#he'd make that soup to play god

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[wishful-sinful-9]

consider…….lumberjack logan taking care of you when you’re sick and the heat/ac in your apartment went out

more lumberjack!logan here!

October is approaching and there's a chill in the air. On your walk to work, the sun is barely peeking over the mountains and a crisp breeze makes you draw your little red swede jacket closer together, Bob Dylan style. You hum “Blowin' in the Wind” to distract yourself from your blocked nose and tickling throat.

Your slight sniffling and paling face fails to escape Logan's radar. “Comin' down with a cold?” he grunts as you place his coffee down in front of him.

“Nothing that won't right itself in a couple days.” You reply, though you're not as certain as your words suggest.

Your fears manifest when you arrive home to an apartment with no heating. You cocoon yourself in blankets, but it's no use; an occasional cough intensifies into fits, and your sniffling evolves into sneezing. Worst of all, you've come over with a bad fever.

He picks up the phone to your meek little voice down the line, a simple: “the heating's broken” and there's a Logan-shaped hole in the wall.

“It's the whole floor,” you explain when you let him in. “It won't get fixed for a few days, it looks like. I was gonna order food.”

“We'll order food from my place.”

You turn to look at him, baffled. “Logan-?”

“Get your stuff, you're staying with me until it's fixed,” he says firmly. “Living in the Arctic won't help a cold. Now c'mon.”

You don't dare protest further when he looks at you with that firm expression of his, instead busying yourself with packing a bag.

The drive to Logan's makes it apparent that his daily visits to the diner must not be for convenience; he lives a few miles away from the town, the site he works on being on the other side of the hill where his lonely cabin overlooks the mountains. You know you make a mean cup of coffee, but you wonder if it could be something else attracting him...

You find yourself on his couch, The Grateful Dead playing on the radio as he gets the fireplace going. He'd made you soup and hot lemon and honey tea for your throat. Any attempts to lift yourself from your seat were sternly thwarted.

An indescribably warm feeling blooms in your chest at the sight of him rushing about attending to you. Only once the fire is lit he stops, turning to you to ask if there's anything else he can get you, something from the store, an extra blanket...

He freezes when you take his arm, blinking up at him sweetly, “I'm fine, Logan, thank you. Please for the love of God, sit down.”

He huffs out a fine, although his heart flutters at the proximity when he takes a seat beside you.

-

You're asleep on his shoulder. You're sitting right next to him and you're asleep on his shoulder.

The two of you had been watching a movie, you having insisted he take some of the blanket. Outside, the sun was slipping down the sky, bathing the cabin in syrupy sunlight, casting over your drooping eyelids. It's early to sleep, sure, but now you're completely warm and comfortable after suffering in the cold of your apartment, an exhaustion had settled over you.

Ever so slowly, Logan reaches around your back and under your thighs to scoop you into his arms in a bridal hold. He carries you to his bedroom and gently settles you into the sheets, arranging them over you - tucking you in.

He falters for a moment, looking over you: the peaceful look on your face, your body curling into the warmth. A slight smile lifts on his lips.

Tentatively, Logan leans down, brushing a stray strand of hair that threatens to bother your eyes - and dares press a kiss to your temple.

He hurries out the room.

[hotvintagepoll]

Dwight Frye (Dracula, Frankenstein)—he's my babygirl please please please please please i want to baby bird feed him flies and spiders and pick him up and make glitter edits of him and give him gross forehead kisses like he's my cat. in dracula he was so incredibly creepy that he was typecast as madmen for the rest of his life and he fucking hated it but by god if he didn't do a fantastic job. he steals the show every time he's up on screen just because he's so fucking deranged. i need him

Harpo Marx (Night at the Opera, Night in Casablanca, Duck Soup)—While Groucho is better-known, Harpo's physical comedy is SECOND-TO-NONE. The man is a strange mime trapped in the paradigm of early 20th century movies. Every move is a symphony and simultaneously a colony of rats in a human skin suit. LISTEN. You MUST see this man in motion. Every still photo of him looks like a combination of a sad clown and a different, sadder clown, but it's only because he put so much joy in every motion.

This is round 4 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Dwight:

He absolutely owns the entirety of Dracula (1931). Compared to the novel, his part is massively expanded and it's clear why. He's magnetically unhinged and his facial expressions are pure scrungle. And in Frankenstein, he begins the archetype of Frankenstein's assistant even if the character's name there is Fritz. He'd still go on to play other scrungly guys in later Frankenstein movies. But he's kinda the archetypal and progenitor of the scrungly lil guy. The scrungliest guy ever to scrungle. He's pretty much the blueprint for every mad scientist's assistant, and he's the best part of every movie he's in. He manages to make you feel sorry for the creepy little dudes, even when he's eating spiders and crawling across the floor. [editor's note: content warning for the "hunchback" stereotype and "madness" in the clips below]the "Rats" soliloquy:

I saw him in Dracula and frankly he has me bewitched. I could watch him do his silly routine forever. The gay tension with Bela Lugosi onscreen was frankly unparalleled. Kirk and Spock levels. I am chewing on the furniture

Played the weirdo little guy in Dracula AND the weirdo little guy in Frankenstein in the same year. Iconic.

The scrungles to end all scrungles! There's a reason why this man codified the manic vampire's familiar and the hunchbacked lab assistant for generations, because by God can this man be feral and scrungly: Whether he's soliloquizing about rats as Renfield, scurrying around Frankenstein's lab like a spider as Fritz, or skulking around dark alleys (and scaring the hell out of little baby me) waiting for a fresh heart to steal as Karl, if you want a scrungly little man for your classic film, Dwight Frye is your man. He has the range to play varying kinds of scrungle, with his wide eyes, his manic smiles, his soft, breathy voice, he is truly an undisputed scrungle master.

I honestly think it would be a crime to ignore Dwight Frye's scrungle factor. He played two of the prototypical creepy little henchman as Dracula's lackey Renfield and Dr. Frankenstein's hunchback servant Fritz, and I believe that his excellence in these roles absolutely shaped the future character tropes of the "Igor" type as much as Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff shaped the future understanding of Dracula and Frankenstein's monster. He's got it all from the looks, to the manic energy, to the crazed laugh, I'm telling you right now that I think he could win the entire tournament.

Harpo Marx:

He's like if a clown was a hobo was also somehow a classically trained harpist, his face is always in some kind of contorted silly shape, feral curly haired ninnymuggins always doing weird things to people

Harpo is mute in all of the Marx Bros movies and so his body language and facial expressions are SO over the top but he's also got fewer braincells than a goldfish while often being the emotional heart of the Marx Bros and he's just A Guy!!

Every scene with Harpo Marx is a treat! Just like watching a seagull steal a stranger's hotdog at the beach, it is a joy to watch him frustrate the hell out of all the other films' characters! Harpo Marx is the zenith of unhinged in all of his appearances, making any other funny man a straight man by comparison. (A fantastic feat considering he starred in films with his brothers Grouch and Harpo, who sported a shoe polish mustache and questionable Italian accent, respectively). The scrungliness of the little guys he plays come from his guileless, wide-eyed expression, curly blond wig, and the extreme ability to annoy others, despite never saying a word. Is he malicious? Most definitely, but hard to tell because he has a dopey grin on his face most of the time. Communicating through other sounds like honking horns and whistling, he is a force of chaos in every Marx brothers film! Also an accomplished harp player, the beautiful calm moments where Harpo plays juxtapose the zany, making him all the more scrungly. His visual style of comedy is timeless; Duck Soup had me rolling with laughter as a six year old and is still just as funny today.

In my opinion Harpo is the funniest of the Marx brothers because he is so good at slapstick comedy. Since he never speaks in his film appearances his performances are very physical, which contributes a lot to his scrungliness. He was fully committed to being wacky at all times. All of his hilarity is based on him being weird.

He's just a weird little guy who causes chaos everywhere he goes, and then sits down and plays a beautiful harp solo! He steals the show from his very chatty brothers without saying a word, and was surprisingly ripped under that old raincoat

All of the Marx Brothers are Scrungly to a degree, but Harpo is the scrungliest! His outfits are so big he gets lost in them, his pockets are full of everything, and because he never speaks, he always uses physical comedy. Also he's an incredible musician.

[aquatic-armageddons]

How the mercs would react to Y/N who listens to screamo

A/N: I've decided to make it so that Y/N can also sing screamo as well, but only for Scout and Demo. I've also put down (what I think) their opinion of screamo would be.

SCOUT:

I strike him as the type to also listen to a little screamo, so he'd be kinda pleased to meet another fan, though he'd be a little surprised at first. And even more so if Y/N can scream as well.

Y/N had just walked into the base's training gym to blow off some steam, as the team had lost a battle that day. Everyone was understandably disappointed and on edge, so after the team was asleep, they snuck into the gym to play some Whitechapel. The music played on a mini speaker that could echo throughout the entire gym, but not disturb the others' sleep.

Scout also had the same idea of sneaking into the gym (but to work out), and was shocked to see Y/N headbanging and screaming along to the song. He never expected this of Y/N, but he was definitely not gonna complain.

"Well this is surely somethin' different, short-stuff!" Scout exclaimed.

"What the hell, Scout?! How long were you standing there??" Y/N sputtered.

"Not too long, but damn, I didn't think you'd be into all that. And being good at it too!" Scout beamed, poking them on the cheek.

Y/N and him would spend awhile blasting screamo and singing along, at least until Spy would drag them both out by their ear for causing too much noise xD

SOLDIER

I can imagine Solly being familiar with screamo, though I doubt he would listen to it very much.

