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tripleaxeldiaz · 1 year

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until the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away (i’m yours)

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The sun is setting, a warm orange glow seeping in through the blinds, when he comes into Buck’s room. Everyone else had been in and out already with hugs and goodbyes and promises of visiting tomorrow — everyone except Eddie. And judging from the redness still fading from around his eyes and the way he’s forcibly trying to keep his shoulders away from his ears, Buck thinks he understands why.

He’s been in Eddie’s shoes. No amount of therapy or coping mechanisms could have stopped the ice cold, all encompassing tendrils of panic from taking over his body and mind when Eddie was buried alive or shot in broad daylight. Even after running into the hospital room after Eddie woke up, he had to take 10 minutes in the bathroom to collect himself before he could open his mouth without bursting into tears.

So he gets it. He’s not mad.

He’s just really glad he’s here.

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice soft and low, almost as soft as the one he uses with Chris when he’s sick. Buck watches him make his way to the chair next to his bed and sit down, hesitating for a breath before pulling the chair as close to the bed as he can get.

Good. Buck would’ve pulled him over himself if he hadn’t.

“Hey,” he says back, sitting up straighter against his pillow. He’s not in pain exactly but he feels…uncomfortable. No position he sits in ever feels good enough, standing for too long makes him dizzy. The nurses are right, of course, he’s definitely still healing, he just wishes he didn’t feel like he was about to vibrate out of his skin while it was happening.

That may be a him thing, though, nothing at all to do with being struck by thousands of volts of electricity and all to do with him being restless, bouncing off the wall Buck.

A Buck that he no longer resents. Except in this moment when he just wants to relax.

They’re quiet as he adjusts himself, finally settling and facing Eddie as best he can. “Did Chris go home?”

“Yeah, about half an hour ago. Carla took him, he’s got school in the morning.” Eddie picks at a loose thread coming off the blanket covering the bed, and Buck notices he’s shaking. He wants to reach out, to hold him, to show him that he’s okay, that he’ll be back to normal in no time, but he looks like a strong breeze would shatter him where he sits, so he stays put. Eddie clears his throat before talking again, eyes never leaving the thread. “Did he tell you how we snuck him in to see you?”

Buck smiles. “He did. Made it sound a lot like a heist.”

“I wouldn’t call distracting one nurse a heist,” Eddie says. The corner of his mouth just barely ticks upwards, as close to a smile as Buck expects to see from him today. “But you know Chris, he could charm the pants off anyone without even trying.”

“Sounds like his dad.” Eddie rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears go Buck’s favorite shade of pink, and he’s grateful that he gets to see it again. But the levity is brief — his brow furrows again, and Buck sees him bite the inside of his cheek, watches the shaking get a little more pronounced. His hand had moved up the blanket at some point, coming to rest right next to Buck’s where it rests. Eddie traces the outside of his pinky, softly, gently, like he’s worried about Buck shattering too. He takes a couple deep breaths and moves his hand again, twisting their pinkies together. The vibrations that have been coursing through Buck for days now quiet down the smallest amount, but it’s enough. It’s a relief. He’s touching Eddie, and it feels grounding, steady, sure.

It feels like a lifeline.

“I was really scared,” Eddie says, quiet enough to almost be absorbed by the blankets and bedding. “I saw you hanging there and I just ran, I didn’t even think about it. And then you wouldn’t—we couldn’t—” his breath shudders. “You were so still. I’ve never seen you that still.”

Buck sits up then, moving so he’s cross-legged on the bed, looking at Eddie straight on. He twists their already clasped hands until they’re fully intertwined, grabs the other one too and holds on tight. He squeezes once, twice, three times, before Eddie takes the hint and looks him in the eye. They’re bright and shining with tears and Buck still wants to get lost in them, even when they’re breaking his heart.

“I remembered you, you know,” he says. Eddie cocks his head, confused. “Not the dream version of you, I didn’t even meet that version. But the real you, the one that had my back when I went up the ladder. The one that always has my back. I remembered that. I remembered you, before anyone else.”

Eddie ducks his head again just before his shoulders shake, still trying in vain to keep everything together, either for Buck’s sake or his own. He wishes he could drill it into his stubborn brain that it’s okay to break, that Buck has picked up the pieces before and he will every other time after, that he fought like hell to get back to this family, to this Eddie, shrapnel and all. Instead, he holds Eddie’s hand a little bit tighter, threads his other hand through the hairs at the back of his neck, and rests his forehead on Eddie’s crown. His hair smells like cedar and cinnamon and faintly of smoke. It smells like Eddie. It smells like home.

They sit up after a while, but neither goes very far — their hands are still clutched together and Eddie is tracing nonsense on the inside of Buck’s wrist. He can’t believe that even for a minute, he didn’t want to come back to this — to Bobby on his way with In ‘n’ Out, to Hen and Chim ordering a cake with a horrible joke on it in the waiting room, to Maddie’s smile and Chris’ laugh.

To Eddie holding his hand.

“Thank you,” Eddie says, softly but fiercely. He looks Buck in the eye again, determined and steady, like he’s trying to piece himself back together by sheer force of will. “For coming back to us. We need you, Buck, more than I think we’ll ever be able to tell you.”

He brings one of Eddie’s hands up to his heart, and the last of the vibrations finally melt away. He feels still again, but not in a scary way. In a way he’s not sure he’s ever been, even before being struck by lightning.

“I’ll always come back,” Buck says, a truth he knows better than his own name. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a trippy purgatory nightmare to keep me away from you.”

Eddie smiles, a real, joyful smile that crinkles at his eyes and makes Buck want to sing. He presses his lips to the inside of Buck’s wrist — in prayer, in thanks, in a promise.

It hits him then as hard as it’s hit since he opened his eyes: Buck’s home. People love him.

He finally believes it.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #911 fic #911 spoilers #HELLO SHE STILL REMEMBERS HOW TO WRITE #ficcery

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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'til kingdom come - tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

the evolution of your relationship with peter parker.

a/n: my entry for the April TFC Writing Challenge! it was for a fic based on a song, (til kingdom come by coldplay - off the soundtrack!) I happened to watch The Amazing Spider-Man and No Way Home in the same weekend, and well, here we are. enjoy! 🤍 (just for the record - this would be no way home era tasm!peter parker, so at least a 5-6 years older than at the end of tasm 2!)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mentions of car accidents, hospital stays, broken bones, fluff, not completely explicit but still explicit smut, this was INCREDIBLY self-indulgent and I regret nothing

✨@friskito-library for updates on new works!✨

You’re used to him disappearing, at this point.

To waking in the middle of the night to an empty half of the bed, the pillow still warm, the only sign that he was here at all your scattered clothes on the ground, the ghost of a kiss on your mouth, and the satisfied hum in your bloodstream. It’s routine, to a degree, and has you burying your face in his pillow, chasing whatever remnants you can until he comes back.

And he always comes back.

It started as some kind of strange, electric current that ran beneath your skin when this doe-eyed scrap of a man paused in the doorway of your hospital room. He heard you crying, walked in, concern in that chocolate-coloured gaze and asked you if you were alright. Given the circumstance, your leg casted six ways to Sunday and a painful crick in your neck, you blubbered out a no, but then he introduced himself - “Peter Parker, I’m…I’m Peter.” - as he handed you a tissue, and then all of a sudden he was sinking into the chair at your bedside, distracting you from the pain.

“You don’t even know me,” you protested, shaking your head.

He’d just lifted a shoulder, dragging the chair a little closer. He handed you another tissue, asked if you wanted some water. “If you told me your name, then I would.” His grin was infectious. “Besides, when I heard you crying, I couldn’t just keep walking.”

You talked for hours. Until the nurse came in and declared visiting hours over, your evening round of pain meds in your hand. Peter hovered as she pushed the syringe into your IV, and your vision swirled at the edges. Ah, morphine. “Say your goodbyes,” the nurse prompted, giving him a pointed glare. “Boyfriend can come back in the morning.”

“He’s not my…” you trailed off, the meds kicking in fast, making your words slur. Your hand flopped off the edge of the bed, and Peter could resist the urge to squeeze his fingers around yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he grinned, and you were out cold by the time he reached the door to your room.

You saw him the next day. And the next day. The day after that, and the day after that. He became a permanent fixture in the chair at your bedside, distracting you with anecdotes and cheesy jokes while your leg healed. He never showed up at the same time each day, but learned the visiting hours window quickly, and was good with his timing, always showing up within it. Your nurse still had to kick him out when he showed up later in the day, your visits often trailing well past the end of visiting hours, but she let him stay longer more than once.

He was there the day they discharged you, and helped you into the taxi to take you back to your apartment. He was patient, helping you up the steps and into the elevator, carrying your bags. At that point, you knew each other supremely well, and there was something so comforting about being around Peter, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You hungry?” he asked, setting you up on your couch, propping your leg up the way the nurse had instructed. “I’m no chef, but I make a mean boxed mac and cheese.”

