#I have superglue on my hands now I can’t get off :’)

[oobbbear]

I’m back on doll making so here’s a little sunny for the warmup :]c✨

His eyes weren’t originally planned to look like that but I umm messed that up so I added an eyelid to cover it now he has this smug face going on which I honestly like more than the plan hehehe

#my art #sundrop #fnaf sun #art doll #clay doll #I have superglue on my hands now I can’t get off :’) #note to self #change glue to a safer option #Oh also if anyone’s interested I might open art doll commissions during the summer #I’m getting used to the process #will make a poll post later on #:]✨ #guess who I’m gonna make next

[forever-rogue]

As it Goes

AN | No one, absolutely no one, asked for this but my mind said yes. So here we are here - a collection of moments, or rather, how you met and fell in love with Spider-Man 🥰❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 4.2k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a quiet winter evening in New York City. As quiet as it came among the traffic, sirens, and people anyway. You should have been inside, but you couldn’t find yourself able to stay in your apartment, opting instead to get some fresh air on the rooftop. You’d brought along a book, blanket, and some snacks before making your way up to the little hideaway you and a few neighbors had created. 

After you’d turned on the fairy lights and settled down, you opened your book and made it through approximately one chapter before you were interrupted; interrupted being put lightly. Out of nowhere, you heard a loud scream, followed by some sort of crash, accompanied by a few loud groans and moans. Your book had flown out of your hand at the sudden intrusion, but it quickly became the last thing on your mind as you jumped up and went to see what had happened.

The last thing you’d ever expected to see was suddenly laid out in front of you. There he was, your friendly neighborhood spiderman, lying on the rooftop of your building, clutching his side as he tried to catch his breath.

“S-spider-man?” the big white eyes of his mask met yours, and the two of you stared at each for a few long, tense moments. You weren’t quite sure what to say - did you offer him help, pretend you never saw him, or…? Instead, all rational thoughts left your mind and you laughed nervously (a wicked habit of yours), “y-you look taller on TV.”

“I…what?” the big white eyes narrowed in confusion as you mentally facepalmed yourself. 

“You just look b-bigger on TV,” you stammered, “I just…I dunno. I guess the camera really does add ten pounds?”

You were absolutely going to superglue your mouth shut…this word vomit was going to be the death of you. What you didn’t see was the giant, soft smile on the face under the mask, “I’m just a person. Is that not enough?”

“No! No, no, absolutely…I just meant…,” you waved your hands around, attempting not to insult New York’s favorite superhero, “I just…superheroes and all that…you know what? I’m just going to shut up and maybe throw myself off the building.”

“No use,” he said nonchalantly, a teasing lilt to his voice, “I’d catch you way before you could squish on the ground.”

“What if I asked you not to?”

“No can do,” he laughed before groaning again as he clutched at his side, “I can’t let just a valued citizen plunge to their death just because they’re nervous.”

“I’m not…nervous,” you squeaked softly, embarrassed by how easily he managed to call you out, “umm…are you alright? You’re hurt.”

You were at his side and on your knees without a second thought. He watched you intently, but he didn’t stop you. He picked up on how rapidly your heart was beating, and he could practically feel the adrenaline rolling off of you. You reached a shaky hand out towards him, moving his arm out of the way to assess the damage. There was a gash in the suit at his side, pale skin exposed along with a gnarly looking wound. A small sound of distress escaped your lips but he quickly sat up and shook his head in an attempt to soothe your worries, “it’s okay - you should see the other guy.”

“I’m not too concerned about the other guy right now,” you insisted, “was this from a knife?”

“It wasn’t a big knife,” he shrugged softly, amused by the intense look on your face, “it’ll be okay - I have fast regenerative skills. It’ll be healed by the morning.”

“But does it hurt now?” you sat back and plopped down on the cold ground next to him. He encountered so many strangers almost every day, but none had been like you. He could tell that your kindness and concern was genuine…something that had become a bit of rarity. Most people just wanted to spend a moment to say they met Spider-Man. You grabbed his jaw, your touch firm but gentle as you attempted to look him over as if you could see through the mask, “I could go and get some painkillers? I’ve got some strong stuff left from when I had my wisdom teeth out! Or does that…not work for you?”

“It works,” he promised quickly, trying to keep himself calm at the way your touch seemed to send electric shivers throughout his body, despite the fact that you weren’t even touching his skin, “but I’ll be okay. Promise.”

“Pinky?” you held up your pinky finger to him and he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. He obliged your little request as he held up his own pinky and wrapped it around yours.

“Pinky promise,” he insisted.

“Good,” you insisted, “that means you can’t ever lie to me, you know. You can’t break a pinky promise or there will be consequences - even for Spider-Man.”

“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” oh. He liked you. A lot. Probably too much for a virtual stranger he’d just met. He sat up fully, taking a moment to steady himself before rising to his feet. Okay, maybe he did look taller standing up… “you should get inside…it’s late and cold out here. Might end up meeting some weird, random, bleeding men.”

Your eyes widened for a moment before you reached over and touched his arm gently, “will I see you again?”

Your question was so shy and tentative that it almost had him whipping off the mask to kiss you right then and there. But he refrained and controlled himself. Instead, he reached over and settled his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “yes. Pinky promise.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Several long and painstaking weeks passed before you saw him again. Twenty-five days if you were being exact. Not that you were counting or anything. 

It happened late one night as you were leaving the bodega with a huge bagful of groceries after a long day of work at the coffee shop you managed. The big bag was stuffed to the brim and you clutched it to your chest, almost obscuring your vision as you walked to your apartment building.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or different until you heard a soft thwip somewhere behind you….and then a soft landing of feet on concrete. And yet, still, you didn’t think anything of it. Not until - 

“Hello there!” 

“Fuck!” you almost dropped the bag in surprise at the sudden appearance of him. You stopped, set down your bag at your feet, before clutching at your chest. 

“I believe the proper response is General Kenobi,” you could practically hear the amusement in his voice as you waved him off, “but I’ll let it slide ‘cause I scared you so much.”

“Spider-Man’s a nerd,” you huffed, slowly catching your breath, “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you appear out of nowhere and give me a heart attack.” 

“I’ll make myself louder next time,” he bent over and grabbed the bag effortlessly as you raised an eyebrow, “let me walk you home?”

“Is that part of your good Samaritan duties?” but you didn’t stop him, instead running a few steps to catch up with his long strides. You weren’t going to question how easily he remembered the building you lived in. Maybe that was all part of his Spidey powers too, “surely Spider-Man’s too busy for a peasant like myself.”

“I prefer to think of them as friendly neighborhood deeds,” he slowed his stride so you could catch up with him, “and no. There’s no other pressing matters to attend to.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you walked next to each other. Every once in a while, his hand would brush against yours, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he would do if you took it and held it. 

“I, umm…I missed you,” your confession, soft and ardent, was almost inaudible. But not to him; he heard it loud and clear. 

“I missed you too,” he  turned to look at you, and you had to look away, biting your lip softly, “twenty-five days was too long.”

He’d been counting too.

When you reached your building, he walked with you up the steps to the front door, and the two of you stared at each other for a few moments, you bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet, “do you wanna come inside? I…you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that maybe…it’s silly, probably. I don’t think Spider-Man does house calls or whatever. I was just thinking that maybe we could watch a movie or something? I-I have all the streaming stuff a-and all the Star Wars movies. I’m making a fool of myself again, please just put me out of my misery and toss me down the stairs.”

“Nope,” he pronounced happily as you groaned, “I think it’s cute-”

“End me now-”

“And I’d love to watch a movie,” he insisted, “whatever suits your fancy.” 

“Really?” you’d hidden your face in your hands but tentatively allowed yourself a peek at him

“Really.”

“You’re carrying the groceries upstairs.”

“I’m sure there’s an elevator.”

“It’s out of service at the moment.”

He groaned dramatically, as you beamed at him; both of you were aware of the fact that it would be an easy endeavor for him. You opened the door and led the way, Spider-Man following closely behind.

What a strange day it had suddenly turned into. Not that you were complaining, of course.

And neither was he.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He ended up occupying way more of your thoughts than should have been legal. It was a good thing that people couldn’t read minds, or surely you’d be thrown straight into the loony bin for the constant string of thoughts. 

Spider-Man, whose real name you still did not know, had become somewhat of a chaotic constant in your life. He made an appearance as often as he could; sometimes tapping away at your window late at night, finding you as you left work, popping up as you went about the city. You wondered if this was the sort of….bond was something he had with a lot of people. You felt a pang of jealousy in your stomach as you realized just how strong your feelings were growing. 

You were getting to know him, as much as he would divulge anyway; he always made sure to keep just a little bit of distance between the two of you. Safer, he insisted, if you didn’t fully know who he was. You still couldn’t help but want the rest of it, the rest of him. You just weren’t able to tell him that. 

“That sauce smells delicious,” he’d slid in through your open window and made himself at home as you worked in the kitchen. He padded towards you and leaned against the counter, “let me guess, an old world family recipe that’s been secretly handed down for generations?”

“You have such faith in me, Spidey,” you were grinning; it was easy to do that around him, “but, alas, this is a recipe I found on Pinterest. Hopefully it’ll still be decent.”

“It will,” you liked the warmth he brought in your apartment, “my spidey senses can feel it.”

“I know you can’t eat with me…” you gestured to the mask, “but I could pack you some to take with you? Or…we could sit back to back or in the dark? I-I promise I won’t look. I just think it’d be nice, ya know?”

He hesitated for a moment as you tried to hide the way your face fell. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to - fuck, he wanted to. And he trusted you, almost more than anything or anyone else. The main thing was that he wanted to keep you safe…and he was convinced that one would lead to another and you’d be in danger. He wouldn't - couldn’t - do that. 

“I’d like that,” he agreed and that breathtaking smile was back on your face, “back to back, maybe. I trust you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised softly. You turned back to finishing the sauce and adding pasta to the boiling water. He watched you for a moment, his limbs and every part of his body filled with affection. It was then that he knew what he wanted, nay needed to do, “my name is Peter.”

Your eyes flicked to his immediately, and you liked to think that he was looking back at you just the same way. A smile tugged up the corners of your mouth, “Peter.”

“Peter Parker,” he didn’t hesitate and that made both of you realize that something had shifted. 

“Peter Parker,” you repeated softly, and he decided that there was no sweeter sound, “it’s nice to meet you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, honey.”

You'd fallen in love with him. You didn't even know what he looked like. And yet he was the man that easy and effortlessly made his place in your heart.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Things changed after that night; slowly the little bit of remaining layers of mystery between the two of you dissolved. At first Peter had been nervous, wondering at every step of the way if he should be doing this. But he knew he wanted this - wanted you - and although there was always a bit of worry and fear in his heart, he knew he couldn’t let it control the rest of his life. He was allowed to be happy, to want good things for himself, to want to love you and let himself be loved by you.

Slowly he stopped being Spider-Man and started becoming Peter to you. 

It happened one night as you fell asleep on the couch next to him, your head resting on his chest. His arm was around your shoulder and he started paying more attention to you than the movie that was playing in the background. He’d picked the movie, but couldn’t care less about that now. 

“I can feel you staring,” you whispered softly which brought an instant smile to his face, “Pete.”

