’s apparently been crushing on him for just as long as he started liking her, and despite the fact that Frypan proclaims on a daily basis that he’s never seen two shanks more alike, Newt still feels like all of this is just one great coincidence. Maybe it was never supposed to happen, but it did, and he’s going to love that and her for as long as he can.

She’s waiting for him now, he thinks. Work is over for the day, and there’s a Bonfire Night happening this evening too, courtesy of the shivering Greenie fresh out of the Box who still can’t seem to keep his shock from showing. The fool to whom this celebration is owed looks like he’s going to keel over, what from the way he keeps half doing a backbend from continually craning his neck up to stare at the Walls, but the rest of them can get drunk and fuck around and generally have a good time.

Greenies never appreciate their Bonfire Nights enough anyway. It’s up to the rest of the Gladers to show them what it’s like to have fun. Who knows the next time they’ll be able to stop stressing over the ruins of their lives anyway? Newt’s heard half a dozen Gladers proclaim that they only live bonfire to bonfire anyway. They might as well prove it tonight.

Newt meets Y/N on the outskirts of the bonfire just as the dark starts to fall. Dusk kicks up its heels, keeping watch over the revels and hiding the sun, which can never bear to see whatever mistakes they’re going to make next. Y/N holds out a hand to him, one Newt gladly accepts.

“I can’t believe it’s been six months now since I first showed up,” she grins, gesturing towards the Box with her free hand, “Feels like just yesterday.”

Newt snorts. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh? Trust me, the Greenie Days get faster and faster. I swear I just finished touring the last kid, and now we’ve got another one to keep pestering us with questions.”

Y/N shakes her head, considering this. “Nah, I think this one will be better. He’s too scared to speak above a whisper. If you try, you can just ignore him.”

Newt chuckles. “I’m not supposed to be bullying the Greenies. Alby says I’m meant to set a good example.”

“I saw Alby telling Minho to trip the new kid to see if he’d finally make a sound if he bit the dirt,” Y/N comments, “I don’t think kindness is really in our books.”

Newt arches a brow. “I could see that happening. Did it work?”

“No,” Y/N says, disappointed, “Kid was so scared to move a muscle that he didn’t fall at all. Just kind of stopped walking like he’d hit a wall instead of Minho’s ankle.”

Newt tries to bite back a smile. He’s only half successful. “Shame. That would have been fun to see.”

Y/N laughs. “That’s what I said. Anyways, they’re all over there, near the fire. I think the next strategy is to give the kid some of Gally’s brew in the hopes that it’ll coax something out of him other than his dinner.”

Newt shudders. “Best of luck to him.”

“And to me,” Y/N replies, “I think I’m going to get a glass of my own. See you in a second.”

Newt waves a casual hand in goodbye, watching as his girlfriend weaves through the steadily forming crowds of Gladers in an attempt to track down a drink. He takes a seat near an overturned log, staring into the fire as it disappears into sparks. Six months since Y/N appeared in the Box, so it’s been indeed.

Newt can’t decide whether that feels like a long time or not nearly long enough. Y/N’s changed him in almost every way, that much is obvious. Sometimes, in meeting someone you know will impact you forever, you almost want them to have been around for much longer. Strangers aren’t meant to become your best friends, not until you’ve known them for years and you have scores of memories to share. You want to give them decades in your mind, centuries, as a sign that they’ve been so important to you. Mere months aren’t enough. Surely it should be more.

It isn’t, and maybe that’s for the best. Newt has no memories save for when he came up his own share of months ago. All his friends are new, all his enemies still more recent. Maybe the girl he loves has only been in his life for a short time, but his recorded life is short indeed. Everything is modern. That’s just how it is.

Newt becomes aware of eyes on him and realizes that he might not be the only one reminiscing about when Y/N came up in the maze. A few Gladers have come up by Newt’s side, steadily appearing out of the gloom and smoke to stare at him.

Newt glances at them questioningly, and a few moments later the bravest of them dares to voice their collective thoughts. “What’s it like dating Y/N?” The boy asks, “you know, since she’s the only girl?”

Newt smiles to himself. “It’s great,” he says.

This clearly isn’t the response the other boy wants. “Yeah,” he repeats, “but what’s it like? It’s not like the rest of us have our own girlfriends to compare it with.”

Newt bites back a laugh. “Well,” he begins, noticing out of the corner of his eyes that the other boys draw closer to him expectantly, “it’s like having a best friend, but even better. She’s someone I can talk to at any time, but I don’t have to worry about seeming uncool or weird around her. Y/N knows exactly who I am, the good and the bad, but she’s chosen to be with me anyway. It makes you feel like you can do anything.”

