Multi-Fandom ● Imagine & Things ●

Chelsea || 34 || She/Her ||Asexual A Blog dedicated to create drabbles, imagines, one-shots and more for all the fandoms. *Character banners made by me* *icon made by ixelx* Request info for things– imagines (with a gif + a very short piece of dialogue)– drabbles (up to 300 words less than 1000 } – one-shots{ > 1000 words} – series

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Master List of Writings.

✨: Avatar: The Last Airbender Master List.

✨: Cured { Leon Kennedy mini series }

✨: 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖪𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖣𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗈𝗇 { Ser Dunk mini series }

✨: The Green apple & The Rose { Raymun Fossoway mini series }

✨: The Lord and The Handmaiden { Lyonel Baratheon mini series }

✨:𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗵’𝘀 𝗗𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 The 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲

✨: Game Of Thrones Master List.

✨:DC Master List.

✨: Bunny Wife Mini Series ( Robert Robertson )

✨:🦇 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬🦇

✨:Fantastic Four Master List.

✨:Marvel Master List.

✨: Halloween Dads.

✨:Final Destination Master List.

✨:Pretty In Pink || Erik Campbell Mini Series ||

✨:Supernatural Master List.

✨:Stranger Things Master List.

✨:Stranger Things Master List Pt2.

✨:Resident Evil Master List.

✨:The Last Of Us Master List

✨:Video Game One-Shots and Drabbles Master List.

✨:A Christmas Carol Master List.

✨:Call Of Duty Master List.

✨:Bridgerton Master List.

✨:Supermassive Master List.

✨:Tis The Season Master List.

✨:Kinktober Master List 2023.

✨:Blue Eye Samurai Master List.

✨:Tis The Season 2023

✨:Jujutsu Kaisen Master List

✨:Hazbin Hotel Master List.

✨: Hazbin Hotel Master List part 2

✨:Lackadaisy Master List

✨:Gravity Falls Master List

✨: Kinktober 2024.

✨: House MD Master List.

✨:Tis the season 2024.

✨:Harry Potter Master List.

✨:Anime Master List.

✨:Greek Mythology (Epic the musical) Master list

✨:Disney Master List.

✨:Star Wars Master list

My name is Chelsea, I am 34 year's old and I work full time, I love to write and make anyone happy. This blog is a safe space, hate will never be tolerated so If you are a nasty person please get fucked and off my page!

I loove animals,my favorites are Seal's white tigers, Beluga whales and wolves. I love playing video games, to read and collect things that I fan over.

I will not write incest.

I will not write Proship things ( you will never see a child x Adult fic )

Smut fics are between 3 consenting Adults.

I do not / will not ever write Canon x Canon fics so please stop asking.

Certain kinks I will not write for ( I am pretty vanilla, the furthest I will go is bdsm )

I will not write a reader / character is a cheater fic, if you want a cheating sub plot then pick the character who is the cheater and someone else for the reader to get with because I will never write a fic where cheaters are forgiven.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I keep saying I'll write for Vox Machina but I never do, I need someone to tell me to write for it and the characters cause I really wanna write for Vox

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Are you open to writing characters from the Batman Arkham games?

Yesssssss

I freaking love those games...unless its the Joker, he's probably the one I wont write for

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Angel Powers || Dean Winchester ||

A/n: Girl!Dad Dean Winchester anyone 👀

The first time your daughter accidentally teleported a stuffed dinosaur into the refrigerator, Dean had blamed himself.

The second time she made every lightbulb in the house explode because she couldn’t find her favorite coloring book, he blamed Cas.

The third time she floated three feet off the living room floor while asleep, wrapped in her dinosaur blanket like the world’s tiniest angel burrito, Dean had finally accepted that maybe raising a nephilim wasn’t going to come with an instruction manual.

Especially not when that nephilim was four years old.

“Dean.”

“Hm?”

“Dean.”

Your husband looked up from the sandwich he was making in the kitchen to find your daughter standing in the doorway. Her lower lip trembled slightly, green eyes wide with uncertainty.

Dean immediately set the knife down.

Years of hunting monsters hadn’t prepared him for a sad little girl.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She shuffled forward, clutching a stuffed triceratops against her chest.

“Daddy…” Her tiny voice wobbled. “Am I broken?”

Dean’s heart nearly stopped.The sandwich was forgotten, the kitchen was forgotten.

Everything was forgotten.

“What?” he asked softly.

Her little face scrunched up. “My powers don’t work right.”

Dean crouched immediately until he was eye-level with her. “No, no, no. Come here.”

She walked straight into his arms, and Dean scooped her up without hesitation. At four years old she was still convinced her dad could solve every problem in the universe.

Dean desperately hoped that was true.

He carried her into the living room and sat on the couch, settling her onto his lap.

Outside, the suburban neighborhood continued peacefully and inside, Dean Winchester was attempting to explain celestial powers to a confused preschooler.

Life was weird.

“What happened?” he asked.

Your daughter stared down at her dinosaur. “I wanted juice.”