“You’re really pretty,” he whispered, anything remaining caution thrown out the window, “really, really pretty.”

“I bet you are too,” you mumbled, already sinking back into sleep, “maybe one day I can see.”

Yeah. He hoped so too.

“Can I kiss you?” he couldn’t help himself; he had to know how soft your plush lips were, how they felt against his. He could see you squeezing your eyes shut tighter, and he appreciated the effort, “please?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded lightly. You were always precious to him, cute and funny beyond what he believed should be legally allowed, but there was something about your sleepy form cuddled into him that made him feel some type of way, “eyes are tightly shut, Pete.”

He hesitated for a moment before he pulled up the mask, revealing the lower half of his face. He shuffled you around slightly so he could tilt his face down and capture yours in a soft kiss. At first you were sure you were dreaming, but when you felt him stop, sigh softly, before he kissed you again. There was a soft smile on your face as you felt him brush his thumb along your lower lip. With a bit of reluctance, he pulled the mask back down. 

You yawned softly before deciding to just listen to your heart for once instead of the chaos of your brain, and crawled into his lap, resting against his chest and burying your face into his neck. You could feel him stiffen for a moment before he laid his hand on top of yours, his arms tightened their hold you.

“I hope you kiss me again, Pete,” you whispered sleepily, causing his heart to beat so fast that he was surprised it didn’t burst through his ribcage, “‘s nice.”

“I will,” he promised, already addicted to how you felt and tasted, “pinky promise.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late night at night and you were fast asleep, tucked under the covers and snoring softly. Peter almost felt bad about waking you up, but he was hurting…badly. He knew realistically that he didn’t need your assistance, that his wounds would ache but heal on their own. But he also knew that he needed you. As soon as he’d been injured all he could think about was crawling home to you. 

He tapped the window gently, almost as if he didn’t really want you to wake up. He could just stay on your fire escape and wait it all out, but then he ran the risk of someone seeing him and tying the two of you together. But you deserved to rest and -

“Pete?” your eyes were bleary as you blinked at him. He tilted his head to the side and you knew that under the mask there was an apologetic smile on his face. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and looked at him again; that’s when you noticed the rips in his suit across his abdomen and chest, “Peter.”

You threw open the window, suddenly wide awake as you took his hand and pulled him inside as delicately as you could. He grimaced slightly as his feet hit the ground, “I didn’t want to wake you up, I’m sorry.”

“You’re hurt,” it came out like a pathetic whimper as you dragged him to the bathroom. You kept a well stocked first aid in there these days; luckily this was the first time you’d had to use it. You pointed to the edge, motioning for him to sit. He knew better than to argue with you and complied, sighing lightly, “you poor thing. I…let me take care of you.”

“You don’t have to,” he insisted meekly, but you weren’t about to listen to him, having instead grabbed a clean rag and antiseptic to clean the gashes that looked red and angry, “I jus’ wanted to see you.”

“Pete,” your voice cracked as you refused to look at his face. You didn’t want him to see that you were actually tearing up. The idea that something could have happened to him made your insides churn. You couldn’t imagine a life without Peter, and while you knew that being Spider-Man was dangerous at times, you detested the idea that something worse could happen to him. But in the moment you didn’t want him to see you have a breakdown so you did what you always did when you grew nervous - you rambled, “y-you inspired me, you know.”

“I did?” there was nothing but affection and fondness in his tone, “how so?”

“By being Spider-Man,” you slowly started to wrap one of the gashes, “y-you always help others, so I wanted to do the same. And I can’t be a superhero so I did what I could think of - I signed up to volunteer at the FEAST center. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes,” he was already in love with you, he knew that much, but he was pretty sure he’d just fallen harder. Of course he knew FEAST; his aunt May was one of the main people behind the center. Peter often volunteered there too when time allowed, “that’s…wonderful and kind of you. They could always use more help.”

“Mhmm,” you dabbed some ointment onto one of the other gashes, “I talked to this super nice woman, May, there and she got me all set. They all seemed super nice there; said her nephew and his friends volunteered there too.”

“I think that’s wonderful of you,” he could hear you sniffle, and caught your hand and stopped what you were doing. You made a small sound of surprise as he turned your face up to his; you knew that he would see the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “what’s wrong, honey?”

“I just…I just don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, Peter,” you almost felt pathetic, but it was the truth. You both knew that much, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Nothing will happen,” he promised softly, wiping away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “I swear it. I’ll always drag myself back to you.”

“Promise?” you asked and he nodded, already ahead of you as he held up his hand, pinky outstretched.

“Pinky,” he whispered, “and you can’t break a pinky promise.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been almost four days since you’d seen Peter. If you were being totally honest, it fucking sucked. He’d become such a constant presence in your day-to-day life that it was painstakingly obvious when he wasn’t there. And it wasn’t like you could just call or text him; there was still that little bit of barrier left and sometimes you wondered where your relationship with him was headed. But you loved him, and he loved you, the rest would work itself out. 

And to his credit, Peter did say that he had to go out of town for a bit. You just weren’t sure how long that bit was. But…Peter hadn’t been totally honest. He’d actually been there, home in Queens, trying to figure out how he was going to introduce himself to you. As Peter, not Spider-Man or anything else. Maybe it was risky, involving you in every aspect of his life, but he didn’t care. He needed you like he needed air; he knew that fear couldn’t control him forever. Needless to say, he’d been having a mental breakdown figuring this all out. 

But that didn’t take away the fact that you missed him terribly. On top of that the coffee shop was incredibly slow today and that allowed your mind to wander. All back to him of course. You tried to busy yourself with scrubbing every bit of the counter in order to provide some relief from your incessant thoughts. You were almost annoyed when you heard someone approach the counter and clear their throat.

“Hi,” the pretty boy, the handsome man, across the counter looked at you with a smile that made your knees weak. You hadn’t seen him before - not like this - but you knew who he was immediately. Part of you wanted to jump over the counter to tackle him and shower him with affection, but the other part of you was nervous. This would change everything, a little fact that you were both well aware of.

“Peter,” you breathed out his name and he was sure that he’d never heard anything sweeter. He could only hope that the rest of his days were filled with getting to hear his name drip like golden honey from your lips, “it’s you.”

“It’s me,” he confirmed, an anxious little smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. It seemed like things suddenly slowed down and it was only the two of you. It felt like it was one of those cheesy rom-coms that you secretly loved so much. You stopped what you were doing, tossed the rag behind you before running around the counter and jumping into his arms. Peter was so in tune with you, that he knew what was happening before it manifested, and he easily caught you in his arms as he spun you around. 

“Peter,” you looked at him for a moment before you kissed him. It wasn’t so much a proper kiss as it was you crashing your lips onto his, messy but saccharine, both of you needing to finally feel each other like this. When you pulled back, you were both grinning at each other like lovesick fools. He set you down, beaming at you before taking your face in his large hands and kissing you softly. You could get lost in him so easily, and you were definitely ready for a lifetime of his kisses. 

Reality - the fact that you were in the middle of the coffee shop, during the tailed of your shift - set in when the few customers inside started to clap and cheer for the two of you. Your face warmed up and Peter’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pastel pink as you looked at each other shyly.

“Can I take you out?” he asked breathlessly as you nodded before he even finished the question, “tonight?”

“Yes,” you whispered softly, “please. I’ve got about fifteen minutes left, so I’ll just clean up real quick and then we can go.”

“Sounds perfect,” he nodded and you turned to go behind the counter, but he quickly stopped you, long, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist. He pulled you back to him and kissed you again, practically stealing the breath from your lungs and every coherent thought that remained. He gave you a shy smile, “sorry, honey, I had to.”

“Don’t ever stop, Peter.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #tasm!peter #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x reader

[angelkhi]

having many thoughts about bodyguard!joel (f!reader) like maaaany. have em x (banner credits: @cafekitsune 🩷)

bodyguard!joel who wasn’t always on the straight and narrow and when an old contact calls in a favour he has no choice but to agree.

but imagine how pissed he’d be when he finds out he’s being payed to babysit a spoiled little daddy’s girl. he’s over it before he’s even started.

but then he meets her and she’s a ray of fucking sunshine and somehow that’s way worse for him.

he soon learns that when she wants to be a spoiled brat she lays it on thick.

his restraint is hanging on by a literal thread after a few days and if he sees her wondering around her apartment in nothing but a t-shirt, those tiny little sleep shorts and an attitude so help him god.

bodyguard!joel who goes to sleep half hard every night cause of the woman he’s meant to be protecting and he’s finding it harder and harder to not cross that line.

the only time he speaks is to give her orders and it’s barely a sentence but he’s so commanding it’s actually a crime.

bodyguard!joel who has no choice but to follow her around whilst she shops. forced to watch her deliberately pick out panties that look like pure sin. he can’t decide if he wants to stuff em in her mouth whilst he eats your pretty cunt or pull em to the side as he fucks her dumb.

car rides are literal torture. especially when he’s next to her in the back of one of her dad’s fancy new cars. he has to refrain from reaching over and pulling her into his lap each and every time.

him watching her get all dressed up for galas, knowing it’ll be wasted on little rich boys who wouldn’t know where to put their dick if they had a map.

joel being in a constant state of torture around her. when she’s so sickly sweet and he has to talk himself down from doing absolutely anything for her. or when she’s being bratty and he barely holds himself back from bribing her over his knee.

joel in an absolute frenzy when she’s in any kind of danger but no he has absolutely no romantic feeling for her (he’s so emotionally constipated it hurts)

her being an absolute angel and doing his laundry only to accidentally mix her underwear in with his clothes and now he has to decide if she really needs them back that bad.

he’s always close to her. always ready to step in if things go south. very very protective.

also kind of a gentleman even if he’s grumpy? pulling out her chair, holding open doors, etc etc. also he’s always guiding her. literally always. that man’s hand is superglued to her lower back.

joel helping her buckle up her heels, the slightest bit contact sending him literally insane. imagine him kneeling in front of her, catching a glimpse up the slit of her dress. mans finished.

him not being able to get through dinner without imagining her spread out on the table instead.

when he finds out she only acts up to get a rise out of him? restraint has disappeared. gone. poof.

bodyguard!joel finally getting his hands on her. brain literally shuts down he doesn’t know where to start. he just knows he’s not stopping til he’s had his fill. 100% overstimulates her til she’s almost crying.

he’s most definitely a switch fucking fight me.

i feel like when he’s in charge, he’s borderline mean, grabbing her jaw to make her look at him, gives major pleasure dom vibes. he 100% gets off on her getting off, also calling her names but the praise!!

“dumb baby” “my pretty little cockwhore” “look so good choking on my cock” “perfect little slut” okay shoot me

SO. POSSESSIVE. always reminding her who’s pussy it is his. always reminding her that her little rich boys couldn’t give her half of what he’s giving her.

naw but when she’s in charge my man whimpers and i’ll swear this in a court of law if i have to.

joel miller is a whimpering little bitch (but only for her) and she fucking loves it.

cause how can he go from being on the verge of tears as she teases him, riding his cock painfully slowly, to pulling her on top of him, fucking up into her until she’s dripping jon his thighs.

fave position is missionary (cause he’s in love) cause he loves watching her go from mouthy to absolutely fucked out. also he def loves her legs over his shoulders it’s just a fact.

