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roosterforme · 19 days

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In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears.

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly.

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you.

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind.

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

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

The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other.

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer.

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face.

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots.

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies.

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

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I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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eoieopda · 6 months

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sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb.

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing.

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly.

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted.

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free.

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort, when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start — with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find.

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner.

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa?

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.”

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him.

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you.

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.”

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of.

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have.

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to.

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and —

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why.

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question.

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?”

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but —

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods.

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say.

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

#svt #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #svt fic #svt smut #svt fluff #jade writes #re: sweatshirt season #ksy #kvanity

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osleeplessflowero · 5 months

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💜 Reader has They/Them pronouns and their appearance is entirely up to you! ❌ The skeletons will not be entirely canon accurate and will have a few of my headcanons attached. I hope they're still enjoyable! Sequel to this oneshot. ❣️ Sanses belong to their respective owners. All I own is the writing. WORDS: 1,589

🌨️❄️ SNOW DAY! ☃️🧊

Snow gently falls from the sky, hitting the ground and covering it with a pure white, cold blanket. It fogs up the windows, freezing them. Trees have icicles on their branches.

Nightmare's garden has been covered up for the season, the roses and other flowers being kept alive inside a magical greenhouse.

A fireplace crackles in the main living room, its warmth filling the castle.

You sit up in your bed, sliding off of it and walking over to the window, rubbing your eyes to wake up a bit better before looking outside. Upon seeing the snow, you comically press your face up against the glass before excitedly walking to the door, sliding on some slippers of choice and exiting your room.

It's SNOWING!

You rush to Killer's door, tapping on it rapidly until he slides it open.

"you have really gotta stop doing that so early." He yawns, stretching and cracking his bones a little.

"You know you love seeing me in the morning." You smile smugly.

"hmmm.. i guess so."

You gasp, mocking offense. "You guess? You wound me, Killer, such a heartbreaker.."

He snickers, putting his hand up to his mouth.

You put the back of your hand against your forehead, leaning back dramatically. "Whatever could I do?"

"you could tell me why you woke me up this early again, for starters."

"Oh yeah-" You stand up straight again. "It's SNOWING outside!" You grin, bouncing slightly in place.

"..okay and?"

"Killer, it's SNOW- we could do all kinds of things out there- we could have snowball fights, we could build snowpeople, we could do a LOTTA things-"

"ehh, when you grow up surrounded by snow it loses a lot of its appeal."

"C'monnn, don't you wanna hang out with me? Doesn't have to be for too long, but I think it could be fun. Why not give it a chance?" You smile pleadingly, pressing your hands together. He looks you over, seemingly contemplating, before sighing and giving in.

"fine, but don't expect me to stay for too long."

"I'll take it." You smile warmly.

"what's goin' on over here?" Dust walks over, taking a sip of coffee.

You make grabby hands, and he shakes his head. "no, get your own. answer me."

"well, they wanna go out and spend some time in the snow today."

"yeah? how come?"

"Because it could be fun- and it means group bonding time."

"what's gotten you all motivated for group bonding stuff?"

"I dunno. I just wanna spend time with my favorite people all together. Is that so bad?"

Dust and Killer look at each other, before sighing and smiling at you.

"i guess one day couldn't hurt, right killer?" "yeah. only doing this for them though."

You smile smugly, before Horror's door opens.

"why are you all so loud so early."

"Good morning, Horror." You smile at him, and he smiles a little in return. "..mornin'. what's goin' on?"

"We're gonna go out and have a snow day. Wanna join us?" "do i have to stand next to them?" "No, you can stand wherever you want." "then i'm in."

"you wound us, horror." Killer pretends to wipe away a tear. "literally could not give less of a shit." Horror deadpans, before you motion for everyone to follow you to the kitchen.

You get some more coffee started, chatting with everyone about old missions and other things like that, pouring cups for everyone. You hear a large set of doors open and close, peeking your head out of the kitchen to see Nightmare approaching.

"Morning, Night." You smile at him. "Morning. What's going on?" "We're all just having coffee right now, but we're gonna go have some fun in the snow later." "Why would you wanna go out there if it's freezing? Humans are vulnerable to frostbite, and snow's annoying to get off of your clothes. Just gets them all wet, too." He scrunches up his face. "C'monnn, there's lots of fun to be had out there. Why don't you join us? You might like itttt." "If I agree will you stop pestering me about it?" "Yes." You blink innocently. "Fine. But only for a little while." He puts his hand on your head, messing up your hair before going into the kitchen to get some coffee for himself.

You fist pump, going back as well.

After a few more minutes of conversation, you go back to your room to find much warmer clothes for yourself, knowing that since they're skeletons they don't feel the cold. You, however, are not immune to frostbite, and need protection.

Once you've properly bundled up, you walk out of your room and go into Killer's.

"Rate the fit-" "gimme a 360."

You spin around in a circle before striking a pose.

"9/10, should've went with a little more red." "You would say that." You snicker, walking out with him. He holds your hand as you walk, much less to keep up and more just because he wanted to.

You reach the living room where the other three are waiting by the fire for you, greeting them and heading out.

Snow crunches under your shoes as you walk, feeling it hit your head and making your cheeks a little flushed.

Killer walks casually beside Dust, who has his hands in his pockets. Horror lets some snow fall on his hand silently for a bit. Nightmare just walks next to you, a neutral look on his face.

You try to think of what to do first, then get an idea and smile deviously.

While the others are distracted, you reach down and pick up some snow, forming it into a ball and holding your hands behind your back.

"Oh Killerrrr.. I have a gift for you." "is it the gift of your undying love and affection for me?" He puts his hands on his cheeks, shooting you a wink. "Killer, you already know that I love you. But that's not it. THIS IS-"

You hit him right in the face with a snowball, then run for dear life.

