day 6!!!
Drew these one I was out today. The pink one was done in glitter pen.
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@cascade05
day 6!!!
Drew these one I was out today. The pink one was done in glitter pen.
i dunno y but i’m always calling my brother and sometimes my dad baby girl. it was a joke thing in the beginning, but now it’s just habit lol
so that brings me to the main point which is I’d totally be calling Simon baby girl and i think his reaction to it would be a Simon eyebrow raise the first few times. but once it becomes a habit he’s just like ok so this is what’s happening cool.
my versions of simon will always have a lisp or some kind of speech impediment (idk if that counts as a headcanon???idfk)
it’s a big part of the reason he’s so quiet, reverts to grunting and nodding. not because he’s miserable. he’s shy.
he grew up with no one talking to him, not his mam and certainly not his da, teachers would just kind of…ignore him; too scared to open his mouth at school and be either judged for the way he spoke or berated the same way he was at home. kids were cruel, hissing after him on the playground until he resorted to sitting under the coat hook at break times, tucked away to himself.
he left school early, dropped out to join the service and never finished his GCSEs, not to mention he was bottom set for everything anyway. he knew he was clever, could do shit with his hands and was decent at science and history, but everything else he just…couldn’t be bothered. refused to answer questions, never put his hand up, was in detention for ignoring teachers more times than he wasn’t.
even now, he’s known as the silent giant. looms in the corner of the room, a towering wall of imposing silence and shadow.
only you know, in the quiet of his bunk, just and so audible over the hum of his desk fan and the constant noise of the barracks. only you know how gentle he sounds. stumbles slightly over his words, sometimes he means one thing and says another, sometimes he has to whisper just to be brave enough to get the words out. but it’s only ever you. the one person he feels safe enough to talk to. and sometimes, when he gets in his own head, gets stuck in a rut and feels like he’s being buried alive again, you don’t hear his voice for weeks.
no one ever taught him how to speak. so he just…doesn’t.
Dad Simon × Wife Reader
༺♡༻
Simon Riley was a nightmare of a dad. One wrong move and he grounded his son for a whole week. No calls. No going out. No friends. Nothing but staying in and fucking studying.
You walked into your home after a soul-crushing day to find your only child, Tom, and his friends clustered in the living room, bags slung over shoulders, laughter too loud. They were heading out, again.
"Tom, baby, no" you said, setting your bag down. "It’s too late. It’s ten already."
"Ma, it’s fine" he said easily. Too easily. "I’ll be back in an hour. And if not, I’ll just crash at Ric’s -"
"No. Absolutely not. Nuh-uh."
He groaned. "Mom, I’m seventeen."
You turned slowly and looked him dead in the eye. "Exactly."
He scoffed and stood up - and Christ, he was already almost Simon’s height. Broad shoulders. Long limbs. Too big, too fast. Your chest tightened. You’d always been scared shitless of big men.
You remembered the first time you met Simon - bumping into him on your way back from partying with friends, freezing when you looked up and saw just how massive he was. Towering over you. You’d panicked and sprinted across the street like your life depended on it.
And yet years go by and he’d been the only man who ever mattered.
The only one who sat when you entered a room. The only one who shifted his stance to seem smaller at crowded dinners. The one who always knelt down to hear you better as you rambled on about your day.
You didn't even know he was in special forces when you started dating him. Yet he was the only one who bent the world around you instead of the other way around.
"Tom" you said sharply as his friends grabbed their things.
"I said no. You aren’t leaving. It’s dangerous, and have you even seen the news? That psycho killer still hasn’t been caught-"
"Ma, move" His voice dropped. Firm, just like his dad. "I’m goin."
He nudged past you.
Your hand shot out on instinct, fingers wrapping around his wrist. "I said no baby it's not safe. And you're not going."
He turned and looked down at you. God...
Your body betrayed you.
Your breath hitched. Your limbs locked. Too tall. Too close. Your heart slammed violently against your ribs.