“Everything in my fridge has probably gone bad,” you pouted, wincing as you adjusted slightly. “It’s been weeks since I’ve been home.”

“Shit. Right.”

“Pizza?”

He grinned, nodding in agreement. “Pizza.”

And so you spent the day together on your couch, watching old movies and eating pizza. Peter made sure you had water close by, doled out the meds the hospital had given you, fluffed your pillows.

You forgot about the pain, and it wasn’t the drugs.

And before long, you were half asleep, as you were most nights when he visited you in the hospital. Except now, your head lolled on his shoulder, his t-shirt covered chest rising and falling beneath your hand. “I should go,” he mumbled into your hair. “Let you get some rest.”

“I can sleep here,” you mumbled back. “You can take my bed, if you want. You don’t have to go.” You hummed, your voice drenched with sleep, and then you were out like a light.

You woke some time later in your bed, your leg propped up on pillows, blankets pulled to your chin. There was a note on your nightstand, scrawled in a hasty hand.

Couldn’t leave you on the couch. Quite the first date, if you ask me. Hope you slept well - Peter x

Your eyes lingered on the words first date, and you tried to ignore the thump in your chest, but no matter what you did, it wouldn’t go away.

About a month later, after your cast was removed, the first few rounds of physical therapy done, and you were feeling good.

Good enough to call Peter out.

You’d finally gone back to work, and perched at your desk, staring out the window on your lunch break, you dialed his number. You’d seen each other a few times since you’d been discharged, the odd cup of coffee when you were both free. But the note he’d left at your bedside still lingered in the back of your mind. You needed to know.

“Hello?” he answered with a grunt, and it sounded windy as hell wherever he was. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, spine prickling at the concern in his voice. “Everything’s fine, I’m just…”

“You’re what?” he questioned, almost heaving a breath on the other line.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He grunted, and there was a sound like he almost dropped the phone. “You’re what?”

“You called it a first date,” you spewed out, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “The day I came home from the hospital, when you stayed with me.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess I did.” You could almost see the blush in his cheeks. “Is that okay with you?”

“It is,” you said slowly, ignoring the whip of wind on his end of the line. “But you realize that calling it a first date implies that there’s gonna be a second date.”

“Does it?”

“It does.”

“Then how about I pick you up at seven?”

“I wasn’t gonna do this,” you breathed out against his mouth. His hands - god, his hands - were on your hips, pulling you against him while his lips ghosted over yours. He’d spent the elevator ride mapping out the curve of your jaw, making your pulse jump beneath your skin as he roamed your neck. “I was gonna make you wait, I was gonna-”

“Shut up,” he mumbled back, and his hands jumped from your hips to your mouth, pulling you more firmly against him, his lips claiming yours. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

He’d knocked on your door at almost half past seven, and as you yanked the door open, some chastising comment about him being late, he’d pushed a semi-crushed bouquet of flowers into your hands, leaning forward and pecking your cheek as he murmured, “You look nice.” And the comment died on your tongue.

Dinner was great. The conversation passed between you as easily as ever. You talked about work; your journalism gig was busy as ever, and when you told him you had Spider-Man to thank for your latest front page article. “Your pictures worked perfectly,” you said over the rim of your wine glass, not missing the way his ears turned red. “It was the perfect cover shot.”

“I’m glad.”

A few hours of conversation, a brief tussle over who would pay the bill - Peter won, claiming that it was your article that put his photo on the cover, so he owed you one - and you were walking back to your apartment. You had to stop a few times, rubbing at a rogue pain in your leg, and after the second time, Peter tugged on your hand until you were behind him, then gestured for you to hop up.

“Are you insane? Peter, I’m not light, you can’t-”

“I carried you to bed on our first date,” he quipped, dropping his hands and turning around. He watched the puzzle pieces fit together in your expression, the details sussing themselves out. It formed a little dip between your brows, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and smoothing his thumb over it.

“You did, didn’t y-”

And then he kissed you. Right there on the street, lamplight pouring over the both of you, the slight pain in your leg forgotten.

You were speechless when he pulled back, and a moment later, you were on his back, the pair of you striding towards your apartment.

He’d kissed you again in the lobby as he set you back on your feet. Again as you waited for the elevator. When it was blessedly empty, he crowded you into the corner and pushed his face into your neck, teeth scraping your pulse. When your breath hitched, he did it again. Again and again and again.

Then, inside your apartment, he pushed you against the wall, quieting your words, drinking them down with his hands on your face. Your blood thumped in your ears, heat flaring between your legs as he pushed his tongue between your teeth.

Fuck waiting.

He was careful. Gentle, even, as he snaked his hands back down your body, glancing around the curve of your ass before he was gripping behind your knees, lifting you up and against him. You squeaked at his strength, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you down the hall to your bedroom. You undressed each other slowly, lips never far apart as clothes scattered across the floor.

Something like panic flared in your eyes when you saw the bruises along his ribs, the scratch at his collar, but he kissed you again, silencing your worries when he snuck his hand down your front, fingertips licking at your nerves, pulling sensations to the surface of your body you hadn’t felt in a while.

The carefulness continued, both of you bathed in the darkness, the only source of light the slit in your curtains. Peter moved differently in the dark, somehow anticipating every move you made, as you explored each other. He pulled noises from you you didn’t think yourself capable of, making you cum hard once on his tongue before he was crawling over you on the bed, the ends of his hair tickling your skin as he made his way up to your lips once more.

There was that moment of realness, that pause of trepidation that filled the space between you when you fished a condom out of your nightstand. He hissed when you moved your hand over him, following his movements, tracing his outlines.

When he pushed into you, your good leg wrapped around his hip, his hands braced around your head, his face buried in your collar, you lost what little breath you had left. He managed to find every last nerve you needed touched, and it wasn’t long before you were losing it again, your head thrown back on the pillow, fingers buried in his wayward hard.

You fell asleep shortly after, curled on your side, Peter glued to your back.

But when you woke up, he was gone.

Peter avoided you as long as he could.

He felt bad about it, obviously, the guilt tugging at his insides anytime he saw something that reminded him of you, caught a scent in the air that smelled suspiciously like your shampoo.

He hadn’t wanted to leave. Truthfully, he could have stayed there in your bed all night, even if sleep evaded him. He would have watched you for hours, committed every inch of you to memory as you slept, maybe woke you up once or twice with his mouth or his hands or a combination, just to hear those sweet noises of yours again.

But then his senses had prickled, the scream of alarms outside reaching his ears. You stayed soundly asleep, your brow furrowing again. Despite everything in him yelling that he needed to go, Peter reached out, swiped his thumb across the dip in your skin yet again. It hadn’t disappeared when he’d kissed you hours ago, his movements taking you slightly by surprise, but then, your lashes fluttering with dreams, it smoothed out beneath his touch, and he smiled.

He didn’t want to leave.

He was falling for y-

The thought cut short. He shook his head, snuck out the fire escape and climbed to the roof of the building, pulling his gear out of his bag and disappearing across the city, his senses chasing the alarms.

The thought, and the feeling that accompanied it, wouldn’t leave him alone. Even when he went back home, Aunt May chiding him to eat him something when he appeared in the kitchen the next morning, his mind wandered back to you. You would have woken up alone, the only evidence he was there in the first place being the condom in your garbage can.

And the sucked bruise he’d left on the inside of your thigh.

He was a mix of longing and guilt, heat and despair. His body begged him to go back to you, to apologize as many times as it took for you to let him kiss you again. But his mind said no, told him it was too soon, that his past was too fresh.

But could you really put a timeline on grief?

He’d never forget Gwen, never forget the way he’d held her that night, the way life had so cruelly ripped her away from him. She was a part of him, forever. No amount of time would change that.

Aunt May’s voice echoed in his mind. What she’d said when he found her packing Uncle Ben’s things into boxes.

You’re throwing his stuff away?

No, god, no. I couldn’t do that. It’s part of me. I’m just finding a better place for it. I’m gonna take one last look, and I’m gonna put it where it belongs.

For years now, he wasn’t sure what to do with everything he felt for Gwen. It still loomed around his heart, clutching at him like a vise, sneaking up on him at the most inopportune of moments. The love he’d had for her, it had nowhere else to go, so it sat in him, brewing like oversteeped tea, making him feel sour for what he’d lost.

Finding a better place for it.

Put it where it belongs.

He intended to call you that day. He was running late for an appointment, rushing through the city streets, when he collided with someone, a cup of coffee falling to the sidewalk at his feet. He narrowly avoided the hot liquid, cursing under his breath, and then he caught the scent of your shampoo, forcing himself to ignore the way it twisted his gut.

But then he took a deeper breath, and realized it wasn’t just the smell of your hair.

It was you.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, shame and guilt washing his cheeks rosy. “I’m so sorry, I’m-”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you said, rising to your feet, now-empty coffee cup in hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

He pulled you to the side, avoiding the coffee spill, dragging you into a doorway a few steps up from the sidewalk. You went willingly, but he could see the hesitation in your eyes, and he couldn’t blame you. Your eyes darted anywhere but his face, leaning back against the doorway, chewing at your lip.