"ohohoho, you are SO GONNA GET IT-" He runs after you, forming a snowball himself. You let out a scream, but in truth, you're not actually scared. It's one of excitement.

Nightmare shakes his head, watching in slight amusement.

"you gonna get in on that, boss?" Dust asks, standing beside him. "Absolutely not. I'd rather not have snow hurled at my face." "they seem to be having a lot of fun th-"

Dust gets hit in the face with a snowball. Followed by a "SORRY DUST-" in the distance.

"sorry to cut this short, boss, but this is a declaration of war-" "Go on."

He runs off, picking up snow in both hands and making two snowballs, chasing you both down. Horror looks at Nightmare, Nightmare sharing a look back, before Horror just leaves him to himself and joins the fight.

Walls are built, alliances made, betrayals were common.

You had a blast, aiming another snowball at Killer and throwing it before he ducks..and it hits Nightmare.

You feel yourself tense, the others stare at him. Killer looks like he's about to burst out laughing, Dust puts his hand to his teeth, and Horror..honestly doesn't care.

"Now look what you've done." "Nightmare, I-" "YOU DARE DECLARE WAR ON THE KING OF NEGATIVITY?"

He charges at you with a malicious grin, you playfully screaming and running as the others join in an all-out battle. You feel proud that you managed to get him to join in on the fun this time.

Once you all tire yourselves out, you focus your attention on snowpeople building. (After you take the time to go inside and get some extra parts to decorate them, that is.)

You make yours a silly fellow, a rather gentlemanly specimen indeed. You then make a much smaller gentleman to keep him company.

Killer makes sure to sculpt his properly, adding the classic carrot nose and a few pieces of clothing like a hat and scarf.

Dust..okay that's a pile of snow with his name written on it. Doesn't count.

Horror makes a bigger snowperson, carefully crafting details onto it, making small patterns in the snow with his sharp fingers. You give him some assistance, suggesting what to add to certain parts.

Nightmare adjusts yours when you aren't looking, sprucing it up a little and fixing its hat when it begins to slide off.

"Okay, I think it's time to go back inside. Their face is getting a bit too flushed. I wouldn't want to risk frostbite."

"Aww, okay. We should do this again if it snows tomorrow. Maybe we could go ice skating that time- I bet I could skate better than youu-" "Sure, we'll go with that." "You doubt my skills?" "I do doubt your skills."

You scoff, nudging Nightmare's shoulder as you all walk back. He simply grins at you.

You change out of your wet clothes, putting on some warm pajamas and going to sit in the living room with everyone. Nightmare sits to your right at the end of the couch, Killer on your left. Dust sits in a recliner, and Horror sits in front of you on the floor. You lean a bit on Nightmare as a movie starts, tracing lines on Horror's skull with your hand and taking an occasional sip of hot chocolate.

After a few jokes and discussions, you feel yourself getting tired, falling asleep right in the same spot. Feeling perfectly comfortable with your favorite skellies around.

#sleeplessflower's oneshots #bad sanses x reader #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans x reader #killer sans x reader #horror sans x reader #gender neutral reader #undertale x reader #Spotify

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allmyloveandyours · 1 year

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Astrology Observations 3!!!!

Hi I'm back again but these ones are kinda like straight up opinions. Take what resonates! I'm not a professional, if anything I'm a goofy fella who constantly asks to see peoples charts.

Virgo Midheaven creates a very detailed oriented person with an immaculate image. Everything they put out is out together well, their plans to be successful are insanely planned out, and I've never seen one look messy.

Mercury in your Suns element explain the things best to you.

Asteroid Actor (12238) conjunct Ascendant could mean people don't believe you when you're being honest/your sincerity comes off as fake.

Heavy Aquarius placements may love watching long commentary videos. Especially drama breakdown videos with Leo in the mix. I am a victim of this ✊😔

A lot of squares in a natal chart can make an extremely chill person. Whatever inner tension they have makes them oddly calm and forgiving of other people. Especially Sun squaring Mars and or Jupiter, it kinda feels like a cancellation happens where there should be anger. They also may get picked on a lot.

Moon in 10th and 11th house are popular placements for success. Whatever attention you get, your moon sign will tell you what people love about you. Jupiter also tells the same thing, but a less tame affect. Examples can be Moon in Pisces means that your very intuitive when it comes to your audience, and they vibe with you because of that. Jupiter in Pisces could have people going crazy for your intuitiveness and you could be able to gauge how you get attention the easiest.

The most accurate description of a rising sign I've seen is Virgo Rising having Resting Bitch Face. They also age SO well. The stars really balanced it out for them.

Mars in Libra can make a very passive person in relationships, and the house can talk about the problems. They may not want to speak up/will try to appease their partners. Like if the partner wants a cat and the Libra is deathly allergic, they'd rather get the cat than tell their partner there's an issue.

If you're feeling a little lost and need direction, looking at your Vesta could be a good place to start. Vesta represents your undying flame and your spark, so it can help jump-start your passions. Vesta in 5th can point to taking up more creative hobbies such as writing, acting, drawing, or maybe taking care of kids, 6th means starting with a healthy routine, helping others, or volunteering with animals, 1st is taking care of yourself and your appearance, and making even spicing things up a little. All of this is of course depending on the sign.

Cancer Midheavens are the best at being able to gauge audiences/coworkers reactions to things. Although it may seem strange, they're nice in positions of management. Strict enough to make you listen but nice enough to understand if you can't make deadlines/can sense if you're burnt out.