“Okay.”

“And then I thought about juice.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then all the juice boxes exploded.”

Dean winced because that explained the sticky kitchen floor from earlier.

She looked up miserably. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“And then yesterday I wanted my teddy bear.”

Dean nodded.

She sniffled. “But instead I got Uncle Sam.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Sam walked into the room carrying a basket of laundry.

“You rang?”

Your daughter immediately pointed. “See!”

Sam sighed. “Yeah. That happened.”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.

Hard.

Because Sam had apparently been teleported directly from the grocery store.

Still holding a gallon of milk.

The security footage from the supermarket remained one of the funniest things Dean had ever seen.

His brother disappeared from aisle seven and reappeared in their living room screaming.

Your daughter had thought it was hilarious.

Sam had not.

“Look, kiddo,” Dean said gently. “Your powers are still growing.”

She frowned. “Like me?”

“Exactly like you.”

That seemed to make sense to her.She considered it for a moment. “So they’re babies?”

Dean grinned. “Yeah. Tiny baby powers.”

She gasped. “Can powers wear diapers?”

Sam immediately turned away to hide his laugh.

Dean failed completely. “Maybe.”

Her eyes widened. “Do angel powers have tiny diapers?”

At that point Sam lost the battle entirely and doubled over laughing and Dean wasn’t far behind.

Your daughter stared between them, confused by the reaction.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dean wheezed.

“You two are weird.”

“You’re not wrong,” Sam managed.

The little girl leaned back against Dean’s chest, still thinking.

“But Mommy’s powers work.”

At that, Dean’s smile softened. You had been an angel for centuries before meeting him.

Your grace was stable.

Controlled.

Experienced.

You could heal wounds, teleport across continents, and smite monsters without blinking.

Your daughter had only been alive for four years.

“Mom’s had a lot more practice,” Dean explained.

“How much?”

Dean thought for a second. "A really, really, really long time.”

Your daughter’s jaw dropped. “Older than dinosaurs?”

Dean paused. “Honestly? Maybe.”

“Dean.” You appeared in the doorway, your hand on your hips with your eyebrows raised.

Dean pointed. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You sighed.“You’re not wrong.”

The little girl gasped dramatically. “Mommy is older than dinosaurs!”

You looked heavenward as if asking for strength.

Sam laughed again.

Dean looked far too pleased with himself.

Your daughter, however, still seemed troubled as the excitement faded.Her little fingers twisted into the dinosaur’s tail.

“What if I never learn?”

The room immediately grew quieter.

Dean’s expression softened as he brushed a hand through her hair.

“Hey.”

She looked up.

“You know what I was good at when I was four?”

She shook her head.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Daddy.”

“I’m serious.”

Sam snorted.“I bet he's telling the truth.”

Dean pointed accusingly. “Shut up.”

Your daughter giggled despite herself.

Dean smiled. “When I was your age, I couldn’t fix a car.”

She blinked. “You couldn’t?”

“Nope.”

“Could you hunt monsters?”

“Nope.”

“Could you make pancakes?”

Dean paused. “Okay, I still struggle with pancakes.”

That earned another laugh. The sound immediately eased the tightness in Dean’s chest. Because that was the thing about being a father.

Monsters didn’t scare him anymore.

Demons didn’t scare him.

Hell didn’t scare him.

A sad look on his little girl’s face?

That terrified him.

“You’ll learn,” Dean promised. “One day you’ll know exactly how your powers work.”

“What if I make mistakes?”

Dean kissed the top of her head. “Then you make mistakes.”

She frowned. "That’s okay?”

“Sweetheart, that’s how everybody learns.”

She thought about that.Then another thought seemed to occur to her.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you make mistakes?”

Dean laughed.

Sam laughed harder.

You outright covered your face.

The little girl blinked.

“What?”

Dean pointed toward Sam. “Ask your uncle.”

Sam immediately answered. "Your father once got hex and forgot who he was and who I was."

Dean stared. “That happened one time.”

Your daughter gasped. "Daddy's memories went poof?!"

“Okay, first of all—”

“He also accidentally set a motel curtain on fire.”

“Sam.”

“And there was that haunted clown incident.”

“Sammy.”

“And—”

“Samuel Winchester, I swear to God.”

Your daughter was laughing so hard she nearly slid off Dean’s lap.

The worried expression was gone completely now.

Exactly where Dean wanted it.

Finally she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Dean hugged her back immediately.

“You really think I’ll figure it out?”

“I know you will....you got your mom in you."

She smiled against his shoulder.

A moment later the lights overhead flickered.Then every lamp in the room turned on at once.

The television activated.

The ceiling fan spun to life.

The garage door opened somewhere outside.

Sam groaned. "I'll get the door."

Dean looked upward. “Kiddo?”

Your daughter buried her face against his shoulder.

“I got excited.”

Dean sighed dramatically. “Yeah. That’s my girl.”

Despite the chaos happening throughout the house, he couldn’t stop smiling.

Because the powers would get easier.

