#& then maybe it's a little oneshot??

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna Dyes His Hair

You were just teasing him.

"Pink like a petite little rose."

"Shut it."

They were just play-fighting words. Part of an attempt to poke the bear that never seemed to bite at you.

"Pink like a sweet strawberry."

"Strawberries are red."

Sukuna had had you in his lap, lazy with a long day of work weighing on his bones. He watched you dote on him with a tired smile, too exhausted to mind your fingers lovingly brushing at tufts of his hair. Usually he'd swat at a touch as careful as the one you were giving him, but there were moments, like this one, where he seemed to soak up your tenderness.

"Pink like a baby kitten's nose." You cooed.

"Jesus." He groaned, rolling his eyes. 

Maybe it was the ending boop to his own nose that made him finally snatch you up and tackle you to the mattress.

Maybe that's why one day later, you're staring at him standing outside of a restaurant, leaning against his motorcycle with stark black hair.

He's grinning at you, knowing that he's won the little game as he always does, with overkill.

It was a promised date night, one you had been planning for a few weeks now. Sukuna never had the same days off that you did, but the stars happened to align for you to go out to dinner together and you leapt at his invitation.

After he spots you from across the parking lot, Sukuna stubs his cigarette beneath his boot and starts over to you. You can tell in the way his eyes devilishly glimmer that he's excited to see your expression. 

You're in too much shock not to give him exactly what he wants.

"Hi~" He purrs when he nears you, reaching a hand out for one of your own. You offer it subconsciously, moving automatically since your brain seemed to be sputtering. His rings are cold against your fingers, but even their icy bite is not enough to stir you back to the present. He tugs you into his embrace, looping an arm around your lower waist and pressing you into him. He’s warm despite the chill on his fingertips. When he's got you secured to him, he tilts his head at you, waiting for your response.

"Hi." You whisper, blinking up at him.

You know he thinks you're going to hate it. You know he thinks you're going to give him a pout- tell him how heartbroken you are to see his natural hair go. That was undoubtedly the punchline of his stupid joke. You've told him numerous times how much you loved his hair and every part of him that made him Sukuna... So why is your mouth suddenly watering?

“What d'ya think?” He runs his fingers through it, showing it off to you as if your eyes aren’t already glued to the newly darkened locks. 

It suits him just as well as his natural hair color does, but the black brings out the deep, rich color of his eyes and makes prominent the tattoos framing his face. People always tell you that Sukuna’s stare intimidated them, and you never felt it yourself until then. 

You swallow past your heartbeat, which you can suddenly feel in your throat. Sukuna notices, and his mischievous grin turns wolfish.

"Oh, you like it. Don't you?" He murmurs. Reaching up, he presses your slightly agape mouth closed so that he can place a chaste kiss to your shell-shocked lips. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne has you in an even more intoxicated daze, rendering you boneless in his hold. His next words are a heated whisper, for your ears only.

"I usually only manage to take the words out of your mouth when you're strapped to my bed. This gotcha that good, little doe?" 

[myokk]

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

Oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

from my oneshot💘

[wings-of-flying]

i've yet to research this and check if it's at all possible, but... there's an abandoned city in the hole in the sea, right? and the map to it plus some of the riddles inside were written in celestial. and we know the place was used to seal away whatever the being of chaos is. who lived there initially? well, beings like angels, celestials, aasimar and demigods can speak celestial according to this one website i checked real quick. so what if they sacrificed their home to seal away the chaos being, and fled across mana? i'm gonna say some crazy shit now so bear with. what if their monarch had a child who was sent away and separated from the rest? what if that child was chip, a nameless prince? idk. it would make him on a similar level to gill and jay from a meta perspective, and would potentially explain why the place beneath the sea welcomed him home

[solsticelosthermind]

I wish you would write a fake dating fic where Clint or Bucky has to play lovey dovey with Nat (or someone else) for a mission, and they do a really good job at being convincingly in love, and that’s the trigger for the unpartnered party to realize how badly they wanted to be in Nat’s spot.

You!!! You are my favorite. This is going directly in my wips but uhh oops have the 700ish words that fell out in the last half hour: See, the mission isn’t an issue. They’ve done this before, the whole giggly-handsy-just-married-style of touristy shtick tended to be a perfect cover when they wanted to be seen but not necessarily noticed.

Except it was usually Clint pressed close to Natasha, playing a silent game of chicken with wandering hands.

And now Clint is on the sidelines.

The Backup, y’know, putting the eye in Hawkeye to use, the safety net while the spider and her mate spin invisible threads around their prey.

And, well, look, his job is to look, isn’t it? So sue him, he’s looking.

He’s caught half the damn fair drooling over them as they wander around.

Case in point, Bucky makes a show of ‘covertly’ looking around before tugging her into a less-than-hidden alcove. He picks her up by the waist like she’s made of air. When he sets her down on some kind of table, she’s slightly taller than he is. Her arms slip around his shoulders and her legs part to let him between her knees, and Clint’s not about to choke on his own spit about it, no sirree.

They’re shooed back out into the main walkway hardly a minute later. Bucky radiates the perfect amount of smugness as he tucks her under his arm, a hint of lipstick ruining the corner of his beautifully pouty mouth. Nat is the picture of shyly mortified glee, burrowing into his side to highlight the mess he’s made of her hair.

They turn the corner and she pulls him down for a kiss that lingers slightly too long, brushing her lipstick off his mouth only to kiss him again like she can’t help herself.

God. Bucky’s eyes are so dark when he straightens, thumbing at his mouth and kissing the top of her head. They step up to a game Clint knows is rigged five ways from Sunday, but Bucky plays the kid running it like a fiddle, knocking down the bottles that have been glued down with a wink. He makes a big show out of collecting a giant stuffed cat, calico with huge green eyes, and presenting it to Nat with all the gravitas of a fucking proposal. The smirk on his stupid mouth makes Clint want to eat his own arrows.

“Hey,” Sam mutters, knocking their shoulders together. “Tone down the scowl, man, you’re gonna freak out the mark.”

“Am not.”

“You absolutely are, dumbass. What’s got you all grumpy anyway? Still pissed Bucky got tapped to be Nat’s boy toy?”

“I can pull off a good pair of heels, too, y'know” Clint mutters.

“I’m afraid to ask,” Sam drawls.

Clint’s too busy watching the way Bucky runs a hand down Nat’s arm. He hooks their knuckles together and pulls her hand up for a kiss that’s more indecent than when he was literally grinding into her a minute ago. She giggles, long lashes fluttering as she lets him pull her in against him again.

“Yo. Barton. You with me? Where’s your head at, man?”

“I have never wanted to be short so bad in my life,” Clint answers stupidly.

“Again. What in the actual hell?”

Bucky’s hand is so casually possessive as it rests on the back of her hip. He guides her around some kind of cotton candy debacle and the muscles in his arm should be criminal.

Sam bursts into a horrible wheezing cackle that bends him in half.

Clint blinks. He darts a look to where Bucky’s running his hands through Nat’s hair, twirling it around his finger as they talk to someone’s grandma hawking funky crocheted dolls. He looks back down to where Sam’s going darker from the force of his laughter.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh man,” Sam gasps, throwing a hand on Clint’s arm to help himself upright. “You’re down bad, aren’t you?”