“I screwed up,” he said bluntly, and that had your eyes zipping to his. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to sneak out on you, or avoid you, or any of it. I just…I’m sorry.”

Your brow lifted slowly. “You keep saying that.”

“Would you give me another chance?” he asked, the words still pouring out of him. “Please?”

Your chest lifted as you inhaled deeply. “I don’t hear from you for weeks, you come out of nowhere and spill my coffee, and you ask me for a third date?” Your tone was almost flat, but there was a quirk at the corner of your mouth you couldn’t hide.

Daringly, Peter took a step forward, crowding into your space. His hand hovered for a moment before he lifted it, curling his fingers and letting his knuckles trail down your cheek. Your eyes fluttered and he took another step.

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning down until his forehead was pressed to yours. His knuckles caressed your cheek again. “Please.”

Your next inhale was sharp and you tilted your head back, the tip of your nose moving along the curve of his. “I swear to god, Peter Parker, if you disappear on me again, I won’t-”

He was too busy kissing you to hear the end of the sentence.

Three days later, you had him in your bed again. It was an interesting evening, to say the least.

You made him wait this time. Sort of. It was your fourth date now, technically - you’d held out after the dinner he’d taken you to after your collison on th street - but the way he’d kissed you goodnight after this one had you saying fuck it to waiting yet again. There was something different about him, something less haunted in those dark eyes, something less hurried behind his movements.

Your kisses lingered in the elevator, the doorway, the hallway. You drank glasses of water in the kitchen, and Peter was distracted, his eyes catching on the drafts of your latest articles, spread out on the countertop. “No more Spider-Man?”

You lifted a shoulder. “No one’s seen him around in a while,” you answered, stepping close to him. “Plus, my favourite photographer disappeared on me.”

He cracked a smile. “Well, he won’t do that again, I’ve got it on good authority.”

Your smile echoed his. “Good.”

But then just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile faded. “Listen,” he started, his brow going hard, rubbing his hand up the back of his neck. “I promised myself I’d be honest with you, and there’s…there’s something I gotta tell you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, tilting your head to the side as you set your glass down. “So tell me.”

He braced both hands on the sink, pressing his lips together for a long moment before his head turned in your direction. “It was me that saved you that night. The car accident, when you broke your leg.”

Your brows pulled down, instantly confused. “No, it wasn’t. Peter, we didn’t even know each other back then, it was-”

The cops had told you who it was, your nurse repeating the story with the tiniest bit of disdain. It was what had inspired your front page piece, when you finally went back to work. A thank you, of sorts. It was-

“Spider-Man,” Peter says, his jaw hard enough to cut glass. Your head is spinning. “That’s me. I’m Spider-Man.”

You started laughing. Giggling like mad, nearly bent in half. “What are you-”

Without a word, Peter stepped away from you, one hand held palm up, and jumped. The ceilings in your apartment were low, but it was still a good three feet above your head. His bare hand connected with the ceiling…

…and stuck.

He swung slightly, staring down at you, his lips still pressed together.

“You…saved me?” you murmured out, your voice dropping as he did, his feet back on your kitchen tile. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Your memories of the accident were hazy; you’d spun out, your car diving off the edge of the bridge and into the river below. You remember being filled with fear as soon as the car hit the water, but the impact knocked you out. You woke up in the hospital later on, and the cops filled you in, told you that Spider-Man had carried you into the emergency department.

Peter just nodded. His shoulder lifted. “It’s kind of what I do.”

“But then you…?” you trailed off, your brow scrunching again.

He closed the distance between you, his thumb smoothing between your brows, something of a habit of his that you were already growing used to. “Then I came to see you in the hospital. I had to. I had to make sure you were okay.”

“You…You’re Spider-Man.”

He smiled as his hand moved around the outline of your face, his thumb now riding the curve of your lower lip. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“I’m having sex with Spider-Man?”

“I thought we were dating, too.”

You pushed at his chest, curling your fingers in the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him close. “I’m having sex with Spider-Man.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and you kissed the grin off his mouth. He moved faster than your eyes could track, grabbing you up into his arms, carrying you down the hall to your bedroom.

You lay sprawled in your bed hours later, the sun long gone. Peter is stretched out, his arm tucked behind his head, while you are laid on his chest, your chin resting on your hand. You’d only stayed quiet when he’d had his mouth on yours, your questions deterred while he was busy having his fill of you, making those sweet noises echo off the walls of your bedroom. He wasn’t sated, not by a long shot, but he could see the questions on your face as you both came down, chests heaving.

“Go ahead,” he prompts you, tugging you close. “Ask me.”

He tells you everything. He fields every question, tells you as much truth as he could bear. He doesn’t hold anything back, his words spilling out faster with every question on your lips. Soon enough, you’re kissing the words out of each other’s mouths, tangling in the sheets once again.

And then you have a secret of your own to share.

“I’m in love with you.”

His heart stalls in his chest. Every feeling he’d battled over the last few months brought back to the surface. “I…” His eyes search yours, so full of emotion - so full of truth - he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

He’s told you about Gwen. You know what happened, you know the story. And you hadn’t pressed him for details, when he first brought it up. You were in the hospital still, laid out in that bed, him perched in the chair beside you. Your fingers had curled through his when he first brought it up, your eyes shining back at him. “It’s okay, Peter. I…I lost someone too. A long time ago. I get it.”

He wants to. He wants to tell you the same. He wants to admit it - to you, and to himself, finally.

But…

“I can’t,” he says, the words feeling like lead weights on his tongue. “I just-”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you reply, an echo of what you’d said when he’d first told you. “I get it, I just-”

He grabs your forearm, pulling you further up his chest, until he can bury his hand in your hair, his kiss cutting off your sentence. “Can you trust that I want to? That I want to say it, I just…need time? I’m not gonna ask you to wait for me, but if you-”

It’s your turn to cut him off, your mouth lingering on his. “I can wait, Peter. I will wait.”

And so it’s continued. More dates, more nights spent in your apartment. Walks through Central Park, dinners at Aunt May’s. May is in love with you from your very first meeting, which Peter predicted, and it’s all too easy to fall into the patterns, to become an even steadier part of each other’s lives.

Every time he has to go, his senses pulling him to another corner of the city, he sees the concern in your eyes. “Be careful,” you beg him, kissing him soundly. “Come back to me.”

“Always will,” he grins, returning the kiss, ducking out the window.

And he always does.

But now, he’s been gone for hours. You’ve been checking the news like a crazy person, scrolling on your phone, refreshing your best sources every few minutes. But nothing. You even go so far as to call the hospitals, making sure he hasn’t turned up in an emergency department somewhere. You can’t tell May; you can’t worry her like this.

Hours turn into days. You deter May’s worried calls with a white lie that Peter has food poisoning and has been sleeping it off at your place. Almost two days, and your worry is at an all time high. This is different. Something feels different, something you can’t quite put your finger on.

All you can do is wait. You told him you would.

The weird tingling from Dr. Strange’s spell fades, the brightness clouding his vision fading away, and Peter finds himself standing in your living room. A glance at the kitchen clock tells him it’s very early, and as the exhaustion of the last forty-eight hours starts to set in, already making his limbs heavy, he heads for your bedroom, stripping out of the suit as he goes.

By the time he steps through the doorway, he tosses the suit in the direction of your laundry bin. His mind is still spinning, churning with everything he’s witnessed in the last few days. He doesn’t really know how to make sense of it all, but there’s one thing he has to do.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out and covering your shoulder with his hand, shaking gently as he pulls the blankets back with his other hand.

You grumble for a moment, your eyes cracking open, but when you see it’s him, you surge upwards, throwing your arms around his neck. “Peter!”

“Hi, baby,” he mumbles into your neck, dropping the blanket and wrapping his arm around your waist, the other finding a home in your hair. “Sorry I disappeared on you.”

“What happened?” you cry, pulling back, taking his face in your hands, your eyes instantly inspecting him. “You were gone for two whole days, I didn’t know what to-”

He kisses you hard, wrapping your hair around his knuckles. You return the affection, holding him as tightly as he’s holding you. “I wanna tell you what happened, but I don’t totally know myself? All I know is that I’m exhausted, and there’s something that I do have to tell you.”

You pull him down into bed, instantly fitting yourself against his side, pulling the blankets over you both. Puzzle pieces falling into place. Your brown furrows, and he moves his thumb over the dip. “What is it, Peter? Tell me.”

He drags his knuckles down your cheek. “I’m in love with you, too.”

THE END.

#my fics #'til kingdom come #tfc writing challenge #tfc april challenge #peter parker #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker fic #tasm fic #andrew garfield peter parker #idk how else to tag this #tasm peter parker fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm peter parker smut #peter parker smut #Spotify

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q-gorgeous · 1 year

Text

Phantom Limb

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1662

Disabled Danny AU where the arm that hit the 'on' button in the portal was severely damaged and had to be amputated after the accident (potential gore tw). As a halfa, he makes up for having one arm by using telekinesis or creating a new arm out of ice/ectoplasm/what have you (or by another method if the writer prefers, those are just suggestions). @raaorqtpbpdy

its reflective

The accident was the worst day of his life.

