#like i’ll do dishes & laundry & cook & that’s probably it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariposa-writes · 8 months

Text

Tears of Joy - Part 2

Pairing: Captain John Price x wife!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Overview: You've had your baby and the rest of the team comes to visit.

CW: pregnancy, (please let me know if I need to add anything

Author's Note: Only one person asked for this (@http-paprika), and it only would've taken 0 people lol. But in all seriousness thank you so much for all the love on the first part. PLEASE REBLOG, COMMENT AND LIKE!

part 1

Being pregnant wasn’t glamorous by any means. Nothing fit, you could barely put your own shoes on, and let’s not even talk about the weird cravings you had. Some were good some were not, but you would go through it all over and over again to experience holding your child for the first time.

Words couldn’t explain what you were feeling, as you watched your husband John hold your newborn son. You had been sleeping, as John watched the miracle the two of you had created. He didn’t realize you were awake, too busy doting over the adorable bundle of joy in his arms.

“Knock Knock” Johnny aka Soap whisper yelled as he opened the door to your hospital room. Johnny’s eyes landed on you first, as you nodded letting him know it was okay for him to enter.

Simon and Kyle trailed in right behind Johnny. They all three came over, giving you a hug and kiss congratulating you on your new baby. All of these boys had been to your home, they were a part of your family. They’d each eaten meals you cooked, stayed in the guest room you prepared, and thanked you when you washed their war stained clothes.

John, handed you your newborn son as he hugged and shook hands with his team. “Can I hold the lad?” Soap questioned, inching closer to you.

“Of course.” You helped situate the baby in his arms, before Soap turned to show Simon and Kyle. You smiled, watching how good Johnny interact with your son, he was a natural. After a few minutes he handed him off to Kyle, who was slightly less of a natural but still succeed in his own way.

“Simon, do you want to hold him?” You asked, noting how Simon was quietly observing but making no move to hold him.

“I don’t think I’d be good at it.” Simon omitted sheepishly. It was interesting to watch Simon, someone that seemed to be good at everything be worried about holding a baby. You waved your hand, “Nonsense, you’ll be fine. I’ll help you.”

You made a move to get out of bed and within two seconds your husband was by your side. “You’re supposed to be resting.” He commented, earning a death glare from you one similar to when he forgot to do the dishes after you’d already asked him three times.

“Honey, I love you but I’ve been in this bed for over 24hrs only getting up to pee and shower. If you don’t let me out of this bed I’m going to end up stabbing something and that something is probably going to be you.” John’s lips flattened, clearly wanting to argue but also know that you meant well on your threats.

He’d learned that after your first 3 months of being married, when you’d you told him you’d throw something at him if he didn’t finish the laundry by the time you got home for work. Safe to say, that the laundry was still sitting in the washer, starting to smell like mildew when you got home.

You dropped your purse on the couch when John had walked into the living room, grabbing the first thing you saw. Chucking the remote at his head, before he even looked up from his phone.

It hit him right in the forehead, giving him a pretty good cut. “Ow, what the hell was that for?” He questioned, still not processing what had happened.

You glared at him, “I told you to finish the laundry.”

“I forgot.”

“You have been forgetting for the past two days and now I’m going to have to wash them again. Plus I warned you, about what would happen.”

“I thought you were joking.” He rubbed where the remote had hit him and learned to always take your threats seriously after that.

“Fine, but don’t over do it.” He moved, letting you out of the bed as you made your way over to Simon. You situated his arms before taking your son from Kyle and getting ready to place him in Simons arms.

“My mask if going to scare him, he’s going to cry.” You shushed Simon, gently setting your son in his arms making slight adjustments to Simon.

You chuckled, noting how tense Simon was. “Simon, you’re going to have to learn how to hold him considering we want you to be his godfather.” Simon looked up at you with wide eyes and a suddenly dry mouth. You turned to Kyle and Johnny. “Actually we want all three of you to be his godfathers. We tried to choose, but-”

Johnny and Kyle cut you off, already accepting your offer. The both hugged you as you thanked them, Simon had been quiet. You turned to him nervously, “Simon,” You placed a hand on his arm. “It’s okay if you want to say no, I won’t be m-“

“I’ll do it.” Simon loved you like a mother, or something along those lines. He wasn’t sure how to exactly explain it, but you’d opened your home to him many times throughout the years of him and John working together. You’d made him tea, when he would show up in the middle of the night and breakfast when he woke. You would listen as he talked to you, always finding it easy to open up to you. Well open up as much as he could, which wasn’t much but the little he did open up was a lot for him.

He liked you cause you were patient and caring. When Price had broken the news to the team that you were pregnant, Simon already knew that you’d make a great mother. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I’m sure” You smiled, giving him a hug.

“So, we’ve all been waiting. What’s that lass’ name?” Soap questioned. As he took the baby back from Simon

You looked at John, “Wesley Jacob Price.” He announced, as your eye’s meet Simons. His eyes glossing over.

You whispered to him, “I hope that’s okay. The papers haven’t been sighed, so I can still change it.” Simon didn’t answer, just wrapping you in a bone crushing hug. Whisper a quiet ‘thank you’ in your ear and a ‘it’s perfect.

You knew you were one of the select few he’d opened up to about his family and what happened to them.

This right here, was your family. You would do anything for them and you knew they would do the same for you.

When you’d married Price he’d warned you about the craziness of his life and how he could be gone for months at a time, he made sure to point out all the negative so you knew what you were getting into.

But he never pointed out any of the positives. He didn’t mention Simon, Johnny, and Kyle. He didn’t mention how these boys would become your family and people you cared for very deeply. He didn’t mention the board games you’d play with Johnny when he couldn’t sleep or the books Kyle and you would trade in your two person book club, or the different amount of tea flavors you would try with Simon.

All of these things outweighed the negatives.

This moment was worth going months with out contacting your husband, was worth the lonely nights, all the negative tests, and all the tears. All the hardships were worth it. You wouldn’t be here, standing in your tiny hospital room watching 4 giant killing machines handle your baby with such care and gentleness.

675 notes · View notes

specialagentlokitty · 10 months

Text

Hotch x reader - as slow as you need

heyyaa, could you maybe do a Hotch x reader where reader flinches?? how you wanna fill it in is completely up to you!! - Anon💜

TW: mentions of abusive ex

When Aaron began dating you, you hadn’t told him much about your past relationships, all you told him was that they didn’t last too long aside from one.

That’s all you told him.

You didn’t think you would have to tell him anymore than that until tonight.

Today had been a bad day for you, a really bad day, you were on edge constantly and you were trying to hide it, and so far you were doing well.

That was until you dropped a bowl in the kitchen when you and Aaron were making dinner and you stared down at the floor in horror.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked.

You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I’ll pick it up!”

Quickly you crouched down and began to gather the bits of the broken bowl.

Hotch took a moment to process what you had said.

“Hey you don’t have to apologise it was an accident, come in I’ll get the broom.”

You shook your head at him, shaky hands picking up the pieces.

“Hey, hey, you’re going to hurt yourself stop.”

Aaron reached out to stop you, and the violent flinch of your hands and head came.

Slowly he pulled his hands back and you froze in place again.

You were breathing heavily, your finger was bleeding slightly.

Aaron knew immediately what was going on, as a profiler he was ashamed he hadn’t noticed this before.

But he knew straight away what was going on, and he had a good hunch on what the reason behind this was.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” he whispered.

You slowly stood up and binned the broken bowl, and you looked at him.

“I just… I need some time..”

With that you rushed away and he gave you the space you needed, he finished cooking and put it all in the oven, he cleaned the dishes and put some laundry on.

It had been just over an hour and he walked over to the bedroom door and knocked.

“Can I come in sweetheart?” He asked softly.

“Yeah…”

He opened the door and stayed by the doorframe.

You were sat on the side of the bed, staring at the floor.

“I’m sorry…”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” He said gently.

You looked up at him and he gestured to the bed and you nodded.

Aaron walked over, sitting near you but not next to you to give you some space and he rested a hand on his knee.

“I want you to know I would never hurt you okay? Never.”

“I know.. I know.. it’s just..”

You sighed.

“I guess I probably should’ve told before we started dating…” you mumbled.

Aaron waited patiently waited for you to carry on talking, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.

“My uh.. my ex didn’t take to well to me dropping things.. he um..”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“He used to hit me..”

Aaron nodded his head a little, taking a small breath.

“And I know you wouldn’t…”

“You can’t shake the fear though.”

You nodded a little.

“As long as you know I’d never hurt you that’s okay. I’ll give you all the space you need, and do whatever you need me to do when you feel like this okay?”

You nodded your head and wiped the backs of your hands along your eyes to clear your tears.

“Thank you Aaron..”

He smiled and you both sat there for a few moments before you stood up and held your arms out.

Aaron smiled, standing up he did the same and you walked over, gently hugging and he softly hugged you back

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron Hotchner imagine #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #Hotch imagine

786 notes · View notes

robthegoodfellow · 7 months

Text

Let's Hear It for the Boy

Praise Kink for Day 3 of @harringrovekinktober

(roommates, kink experimentation, billy is a good boy, nsfw)

Steve felt like a real asshole when Robin asked out of the blue one day, maybe a month after he and Billy became roommates, if Billy was paying part of his rent in labor. Shave some off if he agreed to be your housekeeper? And, at Steve’s incredulous bafflement, had clarified: Every time I’m over he’s cooking or doing laundry or—cleaning shit! To his horror, a highlight reel started up in his mind, a montage of Billy doing all those chores and more, and worse, Steve realized he’d contributed approximately nothing to the daily maintenance of their shared living space. Steve! Robin had scolded, correctly interpreting his guilty grimace.

So he’d promised to talk to Billy about it—assure him that keeping the place sparkling was in no way required or expected or—or if that was just how he preferred to live, then he’d promise to do his fair share from now on. Only, bringing it up over pizza and beer, a basketball game on TV, had produced an unexpected reaction. Billy… kinda… froze? Went bug-eyed, like Steve had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. He looked embarrassed.