I feel like I can make a billion posts on Saturn since it's one of my favorite planets, but here's a favorite: I'm not sure who said it (it could've been multiple, if anyone knows who I'm talking about leave their @ in the replies) but your chart ruler in a house can show where you may excel, but also have problems based on what body part it rules. A good example for me is Saturn in 5th Gemini, and I have wrist joint/bone issues caused by excessive drawing and writing. I also get a lot of compliments for my jaw so win/win scenario. Another not me example is your rising being Sagittarius, with Jupiter in 6th house. You could be a joyous person when it comes to taking care of people/yourself, with a stable routine that's a bit too rigorous and you could end up hurting your thighs in some way like pulling your hamstring, or just having really thick thighs and contributing it to your routine. S/o to you for that

Uranus in retrograde can point to bad technology skills. Probably the type of person to go "I hate technology" one minute then continue to giggle at memes on Twitter the next. Especially in Aquarius.

Gemini Midheavens/Mars need to do multiple things at once. So like if you're a writer, you might be your publisher as well or your editor, or even make your own book cover. If you do YouTube you'll be your own editor and script writer. If you're an actor you may act and director, the list can go forever. But doing at least 2 things seems to stop the jumping from project to project some Geminis may feel creatively.

I like describing North Node and Vertex as The path you're drawn to (NN) vs What path you're gonna get dragged down (V). Like you can ignore your north node if you want but vertex will force you to deal with it. Like if you have North Node in 4nd but Vertex in 8th. You could ignore any homebody nature, ignore your roots and any family life, but you will be forced to go through transformations, deaths and rebirths whether you like it or not, or even notice it.

Pisces suns kinda flock together, I've never seen one by themselves.

Oppositions to Mars can tell you what makes you quick to anger even if you're not a hot headed person. Mars Opposite Venus could be that you get upset when people criticize your style, love life or appearance. Mars Opposite Sun could mean you don't like when people criticize you period, and it may be very ego based.

Chiron in 1st house may be sore losers, and they don't like looking stupid, especially with positive planets in 9th house. They may need to learn how to deal with showing a bit of that Chiron side in a healthy way, since the 1st house is the thing people see first.

Your descendant could be the moon sign/element you get the most, especially in love.

Squares/Opposites to Neptune can show what illusions you need to break in order to get closer to your intuitive nature. Neptune Square Pluto could mean you need to go through a full transformation and rebirth. Neptune opposite Mars means you may need to deal with bouts of anger, realigning your passions and directing your energy in the proper direction.

Mars in Scorpio are the calmest mars sign of them all. Nothing really ever phases them to be honest, regardless of the house.

ALRIGHT these ones were deadass just things I've noticed. Might be a week or so till I post another one, but let me know if there's any topics you think I should cover next besides the Chiron one I'm planning. See you next time :)

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jayenator565 · 6 months

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My Tanthamore Comfort Fics

We were talking about comfort fics in the Tanthamore discord and I realized I have too many for a normal sized reply, so here's a tumblr post instead. In no particular order i've reread these fics...maybe too many times.

I'm just gonna list em by author cause that's easier. Keep in mind we may have different definitions of the word comfort.

@commanderbuffy

650 ft2 - Ok so like envision these girls have been best friends for forever and they've been secretly pining for ages, no sense of personal space, they can read eachother like books AND they were roommates!

The Tanthamore Affair - This fic has everything, one bed, fake dating, celeb au, the fic that changed the meaning of a certain emoji and all the tropes you could want really

@badlance

We've got to find other ways to make it together - this one line says all you need to know

"It is the greatest irony of Jade Claymore’s life to be a certified genius who is nevertheless in love with an idiot."

@spybrarian

More Than Just Survival - as far as 5+1 fics go this one has me in a CHOKEHOLD

I scream at your chest for as long as I must

one night at the start of the end of the world

@ilovemyships (i think you need an AO3 account to read these gems)

you won't believe it (they think we're lovers)

don't wanna pressure (but friends don't kiss friends)

@acre-of-wheat - Acre's way with words should be studied

Network Connectivity Issues - I have never related to a character more than I relate to this Jade

The Dark

The Bite

@jlmichigan

Out of the Cuirass - one of the first tanthamore fics I ever read actually and I still come back to it every so often

@stbot

lay down your armor (come lie bare with me) - saintbot has a catalogue lemme tell ya but this one for tanthamore is just so heartwarming

@overkill-max

Escaping Fate - the Kit runs away fic that everyone needs

Dil3mma (idk their tumblr right now sorry)

A Sword And A Shield (And Everything In Between)

Deja-Brew - the loveliest coffee shop one shot

Jad3dEt3rnal (idk if they have a tumblr either)

This Daydream is Dangerous - cuddly vampire Jade, need I say more?

ana_chronistic (idk if they have a tumblr either x3)

Oops. I proposed. - fake dating x 100, fake proposal it's like fake dating to the next level and I love the growth of communication and pacing in this.

@barmaid-anon

do what you feel now

you want a good girl that does bad things (to you)

fulfill (an obligation) or keep (an arrangement)

we simply don't have time to unpack why these are comfort fics, we're just going to accept it and keep going.

@thecsquirrel

Sword and Shield - I love this look at what post S1 life could have been like for the gang, revisiting Nockmaar, seeing Galladoorn, getting into the evil Elora storyline with Graydon, spending more time with the Nelwyn and in the Wildwood it's just everything

@wigster07

What a pleasant surprise - a fic of one of my other comfort fics, I know it's like fic-ception in the best way possible. If you liked Tanthamore Affair I have an inkling this will be right up your alley

@isabrella @jade-claymore @allthefakepeople @resurrecho

those rumors they have big teeth - BAND AU need I say more? I don't need to but i'm going to, this fic has everything Kit and Jade in a band, Kit's leather pants, gay-ifying songs, MAMA MIA, totally gay best friends who have basically been dating for years but won't admit to it, Jade gets to be a bit problematic as a treat, inner band fighting, what more can you want?