The accidents would become less frequent.

One day she’d learn control.

But for now she was still four years old, still learning, and still small enough to fit comfortably in her father’s arms.

And as far as Dean Winchester was concerned, there wasn’t a force in Heaven, Hell, or Earth that could make him trade that for anything.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 || 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝 ||

A/n: I did it!! Not gonna lie, teared up a little writing this.

American!Reader / Reader has ADHD

Meeting the Queen of England was, according to James Bond, an event that required a certain level of dignity.

You had promised him you would be dignified.

You had even meant it.

For the first ten minutes, everything had gone perfectly.

You had been polite, charming, and surprisingly composed despite the fact that you were standing inside one of the most famous palaces in the world. James had actually felt proud watching you converse with Her Majesty. Your American accent was warm and friendly, your smile genuine, and somehow you managed to put even members of the royal staff at ease.

Then the corgi appeared.

James saw the exact moment disaster struck.

The small dog trotted into the room with all the confidence of a creature that knew it was royalty.

Your entire face lit up.

The Queen was still speaking when you gasped.

Actually gasped, full on hands to your lips as your as grew wide. “Oh my God.”

James immediately knew he was in trouble.

The dog waddled closer.

You crouched before anyone could stop you.

“Oh my God, look at you,” you whispered in complete awe. “You’re so tiny.”

The corgi barked.

You looked like you had just met a celebrity.

The Queen seemed amused.

James was not.

The next several minutes became a blur of you completely forgetting you were standing in Buckingham Palace. You were talking to the dog, praising the dog, asking if the dog wanted belly rubs, and somehow ended up sitting on the floor while the corgi climbed into your lap.

At one point, James distinctly remembered hearing you tell the dog that he was “the most important little potato in Britain.”

The Queen laughed.

Several staff members looked horrified.

James wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

By the time the visit finally ended, you were happily waving goodbye to the corgi while James walked beside you with the expression of a man who had aged ten years.

The drive home was silent.

You didn’t notice at first, no you were still smiling, wide. “Did you see his little ears?” you asked happily. “James, his ears were—”

“You embarrassed me.”

The words hit like a slap, your throat tightened as your smile vanished.

James stared out the window. “I asked you to behave appropriately.”

The excitement drained from your face, your fingers digging into your skirt. "Oh.”

“You acted like a child.”

The moment the sentence left his mouth, part of him regretted it.

You simply turned toward the window and the rest of the drive passed in silence.

The apartment felt unusually quiet when they arrived.

James removed his jacket and loosened his tie, still irritated with the situation and even more irritated with himself.

He told himself he had every right to be annoyed.

Meeting the Queen wasn’t supposed to become an impromptu playdate with a royal dog.

Yet as the minutes passed, something felt wrong.

The apartment was too quiet.

No humming.

No talking.

No random commentary about pigeons or dogs or whatever had captured your attention that day.

Just silence.

Frowning, James walked toward the bedroom.

The sight that greeted him immediately made his stomach drop.

A suitcase sat open on the bed.Clothes were scattered across the mattress.You were stuffing things into the case with frantic movements.

James stopped in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

You froze.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then you zipped the suitcase shut with shaking hands.

James noticed your shoulders trembling.

Not from anger.

From crying.

The realization hit him like a punch.

Slowly, you turned around.Your eyes were red, your cheeks were wet.

The sight immediately extinguished every bit of irritation he still possessed.

“Cariad...”

“I’m going home to see my parents.”Your voice cracked halfway through the sentence.You wiped furiously at your eyes.

James stepped forward.

You stepped back.

The movement hurt more than he expected.

“I don’t want to embarrass you.”The words came out small and broken.You looked absolutely devastated. “I try really hard, James.” You were quiet as it cracked.

His chest tightened. “I know.”

“No.”

A tear rolled down your cheek. “You don’t.”

You hugged yourself. “I really do try.”

James opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.Because suddenly he remembered every time you had worried about being too loud.

Too excited.

Too much.

Every moment you second-guessed yourself because your mind moved faster than everyone else’s.

And today, instead of reassuring you, he had confirmed every fear you’d ever had.

You laughed weakly through your tears.“It was a corgi.” Your voice wobbled. “A royal corgi.” Another tear slipped free. “I thought she liked me.”

James felt physically ill.

Because the Queen had liked you.

The Queen had been laughing.

The only person who had truly been upset was him.

And now you looked heartbroken.

You grabbed the suitcase handle. “I’m gonna go stay with my parents for a little while...I think it's for the best." Your body hunched.

“Cariad—”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to embarrass you anymore....You are an MI6 agent and I'm....I'm just some loud American." The sentence was barely above a whisper.

Then, before James could find the words he desperately needed, you walked past him.

The front door opened.

Closed.

And just like that, the apartment fell silent.

James remained standing in the bedroom doorway.

Alone.

The silence felt deafening.

His gaze drifted toward the empty hallway where you had disappeared. Then he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and buried a hand across his mouth.

