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sgrplumditz · 8 months ago

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Simon falls for Johnny��s wife…

render by @ave661

a/n: I’ve been working on this for a hot minute, but ended up having it sit in my drafts for a couple months :(. these images were released and it definitely struck a chord in my delulu mind. hence why i decided to finish it..

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"I've got a bad feeling about this one, Johnny," she said to the Scott with a shaky breath. Their toddler clinging to his mother's leg while keeping a tight grip on his father's finger. His little hand too small to grip the entirety of his hand.

She couldn’t help but notice his worrisome sigh as he looked for the comforting words, "Eh, don't you worry, Darling. I always come back don't I?" he replied enthusiastically as he embraced her figure, his chin resting on the top of her head and his free hand caressing the back of his son’s head. Johnny always knew how to comfort her, but she couldn’t shake her nervousness and doubtful thoughts as he said goodbye to her husband and the father of her only child.

The memory of their final interaction as a family replayed in her head continuously as the rain created soft tapping noises on her black umbrella. The pattering of the water creating an almost hypnotizing effect on the new widow that kept her mind on the only aspect that was left of her late husband -- memories.

The toddler, a three-year-old boy, who like most of the time clung to his mother's body. Except this time he was fully embracing his mother, his little face placed into the crook of her neck as the pair stood together at the outdoor memorial service. She could only stare blankly at the urn that held the remains of the love of her life. Through her observant stare she took note of the simple, yet lovely set up of white roses, numerous awards and medals. All of which surrounded a framed photo of her Johnny — her favorite photo. A candid picture snapped of the blue eyed, dark haired man by his wife — the woman he kept a secret from his work life. Not out of shame, or malicious secrecy — Johnny loved his wife and his child. Love them so much that he couldn’t be bothered ever putting them in any sort of danger.

She could feel numerous pairs of eyes prying into her and her son as she stood amongst the medium sized crowd of individuals. She assumed all of them were teammates, Co-workers, or people simply paying their respects. she knew he was a highly decorated soldier, but he was far more than that. None of them knew about his personal life, and nobody knew about the widow and small boy he had left behind. Nobody but Captain John Price knew about Soap’s little family. In confidence, Soap had asked Price to maintain word of his wife and son under the rug of the sake of their safety. Although they were hidden, he always carried pieces of them with him wherever he went — attached to his dog tags were two small and silver flat pendants that had been engraved with his wife and son’s fingerprint, his wedding band usually accompanying them on the same chain whenever he was deployed.

When Johnny was home he never removed his ring. He would often complain about how difficult and stubborn the piece of jewelry was when it came time to remove it for work. Johnny thought he was as discrete as he could be when it came to protecting the two most important people in his life, but there was a certain masked individual who took notice of the tan line that marked his left ring finger, the sudden dark under eyes and disheveled appearance that started 3 years ago when they would meet early in the morning for briefings, and when he caught sight of a vomit stain decorating the left shoulder of his black t-shirt — he just wasn’t one to pry.

Those same observant eyes were glued to the grieving widow and the blue-eyed toddler.

Her mind was pulled out of thoughts as Price approached her with a warm and tender expression in his eyes. In his hands were the dog tags, along with his keepsakes of his beloveds and in a small box was the wedding band. All of his personal belongings packed neatly into a box. Price knew he didn’t have to say anything to her for her to know that he was paying his respects to Johnny’s wife. Prior to the memorial service she had made it clear to Price that she wanted him to keep his ashes. She found they would get at least some closure from releasing them.

As Price drew her small frame in for a polite hug her son grew restless in her arms. She knew he was too young to understand that his father was gone, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable and upset from the lack of him. "Mama, it's cold" he fussed as he smushed his face farther onto her neck, "and your feet are getting wet. You're gonna catch a cold". She gave Price an apologetic smile as she turned her attention to her son now — Price had taken it as a signal to retreat. He now stood with two other men.

She couldn't help but smile at the innocence and kindness that exuded from her son. She gently patted his back to soothe his discomfort, "How about we get out of here and get some lunch?" she tried to speak in her most joyful tone, but even then it was coated in sorrow. The boy did not catch on to her somber response, and instead eagerly nodded his head as he perked up to look at his mother. That is when she realized how similar their son, Samuel, looked to his father. He mirrored him in nearly every aspect -- the eye shape and color, the dark hair, and even the mannerisms were similar. This could all be a fragment of her imagination -- she thought. Maybe it was part of her grieving process. She missed him so much that she began to look for him and could only find him perfectly in their Sammie. She was so consumed by her thoughts, that she had not realized the single salty tear that slipped out of her eye and down her cheek. Samuel hated to see his mother cry, he quickly brought his tiny hands up to her cheek and wiped it away with a slightly heavy palm. Usually, he would verbally comfort her — as best as a toddler could do, but all he did was lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his mother's forehead, "This always makes you feel better when Daddy does it". Does -- in present tense.