“Man, it’s fine,” Steve said, tripping over himself to explain—put him at ease. “I really don’t care either way. I just wanted to check and make sure you knew I wasn’t gonna, like—kick you out if you let up on the Cinderella routine.”

Billy flushed more, beet red, and Steve resisted smacking himself in the face. He was fucking this up so bad.

“I mean—”

“I don’t mind,” Billy mumbled, avoiding Steve’s eye as he reached for his beer. “I like it.”

“Okay,” Steve said, over the top encouraging. “Great. Well, I’ll at least pitch in more—”

“You don’t have to do that.” Billy’s throat worked, gulping, plush lips pursed on the can. Steve blinked, shook his head, tuned back in to catch the muttered aside, blue gaze locked on the Michelob commercial. “It’s all good. Nothing has to change.”

Why the hell was he being so weird about this? Did he think Steve couldn’t chip in? Pull his own weight?

“Just because I grew up with a nanny doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do stuff. Vacuum and dishes and—”

Billy grunted, annoyed, throwing his shoulders back to wedge himself into the couch, a mulish slouch. “Just drop it, will ya? I like things how they are, so what’s the fucking problem?”

“All right, jeez,” Steve cried, holding up his hands. “Touchy.”

They were quiet, both ticked, but the kind that would drain away by halftime. Except—he felt shitty just leaving it like this, having semi-acknowledged that Billy was acting like his maid.

“Is there anything I can do?” Steve asked, his tone deliberately mild, not looking away from the freethrow swishing on screen. “That you don’t like?”

No explosion—good sign. After a long, loaded pause, Billy sighed. “Take out the trash.”

“Got it,” Steve said. And let it go.

But from then on, he kept watch, determined to figure out the source of the weirdness. Almost positive it wasn’t a control freak thing or a neat freak thing—it wasn’t like the apartment was pristine. It was more that… everyday, Billy had done something obvious enough that Steve commented on it—always had. Nothing major, just Oh, hey—you got that stain out of the carpet or Holy shit, it smells so good—what is that? or How’d you unclog that drain? Wasn’t like he thanked Billy, though he probably should have been—although maybe Billy didn’t want him to make a big deal out of it?—but he’d always notice and say something admiring because Billy was good at stuff. Good at so much stuff.

He started taking out the trash, and Billy never let on that he noticed, but Steve thought he did. And he kept up the compliments whenever Billy did something nice, since that hadn’t been explicitly forbidden. But since he was paying more attention now, he—noticed some things. Only when he was pretending to look elsewhere, monitoring Billy in his periphery or in the reflection of the window or decorative mirrors his mom had foisted on him. He noticed that, those times, Billy sort of… ducked his head, hiding a grin that bordered on… bashful? And his shoulders bowed a bit, like he was—curling in on himself. Like—in delight?

Like—he secretly really liked it? When Steve noticed he’d done something nice? When Steve said something nice about it?

So… he decided to test it. Nothing too overbearing or obvious, just—instead of merely noticing, he was sure to compliment. Because why not, if Billy liked it and still wouldn’t let Steve lift a finger except on garbage day?

Good became his go-to. This tastes so good. That looks so good. Good, good, good.

Which is when it clicked for him—that Billy didn’t do chores and stuff because he liked the chores. But because… he liked Steve’s reaction?

And—that would explain his weirdness. Why he didn’t want to talk about it. Like maybe he was worried Steve would think Billy liked being his bitch or something—Steve winced, anticipating the whack from the Robin who lived in his head—not that Steve thought of him that way.

…Though if he didn’t mind Steve thinking of him that way—or even liked it, then…

Well, Steve didn’t—dislike that. Like the general concept. Held a certain—

Anyway, in the interest of further—ah, testing, Steve mentioned, casually, on his way to work one morning, “I’ve been craving that pasta salad you made.”

Billy cut him a glance over his coffee where he was hunched at the kitchen table. Grunted, and Steve quirked a grin, tossed him a salute goodbye. It wasn’t even a lie—the pasta thing—he’d been salivating at the memory. This version with Italian dressing instead of mayo, with olives and stuff.

Lo, late that afternoon, when he got back, there was a big Tupperware of it in the fridge. Billy wandered in halfway through his second helping. They paused, wide-eyed at the sudden charge buzzing in the air, and Steve’s stomach clenched.

“It’s—good,” he managed, hands suddenly clammy around his fork and bowl. Billy was staring at Steve’s hands, held awkwardly aloft where he leaned on the counter. The stare was strangely heavy—hooded lids. Steve cleared his throat. “You—did good.”

Billy’s cheeks were as flushed as that day on the couch, watching basketball, insisting he liked—

Abruptly aware his boner was starting to tent his shorts, Steve turned to face the counter, ducking to shovel more pasta in his idiot mouth. Heard Billy go to the cabinet, fetch a glass. Fill it. Walk back out.

Heaving an unwinding breath, Steve set down the bowl, let his elbows bear the weight of this latest sexual awakening.

So that was a thing, apparently—and for Billy, too, potentially. Probably. Because, without quite meaning to, they fell into this little routine where, before Steve left for work, he’d pause, and Billy would look up from his coffee, and Steve would mention something—a rental movie he wanted to see, or a sale at the liquor store, or if Billy would mind throwing Steve’s whites in with his so he’d have a shirt to wear to this meeting later in the week…

And the VHS would be waiting on the counter. And a six-pack would be waiting in the fridge. And his shirt would be washed and ironed and waiting in his closet. And everytime Billy would be lingering nearby, not quite meeting his eyes, and Steve’s pulse would pound even though technically there was nothing sexy about an ironed shirt, and Steve would say Good. You did good.

Billy would sometimes clench his fist, when Steve said it. Or squirm in his seat a bit. Or swallow, throat bobbing. Color rising. And the sight hit Steve like a load of bricks. A load of bricks to the head.

It was the weirdest game of gay chicken—scrambling to find mundane tasks for Billy to complete for the prize of a pat on the back, when all Steve wanted, and he bet Billy felt similarly, was to order Billy to his knees.

He thought about it whenever they were on the couch watching TV, whenever they were eating in the kitchen or drinking on the balcony or passing each other outside the bathroom in the morning.

So he tested further. Came home and went to see if Billy had done it—and there he was, standing by Steve’s bed. The neatly made bed.

Steve’s heart was rabbiting out of his chest, too on the fritz to form words, and his feet weren’t much better, charting a crooked, clumsy course until they were toe to toe, Billy’s gaze downcast, his lips parted, breaths shallow.

He didn’t know whether it’d sound stupid if he said it out loud, what he’d been wanting to say for days—whether Billy wanted to hear, or would consider it a step too far.

They’d come this far, though. Steve wet his lips, took a calming breath, and Billy seemed to brace for it. “Good,” Steve said, and it came out breathy. “Good boy.”

Billy curled—did that thing where he ducked, hunching around something invisible—and the sound punched out of him, this pained gasp. Steve’s hands moved on their own, reaching to cradle Billy’s head, step close to whisper in his ear, his brow at Steve’s shoulder: “Good? Is this good?” Felt more than saw him nodding. “You want to be good for me?”

“Fuck,” Billy whispered—bit wheezing. Wet. “Fuck.”

“What do you want?” Steve asked, fumbling at his heated neck. “What do you—?”

“Be good.” It was mumbled, cringing. “Wanna be good.” A shaky inhale. “Make you feel good.”

Steve’s blood was roaring everywhere but his brain—would’ve fallen over if he weren’t clutching Billy. “Want that, too.”

He heard a thready laugh, and Billy straightened, leaning back into his hold, face tipped, lidded gaze on Steve’s chin. “So?”

So what’ll it be?

Buying himself time to gather his wits, some composure lest he combust, Steve tilted his head, assessing. Adjusting his hold, ran a thumb across Billy’s lower lip, firm enough to pull at the skin. “Want this.” Another swipe, exposing teeth, his curving tongue. “Make me feel good with this.”

A tug at his belt, and Billy was nodding, making short work of the button and zip—movements quick and precise. He sank, kneeling at Steve’s feet, tugging the pants to hang at midthigh, and finally looked up.

Steve swept blond curls off his forehead. “Like you like this.”

Billy stared, eyes gleaming. Seemed to be—waiting.

“So good like this,” Steve corrected. “Now show me how good.”

Swaying, Billy buried his face in Steve’s briefs, nosing him through straining cotton, and huffed hot air at the crown. Steve compulsively gripped fistfuls of hair, still using Billy’s ears as handlebars, and resolved not to let go—to let Billy show him.

And, boy, did he. Laved at his dick until the fabric was soaked, the white gone translucent—white gone flushed pink, twitching under kitten licks—and Steve was on the verge of begging when a pull at his waistband freed his cock, bobbing only a sec before swallowed in Billy’s grip, fed into his greedy mouth.

Steve’s entire vocabulary had been reduced to one word, babbled at the ceiling behind closed lids: good, good, good, only sometimes it came out guh, guh, guh. One hand cupped the back of Billy’s head, and it was when his hips were on a steady grinding roll that he realized he’d caged Billy against him, locked the gulping heat around his cock as he plugged toward the peak.

Billy wasn’t struggling, though—his fingers biting into the meat of Steve’s ass, moaning so deep in his chest that Steve felt it more than heard it.

Steve grappled for a new word—close, close—but Billy didn’t stop, didn’t let up a second, and when Steve grunted his release, the throat worked around him still.

The moment Billy pulled off, lungs heaving, face ruby red and shining, Steve flopped to his knees, blindly reached for Billy, draping loose arms around his neck, his ribs, waiting for his own breaths to slow.

“Was it,” Billy asked, tight. “Was it—?”

“Good,” Steve said, huffing a laugh, coasting hands across the bellows of his back. “So good—you’re so good. Always so good for me.”