Clint looks back. Bucky’s got his head thrown back on his own laughter, throat bared and eyes scrunched up. He’s the most gorgeous thing Clint’s ever laid eyes on.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “You’ve got terrible taste.”

Bucky chooses that moment to slant a look over his shoulder, like he knows.

Clint gives him the all-clear, and for some reason Sam starts laughing again.

“The worst,” he repeats.

And that’s just not true at all.

“Could be worse,” Clint says once he manages to squash the need to go nuh-uh like he’s three instead of thirty. “Could be you.”

(Now on ao3!)

[piratefishmama]

Prompt being this post about daycare worker Eddie and Single Parent Steve right here

Eddie was a professional. He couldn’t flirt with the kids parents, especially since he didn’t actually know which ones would be interested in him. Single fathers were always kind of… 50/50 in terms of whether or not they’d be into another guy, so Eddie was pretty comfortable not flirting with parents.

Until Steve Harrington.

Little Ellie, or Nora, or Eleanor depending on the brand of shenanigan that she’d gotten up to during the day, had been going to Tiny Terrors Day-Care for a little over four months now after the parent and child had moved into town a week before she’d joined them. Eddie had met Steve twice. Once, where Ellie had spectacularly ran head first into a door pretending to be a T-Rex, and the second time, was when Robbie, a little shit, pulled her pretty pig tails out and ran off with her hair ties.

They had little green T-Rex charms on them, Eddie had never seen such a thing before, it turned out they were custom made by one of her uncles. Priceless treasures basically.

She hadn’t done anything to Robbie, no. Robbie was four and just acting out. The five-year-old knew better than to hurt Robbie, no. After she’d gotten her hair ties back, she, with an impressive amount of force, booted one of the helpers directly in the shin, when said helper suggested Robbie must have just had a crush on her.

Physical violence had been paired with her furious little voice demanding they never tell girls that boys hurting them means they have a crush, cause her daddy said that’s the dumbest thing ever. Boys shouldn’t hurt girls!! And nobody should be excusing boys hurting girls!!

It was a pretty spectacular verbal beat down for a five-year-old to be giving a grown adult, Eddie didn’t actually have anything bad to say to her about it either. He just had to tell Steve that she’d injured one of the staff, because… protocol.

Steve had given her a high five and promised her ice cream when he’d found out why. Eddie kind of wanted to kiss him.

It was fine. Totally fine, he’d only seen him twice and he’d managed to contain his urge to flirt even with Steve looking at him in a way that could definitely be construed as interest. He didn’t want to assume, assumptions could lead to chaos and chaos didn’t belong in the lives of toddlers.

So, he was pretty sure that he’d be fine for the easter hunt.

Steve had RSVP’d that he would be attending with Ellie when the little newsletter went out about it, since wherever he worked was closed for the holiday, Eddie had… understandably freaked out a little, but he’d done it in the office.

Away from the staff. Away from the kids. He’d be fine to witness Steve being a great dad for the day. Totally fine. He’d had his little freak out, he was fine to spend the morning of their little hunt hiding eggs with the staff, definitely not feeling his nerves skyrocketing at the idea of Steve helping little Ellie find them later.

They weren’t real eggs, oh no, definitely not real eggs. They were hiding little colourful plastic eggs, each colour holding a value, so the more plastic eggs you found, the bigger your easter haul could be! It wasn’t just eggs either, they had cakes, cool prizes, sweets, and other things donated to the day care for the kids by members of the community, someone had donated a bike for crying out loud. It was silver and gold and had removable stabilizers, totally gender neutral so any kid could enjoy it without it being too girly or too boyish.

They’d hidden a golden egg for the bike. It was extra hard to find.

Eddie had hidden it personally under the roots of an old tree stump just beyond the tree line, in a little hollow half hidden by moss and foliage. The other eggs just hidden around the park. The only reason he’d hidden it beyond the treeline, was because the parents would be looking with the kids. No child would be going beyond that tree line without their parents present.

So, with all the eggs hidden, some a little more obvious than others, Eddie and the rest of the staff waited for their attendees, who slowly began trickling in sometime around noon. The hunt was supposed to start at one, and Eddie was definitely not craning his head side to side, searching through the rapidly growing crowd of parents and children for that specific dynamic duo, he absolutely wasn—

“Eddie!!” Eddie’s eyes snapped to the left just in time to catch his favourite, even if he wasn’t supposed to pick favourites, tiny terror, Ellie, just before she’d have bulldozed into his legs. He hoisted her up and into his arms with a pleased little,

“Elliesaurus Rex!!”

“Quick, tell daddy that the shirt looks fine!” Eddie found himself focusing beyond her at the request, finding his smile growing wider at the dressed down Steve Harrington, wearing an incredibly stupid Hawaiian shirt that didn’t even remotely look like it belonged to him, and a pair of quarter length jeans rolled a little further up his calves and sandals fuck.

The shirt was baggy enough to hide what would no doubt be an absolutely spectacular rear fitted snugly into those jeans though, sadly enough.

“The shirt looks fine.” He parroted with a mischievous grin, a grin that widened as Steve rubbed at the back of his neck bashfully.

“It’s laundry day, the only clean shirt I had was something my old man ‘passed down’ to me, I… don’t usually wear this sort of thing.” There was a story there, Eddie wanted to hear it. Maybe some other time though.

“You look good in it! It suits you” honestly a garbage bag would suit Steve Harrington, it wasn’t fair how pretty that man was.

“It does not” Steve laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in such a way that Eddie had to internally remind himself that he should not flirt with the parents of the kids. Definitely don’t do that. “You though—you uh… I like the uhm… the apron.” Eddie’s eyes widened a fraction, before he looked down at himself, sure enough, he’d left his apron on. The one still covered in dried paint hand prints and dirt. “The dirt looks good on your knees too.” Aaand the dirt on his knees from where he’d been kneeling down in the grass.

“Haaa-hah, we can’t all look like we just stepped off a run way in Hawaiian chic, Mr. Harrington” Eddie definitely didn’t think he was imagining the soft rosy hue to those perfect cheekbones but—maybe it was just the heat. God he was beautiful. “Okay! Okay it’s uhm. It’s almost one, so—So we should probably get everyone gathered together, would you like to take your minion back?” He offered Ellie back to her dad, who let out a soft chuckle at his daughters whine of disappointment, before plucking her from Eddie’s hands.

“But—But I wanna stay with Eddie” was the immediate complaint, which frankly melted Eddie’s already gooey heart even further.

“I know sweetheart, but Eddie’s gotta do Eddie things, yeah? We can hang out with Eddie after we find you some eggs, okay?” Eddie raised a single brow at the assumption, but Steve just offered an apologetic grin, sneaky sneaky, Mr. Harrington.

Especially sneaky since Ellie perked right up, chirping, “Okay!!” placated by the promise of Eddie time later making it impossible for Eddie to say no. Eddie couldn’t even be mad, he wanted Steve time too. Maybe not around some thirty kids and their parents, but… he wanted Steve time too.