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She could not tolerate being at the memorial service for much longer, and neither could Samuel. She had buckled him into his car seat and handed him a strawberry and banana squeezable fruit pack and crackers to ease his rumbling tummy in the meantime.

However, as she closed the car door and turned her back to face the crowd of people one last time she was instead met with a tall, burly build of a man. His face was hidden by a balaclava, leaving only his eyes on display. But the rest of his face was not necessary to note that he was also grieving. She noticed him within the crowd of the memorial service as well -- she assumed that was one of Johnny's friends, but did not bother to congregate with anyone since Johnny kept his personal life completely separate from his work life. And if she was being honest with herself, she did not have the emotional stamina to socialize with people that spent months out of the year with her late husband.

"Sorry. Can I help you with something?" she asked the brute man. She stared up at him with her eyes slightly shut to avoid water from getting into them.

"He’s Johnny’s" was his only reply. For a moment she only blinked and stared at him and noted the heavy English accent. The mention of her late husband’s name stung as she now was fighting back tears. Yes, he is Johnny's son. His pride and joy -- was what she wanted to say, but she could barely muster up the strength to nod her head.

She could tell that the individual's lips tightened into a line by the way the fabric of his mask slightly stretched. "My name is Simon. I was a friend of Johnny's..." he attempted to continue speaking, but all he did was nervously rub the back of his neck. "Johnny meant a lot to me, a real friend of mine..." he trailed off again.

She knew he was grieving, but it was a different type of pain. She sensed guilt within his sadness, but she knew better than to ask about any specifics. Her kind nature and maternal habits took over as she saw Simon struggling to find his words. For whatever reason this man decided to make himself emotionally uncomfortable to introduce himself, she figured there would be no harm in easing his mind.

She knew who Simon was since Johnny would bring up his friend "Ghost" every now and then "I know who you are" she smiled warmly trying to be the emotional rock between the two, "How about you join us for some lunch. I think Sammie would love to talk to and get to know his Uncle Ghost" she spoke eagerly in an attempt to lighten the mood -- something that was usually Johnny's role.

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The three of them sat in a booth within a homely diner. The rain had completely let down at this point, the large drops of water hitting the roof of the diner with loud individual pats. Her hands were wrapped around a warm mug of coffee as she stared out the window watching blades of grass be temporarily smooshed by the inclement weather. The waitress had refilled her mug causing her gaze to turn towards her, her eyes softened and she gave the waitress a subtle nod to thank her. It was then that she realized that her son was wearing the ghost mask that was once on Simon. There was a glimmer of joy in Sam's eyes as he stood on the booth and gently hopped toward his mother to show her the "cool mask".

"I look so cool!" he exclaimed which only caused a chuckle to leave both her and Simon's mouths as the toddler's face was completely exposed through the eye hole on the mask -- his features obviously too small to fill the mask in the same manner. Upon hearing the slight laugh she turned to look at Simon, who she was surprised to see with dirty blonde hair. He was overall a handsome man, something that anyone would notice at first glance, but his eyes always conveyed a lot of emotion. Right now it was amusement tinged with pain as he stared at Sam. She knew he also noticed how strongly he resembles Johnny, and a part of her found comfort in knowing that she was not grieving alone. The way he looked at Sammie made her feel warm. She sensed that Simon knew Johnny deeper than most of the people at the memorial service — knowing that she found herself smiling at the thought of her being able to cherish Johnny’s memories with someone else.

The waitress had arrived with everyone's meals. Sam did not hesitate to dig into his plate. The toddler abruptly grabbed the bottle of syrup and drenched his pancakes in it. His careless behavior causing some of it to spill onto to the table, "Use your table manners please" she spoke sternly, but softly to the boy as she slipped him a napkin and a set of covered utensils.

"He looks just like him" he spoke in a gentle and respectful tone. His eyes rested on Sam -- who was now too focused on using his utensils properly to pay attention to the conversation happening in front of him.

Her hand wiped a strand of dark stray hair away from his forehead before she turned her attention toward Simon, who was now looking at her, "Yeah. Carried him for 9 months and he's got the nerve to look just like his father" she shrugged with a pained smile — her attempt to lighten the mood once again failing, "but I wouldn't have it any other way".

Simon took note of the sorrow hidden within the smile as his own face mirrored it out of empathy.