Billy burrowed his face into Steve’s throat, his collarbone, looping him in an uncertain hug. He was hard, pressed against where Steve’s clothes gaped open. Working a hand between them, Steve rubbed his palm along rigid heat.

“What do you want?” he asked, nuzzling the nest of blond. “Since you been so good?”

A shudder ran up the sloping spine. Steve smoothed his free hand down to Billy’s waist and back up, waiting.

“I—cleaned the shower,” Billy said, halting. “I could—show you, and—?”

Steve kissed his temple, quick, so helplessly fond. Overwhelmed.

“Good boy wants a wash?” Steve suggested, and tightened his arms when Billy tried to do his pillbug thing. “Be my good boy,” he said, hushed, nosing Billy’s flushed ear. “You want to?”

And Billy curled again, only this time around him. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

Now with added sequel: Let's Give the Boy a Hand

#harringrove #harringrovekinktober2k23 #roommates in love #roommates in ill-defined dom subby dynamic #billy wants the praise #and the dick #steve gives it

276 notes · View notes

sociopathicartist · 3 months

Text

More UT!Sans headcanons!

(these ones are romantic, meant to be during dating time.)

I’ve stated it before and I’ll stay it again, he is touch starved and most likely didn’t even realize he was until he just found himself unable to keep his arms off of you. i’ll elaborate more on the touches a bit further down, but i feel like he’d always want to have at-least one of his hands on you, even if simple like holding hands or his hand on your shoulder. i’m not really feeling like he’d be affectionate just because he’s touch starved, but rather that he would just be a bit disturbed to not be with your warm, soft skin. even just intertwining pinkies would comfort him. something that eases his mind and thoughts that after being alone for so long - you’re finally here with him.

i do also feel that he is (more of would become) very acts of service on the love language side. we know that he has to be able to cook and do basic household tasks since he assisted or fully raised papyrus, not to mention that papyrus wasn’t always doing cooking classes (and doesn’t even make edible food…) and would probably get prissy at the idea of eating at grillbys all the time for all 3 meals, so sans definitely had to cook somewhat. (sorry for that long elaboration). if you’ve had a long day at work he would definitely make you dinner. if you’re sick, guess what? he’ll make you soup. breakfast? no problem, he’ll willingly make it for you all the time just so that he can learn the way you like it. you’re doing the dishes? great. you wash them and he’ll dry.

he would just become very accustomed to acts of service once he’s dating you due to the fact that he would definitely self improve a bit (or a-lot) and would want to become accustomed to just doing things with you and helping, even if simple things like folding laundry by your side while you tell him about your day. to him, this wouldn’t just be some 40 minutes he spent doing chores with you, it would be 40 minutes of something he never got to have. the love and comfort he never got to experience. if papyrus ever chose to get a place of his own or wanted to stick around with you, i think sans would move in within a heartbeat. day to day life of being with you would become intoxicating, the one thing he wouldn’t mind reliving over and over again.

aside from his love languages, how does he like to feel loved?

again, physical touch. i know i established his love languages already (my interpretations, of course <3), and while i don’t think he’d care at all if you chose to show your love by giving him gifts, or praising and assuring him (he’d go nuts for that one), the relationship wouldn’t be very compatible without physical touch.

its just something i feel like he’d become addicted to, and i dont mean the physical affection from friends that he doesn’t really crave. he would crave only yours, the one of his lover. he’d look forward to little surprise smooches all over his skull, lipstick stains everywhere that he’d definitely brag about to his co-workers (he finally got bitches), and your hugs and cuddles throughout the day. he would become so in-love with it all, so in-love with you.

if you aren’t really a physical touch person, i feel like he’d be a bit more on the edge about dating you. not to say that you’re not compatible, because while not everyone is compatible (which is 100% okay), he is a fictional character and you can interpret his love language and demeanor any way you want. it’s just my own interpretation that physical touch would be something he’d seek from you, so there may not be a good chance anything romantic happens if you aren’t with that. if you do date and you’re not physically affectionate, he will try for you. he still loves you very much, more than himself, and would be willing to step down on the touch factor if you ask him, you are his lover after all.

he’d also feel very loved if you just thought about him. a very easy task, i know, but it would mean the world to him. if you offered to make him lunch before he goes to work then oh boy, you better believe that he’d show off what you made him to all his co-workers.

“today you guys, not one, but two whole juice boxes. orange you jealous?”

you get the gist. i’m not going to say it would be easy to love him, because he definitely has trauma and issues you’d both need to work on together to help him, but he’d feel loved in most ways you’d show him.

past traumas would be a bit of a slow burn with him.

so we know sans is depressed, definitely. while he’s not ‘i’m so sad and edgy my brother is dead and things keep repeating’ depressed IMO, he more so bottles up his feelings on his nihilism and stress that i worry one day he would just crumble under you. he doesn’t talk to anyone about his feelings, which papyrus does share this with us in the game. i think that his issues sleeping, his stress and other various things would build up the more he was around you, almost beginning to feel guilty for not opening up to you after you’ve started taking down your walls.

it would most likely be a night like many others, laying in bed intertwined in each others arms and talking until you both fell asleep, conversations about your day, how much you’d miss each other when one of you had to leave for work tomorrow, your future together, and he would just crumble down.

this is bold, i know. this is not something that would happen early on. over a year into the relationship minimum, if not more. after spilling his feelings and past traumas to you there wouldn’t really be any walls left from him. no more secrets or worries, just you and him.

he loooooves soft affections.

this one will be a bit shorter, but i wanted to drabble it in.

since he would like having his hands on you all the time i do like to imagine some of his favorites.

he’d love putting his hand on the small of your back to guide you. just in a gentle and calm manner, in no way is he ever physically rough with you with normal affection. he just likes to guide you sometimes, especially if you get sidetracked easy or like to wander around.

his hands would almost always be in your hair. short or long, he’d find hair enthralling. he’d like to brush it whenever you let him and just run his phalanges through it unconsciously anytime your head was in his range.

he would also do other simple things, like leaning over to buckle your seatbelt when you get in the car, tying your shoelaces if he sees they’re undone, tracing your figure while you sleep and grabbing you by your waist. all of the little affections he loves to give.

as for how he kisses ?

i’ve seen many variations on this.

i’ve seen a lot of authors (mostly wattpad… no hate though…) describe kissing him as though he has lips. im sorry, i 100% disagree.

his teeth (mouth ?) only even move from his permanent smile when he’s heavily injured, so the idea that they can just somehow kiss like lips is a tad bit bonkers. he’d honestly think you’d rule out kisses in general with him since he has no lips to kiss, but would be pleasantly surprised that you enjoyed the little bonks.

since he is just a bit of a flat teeth surface, his kisses don’t feel like lips, but rather warm and tingly magic thats a bit pleasurable and nice to the touch, very similar to the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. you’d probably get a bit of a high off of it if you kissed him enough. since monster motivation is about intent (such as with fighting), i don’t see why kissing and intimacy would be any different. the more he wants to kiss you the better the little mouth bumps on him would feel to you, not that it still wouldn’t feel like kissing a wall, though. he would enjoy to pepper you with little skeleton kisses, and would enjoy your soft kisses as well. i could definitely see him always egging you for just one more kiss before you get up and leave him to go somewhere. as for my thoughts on a tongue with kissing for him, that is a prompt idea for another headcanon list…

thank you for reading :) if there’s any requests my asks are open ! i do most of the well-known AU’s as well as classic undertale (ofcourse), along with platonic and romantic headcanons.

#undertale #undertale au #undertale alternate universe #sans #sans x reader #sans x you #sans headcanons #undertale headcanons #sans undertale #SAP

105 notes · View notes

angry-trashcan · 8 months

Text

Why Are You Here?!

Part two (First)

This has just turned into me putting my funny ideas into something. Very self indulgent and that's okay.

Warnings: Vulgar lyrics

1K WC This is the song that's mentioned in this.

These boys were getting on my damn nerves. They had been at my house for over a month now. And while it was fun, it was exhausting having that many people in my little house. The house was built for me and my dog for fuck’s sake. I don’t have the room to keep all of these people. I know it’s not their fault, I do. And I enjoy their company, through all of the complaining I’m doing. It’s just the lack of privacy and quiet time that was eating at me.

The younger ones seemed to have absolutely no concept of personal space or alone time. Legend once used the bathroom while I was in the shower. Wind would just barge into my room. Hyrule had gone through all of my cabinets and drawers at least twice. Wild knocked down my pride flag and drug it into the living room asking me why I had my country’s flag on my ceiling.

So yeah, I was a bit in need of alone time.

It finally happened when they decided to go ‘looking for a portal’ in the woods by the house. I declined every offer to go with them. Insisting they would find their way through the woods themselves.

“If you reach a really big road with a bunch of cars going fast you went too far! Turn around!” I called out to them before slamming the door to the finally empty house. I took a deep breath, before searching for the TV remote. I checked every single drawer and cabinet. And well, it was lost. One of them probably set it somewhere to never be found. I blew hair out of my face, going to my room and getting my headphones instead. I slipped them over my head and pulled out my phone. Spotify was opened and music was turned on as loud as it would go.

Looking back over the extremely destroyed house, I sighed and started picking up the strewn about blankets. Once they were sniffed and determined which needed to be washed (all of them of course), I piled them up and went to the dishes. Overflowing with caked on food from Wild’s cooking. While I appreciated the help cooking for ten people, the boy didn’t know how to clean up after himself. Something about the slate always cleaning his pot and the bowls for him. I just blamed him not remembering how to do it.

It took almost two hours to clean the house. The smell of bleach and incense fought in the air. It was still way too hot to even consider opening a window. I figured the chain still had a good hour or so before they got back. So, when I started dancing to the music, I didn’t think it mattered. This is my house and if I want to dance and sing loudly when I’m alone I’ll do it, dammit.

And then that song came on shuffle. The one that had been stuck in my head for weeks. It scratched just the right part of my brain. So, when I started belting the words out at top volume, it was well warrened. The full… effect of the lyrics not hitting me as they left my mouth.