Because the moment the door had closed, he realized something awful.

You hadn’t embarrassed him at all.

You had simply been yourself.

And he had just made the woman he loved cry for it.

James had attended hundreds of meetings throughout his career.

Meetings with foreign dignitaries.

Meetings with intelligence chiefs.

Meetings with military commanders.

None of them had ever frightened him quite as much as walking back into Buckingham Palace after making the colossal mistake of sending the woman he loved back to Texas in tears.

The guilt had followed him for days.

Every room in his flat felt empty.Every meal tasted bland.Even the silence seemed different.

You weren’t there humming to yourself while making coffee. You weren’t leaving little notes around the apartment. You weren’t getting distracted halfway through conversations because a pigeon had landed outside the window.

The apartment didn’t feel like home anymore.

It felt like a building....suffocating.

Which was precisely why James looked more exhausted than usual when he entered the Queen’s private sitting room.

Her Majesty looked up immediately.

The first thing she asked wasn’t about intelligence reports.

It wasn’t about security matters.

Instead, she smiled and asked, “Where is your delightful young lady?”

The question hit James like a brick.

His expression tightened, his jaw twitched, nails biting into his palm.

The Queen noticed immediately and the Queen wanted answers. "Oh dear.”

James stared at the floor. “She flew home.”

The smile vanished from Her Majesty’s face, her head only tilting to the side a fraction. "Home?”

“America.”

A pause.

"Texas."

“Why? If I may ask."

James swallowed.

For a brief moment he considered lying.

Then he remembered exactly who he was speaking to.

So he told the truth.

The entire truth.

He explained the corgi.

He explained his frustration.

He explained the drive home.

The argument.

The tears.

The suitcase.

Every terrible decision he’d made.

The room grew increasingly silent.Dangerously silent.

When he finally finished speaking, the Queen simply stared at him.

James knew that look.It was the look people got right before disaster struck.

“What,” she asked very slowly, “did you just say?"

James immediately wished he could disappear, he considered jumping out a window." “Your Majesty.."

The slap came so fast he barely saw it.

CRACK.

His head snapped sideways.

Several security officers visibly flinched.

One looked like he was trying desperately not to laugh.

James blinked then worked his jaw.

The Queen lowered her hand. “You idiot.”

James straightened automatically. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You upset that poor girl over my corgi?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“MY corgi?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Queen looked genuinely offended. “Do you have any idea how much I adored that girl?”

James opened his mouth only to close it when he noticed the Queen pointed a finger directly at him.

“She was delightful.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“She called him a royal potato.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Queen looked ready to slap him again.

“I laughed for three days.”

James stared at the carpet.

“We are going to fix this.”

“Pardon…” James head snapped up, his voice faltered. “We?”

“Well, of course we.” The Queen placed her hands in front of her. “You are not going to sully my name because of your incompetence.”

James felt about sixteen years old.

“That poor girl.” She whispered to herself as her Majesty shook her head. "You are a double-oh.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Start acting like it.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Queen fixed him with a look that could have frozen lava. "On the way, you will be giving her a puppy.”

James blinked. “....A puppy?”

“A puppy..one of mine had a few, you will find a suitable one for her."

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And then you will get on your knees.”

James closed his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And grovel.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And beg for forgiveness.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Queen folded her arms. “If you even deserve it.”

James sighed. “…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Three days later, a private aircraft landed in Texas.

Which was how James Bond found himself standing outside a sprawling ranch while the Queen’s security detail watched the situation unfold with increasing concern.

The puppy in his arms yawned.

James wished he were somewhere else.

The front door opened and then a large man stepped outside.

Your father.

James had faced terrorists.

Assassins.

Warlords.

None of them looked as frightening as the man currently staring at him.

Recognition flashed across your father’s face, shock, then pure fury.

The punch arrived without warning.

WHAM.

James stumbled backward.

The puppy barked.

Several armed protection officers tensed immediately.

Your father pointed directly at Bond. “You got a lotta nerve comin’ here.”

James rubbed his jaw.

Frankly, he felt he’d earned that.

Behind him, the Queen watched with visible approval.

Your father wasn’t finished. “After breakin’ my little bumble bee’s heart.Sweetheart! Get my gun!”

James winced though his head snapped up the moment he mentioned a gun.

The front door burst open again.

Your mother appeared carrying a shotgun. “I got it, darlin’!”

Every security officer immediately looked horrified.

The Queen looked fascinated.

Your father cracked his knuckles.

James briefly considered whether getting punched again might actually be preferable.

Then movement caught his eye.You stepped onto the porch.The moment he saw you, everything else disappeared.

You froze.

He froze.

The ranch suddenly felt very quiet.

Your eyes widened, then narrowed, the hurt was still there.

That hurt nearly broke him, because he didn't even know if he deserved you now.

James carefully set the puppy down.

The tiny thing immediately waddled toward you.

Your expression faltered. “Oh.”

The puppy reached your boots and rolled onto its back.

The silence stretched.