"Ma" he muttered, irritation creeping in. "Let go."
You didn’t. Hell you couldnt even hear him. It's like your system had a shut down.
He shoved your hand away - not hard. Barely anything at all.
But it was enough.
Your foot slipped. Pain exploded up your ankle as you stumbled and went down with a sharp cry.
my dad gets this shitty disappointed dad face when a period is even breathed about and it ticks me off so hardcore and i just want you all to know that Simon isn’t the guy to be bothered by a little blood sooooo
i used to write this character who was this badass chick who went through shit and it made her hard and she don’t put up with no bs. she’s cold and calculating and street smart, but deep down she is kind. she cares about a small group of people. it’s hard to become part of that small circle, but once you’re in, she’d die for you. break her trust and she’ll kill you
now i write these sort ladies who’ve been through shit and are independent but it’s just this wall, but the moment the guy she likes breaks through that wall, she wants more—wants to be taken care of, wants to have lazy days, wants to be soft, wants to do absolutely nothing but bask in his warmth.
and i’m just saying team, i think it’s aaaaaaall connected to my mental state 😌
Simon wasn’t alive. Not really.
Well, he was—alive that is. He supposed—no, he knew. Yes. He was alive, but not living. Not living for anything more than the next meal, the next mission, the next kill. And even those… they didn’t bring him any satisfaction. They gave him purpose, but he didn’t feel like he had a purpose.
He was hanging in this suspended state where he could see everything in his life, but he wasn’t touching anything. He wasn’t feeling anything. He was just… there, waiting for the rope to snap and his neck to break when he finally crashed into the ground.
Simon was living, but not alive.
And then he met you
hot take, Simon Riley is terrible at keeping a poker face cause he always wears a mask so he never needs to think about schooling his expression but ne naturally has a resting bitch face and rarely feels like smiling so it’s hard to tell
So like..... Jason Todd. Yeah? We know him? Second Robin? Kidnapped and tortured by Joker? Arkham Knight? Severely fucked in the head cause of Joker? Did I mention Joker ruined his life? We still know him? Cool. So Jason Todd x Joker's daughter–
feeling cute today might get in a fistfight with my annoying coworker later 😌💕💕
Sweet Little Sugar ✧ Benny Cross
Benny Cross x Fem OC Drabble ✧ Warnings: Short, not a x reader cause it read better with specifics, unedited, sorta a part two to this
"Look at you..."
Annalise smiled softly at Benny's mumbled words.
That damn Benny Cross... He was always so sweet...
He chuckled at the sight; his pretty girl wearing the baby blue dress Johnny's wife had gifted her at the last picnic. And what a gift... Simple, sure, but on her? Benny woulda believed it was a million dollars because that's what his girl looked like.
It was different. Annalise always wore trousers and shirts–practical as opposed to pretty–but here she was. Pretty as a flower and twice as sweet. It was different.
Nice different...
Benny pushed off the pool table that he had been leaning against before meeting Annalise halfway. He stopped before her, the tips of his old boots inches from her pretty white flats. "Look at you..." he muttered again, taking his hands from his pockets as his blue eyes looked her up and down, noticing how the soft blue fabric fell on her form.
From the sweet doll-like shoes she was wearing to her pretty little twin braids, he took her in before he took her hand in his. "Give me a spin, doll," her requested, voice filled with awe.
Annalise let him guide her in a small twirl. The flowy skirt of her dress lifted slightly, and she laughed softly to herself when a few other bikers at the bar gave playful whistles. "Looks good?" she asked to the only man there who's thoughts really mattered to her.
He smiled, pulling her a bit closer and leaning down to brush his lips against the freckles on the back of her hand. "Looks perfect, sugar," he told her, and by God did he mean every bit of it.
Benny's free hand went to her waist and he tugged her just a bit closer. Just a bit...