“I don’t really talk like this I know, but this gotta real big OOP for sure!” I slammed the last cabinet closed with my hip as I danced to the song. My arms were over my head as I spun around to the music. I even did that one Tik-Tok dance, swinging my arms around as I spun around in a small circle. I put the song on repeat when it was over. May as well get my dose of it in while I can. Maybe it’ll get out of my head.

It kept replaying as I moved to my room to clean in there next. Door left open so I would notice if they got home. I moved Sage’s air mattress to the side of the room so I had the full floor. The dancing and singing never stopped, even when I was folding the laundry and putting it away. The chores were finally done a few replays later. Which meant full free time to sing the loudest I could and shake my ass as much as I could.

“He said he wanna take it to the room, let’s go! He ain’t gotta tell me what to do I know!” I closed my eyes, throwing my arms back over my head as I jumped around in a little circle. If only I had heard the front door open. “He like it when I bend it over and I arch my back!” And I did just that. “He tap me on my shoulders I said, ‘Yeah, I like that’!” If only I had heard the clearing of throats. “This pussy don’t purr, this pussy’ll bite back.” I even put my knee up like I was popping it out. “And that OOP so good, I sound like his hype man. Now that OOP got me doing all the nasty things I said I wouldn’t do!”

And by the gods. I opened my eyes at that line to see Sage, Time and Twilight staring at me. The rest standing outside the door, holding back snickers.

I slammed the bedroom door.

<><><><><><><><>

I came home from work the next day to everyone gathered around the living room TV. Sage putting something on it while Wild worked on dinner. I didn’t say anything other than a few hellos as I took a seat at the table. The uncomfortable situation got even more so when a familiar beat started on the TV. I looked over to Sage, slack jaw as he smiled. “It’s a good one. Gotta give you that.” Hyrule snickered on the couch with Sky.

I shook my head. “I’d love to see you dance and sing to it next.”

“Why? Cause you got the hots for me?”

I went to my room for the night.

Bonus: Me yawning and Sage saying, “What does that song say about yawning, again?”

#anyway #lu wild #lu legend #lu time #lu twilight #lu hyrule #lu wind #lu sage #lu sky #lu four #lu warriors #lu fanfiction #linked universe fanfic

26 notes · View notes

everybodyknows-everybodydies · 10 months

Text

Dear Ma,

I made it to Morrowind! Not the part where Mournhold is, but there’s lots of stuff to see and I can get there eventually. I hope you’re not too mad about me getting in trouble, I’m REALLY sorry. (Don’t tell Dexion I said I’m sorry though because I’m not sorry at him and I think probably he should get lit on fire more often to build character. I promise he didn’t even get hurt he’s just a big baby and a s’wit. You can tell him I said that part.)

I saw they have a courier’s office in the place they dropped me off but they said I have to deliver a package for them before I can send anything myself. I think that’s a weird rule to have but probably Llaalam just forgot to tell me that’s how the mail works here. I don’t think it’s drugs because it looks like pretty official Imperial business but they did tell me to be really secretive and discreet about it.

---

Don’t worry I’m not a drug runner!

---

I think maybe I gave drugs to that old man.

---

Ma,

They have guildhalls for the Mages Guild here too! I was going to tell them I haven’t gotten my recommendation letters from everywhere else, just the one in Chorrol, but the lady in charge here in Balmora was really nice and said I could help as an Associate! So I made a new friend and I’m helping her study mushrooms and flowers and stuff. There’s a lot of plants here we don’t have back home. I pressed one of the flowers we picked for you—I hope it stays nice in the mail. Ajira says this one’s called stoneflower. Do you think when I come home we could plant some in the garden?

Are you doing alright? Is someone helping you with the laundry and the dishes and the cooking? Is it someone nice? I hope it’s Helene. Remember you aren’t supposed to bend over because of your knees so don’t let her put the big pot under the sink. Ajira’s showing me how to use some of the plants we found to make this tingly salve that’s supposed to be good for joints, so when I come home I’ll make it for you.

---

It’s me again, Ma,

I haven’t been sleeping well because

---

I’m sleeping GREAT and you don’t need to worry at all about

---

I am getting the normal kind of sleep and food and they’re letting me stay here in the guildhall while I’m helping Ajira. The food isn’t as good as yours. I’m trying to get this soup recipe from them though because I think you’d really like it if we used some of the spices from the mudhopper stew. Ranis said I have to be higher rank to learn guild secrets (this is a VERY good soup) so tomorrow I’m going to see what she says I have to do to get promoted to Apprentice.

The old guy I delivered the package to says he needs help with something too, and I feel bad because he doesn’t seem like he has any friends, but learning about all the flora has been keeping me pretty busy. I think maybe I’ll ask Ajira if she’d come with me to see what he needs help with. I have to make sure he told the courier’s office that I gave him his package anyway so I can send your letters.

---

Dear Ma,

I know you said I probably wouldn’t ever be able to hear it but I think being closer to Black Marsh made something click? Sometimes I feel like somebody’s whispering even when I’m by myself

---

I miss you. I’m sorry again.

Love,

Your Hallie

#writing tag #Haldryn Elora #I don't do a lot of epistolary form so this was a fun exercise :')#there wasn't really a good early place to put a cut though for this one so the cutoff is weird lol sorry

39 notes · View notes

gothgirlmahi · 2 years

Text

Not A Day Goes By: Chapter One, 1936

Pairing: Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None for now, will update every chapter.

Chapter Summary: Steve Rogers is the love of your life, but neither of you know it yet.

Word Count: 3.3K

Masterlist: Coming Soon

Special thank you to @fictional-affairs for plotting with me over pre-serum Steve ideas and everyone else in the Smut Hub discord that inspired me to write this series.

November 17, 1936

You hadn’t really known much about Steve Rogers prior to his mother dying. He was your neighbor, the same age as you and you’d gone to high school together but had never talked much. Both of you were barely 18 by the time Sarah Rogers passed. Your own mother had gone the year before, so you could empathize with what he was going through. After your mother died, you could barely bring yourself to leave the house and you knew that Steve was probably feeling a similar way, despite the whole strong and silent demeanor he was trying to give off.

Even you could admit you’d been bothering the hell out of that poor man since his mother died last month. Nothing too bad, you just wanted to make sure he was fed and taking care of himself. You knew he had a laundry list of ailments and while he seemed to be managing well enough, you supposed that everyone needed a bit of help. God knows you needed help when your mother passed, but at least you had your older brother to lean on. Steve didn’t have any other family that you knew of.

You put on your jacket to walk the short distance to his door, with a dish holding part of the casserole you had made a little earlier. It was still was warm from the oven but not enough to burn you or him when you would hand it off.

When you knocked, Steve yelled out for you to hold on a moment. You adjusted and gripped the casserole dish firmly in your arms before the door came swinging open to reveal a rather flustered looking Steve Rogers. He looked a bit shocked to see you. You weren’t sure why, considering you’d been coming over damn near every other day for the past month.

“Sorry to bother you, Steve. I cooked supper and, well, Michael and I can’t eat all of this. So I thought I’d bring some over to my favorite neighbor.”

Steve gave you a smile before graciously taking the plate.

“That’s real nice of you. I appreciate you looking out for me, but you don’t have to cook for me every day.”

“Is my cooking that bad?”

“Oh, no! It’s just, you don’t need to go out of your way for me.”

You wrung your hands together nervously. You didn’t want to put him off with what you said next.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not trying to smother you. It’s just your ma was a real good woman and I know what it’s like to go through that. And you’re stubborn and don’t want anybody’s help just like Michael was and…Michael had me and I had him and you’re in there by yourself and I just want you to know I’m here. You know I’m not trying to throw pity at you because I hated when people did it to me. I just want you to know that you’re not alone and if you ever do want help, I’ll do whatever I can.”

“You shouldn’t be wasting your time on a punk like me.”

You crossed your arms and gave him a stern look.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my time, Steven. If I want to spend it bringing you supper ‘cause you don’t have the sense to feed yourself half the time, then I’ll do that.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at what you said. He nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.“

The sound of footsteps interrupted you all and the two of you turned around to see a familiar face. You recognized him as Steve’s friend that lived a couple blocks away. You remembered him from high school but he’d been a year older than you, so you hadn’t been too familiar with him. What you did know was that he had girls swooning over him left and right which you could only assume left him with the biggest head on the planet.

Bucky greeted both of you by name, leaving you a bit shocked that he even remembered yours. He stood beside you, leaning on the railing just outside of the door. You took his appearance as your cue to leave.

“Hi,” you said a bit dismissively before turning back to your neighbor, “Steve, I’m gonna head home before Michael gets back. Just knock or slide a note under the door if you need anything. And there’s a little rip in your jacket, maybe you’ll let me sew that up for you tomorrow, yeah?” You said all this as you were walking back to your door.

You turned back to see Steve nodding.

“I would really appreciate that. Have a good evening. Thank you for the food!” You gave him a wave before shutting yourself in your apartment.

Once you were gone, Bucky whistled. Steve fumbled with the dish in his hands before turning around and letting Bucky into his apartment.

“Wow,” Bucky said, plopping down on the old couch, “your neighbor is pretty. You should ask her out.”

Steve looked horrified at the prospect. He sat the dish you gave him down on the kitchen table before fixing his best friend with an unimpressed look.

“Absolutely not. She’s just being nice because of my ma. You’re probably more her type.”

Bucky scoffed.

“She didn’t even look in my direction. I might as well have blended in with the flower pot out there. She only had eyes for you, trust me. Isn’t she friends with Dot? We could all go out together. It’ll be fun.”

“Are you insane? I’m not asking her to go out. She never goes out.”

“And how do you know?”

“Because I never go out. My bedroom wall is against her living room. She just stays in and listens to records.”

“So she likes music. We can all go dancing.”

“We? So I can make a fool of myself? Forget it.”