The boy nods, accepting this. “Are you ever worried that she’s going to get tired of you and leave you for someone else?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m worried about competition,” Newt says slowly, “I’d say, don’t think you even have a chance. She’s my girlfriend, you bloody shank, not some object you can steal away. Anyway, obviously I’d like it if she stayed with me a while longer, but I’m not scared, no. I know that we’re happy, and that’s enough.”

The boy’s face flushes scarlet when Newt calls him out, but he seems to have made his peace with it at the end. Newt’s half expecting more questions, but all of a sudden they scatter to the corners of the celebration. A few moments later, the cause of the disturbance becomes obvious: Y/N herself takes a seat next to him, glass in hand.

“It seems like you had a score of admirers,” she says, lips twitching up into a smile.

Newt groans. “More like your admirers, trust me. They wanted to ask about what it was like to date you. Not something I thought I’d be discussing with the Slicers-in-training, but why not?”

Y/N laughs. “Oh, I know. I have to say, though, it was very sweet. Being with me makes you feel like you can do anything?”

Newt feels his entire face heat up, and he briefly ponders launching himself into the fire to escape it. “I didn’t realize you were eavesdropping. That’s rude, you know.”

Y/N just grins. “I do apologize. It was very sweet, though. I appreciated it.”

Newt rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep a smile off of his face for long. “Does that mean you won’t leave me for some random boy who showed up a few months ago?”

“I’ll consider it,” she assures him, “like you said, though, I wouldn’t worry much. I happen to like being with you quite a bit as well.”

Newt reaches over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. Y/N leans her head on his shoulder, and they stay there for quite some time, watching the embers of the fire curl into ribbons of smoke up in the darkest reaches of the sky. The bonfire dances, their friends shout and clap and laugh all around them, and through it, they keep going. All is well.

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

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charliedawn · 9 months

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Hi! I have a request! (I won't be mad if you choose not to write it, you do you)

Since the slashers can't leave the facility, how would they take you on a date? I feel like Freddy would take you on a date in your dreams, etc. Please include Penny! He's my favorite!!! Love your work, and hope you have a blessed day! ❤️

Penny would make a whole world appear just for you. He is not as powerful within the hospital as he’d normally be, but he could still make a pretty good illusion for you.

He’d probably make you see what you want and make sure you have as much fun as possible. He’d dig into your head for all of your most personal desires.

He’d also take as many opportunities to know you better and satisfy his curiosity as to why you’d ever want him too.

Penny *tilts his head curiously at you* : "Humans are so odd. Your hearts beat so loudly when you are afraid…But, yours has a different sound to it."

You *surprised* : "Really ? How does it sound ?"

Him *presses his ear against your chest to hear it closer and closes his eyes* : "…Different." *giggles* "Good different."

Arts and crafts. Jason love carving wood and making bird houses. He brought his passions with him when he first entered St Louis. He’d be excited to show you his masterpieces and show you how to do it.

You’d be sitting side by side while using your hands to try multiple different shapes, but would be careful as to not let you get hurt with the knife when you’d try to carve things.

Jason *smiles proudly while showing you his last wooden piece of work*

Jason isn’t comfortable sharing anything about himself so…It’d be a huge honour. He’d also show you his collection of frogs and let you pet them if you want.

He’d also hold your hand and show you his face if you’d want.

Jack is a pretty standard guy when it comes to dating. He was kind of the popular kid and did date a lot in his younger years.

He’d normally go for the classic cinema and restaurant. But, as he is trapped in the hospital…He’d do with what he’s got.

Netflix and chill.

He’d ask the other slashers not disturb the both of you as you take over the TV room and eat snacks together.

Jack *pretending to be yawning before lowering his arm over your shoulders to caress the skin with his thumb*

You *smile knowingly* : "Really ?"

Him *smiles and shrugs* : "…Hey. Am a big fan of the old technics…is it working ?"

You *smile before leaning back against him* : "~Maybe."

Pennywise would let you drag him anywhere, but he’s the type to not like big crowds so…the fact that he can’t go out won’t really be a problem.

He’d be just as happy staying inside and have some time with you. But, don’t expect him to have many date ideas.

Pennywise never dated anyone before, so he’d just let you decide or let you sleep on his lap. Tops.

However, he may sing you to sleep.

And his voice is really soothing when he hums while rocking back and forth on his rocking chair.

Pennywise *starts humming while holding you close and stroking your hair*

You : "…I thought you didn’t like people touching you ?"