“Alrighty” he didn’t refuse Eddie time, Ellie and Steve could have all the Eddie time. “Everyone, could I have your attention please!!” All eyes on him, he stepped to the front of the group “Behold my glorious little adventurers! Behind me is a park FILLED with possibilities. There are one hundred and fifty colourful plastic eggs hidden within this park, the more eggs you find, the bigger your Easter haul will be! Not only that, but somewhere, in this glorious wonderland of opportunity, is a SINGLE golden egg. The finder of such a treasure, will go home with the grand prize of the day, a brand-new bicycle, donated by one of the incredibly generous members of our community.” The excitement in the crowd only seemed to grow, be it for the chocolate, or the bike, Eddie didn’t know, he was just happy everyone was excited.

“To keep things fair, we’ll have staff members monitoring the hunt to ensure nobody steals any eggs from anyone. If you can’t hold any more eggs, you’re welcome to come and ‘bank’ them with the staff over here by the main gates, you’ll get a little slip with a number on it for how many eggs you’ve banked! Now. Are we all ready?” Ohhh they were ready “Aaaare we set?” They were set!! “Aaaand, GO!!”

Chaos. Complete and utter chaos descended upon that park in an instant. Kids diving into bushes, Parents climbing up trees, Eddie had hid at least three eggs on that jungle gym, but nobody had even checked there yet, too busy looking in bushes and—

“Get it, munchkin!!” Steve Harrington, with a little terrible terror on his shoulders, Ellie reaching up to the top of the climbing frame to grab the little green egg from where one of the girls had left it poking out of a post that’d lost its end cap, the larger rounded bottom of the egg resting in the top of the hollow tube perfectly. “Into the bucket! That’s my girl!”

Eddie could watch him all day. Could watch him climbing a tree to get the one egg Eddie had left up a tree, could watch him bent over -oh my god that shirt rode up and hello perfect ass- pushing his daughter up the tube slide to grab the little egg one of the girls had stuck to the inside of it with double sided sticky tape. Could watch Ellie running to her dad with an arm full of eggs she’d found half hidden in a shrub, could watch him celebrate by lifting her up and twirling her around all day long Eddie was so very screwed.

He could also watch, fascinated, by the way Ellie found the golden egg. She found it, all on her own while hunting in the bushes around the stump. She didn’t yell about it, she didn’t throw it into her bucket, she sneakily showed her dad, who glanced around him as if making sure nobody saw, then whispered something to her, Eddie didn’t know what the man said, but whatever he said, it had her hurrying off, egg in hand, eyes scanning the park and everyone in it for a little while, before very sneakily depositing the little egg into a bush and grabbing a boy by the shoulder to point at it for him.

“Look, look it’s the gold one!” She chirped, shaking the little boy, and nudging him toward it “you take it! Quick!” Now, Eddie knew all of Ellies friends in day care. And this little boy… wasn’t one of them. He was new, from a family who didn’t have much, relied on coupons and the generosity of the staff at the day care to keep him while his single mother worked long hours for low income.

It was something Eddie had to ask about, but he only got a chance to do that once everything was over. Once the prizes had been doled out, chocolate eggs, cool colouring sets, accessories, the bike to one VERY excited little boy and one baffled and emotional mother, Eddie sidled himself up to Team Harrington, the pair piling their haul into the trunk of Steve’s minivan?

The fuck did he need a mini van for being a parent of an only child? Didn’t matter.

“Sooo, was I seeing things, or did I see one very sneaky little lady giving away a bike earlier?” Ellie only giggled in mischievous glee as she hurried away with the biggest of her chocolate eggs, taking it to go gorge herself on chocolate by the swings, leaving her dad and her favourite day care person all by themselves in the carpark.

Steve smiled at him, amusement dancing in his beautiful hazel baby cow eyes good lord Eddie was so screwed for this man. “It’d have been a bit weird if the person who donated the bike took the bike home, don’t you think?” Surprise must have shown on his face because Steve continued “I knew people were donating stuff, so I uh… I got a few things together and Ellie’s uncle dropped them all off the other day.” Dustin had dropped them off, left the goods with one of the girls. Eddie hadn’t seen who’d left it all. “Didn’t think I’d be the only one donating something big but… I dunno, it’s nice to see it go to someone who’d appreciate it.” He wasn’t bragging, he wasn’t flaunting wealth, he seemed genuinely happy that some random kid now had a bike.

Don’t flirt with the parent, don’t flirt with the parent, don’t flirt with the—fuck it

“Uh… so uhm, stop me, if uh… if—if you’re not like… that way inclined but uhm… are you free on Friday? For uhm… dinner… maybe…?” It was out there, Steve was looking at him, eyes wide in surprise “shit—that was. Too forward. Super unprofessional, I’m sorry, ignore me I’ll just—I gotta—” he was about two seconds into running away when Steve grabbed his arm in a gentle but strong hold.

“Wait! Wait… like, a date?”

“…Yes?”

“Y-yeah! Yes, yeah, absolutely I’ll… I can uhm—Robin, my sister, she can look after Ellie, so yes, absolutely I am absolutely free on Friday. Let’s say… eight, I’ll pick you up? Maybe dinner at my place and a movie?” Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

Holy shit. “Eight and that, sounds perfect.” The love life, it has risen!

“Perfect, eight it is.” Hallelujah!!

[wisteriagoesvroom]

think i'm finally getting somewhere with edits, so uhhh. another maxoscar snip:

Oscar is the one who leans in, and kisses Max. Factual at first. Placid. His touch is curious, his mouth half open. Exactly what it felt like at boarding school when Oscar kissed girls. Except the person he’s kissing is 1. not a girl, 2. not placid at all. In fact, Max returns the kiss with insistence. With an eagerness Oscar hadn’t expected. Max lets Oscar stay where he is, but places one hand firmly on Oscar’s neck, and the other on his waist.  Oscar grunts at surprise with the force of it, the open attraction. Of course Max kisses exactly like he races. With focus, with full claim over everything in its path. Never by halves.  Good thing Oscar can match him, then.  Because when Max tugs Oscar closer, leans his face to the side and nips at Oscar’s lower lip, a hunger that Oscar hadn’t known he had lights up in him too. His synapses seem to say: well, he’s into it. The three time world champion’s interested in you, so you might as well show him how you drive, too. 

[transmunsons]

Wayne had met Al’s child a couple of times before the kid showed up on his doorstep. The odd Christmas or Easter gathering didn’t give him much of an idea of the kid’s personality since it was still a wee thing.

The young Munson here in front of him stood tall, maybe up to Wayne’s eyebrows, whip-thin and willowy. Big brown eyes stared out at him from a sallow face. The resemblance to Al was uncanny; it would’ve been even more so if not for the kid’s raggedy buzz cut.

She wanted to be called “Eddie”. Sorry, he wanted to be called “Eddie”. Sure, it was something to get used to, but it weren’t the strangest thing Wayne had run into over the years. He’d met some colorful folk during a brief stint in Chicago. He even had a bit of an idea how to help.