A few minutes had gone by and Samuel was still working on his meal, Simon had quickly eaten his, and she played with her food, tossing it around all over her plate in a desperate attempt to distract herself. How embarrassing would it be to break down at a family diner. "You should eat your lunch" he spoke. The deep voice dragging her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced down to look at his empty plate and her contrastingly full one. Casually shrugging off his suggestion she set her fork down and let out a soft sigh, "I'll just take it to go. I don't really have an appetite at the moment" she spoke in a casual tone — too causal of a tone. She was normally a social person, the type to be able to engage in conversation with any type of person for hours. Her personality was magnetizing in the sense that she was an incredibly open minded person, which only made her a vessel for hundreds on conversations, all of different topics and tones — a quality that Johnny loved about her. She was one of the few that would keep up with his mindless thoughts and nonsense ideas. That is where she was at the moment. In her mind she was thinking about the woman she was before she got the gut wrenching knock at her door. The knock where she was told by Laswell and Price that her husband was gone. “Killed in Action” were the words they used. “He died saving the world” was something Price added.

Sure he had died saving the world, but her and her son’s was destroyed. She was never a selfish person, but in that moment she wished the world would burn if it meant he was in her arms instead of merely a memory. She hadn’t noticed until recently that tears were flooding her cheeks and spilling onto her meal. Simon had been observing her for a moment as she watched her fall into deep thought, but once he saw her tear stained face he acted quickly.

He swiftly took his wallet out of his pocket and placed a $50 bill on the table to cover their meals and a decent tip, “Come on” he spoke in a demanding voice, his tone remaining soft enough for her and Sam to remain calm. Sam was oblivious to his mother’s current state as he had now distracted himself with the crayons and the kids menu.

She looked at Simon as she attempted to regain her composure. It was long gone, she was an emotional mess at the diner — exactly what she was trying to avoid. “It’s alright.” he coo’d as he took Sam into his arm. With his free hand he guided her out of the booth and to the exit.

He took the initiative to get the mother and son home as soon as possible. The three of them approached her car, “Get in and take a few deep breaths, yeah?” he instructed while simultaneously holding the door open for her. Sam had been buckled into his car seat, which Simon struggled to figure out, but the toddler being incredibly intuitive had seen his mother and father do it hundreds of times and was able to talk Simon through it.

If that had happened under different circumstances she would have been able to congratulate Sam and let him know how proud she is of him, but she was far from being in that state of self awareness and state of mind.

She was a wreck in the passengers seat of her own car. She was heartbroken in the passengers seat of her own car. The severity of it all finally setting in making it nearly impossible for her to get ahold of herself.

Is she just exhausted from the days leading up to the funeral? A weeks worth of concealed emotions finally spilling out in front of her. She is definitely overwhelmed, but this time she subconsciously feels safe and secure enough to let go of her broken front.

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Months had gone by since her meltdown in front of Simon, and he never once brought it up. He was well aware it wasn’t something she was proud of, nor did she want to talk about her grief. Simon had been coming around her and Samuel a couple times a week just to check in on the pair. He felt it was his responsibility to keep them safe now — the least he could do for his recently deceased friend. Everyday he spent with the two of them he realized why Soap had kept them a secret. They were truly too special to put into any risk; especially her. She was a walking breath of fresh air, not something anyone encounters often in their lifetime, especially not in their line of work and the lifestyle it supplies. Now it all made sense. Johnny was always the most eager to return home when they’d be out in the field, said he had “something special” waiting for him, but everyone would shrug it off.

He grew to understand Soap’s decision to keep his family hidden from the world he worked in.

Even though Simon was consumed in his own thoughts he was still able to be completely alert as the mother and son played on the playground.

Her laugh. It stripped him away from his spiraling memories and muses. His gaze snapped to her body on the floor covered in wood chips, she had clearly tripped and stumbled while playing with Samuel. She was laughing at her clumsiness, laughing at how attentive Samuel was to his mother as soon as she hit the cushioned floor, “Sammie, I’m okay” she soothed him as he clung to her — small and gentle laughs leaving her full lips as she reacted to the entire scenario.

That was the first time Simon had heard her laugh.The sound of her sweet tone intoxicating to him. He couldn’t get enough, is what he mentally told himself as he walked over to her to help get back on her feet. Her soft and polished hand nestled and firmly gripped onto his rough and calloused one as he pulled her off the ground.

Guilt lingered in his being upon realizing how much he liked being around her, but he needed to be there for them. The conflict was clear within him, and something he figures he’ll eventually learn to accept and move forward with. He knew he would have to set aside his audacious feelings to respect her and more importantly to respect Johnny. He would be there to protect them as much as she allowed him. He wasn’t planning on getting emotionally attached to the the pair, or her alone.