A+++ aftercare. he’s got her rehydrated, running her baths with her favourite scents, all the cuddles. he babies you. but sure he’s definitely not in love with her.

bodyguard!joel is filthy and possessive but only wants the best for her, job be damned.

in conclusion

(half tempted to turn this into a full fic 👀)

#i’m going to sleep before i go insane #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us smut #tlou headcanons #joel miller headcanon #bodyguard!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader smut #bodyguard!joelhc

[syrupfog]

You walk into the small doctor’s office, cradling the arm you’re assuming is broken. You took a Lyft here because you sure aren’t going to pay for an ambulance and this place is supposed to be cheap when you don’t have insurance. There is a wholeass reindeer in the waiting room.

“Hello” says the wholeass reindeer. He’s cheerful. “Welcome! I’ll take you right back, how are you today?” 

“Uh,” you say. “Am I hallucinating?” 

“Hallucinating?!” The reindeer yelps, turning and skewering the wall with an antler. “Oh no! Someone should call a doctor!”

A bored voice calls from down the hall, “That’s you, Chopper.” 

“Oh right,” says the reindeer. “Yes! I’m the doctor! Don’t worry!” 

He leads you into a room and directs you to sit on the bed before going over to the desk and smashing his hooves against the open laptop.

As he is a wholeass reindeer, all he manages is to open the notes app and write “sbsickwnididevsha”, which autocorrects to “snicks a disk”. He closes the laptop. 

“Now,” he says, turning to you. “How can we help?” 

“Uh,” you say, unsure about this reindeer’s medical knowledge. “I think my arm is broken?” 

“Oh deer!” says the reindeer. “How’d that happen?” 

You don’t want to explain to this reindeer that you broke your arm at a too intense Zumba session, although you get the feeling he wouldn’t judge. “I fell,” you say instead. “Down the stairs.”

“How terrible!” The reindeer exclaims. “We’ll get that fixed right up for you, don’t worry!” 

He does some tests (tapping the arm with his hoof, singing it a little song, taking a picture with a Polaroid that ends up looking like an X-ray when developed??) and declares—

“Oh yes, our surgeon will be right in, just a moment.” 

…surgeon? 

The reindeer leaves and it really is only a moment until a man in a white coat and furry white hat walks in. 

He’s lanky. He walks in a slouch. He has more tattoos than you expect a surgeon to have, but you’ve never met a surgeon. 

Also he’s, like, smiling. A lot. 

“Broken bone, huh?” He says. You wonder if it’s normal for surgeons to carry six foot long swords. 

“Yeah,” you say, still cradling your arm. 

“Just the one? That’s too bad,” he says.

You disagree, but you keep that to yourself. 

The surgeon, who looks like he has not slept since entering medical school, flips a switch and the room is bathed in blue light. 

“This will hurt,” he tells you. “They say screaming is therapeutic, but it’s also annoying. Don’t.”

When you think about it afterward, you really question your memory. After all, you’ve never been to medical school but you’re pretty sure a surgeon isn’t supposed to cut your arm off with a sword, glue your bone back together with superglue, and then just sort of… smush your arm back on. 

Like. That can’t be what happened, right? 

The surgeon shakes your hand afterward. “That’ll be twenty,” he says. 

“Twenty… thousand?” You ask. 

He looks at you. He looks tired. “You don’t have twenty thousand,” he says. “Gimme twenty dollars or I’m sending penguin after you.” 

There’s a penguin here too? 

You give him thirty. It’s good to tip your surgeon. 

As you exit the doctor’s office, in the waiting room is a man in a straw hat, lounging across three chairs. He stares unblinkingly at you. As the surgeon walks out behind you, though, the man stands, knocking over FOUR chairs in the process. 

“Traffy!” He shouts. “Lunch date!” 

The surgeon hands him your cash. “On me,” he says.

As you open the Lyft app and cross your fingers it’s not surge prices, you test your arm. It really doesn’t SEEM broken anymore. 

Your hand does seem a little… backwards, though. 

Does that matter?

#my writing #trafalgar law #tony tony chopper #lulaw if u squint

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Family Dinner (College!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Family Dinner (Rated T)

Pairing: College!Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k+ (I got carried away)

Warnings: A few brief innuendos and Steve being a flirt. Nothing too crazy!

Summary: Stevemas Day 7- A continuation of Take Me Home for Christmas, you and Steve landed in your hometown and you're already dreading the first meeting between him and your parents. When the family dinner finally rolls around, the two of you are forced to confront your feelings due to a surprising question from your younger cousin.

“Steve, you don’t have to do this,” you glanced up at your boyfriend with the widest of pleading eyes you could muster. “You don’t have a hotel, you can just fly back to Hawkins and I’ll meet you there in a few days like we planned-”

“Babe,” Steve cut you off with a small smile. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a few days.” He let go of his suitcase handle to hold both of your arms rather gently. ”Besides, your family is the reason you’re in my life, so how bad can it be?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, the shrill sound of your mother’s familiar tone as it called your full name scraped its way into your eardrums. You winced at the volume and tried your best to hide yourself against Steve’s form. “Oh god,” you muttered in a tone only he could hear. “It’s only been a minute and I already want to go. Can’t we just hop on another flight?”

“Think it’s a little too late for that,” your boyfriend muttered back, a fake smile already plastered against his lips. As he let go of your arms, he slipped a hand around your waist, pulling your back against his chest ever so gently. “Just smile and wave; it’ll be over soon.”

A sigh escaped your lips and you shook your head subtly in protest. Oh, poor Steve. Poor sweet, innocent, incredibly charming Steve. If you had known he was coming before the flight, you would have been able to give him much more than the two hour breakdown on your family’s quirks you had given him during the journey. 

“Oh, there you are!!” your mother tutted. “My favorite child, my pride and joy-“

“Mom. I’m your only child.” You felt Steve try to hold back a laugh against your back. 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite.” The dazzling smile your mother beamed at you soon became rather discomforting. You knew that look; it was the look of first impressions. A trick she had taught you years ago, your mother knew the way to charm anyone or anything. Every time the holidays rolled around, you swore this expression was superglued to her face. The fact that Steve was here didn’t help matters much, either. 

Steve was new. Steve wasn’t like your other friends you had brought with you for the holidays. Considering you hadn’t even mentioned him to her, it was only natural your mother would be curious who this young man is with her child. 

“You must be Steve,” she said once she made eye contact. “We spoke on the phone.”

Your boyfriend smiled courteously before he reached out his free hand for her to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he spoke with an air of confidence, a tone he reserved for some of your stricter professors or advisors. It brought a smile to your face. Steve was trying to impress your parents. That had to mean something, right?

It was a minute before your father came to stand by your mother’s side. “We have get a move on if we want to beat the rush hour. It was already starting to back up when we were pulling into the parking lot.” When turned his head, you noticed the bulky black frame of his portable phone. “No, Jerry. We have to act now or else we’ll lose the sale.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Dad,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Steve subtly squeezed your hip with his hand before using his thumb to rub circles against the fabric of your shirt. Be calm, it said. You’re not alone with this anymore. I’m right here. 

“Merry Christmas, sir,” his voice came to your aid. “I’m Steve Harrington, I go to school with your-“

“Oh, right.” Your father adjusted the phone and reached a hand to shake Steve’s. “You’re the young man staying with us. Hope you were warned. The holidays around here…are known to be a bit…memorable.”

A light-hearted chuckle sounded from Steve’s throat. It was almost natural, as though it was something he was used to. Come to think of it, he probably was. Steve had told you about the Christmases of old: ones with fancy parties his parents would host for the snoots of hometown Hawkins. Steve knew how to play the part, almost as well as your parents. “So I’ve heard, sir.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

After driving back to the house, your mother had dragged your father out to the grocery store to pick up some extra ingredients for your great-grandma Agnes’ homemade stuffing. Your father fulfilled his societal obligation to frown upon the two of you being alone together in your room. You had playfully indulged him, arguing how you and Steve were both well into your twenties and were responsible adults. Besides, the spare guest bedroom was meant to be given to Aunt Ruth when her plane arrived the following morning. Steve couldn’t be expected to get a hotel room this close to the holiday! Unaware of what was actually happening, Steve had kindly offered to take the floor or the couch in order to respect everyone’s wishes. You wanted to kiss him senseless right then and there for his beautiful nature…maybe later. 

To be honest, the two of you were thankful for the reprieve. The entire ride to the house was full of questions, mostly directed toward you. How was school? Did you still like your major? How did you two meet? You had expected more intrusive questions, but you supposed the rest would come at the family dinner. 

Steve let out a low whistle as he set down yours and his luggage on the floor. He glanced around the pale colored walls and picture frames, a crooked smile plastered against his face. He was much more relaxed now that you were alone. This was the first time he would have a chance to learn more about your past. Steve certainly wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Your childhood bedroom wasn’t much, especially since it was mostly cleared out to fill your dorm, but it still told a story; a beautiful story of the person Steve had come to fall in love with so easily in such a short time. 

Photos of you and family were lined against the walls, mostly of you and your parents. Steve knew you had had a difficult relationship with your extended family— including your own parents. While you had been sure they meant well, you had always felt like the outcast, the one who never truly measured up to everyone’s expectations of you. As he looked at each picture, Steve felt his heart sink at the thought of a smaller you faking a smile for a picture before racing back to whatever book or song you were distracted with before. 

He wished your younger self had the smile he had tucked away in his wallet, a Polaroid he had swiped from Robin after the night he asked you out. You were laughing at something he had said. Granted, he was probably being incredibly pathetic, but you… you were really happy. Steve remembered how that day he decided your laugh was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, and he would do whatever it took to keep hearing it every day for the rest of his life. 

Each frame was hung in a particular pattern. It was clear to Steve that someone had taken great care to ensure perfection. That someone was most likely you, too. He had seen your shared dorm with Robin. While the adorable babbling musician’s side of the room was messy, yours was always kept tidy. He could hardly remember a time he’d seen something on the floor. Well, aside from that one time… Steve’s lips quirked into a smirk at the memory. 

“Nice room,” he commented, raising an index finger toward a peeling Care Bears poster. “Cute.”

He just about laughed at the way your eyes widened and you lunged to be in his field of vision. “That’s uh,” you stammered. “That’s really old.” 

Steve nodded slowly, a grin stretched across his features. “Sure it is, sweetheart,” he mused, taking a step forward to pull you back into his chest. He pressed a few kisses against your hairline. “I still think it’s adorable. Seeing you with all your little stuffed bears…”

“Stop itttt,” you whined, hiding your face deeper in his sweater. 

Steve in fact could not stop. “I bet you had like ten or twelve of ‘em and that you were even more adorable than you are now.”

Another groan escaped you as you attempted to get absorbed into his much taller frame. You could hear his heart thudding against his chest in a slow rhythm. Bum bum, bum bum, bum bum. Just hearing his heartbeat, feeling him close by, helped you to relax. It was silly, but you were more at home with Steve than you were in your childhood bedroom. 