He helped Eddie get documents, sorted out school, and—after finding Eddie passed out in the bathroom—started sending letters. He got the contact of an endocrinologist in Indianapolis. Wayne could only afford a consult, gathered information. Enough to place a request with his dealer.

Rick didn’t ask questions. Probably assumed Wayne just wanted some extra virility. Wayne didn’t care what he thought.

200 milligrams every two weeks is what that doctor had said. Eddie’s voice dropped quick as a stone. He worried that he’d start to look just like his dad. Wayne told him he’d look like a Munson and Eddie looked at him real long before saying that might not be so bad.

[shroommush]

Paradoxcicle chapter 27 spoilers under cut!!

SCHLATT AND TED ARE JOINING THE PARADOXCICLE CAST THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

He got a little spooked

Anyways yes PARADOXCICLE BY @blipple-is-confused ON A03 HAVE A GOOD DAY IM GONNA GO MAKE MY SOUP NOW

Okay but side note i got an idea. And the idea is writing fanfiction about my favourite fanfic.

Get this; robert drops his camera somewhere and mr cycle has to go get it for him- but mr cycle still doesnt know about roberts vision quirk, so hes a bit lost on why robert cant get it himself.

I am LOSING my MIND over the idea, and i just have this one line stuck in my head of when robert tells mr cycle why he couldnt get his camera on his own, and mr cycles only concern is that this whole time he hasnt been looking robert in the eyes and AUHDHDHD

I think ive lost it, but would you guys be interested if i made a little one shot thing about that here on tumblr?

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Only two chapters left of Wobbly Hearts and then I’m DONE. 21 is pretty much finished I just got to edit it and look over it and all that, and 22 needs some tweaking but its almost done too and I’m AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA longest I’ve ever worked on anything like this and it’s almost done!!!!

[ashleymasenado]

TADC: Pomni Through the Looking Glass (and What She Found There)

@endomentendo, be glad that you have inspired me, but prepare to be spited cause that's exactly why I'm writing this. If I got most stuff wrong including the tech (look I had to improvise the looking glass okay no one really cares if it's different from yours (wow for once I don't care about getting canon right)) I'm probably just a little sorry.

Also if Pomni's name is the same in the real world and digital wonderland, then I'm glad I got this right then.

But for anyone else who's also enjoying this, please enjoy! And maybe leave a little comment on what you thought; I haven't written a full-length story, much less a one-shot in a long time, and I'm excited to be back into my natural talent of writing!

(P.S. before we move on: I might write a little thing based on Endo's little opening comic for in Wonderland…)

(Also apologies if my writing style feels old, I had just reread the original Through the Looking Glass recently lol)

——————————————————————————————————

The little white kitty robot had been malfunctioning lately. At least, that's what her sister had been saying based on her own observations. And this time, the little thing had been moving on its own, all because a simple move of its shelf had flicked a switch and now it was just about to fall off said shelf. When it was close to hitting the ground, it was just barely caught by the only worker in the store that day, Pomni Gardner.

"There you go," she smiled tiredly, petting the furry kitty's head and shelfing it again. In all her five years of working at Cable and Analog Convenience, the little robot kitty she had made in high school was sometimes her rare source of company when her sister was out of town making supply trips. That, and the other two robot kittens on display only. But the little white kitten, which she had named Snowy, was one of the more active ones due to a little floor accident she figured was the cause of her random turn-ons these days.

Pomni leaned on the counter with a sigh, looking over the blank account of the past few mundane days on the computer for the store's records. No one had come into the store in a long time, so she had mostly felt that there was no need to come in at all. But ever since her sister's insistence for her to take her place just a day before she left, Pomni hadn't really had a choice in the manner.

She leaned back in her chair and stared up thoughtfully at the ceiling, desperate to get away from her boredom. It hadn't been a very long time ago since she had somehow dreamt of a strange place, created of her own imagination yet of very real sensations somehow. The little white clown with the giant pocket watch hopping from monitor to monitor and ending up in one that hadn't worked in years… she still wasn't sure it was such a wise choice to follow it and fall into the small screen, with a new form that forced her to question her new identity: was she the same person she was that morning, or a different one entirely? Hey, English class was finally coming in handy.

Even thought it was all a dream in the end, it was a very strange one. Even stranger, somehow she had woken up with a VR headset on her head, which she suspected her sister had placed on her to try and shake her awake, yet it hadn't really helped much. But she appreciated the effort, even if she hadn't asked her about it yet. The whole thing was very curious though.

Pomni groaned, more out of exasperation than anything else. She grabbed the little white cat off the nearby shelf and flicked the switch, watching it move around the table in a cute and almost realistic manner like an actual kitten. She had been quite proud of being the sole builder of this little mechanism, even if she had to use a few parts from their own store when it was only her sister running it back in the day. But in the end, she never really noticed, so it was all fine.

"You know, Snowy," she started, leaning her head on her hand as her elbow settled on the counter. She chuckled at the cliche nickname, her bored smile growing wider as the little cat came over to her hand and gave a small robotic purr. "It was the darndest thing, that dream I had a few months ago. It only feels like yesterday I had become a very different person, or atleast, that's what my body experienced. It was more of a physical change than anything. But can it really be considered physical if it was inside of a digital world? Anyway, it still gave me a weird existential crisis."

Pomni pulled the little white robot kitten onto her lap, feeling it settle there like a regular cat as she began to stroke its head. She and her sister, the only employees at C&A Convenience, weren't allowed to bring in any pets for the sake of their customers, so it was nice to have this little girl for company, even if she wasn't the real thing. "I wonder what it would be like to have you with me, Snowy. What would a little robot cat be like in that strange digital world? Would you be able to talk and be your own person, or would you still be as you are now? Gosh, when did I start asking so many questions?"

Pomni rubbed her own head, returning to petting the little kitten afterwards. She directed her attention to the newly imported wide-screen TV, which her sister had repaired with the help of their uncle. Now it looked just like new, which she really appreciated as she smiled and admired her reflection for just a moment. The screen was so big and clear, it was just like looking through a giant mirror. It was these kind of televisions that they said had images so vivid and lifelike it was like they were jumping out of the screen or they could pull you into the video itself. Pomni had never had a chance to see what that was like, and there was sadly no video player to plug into the TV, so she was just going to imagine it best she could.

"Could you imagine if an image could actually pull you into it, Snowy?" She said with a light chuckle, putting the little robot on the counter and standing up to get her fourth cup of coffee. She sat back down and started sipping her cup, looking over at Snowy who she had shut down so it wouldn't waddle off the counter and fall again. "It'd probably be a weird experience, just like when I accidentally fell through the monitor as if it were a hole in the ground. Just imagine the whole thing—the space just warping around you, like a vacuum cleaner, slowly taking you into a different place…"

Pomni was surprised at her own bravery to describe this fascinating and yet horrifying scenario, but not as surprised as she was to see the lights around her dim and the TV slowly flickering to life. She put down her cup on the counter and carefully leaned closer to the screen, which showed just a little bit of static and that same annoying buzzing sound you'd hear when the TV wouldn't work and all you'd get was said static. But as she leaned in closer to the screen for curiosity's sake, she saw the static was like a misty veil, like a lacy white curtain or the kind of mist you'd see on your window on a cold or snowy day.