@swashbucklery

meet you where the spirit meets the bones (tanthamore 90s werewolf au) - its a SERIES of these repressed gay DORKS and they're werewolves, there's such a charming way to how this author writes them I legit can't even with these two gays

@onlyshestandsthere

these walls come tumbling down - look, we don't have time to unpack why there's so many were-related supernatural esque fics on my comfort list and I know this is only 2 chapters in but I can already feel the comfort in all the hurt ok I dont even have to wait I already know i'm gonna be rereading this like monthly

I'm gonna have to stop there even though I know i'm still missing some! If someone asked me what my favorites are we'd be here all day XD

#tanthamore #tanthamore fics #fic recs #jade claymore #kit tanthalos #willow #willow 2022

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robogart · 8 months

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no you're SO right about the baldurs gate writing & design. I feel like everyone played a different version of that game where the characters were actually interesting and not just like. poorly written twig people. literally none of the party members have any meat on their bones, even the fuckin "muscle lady" who looks just as twiglike as everyone else its so grating

YES the "it feels like everyone played a different version of that game" is definitely where we're at right now! I'm glad you're in the same boat, it's nice to know we're not alone!! ; w ; 🙏💖💖

It's hard with the writing, because on one hand, I'm here for classic character types and tropes - I'll eat the same ones over and over! But of course, it's always with the caveat of if they're executed well (in MY opinion, it's always subjective). For example, we LOVE Astarion in this house (and Gale has been a surprise like for us too) - but SO much of that is because how the actors delivered the characters. And Astarion in particular feels SO well done - Neil Newbon is such an excellent character actor and he FEELS like a character because the actor brings a lot of nuance to the delivery. But if anyone else voiced him, it would feel lackluster. And that's because the writing is not as strong and intentional feeling. Even the way conversations are paced feel rather clunky - and the most "succesful" dialogue is because the actor is setting better breath and pace and emotion than the dialogue and story gives on its own.

So much of the actual character depth to me feels like it is largely aided by the actors rather than the writing itself. Which I know writing that, it feels a bit DUH that's what the actors are there for. But both things can exist at the same time. And I feel bad for always pointing at Dragon Age, but it's an adjacent game in this field and it's crafted Very Well where both the performances from the actors add depth to the already solid writing. Even looking up Dragon Age writers, you can easily find who the main writers were for each character, which is what gives them SUCH a clear voice and point of view. (And I think there are some characters who are weaker in Dragon Age, but I can't argue that they don't ever feel consistent to themselves despite my opinion of their writing). Whereas so many of the characters in bg3 just feel like they were made in an aimless gamer-bro echo chamber without any direction and the only saving grace is by the performance of the actor.

But!! Rambling!! I'm so sorry @ w @;;; I'm just very impassioned by this right now = w =;;;

#i'm so sorry to scream about this anon and ramble! but i'm glad you're in the same feeling as well!! ; w ;#my friend and I will be happy to know we're not alone!! 🙏💖💖

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mysticalsoot · 11 months

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hi Connor! can i request a hurt/comfort cc!Wilbur x reader in which reader's going through a rough path of mental health? to be more specific, a lot happened and they're overwhelmed, their mind is all over the place and they need someone to assure them that they're human and not some sort of flickering ghost like they thought. it'd be nice if there's no pronoun in the writing and Wilbur holding reader hands, squeeze it to remind them that they're human :)

don't lock yourself away (request)

A/N; this took me too many months to get to you and for that, I am sorry- but here it is!! I'm trying to work more and more on my requests so hopefully this is the start of many more request posts!!

summary; reader goes through a rough patch mentally and sort of disappears and wilbur gets fed up, taking matters into his own hands and reminding reader that they aren't all what their brain says they are :)

tw// swearing, $uicidal ideation a bit, negative thoughts, depression, dissociation (some), uhh I think that's all?

words; 1.5k

pairings; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

pronouns; none, at least one use of y/n tho!!

masterlist

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

Like most other people, your mental health wasn't always the most steady. You'd come and go between happy, good days and depressing, bad days. Most of the time, your depressive episodes didn't even have much of a cause. Your mental health was simply a precariously stacked pile of things with one last feather on the top, and when it would touch the tower of reasons, it'd cause it to fall over.

You weren't sure what your reason was this time. But nonetheless, whatever it was; threw you over the pier into the ocean of despair. It's been a week since you left your flat, and you stopped answering calls and texts five days ago, and now you felt as though you were rotting—but in the comfort of your sheets and pillows.

Rotting away in comfort sounded like a good way to go, your eyes slipping shut to never open again—you stopped yourself every time you thought that. It was easy to succumb to the negative and end all thoughts but you managed to stop yourself—at least this time you did.

Your phone was most definitely dead and Wilbur knew that. Every call he sent through would go straight to voicemail and every text went unanswered. He understood if you were busy, but it had been so many days since anybody heard you from. And yeah, he was on tour for half of your isolation from the world—but he still cared. He really really cared, but he didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do?

He’d called and texted and even went to your apartment with his spare key--but it didn’t fit. And you weren’t answering your door either.

Maybe he had an old key or maybe your apartment building changed the locks while he was gone and you didn't get the chance to tell him—hypotheticals aside, he had no real idea of what had happened or what was going on. And that scared him. It terrified him, actually.

It was a fear that went deep in his bones, that maybe something had happened and no one noticed or told him and he'd never find out why. Your door wasn't working, you weren't answering his calls and texts, what else was he meant to think? He tried knocking, truly he did, but there was still no response or sounds

He tried everything but it wouldn't budge, so he resorted to resting against the door as he sat on the carpeted hall. He'd wait here as long as he needed to. And so he messaged Tommy that he wouldn't be able to do a vlog with him tomorrow and he settled in to figure out what to do. He wasn't sure if he cared about being polite, maybe he should find a way to break in, just so he can make sure you're okay—but that would probably scare you and he can't risk that, can he?