It was getting close to sundown, and he and Y/N offered to go out on a supply run for the team. While out getting said supplies, Y/N's phone began to ring, playing Lamb of God on full blast.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry about that!"

"Dear God, I never expected that of you!" Solly chuckled as Y/N scrambled to shut their phone off, dropping it in the process.

He'd find their behavior cute, but he wouldn't bring it back up unless Y/N wanted to talk about it.

But he'd ask Y/N to ease him into the genre, and it would take some time, but eventually he'd enjoy it.

PYRO

I would think their music taste varies, as there are so many other things we don't know about them (and probably never will).

Y/N was unable to attend a battle as they were down with a nasty cold (I know Medic could probably use his gun here but whatever haha). After the team got back, Pyro decided to whip up some soup for Y/N and the rest of the team.

Pyro was about to knock on the door when they heard Y/N playing some Lorna Shore in the background. They waited until the song was over before they actually knocked, causing Y/N to slightly yelp.

"Come in!" Y/N called. Pyro opened the door with their head tilted, as if to ask about the music.

"I've liked this kind of music for a long time now. Wanna listen with me?"

The two of them would spend some time shuffling through Y/N's playlist, completely forgetting about the soup (they later heat it back up so it wouldn't be wasted haha).

DEMOMAN

I'm convinced Demo would be open to listen to any kind of music, and screamo is no exception. He'd enjoy it even more while drunk (it's actually quite funny to watch).

One day he and Y/N decide to go out drinking at a karaoke bar nearby (it was Demo's birthday present). They both are pretty tipsy by the time it's their turn to sing.

Demo sings his part (and is predictably terrible at it but who cares xD). But when Y/N selected a screamo song and began singing, the bar grew silent.

"Go on, lass! Sing yer hear out!!!" Demo slurred, headbanging to the loud song.

The two ended up being escorted off the stage, since hardly anybody else was interested in listening to another second of the song. Once outside, Demo sobered up a little at the feel of the cool air hitting his drunken face.

"I'm so sorry, Demo. I ruined your birthday night out-" Y/N started before they were cut off.

" It's alright, hon. Let's head back so you can do some more screamin'~" He got even closer to Y/N's face.

"And I ain't talkin' about the music anymore..."

HEAVY

Not exactly a fan at first, but would be open to listen to a few recommendations.

Y/N was feeling quite lonely, so they decided to pop in with Heavy, who was busy cleaning Sasha for the ntheenth time that day. He didn't mind having some company, only if Y/N didn't make too much noise.

Y/N decided to listen to some Cannibal Corpse while Heavy worked. They must not have connected their Bluetooth headphones to their phone properly, because their phone played the song on full blast, nearly scaring the daylights out of Heavy.

"Матерь божья!" He exclaimed, dropping the rag from his hand. Y/N quickly shut their phone off, completely red in the face.

"I-I'm so sorry about that, Misha! I thought my headphones were connected..." Their words trailed off as Heavy stared at them in mild disbelief.

Heavy couldn't help but chuckle. "Heavy didn't know you liked this music!" He ruffled the top of Y/N's head playfully.

"Let Heavy finish cleaning Sasha, then we listen to some more later."

ENGINEER

Same with Heavy: not a big fan in the beginning. But if given a few songs, then he would give it a try.

It happened to be the team's day off, and Y/N decided to lounge around in one of their favorite T shirts. They just grabbed a random one, as their dresser wasn't exactly the best organized.

Engie happened to be in the breakroom when Y/N walked in for a small snack. His eyes lit up slightly when he saw them, and even more so when he read their T shirt.

"So you listen to 5FDP too, dear?" Y/N whipped their head around to look at Engie in shock.

"Oh, since high school. They're my favorite!" Y/N beamed excitedly.

"I can play a few of their songs on my 6 string. Interested in a listen, sweetie?"

Y/N couldn't help but gush at the fact that they met another fan, but also with the sudden pet names.

'Let's see where this goes...'

MEDIC

I see him as a closet fan. He'd let on that he's a rock fan, but not the full extent. Like he wouldn't mention that he liked bands like Linkin Park and Metallica.

But he'd act quite excited if he discovered that Y/N was also a fan.

Medic and Y/N happened to get into a conversation about said music genre. "Vhat sort of music do you listen to in your spare time, Schatz?"

Y/N was hesitant to answer. The last thing they wanted was being put on the spot like that. "You'd hate the kind of music I like, Medic."

He scoffed lightly. "I highly doubt zhat, Schatz! It can't be zhat bad, can it?"

Y/N fought back the urge to roll their eyes. "Okay, I like screamo. Like the heaviest of heavy metal." They averted their eye contact with doctor, not wanting to see his disapproving face.

"Really?!" Medic practically shouted, making Y/N flinch a little. "Zhat's amazing! It's so nice to finally meet another fan like me!" He couldn't wipe the smirk off his face.

Y/N was not expecting that kind of reaction from him, but at least they didn't feel that nervous anymore (even with the slight ear damage lol).

SNIPER

He's definitely the kind of man to like classic rock, like Eric Clapton and Lynyrd Skynyrd. He'd know of screamo, but wouldn't be too big a fan.

He and Y/N had become quite close over the past few weeks, and at one point he finally decided to allow them to accompany him to his tower.

Y/N decided to bring their earbuds along, but they didn't realize how loud their music was (it was enough for Sniper to tell what it was).

"You like that, Sheila? Never strike you as that kind of person." Sniper spoke with his eyebrow raised.

"Oh snap, I didn't think my music was that loud. Sorry about that, Mundy." Y/N apologized while rubbing their neck nervously.

"It's alright, love. Just keep it down a little, 'kay?" He smirked while gently squeezing their shoulder in reassurance.

SPY

Not a fan whatsoever. He's tried to get into it, but he just couldn't do it.

Y/N was a decent judge of character, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to know he didn't like that kind of music.

Months passed by since Y/N joined RED/BLU. And in that time, Spy has made them his personal protege. One day, Y/N happened to be scrolling through a website (on their phone) that sells their favorite band's merch.

Spy happened to take a little peek other their shoulder, a smirk creeping on his face.

"So that's what you like, Mon chéri?" Y/N nearly jumped out of their skin as he spoke right next to their ear. "You never cease to amaze me. I'm always finding out new things about you."

"Spy! Ever hear of personal space??" Y/N hissed while blushing furiously.

Spy let out a hearty laugh. "No need to act all feisty, honey. Besides, at least now I know what to get you for your birthday."

[konigsblog]

oooh how does dadbod!könig treat you on your period, especially with really bad cramps. i can imagine having him lay his whole body weight on me so i can focus on the heat and pressure from his hairy body instead of my cramps.

dadbod!könig is a sweetheart, unlike toxic!dadbod!price (hence that he's toxic ...) he loves making home remedies to ease your cramps and pain. just relax and against him and let him massage your stomach while spoonfeeding you his home dish, some warm soup.

two large hands, like furnaces with the heat, massaging soothing circles onto your stomach while you lay down against his chest. your face tucked under his arm, one eye visible to watch the TV, and the sounds of your pleasure encouragement that he's doing well :( he adores how sleepy you get in his burly arms, your back against his chubby, yet muscular and hairy abdomen, feeling your body become lighter and your breathing shallower as you fall asleep against him!!

and, it takes a lot of reassurance to convince him to lay majority of his bodyweight on your back. the pressure eases your pain, but he makes sure he isn't hurting you before pressing more onto the small of your back, kissing your neck and wrapping his thick arms around your waist.

also, resting your head on his hairy, chubby stomach while he sits upright. playing with your hair in his hands and cupping your jaw, hearing your soft snores and little whines as you sleep, his hands massaging the aches on your shoulders.

thank god, he's so warm. personally, i'm freezing and have to either sleep with a bunch of blankets or three pairs of socks, but he'd be so warm, comforting.. god, i'd do anything to cuddle right up against him while on my period (right now...) :(((

[sgtcosmo]

under the weather - 141 headcanons

cw: none, just pure (established relationship) fluff <3 only pronoun used for reader is 'you'

a/n: i'm sick as shit rn and i've been laying in bed all day thinking about how the 141 would care for gn!reader while they're sick, so this is a lil bit self-indulgent hehe!! also, thank you for the love on my first drabble that i posted a couple days ago, it makes me so happy :') enjoy these!

gaz:

-he's an absolute sweetheart all the time already, but when you're sick? oh my god

-checking in on you every 10 minutes, even if it annoys you. he has to know that you're doing okay!!