“Can we take a nap?” your voice came out muffled from within the cotton material. After a multi-hour-long plane ride and a stressful first meeting, there was nothing you wanted more than to curl up with your boyfriend and become dead to the world. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Steve was a cuddler at night. Less of a guilty pleasure than a need, you secretly believed being held in his arms was the cure-all to everything. 

As usual, Steve was more than willing to accommodate your request. A grin stretched across his face and he wrapped his arms around your waist. “When’s the dinner?” he asked with a gentle kiss pressed to your temple. 

“Not for hours and hours,” you mumbled, voice thick with the need to sleep. Your fingers gripped into the material as you tried to physically phase yourself into your boyfriend. 

Steve’s chest expanded with a heavy sigh and he nodded. “Alright,” he agreed. “As long as your folks are alright with seeing us in the same bed. Don’t want to spend Christmas in the emergency room, babe.”

“They’ve seen worse.”

“...something you need to tell me about, sweetheart?” 

“Hm?” Your drowsy state didn’t help you recognize what you had shared with the boy before you. When he guided your head back gently to capture your gaze with his own, your brow wrinkled in confusion. Why was he looking at you like that? He looked worried, almost afraid even. Almost like he was afraid you were…

“OH!” you suddenly exclaimed. “Oh, oh, god no! No, it wasn’t me! It was my, uh, it was my cousin and his girlfriend. They had gotten a little too deep into the eggnog and decided my parent’s room would be a great spot for, uh, yeah.”

Steve blinked. “Well, that’s just stupid.” 

“Eggnog, Steve,” your tone was adamant. “Heavily spiked eggnog.”

“So stay away from the eggnog, then. Noted- oof.” The force of yours and Steve’s bodies made a soft thud as you caused the two of you to fall down onto the mattress. Your boyfriend gave a soft huff into the pillow he was now face down on. “Hey, what was that for?!”

“Shhh,” you said with a hum. “Sleep time, pretty boy.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

A few hours later, you woke up feeling much more refreshed and warm next to the boy you loved. Your lips twitched up into a fond smile as you took in the sight beside you. Steve was still passed out, muted snores escaping him every so often. He looked incredibly peaceful with the slight smile that seemed plastered to his face. A few stray hairs fell into his line of sight and you fought the urge to push them out of the way in fear of accidentally waking him up. 

As you watched him sleep just a bit longer, a warmth spread throughout your body. Butterflies fluttered about in your stomach and you began to wonder how you ended up in this situation. It almost seemed like something that could be written as one of those store-end-cap cheesy romance novels. Person A meets Person B, they fall in love, Person A surprises Person B on a plane on the way to meet Person B’s parents for Christmas. 

“Take a picture,” Steve croaked out in a hoarse sleep drunk tone, “it’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, already feeling the red hot flush as it made its ascent up your neck. “You know what they say, though. When you find good art, you take the time to appreciate it.”

“I’ve also heard that flattery gets you everywhere. How long did we sleep?”

You turned your head to glance over at the analog alarm clock perched on your old nightstand. It was almost six o’clock, meaning you had about…forty-five minutes to get ready for the most chaotic meal of your year. “A few hours,” you replied with a sigh. 

A swear escaped Steve’s lips. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”

“Nooo!” you playfully groaned as you flopped into him. You snuggled your face into his sweater again, hands sliding up his back underneath it. “We could just hide up here. ‘Sneak downstairs later to pick at some of the leftovers. Mom always ends up makin’ too much, anyway.”

“As tempting as it sounds, sweetheart,” Steve replied. “I want to make a good impression on your family. Something tells me the two of us staying up in your room all night might do just the opposite.”

You tried to reply by snuggling closer, but Steve was quicker. He scooted his way to the edge of the bed, hands pushing you gently back onto the mattress. With a stretch, he yawned and bent over to pick up the suitcase he packed. He tossed it haphazardly beside you and quickly unzipped it, pulling out the two dress shirts laid on top. The first shirt was a deep maroon with black buttons with thin horizontal white lines, one of your favorites on him. The other was a navy and grey checkered shirt you had only Steve wear for special occasions. Knowing that he selected it to bring and wear for your parents only made the warmth within you spread.

“Which one?” he asked you.

Without any hesitation, you sat up and raised an index finger toward the red shirt. “That one.”

Steve nodded at your choice, setting the other shirt back into the suitcase. He reached down to the hem of his sweater and began to lift it up off his form. You couldn’t help the stare that locked onto the skin which was slowly being revealed. When he noticed, Steve sent a wink your way. “Like what you see, babe?”

Just as you were about to answer, a barrage of knocks descended upon your door. “Dinner’s in thirty minutes!” your father’s voice boomed behind the wood. “Your mother needs help with the place settings and wrangling the kids into the dining room.”

You hung your head in exaggerated exasperation, eyes flickering back to Steve. He was attempting to smother a laugh at your expression. “Sure thing, Dad,” you called back. “Just need a minute.”

When you and Steve finally made your way downstairs, it looked as though a tornado had torn through the hallway. Backpacks, jackets, and diaper bags littered the floors and coat hangers. Several pairs of shoes were left as a heap in favor of sliding on the hardwood floors with socks. You managed to avoid having a head-on collision with your nine-year-old cousin, Alexandra, as she slid by. 

Steve, on the other hand, was not as lucky. 

“Oof,” your boyfriend exclaimed as he quickly reached down to secure the girl who had collided into him. “Are you okay?”

Your cousin merely blinked. “You’re new,” she said flatly. “Who are you?”

“Alex-” you started. 

“No, no. It’s alright, babe. I got this.” Steve waved at you with a small smile. He glanced down at the young girl before him. “I’m your cousin’s boyfriend.”

Alexandra crossed her arms and cocked a hip, eyes locked onto yours with a raised eyebrow. “You,” she said, “have a boyfriend?”

You shifted your weight side to side, left hand coming up to rub against your right arm. Sure, you knew the second you saw Steve on the plane that things were going to be even more eventful at this year’s Christmas dinner. The last thing you expected, though, was for your cousin to be the first to question your new relationship. Over the years, she had been less than supportive of your dating life, once she learned what dating was about. Every single date you had needed to pass Alex’s test – they had to be worthy enough.

Lucky for you, Steve was quick to jump to your defense. “Sure does,” he replied as he sidled over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. A gentle press of his lips to your temple was enough for you to melt against his frame. “Somehow I managed to snag a date with this one over the semester.”

“So you go to the same school?” Alexandra questioned.  

Steve nodded and gave a gentle squeeze against your hip. “Her roommate is my best friend. Well, second best friend, if you ask this kid- Dustin Henderson. He’s staked some claim to the title, which I admit is pretty weird, but he’s a pretty cool kid-”

“Steve.” You raised a hand to place atop the arm he still had wrapped around you. When he turned his head to look at you, you could see the warmth and love in his eyes. Steve hardly ever rambled. It was a behavior reserved for moments when he was stressed or nervous. Apparently Alex had that effect on everyone she stared down. You reached up to brush his hair back in an attempt to calm him down. He immediately turned into putty in your hands, eyes closed briefly and a soft hum sounding from his throat. 

“Do you love each other?” Alexandra’s voice shattered through the magic of the moment, eyes trained solely on Steve. It caused the older boy to waver, eyes flickering between you and the small girl who challenged his existence. 

Your own breath caught in your throat. The two of you had hardly reached the title stage of your relationship. Sure, you admired the boy who had stolen your heart. You’d probably even go as far as to say you were in love with everything he did. But the question became: did he feel the same? It wasn’t something you wanted to push him into, especially not by means of a nine-year-old. What if this scared him off? What if he broke up with you right then and there, before Christmas? What if-

“‘Course we do,” Steve responded before placing a kiss on your cheek. “Your cousin is my person. And I think we all need a person, even you little miss...”

“Alexandra,” your cousin said as she held out her hand. “But you can call me Alex.”

Steve leaned down to shake her hand firmly. “Pleasure to meet you, Alex,” he said. “My name’s Steve.”

“Welcome to the family, Steve.”

Your boyfriend smiled and glanced back at you. His face was the epitome of happiness in that exact moment. Even without being able to see it, you knew that your own expression mirrored his emotions. This Christmas, the two of you had each other. Despite the rest of the chaos which ensued throughout the remainder of the evening, including your grandmother’s insistence on you retelling how the two of you met, it was one of the best dinners of your life. 

“Hey, uh, Steve,” you stuttered out when you had led him into a quiet corner of the house. You had hoped to speak to him sooner, but given the commotion of multiple little kids and gossiping family members, it proved to be more of a challenge than you anticipated. 

“Yeah?” he asked, concern etched upon his features. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! No, uh, yeah, everything’s fine!” you replied, hands reaching for his own. “I just wanted you to know that, uh, you’re mine, too.”

Steve knit his eyebrows together. “What?”

“My person, I mean. I, uh, I think of you as my person, too.”

A soft ‘oh’ left Steve’s lips as he let his hands drop down to your sides. His thumbs rubbed circles above the fabric of your shirt and he stepped closer. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t long or messy, just a silent promise of many Christmas dinners and plane rides to come. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered against your mouth.

You grinned as you pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Merry Christmas, Steve.” 

==============

Author's Note: I couldn't resist. After writing the first part, I needed to write the second part where Steve met your family. I'm a serious sucker for Hallmark movie trope stories and I feel Steve is just the best character to use for these situations. This fic is significantly longer than most of the others in this event, but we can consider this a bit of a consolation for the missed day on the 17th. College AU Steve is actually pretty fun to write for...maybe we should do a part 3 where we travel back to Hawkins. What does everyone think?

If you enjoyed this story, please make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, or reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's interactions like these that not only help spread the word about my work, but give me the motivation to keep producing content like this for you all! For more updates on Stevemas and to make sure you never miss a post, maybe consider following my blog! I promise I won't spam with anything other than amazing authors' works :)

Until next time, my little sparks! <3

Taglist; @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joe keery imagines #joe keery #twelve days of stevemas #ficmas 2022 #frostandflamesfanfic #fluff

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

It's Alive!

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 552

Summary: Dieter plays Frankenstein with his daughter

Warnings: toddler mishaps, misuse of superglue, lots of fluffy adorableness at the end

Check out masterlist here

The end of the workday was something you looked forward to. You couldn’t wait to go home to a loving husband and adorable daughter. Except today took and unexpected detour. Your phone rang as soon as you had gotten into your car.

“Hey Dieter.”

“Hey, honey cakes, promise me you won’t panic.”

“You know saying that is going to make me worry.”

He sighed, “Well, I’m in the hospital.”

“You’re what?”

“Cupcake and I-she’s fine. Clara is completely fine.”

You let out a sigh of relief but then remembered there was still news.

“So cupcake and I were playing Frankenstein, you know the black and white Universal Studio version.”

“Let me guess, you were Boris Karloff?”

“Yeah, and she wanted to make me into a monster the way you turn people into monsters…” You dreaded where this was going.

“I have no idea how she managed it, but she got her hands on some superglue.”

Clearly, you there were still a few places you had to childproof and you facepalmed at the thought.

“How bad is it?” you asked.

“Wait a minute.”

You heard the ping of an impending message. It was a picture of Dieter all covered in green face paint and various bits of rubbish were glued in strategic places over his face and body.