“I’m just saying, no dame is bringing food over everyday just because she feels sorry for you.”

December 1, 1936

You did not like the cold. And wouldn’t you know, today was exceptionally freezing. Although your heater was on and working, it still didn’t seem to be doing much to cut through the frigid air. It was early, much earlier than you were used to being up on a weekend. Michael was still fast asleep and you could hear him snoring lightly from his room. Your mind was on something else, though. You’d heard a noise next door and just couldn’t get yourself back to sleep.

Your mind was on Steve. You heard him coughing.

You knew he got sick easily. It was no secret that he wasn't exactly the sturdiest fella around. He was practically deaf in one ear, asthmatic, had some sort of problem that made his spine bend a bit in the wrong direction and looked like a stiff breeze would take him down. You just wanted to check on him.

Wandering through your living room at six in the morning, you shivered in your robe as you listened through the wall. Invasive? Maybe. But you were concerned. And the walls were thin, which really wasn’t your fault.

Steve coughed a few more times, sounding like he was hacking up a lung. The poor thing. You’d have to go over there. Knowing him, he’d likely sit and stew in his illness for days on end before asking for help. Well, he certainly wouldn’t have to ask now.

You hustled to your kitchen, taking a couple ingredients from the pantry and the icebox. You’d make your neighbor a nice broth to drink, something that would soothe his throat and be easy on his stomach. And you’d bring over some tea. And maybe some crackers too just so he’d have something solid in his system.

By the time you had gathered all your wares into a basket and gone over to Steve’s door, it was a bit past 7 in the morning and the sun was just rising. You knocked and hoped he would answer.

A few seconds later, you heard a muffled and strained “hold on” followed by the sound of feet shuffling to the door, the clicking of locks, and finally the door opened.

Steve Rogers looked horrible and half dead, answering the door in his pajamas and looking the worse for wear. You nearly dropped your basket at the sight of him and had to fight the urge to bust in his apartment and turn it into an infirmary.

“Hi, Steve. I was up and you didn’t sound so good. So I brought you over a few things. If you don’t mind, could I come in?”

Steve’s face was flushed from whatever illness he had and as an apprehensive look took his features, you knew you might have to do some convincing.

“I appreciate all of this so much, but I don’t wanna get you sick,” Steve said, barely able to keep in a cough as he did so.

“Oh please, you know I work at the pharmacy, right? I’ve got a sturdy constitution. I’ve seen much worse. I’ve got some things for you, let me at least set them out.”

Steve nodded and moved aside so you could come in.

You had only been in Steve’s apartment a handful of times. From what you could see, it was laid out similar to your own. The front room was a nicely sized living space with the kitchen off to the back. To the left were two bedrooms on either side of a hallway with a bathroom beside the smaller room. As you were led through the apartment, you realized Steve’s room appeared to be the smaller room, as the door was open and you could see a bundle of blankets haphazardly thrown on a bed. You could only assume the other bedroom had been Sarah’s. The door was closed, so you couldn’t test your assumption, not that you really wanted or needed that confirmation.

He led you into the kitchen where you sat your basket down and began unloading everything you brought him. Steve was looking on in curiosity and horror with all of the things you brought. You moved around his kitchen like you lived there, grabbing a bowl to dish out some of the broth you made while Steve weakly hung onto the doorway and watched.

“You should sit down. You’re not gonna get any better wearing yourself out and running around.”

“I’m just standing here,” he argued.

“And you need to be just sitting somewhere. Or better yet, laying down.”

Steve plopped himself down in one of the kitchen chairs, before crinkling his nose and and sneezing into his elbow. You had tissues at the ready, fresh from your basket and handed some to him. He thanked you.

“You’re welcome. Drink this.” You slid the bowl of broth over to him and he looked up at you.

“Are you gonna have some, too?”

“What? No, I—umm…”

“Watching me eat doesn’t sound like much fun. Did you eat breakfast?”

“No, but I can eat when I go back home.”

“I dunno. You brought a lot of that broth. I think it would be nice for us to eat together.”

You folded your arms and nodded before grabbing a bowl of your own and filling it with broth. You sat opposite him at the table.

“I don’t know if that was you being sweet or being difficult.”

Steve shrugged.

“I like to think I can be good at both.”

That got a hearty chuckle out of you. It was definitely true.

You and Steve ate in silence for a bit after that. Every once in a while Steve would let out a horrendous cough that made you want to piggyback him to the nearest hospital. Once the two of you were done and you had collected both of your bowls to wash (with some pushback from Steve and insistence that he could wash them) you heard the front door to his apartment bust open and frantic footsteps ran into the kitchen.

It was Bucky, out of breath and holding a paper bag in his hands. He gave a short greeting to you before he fixed Steve with a glare.

“I’ve been ringing you all morning, punk. Your phone not working?”

“I unplugged it. Because you’ve been ringing me all morning.”

“Well that’s not going to work,” Bucky said before leaving the room. Peering out of the door, you could see he was in the living room, plugging the phone back in. When Bucky was back, he shook around the paper bag in his hand.

“I’ve got medicine. I’ve got food. I’ve got—“

“It’s like I’m in a hospital,” Steve cut in. You shook your head.

“It’s actually much worse because you’ve got two personal nurses and one of them lives next door,” you said. Bucky nodded in your direction.

“She gets it.”

December 25, 1936

You weren’t especially excited for Christmas. Especially not since your mother passed. Even before then, you never celebrated and mainly spent the time leading up to it dodging invites to this and that church from neighbors. Mrs. Wilson downstairs was especially adamant that you came to the Christmas Eve service at her church, but you knew that was mainly because she wanted to set you up with the preacher’s son.

There was no word in the English language that could describe how little you wanted to meet the preacher’s son.

You spent the day like you did any other day off, lounging around the house and listening to jazz. Taking the occasional sip of whiskey just to liven things up and swaying your hips to Duke Ellington in a tipsy trance. Your brother had done all of his drinking earlier and promptly passed out on the couch, leaving you to enjoy the afternoon alone.

A knock on the door caught your attention. You downed one more shot before answering.

“Who is it?”

You heard a groan to the side of you and realized you woke your brother up with your yelling.

“It’s Steve!”

You opened the door.

Steve was there, bundled up against the December chill, with two parcels in his hands. One was a basket filled with baked goods and other little food items. The other was a gift wrapped package.

“Hey, Steve. Come on in.”

“Thank you,” he said. When he entered, he placed the package down on a table in the living room before taking his hat off. He gave a greeting to your brother, who gave a sloppy wave back before flipping over on the couch in his drunken stupor.

Steve smiled. The tip of his nose and ears were tinged red and you couldn’t help but notice how it was a pretty look against his pale skin.

“It’s lively in here. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Steve. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Steve held up the basket of baked goods to you.

“This is from Mrs. Wilson. She wanted me to give this to you on my way up.”

You took it and looked around inside. A few muffins, some cookies and a fresh loaf of bread were in there along with a card. It looked absolutely delicious and much better than anything you could bake yourself. Between the two of you, you and Michael could demolish this in less than a day under the right circumstances. After you set the basket down on the dining room table, Steve was already handing you the wrapped package.

“And this is for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. A Christmas gift. From me.”

You took it, a big smile taking your face.

“Steve, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to. It’s not much, just something I thought you’d like. I know you don’t really do much on Christmas but I thought I’d just bring something over.”

You set the package down and hugged him tightly. You heard his breath hitch when you made contact but you only squeezed him tighter. He placed his arms around you to hug you back and to steady himself.

Okay, maybe you were veering towards more drunk than tipsy.

When you pulled back, you pressed a kiss to his cheek which made him blush furiously. He was adorable.

“You’re just the sweetest thing. Do you want anything to drink, I—“

As you turned around towards the kitchen, you nearly tripped over your own feet and Steve’s hands came around your waist to steady you. When you turned back, he was still blushing and took his hands away as soon as you were upright.

“Maybe you ought to sit down. And I can grab you a glass of water.”

“Yeah!” you yelled out, taking his hand and pulling him with you, “let’s sit in the kitchen!”

You wobbled unsteadily as soon as you stopped in the kitchen and Steve pulled out a chair for you and gently guided you to it. He grabbed a cup and poured you a glass of water from the sink.

You took it gratefully and sipped, putting most of your concentration into not dropping it.

“Did’ya go to church with Mrs. Wilson?” you asked as he sat opposite you. He nodded.

“Yeah. She told me you said no. Several times. Said she wanted us both to go.”

“Steve! If I’d known you were going I would have gone.”

“Huh? Really? Why?”

You took a sip of your water.

“You ask so many questions. I think you’re swell. I like spending time with you obviously.”

Steve looked taken aback.

December 26, 1936

You woke up the next morning with raging headache. A glass of water set on your bedside table next to an aspirin. You took the aspirin and downed the water before venturing out of your room and into the bathroom.

You were still in your clothes from yesterday and could probably use a shower. Preferably after the bright lights stopped causing stabbing pains in your head.

While taking your empty cup to the kitchen, you were stopped by your brother in your way, with a smug smile on his face and his hands behind his back.

“Hello, little sister. It’s time we have a chat, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes.

“About what, Michael?”

He presented a gift wrapped package to you from behind his back.

“You never opened your gift from Steve.”

“Oh.”

“And why didn’t you tell me you thought he was so swell? You went on and on about that fella after he left. With the way you talked about him, I damn near started to have a crush on him.”

You snatched the package from him and ran back to your room. You heard him laughing behind you.

Plopping down on your bed, you took a look at the gift. It was perfectly and beautifully wrapped and you wondered if Steve had done it himself. When you pulled the paper off, it revealed a brown box.

Pulling off the lid, you were shocked at what you saw. On top was a sketch of you. Sitting at a table and swirling a spoon around a bowl. Maybe meant to be when you visited Steve when he was sick? The sketch was detailed and beautiful. Soft lines against the planes of your face made you look prettier than you thought you were. Your head was thrown back in a laugh.