A smile spread on his face; a bit boyish and a bit sweet. A bit not so Benny Cross; rider in the Vandals; but more like Benny–her Benny, if she'd only have him. "What's a sweet little thing like you doing in a place like this?" Silly–stupid, really, but Benny decided it was worth it when she rolled her eyes. More specifically, when he saw that smile threaten to spread on her freckled face. As if she could hide that with a toss of her pretty green eyes. She could try though. He didn't mind a bit.
Annalise gave his chest a soft couple of pats before whisking him away to the pool table, hand in hand. "Are you in the middle of a game, Benny?" she asked him, eyeing the scattered balls on the green felt.
He eyed her instead, admiring the light in those sweet eyes and the carefree air around her. He liked her like this; happy.
Benny only responded to her once she turned around and looked at him expectantly. He shrugged before releasing her hand, opting instead to drape an arm around her shoulders and pull her in close to his side. "Nah."
The two men he'd been playing with had long since moved to the bar to give Benny and his girl some space alone.
Benny grabbed a cue and handed it to the girl under his arm. She took it and gave it a once over before turning her attention to the pool table. Her head tilted as her eyes moved. No doubt in Benny's mind she was figuring for a good shot.
Smart girl.
Always was.
"Was waiting for you," Benny finished saying before pressing his lips to the crown of her head.
Annalise grinned, a dimple appearing in her cheek like always and Benny fought the urge to kiss that too. Like always.
"You wanna break, babydoll?" he asked against her soft hair.
She could feel him smile when she nodded and that made her smile too. "Course I do," she replied softly.
Course she did. She always loved taking the first shot and Benny'd let her take every first shot. All she needed to do was show up and it was hers.
All she needed to do was show up.
And he was hers.
Sweet Little Sugar ✧ Benny Cross
Warnings: Lots of self-doubt and depreciation from our main girl, not a x reader cause it read better with specifics, mentions of injury but nothing graphic, mentions of abuse but again not too in depth, a couple swearwords lol, not really proofread, kinda long, and maybe an ooc Benny Cross not sure lol
Annalise didn’t have much in life. She didn’t have the looks most men went for, or that’s what her dad told her. Untrendy long brown hair she often kept back in a messy braid rather than the puffy bouffant hairstyles most women her age had. Her dad said she was sloppy. She knew a hairstyle like that would get messed up at work.
He didn’t like her freckles either. Said the fact she was covered in them made her look unkempt and dirty. He said she was undesirable and nothing like her busty blue-eyed mother. Annalise just liked to think she was average. She didn’t have much in life. Didn’t have a mother no more–only God knows where that woman had run to once Annalise was born. They weren’t too wealthy either; house bit on the simple side, clothes a bit on the worn, out-of-fashion side. Her dad said it was because she was lazy. Annalise liked to think she was doing her best. She didn’t have much in life, like she said. Just had herself, her drunken deadbeat dad, and her best friend who got into far too much trouble.
A trail of smoke wafted through Annalise’s stuffy old bedroom. She never used to care for the smell, but now she didn’t mind so much. It reminded her of him anyway. Was a bit of a comfort now actually.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice a bit rough from the long silence between them–the disuse.
He was always good at hiding his pain behind a wall of quiet and a face handsome enough to make a nun swoon, and as hard to read as a dirty secret. But his voice had traces of concealed pain, and Annalise could see the wince he tried to hide when he sat up in her bed.
She coulda scolded him for that; for moving and getting grime on her baby blue comforter, along with cigarette ash. But she didn’t. Instead, she focused on cleaning up the cut on his stomach from whatever altercation it was that he got into. Maybe that was why they got along so good; she and Benny. He was always hurting and she was good at patching people up–lord knows she had plenty of practice with it herself. “I’m telling ya, should see the other guy,” Benny mumbled through his cigarette. His lazy words were met with a disbelieving snort and the press of an alcohol-soaked rag on his stomach. He leaned his head back and took a good long drag of his cigarette. Annalise would’ve said it was to hide the pain, but part of her wondered if he really felt pain or just pretended to. With the amount of times he snuck into her room covered in cuts, bruises, and whatnot she’d assume he didn’t really feel them.