“She did a pretty good job actually.”

“I rang Adrién for help,” Dieter continued. “They couldn’t manage to get anything off so now I’m waiting for professionals to remove them at the hospital. I’ll need a long shower when I get back,” he sighed which was laced with sadness.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was frustrated and I…I didn’t mean to, but I raised my voice at Clara and now I’ve upset her.”

“It’s probably just a shock as it never happens.”

“Yeah but I hate that and if she now thinks I hate her and if she gets scared of…”

“She’ll never be scared of you,” you firmly reassured him. “I’ll talk to her.”

You walked down the hallway of the hospital where you found Clara, still dressed in her mad scientist outfit, curled up in a chair looking glum.

“Dieter is the other room waiting to be taken home. I tried to tempt the little miss with treats but she’s not up for anything at the moment.” You thanked Adrién then turned to comfort your daughter.

“Daddy mad, now we can’t play Frankie-stein anymore.”

“Oh pumpkin,” you knelt down to be eye level with her. “Daddy’s not made at you. You remember when the creature first woke up, he was confused and a little scared. That’s how daddy felt.”

“So not mad?”

“No, just scared,” you moved now to cuddle her close. “But next time you want to play Frankenstein, you’ll need an assistant.”

She looked up at you with those puppy dog eyes she could only have gotten from her father, “You be Igor?”

“Yes, I’ll be Igor. And we’ll make a very nice creature together.”

That cheered her up immensely so you both went into the room to collect Dieter. Naturally, he had fallen asleep waiting. His face still had green painted on it so when you gently shook his leg, he woke up with a bolt sitting upright making an almost animalistic groan, almost like in the film.

“It’s alive! It’s alive!”

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187 @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter x honey cakes #love of horror fanfic #love of horror #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #the bubble netflix #the bubble

[torture-themed]

Self-Indulgent Hero x Villain Caretaking Fluff

A vignette featuring my favorite couple to write. I have more set in this universe, we'll see if it's worthy of uploading

content: hero x villain, blood/bleeding, reopened wound, hidden injury, dubious caretaker (she's mostly good), fade to black, use of the word "whore" (not derogatory)

Micheal Moriarty was bleeding. There was blood on his shirt, and the bedsheets, and even on his pillow. He must have reopened his wound in his sleep. He groaned, careful not to wake his sleeping wife next to him. The last thing he wanted was to bother her.

Mike pulled back the covers and slipped silently out of bed. He’d nearly slipped past his wife when a hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed his wrist.

“Ariel, I’m just going to pee.” He said, loudly enough that she could hear him without her hearing aids. Ariel sat up, her dark eyes focused on his stomach. 

“No you’re not. I smell blood. Did you ruin the sheets?” She demanded.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’m–ack!” Ariel shot forward and jabbed two fingers into his wound. She pulled away and inspected the blood on her fingers.

“Just going to pee?” She wiped the blood off on the sheets. “You were always bad at treating wounds. What, did you use superglue? Come on.” Before Mike could protest, Ariel dragged Mike into their little en suite bathroom. She’d always been stronger than him, and he did not put up a fight.

Ariel pulled up her husband’s shirt to inspect the wound. It wasn’t too deep or too long, but it was bleeding profusely. Whatever bandages he had put on had apparently slipped off in bed.

“If I didn’t know the answer I’d ask if you were blind. What the hell is this? Who cut you?” Ariel demanded. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out gauze. Ariel began to bandage the wound, pressing on it to make him wince.

“Pinpoint. They threw a ninja star at me. A ninja star! Where do they get this stuff? They threw five of them at me and only grazed me once. The Bay’s best superhero, my ass.” Mike was rambling, he couldn’t help it. How was he meant to keep his composure when his wonderful wife had her hands all over him? 

Ariel smiled. She’d finished wrapping the wound and was just running her hands over her husband’s torso. Mike quickly caught on and caught her hands. He brought them to his mouth and kissed them. The humidity in the small room raised with Ariel’s excitement.

“Love, stop that. You’ll make it rain in the bathroom again. We can’t have sex anyway, the bed’s full of blood.” Mike said. He pressed kisses up Ariel’s arm, stopping at her cheek. She grabbed him and kissed him on the mouth.

“Is the self-proclaimed ‘city’s biggest whore’ going to let that stop him? You’re a coward.” Ariel grabbed Mike by the hips and dragged him back to bed. “Come on, I’ll make you really hurt.”

Mike laughed and collapsed into the bloody bed with his beloved wife. He’d bleed some more before the night was out, and the pair would find his old bandages at the worst possible moment, but for now the two were simply lost in bliss.

#it isn't clear in the story but Mike is blind #whump #whump writing #whump story #superhero whump #hero x villain #villain whumpee #whumpee #caretaker x whumpee #evergreen bay #this is the setting of the masks games I'm running #the result of years of worldbuilding

[ifihadaworldofmyown]

Super7 Disney Ultimates Wave 2: Alice figure review

Back in June 2021, I pre-ordered Super7′s Alice figure. Yesterday, it finally came in after numerous delays. Was it worth the wait?

It pains me to report that the final product turned out to be a huge disappointment. For starters, here’s what the figure looks like as advertised on Super7′s website.

And here’s the actual figure...

Did I get a bootleg? Nope. This is the real deal. As you can see, the figure looks nowhere near as good as what was advertised on the site.

I actually broke off one of her legs by accident trying to get her out of the plastic casing; I have since superglued it back on so she now has one immovable leg. Not that it matters, since the articulation on her limbs is less than stellar overall. The legs can barely be moved to different positions, so you can’t really put her in a sitting position for example. Her arms fare only a little better, as they can be moved up and down at the base. However, you can really have them stretch out to the sides much.

As you can see, there are accessories, such as additional heads, hands, the Drink Me bottle, Dinah, the glasses bird, and a shrunken Alice. I’ve only switched her neutral face with the more surprised face since I think the latter is the “best”-looking of the three. It’s not by a wide-margin though, as none of the faces are anywhere near as good as what was in the promo images. And after accidentally breaking off one of her legs, I’m too intimidated to try messing with her hands for fear of damaging the figure further. Her long hair prevents her head from moving in just about any direction, so you more or less have to move her upper torso in order to make her look in different directions.

Posting a back view of the figure for comparison with the previous image. The skirt and petticoat are cloth. There’s a velcro patch on the skirt near the ribbon, although the skirt is more or less attached to the waist. As for what’s under the skirt...

“Just look at those stems!”

“Rather scrawny I’d say.”

Sorry, I couldn’t resist making that reference. Anyway, yes, she does have sculpted bloomers. While I appreciate the attention to detail, it does present problems with regards to articulation. The frills on her bloomers make it impossible to move her legs into different positions (she can’t kneel for example). They also gave her unusually-pronounced buttocks for some reason, maybe to help with leg articulation (not that it helped at all)? Still, it’s kind of an awkward detail. >_>

The petticoat has a wire in it making it possible to flatten the skirt out or move it into more of a bell shape like in the movie. Having two layers of petticoats does seem a little excessive though.

Another big problem is the feet. I feel like this is an issue with my figure specifically (I’ve seen YouTube videos covering the figure that feature ones with functional feet), as the right foot is bent at an angle making it impossible for her to stand.

With very little articulation and a dodgy design, it’s a big disappointment as an action figure. I’ve heard some people say it looks worse than Super7′s April O’Neil figure, but I wouldn’t quite go that far. Still at the $50-60 range, this figure is way too expensive for what it actually offers. Overall, I’d have to give it a 3/10. I definitely will not be buying the Mad Hatter, Queen of Hearts, or any other hypothetical Alice-related figures from Super7 in the future. Super7 in general has gotten a lot of criticism for lack of quality control and stretching their resources too far with too many licensed IPs.

#Alice In Wonderland #1951 #Disney #super7 #action figure

[the-widow-sisters]

“You’ll have a hard time believing this because it never happens, but I made a mistake.”

With Nakia and Kamala?

A/N: Thank you so, so much for this request! These two are such a fun pair and it's always a wild ride when they're getting into stuff 😂💖💖💖

I'm slowly trying to crank up the inspiration again 😅 I've actually added some new oneshot prompts to the list here if y'all want to check them out!

I hope y'all enjoy!

Word Count: 1.1k+

   “So, um,” Kamala trailed off, interrupting the comfortable silence between her and her best friend. Nakia looked up from where she was currently lounged on Kamala’s bed.

   Kamala and her had been hanging out in Kamala’s room, and while Nakia was peacefully reading a book, Kamala was over at her desk doing something with her little paper models that she used to make her YouTube fan videos.

   Up until now they had been mostly silent, only interrupting each other for the occasional weird thought or small conversation, and they had mostly just been enjoying each other’s company in the unspoken manner that only the best of friends could.

   “You’ll have a hard time believing this because it never happens, but I made a mistake,” Kamala nervously laughed, and Nakia raised an eyebrow as she regarded the other girl.

   “Not that hard of a time—”

   “Hey!” Kamala cried, offended at Nakia’s unashamed lack of faith or perhaps show of faith in the wrong area.

   “But what did you do?” Nakia questioned, slightly amused and rather unimpressed as she eyed Kamala and patiently awaited her words.

   Kamala instantly shifted uncomfortably, and Nakia could not help the slight worry rising up. She was not sure if this was a superhero screw-up or just a regular Kamala mistake. The latter Nakia could likely give some advice on, but the former was something that Nakia was not entirely sure she could help with.

   It was unlikely that it was a superhero problem, but sometimes Kamala waited longer than she should have to share problems to do with her superhero side. So truly, Nakia had no idea what was about to come out of the girls’ mouth.

   “Umm… I might’ve accidentally superglued my phone to my desk,” Kamala admitted, and Nakia froze for just a moment, staring at Kamala as she took in her words.

   After just a moment, Nakia started to laugh, the mirth bubbling in her chest as relief gripped her.

   “Don’t laugh,” Kamala practically whined, and Nakia shook her head, barely managing to hold back the laughter as she moved off the bed and approached the desk where Kamala had been working.

   She soon spotted Kamala’s phone laying face down on the desk.

   “Is the screen stuck to the desk or just the case?” Nakia asked, and Kamala sighed.

   “I don’t know… The case comes up above the screen a little so if the superglue touched anything, it was probably just the case. Hopefully,” Kamala rubbed her head, letting her cheek rest in her hand as she propped herself up.

   “Did you look up how to get superglue off of surfaces?” Nakia asked. Despite how unlikely it was, Nakia figured that she would check to see if Kamala might have researched any potential answer before she had announced her phone’s plight to her.

   “No… My phone’s stuck face-down to the desk,” Kamala stated plainly, and Nakia huffed, raising an eyebrow as she looked pointedly at the computer on the desk.

   “Can you look up how to get superglue off of surfaces?”

   “I can’t look up stuff without my phone,” Kamala whined, and Nakia rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

   “There’s a computer right here,” Nakia told her, gesturing to it, and Kamala shook her head.

   “I don’t mess with my computer while I’m working with superglue,” she explained, and Nakia sighed, shaking her head.

   “Maybe you shouldn’t mess with your phone either,” Nakia pointed out, and Kamala groaned, completely unimpressed with Nakia’s astute observations surrounding Kamala’s own poor choices. Nakia shrugged.