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Later that same evening, Simon had made the decision to pay her and Sammie a visit. He stepped out of his car with a bag of Chinese takeout in his hand. Chinese food had become the only thing she would willingly eat ever since Johnny passed. A swift hand smoothing his plain black t-shirt before he began walking toward her front door, but as soon as his hand left his clothing he realized what he was doing. Bringing her favorite food to her and her son with no real reason to be seeing her, checking his appearance — something uncommon for the typically aloof man. A lingering hint of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he treaded towards the front door of her house. No, Simon was only supposed to be there for the mother and son duo as an aide during this severe loss. He felt that’s what he owed to Johnny since he felt partially responsible for his death. A cocktail of traumatic thoughts and memories invaded his mind . The grip on the take-out bag grew stronger, the same strength being felt in his chest as his heart pounded in its cavity

Upon reaching the front door he heard what sounded like a glass had broken — as if it had fallen off of a surface, which isn’t a big deal, she had a bad habit off leaving glasses on the edge of countertops and tables, but the yelp that followed only made Simon react in the most instinctive manner. He rushed inside the house and into the kitchen where she was found with a dish towel wrapped around her hand and a grimace on her face. Her nose scrunched in reaction to the pain.

Simon raised an eyebrow at her as he approached her with swift and long strides. His demeanor was urgent, alarmed and slightly panicked as his body was still in a reactive state from his memories, but how could she know that? She stared at him with the same expression, but she had more reason to. His breathing wasn’t heavy but it was slightly sporadic. At the same time, it was still controlled, his body was tense, but most significantly, his eyes looked panicked and unsettled. “I didn’t know you’d be visiting tonight. You should have let me know,” she spoke casually as she continued holding pressure on her fresh wound, “Or else I wouldn’t have-“ her words stopped flowing when Simon grabbed her hand and began to examine the brand-new cut. She watched his concerned expression lighten when he confirmed that the abrasion was small enough to heal on its own, “- let my mom take him for the weekend.” She finally completed her sentence when his large brown eyes met hers.

She knew exactly what was happening to him. She recognized the wide, alert eyes, uneven breathing, and tense mannerisms. This was a common occurrence that she witnessed Johnny experience. Her husband was gone, but there were constant reminders of him everywhere -- and one thing she hated seeing was Johnny struggling with his PTSD. Just like Johnny, she couldn't tolerate seeing Simon in the same condition.

Using her unharmed hand, she grabbed Simon's calloused one. Her movements were gentle and fluid as she guided their hands to the left side of her chest. With his palm now resting on her chest she looked into his eyes before speaking in a nurturing tone. "Slow and steady. Count it for me" she said as she placed her own hand over his chest. It was then that she noticed how hard and fast his heart pounded. "I’ll count yours until we match pace. One, two, three..."

Eventually, Simon counted with her, his heart rate slowing gradually as his mind remained distracted from the trauma and focused on her. On her beating heart, on her nurturing voice, on her full pink lips, on her long dark eyelashes, on her soft delicate hands. Her. His mind consumed by images of her, his newfound serenity.

Simon cannot help but feel guilty, but his pleasure and serene state strongly blinds him from this feelings. This is exactly what he didn’t want, but he can’t help but relish in it.

#step dad #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #soapghost #john soap mctavish #dad ghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #dad!soap #dad!ghost

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bestdiamondjewelry1 · 9 months ago

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Types of Jewelry Repair Services for Worn-Out Pieces

People often spend a fortune on precious or semi-precious jewelry but forget to take care of them. Maintaining and caring for your jewelry is equally important. You can find many jewelers that offer post-purchase jewelry maintenance services. You must take your jewel to a reputable jeweler when it starts to wither.

#jewelry engraving services #ring resizing #jewelry creaning services #jewelry repair services #jewelry soldering services

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httpvomitello · 25 days ago

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could you do some hc for shredder ?

Hello, hello! Since you didn't specify which Shredder you wanted, I decided to do the 2014 one. Hope you like it ~ ♡♡♡♡

Shredder Headcanons

Shredder is not the kind of man who openly expresses love or affection. His love is quiet, subtle, and deeply possessive. He sees his partner as someone who belongs in his world, no matter how dark or dangerous it is

His protective nature is overwhelming. He would never admit to being worried, but he keeps a constant watch on his lover’s safety, ensuring no harm ever comes to them. If someone threatens them? It’s game over for that person

Shredder struggles with vulnerability, even with his lover. Letting his guard down feels like a weakness, but on rare occasions, he’ll allow himself moments of quiet peace with them. These moments are his escape from the chaos of his life

He admires strength and determination in his partner. Whether they are physically strong, mentally resilient, or simply have an unshakable sense of self, it’s what draws him to them

His love language is often through acts of service. He’s not the type to give sweet words, but he’ll ensure his lover’s needs are met, sometimes even before they know they have them