At this point, he might as well. He brings himself back to his feet and grabs a safety pin he left in his wallet—mostly just to pick the lock at his office when he locked himself in, because whatever genius engineer decided the lock of his office's doors should be on the outside also made it very difficult to keep unlocked. It was like the doors had minds of their own. It was a few moments before he heard a click and he muttered a phrase of excitement before he jingled the door open and closed it behind him when he stepped a foot into your apartment.

He gazes around for any sign of you or life in general and not much was found. Surprisingly, things were decently tidy, there weren't any dishes or chores undone—which was unusual for what he assumed to be a depressive episode but he shrugged it off and beelined for your bedroom after dropping his keys in the bowl next to the door. He's quick to shuffle the door open and his eyes almost immediately land on your curled form.

You're laying under the covers, curled up into yourself and you're silent. Wilbur steps closer to the bed and he calls out for you, "Love?" He steps closer again, "Darling?"

You mumble something incoherent and he's taken aback by how out of it you are-- how unlike yourself you are. He finds his spot next to you and lays a hand on your hip, “Y/N?”

You don’t respond, keeping to yourself, trying to still your breaths--make yourself disappear into the mattress. Maybe he won’t ask questions then, maybe he’ll go away if you don’t answer.

He pulls away his hand a whine nearly drawls itself from your throat, you liked that but you’d never admit it in this state.

“I know you're not going to answer me, so I’m going to tell you what I think and hope you're listening, okay?” He turns on his side to face you, your eyes are wide open now and he smiles a bit to himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I think you feel like a shell. You do this a lot, when you're upset or in a funk. I know you can’t help it, I know it's human nature to hide away within yourself and your safe spaces. I don’t blame you, my love. But I need some assurance I’m not going to lose you, okay? A simple nod now or a simple word texted to me later when you feel yourself spiraling. So I can be there for you, I want to be but you have to let me first.”

During his small speech, you found yourself curling into the fetal position, hiding your face in the covers and by your pillows. You closed your eyes and you felt that pang of guilt in your chest despite his reassuring words.

“You’re here, you’re real, and you’re loved, okay?” He nods softly to himself, lips forming a thin line as he crawls out of the bed, “I’ll be out in the living room if you need me, okay? Come talk to me when you feel like it.”

His words echoed in your mind as you heard him leave the door cracked behind him. You felt terrible for making him feel as scared as he must be, yet you still needed a minute and you hoped that was enough. You opened your eyes, carefully eyeing the crack of light through the door, feeling yourself getting heavier with sleep, your eyes drooping shut.

A few hours later and your eyes were opening and a yawn was let out as you stretched, reaching over at Wilbur’s side of the bed only to find it cold. You felt better now, for some odd reason, and as memories of a few hours prior seeped in, you knew why. Maybe isolating yourself only made you feel more alien and the thought of his words so kind and so careful was so beautifully overwhelming. It was something you weren’t sure you could ever have a full grasp upon. Someone loving you as deeply and as carefully as Wilbur does.

You didn’t take much thought as you tossed your legs over the side of the bed, pushing yourself up to stand, ignoring the ache in your muscles as you dragged yourself over to the door and being methodical with how slow you opened the door--avoiding any screeches of the hinges. And then you were careful again, taking soft steps towards the living room, and when there was no sight of Wilbur, you pattered over to the kitchen. Being fully sure you were quiet and slow as you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his stomach and pressing the side of your head against his back. You felt him relax under your touch, any tension or worry completely fizzling from his being.

“I feel transparent, Wil. Like a ghost wandering aimlessly through life. I don't feel real, y’know?” You hum softly against his back, pressing soft and careful kisses against his back. He turns in your grasp to face you, leaning against the counter as he uses his pointer finger to lift your chin up so your eyes meet his. Only a soft love is held in his eyes, almost a promise in the way they glisten. An unspoken promise of forever.

“You aren’t a ghost, you’re a star. Everyone looks up at your shining light and thinks of how beautiful and wonderful it is to exist at the same time as a sight like that,” He moved his hands behind his back to grasp yours. The hold was gentle as he met your eyes again, voice merely a whisper, “You’re real, you’re special, you’re important.”

He squeezed your hands with every word and you nodded gently, a playful smile forming, a gentle scoff following, “I feel compelled to believe you.”

“Well, you should,” He smiled wider, moving his hands to rest on your sides, pulling you flush against him, “Now, do me a favor and, don’t lock yourself away.”

You nod in agreement, “I won’t, I promise.”

taglist; @sleepyburs @ella-fella-bo-bella @lillylvjy

#wilbur soot #cc!wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #cc!wilbur soot x male reader #cc!wilbur soot #wilbur gold #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur

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sparkbeast20 · 6 months

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Hiii, I'm a big fan of your writing both the whb stories and the obey me ones (obsoletely love the blue lotus ones). I saw that you opened the request and I was wondering if you would be ok with writing either headcanons or a mini story of Buer being jealous over his dog god because the mc (female if possible) gives the dog ore attention than him. If not i totally understand, ave a great day/night/evening <3

Note: Aw~ Thanks! I'm so happy that you like my writing 🥹

Canine attention (Buer X F!MC)

Buer had to attending a couple of devils... Mostly Dantalian with their wounds but it was the day you've arrived in Paradise Lost for him.

Feeling that you might get bored waiting around for him while his doing his tasks, he summoned the dog god to keep you company.

It was fortunate that you weren't scared of Canin deity and said deity likes you.

"Most we go over this again, Dantalian? Out all of the days you had to get injured this bad is the day that the daughter of Solomon is here in Paradise Lost."