-i hc him as being a great cook, so he definitely makes you some good ass homemade soups

-THIS ONE MADE MY HEART MELT WHEN I THOUGHT ABOUT IT but he would absolutely read to you. it'd either be wherever he left off in the most recent book he's reading on his own, or he'd grab one of your favourites from the shelf and start from the beginning

-lets you use his lap as a pillow while he reads to you, holding the book with one hand and playing with your hair with the other

-rubs your back soothingly when you're having one of those god awful coughing fits

-when he goes to the store to get you medicine and such, he'll facetime you the whole time. he'll show you the medicine and snacks/drinks at the store and let you pick which ones you want (he also wants to make sure that you're alright while he's gone <3)

-gives you his warmest and nicest sweaters to wear, doesn't care if they get dirty

ghost:

-runs you a bath and lets you soak in the warm water while he washes your hair

-will absolutely make you a hot cup of tea with honey to soothe your sore throat

-canned soup kinda guy. he'd still try his best to make it as appetizing as possible though, adding in extra bits that he knows you like

-you're not lifting a finger once he finds out you're sick. your household chores? they're his now. those errands you were supposed to run today? oops, he's already got his shoes on and keys in hand

-will not let you out of his sight. always keeps a watchful eye on you, no matter what. he took over your duty of washing the dishes? he's bundling you up in 10 blankets on the couch in the living room so he can turn around every 30 seconds and silently check on you

-would probably set reminders on his phone so you take your medicine exactly when you're supposed to, even if it's 3 am. he's up and fetching everything you need before you can even complain about the reminder going off and waking you up

-picks you up and carries you around the house so you don't have to walk

soap:

-still cuddles and kisses you, despite your attempts to push him away to prevent him from also getting sick. he doesn't give a shit

-plays video games with you, or watches you play. i feel like he'd be a try-hard at games and wouldn't take losing lightly, but he'd let you win just because you're sick. if you call him out for it, then he'd probably just make some half-assed excuse and say he must be having an 'off day'

-i feel like he's a canned soup-er, like ghost. will make a bowl for himself as well though so he can eat it with you

-pillow fort? pillow fort. makes a huge one in the living room with a big nest of blankets in it for you both to cuddle in. he even makes a little window through the pillows so you can see the tv and watch your favourite movies

-will order your favourite take-out for you once you feel well enough to eat something other than soup

-would make you laugh so much that it sends you into coughing fits (laughter is the best medicine, after all ;))

price:

-much like ghost, he'd keep a very watchful eye on you and check in on you often

-definitely a homemade soup guy. if there's a specific canned soup that you want, he'll make it exactly how it is, but better

-cuddles with you under a pile of blankets as you watch shitty rom-coms together

-lets you lay on him while you sleep, even if it's for hours at a time. he'd keep his arms wrapped securely around you and kiss the top of your head occasionally

-is willing to do anything and everything you need in order to get you back to good health as quickly as possible. just say the word and he's got it

-would buy medicine in every flavour it comes in just so you can try them all and see what one tastes best so taking it isn't such a miserable experience (i feel like soap would probably do this too? but he'd treat it more as a fun taste test ranking kind of thing)

-will go on short walks outside with you in hopes that the fresh air will make you feel better. he's bundling you up like nobody's business if it's cold outside, though

[alchemistc]

tastes like (he) might be the one

an: So this post made me feel some things and the drabble I started out underneath got wordy enough that I decided not to fully hijack the post.

Tommy is just now realizing has no idea how to prepare a meal.

Evan had told him where the spare key was and Tommy had wanted to do something nice for him but he is a forty year old man with NO concept of how to make a meal.

What do you put in a salad? Kale goes into the bowl and he finds Evan's cheese grater and a Romano wedge, but there's no bread around and Tommy eyes the bag of premade croutons in his pantry with unease before he calls it good.

The caprese is easy, he's made it a million times, a quick snack that reminds him of afternoons on his grandmother's back porch, drinking the thimble of espresso she'd allowed him while she spoke in her heavily accented voice.

He doesn't actually know how to tell Evan he's avoiding gluten without disappointing him, yet, (God he's down bad, the thought of Evan's bright smile faltering a bit like he's disappointed he hadn't thought to ask makes Tommy want to launch himself into the stratosphere) so he throws the pan of lasagne back in the oven on low and just... takes a deep breath.

Evan won't be back for at least another hour, though, and Tommy is fighting the itch to snoop, so he takes a quick glance at the supplies on hand and ends up whipping up the stracciatella recipe his mom had used to make him when he was sick. He's halfway through prepping it when he realizes he's fucking insane, but it's too late now.

The text hits his screen before he can contemplate hiding the evidence of the soup.

Be there in twenty.

So Tommy stirs, and rubs his suddenly sweaty hands on his thighs, and then he stares at the disaster he's made of the kitchen and starts sweeping things into the sink.

Evan, Eddie, everyone always thinks he's so cool, but the reality is that behind closed doors he's a fucking disaster and his head is a jumble of nerves. This is too much. Cohesively, it might make some semblance of sense in the range of 'this is all vaguely italian' but a minestrone would have been better, he just hadn't had the time. This is too much -- too much food, too much effort, too much like ripping open his chest and guiding Evan's hand to wrap around his pumping heart and squeeze.

The locks on the doors tumble open just as Tommy is drying the cutting board, and Evan presses in with a tired smile.

The smile goes wider at the sight of his table, laid out in some semblance of order Tommy doesn't remember, but it had made sense at the time.

Be cool, Kinard, Tommy thinks to himself, but he can't help but melt a little when Evan tosses his keys carelessly to the side board and then slides across the room, no unease in his face as he sidles up, hands curling around Tommy's hips, head tilted in the way Tommy absolutely knows is a flirt, now.

"Hey."

Tommy blinks. He's disarming, unreal, Tommy has known him for barely any time at all but he'd bend over backwards to make that smile stay on Evan's face forever.

"Hi."

Evan's thumbs are playing with his belt loops, and his grin dimples his cheeks, and suddenly he's slightly less alarmed that he'd cobbled together a disaster of a three (four?) course meal like a crazy person.

Tommy wants to hand him his spare key back. He also wants to grab his key ring and add the spare to it, full eye contact going while he tucks it in between the truck key and his own house key. He wants to bite Evan's neck, and tug him into his chest and never let go, he wants -

"Smells good in here. Did you make something? You didn't have to make anything, I would have -."

"I wanted to," he manages, around the blinding flare of Evan's smile.

Tommy is cool as a fucking cucumber. Evan presses his lips to the junction of Tommy's jaw, darts around him before Tommy can reciprocate. Grabs two wine glasses from a cabinet and when Tommy turns to look at the broad expanse of his back, Evan has his head ducked bashfully, and Tommy can see the edges of his grin, the swell of his cheek in profile.

At least he's not alone in this, Jesus.

Evan pours them wine, fingers curling around Tommy's. He stares at the meager offerings on display, and Tommy can see him ticking off serving utensils in his mind. He doesn't say a word about the monstrosity that is a kale and Romano salad (???), just dances around Tommy again, wine glass balanced in his hand, to grab some dressing from the fridge.

"Hey, there are oven mitts in that top drawer, there, can you grab the lasagne? It's gluten free, Chin mentioned something about you avoiding it?"

Tommy contemplates sinking to his knees right there in front of his sad sack salad. Why hadn't he looked for ingredients for the caprese first?

Instead he pulls the lasagne out, lays it out across the wicker hot pads he'd set out earlier. The moment it's securely on the table, Evan presses fully against his back, and Tommy wonders if he should have stopped to get flowers. Or condoms.

Both, probably.

"Did you make me soup?" he asks, lips pressed to the knob of Tommy's spine.

"From what I hear you've had a rough day. Soup always makes a rough day better." He wishes his wine glass was still in his hand, and not next to the oven where he'd left it. He twists to face Evan and Evan gives up zero ground, toe to toe and a delighted little gleam in his eye Tommy knows is going to get him in trouble one day.

"Hi," Evan says, again, and Tommy curls a hand around his hip and drags him half an inch closer.

[weministertomonsters]

The Näcken

This story is dedicated to House_Sparrow on Wattpad, who gave the suggestion. <3

➤ Wordcount - 1.8k

Nøkken/Nykkjen/Näcken is a sinister male freshwater spirit from Norwegian and Swedish folklore, his first mention dating all the way back to the Viking age. He is said to dwell in dark ponds, lakes, or rivers. Nøkken is a shapeshifter but is most known to take the shape of a handsome man with long hair (Swedish), a monster of twigs and seaweed with glowing eyes (Norwegian), or a white horse.

Nøkken plays a fiddle, or in some stories a harp, and he is said to be the best musician in the world. In many stories, Nøkken uses his beautiful violin music to put people in a trance to lure them into the water and drown them. In other stories, Nøkken may play a more active role in pulling them into the depths.

───────────────────

"Papa is back!" Your six-year-old niece, Eloise, announces as she comes barging into the tavern with a big smile.

She's been playing outside and has a smudge on her button nose and two dirty spots on her skirt from where she's been kneeling in the dirt, digging for worms. She pauses to pet the ginger cat asleep in the corner and skips up to you, proceeding to slingshot her body against your leg, nearly knocking you off balance. Her chin digs into your thigh as she looks up at you adoringly.

"What are we having for dinner?" She asks.

"Vegetable soup, and the bread I baked fresh this morning," you reply, giving the counter one last pass with your dishcloth to make sure it's all clean for the busy night.

"And fried skipper?" Her eyes grow wide.

"Why don't you go see if your Papa caught some?" You suggest.

You can't help but smile as she goes charging outside to give her father the same tackle-treatment. Usually, he laughs and grabs her and spins her around, but you don't hear any laughter today. You hang the dishcloth out to dry and walk outside to find them.

Eloise is gaping up at her father and although you can't see her face, you know she's never this quiet unless something is wrong. Your barrel-chested brother is soaking wet, standing with his head low and hair plastered to his face, clutching an empty net in one hand. There's no fish. Even the worst fishing days still turn out a small catch.

"Eloise, how about you go inside and clean up for supper?" You tell her.

Surprisingly she goes the first time you ask, wide-eyed as she scampers inside.

"What happened?" You ask, and then you spot what he's holding in his other hand. "Is that... A fiddle?"

"Yeah." He drops the net and rolls his shoulders.

"You didn't buy that with your fish, did you?" You ask suspiciously.

"I wouldn't do that," he huffs and starts into the little cottage beside the tavern that you share.

"It wasn't long ago now that you spent your entire day's worth of fishing on beer," you remind him, but your tone is gentle.