It had been awful. When his hand brushed against the power button on the inside of the portal, his body had been filled with thousands and thousands of volts of electricity. The only thing he could hear was the whine of electricity and his own screams as he was electrocuted.

He didn’t remember much after that. The only thing he did remember was falling to the floor in the lab and the sound of Sam and Tucker’s voices as they ran over to where he lay.

The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital.

His eyes had opened groggily. The bright lights on the ceiling blinded him for a few moments until his eyes adjusted. He could hear someone talking to his left. They sounded excited and their voice faded for a moment before it came back. His eyes were still blurry from sleep, but above him he was beginning to make out the shape of his mom’s head.

“Danny!” She smiled. Her eyes were filled with tears. “We’re so glad you’re okay! The doctor’s weren’t sure how long you were going to be out for. They said your recovery was miraculous. They don’t know how you survived a shock of that voltage with no nervous damage.”

Danny’s gaze moved away from his mom’s head. The bright lights behind her were giving him a headache. He closed his eyes and brought his left arm up to rub at his head but stopped short when he didn’t feel his hand touch his hair.

Opening his eyes again, Danny looked at his arm only to see it was missing up to his elbow.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” His mom whispered. “That was the one thing they couldn’t fix.”

He stared at it. It almost felt like the world was playing a trick on him. It was like he could still feel his fingers move, but nothing was there. Half of it was gone.

He burst into tears just as the doctor entered his hospital room

-----

Having one arm took some getting used to.

It made carrying things more difficult, for one. Trying to do chores at first was a nightmare. When he unloaded the dishwasher he had to carry one at a time back and forth until it was empty. Scraping the dirty food off of the plates before putting them in the dishwasher was even more difficult. It made doing the dishwasher take twice as long and it frustrated him to no end.

He was also always dropping things. It was harder to hold onto things because he lost half an arm to hold stuff against his body with.

It got even worse when he found out he had ghost powers too.

The first time he realized something was kind of off was when he woke up in the living room one night when he’d gone to sleep in his bed. He thought maybe he sleep walked downstairs but then it happened a second time the same night and he thought it was weird.

The next thing he had to experience was him falling through the floor one day when Sam and Tucker were over. Amongst the panic, he had a moment of clarity that that must’ve been how he got into the living that night. Because he went through his bed and the floor into the living room. Sam and Tucker had to pull him back up and set him down on the ground.

After seeing his display of ghost powers, they told him that when he stepped out of the portal the day of his accident he had been different. They thought he died. He didn’t look like himself and all they could hear in their heads was how the Fenton’s described ghosts and what they could look like. They were ready to beg him for mercy, assuming he would be malevolent just like all the ghosts his parents had described. But then he fell to the ground and he transformed back to normal. They hadn’t known what happened and since it seemed like it had resolved itself, they were content to keep the info to themselves, especially after learning Danny’s arm had been amputated.

He had mostly figured out his ghost powers before the first ghost came and attacked Amity Park. That was when he found out his body could morph itself to dodge an attack. This was usually done out of instinct, it was something Danny found hard to control.

But there was one fight that had him trapped somewhere, the ghost shooting an ectoblast at him before he could even think of dodging. All he could do was throw his arms up in a feeble way to protect his face. The blast never hit him in the face, but he could feel some distinct burning in his left arm.

His eyes widened and he looked up.

His left arm.

Blocking the blast in front of him was a glowing green arm made out of ectoplasm. He flexed the fingers and tightened them into fists, feeling his hand move like it had never even been gone.

He smiled the biggest smile he had had in awhile and pushed back against the ectoblast, sending it back at the ghost.

Maybe this half ghost thing was good for something after all.

-----

Danny was disappointed that he couldn’t use his ecto-arm in his human form. He could conjure it if he wanted to, and he did when he was doing his chores when no one else was around, but if anyone saw it it would raise a lot of questions. So it was something he reserved for when he was alone or in ghost form.

He was walking down the hallway at school when he saw Dash. Ever since his accident, the boy had been a little nicer to Danny. Apparently he had some kind of moral code that said that ‘bullying people with disabilities is uncool’. Danny thought maybe Dash had figured out that bullying anyone was uncool. He didn’t know when the last time was that he saw him shove another kid into a locker.

Dash made eye contact with him and waved. Danny nervously waved back. He still didn’t know how to approach Dash now. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to be friends or if he was just being a nice person. Maybe both. That was kind of how you made friends.

“Hey, Fentertainment tonight. How's it hanging?”

“Uh, good.” Danny stopped when he and Dash met in the middle of the hallway. “How are you?”

“I’m great! Not nervous at all.” Dash coughed. “I mean. I wanted to invite you and your friends to a party at Kwan’s house. His parents are going out of town and everyone’s going to be there so I figured why not you guys too?”

Danny’s heart warmed a little. Whatever Dash was getting at, he was trying.

“Dash, I’d-”

Danny was interrupted when the stairwell they were standing next to exploded. Danny covered his face as debris flew by. He could hear Dash coughing beside him and when Danny turned his head to look, he could see the ghost that made the hole in the wall.

It was a gorilla. For a moment Danny prayed that it wasn’t Delilah the purple back gorilla, but upon closer inspection he could see that it was just some random ghost.

It roared at them, it seemed like everything around them was vibrating. When it roared again it sent a wave of ectoplasm heading straight for them. Danny jumped in front of Dash and held his arms up. He could feel his left arm reforming out of ectoplasm and the roar bounced off of it and shot back at the ghost. The ghost growled at him again.

Danny could tell when Dash saw his arm. He heard a sharp intake of air coming from behind him.

“Your arm.” He squeaked. “How… It’s… What the hell?”

Danny shoved Dash out of the way when the ghost jumped at them. They landed against the lockers and Dash was staring down at where Danny’s left arm wrapped around him.

“How did your arm grow back?” He breathed out.

The ghost jumped again and Danny shoved Dash out of the way for a second time. He made eye contact with him.

“You can’t tell anyone about this.”

“What? Even if I don’t say anything people are still gonna notice that you grew a second-”

Dash went silent when a ring appeared around his waist. He watched as it moved across Danny’s body, leaving his ghost form behind. Dash’s eyes were even wider.

“You’re Phantom?” He squeaked out in an even higher pitch.

Danny nodded and turned around, leaving Dash alone with whatever existential crisis he was about to have.

When he faced the ghost it was getting ready to charge again. Danny shot at it a couple times, floating near the hole it made in the wall. He wanted to lead it outside so it was away from all the classrooms.

Once it followed him outside, Danny flew circles around it. It tried following him but he moved too fast. Eventually it got dizzy from trying to watch where he was going and while it tried to get its bearings, Danny shot another blast of ectoplasm at it, sending it to the ground.

He opened the thermos and captured it. He sighed in relief. At least this ghost only wrecked one wall this time. The last ghost he fought demolished a whole building.

Then he heard the crunch of rubble behind him and he turned to see Dash stepping through the hole into the grass. He stared at Danny for a few minutes, taking in his appearance.

“How did this even happen?”

Danny transformed back and let his ectoplasmic arm dissipate into the air.

“We can talk about that later. Can you tell me more about this party?”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #phic phight 2023 #danny fenton #maddie fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dash baxter #fanfiction

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venuscrashed · 8 months

Text

Star Soup

I wanted to try out the oc thing so here…

No pronouns used but intended as gn!reader

Surrounding by stars and the void you looked back at your first encounter with him.

Your family and you were in the hospital. You all surrounded the hospital bed of your mother. She laid there with tears in her eyes as your father quietly yelled at her. He was berating her, calling her names and blaming her if he gets caught.

“You goddamn idiot. If my business gets investigated by the goddamn police I will beat you.” He spit harshly in his thick country accent. “All cause you couldn’t watch what you eat. You fat pig. Telling everyone where my stash is!”

She cried and pleaded with him. Begging for her life, begging to be forgiven. She truly didn’t want her husband to go to jail, let alone beat her. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed through tears. “I mean it! I didn’t know. I’ll check next time.”

“Next time? Next time!” Your father yelled.

“Leave her alone! She didn’t know.” You yelled at him pulling him away from your mother. Only for you to regret it as he turned towards you. “I’m-“ before you could finish you heard a slapping sound. Your face burned, he started to yell but your fight or flight instinct kicked in.

Your feet started to move and soon you were running out of the hospital. Behind you, you could hear the sounds of your father yelling. You ran into the forest, the trees surrounding you.

“Let me get off of this damn planet!” Only you fell deeper into it. You screamed as you fell to the floor. Scraps and blood was on your knees, soaking through your pants. The sound of the forest grew as nature came to life at night. The darkness surrounded you, engulfing you in it as a comfort blanket but only gave you fear. Looking up at the sky as a pale blue light blinded you. “God?”