You set the sketch on your bedside table.

Under the sketch was a candle. You put it to your nose and smiled. It was cinnamon and vanilla scented, smelling suspiciously like the perfume you used. Hmm.

Steve Rogers was full of surprises.

#steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve #marvel x reader #pre serum steve rogers x reader

237 notes · View notes

sinisterexaggerator · 8 months

Note

Okay, we need some Bane love now cause we have Hondo and Shriv happening. May I be blessed with some grumpy blueberry being an absolute blueberry?

What would be something Bane would do for s/o that he doesn't really want to/feel like it, but would do it just for s/o.

Please make grumpy blueberry extra grumpy but... fluffy? ♥

Good question. I have a hard time imagining Bane doing mundane tasks, because I am sure for a lot of things, he just gets Todo to do them.

He probably cooks himself something on occasion, but sticks to ration bars or small animals and insects in a pinch. He probably handles his own laundry, because he doesn’t trust the droid not to fuck it up. He handles his own gear and weapons because that is his livelihood. I imagine his house mother taught him a thing or two (headcanon, obviously) and he is self-reliant in most ways, but won’t work any harder than he needs to.

As far as things like making caf, cleaning dishes, scrubbing the refresher, etc, I see him putting it off on the droid. Maybe he gives Todo travel coordinates and has him engage the hyperdrive. Etc, etc. But I don’t see him wasting too much time on the day-to-day unless it is absolutely necessary.

I see Bane as a sort of loner/bachelor type that makes do by picking up grub at a food stall or living on the bare minimum. Hording his wealth like a dragon sort of, collecting things, trinkets, souvenirs, trophies … but leaving them kind of a mess in his “room.” Considering he doesn’t do much self-care besides attending to his good looks and being impeccably dressed (imo), I really had to think about this one.

He would really have to be all about someone to go out of his way. Don’t get me wrong, I think he would, and maybe would even derive some kind of satisfaction out of it, though he might initially complain.

Hell, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s a good sport and sucks it up. It would really depend on the situation.

One such situation might be taking you to dinner for a special occasion, such as an anniversary. My version of Bane thinks traditions are pointless. He doesn’t celebrate holidays. He doesn’t put stock into the things that other people do, but he knows you personally find some meaning in them and that they are important.

Maybe he makes a reservation and even cleans up nice, dusts his hat off, shines his boots, that sort of thing.

---

“Best be appreciatin’ dhis, it ain’t happenin’ next year,” the Duros informed you upon arrival to your destination. He had gone out of his way to treat you on your special day.

“You’re saying you plan to keep me around, Cad?” you teased playfully, coming in to place a succinct kiss on his cool blue cheek. He had removed his breathing apparatus; all his gear, but those things that were necessary. He was trying to play the part of handsome escort, though he remained armored beneath his tailored suit.

Bane gave you a look that said, “don’t push your luck,” his tongue swishing a wooden toothpick to one side of his thin-lipped mouth.

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” you finalized, waiting for him to put some much-needed pep into his step. The hunter was never in a rush, not unless it was on his terms.

He sauntered forward, and you hooked your arm around his elbow. He smirked at you, though it was lopsided. He ushered you behind the maître d', seating you before himself. Once comfortable, he marked you with his unrelenting stare.

“Don’ think dhis is an excuse te order de most expensive thing on de menu, neither,” he grumbled out.

“Of course not, darling,” you dismissed dryly. You were starting to wonder if you both should have just stayed home and ordered takeout.

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x Reader #Headcanon #ask #star wars #imagines #ficlet #writing #fanfiction #duros #fluff

28 notes · View notes

ciaossu-imagines · 2 months

Text

For the polyshipping day of the event, I used the below prompt for a polyship for Draluc and Ronaldo from The Vampire Dies in No Time! A new fandom to this blog, I hope any fans will enjoy these small headcanons!

Send me a pairing and I’ll tell you who:

Falls asleep on the couch?

It’s definitely Ronaldo. Draluc really does need his coffin to sleep comfortably and it’s rare to see him nap on the couch. Like, once in a blue moon, something is terribly wrong rare. Ronaldo, on the other hand, kind of just crashes wherever he needs to.

Makes friends with the neighbours?

I feel like all three of you would make some sort of friendly acquaintances out of your neighbours but none of you would make fast friends with any of them. Draluc is popular because of the food he’ll cook and share with the neighbours and his lack of hesitation in inviting them over to play games with him, but he’s a bit of a gadfly who kind of finds it amusing to learn gossip and to play pranks on the neighbours, making them upset fairly regularly. Ronaldo is very charismatic and quite a few neighbours thought he was really cool, until the shouting matches between Ronaldo and Draluc, where Ronaldo’s absolute filthy mouth was show-cased were heard by one or more of the neighbours. You, meanwhile, are the one the neighbours all like the best but you hang around with those two weirdos and date both of them, so they think there must be something wrong with you.

Is the adventurous eater?

Both of the boys have foods they will absolutely never go near. For Draluc, it’s garlic and as garlic is used in a lot of dishes, it does severely limit the number of things he’s willing to try. Ronaldo, meanwhile, hates celery more than anything and though it doesn’t make it as difficult to find new dishes to try, he’s the pickier eater of the two. So, I’m going to have to say you would have to be the adventurous eater or nobody is.

Hogs the cover at night?

Honestly, nobody. I really don’t feel like this is a polyship where you share beds. That doesn’t mean you never share a bed for fun things, but when it comes to sleep, because Draluc sleeps in a coffin that doesn’t exactly allow you space in it, you can’t really sleep with him. He feels really bad about this and thinks it’s really unfair that Ronaldo gets to sleep beside you and there is a rather large fight about it that leads to the rule that you all have separate beds to sleep in, that way nobody gets an unfair advantage in cuddle times and getting to be more ‘coupley’ than the other.

Forgets to do the dishes?

Ronaldo just doesn’t do the dishes. Honest to God, because Draluc is so good at the house chores and Ronaldo knows that Draluc will do them, he’s really lazy when it comes to little things like that. He leaves his dishes just laying wherever too, since he knows the ‘cleaning maid’ will take them to where they need to go.

Tries to surprise their partner more often?

I do feel like both men go through periods where they get really into doing sweet things for you, their shared lover. Draluc goes with cooking your favourite meals as a surprise, buying you a new game so that the two of you can play together, buying you merch from a show or game he knows you’re a huge fan of and things like that. Ronaldo, meanwhile, will spoil you with big date ideas, with lots of little individual trips with just him where you get all of his attention, and things along those lines.

Leaves dirty laundry on the floor?

That is, again, Ronaldo. He’s not a neat and tidy person naturally and he’s been spoiled in how willing Draluc is to do the cleaning up around the place. While you probably try to be a bit more considerate, you might also sometimes do the same thing, especially since it will be cleaned for you and with much less complaints than Ronaldo’s.

Stays up until 2 AM reading?

It can be all three of you, if you’re someone with a tendency to do that. Draluc really likes manga and certain novels and when a series really sucks him in, he’s totally engrossed in it. Ronaldo is not only a talented writer, but like most writers, he’s very much a reader and if he’s close enough to finishing a book, he’s pushing through no matter how late the hour gets to finish it all in one go.

Sings in the shower?

The answer to this one is mostly nobody. Ronaldo isn’t a sing in the shower kind of guy, though he’ll hold conversations with himself while he’s in the shower. Draluc sings in the shower but it’s only every now and then and it sounds less like singing and more like the most discordant squawking you’ve ever heard. So, it would have to be you or nobody 😊

Takes the selfies?

Ronaldo takes the most couples selfies, but Draluc takes the best selfies, even if it’s not super easy for him to show up on the camera film.

Plans date night?

Draluc tends to be spontaneous and just lets the evening with you take the two of you wherever, while Ronaldo is the one who puts more effort into taking you on actual dates instead of just having the two of you hang out spending time together!

#unrequested prompts #polyship #the vampire dies in no time #kyuuketsuki sugu shinu #ronaldo #draluc #x reader #headcanons

7 notes · View notes

verlaines-corner-archive · 2 years

Note

hIHI BBG I GOT SICK CAN I RQ DAZAI (and tetcho if u can 🫣🫣) WHEN THEIR S/O HIS SICK 🙏🙏

Dazai with a sick s/o

-> OF COURSE BBG, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON <3 Now I ended up just doing Dazai unfortunately, but once I get a better grip at Tetcho’s character I’ll write a version for him and tag you in it! All I can tell you is just do not let that man cook for you if you’re sick, for the love of God don’t let him.

-> Is actually pretty alright at taking care of you!

-> He takes your illness seriously and wants to get you feeling your best asap.

-> Dazai will take work off when you’re sick so that he can properly care for you. He’ll actually call in when he does it, give a proper notice instead of just not showing up.

-> So he’ll be staying by your side and if you didn’t live together prior, well you do now (at least until you feel better that is, though honestly he may take it as a chance to propose it being permanent).

-> Dazai will move into your apartment for the duration of it. He’d ideally have you at his but it’s messy and moving you into it when you’re sick seems a bit rude.

-> Now despite aforementioned mess at Dazai’s, he’ll keep your joint spotless. A clean environment means a healthy body and mind and though he doesn’t care all too much about himself in that area, he sure as shit cares about you.

-> Will clean any and all rubbish, take care of laundry, the dishes, so on and so forth.

-> Will he complain about it? Oh absolutely, but it’ll still get done!

-> Speaking of dishes, he’ll cook for you too. Now Dazai is not the best at it, not even close, but he does try his hardest. And thanks to his time with Mori he probably has a fairly good idea of what foods to give a sick person too (assuming that Mori is capable of actual doctoring).

-> If your body is sore and you can’t actually eat, Dazai has no qualms in feeding you either. He’s fairly sweet about it too, if not a little teasing. “Awwwwww baby”.

-> One of the best possible people to get medicine from! Dazai knows what works the most efficiently in such matters. Though be warned, it will all taste pretty bad and he will laugh.