“Well,” she dabbed the wound with care, “if he looks half as bad as you, then I’d say he looks pretty awful,” she mumbled. He chuckled quietly, and Annalise looked up to meet his blue eyes when he did. She looked back down. “What’d you fight about this time? Was it about you wearin’ your colors again?”
That was usually what it was about; Benny refusing to take off his jacket because he was proud to be one of the Vandals, and he was loyal as a dog to Johhny.
Benny chuckled again, dry and rough. She oughta get him some water, she thought, but she continued with his wound for now. He lifted a calloused hand, using it to gently tilt Annalise’s chin so her big green eyes would look at him. “Not this time, sugar,” he assured her.
MHA x OC Prologue
Warnings: Fire ig, just a lil snippet of the real thing, not full prologue btw
Tsukauchi found himself watching the limping hero instead. Then, his eyes went back to the fire. Something else exploded, and the inferno roared in response, echoing loudly into the siren-riddled night, reverberating a doubtless promise. The flames would not be dying out anytime soon. "What a nightmare," the man repeated.
"I have to agree."
Tsukauchi blinked in surprise before turning around. He only had a second to see the man before a badge blocked his view. "The Hero Commission?" he read stupidly.
'What's the commission doing here?' he wondered.Sure, it was a very intense situation, but representatives of the commission sent aid. They never came in person, not in Tsukauchi's experience. It would ruin their freshly pressed suits, the detective thought bitterly.
The relationship between the police force and the Hero Commission was tense. It had always been. The police wanted to solve cases and catch villains, whereas the commission seemed content to sweep incidents under the rug. Of course, they apprehended the villains responsible for the crimes–by whatever means necessary–but never let the police know who it was. That usually left the police with a severe lack of evidence and an abundance of cold cases. If that made the commission come to Tokyo, Tsukauchi wouldn't just sit back.
yeaaaah soooo…. if you’ve sent me an ask an I haven’t responded, I’m sorry. My inbox here says I have 3 messages, but when I click on it, it says my inbox is empty…. so….. yeah…..
Small snip, thought i had while I was working.
Imagine Simon waking up next to you, no biggie, not the first time he woke up next to a stranger.
Problem he does not remember who you are, how he ended up at your house. Whatever, Johnny's fault for wanting to bar hop, he just needs to find his phone.
That's when he notices a ring on his finger.
His brain stops working, he is sitting on your bed for 15 minutes staring at the golden band.
You, on the other hand, wake up screaming that there is a stranger in bed- even more- there is a gorgeous rock on your finger.
You're freaking out, marrying a stranger while your drunk was not on your horoscope for this week.
Meanwhile, Simon's brain is going through the pros and cons. Pros: you're handsome/gorgeous, this means he doesn't need to live in the barracks and have to deal with cleaning inspection. The only con he can think of is that he has to live with you due to the military policy on marriages and you've seen his face.
Well, looks like you're married, congrats.
Simon finally finds his phone to Johnny texting him what the hell happened last night and finds photos of your court house wedding.
*sigh* the feminine urge to kiss a big beefy man so he calls me pretty
Giddy, screaming in my pillow, kicking my feet because just imagine your fav’s warm chest under your ear… burying your face in his shirt… taking in his scent… smiling against his skin at the lazy way he draws his fingers up and down your spine, an action that both soothes you and makes you nuzzle deeper into his chest like you could make a home in the cavern of his ribs because you feel all fluttery and warm; nervous but in a fun, schoolgirl kind of way
Thinking about his hand on your hip, heavy and warm over the fabric of your sleepwear as you look up at him with a soft, content expression feeling all sorts of mushy and gummy and sweet because he’s got a life to live and probably a few things to do, yet he chose cuddling here with you and you feel like you don’t deserve it but you’re staying here all the same.
Unedited, feel like this applies to any and all characters really, just feeling uber mushy as of late… dunno