Shredder isn’t a jealous lover in the typical sense, but he is fiercely territorial. He doesn’t like the idea of anyone getting too close to his partner and will make it clear that they are under his protection

He struggles with his partner questioning his choices or morality. He loves them deeply, but his sense of purpose often conflicts with their ideals. This can lead to some arguments between them

If his lover gets involved in his work or the Foot Clan, Shredder becomes even more protective. He doesn’t want them getting hurt but respects their choice to stand by his side—so long as they don’t disobey him

He’s not much for gifts, but when he does give one, it’s always meaningful. A piece of jewelry engraved with something personal, a rare artifact tied to their interests—everything he does has a purpose

Shredder doesn’t say “I love you” often, but when he does, it’s with an intensity that makes his feelings undeniable. To him, love is not just an emotion—it’s a commitment, a promise to protect and cherish them no matter what.

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #they/them #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse leonardo #bayverse mikey #bayverse donnie #bayverse raphael #shredder #shredder 2014

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 6 days ago

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Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 20

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC)

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff, funeral

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Note: Happy New Year everyone! I can't believe we're already on Part 20 😱 I also can't believe it took a whole year to get here 😅 I'd like to say we're half-way through and I'll finish it up this year, but every chapter I plan magically turns into three, so we'll see. This chapter is definitely wayyyyy better than the last one. I got my mojo back. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @/beating-a-dead-plot

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The next morning, Wolffe woke before dawn and quietly rummaged through his box of personal belongings. His array of creative attempts to procure more credits the previous day had all failed miserably, but aside from flagrant begging, he wasn't ready to give up. While he drifted off to sleep, an idea had flashed across his mind–a last-ditch effort to secure his daughter's safety and well-being while he was gone. Looking for it in the pitch black of the room proved difficult, but when his finger slid across the smooth surface, he breathed a sigh of relief.

With the object in hand, he scooted across the floor to lean his back against the wall, raising his knees to rest his arms against them. As much as he wanted to admire the ring's golden sheen, the room was much too dark, so he settled for closing his eyes and rolling it between his fingers. His mind could still see it, recreate its shape, color, and glint, and even read the inscription on the inside as his fingers smoothed over the engraving. It was like seeing it in daylight under a microscope, every detail and imperfection his mind found and relayed back to him.

That was something clones were good at–finding their way in the dark, finding things in the dark, finding each other in the dark–and yet, ironically, they weren't born from the dark like everyone else in the universe. While other creatures were birthed from wombs, eggs, or other dark places, clones were birthed from clear tubes under the harshest of sterile white lights, and it was only through rigorous training that they learned to understand the dark. Clones might've been abominations of nature from birth, but they still died in darkness just like everyone else.

Wolffe leaned his head back against the wall and took a deep breath through his nose. Death wasn't something he normally dwelt on, but ever since his wife died, it was the only thing his mind would settle on. The multitude of thoughts was like waves crashing on a beach, slowly eroding his mental barricades and pulling pieces of himself back into the abyss. He had to get a grip or someone was going to die on his watch. Wolffe softly snorted and shook his head. There it was again–death. It wouldn't leave him alone.

He slipped the ring onto his finger and absentmindedly began rotating it with his thumb. Regardless of what his wife told him, he still maintained that it was not a nervous habit, and argued that it felt weird and that rotating it helped it not feel weird. His wife always rolled her eyes at the explanation but never pushed him to stop the habit. After all, it wasn't his fault that he couldn't wear it long enough to get used to it being there, and if he was being honest, it would most likely always feel foreign, which is how he convinced himself it was okay to sell it.

On his walk back from the nanny service, he had passed by a thrift shop with a bright neon sign on the window stating they purchased precious metals and jewelry. It had only been a peripheral glance, and his mind had been so preoccupied with getting back to the Temple to relieve Comet that it didn't connect. Luckily, his mind remembered, and that became his big plan–to sell the rings for the credits he needed to pay the nanny. Convincing himself to sell his ring wasn't difficult, however, convincing himself to sell his wife's ring was proving more difficult.

He patted his front pants pocket to find her ring nestled safely inside and then smoothed the pad of his finger around the edge in a continuous circle. It was so much smaller than his. So much so that he couldn't fit it on his pinkie finger if he tried, but then again, so was she. The size difference became a running gag from early on in their relationship and he took every chance he could to poke fun at her for it, with love, of course. Wolffe felt a pain shoot across his chest and, like a freight train out of nowhere, more memories rushed in.

Sometimes he would hold things up high, just out of reach to where she had to jump to try and get them. He'd laugh and she'd be fuming. Other times, he'd sit on the throw blanket on the couch, and she'd tug and tug to try and get it free from his weight, but she never could. He'd pretend to not be paying attention, but still smile at her struggling. They were both painfully fond memories, but ones where he could easily see the gold band shimmer on her finger as she tried so hard to get the upper hand. Could he sell it?