Then James did something he had never done for any king, politician, intelligence chief, or military commander.

He got down on both knees.

Your father looked startled.Your mother lowered the shotgun slightly.

Even the Queen appeared satisfied.

James looked directly at you.

“I was wrong.”

His voice was rough, completely sincere.“I was completely and utterly wrong.”

Your eyes began to water, your lip trembled lightly as James continued.

“Meeting Her Majesty wasn’t important.” He shook his head. “No.” A painful laugh escaped him.“You were important.”

The tears in your eyes grew.

“I made you feel like being yourself was something bad.” His throat tightened. “It isn’t.” He looked down for a moment then back up at you. “You could never embarrass me.”

Every word was honest.

“You are kind.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“You are funny.”

The puppy climbed into your lap.

“You make every room brighter the moment you walk into it...." James swallowed hard.“The apartment felt empty without you...it felt like the warmth was sucked from it.”

The confession came easier than expected.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He laughed softly. “I kept looking for you.”

A tear slid down your cheek.

James looked absolutely miserable. “I missed your voice.I missed your laugh.” His eyes softened. “I missed you.”

The ranch had become completely silent. Even your father had stopped glaring.

Mostly.

James drew a slow breath. "You loved that corgi because it made you happy.” He shook his head then swallowed. “And instead of loving that about you, I made you cry.”

The guilt in his voice was unmistakable.

“I am so sorry.” His eyes never left yours. “You deserve better than what I gave you that day.”

The words hung between you.

Honest.

Raw.

Real.

And for perhaps the first time in his entire life, James Bond looked less like Britain’s greatest spy and more like a man desperately hoping the woman he loved might forgive him.

For a long moment, you simply stood there holding the puppy against your chest.

The tiny thing had somehow fallen asleep in your arms despite the chaos surrounding it. Your mother was still clutching her shotgun. Your father still looked like he was debating whether James deserved another punch. Half the royal protection detail appeared deeply confused about how their assignment had turned into a relationship intervention on a Texas ranch.

None of that mattered.

Because James was still kneeling in the dirt.

Waiting.

Not demanding.

Not expecting.

Just hoping that you would come home to him, that you will still love him.

Your eyes burned as you looked at him. "You really flew all the way to Texas?”

A faint smile touched his face. “The Queen ordered me to.”

That startled a laugh out of you.The tension in James’s shoulders eased immediately at the sound.

You shook your head. "Only you could get relationship advice from the Queen of England.”

“To be fair,” James admitted, rubbing the side of his jaw, “she also slapped me.”

Your father muttered, “Good.”

Your mother nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t help smiling.Then your gaze returned to James.The smile faded into something softer, something warmer.

“You really hurt my feelings."

James immediately lowered his eyes. “I know.”

“I thought you were ashamed of me.”

The pain in his expression was immediate.“Never...I could never be ashamed of you.”His answer came so quickly there wasn’t even a second of hesitation, the sincerity in his voice made your chest ache.

You stared at him for another moment before finally sighing.

Then you stepped forward.

James looked up just as you wrapped your free arm around his shoulders.

For a second he simply froze. Then his arms closed around your waist so tightly it was almost desperate.

You felt him exhale against your stomach.Like he’d been holding that breath for days.

“I forgive you,” you whispered.

James closed his eyes. Relief washed across his face so visibly it made your heart squeeze. When he finally looked up at you again, his expression was softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Thank you.”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Behind you, your father pointed a warning finger at Bond. “I’m still watchin’ you.”

James, still holding onto you as though afraid you’d disappear again, nodded immediately.

“Understood, sir.”

The Queen, watching from nearby, looked thoroughly pleased with herself.

“Excellent,” she announced. “Now that that’s settled, may I pet the puppy?”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Writing that Bond fic out where the Queen slaps him cause he made the reader cry 🤣

"I liked that Girl! Now you will fix this Mr.Bond...you are a Double 0 Agent! Now act like it.!!!"

"Yes mum!"

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I have another question..

Would any of ya'll be interested in a Haruka Tenou (Sailor Uranus) × Female!Reader.

Reader is Sailor Orion, Guardian of the Orion Constellation.

She is also a fucking clutz

And Haruka loves her

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Daniel Craig Era bond fic idea: ( since I do not remember what year 007 takes place nor do I think first light James would snap at Reader. But I can see the Craig one doing it after all the stuff he's been through and he's not used to the reader's kindness / boubblyness )

So of course, light angst here

James takes the Reader to see the Queen, You're polite at first

That goes out the window the moment Reader see's the Queen's corgi.

Later on James scolds the reader and tells her she embarressed him.

Reader goes quiet, then back at the apartment packs her things.

James asks what she's doing while you turn to him teary eyes sniffling.

"I'm going home to see my parents! I don't want to embarrass you!"

Reader then storms out.

Later on, James has another meeting with the Queen.

The Queen asks where the Reader is ( it turns out that she looved you )

James uncomfortably states that she flew back to America.