You both know why he drank so much. When his wife died he'd shut down, and it took the power of god and one very determined little girl to dig him out of the dark hole he'd retreated into.

"I didn't buy this," he says, setting it on the kitchen table with a thump.

"Be careful of that, will you? It looks well made," you murmur, eyeing it. "Will you tell me what happened then? And tell me why you've got a fiddle."

"I was out fishing by the river when I heard music," he begins, peeling off his vest and hanging it by the fire to dry. "It was coming from the middle of the river, where that big willow grows. I was curious, so I got my boat closer."

"Change first, you can continue after you're dry," you tell him, beginning to warm up the vegetable soup and slice the bread.

He heads upstairs to change and comes down a few minutes later with Eloise. She clambers into a chair, thanking you when you give her a bowl of soup and a generous slice of bread. She's a real trooper and doesn't complain about the lack of her favorite fried fish.

"I thought they were things of legend, but there it sat," your brother picks up the story from where he left off. "A Näcken. Would've thought it was just some man off his rocker but he had this air to him. And he was naked as a baby and pale as a river stone. Hard to unsee that."

"Ahem." You raise your eyebrows and gesture to his daughter, who is so engrossed in the story that her bread is going soggy in the soup.

"Did it have big teeth, Papa?" She asks. "Did it try to eat you?"

"I wouldn't know, Pumpkin. I got pulled in the water 'fore I could get a good look," he stares at his bowl, frowning. "I'm a good swimmer, but there I was, about to drown in just a couple feet of water."

"Then what?" Eloise pipes up. "Did you scare it away?"

"Shouted at him to stop playing the bloody thing but he just kept at it. So I grabbed a rock and threw it as hard as I could. Bam! I got him right across the face." He smacks his hand against the table and the dishes rattle.

Eloise laughs in delight and looks adoringly at her father, the "monster slayer" but you're far from impressed.

"So you thought taking his fiddle would fix it, did you?" Your voice is cool as your eyes narrow.

"Well, it means he can't play," he shrugs. "Serves him right for trying to drown a good man, I say. Let's see him try his tricks now."

For Eloise's sake, you drop the matter, but your gaze keeps turning to the fiddle leaning against the wall, dripping water to the floor. Once dinner is over and Eloise is tucked into bed, you confront him.

"Brother, that creature is going to be very unhappy that you took something of his. What do you think will happen the next time you go out to the river?"

"Let him try. I'm taking my hunting knife with me tomorrow," he says, his huge body lit by the dancing flames from the fireplace.

Your brother is a sturdy man and can take care of himself. But the look in his eyes... It's been a long time since you've seen him look like this.

"But—"

"Relax, sister. I'll give the damn thing back eventually," he rumbles. "You know, I... I thought I wasn't going to make it back today. All I could think of was you and Eloise ending up on your own."

You squeeze his shoulder and settle down to knit for a few minutes before it's time to open up the tavern. You're making a new coat for Eloise to wear on cold days. As you knit, you keep glancing at the fiddle, its gleaming surface reflecting the flames from the fireplace. You have some doubts, but you trust your brother when he says he'll give the instrument back, so you let it be.

A few days go by, and you were correct in your assumption that the näcken would be displeased. Your brother doesn't catch a single fish and comes home each day, seething. One afternoon, you decide you've had enough.

"I'm sending it back," you announce as you hang the last of the laundry. "I can't contend with your sulking."

Your brother is sitting on the porch, drinking his third tankard of beer.

"I used to be one of the best fishermen, sister. Now look at me. Reduced to a lout who can't catch a fish to save his life," he groans.

"You can't hope to battle against the supernatural and win," you reply. "I say you're lucky he hasn't drowned you yet."

"I've seen him a few more times. Just sits on the rocks and laughs at me. I ought to—"

"You stay put." You grab the fiddle from the shelf where you had placed it to keep it safe.

"I can give it myself, you know," your brother says, but he doesn't move from his spot.

"Ha, I doubt you can walk in a straight line, insufferable fool." You ruffle his hair like you're kids again. "I'll be back."

"Be careful, sister," he calls after you. "If he tries to lure him in, hit him with a rock. It worked for me."

You roll your eyes and start for the river. It doesn't take long to reach, even on foot. The water is framed by grassy banks and spotted with lily pads that float on the surface, brightening the scene with their pink flowers. You can see the willow growing on the small island in the center of the river, but there's no water spirit in sight. You stand at the bank of the river and look around.

"I brought your fiddle back," you call out. "My brother was wrong to take it."

The quiet hum of nature answers you. Birds chirping in the trees and the soft sound of running water. You lift your skirt and wade as far into the water as you dare, clutching the fiddle tightly. The water comes up to your shins and you pause.

"I'll just leave it here for you. Please let my brother fish in your river. My family needs the extra income."

You wait another beat, but you don't see or hear anything out of the ordinary, so you place the fiddle in the water and give it a little push, so it floats away from you. As you turn to trudge out of the river, something rises out of the water right next to you. Your shoe slides on the slimy rocks and you tumble into the water with a little scream. For a moment you don't know up from down—the water is suddenly so deep—but then you're pulled up by a firm grasp on your elbow.

"Thank you," you gasp at how cold the water is, your teeth already beginning to chatter.

The Näcken stands before you, tall and thin, with stringy green hair so long and plentiful that it covers his nakedness. His eyes are the color of bracken water, a murky blue. You can see your surprised face reflected in them.

"Thank you," he says simply. "For bringing back my fiddle."

"It's no trouble. My brother should have never taken it," you reply a little breathlessly.

After all, it's not every day you speak with a supernatural being. He backs away from you and you hastily reach for his forearm. His skin is slippery-smooth and your hand just slides off. He looks at his arm and then at you, his hair falling in his face.

"Can my brother fish again?" You ask timidly.

"I'll think about it," the Näcken replies, tucking his hair behind one pointed ear.

"Well, all he did was take your fiddle, and I have returned it in one piece," you say slowly.

"He threw rocks at me," the Näcken says. "I do not abide any harm attempted on my face."

"I'll tell him to apologize," you say desperately. "Please?"

"Hmmm. You should go now," he says, sinking halfway into the water. "I am about to play."

You know not to press your luck, so you turn to leave. You're already out of the water when the Näcken calls out to you.

"Come back tomorrow, and I will give you my answer," he says.

You turn to look at him, but he's disappeared. You can hear the beginnings of a tune, and it's an alluring sound. But the effect is dampened because he keeps stopping to twang at the strings and tune them. You leave before he can begin to properly play.

[creedslove]

New dad Joel (Sarah or second baby) would be get himself covered with baby food

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: anon omg that's too cute our husband Joel 😭

• You were very concerned about your baby's eating habits, it wasn't too much of a big deal until you heard nightmarish stories about other moms who desperately tried making their babies eat but they refused any kind of food

• so when the solid food introduction part started for your princess, you'd made your best to have her accept all kinds of foods and mostly veggies

• and one thing you absolutely loved was how similar she was to her daddy Joel; just like your husband who would eat absolutely EVERYTHING, your baby also accepted everything

• but there was something about babies eating: they were messy

• you were very patient, knowing it was part of the process, but there were some evenings you were just so tired after working and taking care of your little family, you didn't even hesitate when Joel said he would take care or his little princess' dinner

• you were very thankful for your husband wanting to help, but you also knew he didn't stand a chance against your baby. Yes he was an experienced dad and he'd been through all that with Sarah, but the problem was that he couldn't resist his baby, she was too cute and she easily distracted him with her cute smiles and laughter and soon enough Joel had forgotten to feed her and was simply playing with her

• which was cute but the two of them made such a mess. She would bang her tiny little hands against her plate in excitement, splashing around her soup as her silly daddy made funny faces and tickled her

• she would also reach for him with her chubby dirty hands and he simply didn't have the courage to say no, so he didn't even care if he had stains of food on his shirt

• you walked to them, both Joel and your baby daughter giggling and fussing instead of having dinner and you raised your eyebrow at him

"aren't you a little old to have potatoes in your hair, Joel?"

• you picked one piece of that was stuck in one of his curls, god knew how it ended up there, but it was funny

• he turned to the baby and shrugged

"it's okay princess, mommy doesn't have fun during dinner like we do"

• and your baby girl gave her daddy another sweet, heart warming gummy smile

• she had her daddy, the big grumpy Joel Miller, wrapped around her tiny little finger and he knew it and loved it ❤️

____

[tokyo-debunkers-headcanons]

Frostheim Ghouls with a sassy gn! MC (+ tiny drabble)

JIN KAMURA

Personally, I think Jin would be surprised by their sass. It would piss him off for sure, but I think he'd find it refreshing....after a while. He don't take shit from anybody especially not some New 'honor student', certainly not at first but I think there's some heart under all that royal ice. He'd get used to it in his own way. (Now onto a short drabble.)

Jin glared daggers at his phone. He reread the message the new 'Inspector' sent him, only getting more annoyed with each glance. He had ordered the Inspector to come to his room. Not only did they take their sweet ass time to respond but they had the nerve to tell him that 'they were busy'. He was the king damnit! He had better things to do than wait for them to decide to text back or show up. He quickly sent a message to Tohma to check on them, make sure they didn't do something stupid again with the second year Ghouls. He ignored Tohma's smart-ass response in favor of laying back down. Having to bail out that damn Inspector was starting to be a real pain in the ass. He'd always come when things got rough however, not that he would admit it.

TOHMA ISHIBASHI

God! I think Tohma has been WAITING for someone to try him. He is a sass master and a known smart-ass. He KNOWS how to throw whatever sass MC gives him right back at them with flair. Even if they get along, he will always find some way to sass them back, even if it's subtle. (Drabble time!)