The light above you began to grow. Within it another source of light was born. Rocks and pebbles began to float as gravity was turned off. Soon pieces of the ufo came into view. It glowed and tony sources of light illuminated its silhouette.

The ufo lowered to the point where it was only hovering above the trees. Your hair started to float and soon you were lifted up off the ground. The sound of the ufo engine cut of your screams. The bright light blinded you as you floated closer.

Animals and people watched as your kidnapping took place. News cameras and phones were videoing it. None daring to help you. Your father stood there with his mouth opened, his business won’t get investigated now. Your siblings and mother watched from the window. Your mothers scream grew louder, unknowing to you.

You fell onto the cold, hard floor. The room was blinding with different colored lights painting it. Footsteps could be heard as they came closer to you.

“Captain! You were successfully,” an eager, young voice yelled.

Murmurs was heard around the room but by the time your eyes adjusted someone was in front of you. A man was crouching in front of you. His electric blue hair covered parts of his hair but from what you can tell he was handsome. His hand reached out to your shoulder and his lips were moving.

He violently shook you, then his voice made way to your head. “Hey!”

“Huh?” You stared at him as he chuckled lowly. His soft smile quickly faded to a stone cold look, one that sent shivers down your spine.

“Are you okay? We didn’t mean to scare you but you looked like you needed us.” He gestured to the rest of the crew as they stood there. One awkwardly wave before they ran down the hall behind them. Two fingers were placed on your chin as the man in front of you checked you over.

“Ma, Kyla,” he firmly said while two woman turned towards him. “Go to the infirmary and get rid of these injuries. Have SiR check for further problems internally.” He turned back towards you and lifted you off of the ground. “I’m Vetex, glad to me you!” His hand sat there in the air as you stared at it, “shouldn’t you shake it?”

“What? Oh yea! Sorry.”

An older woman took you by the arm and lead you down the hall. Looking back, you saw Vetex command the whole ship.

A tall woman popped into your view as she bashfully smiled. “Hi there! I’m Kyla, I’m the nurse in training.”

“Training?” You whispered as you studied the ship.

“Yup. That over there is Ma. She’s like the mom of the group and is the human nurse.” Kyla saw the fear in your eyes as she laughed and grabbed your other arm. “Don’t worry. SiR is the robot nurse. You know? Safety Robot.”

Her tone made it hard to understand if she was nice or not. It was on the brink of teasing and teaching, country accents.

Two doors separated and a room filled with medical technology. A robot that imitated a male with both his looks and demeanor watched as the three of you walked in. The medical instruments started up with a beep and soon you were being scanned. The robotic hand let out a green light while in another computer your health was being transported.

“Healthy,” SiR had said in a robotic voice.

“See SiR is the nurse cause he’s like programmed for that.”

SiR grabbed your arm and stuck five needles in it. You let out a gasp of pain as he turned away.

“But we have the Ma cause she understand pain. Cause you know that happens.” Kyla smiled before pulling you towards a table. “Get on there. Ma will clean those cuts.”

Looking around you saw all three of the nurses, or two and one training, be in their natural environment. “When can I go home?” Your voice was groggy and sounded hoarse due to your crying. You internally yelled at yourself for being so pathetic.

Ma placed down a bowl and a box next to you. She wore a sympathetic smile and started to clean your cuts. “You’re not going home. You’re apart of us now. Apart of our family.” She squeezed your hand in an attempt to comfort and you would be lying if you said it didn’t help.

“But why?” God, you hated how your voiced came out pathetic. It was irritating despite the fact you just got kidnapped.

“You’re one of us! And we stick together,” Kyla yelled as she was practically jumping up and down. “We were all livin a bad life before we came here. Space changed the way we were. And boy I don’t regret it.”

In the background, pans and metal objects could be heard falling. Kyla groaned while running, screaming something about SiR crashing again. Ma had finish up cleaning your cuts and she gave the softest smile you had ever received. She patted your back before getting up to leave.

You swung you feet back and forth as the ship gained speed. Slowly everything began to lift off of the surfaces. Gravity was being slowly lost until it all fell back down again. A window sat high up the wall, showing the stars running by. Earth grew smaller and smaller until it blended in with the rest of the stars.

“Space. Who would have thought?”

“Certainly not me.” The voice of the captain caused you to jump. Your pupils dilated as he moved closer. He watched as you scooted away, how your hands were shaking but your eyes told a different story.

“Vetex? I mean captain!”

“Vertex is fine. Although don’t tell anyone else that you could call me that.” He winked and gave a sly smile.

“Shouldn’t you be driving the ship?”

He hummed, staring at the wall. For a couple of moments nothing had happen until he grabbed your arm. He quickly pulled you into the hallway before the nurses could see.

“Captain? I mean Vetex.”

“My co pilot is driving. He’s got it, went to flight school or something.”

He went down several different hallways. Making lefts and tights while picking up the pace. The ship was a lot bigger than originally thought, but it seems everyone knows where everything is. Truly like a home.

He finally stopped in front of two metal doors. They slide open and reveled a grand kitchen. No one was in it but it was freshly cleaned. I’m t was made of crystal like material. Fresh ingredients sat out in the counter.

Vetex had moved to a door in the wall. He pulled out a magenta box and went straight to the stove.

“What are you doing?” You asked lowly while slowly walking towards him.

“I’m making star soup. My mom would make it for me when I was sad.”

“I’m not sad though.”

He turned his head towards. Looking you up and down before going back to cooking. The pot was heated up and the soup was dumped in. The place smelled comforting, a different childhood then the one you had.

“Go sit down. The soup will be done soon.”

There was an eating area connected to the kitchen. A small table sat in front of a glass wall. Now you could tell that you left your far from earth. It seems that the ship is leaving the galaxy.

A bowl was slammed down in front of you. Vertex smiled as he sat on the other side of the table.

You stared down at the soup. It didn’t look to be poison nor disgusting. It seemed to be regular soup.

He watched as you slowly took a bite. His smile grew bigger as you ate more. Vertex raised his hand and cupped your face. He pushed back a strand of hair before pulling your chin closer to his. He stared into your eyes as you felt his breath on your face.

“I think I’m going to keep you,” he whispered before letting you go.

You say they’re frozen, “What? Keep me?”

“Yup, originally we were going to sell you but I like you. So your mine now.”

“Sell me?” Sell you? Alarms were set off in your head. This was clearly not right.

You bolted out of the room causing your chair to fall down. You ran down the hall trying to run away. There could be smaller ships attached, you thought to yourself. Maybe we weren’t that far from Earth?

Finally you found a door leading to ships. There were rows of smaller ships. Some looked ready for war while others look liked oranges.

Freedom was at your feet before you were pulled back. Vetex somehow caught up to you, he seemed tired. His face held no expression as you thrashed around in his arms.

“Let me go!” You demanded. Trying to bite or scratch him but he wouldn’t budge. He was dragging you to a room that you didn’t want to stick around to see.

“I said you were mine,” he threw you into a room. It had a bed with decorative trophies. “Why should I let you go?” He crouched in front of you. His hand grabbed your chin as he stared at you with a bored expression. He brought a knife out, tracing it along your face. Here and there he would press it harder so that blood was dripping.

You cried, begging to be let go but he didn’t care. He locked your wrist with a metal gadget. It linked up to his own and you could see all your information on it. Your vitals and location were in bright red as he looked back at you.

“You’re never going to leave. I’ll make sure of that.”

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x female y/n #x female reader #x ftm reader #x male y/n #x male reader #oc #my oc #My oc vetex #Vetex #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #venuscrashed

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thinkingaboutlifefornow · 2 months

Text

The brave little ghost

Chapter 5

Bucky x reader

Warnings - violence

(( I couldn’t help but write another part, so two in one day it is. Please do like the post if you are enjoying it. ))

……..

You woke up in what appeared to be a hospital room, blinking trying to adjust to the harsh light. You went to rub your eyes but your hands were stopped by the cuffs attaching you to the hospital bed you were on.

The man whose name you now knew as Tony was sat next to your bed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said softly “don’t freak out we’re not going to hurt you.”

…..

Your mind flashed back to the moments after he was sobbing into your hair.

“Who.. who are you?” Your voice showing a slightly amount of emotion that you couldn’t place.

“It’s me,” he pulled away slightly to look at you, his eyes wandering across your face as he stroked you hair, “it’s dad.” He searched for recognition in your face.

“But I don’t have a dad” you replied, eyes filled with suspicion. You just existed, you had no memory of before your wipe; or those that you did have you didn’t have meaning for. It was like those people in memories that flashed through had blank faces and the words they said didn’t make sense.

The words you said to him almost seemed like you had stabbed him instead.

“I’m going to make you better, I promise” and with that he pulled you back in tight.

“Cap, go bring the jet round” he said, voice wavering again. With that the tall blonde man was off, moments later what you could only describe as a mini plane came to land where the helicopter once stood. The helicopter that took the only person who could understand what you had been through.