Sentimentality never befitted a clone, especially not a clone commander. Yes, he was fond of certain people, places, and things, but never fond enough to hold on so tightly his knuckles went white. Loss was a part of war. He lost things every rotation–battles, civilians, planets, clones–and if he had an emotional breakdown every time, he'd be decommissioned. The Malevolence incident never broke him, and he wasn't about to break now. This decision couldn't be a matter of fondness. It had to be a matter of duty to his daughter, and that was it.

He didn't need a ring to remind him of his wife or what they had together for such a brief time. Even if he didn't have Cara, a walking, living, breathing piece of his wife, he'd still never forget her, because he placed her memories neatly inside a box and tucked them away next to another box on the proverbial shelf of his mind where everything was arranged in alphabetical order for quick location. Was he happy that Maria sat next to Manuals? Not entirely, because every time he reached for Manuals, he'd see her in his peripheral vision and be reminded of what he lost.

While Wolffe was well-buried in his thoughts, a thin strip of yellow-orange light appeared on the floor next to him from the window above where he was sitting, alerting him that the sun was rising and it was time to get a move on. He removed his wedding ring and slipped it into his pocket where it settled next to his wife's ring. At least the rings could be together. Wolffe huffed at the sentimental thought and quickly picked himself up off the floor. The rings belonged in the box now, not in his pocket, and that's all he needed to keep telling himself to get through this.

Cara struggled with being awoken before the sun was fully up, which was no surprise to Wolffe. It had become their new normal–she'd whine and he'd sigh. At least with her awake he had a distraction from his thoughts and could focus on what he needed to accomplish–sell the rings and pay the nanny. It didn't matter a whole lot to him whether Cara liked the nanny or not, or for that matter if he did because neither of them had a choice. She'd learn to like her, and he'd only have to deal with her when he was back from deployment.

However, getting Cara presentable enough to meet the nanny was something that he had to deal with now, and for reasons he could not explain, she was being fussy. She didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want a bath. She didn't want to put clothes on. She didn't want her hair to be brushed. Every single part of the process was a fight, and every cry, scream, kick, and flail was another chip knocked off of Wolffe's patience. It was like the world was suddenly ending if, Maker forbid, she put her shoes on. Of all the days, why did it have to be this one?

Finally, after thirty minutes of wrestling and arguing, they could leave the Temple. Did she want to go? No. Wolffe was baffled by her logic. She was so eager to go out with him in the morning, but then all of a sudden going anywhere with him was the purest form of torture. He bet his wife never had to deal with this level of insubordination. Maybe it was just a father thing, or maybe she went to bed too late, or maybe it was a million other reasons. Regardless, they were leaving, even if he had to drag her, they were going.

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karlachismylife · 5 months ago

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Total eclipse of the heart

re-posting this since it was buried by that shadowban, so sorry if you've already seen this, i appreciate every one of you!!

Dog tags can be so many things, learns Karlach when she spots an unfamilar piece of jewelry among other alien things Soap brought from his world.

Second part (NSFW) here - Worshipping the Sun

Everything about these four men was foreign and piqued curiosity: from their clothes and ammunition to the way they spoke and treated every task given as a unit. Believing they came from another world wasn't that hard given the unfortunate circumstances, what's news about some other dimension after you were literally carrying a "gift" that travelled through space in your head? If there were illithids, githyanki, devils and gods, was it really so unbelievable that somewhere else there was a world with buildings that could house hundreds of people and weapons able to kill that same amount of people in mere seconds? Yet somehow these four very mortal, very normal men were more of a mystery than whatever Gale was hiding under his robe or Shadowheart kept in her pocket.

It was mostly in how different their reality seemed to what everyone else in the party knew. No matter how well they were trained to adapt to anything and everything, coming to terms with magic, shapeshifters and pacts with devils was much harder for those who called themselves "task force 141" than it was for every other member of the party to get used to their unusual arsenal of (mostly useless now as it turned out) weapons or tales of "tanks" and "helicopters". They surely tried to hide it, but the wariness that showed in their stances when approaching the most mundane things like a little water creation scroll was noticeable even in the less readable Ghost, even moreso in the expressive Soap. He would curse, mouth agape, thick accent and wide open blue eyes, no matter if he saw a goblin horde charging their way or Halsin having a thoughtful conversation with a random squirrel. At the beginning Johnny even had a bruise on his tanned arm from earnestly pinching it every time he witnessed something out of the ordinary; Ghost kept chastasing him for putting on a full comedy yet not even once refused to pinch his sergeant when asked.