Tohma's practiced smile didn't falter for a moment when MC told him they knew how to play chess. If anything, it got even wider. He sat back up straight in his chair and gestured to the board, saying,

"Please do forgive my assumption. You have the starting move."

MC was no master at chess, but they knew the rules at the very least, so they thought it wouldn't be that hard....how wrong they were. In only a short while, Tohma had them in check, having quite a few of their pieces and even their queen. MC looked down at the board in shock, they looked back up at Tohma, his smile still present as he said,

"Forgive me. I thought you said you knew how to play,"

KAITO FUJI

I feel like Kaito's granny forced fed him some respect people soup every day when he was growing up, so I don't think sass would shock him that much until it was pointed at him. He gets SHOOK whenever gets sassed by MC, no matter how many times it happens. He always apologizes profusely, berating himself for being a moron out loud. He just really wants to get with MC and if being sassed is the price, mans will do his best to pay it, but he will blame someone else if he can get away with it. (To the drabble!)

Kaito went pale at MC's tone, he didn't mean to talk for them. Damn Luca couldn't read the room. He wanted to have lunch alone with MC but Luca had to butt in and tag along. When MC yelled at him he felt like a kid getting scolded by his Granny again. He took a breath and crossed his arms, apologizing to Luca. He turned to MC apologizing for speaking for them. Offering to buy them another crepe to make it up to them. In his mind however, he was already deciding his next move for anoyher chance.

LUCAS ERRANT "LUCA"

My best boy! (I'm not biased i swear/j) I honestly think MC would be more sarcastic than sassy to Luca. He's just doing his best and he wants his bro back. He 100% doesn't get social cues so it goes right over his head or he just takes it literally. He'll genuinely apologize for making them upset. He will also a deep bow and a small pack of biscuits as an extra layer to his apology. (QUICK ROBIN! TO THE DRABBLE!)

Luca paused, looking back at MC. It took him a moment to think about what they said, but even then, he didn't quite understand what they meant. He turned to them, asking,

"Did something I say upset you?"

Luca bowed deeply, keeping his head down as he said,

"If that is the case, then I apologize. If I ever say something insensitive again, please correct me. I hope you can forgive me."

He held out a small pack of biscuits with both hands, keeping his head down until either MC took the biscuits, accepted his apology, or explained that they weren't actually upset.

(There you have it folks. Honestly Kaito's is the weakest, I'm sorry. But someone's gotta start the headcanon train!)

[muldermuse]

love love loving the Two Sinners series! Best I’ve read! Keep it up!!

Wondering what would happen if they got one of those remote controlled vibrators that can be controlled by the other one.

Maybe they can’t see each other for a while so reader wears it all day and gets an unexpected surprise at at awkward moment OR Gator inserts it and reader is in control OR they are both at some event in public and are controlling the devices just to fuck with each other.

CHURCH POT LUCK

CHURCH POT LUCK

CHURCH. POT. LUCK.

nsfw below the cut. mdni. <3

you'd seen Gator quickly in the morning, he was on the overnight shift so could visit you before heading home to Glenda. whenever he came to see you at the ass crack of dawn, he'd always have to decency to drop off a black mcdonalds coffee (he always plays it off that he drank a gatorade and couldn't finish it but really it's because he knows that it's your fav cheap takeaway coffee)

he fucks you so soft and slow on mornings like this. you're both exhausted and using all your remaining energy to make the other feel good. he kisses deep into your mouth to swallow your soft whines for him. his breath is hot against your neck, leaving soft bites against your neck; damp with both of your perspiration. "thought about this all fuckin' night long", it's mumbled quietly against your skin. you both smile to yourselves. neither of you last long and usually, Gator would fall asleep wrapped around you for an hour before heading home. but today he's scrabbling off you to get dressed- it's the Church Pot Luck. the event that takes over his home life because Glenda fucking loves it.

he's lost in his thoughts as he shoves his feet into his boots. considering how he won't be able to sleep when he gets home, how Glenda will have him tasting her bland soup for confirmation of how good it was and how his Father would criticise him for not helping enough. a sudden vibration behind his ear pulled him from his thoughts.

"what the fuck is that?" he sounds exasperated, which is not the mood you wanted to go for at all.

"it's a toy for us, to make the pot luck more bearable" you've wrapped your blanket around yourself, deciding that you'll probably stay in bed naked until it's time to get dressed.

Gator shakes his head, "'s always fuckin' somethin' on this day- you're not even a fuckin' part of the church. why do you go? just to make me miserable?". You grin and nod as you press a quick kiss to his cheek. He smiles despite himself.

you drop the blanket and crawl into the middle of the bed, sliding the small but sleek silicone vibrator inside you. that feeling alone has you flustered and you're trying to stifle a moan before you can speak. "it's a remote control vibrator, that pink thing on the table? it controls the vibrations" you drop your voice to sound as subby as possible, "jus' want you to be in control today, Sir". a deep red flush crosses his complexion as he squeezes his hardening cock through his boxers.

"baby, i don't have time for this i gotta go" he heads out as you shout at him if he doesn't want to use it, you'll invite another date instead.

he texts you 15 minutes later, telling you to wear the vibe.

you reply a few hours later as you pull up to the potluck simply saying, do your worst.

***

you sneak into the potluck. you don't want to draw attention to yourself. a few colleagues from work are standing in a corner and wave you over. they hand you a cup of spiked punch that you sip slowly; trying to calm your nerves. you blend into the conversation seamlessly, almost forgetting about the pink toy nestled against your walls.

until it turns on. it's like a lightning bolt.

you'd neglected to mention to Gator that it has a variety of settings. he didn't just have to turn up it to 11. i mean you had told him to do his worse. what makes it worse, is that everyone notices. your friends crowd around you and talk over each other as the vibrations continue, "oh my god are you okay?", "lemme grab you a chair" and "is this your back again?". you reassure them that you're fine and grab another cup of the sickly sweet spiked punch. you try to focus on the false coconut of the malibu rather than how close you're getting to cumming in this church.

then, it stops.

you take the respite to seek out your tormentor. Gator's arm is around Glenda's waist but his eyes are locked on yours. he's smirking at you, your eyes follow his hand into his pocket and you immediately feel the vibrations start again. it feels more intense than before, if you were alone in your room you'd be screaming. you keep staring at Gator as you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood.

he does this agonising routine throughout the event until finally- you have to sneak into the bathroom and make yourself cum. your hand trembles as you pull the lock across, you softly moan as you pull your underwear down your trembling legs whilst the vibrations continue. you try not to look at yourself in the small mirror hanging above the sink. the cool touch of the sink contrasts the burning touch of your body.

you're so close to the edge, that you're finally allowing yourself to be lost in the overwhelming sensation. and then, again, it stops.

you cry out like you're in pain. there's a small knock on the door and you hear Gator's hushed voice tell you to open the door.

once he's in the cramped room with you, he's quick to put his hand around your throat and he takes your damp underwear in his other hand. a chaste kiss is placed against your forehead as he whispers, "'m gonna make you cum now okay baby? but i've gotta put these in your mouth to make sure you stay quiet. such a loud girl for me aren't you?". your nod is desperate as he pushes your panties past your lips, you savour the tangy taste of your own arousal. Gator quickly pulls your tits out of your dress and runs this thumb and forefinger against your pebbled nipples.

you look at his reflection as the vibration starts again. it's all too much, his strong hand around your throat, your own fucked reflection in the mirror, the panties in your mouth, and the changing pressure on your nipples. it hits you so fucking hard and it feels so fucking good. your legs are shaking, and your whole body is quivering as you see Gator smirk in the mirror at the sight before him.

he switches it off once you've come down, he kisses you, and takes the wet panties from your mouth. he mutters a quiet "fuck" as he slips them into his pocket and leaves without saying goodbye.

[a-random-weeb]

BSD men x reader sick headcannons

im sick as well as my friend so fml I'm writing this

Warnings: le sick, this is kind of self indulgent in a way but at the same time your sick so... you have the right while your sick.

Autre warnings: this is my first fic, it's probably gonna suck ;-;

also soup is the food of the gods in this for some reason

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Dazai:

•he bursts out laughing at first, making fun of you (in a friendly way)

•Once he's done with his laughing fit, he does (try to) take care of you

•ok he's not the worst at taking care of people, but I feel like the worst part would be him making fun of you

•he won't let you go to work/school (if you're a student like in highschool pretend you're older), just because he's laughing at you, doesn't mean he doesn't care.

•he'd cuddle you, then end up getting sick, then you take care if him and cuddle him, then you get sick and so on until one of you realizes you can't cuddle (aka you, and he complains. This is the same for Nikolai)

•he pisses you off, but he loves you

"how did you get sick?!" He laughs as he hands you a bowl of soup, as you lie in the silky sheets of your shared bed with the worst cold of your life. You shoot him a glare as you take the soup in your shaking hands, making sure not to drop it.

"I already told you, my coworker got me sick!" You begin to eat your soup, frustrated and pissed. He plants a kiss on your forehead

"I'll call your work and tell them you're taking the day off!" He skips to the other room. You lie there, thankful for your lovely boyfriend.

(I don't simp for dazai so it was hard to write for him. This is my first fanfic EVER, be quiet. I only put dazai at the top for a friend.)

˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖˚♡˚˖♡︎˖

Chuuya:

•He's easy to anger, so when you get sick, he knows you probably did something stupid to get yourself sick.

•Unlike Dazai, he's a good cook, but still he makes you soup, and angrily holds it out to you.