"You know... You don't have to heal me-"

"And what kind of Doctor would I be, if I let you bleed out"

You couldn't have imagine waiting down a street with a literal God beside you.

And a cute one too~

You and Dog god were walking down the street of Paradise Lost heading to the Park that Buer suggested to you to wait for him while he's finishing his work.

"I know that Buer made us leave the Hospital because he didn't want me to see all the blood and wounds of all the devils coming in"

Your heart skipped a beat when you said that out loud.

Buer always made sure that you weren't stressed both physically and mentally. And that's what you love about him.

The deity nodded subtly behind you. But you didn't see it.

After a couple of mins, you two reach the park. And quiet enough, and there's barely any devils here. Only a devil girl and her dog. Which Buer told you that Dogs in hell are big.

The canine dwarfs it's owner.

You sat at the bench with the dog god floats behind you, as you two watch as the kid and his dog play.

Watching them, makes you smile.

Even in a war with Heaven, the subjects of kings manage to find time to enjoy life.

Later, the kid's parent came to pick him and his dog up, the parent greets you before bidding you a wave.

Now it was you and the deity.

"So... What you want do, of radiated" You don't want to offend him by calling him something cute or silly.

This is a God after all.

But you saw and notice that he was staring at spot where the devil kid and his dog were playing. And looking closely. It seem that he was mesmerize.

You recall that one time that Buer gave him a bone made of the bones of dead angels that he... found. And he acted like any dog would when they were about to get a treat. Excited.

"Do you to play?" You asked as if you're asking yourself.

He turn to you with excitement in his eyes, and ears perking up.

Buer sighs as you walks down the street, relieved that Morax came in and kindly took over.

Buer was hesitant, but deciding to let him do the task of tending to the patients.

He arrive at the park to told you, and saw from afar the Dog god running fast, worried Buer quicken his pace but stopped when he saw you unharm and even laughing.

As you threw the large stick far and the dog god chase after it.

He sighs and hid his arms in his sleeves, relived that it wasn't something serious.

"Having fun?" He asked as he approach you two.

"Buer!" You happily called out as you dash to him and hugged him before pulling back. "How's everyone?" He smiled at you asking about about his patients. You're too caring.

"They're fine. Aside from Dantalian being his usual self, everyone is being treated by Morax."

You smile before looking back at the Dog god, you let Buer go and skip back to the deity.

That surprise Buer, he stood there as he watch you and the dog god playing.

Even though he was happy seeing that you and his "Friend" getting along well, something stir within him.

Buer turn towards to the bench and sat there, he'll willing to wait. It's not like you'll play for too long.

He was wrong.

It's been two hours, you and the deity stopped playing with the fetch after two hours and decided to get something to eat and drink, but you did asked Buer to wait.

He "Begrudgingly" agree.

As he wait for you two to return, Buer sense a present appear behind him.

"Hello, Marbas"

The devil named Marbas suddenly appears behind him. "You should be in the hospital-"

"Morax is filling in for me. He knew that it was my time with the daughter of Solomon"

Marbas hums as he looked around and notice that you weren't around.

"Where is she?"

"Went off with the Dog God of Moro Family... They seem to enjoy each others company." Buer mutters, he hates how it stir up something within him-

"Envy doesn't suit you, Buer."

"Envy?" Buer sat up straight and turn his head towards black haired devil.

"Yes, it would be a first for you since you never had a reason to be jealous"

Could that be it? He did feel greed when he was still living in Tartaros. and now a bit of Pride.

But Envy? It's a strange feeling. But a welcome feeling.

Sure, it sucks. But knowing that he feels something like jealousy gives new meaning to his view of you and that he likes to have to you all to himself and he dislike seeing others getting your attention from him.

As soon he finished his thought, he heard you calling his name. He turn to see you walking fast towards him with a bag filled with food and drinks with the dog god floating beside you.

He turn back to see that Marbas is gone.

He sighs and made a mental note to thank him before standing up and meet you in the way.

"My lord I do apricate keeping the daughter of Solomon company, but it seem that your taking all her attention. So I may asked that MC and I spend time together, alone." He spoke politely and bowed to the deity.

The deity nodded, and after giving you a goodbye nuzzle on the cheek, he flew up and disappeared into the air.

You waving calmly and felt an arm wrap around your waist and pull you close.

"My... Did I ignore you too much?" You teased as you face Buer and wrapped your arms around him and gave him a small peck in the lips.

"Yes, but you can make it up to me in other ways" He smirk and stork your cheek with the back of his hand.

He pulled back and offered his hand which you gladly took it, and the two of you head to his place.

Note: I had to make sure that I do Buer justice and I feel I did!

This was fun to write :D

If there’s grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don’t be shy to leave a comment or reblogging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3

#what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb buer #whb mc #whb marbas #whb dantalian #whb buer x mc #whb fic

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asexualbookbird · 2 months

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Oh what a month for reading! Some really bad books, but also some candidates for favorites of the year! Had book club! That was fun as always! I also started TWO new fiber craft projects which I'm excited about. The Cabled crochet blanket is SO much fun and I'm really getting into the groove of it. I've learnt how to read crochet charts! Partially anyway. For this one project. It's clear I am still recovering covid because I can't do much else than sitting in bed reading lol But hey, I'm resting and having fun!

Envy of Angels by Matt Wallace ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - What a delightfully hilarious nugget of a book! Absolutely wacky! Definitely interested in the rest of the series, but it's also more of a Read When In Brain Fog so I want to save it for my bad brain days lol

Shadow of the Crown by Amber Morane ⭐ - Unpolished. Poorly written. The ending sucked. No redeeming qualities and I do not want to read more from this series or author. At least it was free.

Starter Villain by John Scalzi ⭐⭐⭐ - Another fun and silly book! Scalzi definitely has a way of writing that defines a Scalzi Book™️. Don't think too much about it, just enjoy the ride. Loved the cats, I think more authors should put genius cats into their books.