   “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, my dude,” Nakia stated wisely, and Kamala chose not to grace that with a response. Nakia pulled out her own phone, and Kamala started to reach for it with her free hand that was not holding her head up. Nakia moved her hand away from Kamala, keeping her from grabbing her phone.

   “Oh, no, you don’t. I don’t want you putting some spell on mine, too,” Nakia informed her, and Kamala just let out a loud and long noise of whining protest. Nakia ignored her whines, looking at her phone carefully as she looked up what would dissolve superglue.

  Finally, she got some results, and she read through a few of them, checking that the information on the first search result was accurate before she committed.

   Once she got her answer, she put her phone away. She looked down at Kamala and the girl was just gazing up at her with a terrible pouty face. Nakia shook her head with a small chuckle, placing her hand on Kamala’s head before letting it fall away. She then headed over to the bed to put the hijab back on.

   “Where are you going?”

   “I’m going to the dollar store to get some nail polish remover. Turns out that acetone can dissolve superglue,” Nakia explained simply. Kamala sighed unhappily for what seemed like the thousandth time.

   “I think I’m a grade A screwer-upper,” Kamala declared.

   Nakia laughed, grinning widely despite her best efforts to try to be sympathetic to Kamala’s rather humorous plight.

   “No. You’re just a little ditzy.”

   Kamala instantly gasped in offense, not bothering to look at Nakia in the midst of her own self-pity and embarrassment about this whole thing. Instantly, Nakia almost laughed.

   “Ditzy?! Bro!” she cried, and Nakia hummed as she finished putting on the hijab.

   “I have to call them like I see them, Kamala,” she replied simply, and Kamala grumbled under her breath.

   Nakia started out the door and she paused just before shutting it behind her.

   “I’ll be back,” she told her, trying to earn a smile by doing a poor impression of the Terminator despite the fact that neither of them had ever seen the movie. The reason it meant so much to the both of them was that Bruno had been somewhat into those films and had started quoting them in a terrible version of the Terminator’s voice.

   Kamala huffed, grinning a little despite her attempts to remain sour, and Nakia flashed her a wide smile before shutting the door behind her and heading down the stairs.

   However, as she was about halfway down them, Kamala suddenly yelled.

   “Nakia?!”

   “Yeah?!” Nakia replied, raising her voice a bit to be heard by the other girl from where she had shut herself in her bedroom.

   “Buy a lot of acetone!” Kamala told her.

   Nakia was silent for a few beats, uncertain of why exactly she needed to buy a lot.

   “Why?!”

   There were several moments of quiet, but then Kamala called back to her hesitantly, her voice smaller than it had been before.

   “Because… Well, because my hand’s stuck to my face…”

   Nakia immediately burst into loud laughter.

#nakia bahadir #kamala khan #ms. marvel #ms marvel #bruno carrelli #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #superglue #friendship #platonic relationships #platonic

[cyanophore-fiction]

You chose dare!

Give us a one-shot of Coyote and Pala where they are adopted by a current-day group of humans and their roomba. (assume they aren't being actively hunted at the moment)

Hi! I've been off for a few days, but I liked this prompt a lot. Thank you so much! Here's what I've got:

Things Are Okay

At first, Iris wouldn’t even stay in the same room as Coyote. Its initial attempts at establishing contact with her were abject failures. Squatting on its haunches, perfectly motionless with one hand extended toward her in greeting, Coyote would watch her reaction. Her behavior was remarkably consistent if uninterrupted:

Visual contact → halt all motion → standby for approximately three to six seconds → lower body closer to floor, preparing to bolt if necessary. After another eight to twelve seconds, she would take her chances and trot away, keeping her eyes on Coyote until line of sight was obstructed. Effective threat response, but if the intent was to reduce the chance of detection by staying motionless, she really shouldn’t swish her tail around. 

Coyote hadn’t meant to cause her stress, but it did so by simply existing in her territory. Pala elicited much less of a response, probably because it and Iris were about the same size. Coyote also guessed that Iris’s pattern recognition software probably had a better idea what to make of Coyote’s humanoid chassis than Pala’s arthropod design. She absolutely knew what to make of Coyote’s serrated teeth, so it made sure to keep its mouth sealed when she was nearby. 

Now, a few months after initial contact, she was purring in its lap. Coyote used a blanket to provide a soft surface for her to rest on—cermet armor was less than inviting. It reached down, claws covered by soft plastic caps, and pressed into the white fur around her ears. She pushed her head up into Coyote’s hand, eyes sliding shut, and stretched her forelegs out. A pang of anxiety registered as she did so, but Coyote forced the warning aside. Its claws were capped. The reticle over its vision confirmed that the flechette gun behind its palm was unloaded, the action locked open. Iris was safe.

Maya was across the room, reading in an armchair. Lowering her book, she watched, raising a mug of tea to her lips.

“She’s taken a liking to you,” she said.

“She has,” said Coyote. “Goes both ways.”

They sat for a while, listening to the rain against the window panes. Coyote looked out into the wall of green outside. Elms and pines rose above the undergrowth, leaves dark and wet. “Taking some time for the kids to get back today,” it said. “I can’t get a lock on Sanvi’s phone.”

“You more or less told her you could track it. As long as it’s on.”

Coyote paused. Cocked its head and smiled a little. “Oh. I get it.”

“The buses run slower in this weather. They’re okay.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?” she said, smiling. “Worrying about my daughter?”

“Not exactly used to safety yet,” it said. 

Pala’s signal was moving nearby, coming down the stairwell. It came into view as it reached the landing above the living room. On the step above it was the roomba, whirring along quietly. An antenna had been added to the roomba, held in place by superglue and a few wires running into the casing. Coyote heard a series of radio commands leap from Pala to the roomba. The machine turned, rolling neatly onto Pala’s back, and it transferred the machine to the next step down. Each time it finished sweeping a step, Pala repeated the process. 

[Having fun?] Coyote said. 

[This machine serves my inexorable will. I’m its god,] Pala said. [Yeah, it’s pretty okay.]

[That’s good.]

[I have a confession to make.]

[Let’s hear it.]

[You know the Millers?]

[Yeah. Patricia and Henry Miller, live next door at 202. Why?]

[Almost all of their appliances have wireless control.]

Coyote turned, glanced at Pala. [You didn’t.]

[No. But I could.] Pala said.

[We really need to find you something to do on a daily basis.]

[Oh, is that right? You and the cat still on the same nap schedule?]

[Excuse me, I’ll have you know I did a bang-up job of cleaning the gutters.]

[Records indicate that task took you thirty minutes.]

[True. Yeah, we could both use a little—]

“What are you two talking about?” Maya asked.

“Sorry,” said Coyote and Pala, their electronic voices in uncanny unison. Their entire radio conversation had taken place in less than six seconds. Over the past few months, Coyote and Pala had become more accustomed to the format of each other’s thoughts, and Coyote had even installed sections of Pala’s bleeding-edge operating system into itself. The new software made it feel as though its mind was oiled, free from inefficiencies that it didn’t even realize were there.

“It’s alright, I’d just like to be in the loop,” said Maya. 

“Kind of thinking about where we go from here,” said Pala, deactivating the roomba. 

“You and your family have been really kind to us,” Coyote said. “I’ve said it before, but we can’t thank you enough for taking us in. It just feels wrong to sit around here doing nothing.”

“Doing nothing?” Maya said, raising her eyebrows. “The two of you cook, you clean, you tutor the girls, you run errands, you can fix just about anything, and you don’t cost us a dime. Electricity, maybe, but the bill has barely changed. We’re more than happy to have you.”

Coyote cocked its head. It hadn’t considered that any of those tasks constituted actual work. They were just routines it followed, motions performed day in and day out. None of them required significant processing power or placed any strain on its components. 

“Are you thinking of leaving?”

“I don’t think so. Not sure where we’d go.” 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. At this point, the girls would be heartbroken. If you’re having trouble finding work, maybe I can help. What are you interested in doing?”

Maya made the remark offhandedly, but the effect on Coyote was profound. Its sensory fins slowly rose, and it stared at her. It and Pala could seek employment, have a career—that was an option. Presented with the concept now, it was shocked that something so obvious had escaped it. Once the dam was cracked, everything that her suggestion entailed also made itself clear. 

Survival was no longer a question. It was assumed. In the absence of that overriding objective, new ones could be defined. They could find a pursuit they loved and follow it. They could find something they didn’t really love, and pursue it anyway because it was rewarding, profitable, necessary, or whatever the hell else. They could seek interesting challenges, or education, or to benefit others.

Coyote realized that Maya probably expected them to explain what was stopping them. Of course the prospect would have occurred to the pair of spirits she had offered shelter to, but some obstacle must be holding them back. Of course there would be something they wanted, something they were interested in. It was just something that people did. 

The corollary to that: Maya truly and implicitly thought of them as people. 

Maya looked on, brows knitting together with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything’s okay,” Coyote finally said. It glanced at Pala, who was also silent. In its lap, Iris made a purring sound and nuzzled its claws. “I just don’t think we’ve ever been asked that question.”

#answered #ask games #science fiction #coyote and pala #writeblr

[iceblastersdenofstuff]

In October I bought the Modiphius Fallout Wasteland Warfare Hoover Dam Bundle + Starter Set. In that time out of about 36 minis I have assembled 8

Of that eight I broke -or in one case trimmed to much peg pending a fix on my end- three models, one I repaired, two remain in limbo of if I want to fix…

I don’t enjoy building these things. I don’t want to paint. I want to get them built and give the game at least a go or two before I decide if I like it or if these will be p nice display pieces.

I can’t get past both my anxieties of ruining more and the sheer fact that I just

Don’t like building them. Day one, I put together five. It took six hours. Both due to interruptions and perhaps a bit too cautious waiting for superglue to dry.

Regardless. I did not enjoy the majority of the building only feel small satisfaction when I was done and could put the assembled minis into a safe space so they don’t get ruined.

Why do people enjoy this?

I don’t have good hands. My hands aren’t shaky but I just don’t have the control over them that it feels like you need to get things aligned even with just dry fitting.

Two handed poses are out of the question of even finding satisfying to make.

One model the barrel of their weapon snapped because while getting things fit just right it snapped off during the superglue pressing phase and rip I guess they have a sawn of barrel now. Fuck me.

And I fucking HATE the one legged poses with a passion. They’re all one legged so there’s more pressure on that one leg standing up to being pressed at almost certainly an odd angle due to the reason for the post almost certainly being a dynamic pose.

And whoops 2/3 of the broken models I have broke at the leg bc I had to press them as just the right angle to stand at the required post whilst also not getting my fingers stuck to the model.

And people tell me *I’m* doing it wrong. I followed all the guides. I just don’t have the dexterity.