•he takes care of you, but acts angry the whole time. I say acts, but he really is angry, but he also cares about you. But is still angry.

•he's not Bakugou level angry, he's still calm(ish)

•he does verbally abuse you the whole time though.

•But it's not actually abuse. I feel like he just calls you dumbass and idiot.

•he's very forceful with everything he does ("eat! Or I'll force feed you!") ←(this is my fav head cannon for him, he would)

•He cuddles you, but somehow this man does not get sick, until he does, then you take care of him, but he doesn't let you touch him while taking care of him so the same thing that happened with dazai doesn't happen with you. There will be no cycle.

•He also buys you a lot of expensive medicine

•you piss him off, but so does everything

"You idiot! How the hell did you get yourself sick?!" He hands the bowl soup to you.

"I was playing in the rain with a cat." You give him an innocent look as he shoots you a glare.

"Why?! You knew it would get you sick!"

"but... there was puddles... and a cat who liked water..."

Chuuya facepalms. "Seriously?!" He sighs, calming himself down. He sits next to you on the bed as you eat your soup. He's rich, and I feel like you begged him to buy a tv for he bedroom. You guys watch my hero academia. Even though I said he cuddles you while sick, I don't think he'd actually unless you cling to him, then he'll let you sometimes. But he just sits on the other side of the bed as you watch anime together, and pass out in eachothers presence.

(I cringed at this one, it wasn't as good as I hoped. I made him a tiny bit ooc too ;-; idk I feel like it's good for a first time.)

✧.𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°｡⋆✧˖°.✧˖°.✧˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°｡⋆°.✧˖°.✧˖°..𖥔 ݁ ˖𖦹⭒°｡⋆

Kunikida:

•He's nicer than the rest of them

•He's the only decently normal one of the boys.

•he makes you soup and blah blah blah

•He doesn't cuddle you, he has common sense

•You don't want to get him sick either, so....

•He buys you medicine, he knows the best kinds

(I couldn't think of a scenario. Sorry)

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Akutagawa:

•Has no idea what to do

•He thinks you're gonna die so he makes this whole dramatic speech

•All you have is a common cold 😭

•after he figures out you're not gonna die, he asks what he can do

•He goes to the store to buy you medicine

•He doesn't know what else to do

•you tell him it's fine and all you need is a few days off of work

•He feels too bad, so he goes on one of those weird websites

•Next thing you know he comes in a skateboard and circling around you, chanting these weird, demonic words 😭

•"Wa bubu shaaaaaa qut epeu turu!"

"Aku wth are you doing?!"

"Curing your sick"

𓍢ִ໋✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡✧˖°~∆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𓍢ִ໋✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡✧˖°~∆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚𓍢ִ໋

I too lazy to write for anyone else, this is a quick drabble and my first fanfic. I hope you liked it!

[captain-mj]

Honestly a tradegy that the fandom has so many "possessive ghost/ ghost kidnaps soap" but none of soap being the kidnapper I think it would be fun! Very much feel soap would be more of a "taking you for your own good" sorta guy

(Are there any fics like this and if yes PLS link)

I have zero clue if there are any BUT I can make one

Ghost never, ever drank with people if he could avoid it. After the military wouldn't let him back in after Roba, he spent so much of his life trying to drink it away.

Soap was no different. The only difference was that he happened to be his bartender.

After a while, Soap managed to break down some of his walls. Soap just... got him. He was so nice and there was something about him that put Ghost naturally at ease.

And it's the biggest reason why waking up restrained and without his mask felt so much like a betrayal.

Soap looked at him, serene. So gentle.

Ghost tried to jerk himself forward to strangle him but it only bent his back harder. It hurt.

"It's okay, Simon. Not going to hurt you."

"Fucking bastard. Did Roba put you up to this? He pay you?" Ghost spat out, suddenly very very scared. He couldn't handle it. He'd kill himself first. What they were doing in Manchester?

His family.

Oh god, Tommy and Joseph and Beth and his Mom.

"Who's Roba?" Soap tilted his head, fluffy mohawk getting in his eyes. "Nothing like that, m'eudail. How often do you leave the house?"

Ghost glared. "I don't know."

"6. Every night except Tuesday night, you come to the bar. You have your food delivered. You work out in your home. Your mom visits you on Wednesdays which is why you don't come to the bar on Tuesdays. It's so you won't be hungover when she comes, right?"

Ghost stared at him. "You've been stalking me."

Soap smiled. "For months. Watched your every move. You don't take good care of yourself."

Ghost started to take deep breaths, realizing how well he was played. "I... I..."

"It's okay. I promise. I would never hurt you, Simon." He ran his hands through Ghost's hair, gently touching each bleached strand. "Do you dye your hair so you don't look like your father?"

Ghost physically couldn't cry. Instead, he shook until he thought his bones would shatter.

Soap winced. "I'm going to undo some of the ties so you can get in a more comfortable position. You're not going to try to escape, ya understand? You're in a cabin in the middle of the Scottish wilderness."

Ghost let him slowly rearrange him, feeling helpless. Being out of the military and also still being injured meant it was hard to really keep his skills up. He had barely started to bulk back up.

The bed underneath him felt... nice though. Far more comfortable than anything Ghost had ever had.

"I spent a lot of money on this cabin. Had some rich family members die." Soap grinned and Ghost knew for a fact Soap killed them. "So, you're going to be safe here. No more worries. No more fears."

Ghost shuddered and rolled on to his stomach, hiding his face.

"I don't mind your scars. No need to hide those from me."

Ghost choked down something harsh mixed with bile.

"You're not getting your mask back. Don't make me tie you to the bed. I want to see your face."

Ghost slowly adjusted, taking deep even breaths. He was going to die here. The one person he thought was his friend betrayed him.

"There you go, m'eudail." He continued to stroke Ghost's hair until he eventually fell back to sleep, weighed down and likely still drugged.

When he woke back up, his arms were tied behind his back and he was leaning against the headboard. There was a small tray in front of him with some food.

Soap smiled at him. "I'm going to have to feed you. Can't trust you not to try to kill me." He got a spoonful of the soup he had made and offered to Ghost.

Ghost glared at him. "No."

"Simon. Be a good boy for me." Johnny purred, using the same voice he made in the dead of night when he encouraged a very drunk Ghost to drink some water.

Slowly, he opened his mouth, shamefully letting Soap feed him.

It was delicious. Tasted better than the cheap stuff he had been getting. Anything he couldn't microwave was usually out. He just... couldn't bring himself to cook. Soap picked up on his disappointment when it was gone.

"I'll make you more, okay?" Ghost nodded and Soap touched his face, making him squirm. "I can't wait for when I trust you enough to untie you. I promise, I'll take such good care of you."

Ghost looked at him and nodded. Maybe if he played along, it would be easier...

Later that night, Soap got a gun out. He undid Ghost's binds and motioned for him to go to the shower. Ghost followed him, watching the gun warily. Soap clearly had training, knowing exactly how to avoid getting close enough for Ghost to yank it from his hands. He also kept the gun aimed at his legs so it wouldn't kill Ghost if he shot.

Ghost cleaned himself up, enjoying the smell of the soap. It was... pine? He wasn't sure. Once he was done, he pulled the towel into the shower, refusing to let Soap see him.

Soap had gotten him a t-shirt and some sweatpants. They had a skull design on it that he liked a lot. As awful as it was, Soap clearly knew exactly what Ghost liked.

Ghost obediently let Soap tie his hands back together before Soap put him to bed. He sank into the luxury of the blankets and sheets.

Soap got in bed next to him and Ghost was already stepping outside of his body. It wasn't that bad if he dissociated early.

But Soap did not start to undress him. Didn't tug his pants down or get handsy. He didn't even touch him.

Nights were easily the best. Ghost had plenty of time to himself and Soap never touched him at night. He also put rain sounds on at night. It helped him sleep.

The withdrawals hit fast. His steady diet of alcohol and the painkillers he was prescribed for his.... entire body honestly. Soap was so sweet the entire time, knowing exactly how to help even though he refused to give him the drugs or the alcohol to make it stop.

Ghost felt lips against his forehead as Soap checked his fever. "Don't touch me like that."

"Just checking your temperature, Simon. You're so warm. I'm worried." He gave him more acetaminophen and gently pet his hair. "You're going to be okay."

Ghost grimaced as he moved. His vision turned fuzzy as the fever got worse. "Don't let the skeletons get me."

"the skeletons?"

"Yeah. They haunt my dreams. Roba made them."

"Who is Roba?"

Ghost swallowed. "He raped me. A lot. He kept me locked up."

Soap winced. "I'd never. Ever. I promise. I just want to love you, Simon." He put a wet rag over his forehead, trying to cool him down.

"I know. You wouldn't do that to me." Ghost smiled serenely, even as the world spun. Soap stayed next to him, protecting him from the night terrors and fever induced hallucination until he managed to get through it all.

He kept waiting for the other shoe to fall. Ultimatums or forcing himself upon him.

Soap never did. He had such soft hands that fed him and tied him looser and looser until one day he didn't bother.

"If you kill me, I'll be happy knowing I got to spoil you as long as I could."

Ghost didn't even try. The only difference was he (usually) fed himself. He had gotten spoiled and they both knew it.

Soap was gentle when he tried to ask Ghost if he wanted more. It was soft. Just a slight brush of his hands on Ghost's thigh before he grabbed Ghost's hand and held it. "Anything else I can do for you?"

Ghost wanted to say yes. Stupidly. But if he broke, he knew Soap would take whatever he wanted. Despite how good Soap was, he was still anxious. Unreasonably so.