When the Queen asks why, James finally caves. The Queen takes a moment slaps James and calls him an idiot.

"We are going to fix this..."

"Pardon...we?"

"Well of course! You are not going to sully my name for your Incompetence! That poor girl! You are a 00! Start acting like it"

"Yes your Majesty."

"On the way you will buy her a puppy and then you will get on your knees and grovel and beg for her forgiveness...if you even deserve it."

"....yes your Majesty."

Que The Queen of England ( and ones sent to protect her ) along with James flying to Texas to Reader's parents ranch where James then does on fact apologize to the Reader.

A very heart felt apology because he knows you could never embarrass him and it was horrible while you were gone, he felt truly miserable.

James then see's Reader's grandma getting along with the Queen of England.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Combing my two favorite things!

( even though i have Thalassaphobia - i freaking love this game )

Iron Lung × Subnautica crossover

where the Reader is a former Altera scientist who discovered the corporation’s crimes and was silenced, only to become entangled with Simon and the doom Iron Lung.

Would annnnyone read something like this? 👀.

Like I have ways this could go, even as far as the reader finding one of the gates and the two end up on Planet 4546B from Subnautica.

Like really:

One ideas is where Reader is still on Planet 4546B, and the Iron Lung goes through a gate and ends up on the planet.

Which also happens to be near one of readers bases.

Reader seeing the strange sub gets in the seamoth and finds Simon, reader takes the unconscious man back to her base.

Idea Two:

Where Reader and a Wraper wind up on the Iron Lung.

Reader beats the creature , Simon is wondering what the fuck is going on

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Thinking about the Angel!reader for James.

I fully believe that Charlie would love James, I'd like to think Charlie see's a lot of himself in James.

The man teases him of course because he thinks of the Reader like his daughter 😭.

And of course Charlie shows up at the wedding , maybe he physically see's the reader, maybe he only goes to see James but his their.

Bosley....BOSLEY is worse.

Because he is Reader's handler but he is also like the Reader's big brother.

He is far to protective over his angels ( like Charlie ) but Bosley is physically here.

This man will not stop harassing James because in Bosley's mind he needs to make sure the British man is good for you.

Bosley constantly gives him shit, Bosley also gets along with John Greenway and Q a bit to much which irritates him to know end.

Because now he has three old men that harass him.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

🦆Duck Theft || James Bond ||

A/n: Dad James with two chaotic twins, thank you @runneski of the twin suggestion.

And go my lovely moot and the others that liked the idea of Reader being ADHD

The afternoon had been James’s idea.That fact alone should have warned him.

After years of surviving impossible missions, avoiding assassins, and dismantling criminal organizations across half the globe, James Bond had made the fatal mistake of believing a simple family outing to a London park would be relaxing.

The sun was warm without being insane, a light breeze rustled through the trees, and children played across the wide grassy fields while families occupied picnic blankets scattered throughout the park. It was peaceful. Ordinary. Exactly the sort of thing you loved.

Which was precisely why James should have known it would end in disaster.

You sat comfortably beneath a large oak tree, sunglasses perched atop your head as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Your ADHD had already pulled your attention through approximately seventeen unrelated topics in the last ten minutes, ranging from whether penguins had knees to why ducks walked the way they did.

The twins, meanwhile, had been entrusted with feeding themselves crackers while staying within eyesight.

A decision James was rapidly beginning to regret.

His attention drifted toward the nearby pond where dozens of ducks floated lazily across the water.

Then he noticed his son staring at the birds.

That, by itself, wasn’t concerning.

What concerned him was the look.

The exact look.

The one that appeared right before something expensive broke or someone ended up trapped somewhere they absolutely shouldn’t be.

James narrowed his eyes.

His son glanced toward his sister.His daughter glanced back.

The twins exchanged a silent conversation only siblings could understand.

Then they both nodded.

James immediately sat up straighter. “Oh no.”

You looked up from your phone. “What?”

“The children just had an idea.”

You followed his gaze toward the pond. “They’re just looking at ducks.”

“Exactly.”

You blinked.

James pointed. “They’re plotting.”

Before you could respond, your son announced loudly, “Mama says ducks need snacks.”

You lowered your phone. “What?”

The twins were already climbing to their feet, brushing dirt off their knees. "Mama says ducks get lonely.”

“I did not say that.”

“They need friends,” your daughter added helpfully.

You frowned. “I definitely didn’t say that either.”

Unfortunately, facts had never been particularly important to four year olds.

By the time either parent fully processed what was happening, the twins had already sprinted toward the pond.

James groaned.

The sound was one of a man who had infiltrated enemy compounds with less concern than he felt watching his children run unsupervised toward wildlife.

“Stay here,” he muttered.

You laughed. “Good luck.”

He shot you a look.The look of a husband who knew his wife found his suffering amusing.

You smiled sweetly.....It was not reassuring.

James crossed the grass toward the pond, expecting to discover the twins feeding ducks.

Perhaps chasing ducks.

Possibly attempting to hug ducks.

What he found was significantly worse.