To be honest, Karlach thought it was very funny.

She was a whole bunch of unbelievable things put into one for him; from the devilish appearance to the god forsaken engine, and her quickly growing friendship - or comradery - with the task force and especially Johnny allowed for the longest conversations consisting mainly of questions about every single thing they found odd in each other. She would sit next to him, a safe distance to keep poor lad from cooking alive, smiling cheeks propped onto big red palms and tail curling and swishing as Soap told her about random Earth bullshit - grenades, football clubs, obscure scottish alt bands... and Karlach definitely tried her best to imagine all those wild things, even if her interpretation sometimes was slightly off.

"What's that?" Her claw pointed at his chest, making Soap glance down. Was she talking about his vest? He pushed his thumbs under the heavy weight and lifted it slightly off his shoulders, cocking a bushy eyebrow. "No, I meant this... is that an amulet? You better keep an eye on it, soldier, I heard Gale's getting hungry. What's it for?"

His dog tags. He almost forgot about the dangling pieces, two non-reflecting circles with an engraving that wouldn't make much sense to Karlach even if she could read it. With a chuckle, Soap pulled the chain off and wrapped it around his fist, showing off dark letters to the tiefling's marvelling gaze.

"Nae, lass, these aren't an amulet. Tis 'n identification tag. So that they'll ken what name tae put on a grave even if mah handsome mug is in ten different places." Karlach scooted even closer, narrowing her tiger eyes in an attempt to look properly. "Tis here mah name, mah blood type, mah service number... the whole lad in five lines. Quite concise, isnae it?"

Concise it was. Those little characters stamped into firm steel were unreadable to her, yet they were everything that would be left of Johnny for sure in this world. No one would remember him as a kid playing football, not a crying widow clutching her wedding band, no devastated mother with a family picture in a black frame, no bookshop keepers that used to scold him for sneaking a peek or two into the adult magazines at the age of fifteen. Even when the whole party would be gone, failed to preserve each other, turned into tentacle-faced mosters or buried in a desolated place, there would be someone to remember, someone to mourn.

Yet everything Johnny and his lads would have are these little steel discs that will never tell anyone how deep the northern sea in his eyes was, how invisible the formiddable mount of Ghost could get in any environment, how fast Gaz could solve a puzzle even in a temple of an unknown god in a land he didn't know even existed, how lush was Price's beard... a number, a name and a religion no one in Faerûn even heard of. Here, in a whole another world, these tags danglng over Soap's knuckles were nothing more than just a constant reminder of impending death. A part of his grave already hanging down from his neck.

"Not much use of it here then, is there?" Karlach couldn't keep the flooding thoughts inside. She looked up at Johnny's smiling - still smiling, like he was proud to show off how little would be left of him - face. "They didn't give us anything like this in Avernus. Probably just as useless anyway, no one's burying anyone there. No one cares."

"Take 'em." He said it with such ease. Reached out his hand and let go of the chain, allowing it to slip right into Karlach's catching grasp. The tags were still carrying that barely noticeable warmth of his palm, and Karlach squeezed them instinctively, savouring this surrogate touch with eyes shut and breath slightly wavering. "I'm in no rush to die, eh. "'N ye get to ken wha' it's like to be a part o' a team tha' cares."

Karlach opened her eyes and looked at the slowly heating up tags on her big palm. The initial devastating thought of wearing your own death around your neck slowly withered away, like a large piece of ash on the wind. Being a part of the team, knowing there were other soldiers to have your back... that was a thought she could get behind.

"Doesn't feel right, mate. They're yours, your name and everything..." Before she could even give them back, Soap stood up, grabbing his gun like a kid dragging a toy by its little plush paw.

"Och, tis right if ah give them to ye. C'mon, just wear them until we make ye yer own." Johnny checked one of the straps on his thigh and then suddenly winked at Karlach. "Besides, maybe ah just wanntae see ye sportin' mah name around tha' bonnie neck, soldier. Fur protection purposes, ye ken."

She blinked, feeling her cheeks - and engine for that matter - slightly heating up, and then quickly slid the chain over her head, careful not to catch it with horns. Hanging on her chest, the dark round plate in front of glowing sunshine of her engine looked like a solar eclipse.

"So it is an amulet after all," she muttered, touching now warm metal with clumsy fingers. Soap smirked, unable to hide his own blush. Despite a heavy tactical vest his chest seemed vulnerable and bare without the tags. Like anyone would be able reach a hand and rip his heart out as they did to Karlach.

Well, they would be able if his heart wasn't already snatched.

"Aye, bonnie. Fur ye it is."