It was absolutely reasonable. Soap was a kidnapper.

Soap nodded when Ghost turned him down and it didn't get brought back up. They watched movies on the couch and Ghost waited by the door whenever Soap had to leave and occasionally they went outside. It was winter and very cold so they didn't do it very often.

Ghost was spoiled and that's why when Soap slipped his shirt off to shower, he touched him. Tracing the tattoos on his back. Enjoying the feeling of him warm beneath.

"Your fingers are freezing." Soap commented, leaning into him. "Having fun?"

Ghost lightly leaned down and kissed his shoulder. "Yes. I am."

[hopefulnightlady]

141 Headcannons two, electic boogaloo (NSFW, gender neutral)

Part one (Price): here

Part three(Gaz): here

Part four(Ghost): here

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Hello folks, as promised here you have more Soup (Soap). This is possibly one of my more controversial opinions, so read at you at own risk to learn the truth. If you disagree, tell me, so I can politely tell you how wrong you are.

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As always, here be spicy content beneath the cut.

Perhaps, besides Ghost (and Price. oh god Gaz too. shit) my most controversial take.

If you think John "Soap" Mactavish is a sub bottom, kindly, this is your sign to leave, and possibly go nibble a brick wall to consume the lichen growing on it for sustenance.

This is your second, and last, warning.

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Are they all gone? Okay, now that only the objectively correct people remain:

DOM LEANING SWITCH

more sadistic tendencies than masochistic, but both exist

Listen to me. That man thrives in the military power structure, he's happy there, so he'd be happy in a kink dynamic too.

Deffo more of a soft dom

I feel he'd be playful, and assertive, and perceptive at once somehow (juuust like everywhere else in life)

Could totally decouple the giving/recieving bits of sex from dominance/submission and wouldn't think twice before power bottoming the hell out of someone.

Or just bottoming, he doesn't strike me as too picky

Could probably manage to dom someone while being pegged by them (and he'd love it too lmao)

Probably not so much a fan of physical restraints, wouldn't really get the appeal at all

What would he do instead? Maybe ask you sweetly to 'Hold onto the headboard for him, darling?'

Or simply use those gorgeous muscles of his to pin you wherever (never without warning, though, even if it's a playful pin)

Growls. he canonically does, so i allow it here too

Not to get into specific kinks too much but i feel like he'd enjoy chastity but like in a very dom way where he has his own keys and it's mostly for himself???

I know it may sound odd but I've seen people do it and i thought that was cool and Soap would enjoy that

Aftercare:

For aftercare, he'd be very attentive, and make sure you feel safe, and valued, showering you with praise

Especially careful with wound care, he enjoys impact play I’d think.

But he does NOT enjoy seeing his partner in pain they didn't want or plan to be in

Would also talk through everything PAINSTAKINGLY, like wayyy beyond necessary.

It's worse in the beginning, he'd be at least a little worried his partner might be pretending to enjoy things for his sake

As most things, the worry would fade over time, but the care doesn't

Would give BANGER massages as aftercare

The end. lmao. As always:

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[necrotic-nephilim]

HI!! hope ur having a good day.

do you have any headcanons about how/when jeantim would happen? :]

hello!!! i am having a lovely day, i went to the library and somehow between four people, we got 28 books. which is even funnier given one of those people is an infant who can't read. but i would LOVE to talk about JeanTim headcanons oh my god-

so the thing i can never decide on with JeanTim is if i prefer them getting together during or after AzBats. i *think* for like, a longterm relationship, i lean toward afterward. don't get me wrong, i *love* dub-con JeanTim where either Jean-Paul outright non-cons Tim, or more my speed, where Tim offers himself sexually to Jean-Paul as a desperate attempt to get him to be a less violent Batman. the joy of Tim is his need to serve and placate Batman, so i think if he thought offering himself sexually to Jean-Paul could do anything to control Jean-Paul's violence, he'd do it in a heartbeat. regardless of his feelings or lack thereof for Jean-Paul. which is very fun for fucked up porn, but as a longterm relationship, i think eventually it wouldn't work out. Bruce comes back and Tim deals with the emotional consequences of being with Jean-Paul sexually. still very fun as a fucked up thing Tim has to live with for the rest of his life.

for a serious relationship, i think it makes the most sense it happens afterward. i like the idea of Tim checking up on Jean-Paul after Bruce comes back (during Batman: Prodigal Tim believes Jean-Paul's innocence regarding a recent crime even when Dick doesn't, so there's some kind of faith Tim has in Jean-Paul) just to make sure he's okay. once Jean-Paul is back on his feet, the visits peter out and stop entirely. they work together now that he's Azrael, sure, but it's not the same as Tim coming over with hot soup to play a card game and ask how Jean-Paul is doing. and i think Jean-Paul misses it. i *love* the idea of Jean-Paul's Catholic guilt manifesting around sexuality, especially if he's not only attracted to a man but a teenager, it'd fuck him up. him liking Tim since they met but being unable to face those feelings. no matter how much he prays and clears his mind, he can't get them to go away. and unlike his violent tendencies, he can't blame these feelings on the Azrael personality. i like his love for Tim to be a soft, innocent thing. his sexual attraction for Tim is quite violent and possessive, but his love? that's all gentle. it's such a dichotomy of Jean-Paul wanting to ravage Tim but also just hold him. i love ships that are sexually feral but desperately soft at the same time, especially when it's born out of trauma bc Jean-Paul doesn't understand how relationships work.

given how much i love Sword of Azrael (2022), i would *love* to write JeanTim that takes place after that arc, and after Jean-Paul sort of has this spiritual rebirth, being an angel of mercy instead of an angel of vengeance. because no matter how much Jean-Paul has apologized and made up for what he did as Batman, especially to Tim, that guilt has clung to him for years. and so i think after that arc, with a more stable sense of identity, him going to Tim to just properly talk about it would be so good. especially because now, Tim's not some teenage boy. he's taller, broader, holds himself higher. it's impossible to deny how much he's changed and grown since he and Jean-Paul last *really* spoke. and all those feelings Jean-Paul had for a young teenager, all those gentle visits that came after, just come rushing back to him. and he's stumbling over his words trying to give an honest apology and just talk about everything he's been through but the words won't come out and he feels so selfish talking about himself and not asking about TIm. so he asks how Tim has been while they drink tea and just go on and on for hours.

and then i think, when it's getting dark out, Jean-Paul awkwardly says he's going to leave and Tim would just. offer to let him stay the night. being very clear what he's implying. and Jean-Paul is *mortified* bc he never realized his feelings would've been obvious to *Tim* of all people, a well-trained detective. i think it'd take a lot of coaxing, with Tim insisting that he wants this. maybe even slightly dubcon, with Tim dragging Jean-Paul to bed. not bc he wants to force Jean-Paul, but bc he knows Jean-Paul will never let himself have what he wants, especially when he's afraid of hurting people. but Tim always gets what he wants so <3 he and Jean-Paul sleep together and start a weird, shaky relationship

i think it's particularly funny if Tim doesn't explain it to anyone. he's just dating Jean-Paul now and daring anyone to question him. he *could* hide it, and he probably should, but he knows he won't get away with hiding for long anyway. it'd be a very slow relationship that's one half very sweet and one half absolutely unhealthy and unhinged because of all of their complicated history. but Tim just leans into it and if anything, enables how weird Jean-Paul can be able religion. religious kink and blasphemy dialed up to the max.

anyway i just think there's so many ways they could get together in varying degrees of fucked up and it makes it so fun. this is *the* peak Batman/Robin ship to me and i won't be convinced otherwise. it's all of Tim's need to fix Batman thrown into a man who should've never been Batman. it's Jean-Pauls religious guilt over being infatuated with a teenager and pushing him away because of it. it's so good.

[lizz-crimson]

So No Head? (Shinnok's Head X Reader Part 3)

We back!

Summary: Shinnok spirals as he realizes he actually does things for you, even when you don't ask.

Tags/Warnings: Cursing, knife wound, Deliberate decapitation, Shinnok spiraling, Netflix, grocery shopping, Two Johnny Cages oh god, goofiness, Shinnok eats a lot, gender neutral pronouns (please let me know if there's any mistakes!)

Words: 2149

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

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It was an odd thing. To see a once powerful Elder God scarf down so much food. Apparently, losing a chunk of his power had made Shinnok's apatite skyrocket. As he savored every bite of cheap, frozen eggrolls, you hoped he didn't mind they'd come from the main back of your freezer. He'd eaten you out of house and home, and it had only been a couple days since he regained his body.

As you finished up your own meal, you asked," You get enough to eat?"

Shinnok, with a mouth full of eggroll, nodded. You nodded in turn, sitting back in your chair with a sigh. Your fridge was empty, as were your cabinets. All except for a small container of cinnamon, which Shinnok practically hissed at once he tried some.

Besides the food, Shinnok had behaved okay. He slept on the couch, quite a bit more entertained now that he could scroll through Netflix himself. You two argued over what to watch now and again, but you both ultimately settled on animal documentaries each time. It was hard to find the fallen Elder God intimidating when he was so enthralled in lion pride dynamics.

"Y/n, what are you making for dinner?" Shinnok asked.

You huffed, sitting up. Shinnok's bottomless stomach was slowly killing you. And considering he ate a whole cake, it was probably doing the same to him.

"Water soup," you replied curtly. Shinnok raised a finger, about to ask, but you cut him off with your hand. "You've eaten everything. There is no more food."

"Lies. I know you must have something."

"I don't."

"Then what will I eat?"