"What in the…?"

Out of instinct, she reached out her hand to the screen and almost drew her hand back at its warmth. It wasn't an unwelcoming warmth, like a boiling pot or a fever, but it was a strange warmth nonetheless. And the screen seemed to ripple where she touched it… how curious.

She tried it again, keeping her hand there for longer. Using her other hand, she wiped at the misty veil of static, and drew back with a sound gasp.

For in the place of her normal reflection, of a young human 25-year-old woman, was the same character she had become in that dream of a digital Wonderland.

With a frustrated frown, she tried to pull her hand away from the screen, which she found was soundly stuck and was even beginning to sink into it. Gosh darn it, why didn't she learn anything from the last time?! Was this about to become a new adventure that she didn't want to be dragged into? Why did she ever come close to this TV in the first place…

Her reflection seemed to mirror her distress, even though she was yet to take that form—which she would soon take if she didn't pull back. But the warm feeling of her hand going through and next her arm was almost like rapidly falling into quicksand—no way out unless someone pulled you free.

And with a silent curse falling from her lips, Pomni was sucked through the television screen, which was as clear as the looking glass, before it was as silent and blank as it was before.

[rizaposting]

have not been able to shake a weird little idea that I have no idea how to start or how to end where the premise is: ~5 years Post-CoS or maybe longer, Ed somehow manages to get blipped back into Amestris (Al also, but he got tossed somewhere else) and somehow contacts Mustang and they just end up sitting in a bar trying to figure out How The Hell This Is Possible What The Fuck. Mustang is older and more mellow and that kind of freaks Ed out, who wants the familiarity of bickering with him in this desperately weird situation. They're both kind of cagey and don't know what to say and neither of them are very forthcoming about their lives.

Eventually they end up going back to Roy's home and he's got a nice house in the suburbs with a weird gravel driveway and there's a single porchlight left on, and Roy says "Oh, by the way, keep your voice down my wife is asleep" and Edward is like "who the fuck would agree to marry you lmfao" And Roy is just. Mmh. Because he's really not looking forward to Edward finding out he married Fucking Lieutenant Hawkeye.

The issue is that there's a clear story there, how did the Elrics get there? Where is Al, what is he doing? Etc. But all I want to focus on is, like... Ed as an observer to domestic royai moments LOL. Rummaging through all their pictures and trinkets. Sleepy Riza shuffling around in a fluffy robe in the mornings like a grandma. Roy trying to take up gardening and being in an ongoing war with the rabbits that are eating the shit out of their raised beds. The closed door that Ed is NOT allowed to look into that's totally not a half-built nursery that puts some of their suspicious behavior into perspective. Do you see my issue? I could tell a cool story but my brain is slop

[isacksteban]

❛ don't just stand there, you tease. come here and let me taste. ❜ + marcmarc 👁️🫦👁️

To say Marco liked body modifications was a bit of an understatement. His entire right forearm was a canvas of ink, with each tattoo intricately woven with personal meaning, a reflection of his soul and the people he held closest to his heart.

Every piece told a story, marking milestones, relationships, and moments that had shaped him over the years. The tattoos on his thighs were more intimate, a collection of marks left behind by the people he loved most. His tattoos meant the world to him, a visual language of his life, but his piercings? Those were just for the thrill, for pleasure.

Marco reveled in the sensation of body modification — the sting of the needle, the sharp pinch as it penetrated his skin, the brief rush of pain followed by the cool metal resting against his body. He enjoyed it all, the controlled discomfort and the way it made him feel more connected to himself. His piercings were no exception. His earlobes had been pierced for as long as he could remember, a small tribute to Vale. Then there was the nipple piercing, something he'd gotten purely for the fun of it, a playful indulgence that had become part of his signature look.

But of all the things Marco had done to modify his body, there was one recent addition that stood out as his favorite. It wasn't just another tattoo or a piercing on a whim — it was something he had planned, something that had taken him a long time to commit to. A little over two months ago, he had taken the leap and pierced his frenum himself, something he’d always been curious about but hesitant to do. It wasn’t the fear of pain that had held him back, but the idea of abstaining from sex with Marc during the healing process. The thought of waiting had always been the hardest part.

However, when Marc had been stuck in Spain for roughly ninety days, the perfect opportunity presented itself. With Marc away, Marco found the time to let the piercing heal without any distractions, giving it the necessary care and attention it required. The idea of surprising Marc when he returned had been a driving force, and now, after weeks of anticipation, that day had finally arrived.

The piercing had healed perfectly, just as Marco had hoped, and today was the day he'd reveal it to Marc. The thought of seeing Marc's reaction filled him with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. He knew it would be worth the wait, and he couldn't help but smile at the idea of how it would change things between them.

As Marc stepped through the door, Marco's heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves. He had been waiting for this moment for weeks, but now that it was finally here, the reality of it hit him. The anticipation of revealing his surprise to Marc had been building up, and now it was time to see his boyfriend's reaction.

"Hey," Marc greeted with a warm smile, stepping closer and pulling Marco into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of Marc washed over him, calming some of the jitters that had been swirling inside. Marco relaxed in his arms for a moment, savoring the warmth and comfort that Marc always brought with him.

But then the nervous energy crept back in. This wasn’t just a casual reunion. He pulled away slightly, biting his lip as he debated how to bring up the surprise. How do you even casually announce that you’d pierced your dick?

Marc, ever observant, raised an eyebrow, sensing something was up. "You okay?" he asked, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "You look like you're about to tell me something big."

Marco chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Well, yeah. I’ve got a little... surprise for you." His voice wavered slightly, but the playful glint in his eyes helped keep the mood light.

Marc’s curiosity was piqued instantly. "Oh? What kind of surprise?" He leaned in, his hands resting on Marco’s hips, clearly intrigued.

Taking a deep breath, Marco steeled himself. "Okay, so, while you were gone, I may have... made a little change." He stepped back, his hands fumbling slightly with his belt as he undid his jeans. Marc’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

Marco tugged his pants down just enough to reveal the piercing on the underside of his shaft, glancing up nervously to gauge Marc’s reaction. The silence that followed felt like an eternity.

Marc’s gaze locked onto the metal gleaming against Marco’s skin. His eyes flickered with surprise, then with something deeper, darker. Slowly, a grin spread across his face — equal parts impressed and amused. "Damn," he breathed, his voice low and filled with an almost reverent awe. "You really went for it."

Marco’s heart raced as Marc’s fingers ghosted over the piercing, careful but clearly curious. "I wanted to surprise you," Marco said, his voice quieter now. "It’s been healed for a bit, and... well, I thought you’d like it."

Marc’s grin widened, his gaze flicking back up to meet Marco’s. "Like it? I love it." There was a possessive edge to Marc’s voice now, and Marco’s stomach flipped at the intensity of his expression. "You’ve been waiting all this time to show me, haven’t you?"

Marco nodded, a flush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, I wanted it to be perfect when you came back."

Marc’s hand slipped around Marco’s waist, pulling him in closer. "It is perfect," Marc whispered, his breath hot against Marco’s ear. "And now I can’t wait to see how it feels."