Several ducks had gathered around the twins near a small path leading toward the parking lot.

His son was scattering cracker crumbs like a tiny criminal mastermind.

His daughter was enthusiastically waving her arms.

“Come on!”

“Almost there!”

James stopped walking.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Then his eyes followed the direction they were leading the birds.

Toward the Aston Martin.

His Aston Martin.

His new DB12 Aston Martin that MI6 had kindly gifted after the twins were born.

A horrifying realization settled over him. "No.”

His daughter looked up brightly. “Daddy!”

His son pointed proudly toward the vehicle parked nearby.

“We’re taking them home.”

James closed his eyes.For a brief moment he considered pretending he didn’t know them.

When he opened them again, the situation had somehow deteriorated further.

One duck had already reached the car.

Another stood beside it.

A third appeared interested. "QUACK!!"

“Why,” James asked carefully, “are you taking the ducks home?”

The twins looked at him as though he had asked why water was wet.

“Because they don’t have a house.”

“They live in the pond.”

“That’s outside.”

James pinched the bridge of his nose.

His daughter pointed dramatically toward the Aston Martin.

“That can be their house.!!"

“It absolutely cannot.”

“But it’s big.”

“It....it is not that big!!.”

His son considered this then he asked, “Can they live in Uncle Monroe's house?”

James nearly laughed.

Almost.

The suggestion was ridiculous enough to break through his frustration.Then movement inside the car caught his attention.

His blood ran cold.

One of the ducks was sitting in the passenger seat.

Silence.

James stared, the duck stared back with its tiny beady eyes.

His daughter beamed. “We got Trevor inside.”

“Trevor?”

“The duck.”

The duck quacked, its body puffed.

James genuinely wasn’t sure whether it was introducing itself or mocking him.

Behind him he heard familiar laughter.

Turning around, he found you approaching across the grass, already struggling to contain your amusement.

The moment you spotted the duck sitting comfortably inside the Aston Martin, you lost the battle entirely.

Your laughter echoed across the park. “Oh my God.”

James stared at you. “You think this is funny.”

“I think it's hilarious."

“Our children have stolen a duck.”

“They haven’t stolen it.”

The duck remained in the passenger seat.

You tilted your head. "Actually… they might have stolen it.”

The twins seemed delighted by this possibility.

“We adopted him,” your son corrected.

“We saved him,” your daughter agreed.

Trevor chose that exact moment to flap his wings, feathers getting everywhere.

James moved toward the car.

The duck immediately lunged.A sharp beak connected with his hand.

James jerked backward. "Bloody!-"

The twins gasped.

You nearly collapsed laughing. “Did that duck just attack James Bond?”

The world’s most dangerous spy looked down at the tiny red mark on his hand.His expression was completely blank.

Which somehow made it even funnier.

The twins rushed to Trevor’s defense immediately.

“He thought Daddy was a threat.”

“He was protecting us.”

James stared at his children. “You recruited a bodyguard.”

The twins looked incredibly proud of themselves.

You finally managed to compose yourself enough to wipe tears from your eyes. “I have to admit,” you said, stepping beside him, “that’s kind of impressive.”

James sighed heavily as he looked between his laughing wife, his criminally inventive children, and the duck occupying the passenger seat of a vehicle worth more than most people’s homes.

Somewhere along the way, his life had transformed from international espionage into whatever this was.

Oddly enough, he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Even if it meant negotiating with a duck named Trevor in the middle of a London park.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Would James be a girl dad or would he have a son?

Cause this depends on the fic Im gonna write.

So

James Bond as a girl dad

Or

James Bond with a son ( who looks just like him ) but has his wife ( American / Adha Reader )

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I fucking love this! You're fucking beautiful for this.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

One Night Was Supposed To Be One Night🪽

➤James Bond

The first time you saw James Bond after Vietnam, you genuinely thought you were hallucinating.

It had been three weeks since the resort.

Three weeks since the infinity pool overlooking the South China Sea. Three weeks since discovering that the charming British billionaire tourist named St. John Smythe was actually an MI6 agent. Three weeks since both of you had nearly gotten each other killed while chasing the same target.

Three weeks since you had promised yourself it was over.

So naturally, you nearly dropped your coffee when you spotted him standing in a crowded hotel lobby in Singapore.

The expensive suit was different, the expression wasn’t. Neither was the way his gaze immediately found yours across hundreds of people.

For a moment neither of you moved.

Then James slowly lowered the champagne glass in his hand.

You stared.

He stared.

A nearby businessman accidentally walked directly into a decorative plant because he was too busy watching whatever strange silent argument was happening between the two of you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked when you finally reached him.

James looked entirely too calm for someone who had just appeared in your life again like a particularly handsome curse.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You narrowed your eyes.

He narrowed his.

The realization struck both of you simultaneously.

Same city.

Same week.

Same luxury hotel.

Same target.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

James rubbed a hand across his face as he rolled his shoulders. "Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone is.”

The universe, apparently, had a twisted sense of humor.