The women with red hair came over and gently places a hand on mans shoulder “All ready to go Tony?”

You guessed Tony was the strange man who was hugging you. He pulled back and wrapped his arm round your side instead, nodded then walked you both forward and up the ramp of the plane. You complied, this might be your ticket to find Winter.

The inside had two pilot seats at the front and the back was like a high tech open area with seats on either side. The red head and Cap, as Tony referred to him sat in the two pilot seats. Yourself, Tony and the bowman were strapped into the seats at the back.

Tony still had his arm around you, it all seemed so strange. Why would a man you’ve never met be crying and holding onto you.

Once in the air everyone had unbuckled, and it seemed like the adrenaline had calmed down for them. This was your moment to strike, you could hijack the plane and find Winter somehow.

Without hesitation you turn and punched Tony straight in the jaw, his head flys back, a broken nose for sure as the blood now poured out.

You swipe the legs from under the bowman as he stands up limping to restrain you. You’re up out of your seat ready to take on Cap and the red head. She’s too quick though, she’s up out of her seat facing you. You see her throw something at you and the next thing you know a shock runs through your body, you know this pain. You’re about to be wiped.

…….

“I,” you stammer, memories from the plane coming back. You hadn’t been wiped. “You.. you didn’t wipe me”.

Tony looked at you confused. “Wipe you?”

You look at him, you felt emotions. You were confused by them, you wanted to hug him and you didn’t know why.

“There was an electric shock and then I was here, but I can still remember the before” your eyes shifted from each of his eyes back and forth.

He quickly put the puzzle pieces together. “They were shocking you there?” His fists curled, you could see the anger building and you couldn’t move anywhere to escape it. You tried to move as far away from him on the bed while still attached.

His features softened, his fists uncurled. “Oh baby girl I’m sorry, I’m not angry at you. Please don’t be scared.” He leaned forward in his chair, and sighed. He looked tired, like he needed to sleep for a life time. The worry was almost etched permanently into his skin.

“Where am I?” Your voice so meek and quiet.

“Home” he replied softly, taking the hand closest to him into his. Tears brimming from his eyes.

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x hydra!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x stark!reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Tony stark #stark!reader #the brave little ghost #the brave little ghost chapter 5

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thissharktypes · 9 months

Text

Into the Border-verse: 2

2 - Electric personality

Oh god. Your head is swimming, trying desperately to peel your eyes open. Please shut up. Though the chatter around you was muffled, like you were underwater, it was still too loud. Your stomach churns violently, that’s enough to have your eyes flying open and flinging yourself over the edge of the bed to unleash all the contents of your stomach onto the floor. You cough, throat burning, tears pooling in your eyes as you continue to dry heave, nothing left to bring up. A gentle hand pulls you backwards and you slump against the pillows. A kind looking doctor dabs the tears from your cheeks and begins adjusting the blankets over you “Damn kid, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone spew that much, and I once saw a psycho being swung around in circles by his feet, puking the whole way ‘round.” The doctor snorts a little before nudging a cup towards you “Better swish your mouth kid.” you grab the cup, hands shaking slightly, you swish before quickly gulping down the water, very aware of how dry your mouth is “Am I…” you look around “in my world?” you couldn’t think of a way to phrase that without sounding insane, just in case you did just have a weird ass dream. He shakes his head “Sorry, can’t say you are, Lilith filled me in on what happened. They all want you in the meeting room once you’re feeling better, I think they’re hopin’ you can give them some help with their plans.” you shake your head “No,” your voice cracks and you wince “I can’t, I don’t support what they do in the games, I don’t support anything anyone does,” you pause “So much violence for what they believe is right, so many innocent lives…” even though for you it was just a video game, you still felt your heart tug whenever you had to watch a scene play out in a way you didn't like. The doctor raises a bushy eyebrow “I’d keep that to yourself kid, wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea.” his eyes darted to the door “But they won’t let you leave, with the information you have…” he trails off but you understand “Comply or die, right?” he snorts again “You got that right.” the doctor slips a hand under your arm as you struggle to sit up “Let’s get this over with.” He gives a quick nod and you both make your way painfully slow towards the meeting room.

You pause halfway there, unsure of why you’re so out of breath, huffing, you lean forward, trying to suck in more air “I have a theory,” you motion for the doctor to keep talk while you start to recover “if you’re from a different universe, then more than likely your air is different from ours, might take a bit to adapt.” you pull yourself upright “It feels like I’m breathing in pudding.” you groan out “Poo-ding?” it's your turn to snort “No, PUH-ding, like, chocolate or vanilla goop, there’s other flavors too but most of them are gross.” the doctor just looks even more confused “It's like… a dessert?” his eyes light up “Sweets! I love that stuff, think you could make it for me?” you two begin walking again and you shrug “Maybe, I was a cook in my world, might be able to whip up something similar.” he grins “A cook! How exciting, who do you cook for?” you smile “I worked in a hospital, we had a huge team, sometimes I’d help prep, maybe help in the back with the dishwashers,” your smile drops “I was supposed to be heading to work when I came here.” your chest hurts “What if I never see my coworkers again…” the thought brings tears to your eyes again “You like your team?” you nod “I loved them, they were like family honestly, they took care of me, reminded me to eat, take breaks, drink water.” you and the doctor near the large room where you can see a few figures around a table “What about your actual family?” he asks softly, you grind your teeth and blink away the tears “Fuckin losers, the lot of ‘em,” you pause “Except my grandparents.” your voice softens at the thought of them “They passed away a few years ago though.” the doctor pats your arm “I’m sorry kid, I don’t know why you were sucked into our world but I sure do like you so far.” he smiles as he leads you to a chair across from Tannis “Well, here’s the kid, be nice to ‘em.” he locks eyes with Lilith and she glowers back.

It takes a solid hour of screaming back and forth between you and Lilith for someone to finally intervene “Shut up you absolute children!” Tannis screeches over you and the red head, you both fall silent “Lilith, this isn’t working. Nothing is being solved and they obviously don’t want to help us.” Tannis sticks up her nose “Some people just don’t want to save lives I supposed.” you snarl, standing up and slamming your hands down on the table, rattling the coffee cups next to you “I am saving lives, Lives you all took! For your own selfish fucking reasons!” you snap, Tannis and Lilith both boiling with rage while Roland and Brick both looked on with disapproval.

“Then you give us no choice.” Lilith's voice is harsh.

Before you can blink your arms are pinned behind you and you’re being dragged, kicking and screaming, down a hallway. Your head slams against the wall as Lilith tosses you inside a cell, a thick door sliding shut after you “If you won’t give us the information willingly then we’ll take it by force.” She stares at you through the slit in the door “And you wonder why I won’t help you Crimson Scumbags!” you shout as she turns to leave.

You aren’t sure how long you’re in the cell, whenever you’re dragged out you can never see a window. The only other place you’ve been to was a grimey and dark room, tied to the chair and beaten black and blue. When whoever tortured you couldn’t get information, your limp body would be hauled back to the cell.

Your stomach ached, mouth dry, ribs on fire, skin crusted in blood. You never liked Liliths character and this whole situation was proving you right. Lost in your thoughts of the not so fictional game you almost didn’t feel the room around you begin to shake. You drag yourself upright, pain spiking but confusion and curiosity winning out. Screaming echos from somewhere in the building, gunshots echoing soon after. Crawling to the door you bang against it, not entirely sure if you were hoping to be saved or just put out of your misery by the intruders. Your fists thump weakly against the thick door before you slide back down to the ground, your entire stomach and chest burning from exerting yourself.

A door slams open, followed by several sets of footsteps. You hit the ground hard as the door you were leaning against slides open. You groan and whimper, more pain ricocheting down your spine as you blink up at a grinning face “Hey there babydoll, it’s your knight in shining mask! Handsome Jack!” He motions for the guards behind him to haul you up and you gasp in pain “Fucking shit!” you yelp “Hey now, language! A pretty mouth like yours shouldn’t be used for something so dirty.” he winks at you “Is this yours kiddo? Found it on a table back there.” he hold up your backpack and you weakly nod “Great! Lets get going!” Jack starts walking with an exaggerated marching movement “We got real lucky that the Crimson Asshats aren’t here,” he shoots a wink back at you “I wouldn’t really call it luck, just having spies on the inside.” he wiggles his fingers in your face.

The two guards holding you up follow behind a chattering Jack, their quick pace leading you all back to a large ship parked haphazardly in front of the building you were being held in. Bright yellow stripes decorate the sides, marking it as Hyperion property, blindingly obvious. As soon as the guards drop you onto a chair Jack is twirling around and slamming a red syringe into your thigh. A sharp burning pain from where the needle hits, followed by sweet sweet relief. You let out a loud sigh, finally feeling better after God knows how long, your body relaxing into the plush seat under you “Thank you.” you say up at Jack who stood over you as your body mended.