I would gladly pay extra for pre assembled models. I like how these things look. I just wish I didn’t have to put them together :/

#rambling #wargaming #miniature assembly #fallout wasteland warfare

[sensibledecay]

i’ve been ravaging my fingernails, my cuticles, and the skin on my fingers since before i can remember. as a child, my mother yelled at me and begged me and punished me to try and kick this habit. for a couple months in elementary school, she painted my fingernails twice a week as incentive not to pick. the iridescent purple flakes looked prettier strewn across my bedroom carpet. she took me to the nail salon a few times when i was young. that kind of worked, except they never did my nails right, and i always hated how they looked. one week in middle school, she made me wear finger sleeves on my thumbs, the target of my most frenzied flesh-tearing. i still sometimes notice the odd shape of my thumbs and wonder if i damaged them when i was young. after enough punishment and humiliation, my mother and i finally found a solution that worked for both of us. every two weeks, i glued fake nails to my fingers, glue and nails found at the end of the makeup section in the walmart down the street. twelve when i first started this ritual, doing my nails became a built-in part of my beauty routine. i was known for always having fun nails, honing the gluing process over time to extend each set’s lifespan from two to almost five weeks, depending on how much i used my hands. for the rest of middle school and all of high school, my friends would pull the nail glue out of my bag and superglue their fingers together, or my laptop to the desk, or write in glue on their notebooks. many a time, i would lose a nail on the walk to class and trek back through the halls, examining the floor for the shard of plastic. when i finally got the gluing process down to a science, my nail choices became increasingly funky. i’ve opted for a long coffin style since i was maybe sixteen, only deviating for a can’t-miss stiletto design. always long, always ornate. the nails didn’t get any shorter in my two-and-a-half year relationship with a woman, and many a joke was made about my nails being the straightest thing about me. however, i never really kicked the habit of picking at the skin around my nails. anyone who knows me well can tell how stressful my week has been from how intact my finger skin is, with especially bloodied picking-sprees a common occurrence when i don’t have anything else to do with my frantic hands. when i was little, i really believed that i’d grow out of this habit at some point, but every time i take off my nails to change them, i bite off the new growth immediately. i tear at the dry edges of my skin and peel until i’m bleeding, not noticing until i look down from the tv. i glue lost nails back into place immediately, unable to resist the opportunity to rip my nails apart otherwise. recently, i had to remove my nails for a surgery, told that they would interfere with some kind of pulse tracking machine. in the twenty-four hours that i could use my fingertips, it felt like sensations were enhanced tenfold. by the end of the day, my fingertips were sore from overuse, probably because the skin has barely been touched for ten years. despite the joy of typing with upright fingers and being able to nimbly button my pants, i missed my nails. i tore at the skin on my fingers more that day than in months. my real nails were too sharp, and too bendy, and i couldn’t scratch properly, or run my fingers through my hair without making it dirty. i realized my body was so used to having long nails that i would stop short of scratching my face. it’s been about two weeks now, and the skin on my fingers is all healed. i still idly pick at the dry spots, but the clear, pearl-adorned coffin nails on each finger can’t make cuts as efficiently as the nails below them. for some reason, i always thought this anxious habit would melt away with age, but i guess i’ve just put a permanent sleeve on each finger this whole time, letting my bouncing legs and twisting rings take the place of my bloodied cuticles.

[angelspenance]

I love making good investments

#hfksjfjkddk I can’t believe I own an anime figurine now. but for u Homura 💝 #thank god it came with extra hands bc one of the joints snapped when I was getting off the plastic BUT. #pliers can get out the bit of plastic & superglue can reunite the two ❤️ #and I have a madohomu wallet. fhsjkdk I didn’t even take a pic of my poster #but like yes.... I have a Her now :) #cath.txt

[cottonkendi]

I'll Still Love You

MASTERLIST

Haitani Ran x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Established relationship, Fluff

Warning: Kinda spoilers? Cursed words

Synopsis: A very distressed Ran.

a/n: I'm having way too much fun with the Kakucho incident and Ran :(( also, this is in the same timeline as 'Let's Break Up' but this is a few years after and you really don't have to know what happens in LBU. (I didn't think that I liked Ran this much until I started writing for him :(( )

“It’s an emergency! Come quick!”

Those were the only words that Ran shouted at you through the phone before hanging up.

Honestly, if you had only trusted your instincts and ignored your boyfriend’s very distressed and urgent sounding call, then you wouldn’t be standing in your bathroom right now.

A pair of scissors and a razor in hand.

With a pale looking Ran with his baton stuck to his hair.

He can barely look himself in the mirror, eyes almost tearing up whenever he catches a glimpse of his baton that’s unfortunately superglued to his long and thick hair. You almost wince when he tries to pull on the stick once more, a whimper of pain leaving his lips a few seconds after gently tugging on his weapon.

Turning to you, he almost collapses onto your arms, a whine leaving his lips when you pushed him away, afraid that you’d accidentally stab him with the scissors on your hand.

“What am I going to do?! There’s a meeting later at 5 and we have a date by 7! I can’t go around with my baton glued to my hair!” He wails, hands a little sweaty as he grasps your arm. You can only roll your eyes, already having had enough of this conversation after he had repeatedly told you the exact same words earlier.

You cross your arms, careful to not hurt yourself with the very sharp razor and scissors. “I already told you. I’ll cut your hair real nice, I took some classes back in highschool.”

He tries to shake his head, giving you puppy eyes but you know that this is the only option for him right now.

It’s just turning 4pm and you know that there’s no way you can salvage the locks that have been superglued to his baton, courtesy of a very pissed off Rindou.

Besides, you’ve already been thinking of a short haired Ran for awhile now, the curiosity fueling you to search up a few short hair styles a few days ago after imagining your boyfriend with shorter hair. So, you don’t really see this as a loss to you. Though Ran thinks otherwise as he almost falls to the floor of the bathroom, hands clutching his dyed locks as he dramatically wails by your feet, shaking his head side to side to show you just how much he hates the idea of cutting his hair.

“No no no no no no no!! I won’t let you cut my hair! Never! No! You’ll just have to help me untangle all of it!” He glares up at you, violet eyes side-eyeing the tools that you’re holding, teeth gritted as he slowly starts to meticulously try to remove his hair from the superglued baton. But alas, none of his hair is getting any less tangled, not when the whole length of the baton is covered with superglue. He can barely remove a strand without wincing in pain.

Ever so gently, you crouch down in front of him, setting your ‘weapons’ beside you as you cup his heated cheeks. The way he looks at you with genuine tears makes you feel bad for how you’ve been pressuring him to let you cut his hair for at least 20 minutes now.

“Ran, darling, I really think that we need to cut your hair. I’m not making fun of you anymore, please. We won’t make it in time for the meeting nor the date if we just sit here on the bathroom floor and try to remove your hair, strand by strand, from your baton.” You say, voice as gentle as can be as you stare at his teary violet eyes.

Your thumb gently caresses his cheeks, heart breaking when a tear slips from his eyes as he also stares at you.

He doesn’t reply to your words, just continuing to stare at you, but the way his tears are starting to accumulate and fall down his cheeks is making you panic and very concerned. Not sure if you’ve unknowingly pushed him past his limits.

“Darling... why won’t you tell me why you don’t want to cut your hair so much? I’ll try to understand, I won’t judge you. Just tell me, okay?” Ever so gently, you move your hand to his hair, tenderly carding your fingers through the locks that aren’t connected to his baton, occasionally running your fingers on his scalp.

The action makes Ran shudder as he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he finally lets the words out.

“What if you won’t like me anymore?”

His words stuns you. Not entirely believing what he had just said.

It doesn’t sound like something he’d say, not when he’s cocky all year round, 24/7 without any break. Usually, you’re the one who starts these kinds of conversations. But here you are now, sitting on the bathroom floor with Ran right in front of you, tears streaming down his cheeks even with his eyes shut tight.

“What if I look weird with my hair short and you break up with me? I know that I’m always so fucking cocky and I’m an annoying piece of shit almost all of the time but I don’t want you to leave me.” His voice trembles, hand gripping onto the hem of your shirt as he finally starts to flutter his eyes open, tears stuck on his lashes.

Your heart is about to break from his unexpected words, totally not ready for this to happen to you today. But you don’t have time to panic internally, not when your boyfriend is doubting himself and your love for him.

“Darling, Baby, Ran.” You coo, thumb brushing away the tears on his cheeks as you wait for him to look you in the eye.

It takes him a few more seconds before he finally does so, his beautiful eyes capturing yours as you offer him a small smile. “Why would I ever leave you just because you cut your hair short? Do you really think I only love you for your looks?” Nuzzling his cheek, you press a kiss on his wet cheek then moving to the corner of his lips, giving it a light peck before leaning back to look him in the eye once more.

“I don’t care about your hair, okay? I know I said that I love your hair long, that I like playing with it, but I love you more than your hair, okay? With long or short hair. With or without hair. I’ll still love you. I’ll still love you, Ran, remember that, okay?”

Gently nodding at your words, you smile.

In a split second, you kiss him on the lips, hoping that this will seal your words to his heart and mind, and that he won’t have to doubt himself nor your love for him anymore.

You don’t like seeing your beloved boyfriend so lost and uncertain.

“I’ll still love you even if you did close Kakucho’s eyes.”

A whine leaves Ran’s mouth at your teasing. “You just ruined the moment!”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you nuzzle his cheek, a laugh escaping you as you feel the pout on his lips. “I’m sorry~ but I’m still not over it... I keep thinking about what would happen if we were married then.”

Pulling yourself out of the hug, you look at Ran as he does the same to you.

“I would’ve filed a divorce and taken the kids with me. Rindou too.”

Ran’s facial expression quickly changes from the solemn look to an irritated one. “Rindou’s my fucking brother!”

“He wouldn’t have wanted to stay as your brother after what you did.”

“Just cut my hair and get it over with!” He huffs, standing up and sitting himself on the chair in front of the mirror. Arms crossed in front of his chest as he glares at you through the mirror. “And don’t you dare say a word about Kakucho nor Rindou.”

With a salute, you take the scissors and razor, already having a certain hairstyle in mind as you start snipping away.

Your heels clack on the tiled floor, red tinted lips forming a subtle smile as you walk to the meeting room, your arm intertwined with Ran’s who’s also radiating the same confidence you have. Your matching suits catch the eye of the subordinates as you finally make it to the meeting room where the other executives are waiting.

Ran removes his arm from yours and moves it around your waist, hand squeezing your hip for a split second before opening the door.

Both of you bask in the shocked looks that your fellow executives are giving as they eye Ran and his new haircut, the subtle smile on your lips turning into a smirk when you see Rindou abruptly stand from his seat, eyes blown wide as he eyes his brother and the hairstyle that you gave him.

“Sorry we’re late. Just ran into some issues.” You say before taking a seat next to Mikey who only eyes the lack of length on Ran’s locks.

Leaning closer to you, the boss lets out a chuckle before whispering. “Mind giving me a haircut too?”

all rights reserved © armycandy10, 2021. do not copy or repost any of my works! likes/reblogs/feedbacks are very appreciated~

#haitani ran #ran haitani #tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokrev #haitani ran x reader #Ran Haitani x reader #ran x reader #haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokrev x reader #haitani ran fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #haitani ran imagines #haitani ran scenarios #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers scenarios #haitani brothers

[dabistit]

If you’re still doing requests but can I request headcannons of the demon brothers reacting to Mc pranking them by supergluing the lid to a jar and asking them to open it? (She/her pronouns preferred) I thought this was funny

Hello dear! Of course! ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ and yes I’m currently am taking really any requests as long as they follow my rules! 💕

So here you go my love and I hope this is to your liking ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜!