#yes soap is down bad for karlach wearing his tags #so am i #part two maybe??#karlach x soap #karlach #bg3 karlach #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod #call of duty #fluff #a little angst #oneshot #fanfic

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tab00-t33f · 1 month ago

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Holiday headcanons (JoFoes x Reader)

Kars

What You Receive: An exquisite piece of art carved by Kars himself—likely a statue or an intricate piece of jewelry. He takes pride in creating something immortal, like himself.

What You Gift Him: A telescope to observe the stars or something related to his fascination with perfection and nature. He’s surprisingly touched, though he hides it well.

Holiday Activities: Kars isn’t interested in frivolities but will indulge you by taking a midnight walk under the stars or letting you playfully drape ornaments on him. He’ll eventually join in after some persuasion.

Esidisi

What You Receive: A fur-lined cloak or a stunning outfit he personally picked to highlight your best features. He’s all about extravagance.

What You Gift Him: A music box with a melody reminiscent of his homeland or something nostalgic for his ancient memories. He’ll tear up and act like it didn’t happen.

Holiday Activities: Esidisi throws himself into the festivities with fiery enthusiasm, whether it’s cooking a feast or decorating. Be prepared for intense, competitive snowball fights.

Wamuu

What You Receive: A handcrafted weapon or tool to symbolize his respect for your strength and individuality. If you don’t fight, it’s something practical yet meaningful.

What You Gift Him: A woven scarf or cloak with designs inspired by his culture. He treasures it deeply, seeing it as a token of your connection.

Holiday Activities: Wamuu will enjoy quiet traditions, like lighting candles or sharing stories by the fire. He’s also open to teaching you about ancient customs from his time.

Dio Brando

What You Receive: Something both beautiful and sinister—a black diamond ring or a mirror with a gothic design. He wants you to feel regal, like his queen/king.

What You Gift Him: A rare artifact or something that appeals to his ego, like a painting or sculpture inspired by him. He’ll laugh and claim it’s only natural.

Holiday Activities: Dio keeps the holidays dark and indulgent, with wine, an extravagant feast, and plenty of drama. Expect moments where he’s possessively affectionate.

Yoshikage Kira

What You Receive: A perfectly chosen, practical gift, like gloves or a scarf—anything to ensure you’re both stylish and discreetly cared for.

What You Gift Him: A watch or tie that suits his understated yet impeccable taste. He’ll admire your attention to detail and wear it daily.

Holiday Activities: Kira enjoys quiet, cozy nights. You’ll wrap gifts together (he’s unnervingly precise), watch classic movies, and sip tea or wine by the tree. He’ll relax more than usual, enjoying your presence.

Diavolo/Doppio

What You Receive: Diavolo gives you something opulent, like designer clothing or jewelry, while Doppio surprises you with a sweet, homemade card or trinket.

What You Gift Him: For Diavolo, a rare or expensive item that symbolizes his power. For Doppio, something cute and heartfelt, like a plushie or personalized mug.

Holiday Activities: Diavolo avoids public celebrations but ensures you’re treated to the finest meal and decorations. Doppio will excitedly help you bake cookies or decorate, beaming with pride at every small accomplishment.

Enrico Pucci

What You Receive: A meaningful gift, like a rare book of scripture or an elegant piece of jewelry tied to his ideals and philosophies. He’ll present it with reverence, emphasizing the connection it symbolizes between you.

What You Gift Him: A vintage rosary, a beautifully crafted bookmark, or something thoughtful that reflects his devotion and intellect. He’ll be quietly touched, cherishing it more than he lets on.

Holiday Activities: Pucci enjoys peaceful, contemplative traditions—lighting candles, listening to soft hymns, and having deep discussions by the fire. He’d take you to a midnight service, sharing his quiet reverence with you.

Funny Valentine

What You Receive: An elegant but patriotic gift, like a brooch or pocket watch engraved with subtle American motifs. It’s a token of both his affection and his ideals.

What You Gift Him: A framed historical artifact or document that ties into his interests. He admires your attention to his passion for history and symbolism.

Holiday Activities: Valentine plans a formal, grand celebration, complete with a lavish dinner. He’ll also spend time walking with you through snow-covered grounds, discussing his vision for the future while showing his softer side.

Tooru

What You Receive: A trendy, expensive gadget or piece of tech—he always picks something he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll act casual about it but secretly craves your praise.

What You Gift Him: A sleek accessory, like a watch or phone case, that complements his effortlessly cool aesthetic. He’ll thank you with his usual laid-back charm.

Holiday Activities: Tooru keeps the holidays casual but memorable—watching movies, sharing snacks, and teasing you about your decorating skills. He’s surprisingly clingy and enjoys lazy cuddles by the fire.

#f4ngfict0n #jjba headcanons #jjba #jofoes #holiday

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