He looks slightly taken aback before regaining composure “Of course dollface, I can’t have my secret weapon dying on me.” you groan “Don’t tell me,” He cuts you off “Yup! I know all about your alternate universe and you knowing allllllllll about whats gonna happen here.” He grins, plopping down in a chair as the ship lifts off. “You gonna beat the shit outta me too then?” you lean your head back against the cushy headrest and close your eyes “Not if you listen like a good little pet.” his voice is soft, but firm, an edge to it. You just nod “I know, I know, Blood, guts and glory, ‘I’ll shoot anyone that disrespects me, The Handsomest Jack’.” you lower your voice at the end, putting on an overly annoying male voice. To your surprise Jack bursts out laughing, you open one eye, watching as he bends over grabbing his knee and chest while his entire body shakes in laughter. A grin tugs at your lips “Glad to know you agree that I’m the best looking Jack.” he says after he trails off into giggles “You certainly like your ego stroked pretty boy.” you say through a smile and he wiggles his eyebrows at you “That’s not the only thing I like stroked sweetcheeks.” he raises his hand in a fist and makes a lewd motion, causing you to be the one to hunch over laughing.

Losing your shit over the Handsome Jack miming a handy-j was not what you expected when you picked up your controller that day. After a few moments of silence, with your eyes closed and head snuggly pressed into the cushion behind you, Jack clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him “So, my source tells me you never told any of the Crimson Raiders anything, you just took the beatings and stayed quiet.” you nod and scratch your head, unsure of where this conversation was going “Why?” he asks “Why what?” you reply, tilting your head “Why didn’t you tell them something.” you shrug and pick at your nails, dirt and blood flaking away “Lots of reasons, I didn’t like Lilith when I played the games, I didn’t like what the Crimson Raiders did, how many people they killed in the name of their mission,” Jack watches you “Yeah sure you killed a shit ton of people, I don’t think there’s a single character that didn’t kill someone, but still,” you frown “I think that you do what you do because you want to be a hero, you want to save people, while Lilith does what she does because she thinks shes better than other people. Her character is pretty well liked, but something about her just rubbed me the wrong way.” your eyes light up after a short moment “But Maya! Oh dear god, now that is a gorgeous siren.” you grin “She’s so pretty, I swear I’d be a total fankid for her.” Jack chuckles “Didn’t know you swung that way baby.” you snort and shake your head “You’ve got that wrong, I swing all the ways, If they’ve got a pulse and can consent I’ll probably find them attractive.” Jack surprises you by slapping your back “Hell yeah! That’s more like it!”.

You two chit chat on and off for the next hour, your conversation dying off as the ship nears the Hyperion base. You shoot upright, almost skidding across the ship as you dash to the window, face pressed against the glass as you stare in awe at the massive building “Pretty impressive huh?” You whip around to face Jack, completely starry eyed “It’s so cool, Can I explore? I won’t go far I promise, I didn’t get to see much in the game, please please please?” You clasp your hands together as you plead “Oh, I like the sound of you begging hot stuff.” his hand cups your chin, tilting your head back to gaze down at you. Your cheeks turn embarrassingly red, the slight fascination you had towards the character transferring to the man in front of you “I suppose I could give you a tour if you give me something in return.” You nod, slightly dazed by your proximity to Jack. He slings his arm around your shoulders and leads you off the now parked ship “First of all, what’s Liliths next move?” you hum quietly, trying to remember the plot of your game “You’re not gonna like it, so I’ll keep it short. From what I remember Lilith and her little crew use your daughter, they end up killing her, you end up killing Roland and taking Lilith to be a battery for your vault key, some other shit happens and then they kill you.” You glance up at the man next to you “That’s the just of it.” his grip tightens “Kill me? They can’t kill me, I’m the goddamn hero!” you shrug “That’s how the game goes. Not that I liked it but I can’t change the plot.” he shakes his head “Maybe not in your world, but here? I’m in charge. I make the rules.” you always held a soft spot for Handsome Jack for some strange reason, before you can process what you’re about to say, the words just tumble out “The game wasn’t fair, everything was in the Crimson Raiders favor and you didn’t actually have a shot of winning, I don’t agree with most of the shit you did in the game but I do think your character, you, deserved better.” Jack's grip loosens, the two of you walking in silence.

He slows his pace “I'll have you set up with a room near mine, I’ll also have some clean clothes and whatever else you need sent there. I’ll give you a tour tomorrow when you’ve rested.” He looks so drained all of the sudden, like the entire weight of the world was dropped on his back. “Thank you, I’ll answer any questions you have if I can, if it helps in any way I’ll do it.” he nods, no smartass retort. Jack silently taps on his echo device “Someone will escort you to your room, your bag is already there for you.” he pauses before placing his hand on your shoulder “Don’t make me regret this kindness honeybunches.” While the tone is teasing, he still has that usual edge of threat underneath.

You watch the sunset through the window across from your bed. You had spent quite a while just fluttering around the large room, opening random cabinets, poking at furniture and finally unpacking your backpack to see what all you had left inside. The contents dumped carelessly around you, forgotten as you watched the sky darken and fill with stars. Unable to fully process the beauty you drag your comforter to the floor and you wrap it around you as you settle down closer to the window. Your neck hurt from having your head tilted back to stare up at the sky, you felt so lost, not a single constellation standing out from your universe, but somewhere deep inside you also felt so at home, the light pollution from your city never gave way for this many stars. Swaddled in a ridiculously warm blanket and luxury soft pajamas, provided for you by Jack of course, you slowly start to doze off, still curled up on the floor by the window.

#handsome jackpot #borderlands handsome jack #handsome jack #timothy lawrence x reader #borderlands x reader #borderlands #handsome jack x reader #borderlands 2 #borderlands 3

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danmeiljie · 10 months

Text

How Its Should Have Happened: A Series of Advance Bravely Fix Its

Episode 26

Yuan Zong watched Xia Yao with fond, relieved eyes as the younger man slowly chewed purple grapes, careful not to upset his healing face. The whole left side was covered in angry red scabs that were desperately trying to grow new skin. The effect left his cheek and temple pulled slightly taut whenever he moved, but Xia Yao pretended it didn't hurt. When Xia Yao's bright eyes caught his gaze, Yuan Zong smiled back warmly.

"What do you think?" Xia Yao asked, raising his eyebrows and turning his face towards Yuan Zong so he could see the wounds. "Is my face back to normal?"

Yuan Zong controlled his features to give a neutral expression, "...Almost." He refused to let the younger man look in a mirror again for at least a week.

"What does 'almost' mean?" Xia Yao looked like he was one second away from a pout.

"It means you're definitely healing, but not quite completely back to normal yet," Yuan Zong patiently explained.

"I bet you can barely tell anything happened, right?" Xia Yao looked much younger sitting in his hospital clothes perched up against many pillows in the hospital bed, with such a hopeful look on his pretty face.

"Babe, don't worry. It will keep healing." Yuan Zong reached and squeezed Xia Yao's hand to emphasize his point. Xia Yao squirmed in the bed, torn between enjoying being called 'babe' by such a handsome man, and frustrated that his face still carried the marks of the brutal assault.

Yuan Zong took pity on the boy and acquiesced, "You look much better than you did a few days ago."

"Really?" Xia Yao's fallen expression brightened again and he laughed, falling back against the pillows. Yuan Zong sighed in his heart. He knew he would deny this man nothing.

"Hey, Da-ge," Xia Yao asked sweetly, drawing out the word in a coquettish tone. "Can you raise my feet a little higher?"

Yuan Zong smirked at the brazen flirting but stood and bent over to adjust the settings at the foot of the electric hospital bed. Just after he turned away, he felt a slender hand slap his butt. This boy! He turned and gave an exaggerated scowl.

"What are you doing?"

Xia Yao laughed, "I just felt like smacking such a perfect butt!"

Yuan Zong's expression turned dangerous and he fixed Xia Yao with a meaningful stare and he slowly turned around and loomed over the reclined patient. Putting both hands on either side of the bed, he leaned his face close to Xia Yao's right ear.

"You may be recovering now, but don't think you can escape punishment for being naughty when we get home," he whispered in a low voice.

Xia Yao shivered with anticipation and the caress of Yuan Zong's warm breath on his skin. He pushed a hand against Yuan Zong's chest so he couldn't get closer.

"It wasn't that naug–"

His reply was cut off by a persistent tongue pushing into his mouth and lips sucking him inside. Yuan Zong kissed Xia Yao deeply, and perhaps more firmly than he should have, like he was reclaiming what was his. Xia Yao enjoyed the passionate kiss but successfully pushed Yuan Zong away and sunk back into the pillows, looking up at Yuan Zong through his eyelashes, his lips red from the abuse.

"Someone could walk in!" He protested in a hushed tone.

Yuan Zong arched an eyebrow as if to say, 'That's exactly my point.'

Yuan Zong straightened up and tucked the blankets around Xia Yao and repositioned the bowl of grapes to the center of his lap, having been disturbed by the sudden kiss.