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - CRYING. SOBBING. SCREAMING. Finally read this and I am in PAIN! Very good, very feelings, this is what Ready Player One could've been.

Flight & Anchor by Nicole Kornher-Stace ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - The Prequel to Firebreak, glad I read this second so that lines could hurt me more because I know how their stories end. I'm not sure what, but this one was missing something for me that made me enjoy it a little less than Firebreak, but I still enjoyed it a lot! A great duo!

His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik ⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Reread for book club! Still enjoyed it a lot! Still adore Temeraire and Laurence! The amount of times they call each other "my dear" so early melts my heart. I'd probably like this even more if I actually enjoyed historical fiction and the Napoleon wars.

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - hey. Hi. Hello. What if Geralt was canonically a woman and the demon chicken from Nettle & Bone had a Voice. What. If. This book is a part of me now thanks bye!

Again, no clear goals for March. I"m honestly having a good time just reading with whatever I vibe with. I didn't get to the Ga'Hoole books in February, so I'll put those at the top of my potential list for March, but other than that? Who knows! I definitely immediately put myself on the libby waitlist for Sunbringer I need to know how Kissen, Elo, and Ina get on. I need to know they're all okay. Please let them be okay ;-;

If you have any recommendations for books like Godkiller I am ALL EARS! Might replay Witcher III about it in the meantime.

#bookbird babbles #books #booklr #reading wrap up #monthly wrap up #february wrap up

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sunshineyuuji · 1 year

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Surprising Facts

IkeVamp suitors with an s/o who randomly says interesting facts

Characters: Leonardo Da Vinci, Isaac Newton, Arthur Conan Doyle, Le Comte de Saint-Germain, Johann Georg Faust

Warnings: maybe ooc since I don't know their personalities well, bad English (?), some facts may be a little disturbing (Isaac's part), gn!reader/fem!reader.

Notes: hello~! It's great to write again! I hope you're all taking care. This is the first time I write anything that has to do with the Ikemen series, so I hope you like it (╥﹏╥). Also, this is a tiny bit too much inspired by things I say to my friends and family so enjoy this little random facts I know, te-hee~.

Leonardo Da Vinci

"Did you know that Samuel Morse, the creator of the telegraph and Morse code ran for mayor of New York, but was against Catholics and immigrants?"

"I beg your pardon?"

It's really fun to have them around, though he sometimes doesn't understand some of the facts they throw at him and asks them to explain.

He learns more about future events through their random facts than asking the other residents.

He gets caught off guard by some of the facts his s/o throws at him though.

"Nutmeg is a hallucinogen."

Sometimes tries to ask them things that he thinks may be difficult for them to know, but he always fails.

"Actually, Sudan has more pyramids than any other country in the world."

His s/o never fails to impress him and he loves that.

They’re just cute darlings full of knowledge! They’re pretty and smart!

Secretly wishes to surprise his s/o with something they don't know.

Perhaps his unconditional love for them.

"And did you know, tesoro, that I love you dearly?"

I'm sure they didn't know that one, did they?

Isaac Newton

"Did you know the human stomach can dissolve razor blades?"

"Y/N, please, PLEASE stop with the creepy information."

Look, he's glad they’re drenched in information, but WHY do they choose to tell him the creepy ones?

He knows some of the facts his s/o tells him, others are more modern so he asks them information about it.

But when it comes to the creepy ones...

"Acids can dissolve a body more completely than lye, liquefying even the bones and teeth."

"And why do you need this information?!"

Let's face it, it's a bit weird that they know that, but they’re full of information!

Although they always have one or two that make him smile.

"Did you know the world's longest marriage lasted 86 years?"

Isaac looked up at his s/o with intrigue.

"Why don't we break the record?" they smiled at him and laughed when they noticed his cheeks blush.

Arthur Conan Doyle

"There are four law books bound in human skin at the Harvard University Library."

"Bound in what?!"

It feels like a competition.

He wants to outsmart them in saying something they don't know, but never finds anything.

"Video cameras were invented in 1891."

"Mmm that was the movie camera called Kinetograph, but in 1888 Louis Le Prince invented a single-lens camera that created the first and oldest motion video in existence."

"Bloody hell, Y/N!"

Don't worry, there is one thing he can do that leaves them with no answer.

And that is at flirting.

"You may be a little know-it-all, but you're still my cute dove, aren't you?" he chuckles. "Oh yes, I always win in the game of seduction."

Always uses the little random facts they give him on books.

Like that one time when his s/o told him that hydrogen peroxide dissolves blood!

Comte de Saint-Germain

Let's be clear, this man knows quite a lot thanks to his time travels.

But that doesn't stop his s/o from saying a thing or two.

"It's interesting how people often paint you as a time traveler and an immortal being without knowing they're right. Isn't it ironic?"

Asks more about future events like wars that are soon to come or any type of information that calls his attention.

"In your time, which is the most famous book?"

"Currently the Bible. It's the most recognizable and famous book that has ever been published."

He always has this soft smile whenever they tell him anything out of the blue, either because of amusement or because he loves how they smile whenever they tell him any random fact.

It's adorable to say the least, and he will make sure to always make them feel proud of their knowledge.

"Ma chèrie is very smart and knowledgeable. I sure am a lucky man, aren't I?"

Johann Georg Faust

Let's be for real, he's a smart ass.

He knows quite a lot about alchemy and other stuff.

But what about modern stuff?

"You know, I wanted to watch the play that goes by your name. I read it though! Very tragic indeed."

"What are you talking about?"

Yeah, yeah, he’s smart and stuff.

Really cool.

But his face when they tell him something he doesn’t know?!

Priceless.