"We. And nothing." You push yourself up and out of your chair and start doing the dishes, taking Shinnok's empty plate. Shinnok sputtered as if your lack of food was a malicious joke. You again raise your hand, splashing him with a bit of soapy water. "There is no more food. I'll buy more tomorrow."

Shinnok groaned. He used to be all powerful, feared, and worshiped. Now he had to conform to a mortal's schedule. "Fine, I will accompany you," he huffed. If he was made to wait for his meals, then he'd at least get to pick what he wanted.

"Yeah, that's a hard no," you said.

"What? Why?" Shinnok asked, his voice daring to grow angry when he looked like a hellish priest.

"No offense, Shinnok, but not even Wal-Mart would let you inside the building," you replied, now drying the dishes. "I'll go by myself. I'm sure I'll be back with something you'll like." He'd eaten everything else; no doubt he'd eat whatever she'd bring home.

Shinnok pushed himself up from his chair, his hands going behind his back. "Bah.." he grunted, then sat on the couch. You rolled your eyes and started putting the dishes away. He was a whiny sonofabitch. Still, you two tolerated each other.

Shinnok wasn't accustomed to all this, and even with his body back, he couldn't help but feel frustrated. Damned Quan-Chi for taking his throne like that. He ought to just kill him himself. Even so, as he looked your way, he stared. You'd become so… normal to him. Even though you went against literally everything he originally stood for. He didn't mind waking up to the loud music you played while you took your morning shower. He didn't mind watching the apartment while you were at work. He didn't mind 'earning his keep' by doing chores. He'd become some kind of well-treated servant. Some butler. Some… what was that one anime called?

He quickly scrolled through the shows he'd watched on Netflix, and the anime he was thinking of came into view. Ah, yes, househusband; that was the word.

As the anime played automatically, Shinnok's brain seemed to let the word sink in. Particularly the husband bit. He glued his gaze to the TV, praying to himself that the warmth on his face was from embarrassment and nothing more. Maybe talking to you had damaged his brain, as he thought would happen originally.

Suddenly, your body landed beside his. "Is that 'The Way of The Househusband?' Move it; I wanna watch!" you said, nudging Shinnok aside with your hip. The fallen Elder God sputtered and nearly jumped to the opposite end of the couch.

"Don't just-!" He was cut off by a Coke being shoved into his hands.

"Found one for you," you said, your eyes on the TV.

Shinnok's nose curled. He snapped his head back to the TV, about to open the can, but paused.

"You didn't shake this, did you?" he asked.

"I might have."

The next morning, you were at the grocery store as promised, list in hand and mailbag on your shoulder. You'd started using it as a plain old purse after Shinnok got his body back. Since he was no longer a head, you figured it could be of better use that way.

Which is probably why you didn't notice the familiar weight in the bag.

"[Y/n], are we at the store yet?"

"Oh my god!" you yelped. You frantically open the bag and see Shinnok's re-decapitated head looking back at you. "I-what-are you serious?!"

"Shhh!" Shinnok shushed you. "Someone could hear!"

You were appalled. Quickly, you covered Shinnok up and dashed into the bathrooms. You're quick to lock a toilet stall behind you.

"What the fuck?" you ask, pulling Shinnok out of your bag. He looked just like he did before he got his body back.

"What?" Shinnok asked, not understanding your confusion.

"Where's your body?" you asked through gritted teeth, prying anybody else in the bathroom just thought you were high or something.

"Back at the apartment," he replied similarly.

"What the fuck do you mean 'back at the apartment'?" you laugh out of shock.

Meanwhile, a beheaded Shinnok lay limp on your couch, covered completely by a blanket. You just thought he'd been sleeping..

Shuttering at the thought, you placed Shinnok back in your bag.

"Let's just… Lets just get this over with…"

During your shopping, Shinnok bombarded you with many questions about all the different foodstuffs he spotted while peeking out of the mailbag. Luckily, it was early, so there weren't many people in the store yet. You tried to make the shopping trip go by as quickly as possible, and any time you spoke to Shinnok, you put your finger to your ear as if speaking via Bluetooth call.

You groaned as you looked at the prices of all the fresh produce. Prices had gone up lately, and you had no interest in paying five dollars for a head of lettuce. You pushed your cart on by.

"I thought vegetables were important for you humans?" Shinnok said, raising a brow.

"They are, but the price is awful, so we'll wait for a sale," you said. "I oughta just grow my own at this point."

"Why don't you?"

You sigh. "We don't live in the countryside, Shinnok. Don't you know how much space you need to make a garden?"

"Then move there?"

You caught the attention of a few staff members of the store when you straight-up belly laughed. You were quick to shut up and push your cart along. You lowered your head, whispering.

"Believe me, if I had the option to, I'd be deep in the Appalachian Mountains by now. I'd rather deal with cryptids than New York as a whole."

You spent the rest of the shopping trip explaining what cryptids were to Shinnok.

Later, you're carrying two mountains of groceries to your apartment door. When you finally unlock the door and push it open with your forehead, you were frozen in place as Shinnok's body hung limply off the couch. The blanket that had been concealing him had fallen to the floor. You close the door behind you quickly, making sure nobody sees. You fling your bag onto the couch, with Shinnok groaning in displeasure as he rolls out.

"I assume you can attach yourself back, right?" you asked, hands on your hips.

"Yes, yes.." Shinnok rolled his eyes. "Come. I'll need your aid."

You nodded and picked Shinnok's head up. "Now what?"

"Just hover my head over the stump of my body, and I'll reattach," he instructed.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you set Shinnok's body up a bit, then hover his head over the stump of his neck. At least he hadn't bled all over your floor..

A red glow appeared between Shinnok's two body parts and began to swirl around, engulfing both his head and his neck stump. You closed your eyes when the light blinded you. When it died down,… Well, when it died down, you were still holding Shinnok's face, attached to his body once more.

The two of you kind of just.. looked at each other for a bit. Shinnok, feeling a rather uncomfortable sensation in his chest, broke the silence when he couldn't take it anymore.

"You can let go now."

"Right, sorry!" You snatched your hands away. Shinnok stands along with you. Both of you kept your heads turned away, as you do. Luckily, your gaze fell to the mountains of groceries, and you used that to transition away from this awkward situation. "Come on, let's put these away," you said.

Shinnok grunted curtly and began helping you put all the food away.

Shinnok couldn't help but look back at you, sneaking glances. You had been good to him. Something he didn't deserve in the slightest. And as he put the spices in the order you told him to, arranged the frozen foods in the freezer, and helped you cut up pork for dinner,… he couldn't help but feel like he wasn't doing enough.

He hated that feeling. Why? Why did he want to do something for you, his jailer? Why had he still been teaching you dark magic? Why had he not returned to the Neatherrealm and overthrown Quan Chi? Why did he want to sit next to you on the couch? Why does his fucking chest hurt?

"OW!"

"Shinnok?" Your head snapped in his direction. He'd been cleaning the dishes. It was odd, as you hadn't even asked that time. The bit of blood on his palm and the kitchen knife on the floor alerted you, and you went over to him.

"I'm fine," Shinnok said. He was about to put his hand away, but your own hand took it before he could. He froze.

"Always do knives by themselves when doing dishes, okay?" you said, taking a mini-med kit from the counter and dressing his wound.

There it was—that sensation in his chest again. You bandaged his hand so skillfully. You'd done this before, clearly. Likely to yourself. Stupid mortal. Stupid mortal, with your gentle hands and good food. Wretched mortal for the kindness. Abhorrent mortal for the.. the.. well, everything!

"…Right," he replied.

That night, Shinnok lay on the couch. You'd long been asleep. You had work tomorrow, after all. Shinnok already agreed to vacuum the apartment while you were gone.

Damn it all. He wasn't helping himself by doing all these things for you. He felt like it wasn't enough, which he hated.

After another hour of spiraling down a tunnel of why, how, when, and curse words, he came to the decision that he would need to do something else for you. Something other than doing dishes or helping cook. He needed something big, something that would sate his desire to just do things for you.

You'd left your phone on the kitchen counter. Shinnok had a pretty good idea of how to use it. It turns out Netflix can teach an old god new tricks. Now… where was he?

Chats: Two Johnny's, One [Y/n]

[Y/N]: Johnny Cage.

Annoying Johnny: Yo, [Y/n]! Dude, you will not believe the hottie I have in my bed right now! Wanna pic?

[Y/N]: This is Shinnok. I have no interest in your hottie. I need something that requires your wealth.

Old Man Johnny: Woah, what? What the hell are you doing with [Y/N]'s phone?

[Y/n]: Why are there two of you?

Old Man Johnny: Long story now what the hell do you want?

Annoying Johnny: Chill out, old me! Clearly Shinnok saw my new movie on Netflix and wants in on the next one!

[Y/n]: No. That film was horrendous. I demand you both listen to my words!

Shinnok growled at the phone screen. Two Johnny Cages… What was his mother thinking?

He jolted when the phone began to buzz in his hand. He quickly tapped the green symbol and put the phone near his ear, like he'd seen in the movies.

Johnny Cage, the older one, spoke.

"What the hell are you planning?"

"Something for [Y/n]."

There was a pause on the other line.

"For [Y/n]?" Johnny asked.

"Yes. For them," Shinnok replied.

Johnny rubbed his temples.

"Okay. Hit me."

---

Shinnok: ew feelings *barf emoji*

Heyo, hoped you liked this part! I plan on one more part to this so stay tuned! Also this story is now on my AO3 account! The link is on my pinned post! This part will be added there soon!

These vine reference titles are getting outta head *bu-dum-tis*