The second time happened in Paris.

At that point you were starting to suspect someone upstairs hated both of you.

You had spent two days cultivating a source connected to an international weapons broker.

The source had finally agreed to meet.

Everything was going perfectly.

Then James Bond sat down in the empty chair beside yours.

You almost choked on your wine.

The source looked between the two of you in confusion.

James offered the man a polite smile before glancing at you.

“Darling.”

Your eye twitched.

The source’s eyebrows shot upward.

James remained completely serious.

You could have strangled him. Instead you forced a smile so sweet it nearly gave you cavities.

“Sweetheart,” you replied.

The source looked deeply uncomfortable, James looked amused.

You hated how attractive he was when he was being insufferable.

The meeting became a disaster.

The source spent the entire evening convinced you were a married couple in the middle of a divorce.

James somehow still obtained the information.

You still weren’t sure how, and it still pissed you off to no end.

Rome was worse.

Far worse.

Because Rome involved a gala.

And a very rich Italian count who spent the entire evening flirting with you.

You weren’t encouraging him but you weren’t discouraging him either.

Mostly because James was standing on the opposite side of the ballroom pretending not to watch.

Pretending very badly.

You caught him glaring no less than six times.

The seventh time, you finally excused yourself and crossed the room.

James was holding a glass of whiskey with enough force to shatter it.

You looked at him innocently. “Everything alright?”

His jaw tightened. “Fine.”

You smiled.The kind of smile that always got you into trouble.

“The count seems nice.”

The muscle in his cheek jumped.

You nearly laughed.

James looked away toward the elderly Italian aristocrat currently attempting to impress you.

“I imagine he does.”

“Oh, he’s charming.” You purred.

James took a very deliberate sip of whiskey.

The amusement bubbling inside you became almost impossible to contain.

“You seem annoyed..."

“I’m not annoyed.”

“You look annoyed.”

“I’m not.”

“You absolutely are.”

His blue eyes finally landed on yours.The look he gave you was enough to make your stomach do something embarrassingly dramatic.

“You enjoy this far too much.”

You grinned. “Maybe a little.”

The fact that he almost smiled in return made your heart do something even more embarrassing.

Months passed.

Cities changed.

Missions changed.

The pattern didn’t.

London.

Madrid.

Prague.

New York.

No matter where you went, somehow James Bond appeared.

Sometimes by coincidence.

Sometimes because your agencies were working the same operation.

Sometimes because life seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together.

The problem was that neither of you wanted to admit how much you enjoyed it.

Because somewhere between the arguments and the flirting and the near-death experiences, something had changed.

You found yourself looking for him in crowded rooms.

Looking for that familiar suit.

That familiar smirk.

That familiar voice.

And judging by the way his eyes always searched for you first whenever he entered a room, the feeling wasn’t entirely one-sided.

It finally came to a head in New York.

The mission was over, the target was in custody and for once, nobody was actively trying to shoot either of you.

You found James standing alone on the rooftop terrace of a hotel overlooking Manhattan.

The city glittered beneath the night sky, a sea of lights stretching endlessly toward the horizon.

For a few moments neither of you spoke.

The silence felt comfortable.

Dangerously comfortable.

James rested his forearms against the railing as the wind tugged at his suit jacket.

You joined him.

The city hummed below. A taxi horn echoed somewhere in the distance, someone yelled.

And suddenly you found yourself asking the question that had been lingering between you for months.

“At what point do we stop calling this a coincidence?”

James was quiet.Long enough that you thought he might not answer.Then he turned his head, the expression on his face was softer than you were accustomed to seeing.

More honest.

“Probably several countries ago.” His voice was light, that familiar tone back in Vietnam.

Your heart betrayed you immediately.The traitorous thing practically melted, your heart pounded in your chest as a laugh escaped before you could stop it.

James smiled.

Not the charming smile he used on diplomats.Not the dangerous one he used on enemies nor the ones he used on women.

It was a real one.

The rare kind that made him look happier.For a moment neither of you looked away.

The city continued moving around you.

Cars.

People.

Lights.

An entire world carrying on beneath the rooftop.

Yet somehow the only thing that mattered was the man standing beside you.

The man who had been supposed to be one night in Vietnam.

One mistake.

One memory.

Instead he had become every city afterward.

Every unexpected reunion.

Every stolen glance.

Every impossible coincidence.

And judging by the way James reached for your hand before lacing his fingers through yours, neither of you had any intention of pretending otherwise anymore.

Your gaze softened as your free hand moved to his chest to feel his pounding heart, your eyes sliding closed the moment Jame's lips met yours.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I get distracted way too easily, especially after what happened.

:/

So I am sorry ya'll that I've been spacey.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I will forever find this to be the funnist shit!

AHAHA BITCH

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But I finally got the smut right so I'm gonna post the first smut and work on the second one with the Angel!reader and James

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Finally watched Iron Lung and oh man! That movie was amazing.

I can't believe I waited this long to watch the movie 😩.