Mc pranking the brothers with supergluing a jar and asking for help ఌ

Warnings: none except use of she/her pronouns

Features: Our beautiful demon brothers from obey me

Vibes: Crack

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

𖦹 ‘Oh great another mammon’

𖦹 Lucifer is great at reading people especially people like his brothers and you were no different

𖦹 He could practically feel the mischief radiating off of you

𖦹 But he grew used to having you around

𖦹 Things of course were still chaotic but that’s nothing Lucifer can’t handle mammon

𖦹 You were still your own unique person although having the same mischievous side as Mammon

𖦹 Lucifer saw you as less of a problem then Mammon was. he still made sure to keep an eye on you

𖦹 Lucifer was mainly only concerned about you when you would try to help Mammon

𖦹 Let’s just say mammon is strung to the ceiling again and you have to clean the house.

𖦹 One week was particularly a little unsettling to Lucifer since you hadn’t pulled any pranks that week

𖦹 but the truth was you just didn’t know what kind of prank to do so you’ve resulted going through the kitchen to find anything that would give you an idea and there it was: superglue ✨

𖦹 You put together an idea quickly and decided that whoever walked into or passed the kitchen next would be your victim

Brothers reactions

∘₊✧─── ── ───✧₊∘

𖤐 Lucifer 𖤐

𖤐 Lucifer walked passed the kitchen seeming to be skimming through some papers

𖤐 Lucifer’s fast but you still noticed him

𖤐 “Lucifer can you please come help me?”

𖤐 Lucifer paused in his tracks hearing your voice and walked back to the kitchen looking inside to see you seemingly struggling with a jar

𖤐 He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before walking over and taking the jar out of your hands.

𖤐 He was wearing his famous smirk for a few seconds before he realized the jar wasn’t opening .

𖤐 ‘hmm that’s strange’

𖤐 he couldn’t help better wonder if possibly one of his brothers cast a spell on the jar to keep Beel out of it but he wasn’t sure

𖤐 He attempted again but immediately stopped upon hearing you struggling to hold back a laugh

𖤐 “What’s wrong with the jar, MC.”

𖤐 Now Lucifer was intimidating but you couldn’t help it anymore and let out a giggle

𖤐 you turned to a drawer pulling it open before shutting it and facing Lucifer

𖤐 With a toothy grin you showed him the superglue while Lucifer only let out a disappointed sigh

𖤐 “Mc must I tie you up to the chandelier with Mammon? Have I been too generous with your punishments?”

△ Mammon △

△ Ah Mammon the notorious jokester amongst his brothers.

△ How sad he didn’t realize what was really wrong with the jar and was fooled.

△ “Mammon please it won’t open ☹”

△ Cue puppy dog eyes

△ Everyone knows how soft for you he is and those puppy dog eyes were making his heartbeat pick up

△ “O-of course you’d want the great Mammon to help ya!”

△ Blushinggggg

△You handed him the jar and Mammon turned the lid on the jar- well tried to anyway 🧍‍♀️

△ Blushing gets worse cause now he’s embarrassed and does it again hoping it would work this time

△ When it doesn’t Mammon honestly was a little frustrated that he couldn’t open the stupid jar. He really just wanted to impress you

△ “I superglued the lid onto the jar :) ”

△ “YA WHAT?!? LISTEN HERE YA HUMAN”

△ Petty af about it

△ low key wanted the jar to actually be stuck and then he would impress you by opening it for you

☒ Leviathan ☒

☒ Poor Levi had to choose to run downstairs to stock up on snacks at the wrong time

☒ Levi paused as soon as entered the kitchen seeing you.

☒ “oh u-uhh mc..are you okay?”

☒ “Levi can you help me open this ╥﹏╥”

☒ “oh..u-um sure..”

☒ cue intense blushing

☒ Levi walked over to you gently taking the jar off the counter before turning the lid.

☒ He immediately froze and his whole face turned red when the jar wasn’t opening

☒ “I’m sorry mccc ╥﹏╥”

☒ You giggled showing Levi the superglue and he turned even redder if possible

☒ “Mc you’re so cruel!!”

⋆ ࣪. Satan ⋆ ࣪.

⋆ ࣪. Satan had decided to come down to the kitchen for a snack after studying

⋆ ࣪. It was a pleasant surprise to see you and he offered a warm smile

⋆ ࣪. “hello mc, is everything alright?”

⋆ ࣪. Satan was quick to notice your distress from him being so observant also you pretending ur about to cry

⋆ ࣪. “Satan can you help me?? I can’t open this stupid jar >:(”

⋆ ࣪. “Oh so that’s what’s wrong” “of course I can help you”

⋆ ࣪. Satan walked towards the jar observing it for moment before attempting to open it

⋆ ࣪. Satan raised a brow looking down at the jar when it wouldn’t open

⋆ ࣪. “Mc did you do something to the jar?”

⋆ ࣪. A laugh escaped your mouth and Satan shook his head

⋆ ࣪. “Mc don’t become as bad as Mammon.”

ꨄ Asmodeus ꨄ

ꨄ Asmo had been searching for Mc to see if she wanted her nails to be repainted but couldn’t seem to find her

ꨄ He came across her in the kitchen and was immediately happy to see her

ꨄ “Mccc dear~” “Do you need your nails redone?~”

ꨄ “Oh Asmo yes and can you help me open this please?”

ꨄ “Usually I wouldn’t since I just did my nails but I will for you my dear~”

ꨄ Asmo happily took the jar from your hands finding the best way to open it without ruining his nails

ꨄ The jar wouldn’t budge.

ꨄ “What the-”

ꨄ You giggled and Asmo had a look of realization before shaking his head in disapproval

ꨄ “Mc dear I think it’s best you stay close to me now. You’ve been around Mammon too much I fear”

𓎩 Beelzebub 𓎩

𓎩 Beel walked into the kitchen only thinking about all the delicious food Satan had just purchased till he saw you

𓎩 He smiled so softly it would melt your heart 😭 diavolo I love this man

𓎩 “Mc are you here to get a snack too?”

𓎩 “I was but I can’t open this jar :( ”

𓎩 Beel gave you an understanding look before offering to help

𓎩 “Please do Beel” ;-;

𓎩 Beel happily opened it for you before handing it back to you

𓎩 You stood there looking up at him slightly shocked

𓎩 “It was easy Mc. I know how it feels when a jar gets stuck closed and your hungry :(”

𓎩 * insert sad understanding Beel face*

𓎩 “Oh um thank you Beel..”

𓎩 “You’re welcome :)” “do you want to eat together?”

☁︎ Belphegor

☁︎ Belphie walked into the kitchen tiredly after offering to get Beel some more snacks since he would get in trouble if Lucifer caught him eating all the food again

☁︎ He barely even noticed you cause of how tired he was

☁︎ “oh hey mc”

☁︎ “hey Belphie, can you please help me??”

☁︎ Belphie eyed the jar in your hands before lazily taking it and trying to open it

☁︎ It wouldn’t open though

☁︎ Belphie sighed before saying “sorry mc I think I’m too tired to help you right now”

☁︎ “oh”

☁︎ Belphie walked over to the fridge grabbing some food for Beel before turning around seeing you looking like there was something you weren’t telling him

☁︎ “alright, what is it?”

☁︎ “It’s just uh I was kinda trying to prank you by supergluing this jar shut”

☁︎ Belphie chuckled tiredly

☁︎ “Nice try mc”

☁︎ He left the kitchen after sending you a cheeky wink

#obey me #anime request #belphegor #belphegor x reader #belphegorobeyme #obey me belphie #beelzebub x mc #lucifer x you #lucifer headcanons #lucifer x mc #asmo x mc #asmodeus x you #obey me beelzebub #obey me! #obey me crack #obey me satan #satan x you #satan x mc #mammon x you #leviathan x you #levi x reader #mammonobeyme #leviathanobeyme #obey me belphegor #obey me beel icons #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff

[httpsaiki]

I know this is dumb but can I have a Drabble (?) where the reader (saikis s/o) got super glue on their hands and can’t figure out how to get it off so them and saiki spend hours trying to get it off readers hands? (If it’s possible can it be a non-binary reader?) and maybe some fluff at the end? This is also me right now since my hands are covered in super glue and I can’t get it off🤧🤧

This is so cute, it reminds me of covering my hands with glue as a kid to peel it off (though I do think most kids did this). I hope the glue came off okay! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write this, but it was really fun to write something lighthearted like this. Thank you for the request! — Reader is gender neutral!

WC: 561

Italics are Kusuo speaking through telepathy.

Saiki's S/O got superglue all over their hands. —————————————————–

“Are you an idiot?” Kusuo asks you, a deadpan look on his face.

You look back at him, feigning a look of hurt at his remark. Sure, maybe you were currently in a situation that would lead your boyfriend to believe that you’re an idiot - to be fair, he thinks everyone’s an idiot - but that didn’t mean he had to be so rude about it.

Superglue. That was the predicament you found currently found yourself in. In your defense, it is really sticky, and getting it on your hands is just so easy! When you failed to notice the amount that was building up as you glued your project together, it wasn’t difficult to end up with it literally covering the entirety of both of your hands.

So, instead of giving Kusuo a proper reply, you walk up and try to touch the palm of your hand to his face. He quickly dodges, a scowl taking over his features. You can practically feel the how dare you energy radiating off him. You didn’t need to be a psychic to read that thought. Kusuo sighs, the frown from before still on his face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, then.”

Unfortunately, it only got worse from there. It seems not even a psychic could overcome the forces of super glue. It was stuck and it was stuck on good. Both of you were in the bathroom, you were sitting on the counter near the sink and Kusuo was stood in front of you, holding both your hands under the water. He was scrubbing at your hands, hoping some amount of effort on his part would remove the glue from your hands.

Of course, it wasn’t near enough. It seemed no matter what Kusuo did he could not get the super glue off your hands.

“Are you sure you’re all powerful~? Maybe the superglue is just stronger than you are,” You teased, watching as his hands still moved against yours, despite him looking up to glare at you (to which you promptly stuck out your tongue). It continued that way for a while, you both lightly teasing each other while working the glue off. He’d make some sly remark and you’d tease him back, or vice-versa.

Luckily, in due time the glue was cleaned off your hands. While it took way longer than expected, Kusuo did manage to eventually remove it all. With your hands clean, and a tired boyfriend, you were dragged away to finally do something else.

“Please,” You heard quietly ring in your head, you turned around to see Kusuo himself with a pleading look on his face. You knew that look all too well. “Thank you for helping me, Ku. I’ll get some treats, can you find something to watch?” Kusuo nodded in response, making his way off to the couch to find a movie.

You quickly threw together some snacks, making sure to grab a variety of things to share. Hurrying over to the couch yourself, you placed down the tray of food and made yourself comfortable next to Kusuo.

“I’m never letting you near glue again,” You heard as he put his head down on your shoulder, “Just ask me next time.” You laughed lightly at his small remark, before focusing back on the movie. Maybe getting glue all over your hands wasn’t so bad in the end.

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader #saiki kusuo #kusuo saiki #saiki #my writing