Marc’s grip tightened on Marco’s waist as his words hung in the air, the smirk on his face sending a shiver down Marco’s spine. Without another word, Marc guided Marco through the hallway and into their bedroom, the door closing behind them with a soft click. The familiar room felt different now — charged with an almost electric tension that made Marco’s pulse race.

As they stepped inside, Marc turned to face Marco, his eyes dark with hunger. He wasted no time, pulling Marco close again, their bodies flush together, lips grazing but not quite meeting. His hands wandered, fingers brushing over Marco’s skin with an almost teasing lightness, making Marco ache with anticipation.

Marc’s voice dropped lower, the playful edge still there but laced with something more primal. "Don’t just stand there, you tease," he said, his breath warm against Marco’s ear. "Come and let me taste."

The words sent a thrill through Marco, his stomach flipping at the command. Marc stepped back just enough to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving Marco's. There was a silent dare in the way Marc’s gaze raked over him, waiting, expecting.

Marco swallowed, heat pooling in his chest as he shed the rest of his clothes, his movements slow and deliberate, teasing Marc right back. The way Marc’s eyes darkened with each piece of clothing that fell made Marco’s heart pound harder.

When Marco was finally standing before him, bare and vulnerable, Marc’s lips curved into a predatory grin. He reached out, his hands gripping Marco’s hips with firm, possessive strength, pulling him in closer until Marco was right in front of him.

Marc’s hands slid down Marco’s thighs, tracing the ink on his skin as he leaned in, lips grazing Marco’s skin with a whisper of a kiss. "Let’s see just how good of a surprise this really is," Marc murmured, his voice thick with anticipation, the weight of his words sending another rush of heat through Marco’s body. “Can I touch it?”

Marco makes a high pitched noise. Marc turns to look up at him with a carefully blank face.

“Sì, if you… if you want,” he says. 

Marc does want that. He's fully sitting up now, hovering over Marco's dick like a kid staring down at an ant hill, curiosity actively killing the cat. He reaches out a hand and thumbs at the little metal ball at the tip. Marco jumps and Marc snatches his hand back. 

“Did I hurt you?” Marc asks. 

“No, uh- the opposite, actually,” Marco says with a hoarse voice. It takes a moment for that to register in Marc's mind. The opposite. He hums to himself like this isn't anything interesting, and reaches out to press at it again. It slides around the skin directly under his tip like he assumes any piercing can. He tries pushing it to the side, pressing on the hole, and Marco twitches again. He drops his hand to press at the metal balls popping out from his shaft. Marco's grip around his dick tightens. Marc takes a peek at his face. He's got one forearm slung over his eyes, head turned to the side. His mouth is hanging open. 

Marc slowly wraps his fingers around the tip and lets his thumb push in on the piercing. Marco sucks in a sharp breath and his hips snap up once. He's fully hard now, and he lets himself go to tangle his fingers in the bedsheets. Marc rolls his thumb around the piercing, marveling at how it's placed prettily right at his eye level, straining with a red flush traveling down from the tip. It's dumb. Marc knows this is how it works, he's got a dick of his own. But it captures all of his attention anyway, the way it's starting to turn a little red at the tip. The way he's finally back with his boyfriend after far too long apart.

It's so intensely quiet. Other than their neighbour’s TV and the sounds of the city, without the constant hum of electricity buzzing around them, Marc can hear every little gasp Marco makes. This is turning into something more than simple curiosity about his boyfriends new addition. Sweat rolls down Marc's back. He pushes on the piercing again and wonders what it would taste like. He's bit Marco's earlobes, sucked his nipple, but the thought of the metal moving with Marco's dick as he sucks him dry pulls him in.

“How does it feel?” Marc asks. His voice is thick and he has to clear his throat. Marco slowly lowers the arm covering his face and opens his eyes to stare at Marco. 

“When you cum?” Marc clarifies. This doesn't seem to shock Marco any less. 

“It's…uh. Nice,” Marc says carefully. 

“Nice? Really? You're friends with poetic DJ's and that's the best you can come up with?” Marc teases. 

Marco's cheeks are flushed, his curls a little frizzy from his arms up in his hair. He's already flushed with sweat from the heat, but there's a new layer of intensity coating his being.

“I don't know how it'd feel in, Marc. I'm the one with the piercing,” Marco says weakly. 

“You can't use your imagination?” Marc pushes petulantly. He rubs his thumb over the tip again, looking right into Marco's eyes. He's about one step away from giving him a hand job, and Marco's dick is only getting firmer and firmer in his hand. Marco sucks in a sharp breath.

“Marc,” he says, like a warning. 

Marc can feel his own dick straining against his shorts. He's into this. He's so fucking into it. He wants it in his mouth. The thought has him leaking in his underwear. 

“Can I do more?” he asks, too nervous to be specific despite the fact that they've done so much more than handjobs. Marco's dick twitches. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

Mar leans down and licks the piercing. Marco sucks in a gasp and thrusts his hips up, shoving his dick past Marc's lips.

“Holy fuck, Marc-” he hisses. 

Marc sucks the dick into his mouth, rolling his tongue across the barbell, playing with the cool metal just because he can. Marco throws his hands over his face and moans. His hips are moving without any restraint now, and Marc lifts his face from Marco's crotch with a wet pop just to hear the way he cries at the loss. He lightly drags his tongue around the head, licking up precum with glee. He's so fucking into it. He always loved going down on Marco, loved the way he squirmed, the way he sounded and tasted. He loves it even more now.

He lowers a hand to his crotch and pulls at his underwear. He's fully hard now, his shorts are doing nothing to hide it. Marco's chest is heaving.

“Is this ok?” Marc asks.

“Of course it's- oh my god!” Marco cries, as Marc dips his head lower. There’s something about it. The musky scent, the ache already forming in his jaw, the way the piercing drags against the back of his tongue as he pushes his head further and further down Marco's burning shaft. He could do it forever.

Marco's kind of quiet, which Marc didn't expect. He thought he'd be more vocal after the piercing. Marc looks up at him and meets his eyes. He's not sure what Marco sees- probably Marc's increasingly reddening cheeks as he touches himself, but it makes Marco shout, and then something hot hits the back of Marc's throat. 

He drops Marco's dick from his mouth, more startled from the suddenness than anything else, and then Marco's cum shoots across his face. A wave of pleasure hits him like a truck, and then he's staring down at a wet spot on Marco's thigh and the bedsheets.

He and Marco are breathing heavily, staring at each other in a comfortable silence. 

Marc wants to do it again. He wants to lick his own cum off Marco's thigh and then kiss him stupid. Maybe find out more about the benefits of a dick piercing. But Marco's completely frozen, eyes glossed over.

“That was fucking hot,” Marc says, and Marco laughs a little crazily, eyes wide like he can't believe it. 

“Yeah,” he says.

“We should do it again,” Marc says, sliding closer.

“Yeah?” Marco smiles, Marc acting as if this wasn't usually a daily occurance for him.

Marc situates himself so he's sitting on top him, straddling his waist. Marco's hands carefully wrap around to grope his ass, and Marc realizes just how much he missed this, missed being in Marco's arms.