Even if he does know, he’s more surprised on the fact that his s/o knows that type of stuff.

For example:

“Did you know that injecting 35% hydrogen peroxide can cause inflammation of the blood vessels at the injection site? The oxygen bubbles that block flood flow and lead to gas embolisms, leading to the destruction of red blood cells.”

“May I know why you know this information?”

Secretly likes it. I mean after all, his s/o isn’t just some pretty face.

Doesn’t stop him from teasing you though.

“Your knowledge won’t help you get away from me now will it? Hm, thought so. Now come here before I make you regret it.”

Will make a quiz full of questions regarding history out of spite.

They pass flawlessly. (Yeah, just with random facts from the internet. Leave me alone, I did that once.)

“You are proficient with your little data. Well, I can't expect less from my partner.”

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jasonsmirrorball · 5 months

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second star (988)

part of the dad!jason au. reader is referred to as 'mommy', female child original character, child illness, angst, allusions to canon relationships, bruce + dick make an appearance, happy ending.

your daughter falls ill when she's about four years old. it's the kind of sickness that leaves her bed-ridden for a while, her little coughs echoing down the hall while you make her soup with a tight heart. jason fares worse, tension lining his brow and you can see the shards of his broken heart glimmering in his eyes every time she cries.

he reads to her a lot, his drowsy, tired girl curled up in his arms while he turns the pages of her favourite book. the edges of the paper are softened from the years, the scrawl of her name on the front page wobbly and overlapping the title. most times, she falls asleep before he can finish the first chapter, but it's fitful, full of shallow breaths and restless murmuring. he doesn't leave her bedside, and in the end, neither do you, taking up residence in the armchair beside her bed while her father – too big for the princess bed her beloved uncle had bought her last year – hangs his legs off the bed frame.

she cries when you hold her as jason changes her bedding, her muscles aching in time with your heart. her curls are damp with sweat, her face with tears. you murmur promises to her, kissing her salt-tracked face, i know, baby, i know. it'll be quick, i promise. daddy just has to put new covers on.

sickness is no stranger to jason's family, who've had their fair share of broken bones and other wounds. still, they come by and you watch them try their best to hide their worry. dick, kneeling by his best girl's bed and softly tucking a curl behind her ear. hi, sweetheart, he murmurs sweetly, doing okay? 'course you are, brave girl. he presses brand new stuffed toy into her arms, tucking the giraffe under the covers.

he leaves her with a hug, and you watch jason follow him out of the room, unwilling to let his older brother go just yet. the front door remains shut, and you know that they've gravitated to the kitchen, low voices muffled through the walls. you turn to your girl, her tired eyes fixed on the orange splotches, mouth open as she touches its ears. mama, look. like on tv, she says tiredly, and you grin.

when you get better, we can write dickie a card to say thank you, huh?

one by one, the rest of the family come to visit their girl. and jason says very little, face stiffer and more solemn than he ought to be at his twenty nine years old, but you know him. he's glad they're here. devastated about why. terrified as to what might come.

he'd cried the night she was born, more than once. the first time he'd seen her, tiny, wrinkled thing that she was. the first time he'd held her – his whole world, right in the palm of his hands, he'd told you later that night in a whisper, watercolour eyes tearful and not for the first time that night. didn't ever think i would get here. thought maybe i got lucky with you, he had confessed. my luck can't be so bad if i've got her, too.

you knew he was remembering those words, remembering the ones he'd told you he loved you for the first time. i'm a cursed man, sweetheart. you'd be better off with someone else. and yet...and yet i'm too selfish not to tell you i want you. i love you.

it seems especially cruel a joke of fate to allow him this chance at happiness, and threaten it so quickly.

the doctor comes and goes. bruce pays for it before the man has left the room, and you think your husband might come to physical blows with his father, in the living room, when he finds out. he doesn't. 's not for me, he tells you later, when your baby girl has fallen asleep, his face pressed into your neck. he loves her, too.

and you can't deny it, the way your father-in-law dotes on her. the grumpy old man is wrapped around her littlest finger, as charmed as you've ever seen him when your firefly seeks him out at family gatherings. she spends most of dinner by his side, insistent on sitting next to papa, much to your chagrin and reminder of her manners. it's fine, he assures you quietly. she's much better behaved than any of my children.

you know that it simultaneously warms and embitters your husband, to watch him be so good with your daughter.

she gets better slowly.

the worst of it passes in the slowest night of your life, spent wetting rags and coaxing her to take the medicine she'd been prescribed, feeding bites of food to her while holding back your own fearful tears. jason takes over when she starts to throw a tantrum, only to run out of steam and cry quietly. you have to leave the room for a moment, struggling to catch your breath.

hey, he murmurs, from the next room. you think you can take a bite for me? i know, angel, but you gotta eat something. tell you what, i'll help you finish this, and when you're better, you, me and mommy are gonna go on a trip. anywhere you want.

beach? you hear her feeble voice suggest and he hums.

yeah. you wanna go swimming?

uh-huh.

the bowl is empty by the time you return, and you don't know if it's hope that colours your vision and puts rose in the apples of her cheeks. but jason seems to see it too, and you see grief and relief in his eyes when he catches your gaze. you stand by the bed, and his fingers find yours. in her pyjamas, your girl points to the book on her bedside table.

she stays awake to see the end of the book.

i don't know what spurred this on but i wanted to rip my heart out a little. unnamed todd baby you are the light of my life. i kept thinking about that poem about the father who got his sick daughter plums and just about in general how fathers love. it makes me so ill especially thinking about my own but i wanted to put jason in that situation and do it while trying to stay true to canon (somewhat). anyway. hope u liked this. it's unedited and hastily written but i hope it makes you feel something.

#divider by benkeibear #jasonsmirrorball #dad!jason #jay my heart

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