-> Now Dazai is surprisingly responsible in regard to proximity!

-> He won’t get all too close unless needed, such as in cases of feeding you, bathing you, or the few times he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

-> This means that Dazai won’t be sleeping in the same bed as you are, instead opting for a spare room or the couch. He will however, be by your side nightly until you actually fall asleep. Sat in a chair by your bed and holding your hand, might even play with your hair depending on how sick you are.

-> Dazai will also read to you if you’re struggling to fall asleep, his voice calming and deep. It’s very nice to fall asleep like that and always ends with a soft kiss to your forehead/hand.

-> Chances are you’ll wake up with him asleep in the chair too jhfehwf

-> Now in terms of playfulness and annoyingness Dazai is still Dazai, but this time it’s a more serious one.

-> His playfulness is more for your sake during this! He knows that being bedridden can be dreadfully boring and the last thing Dazai wants is for you to end up feeling emotionally down as well.

-> He just wants to keep you entertained and see you smile :)

-> All in all he’s actually very responsible about it! Dazai just wants you to be as healthy as you can be.

#✧ library shelves ✧#bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai #dazai x reader #do feel better dear Maki!#not proofread that will be done later

142 notes · View notes

powerfultenderness · 2 years

Text

Your Monster

Rated: Mature

Pairing: gn!Reader/Vigilante

Summary: When things go too far, the only person you can turn to is your ex, who happens to be Vigilante.

Warnings: Reader-centric. Dark themes: Abuse. Hints of suicidal ideation. Hints of manipulation. Light smut, blood play. (just kissing, but blood is involved).

Word Count: 1751

A/N: Can be read as a sequel to [Worlds Apart], OR as a stand alone.

[Part 2! Try it]

[Masterlist]

[Line Divider]

Logically speaking, Vigilante was a terrifying person. He was dangerous and a true psychopath. He was even more terrifying when you realized his secret identity was so mundane. A nerdy looking busboy with an old car and a tendency to inanely ramble was the last person anyone would expect to be a serial killer.

Upon finding out who Adrian Chase really was, any sane person would have turned him in. You were sane but also scared, and fear will turn any smart person into an idiot. So you begged him to leave you alone in exchange for keeping his secret.

You kept your mouth shut and he let you move on. And then you needed him…

Fear will turn any smart person into an idiot. You stayed in the next relationship about five years too long. Sure you tried to leave the man, tried in many different ways, but he always found a way to make you stay. He didn't only convince you to put up with the abuse, he convinced you that you deserved it.

He was a cop, well liked and well respected. Any attempt to file a report against him ended up swept under the rug. You were told, softly and gently, that you were overreacting. You were lucky to have a man like him as a partner. Sure, lucky. The ER doctors thought so too. Lucky that you were still alive.

Still alive.

…

That's what gave you the idea. How could you have forgotten? Sure Vigilante was terrifying, but…

Now you were waking up in Adrian’s bed, alone, and wearing his clothes once again. The only thing you had on you when you fled was your phone. Which, given the circumstances, probably wouldn’t be in service for much longer. He let you into his house, again. He listened intently as you explained what happened. Since you had nowhere else to go, he offered to let you stay at his place.

You showered and he let you borrow some of his clothes, then he patched you up (“Good thing I have a lot of experience with this!”) Like a gentleman he let you sleep in his bed while he slept on his couch. He even told you to lock the door so you’d feel safe. Safe. You couldn’t remember what that felt like.

“I have to work late tonight.” He told you before he left for work the next afternoon. “Help yourself to anything. Relax and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He waved at you. With the exception of when he was treating your wounds, he made a very obvious effort to give you space. It was actually reassuring.

“Oh! And you should probably turn off your phone so they can’t track you!” He then paused and scrunched up his face in that way you used to find so cute (maybe you still do?). “But, you can turn it back on to call me if you need anything. If you want.”

You could only offer him a wan smile and a weak, “okay.”

Then he left you all alone in his home.

You were used to spending your days alone at home. But they were filled with anxious cleaning and cooking and primping and doing everything possible to make sure nothing set him off. But Adrian had told you to rest and relax and seemed genuine about it. So you helped yourself to a small breakfast, cleaned up the dishes, and went back to sleep.

Adrain still used the same laundry detergent, still used the same brand of all in one shampoo-conditioner-soap. The familiarity of it was an unexpected comfort that made it easy to fall asleep. Turns out an abused, anxious and fear ridden body will greedily take all the rest it can get when offered.

It was just past three in the morning when you woke up next. You weren’t sure if you woke because of the twelve hour nap or because of the few thumps you heard from elsewhere in the house. You sat up and realized the noise must have been Adrian trying, and failing, to be quiet in his own kitchen.

An actual smile crossed your face, the fearsome Vigilante was somehow a terrible sneak.

You did your best to smooth out the slept in clothes and rub the sleep from your eyes before you quietly made your way to the kitchen.

He was humming. Digging through the fridge and humming something you were pretty sure he was making up on the spot. He was even dancing a little as he turned around, sandwich ingredients in hand.

“Fuck! I didn’t even hear you wake up!” He dropped the food on the counter, you noticed a bit of red smudged on the bottle of mayo. “Oh, fuck! I mean! I didn’t wake you up, did I? I’m so sorry if I did! You really need to rest-”

You were only half listening to his ramble. He was still in his Vigilante suit, with the exception of his mask, which had been replaced by his simple glasses. He looked so much…more in that suit. It was much more form fitting than his usual wardrobe. Maybe it was the padding on the suit, but he seemed bigger than you remembered. He wasn’t your average lanky nerd when you left him, but still, the man in front of you rambling about the importance of sleep could probably easily, well, kill a man.

Your eyes locked onto the chevron chest piece of his suit. That’s where the red smudge on the mayo came from. There was a dull sheen splashed across the black and teal, you could tell it was a dark red from the random droplets across the lightest part of his armor.

Tentatively you reached out, sliding your hand down the chest piece. “Is this…his?”

You looked down at your hand, rubbing the drying sticky blood between your fingers, oddly fascinated with the stain it left on your hands. He’d made you bleed so much, now somewhere out there he was the one bleeding. A part of you wanted to see it.

Adrian stopped his ramble with a thick swallow. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking. You were just…staring at the blood you wiped off of his suit. Your breath quickened, chest heaving slightly, but other than that you said nothing else. You had left him because you found out he killed people. But, you also asked him to kill the guy so…

“Yea. It’s his.”

The silence that followed made Adrian regret not changing back into his regular clothes in the car. He was just so hungry by the time he got home and he forgot the bathroom was through the bedroom, which you had locked. He was just going to wash up in the kitchen sink, but he wanted to eat first because he spent all day doing recon and planning with the team (because if he was going to kill a cop, he had to be extra careful). And he just wished you’d say something else, anything. Except when you finally did say something, he still couldn’t read you!

“...Did he suffer?”

For a second Adrian thought about lying to you. But then he watched as you continued to smear the blood between your fingers. He might not be able to tell what you were thinking, but at least you didn’t look sad.

“I made him regret ever touching you. He said he was sorry and begged for his life…Then I really made him suffer.”

You froze, which made him freeze too, and slowly looked up at him. You stared at him, your eyes searching his for something he wasn’t sure you wanted to see. But he couldn’t hide himself from you, never could, never wanted to in the first place.

Then a smile started to slowly pull at your lips, reaching your eyes- dilated from fear? Maybe? Maybe not…

“Good.”

He licked his lips, his hands nervously falling to his hips, “uhm. What?”

This time a giggle ripped it way past your lips, you just found him so cute like that, and you gave him a bright smile. “Thank you.”

He sighed and relaxed. “Oh! You’re welcome! You know, even though we broke up, if you ever need me to kill someone-” Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. Your smile immediately fell and your eyes went wide.

“Uh, I just mean, I never should have stopped watching over you. I think I saw-”

“What? Watching over me?”

“Yea. It was just to-”

“How long?”

He didn’t miss the breathlessness (panic?) that started to seep into your voice.

Lying to you was always difficult. “Like everyday? Six months? I kept checking on you every once in a while after that. Then you started dating that jackass but he was a cop so I thought you were safe-”

Yea, so did you.

“And then I stopped following you when you deleted your social media-”

“That was the first time he hit me. I, I didn’t want people to see.”

“Fuck. Baby, I’m so sorry! I never should have-”

Baby?

Whatever he was going to say next was swallowed as you surged forward and eagerly pressed your lips to his. Your hands were planted on his chest, in the blood of your abusive ex, fingers curling and uncurling in a desperate attempt to feel it against your skin.

After a few heated moments he pulled away, but one of your hands snaked up to the back of his neck, gripping his hair, eliciting a quiet groan from him, to keep him close.

He opened his mouth, likely to ask if you were thinking clearly. But you cut him off yet again. “Fuck me, Vigilante.”

His eyes went wide as he sucked in a breath.

“Are you sure?” His voice was low and gravelly and you could see in his blown eyes, feel in his hard body, that he needed you to say yes.

Your hands moved up his chest to cup his face, one of your thumbs tracing his bottom lip, leaving a smear of blood on his mouth. His blood on Adrian’s pretty pink lips. “Very.”

He roughly pushed you against the counter, though even in the heat of the moment he was mindful of the bruises that still littered your body, and absolutely devoured you.

Sure, Vigilante was a terrifyingly dangerous person, but now that you knew you still had his heart, so were you.

#vigilante x reader #adrian chase x reader #dark fic

160 notes · View notes

eddieschains · 1 year

Text

Complex

Eddie Munson X Reader

A/N: okay this is very short and i was not going to post this at all but the more i read it the more i like it which is not normal for me so i guess i’ll post it 😭 also im gonna be honest there really isn’t a lot of eddie interactions in this and it’s mainly just readers internal dialogue and it is a bit sad so if that isn’t for you i totally understand and you can skip!!