“Definitely. And then, maybe again after that.”

“Oh you think you can keep up, Marq-” Marco begins to tease, the tension slipping from his body.

Marc cut him off with a kiss. And a few hours later, when Vale called to ask why Marco hadn't shown up to train at the ranch, they were too busy to notice. 

[karlachismylife]

Total eclipse of the heart

re-posting this since it was buried by that shadowban, so sorry if you've already seen this, i appreciate every one of you!!

Dog tags can be so many things, learns Karlach when she spots an unfamilar piece of jewelry among other alien things Soap brought from his world.

Second part (NSFW) here - Worshipping the Sun

Everything about these four men was foreign and piqued curiosity: from their clothes and ammunition to the way they spoke and treated every task given as a unit. Believing they came from another world wasn't that hard given the unfortunate circumstances, what's news about some other dimension after you were literally carrying a "gift" that travelled through space in your head? If there were illithids, githyanki, devils and gods, was it really so unbelievable that somewhere else there was a world with buildings that could house hundreds of people and weapons able to kill that same amount of people in mere seconds? Yet somehow these four very mortal, very normal men were more of a mystery than whatever Gale was hiding under his robe or Shadowheart kept in her pocket.

It was mostly in how different their reality seemed to what everyone else in the party knew. No matter how well they were trained to adapt to anything and everything, coming to terms with magic, shapeshifters and pacts with devils was much harder for those who called themselves "task force 141" than it was for every other member of the party to get used to their unusual arsenal of (mostly useless now as it turned out) weapons or tales of "tanks" and "helicopters". They surely tried to hide it, but the wariness that showed in their stances when approaching the most mundane things like a little water creation scroll was noticeable even in the less readable Ghost, even moreso in the expressive Soap. He would curse, mouth agape, thick accent and wide open blue eyes, no matter if he saw a goblin horde charging their way or Halsin having a thoughtful conversation with a random squirrel. At the beginning Johnny even had a bruise on his tanned arm from earnestly pinching it every time he witnessed something out of the ordinary; Ghost kept chastasing him for putting on a full comedy yet not even once refused to pinch his sergeant when asked.

To be honest, Karlach thought it was very funny.

She was a whole bunch of unbelievable things put into one for him; from the devilish appearance to the god forsaken engine, and her quickly growing friendship - or comradery - with the task force and especially Johnny allowed for the longest conversations consisting mainly of questions about every single thing they found odd in each other. She would sit next to him, a safe distance to keep poor lad from cooking alive, smiling cheeks propped onto big red palms and tail curling and swishing as Soap told her about random Earth bullshit - grenades, football clubs, obscure scottish alt bands... and Karlach definitely tried her best to imagine all those wild things, even if her interpretation sometimes was slightly off.

"What's that?" Her claw pointed at his chest, making Soap glance down. Was she talking about his vest? He pushed his thumbs under the heavy weight and lifted it slightly off his shoulders, cocking a bushy eyebrow. "No, I meant this... is that an amulet? You better keep an eye on it, soldier, I heard Gale's getting hungry. What's it for?"

His dog tags. He almost forgot about the dangling pieces, two non-reflecting circles with an engraving that wouldn't make much sense to Karlach even if she could read it. With a chuckle, Soap pulled the chain off and wrapped it around his fist, showing off dark letters to the tiefling's marvelling gaze.

"Nae, lass, these aren't an amulet. Tis 'n identification tag. So that they'll ken what name tae put on a grave even if mah handsome mug is in ten different places." Karlach scooted even closer, narrowing her tiger eyes in an attempt to look properly. "Tis here mah name, mah blood type, mah service number... the whole lad in five lines. Quite concise, isnae it?"

Concise it was. Those little characters stamped into firm steel were unreadable to her, yet they were everything that would be left of Johnny for sure in this world. No one would remember him as a kid playing football, not a crying widow clutching her wedding band, no devastated mother with a family picture in a black frame, no bookshop keepers that used to scold him for sneaking a peek or two into the adult magazines at the age of fifteen. Even when the whole party would be gone, failed to preserve each other, turned into tentacle-faced mosters or buried in a desolated place, there would be someone to remember, someone to mourn.

Yet everything Johnny and his lads would have are these little steel discs that will never tell anyone how deep the northern sea in his eyes was, how invisible the formiddable mount of Ghost could get in any environment, how fast Gaz could solve a puzzle even in a temple of an unknown god in a land he didn't know even existed, how lush was Price's beard... a number, a name and a religion no one in Faerûn even heard of. Here, in a whole another world, these tags danglng over Soap's knuckles were nothing more than just a constant reminder of impending death. A part of his grave already hanging down from his neck.

"Not much use of it here then, is there?" Karlach couldn't keep the flooding thoughts inside. She looked up at Johnny's smiling - still smiling, like he was proud to show off how little would be left of him - face. "They didn't give us anything like this in Avernus. Probably just as useless anyway, no one's burying anyone there. No one cares."

"Take 'em." He said it with such ease. Reached out his hand and let go of the chain, allowing it to slip right into Karlach's catching grasp. The tags were still carrying that barely noticeable warmth of his palm, and Karlach squeezed them instinctively, savouring this surrogate touch with eyes shut and breath slightly wavering. "I'm in no rush to die, eh. "'N ye get to ken wha' it's like to be a part o' a team tha' cares."

Karlach opened her eyes and looked at the slowly heating up tags on her big palm. The initial devastating thought of wearing your own death around your neck slowly withered away, like a large piece of ash on the wind. Being a part of the team, knowing there were other soldiers to have your back... that was a thought she could get behind.

"Doesn't feel right, mate. They're yours, your name and everything..." Before she could even give them back, Soap stood up, grabbing his gun like a kid dragging a toy by its little plush paw.

"Och, tis right if ah give them to ye. C'mon, just wear them until we make ye yer own." Johnny checked one of the straps on his thigh and then suddenly winked at Karlach. "Besides, maybe ah just wanntae see ye sportin' mah name around tha' bonnie neck, soldier. Fur protection purposes, ye ken."

She blinked, feeling her cheeks - and engine for that matter - slightly heating up, and then quickly slid the chain over her head, careful not to catch it with horns. Hanging on her chest, the dark round plate in front of glowing sunshine of her engine looked like a solar eclipse.

"So it is an amulet after all," she muttered, touching now warm metal with clumsy fingers. Soap smirked, unable to hide his own blush. Despite a heavy tactical vest his chest seemed vulnerable and bare without the tags. Like anyone would be able reach a hand and rip his heart out as they did to Karlach.

Well, they would be able if his heart wasn't already snatched.

"Aye, bonnie. Fur ye it is."

[pahtoosh]

doctor daddy

[image ID: a behind the scenes photo of Sebastian Stan as Lee Bodecker from The Devil All The Time. He is standing with his hands in his pockets and looking off into the distance. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~980 words

warnings: Lee wants to beat someone up(no one in particular, he’s just frustrated), reader is in physical pain, mentions of painkillers, written on my phone, sappy and needy reader as usual. Lee carries reader.

a/n: this picture makes me giggle, I wonder what he’s thinking about.

pairing: lee bodecker x gn!little!reader

summary: Lee’s baby is hurting

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Pain and suffering: that’s all you knew. The sun never seemed so dull and the nights never seemed so cold. You wondered if you’d survive the ne-

“Baby?”