Him *smiles* : "Guess you must be the exception, huh dollface ?"

Norman is a gentleman. He’d be holding you and gently swing you back and forth in his arms.

He’d be dancing a waltz with. Or cooking you a good meal. His mother taught him how to be a good cook and to always be as respectful and nice as he can be.

So, he’d also be the type to buy you dinner and buy scented candles and roses for the occasion. And he’d always ask you if you’d had a good time at the end.

Norman *holding you close* : "Was it alright ?"

You *smile and wrap your arms around his waist* : "Perfect."

He’d then smile and let out a relieved sigh.

Norman was taught to be perfect. He would be devastated if you didn’t have fun or didn’t enjoy your time with him.

Freddy can date. But, the dates he went on in the past weren’t exactly heartfelt. He just never got emotionally connected with someone enough to care.

So, he’d try simple at first.

Freddy would either invite you to get a drink or offer to take a look at his garden. Let’s not forget he used to be a gardener. So, he does love flowers.

He’d then wait until it gets dark to ask you if you want him to try something on you.

Freddy never used his powers for anything else than pain or to kill. So, he’d be nervous when first trying to think of the perfect dream date.

Freddy *smiles nervously before taking your hand* : "Trust me ?"

You *smile back* : "Always."

He’d then get inside your head and put his plan into motion. He’d be careful not to hurt you of course and try to make it as perfect as he can.

Because he knows you trust him. And that is something Freddy never got from anyone but the kids he used to love…before they betrayed him.

Bo : "…Beer ?"

Bo is a simple man. It’d normally be a truck ride and drinking beer while looking at the sky, or at whatever is around.

But, as he can’t really leave the facility…he’d just ask you to join him in the courtyard of the hospital to have some s’mores and look up at the sky.

No conversation necessary. But, he’d be happy either way.

Bo : "Thanks fer…Ya know…Sayin’ yes to the whole thing…"

You *smile and shrugs* : "No need. Believe it or not…I like hanging out with you, Bo."

Bo *is stunned before chuckling and handing you a cold drink of your choice* : "Whatever you say, darlin’…"

Bo would be happy to hear it, even if he wouldn’t believe it at first.

Because Bo has always been the failure of his family.

So, why would you ever like his company ? But, he’d let himself dream for a bit. Just for a moment.

Brahms would give you his favourite toys and ask you to play with him. He’d also share his favourite snacks with you and watch cartoons with you.

Brahms is a child at heart and he’d be happy to do anything with you, as long as he spends time with you.

He’d also insist on staying with you for the night.

Brahms *holds you close and starts breathing deeply* : "Nice…day ?"

You immediately understood what he was asking and hugged him back.

You : "Yes. I had a great day. Thank you, Brahms."

He was very happy to hear it and cuddled you closer—even letting you take a peek at his face. He’d become very clingy very quickly.

Brahms has a big fear of being a disappointment and abandonment. So, once he knows you like him ? There’s little chance he’d ever leave you alone.

Michael *A…date ?*

He’d be surprised and even a little nervous at first. Love is a tricky business for Michael, since he technically killed all of the people he ever cared about.

So, he’d be a little worried you’d end up with the same fate.

So, even making him agree to go on a date with you would be tricky.

Michael *frowns and sighs before taking your hand*

You *smile hopefully* : "Is that a yes ?"

Michael *nods after a while*

He’d then lead you to the kitchen and have a little cooking date with him. He knows how to handle a knife and was advised early on to find an activity which would soothe him. He found cooking.

But, cooking with you was different. It felt…better.

Seems like the bogeyman can get lonely too.

Unfortunately, Hannibal Sr. is considered too dangerous to leave his cell most of the time, as he arrived after all the others to St Louis.

So, he’d be either asking you to put on some music for him or to read to him. Two of his favourite things.

Hannibal Sr. *smiles as he tilts his head left and right to the music*

You *smile as you silently observe him* : "Tell me…Why did you ask me on a date ? I mean…You’re always in there. It seems pointless."

Him *stops tilting his head before opening his eyes slowly and smiling at you* : "But, that is precisely the game, my dear. Anticipation makes the deal all the sweeter…"

You : "So…You would rather wait and watch me all day rather than going out on an actual date ?"

Him *chuckles* : "Of course not, my dear…But, even if I never was set free…Spending a lifetime just watching you would be enough for me."

You stared at Hannibal Sr. for a while and he didn’t break eye contact for a second. He had just confessed that he’d be okay with just watching you until the end. And somehow, you believed him.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #jack torrance x reader #jason voorhes x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #norman bates x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal sr.#hannibal x reader

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