TW// mentions of mental health/depression and the physical side effects of that)

It was just one of those days. Well, months. Months of just feeling… off. You weren’t sure what happened or why you were feeling like this, but all you knew was that it didn’t feel good.

Everyday was worse. Falling further into that feeling of drowning and not knowing how to swim, until one day you reached the bottom of the ocean. Did something happen to make you break? No. Nothing that you could put your finger on at least.

You were tired. Tired of feeling like this, tired of not feeling normal, happy. You should be happy. You had a wonderful boyfriend. You had your own place. You had your friends. And you felt so fucking selfish that it still wasn’t enough.

Eddie was already gone when you woke up. He’d been working earlier shifts at the shop so he could spend time with you at night. But most nights, you were already asleep when he got home.

Was it weird for you to be asleep when he left and asleep when he got home? Sure. But he didn’t question you. Well, how could he when you were never awake to be questioned?

You laid in bed practically all day. Debating on doing the laundry, doing the dishes, maybe fixing up the yard while you were at it. You just didn’t have the energy. That’s probably what made you snap.

You were just frustrated with yourself. You seriously don’t have the energy to do normal tasks? When was the last time you took a shower? Or cooked dinner instead of ordering pizza? Or even vacuumed the house? How pathetic are you?

The tears in your eyes didn’t even have a chance to bubble before they began spilling out. Violent sobs escaping your mouth while you were at it. You tried to be quiet, knowing your roommate Steve would be home from his morning run any minute. And Robin might still be home too. But it was just one more thing you couldn’t seem to control.

You mustered up just enough energy to get out of bed and lock the bedroom door before falling back on top of the mattress. If they were going to hear your pitiful cries, you didn’t want to give them a chance to barge in on you, making it worse.

Almost on que, you hear the front door unlock, followed by Steve’s heaving panting. You don’t know why, but it makes you cry harder. It’s almost as if your body wanted someone to hear you, to help you, and you could only wish you could punch yourself in the face for that.

You hear the trail of footsteps making their way to the hallway, stopping right in front of your door. Shit. You bury your head into the pillow, waiting to hear him walk away. It seems like hours before they do, but you’re able to mentally sigh a release of relief.

The fear of nearly being caught shocks your cries back into your body, allowing you to relax just for a moment. Closing your eyes until you’re able to lull yourself back to sleep, back to your only place of comfort.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you’re jolted back awake. Back to the place of reality, the place of darkness. It seems like you don’t get a single minute of calm before the storm approaches once again.

You accept your defeat, curling up underneath the covers before letting round two spill from your eyes. There’s no point in fighting it anymore. Steve is home, Robin probably is too, but you’ve lost the power to even care about being quiet anymore.

Time is frozen. You’ve completely disassociated from reality until a loud bang brings you back.

“Y/N?” Eddie. Shit shit shit. “Y/N, can you please unlock the door?” You take a deep breath in, wiping your tears with your sleeve before making your way to the door.

You hold your hand on the handle for a few seconds, before unlocking and opening it. Finding a disheveled looking Eddie before forcing a smile across your face.

“Hi baby, why are you home so early?” You ask, your voice reaching a few octaves higher than normal. Eddie rushes in, closing the door behind him.

“Please don’t pretend like you’re okay right now. I know you’re not.” His voice isn’t angry, it’s worrisome. And it breaks your heart even more to know that you’re the reason for it. “Steve called.” He blurts out, and your stomach falls. “Listen, you don’t have to talk about it. But, I don’t want you to be alone right now, okay?”

You nod, making your way back into the bed. Eddie stays on the other side of the room, watching as you assume your previous position under the blankets.

He sighs, making his way to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge. “Can I join you?” Your only response being holding the blanket open, inviting him inside.

He shuffles underneath the covers, enveloping you in his arms. You nuzzle your head into his chest, wrapping your limbs around him as well.

You two stay attached to each other, relishing in the silence for what feel like an eternity. It’s the first time you’ve felt safe in months. The first time you don’t have a sinking feeling in your chest. The first time you don’t feel like crying. The first time you think you might be able to smile, genuinely smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie finally asks. You think about it for a second, but you don’t want to ruin this moment by breaking down again.

You mumble a simple no, before burying your head into his chest once again. He whispers an okay, before placing a kiss on your forehead and holding you even tighter than before.

That was the thing about Eddie. He always gave you a safe space to talk about your feelings with no judgment, but he never rushed you or expected you to do so.

Sure, he might’ve been a little bit disappointed that you didn’t tell him you were struggling earlier, but it was more disappointment on his part for not noticing sooner.

Maybe you’d talk to him about it one day, but not today. Today you just wanted him to hold you. Tell you he was here, and that he wasn’t going anywhere. Today you just wanted to feel a glimmer of hope, a sliver of being okay. Eddie was all you needed for that to become a reality.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst

41 notes · View notes

storiesofsvu · 1 year

Text

Grace Muncy Headcanons

Grace Muncy x reader some mentions of smutty situations. also I dunno who to tag in these yet so if you want to be added or taken off, just lmk!

Who Is more likely to end up in jail and the other has to bail them out?

You know, I know that Grace is a cop, but I’m still going with her being in jail on this one. LOL. She’s a little on the wild/reckless side and sometimes crosses lines. And if she crosses lines with the wrong person, she’s gonna end up with a desk ticket. And honestly, you’re probably not going to be mad when you pick her up, but you are going to remind her that if she wants to keep her job she might want to watch her step.

Who is more likely to set the kitchen on fire while cooking?

I’m going with you on this one. We know that Grace’s mom died when she was young-ish and that she lives with her brother (we’re gonna pretend he’s the younger of the two?) so that plus no mention of their dad Imma say she had to adult up real quick and while she’s not a whiz in the kitchen, she can handle the basics and a little bit above and has a couple of tricks she’s picked up along the way that make things even more incredible. However she is the one that put dish soap in the dishwasher and had it flood the entire kitchen.

If they have a test spends all night studying You. Grace will prepare as much as she can and then do the “welp, if I don’t have it by now, I won’t have it in the morning.” Kinda thing.

Push the other into a pool?

Grace. She’s playful, she laughs at pranks, and she’s totally okay (and expecting it) when you either pull her in when she’s helping you out, or shove her in an hour later when she’s already forgotten and isn’t expecting it.

Talk smack while playing video games

Grace!! For sure. She already talks smack a little bit so you just KNOW that she’s gonna be running her mouth the entire time you’re playing, even if she’s losing. And when she wins?! Oh homegirl is going to rub that in your face SO hard. I also definitely see her making or taking bets on video games and she celebrates like no tomorrow. The bets are usually things around the house/pertaining to your relationship. Like, loser has to do the dishes, fold the laundry, pay for the takeout, and they can definitely get sexual… she just gives you that look as she hands you the controller “you win this and I’ll go down on you until my jaw’s sore” kind of thing, and who’s gonna say no to that?

Sings along to the radio while driving Both of you. She’s picky with her music though, and hates when you’re controlling the playlists, but you do have a number of songs that she absolutely loves and will definitely jam out to, full volume. Road trips with Grace are always a blast and full blown concert.

Has to be pulled out of a pet store because they get distracted by puppies?.

Grace. She absolutely adores them and knows that it’s not exactly ideal to get a dog (especially a puppy) with her workload/schedule, so she adores going to the pet store/SPCA to play with the puppies and dogs as long as she can.

immediately begins to shimmy when maroon 5 comes on Either Grace or both of you. She’s the one who will play music while cooking or cleaning and obviously is gonna have a good time to make mundane tasks around the house a lot more fun and entertaining.

wakes the other up at 3am demanding pancakes Grace is the queen of cooking breakfast, so it’s usually her, working super late on a case or unable to sleep, she starts to make pancakes and the smell/noise wakes you up and even if you’re exhausted you can’t say no to her pancakes so you wander out to the kitchen and spend at least an hour snuggling feeding each other until you convince her to come to bed.

sends the other unsolicited nudes

Absolutely Grace. That girl is the queen of teasing, a little brat, and will always try to get you riled up at the complete inopportune moment in hopes of getting laid (and potentially punished) afterwards. She starts with stylish lacy lingerie peeking out from under clothes, tasteful boudoir style pics, little selfie where she’s clearly not wearing a shirt, her lip tugged into her teeth as she smirks at the camera. They get dirtier and dirtier until they’re videos of her touching herself moaning about how much she needs you.

brags about knowing karate even though they never made it past yellow belt I kinda feel like this might be her… but it also could be you. She might not go karate, but she definitely brags that she can beat you in an arm wrestle (and you better believe the entire squad has bets on who would win between her and Velasco…)

comes to a complete halt outside bakeries/candy shops

You. Grace is more of a savoury/salty snack/treat person. She’ll enjoy the occasional sweet, esp while pms-ing (we all know those cravings) but she’ll take her hot Cheetos over sweets any day.

blows sarcastic kisses after doing ridiculous shit

Grace. Do we even need to elaborate? Though she rubs off on you and you start to do it too, it’s like your own little way to say goodbye to each other.

wears the least clothing around the house

We’ve already discussed Grace being a tease and a brat, so I’m going to give this one to her! She likes to be comfortable as we’ve clearly seen already, so at home, its goodbye to the jeans and why bother with another pair of pants/shorts? She’ll wander around in a tshirt and panties, and if she’s trying to tease, trying to get some action she’ll 100% walk around in lacy lingerie or in nothing at all until you’re paying attention to her and not whatever you were doing prior.

has icky sentimental moments for no apparent reason You. Grace is just so goofy and adorable its easy to fall in love with her and more than easy for you to just be staring with a goofy grin on your face and get all ooey gooey over how much you love her. She’ll tell you to stop, but will gladly accept all the kisses and loving that you give her, because of course she absolutely adores it.

___________ @witches-unruly-heart @thatesqcrush @borg-queer @bullet-prooflove @momlifebehard @red1culous

#grace muncy #grace muncy x reader #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order #grace muncy head canons

25 notes · View notes