Oh! Daddy’s home!

Lee quickly toed off his shoes and met you at the couch, setting down his paper grocery bag along the way. You looked adorable swaddled up in a blanket with your stuffed bunny, but Lee’s heart couldn’t help but ache for you.

You’d been stuck on the couch all day. Standing or even sitting up required too much energy, not to mention that shifting positions could mean upsetting your body further.

Earlier today Lee wanted to call in sick and tend to you, but you assured him that you would be okay as he went on with his shift at the station. He lovingly carried you to the couch where he’d set up everything you could’ve possibly needed while he was gone. Blankets, painkillers, snacks, water, books, and the TV remote were all within reach. Your daddy left you with a kiss on the forehead and strict instructions to rest up, drink water, eat a snack, and call him if you needed help.

You obliged with a yes, daddy and made it through the next seven hours still in pain, bored, and missing your daddy. You were so happy when he came home, but your state meant you had to wait for him to come to you instead of running to meet him at the door as usual. Luckily, Lee wasted no time getting to your side. He’d missed you just as much as you’d missed him.

He held your smaller hand in his and gave you three gentle kisses on your forehead, the tip of your nose, and your puffed out lip. Lee normally loved your pouty face but knowing that this one was caused by your state of pain rather than an adorable neediness made it less enjoyable. He almost wished there was a single person responsible for your pain so he could take it out on them, but he knew all he could do now was be here for you.

“How ya feelin’ sweetie?”

“Hurts, Daddy.”

Lee muttered a curse under his breath and gently massaged the hand he was holding. “My poor baby. ‘ wish there was somethin’ I could do to help. I could beat up someone right now, makes me so mad seein’ my baby hurt like this.”

You shook your head and pulled his hand closer. “Just need Daddy.”

Lee smiled for the first time that day. “And you’ll get him, sweetheart. Just let me help ya out a little first, yeah? I stopped by the store and got somethin’.”

You raised your eyebrows in curiosity. Lee normally just bought the essentials, and you technically had everything you could need to recover at home already. He tucked your arm back under the blanket and began pulling stuff out of the bag.

“I gotcha a different kinda pain medicine, this one’s a cream. There’s a new thermometer, in case the old one wasn’ workin’ right and my baby really is sick. This here’s a new pair of socks to keep yer feet warm and protected. And this is a lollipop for being my good ‘n brave little baby.”

You admired your new socks and treat with a soft thank you daddy and let Lee fuss over you with his new supplies. He cleaned the new thermometer and let out a sigh of relief when it confirmed that you were at a safe temperature. He swapped out your old, worn-out socks with the new, softer ones. And then he carefully peeled back the blanket and your clothing to rub in the pain-relief cream.

After Lee washed his hands, he climbed in behind you on the couch, replacing the numerous pillows and blankets with his solid body. His round belly fit perfectly into the curve of your back, and his strong arms acted like a weighted blanket. He knew just how to support you to keep you comfortable and ease your pain.

In this position, he could also speak to you in a hushed tone and feel butterflies in his chest whenever you whispered back or snuggled closer to him.

You asked him about his day. He kept it brief, mostly talking about how much he missed you. He only shared the details of his work with you when you were at your big age; Lee was very diligent about preserving the safety of your little mind.

He turned the question on you, listening to you describe the episodes of Bugs Bunny you watched and what antics your stuffies got into today. He loved hearing about your inner world. Lee never got to explore his imagination too much. His responsibilities kept him tied to the real world, so he admired that you were able to keep that part of you alive while still dealing with your own issues.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence before you were overcome with the need to tell your daddy how much you appreciate him.

“Thank you for takin’ care of me, Daddy.”

Lee kissed the back of your head. “It’s no problem, sweetheart. That’s what daddies are for. You feelin’ any better? That pain medicine doin’ its job yet?”

“Mhm.” You nodded and then turned your head to muffle your next sentence, shy about the sappy words about to leave your mouth. “Daddy’s the best medicine though.”

Lee chuckled and pulled you closer if that was possible. “Oh yeah? What makes ya say that?”

You squeezed his arms wrapped around you and wiggled against his belly, proving your point. “Daddy’s soft and cozy and strong. And Daddy gives the best cuddles.”

Lee shook his head, not believing how lucky he was to have you in his life. “Daddy loves you, baby. And I’ll never stop cuddling you.”

[valeovalairs]

you guys keep putting my chip beheadment doodles in my activity and I need you all too know I am fighting the urge to write/draw something for that so hard right now as a result

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Just a little ficlet I came up with to celebrate Christmas! And yes, all of the information mentioned in this fic is truthful to the best of my knowledge! [now on ao3!]

taglist: @accidental-spice @kanerallels @ouatnextgen @booksteaandtoomuchtv

"Um, actually..."

"Uh oh," Hope said with a smile as she walked across the room to her boyfriend.

"Something wrong?" Gideon asked.

"Not at all," Hope rested her elbow on his shoulder, despite how much taller he was. "You're under the mistletoe."

"Yeah?"

"So that means I have to kiss you." Hope said, booping his nose with her finger. "You know how those silly little traditions are."

"Not really," Gideon said. "In actuality, the earliest roots of the tradition only related to ladies standing under the mistletoe. There's no historical record of if anything happens at all if a gentleman does."

"You're really killing the moment here, Gid."

"And also, the tradition didn't even require the men to kiss women who found themsleves under the mistletoe, it just said the women aren't allowed to refuse if they do choose to kiss them."

Apparently, the time-honored Christmas tradition of using a decorative plant as an excuse to do something you wouldn't mind doing anyways was no match for the time-honored Gideon tradition of frustrating Hope's coquette advances with oblivious intelligence. This one needed a more direct approach.

"Well, would you refuse if I chose to kiss you, Gid?" She asked, with a playful batting of the eyes.

"Of course not." Gideon said, then looked down at her with a surprised smile. "Are you gonna kiss me, Hope?"

"If it'll get you to stop ruining perfectly fine holiday traditions with all your stupid facts."

"Well in that case," Gideon smiled in his own understanding of the assignment, "did you know that, despite being widely regarded as one of the most beloved Christmas carols, Joy to the World is not actually about Christmas?"

"Yeah," Hope said, stepping up on tiptoes so her nose brushed against his, "ones like that."

He leaned down just a bit, closing the distance between their lips and sealing it with a kiss.

Hope pulled away and saw a smug smile on Gideon's face.

"Jingle bells isn't technically a Christmas Carol either." He said. "It's about Thanksgiving."

Though Gideon didn't always get her hints, she understood his perfectly, and gave him another quick peck on the lips.

"You know," Gideon said, "by definition, a carol is a song where the choruses are sung in Latin, but the verses...."

Hope sighed and rolled her eyes. As much as she loved his rambling, she loved stopping him from rambling all the more, and her preferred method of doing so: she grabbed his collar and interrupted him, not with words, but with another kiss, this time one that lasted a little bit longer.