"Behave." He ordered with a private smile and Xia Yao nodded, popping a new grape between those delicious lips. Yuan Zong swallowed and had to tell himself it was worth the wait. Soon, when Xia Yao's face and broken leg was healed, they would engage in more vigorous bedroom activities again.

Yuan Zong was about to sit back down at the bedside when both men turned towards the opening room door, only to find Mama Xia with a frantic expression on her beautifully painted face.

"Oh my God, my Son!"

#no pee sheets #just shameless flirting #hospital!yuanxia #my bad gifs #gong jun #xu feng #advance bravely #my writing #advance bravely... fanfic?!#advance bravely fix its

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soranihimawari · 2 years

Text

Start my Heart

pairing: okkatsu yuuta x reader

word count: tbd

rating: OYA->OYF (okkatsu yuuta angst -> fluff)

warnings: violence out of plot may be mentioned

there are many things okkatsu yuuta is grateful for. first, he finds rika as a child, making great promises of matrimony as their time playing together grows along with their childhood. that love forged a bond unlike any other later in the young man’s life after witnessing the aftermath of his beloved’s passing. second, he is grateful for being pulled out of his depressive state by a peculiar teacher who instructs him to weaponize said loneliness. third, to his friends and peers as fellow sorcerers, he is grateful they are alive with minor injuries post a great battle when he was sixteen.

currently, he is a bit older. an experienced curse exorcist, given missions from the higher ups world wide only to be asked to come back home for an entirely new one. prodigal son, one woman called him. he sits in a cafe close to school grounds, observing the people passing by. he spots the florist watering the plants outside the sill of the shop. the blossoms waved to him in the wind, drawing his attention to the worker. he never hears your name, it’s like you’re being less synonymous with the wind.

seasons change and you’re with yuuta now. he’s a friend, you reassure your grand aunt who sponsors your living here in the city alone. the old maid doesn’t need to know how your room plays both lovers canopy and hospital bed to him. sheets are washed after you use them to cover each other the first time you’re comfortable being any sort of intimate with him. he adjusts the speed of this time with you, often being gentle with you the second time he asks if you’re still ok with just this—the physical act of loving versus being completely devoted is what you agreed upon. though time is a construct, you know he can’t say three words to you just yet. so, like a good lover, you wait. you have a will made of Iron to prove to him you’re all he needs. you redress wounds with precision, kissing bandages over stitches unaware how with each one his heart beat picks up.

selfishly, one night, you come home to him in front of your door. his bandaged torso doesn’t stop him from following you inside with the promise of dinner being made by you tonight. however, when you’re suddenly pushed against the wall with your arms pinned above you, your warm, sunny, mouth presses against his cool ones. it is electric when he breaks away from you, saying he’s sorry for not reciprocating your advances sooner. your hands grip his sleeves and pull him back into you, sliding yourself between his limbs has you both tumbling backwards in a sea of tumultuous affair.

the hallway is dinged several times as the clothes separating you two seem to disappear. in nothing but pants, undershirt, and bralette, the door to your room is closed. this time, he was savoring every moment, every whine of his name burned his mind’s ear after making you his. when he holds you in front of him afterwards, his nose bumps against your shoulder before kissing the blades there. you’re still nude, but you’re both spent from keeping each other entertained. the bath seems so far away, yet he insists on pampering you properly. showered and clothed loosely once again, he watches you climb into bed, curling into him until he picks you up to have you sit on his lap again. is this happiness what was missing? coming back from nearly dying on missions to be loved by you? okkatsu yuuta falls asleep with you in his arms with the epiphany of a love well-earned on the precipice of angering a powerful curse.

it’s not until the new year when you’re asleep in his ivory collared shirt, love bites littering your neck and thighs does okkatsu yuuta see a harrowing sight. rika’s curse form hovers over you, curious as to why her beloved chooses you.

“can rika kill this one?”

“wha-? no.”

“rika wants to kill this one who takes yuuta away.”

until he can sort this out, yuuta no longer stops by your place. a week goes by and the cafe owner doesn’t see the regular young man with bright sad eyes anymore. you wake up and go to bed alone every night wondering if it was something you had said. you thought you were helping him move past what made his heart ache. perhaps you were wrong and he wasn’t just ready to fully devote his time and attention to you. or perhaps his job makes it hard on the lives of loved ones…? the second one is what you tell yourself everyday for a time, a lie you believe to this day.

years pass, and suddenly you’re twenty four years old. you don’t date anyone for a long time, and even if you did, they left you unsatisfied; you carry on working at a nursery now for rare plants. sometimes you think about the boy with those expressive lonely eyes wondering if he’s ok. if he still enjoyed good coffee black with a large slice of angel food cake. you moved apartments to be closer to a shrine. the monks and traveling priestesses teach you to hone your tracking skills. you learn hedge-sorcery concocting deadly poisons to sell to fellow sorcerers who come knocking at your door. some of those vials do heal. others, you use to vanquish the angry ones.

the tanabata festival is this week. okkatsu yuuta is older now. more broad in terms of his physical looks. the sword he wore on his back is going just fine, like the chain now remaining ringless. he stops by the city center where the flower shop used to be. the barista who waited on him takes their break early making lavender cappuccinos for them.

“she’s not here,” the old coffee connoisseur mentions.

“i noticed,” yuuta responds, sipping his beverage. the frown is heard in his reply.

“you broke her heart when you didn’t return, yuuta-san.”

the younger of the two freezes. the grip on the handle is firm when yuuta’s brain thinks of all the possibilities that could have occurred while he was away.

“love, unrequited is just as lethal as first loves.”

the barista explains how you spent everyday watering plants outside giving yourself false hope of seeing his companion at the table across from him again; your grand aunt passes on and from what the old ladies in the neighborhood were saying, that woman was the last known living relative you had, so you navigated losing two loved ones in a span of a year. you were seen selling your house first, then the shop, afterwards you too disappeared.

“how long ago was this?”

people don’t just vanish, yuuta’s poker face does little to hide from the eyes of someone who has watched many love stories blossom. the old patron of the coffee haus curls a finger to the side of his lips while maintaining a ‘thinker’s’ pose.

“three? four years ago?… you mentioned you were nineteen almost twenty when you met, yuuta-kun.”

the cup was empty when okkatsu yuuta runs out of the cafe. truthfully, it wasn’t your fault you tried to love him—he made you believe he loved you too. he was foolish trying to make you love him less. on his phone, he texts his relative asking to put a bolo out for your person. when and why, yuuta simply states he loves you and he doesn’t want to have another ‘rika-chan’-like result.

“understood.”

the call ends and the night comes alive in this side of the city—the tanabata festivities begin. yuuta runs through the neighborhoods scouring to find any one literally who could say they’ve seen you. or know where you are. his phone vibrates hours later at the train station with an image attached to it: your silhouette in the bottom right of obscured by something else. a hand maybe? his phone vibrates again, this time the sender gives him the name of the beach station close to where you were.

tanabata festivals are fun for you. you make kids laugh with the shadow puppets. some are dressed casually others are in their first yukata. behind the small puppet theater, you’re selling hair clips between shows. a familiar set of sneakers and jeans come into your view. the person those belong to is breathing hard, like running a marathon to get to you. you’re almost too afraid to look up, but you do anyway.

“how much is your time worth?” he asks. the voice is older, familiar to you. you fold your hands neatly on the table while the other customers pass by your table clearly seeing the ash of a put out fire finally be put to good use between the two of you.

“how much do you think it’s worth sir?” you are cheeky in terms of your answer.

“one thousand cranes carrying my incompetent soul to you.”

it’s barely a whisper, but you sternly glance up. before you stands a grown version of the boy you remember; the same one who learned to let his past go before leaving you to quarrel with his demons. there are scars you don’t physically see on his body, the emotional ones run deeper than you initially knew. his lips shake with righteous anxiety begging for forgiveness from his boyish grievance—running away from a lovely person who had lent a hand to stay alive. you look to the side, his hands are relaxed, pressing into his thigh, fingers rigid and ready to bow respectfully to you if you no longer want him. his hair is a bit shorter, yet the same shade of navy you like most. his eyes are hardened like squid ink in the sea at night, but your reflection in them makes you rise out of your chair when a hand is extended to you.

“only one thousand?” you chortle bitterly at the quantity. “i don’t wish for cranes, okkatsu. i only need to know if you still care.”

wincing when he hears you call him by his family name makes him bow with a suppressed whimper. surely he’s found you, but the fact you question where his loyalty lies for you, breaks his heart. first, it was beating again for someone other than rika or mai-chan. second, you unrequitedly loved him long before he was ready to reciprocate those emotions to you. now he had his priorities straightened, he’d be damned if he let you slip away from him again.

you allow him to escort you back to a hotel he currently checked in, and when you sit in the vanity facing him, you feel inclined to explain your side of things. you tell him about learning how curses are real though you can’t see them clearly unlike the times you were a child; you speak of your time in the monastery and nursery creating healing salves sold to a few sorcerers like shoko’s team of doctors and one to toge, an old classmate, in his travels to this suburb.

“you had a curse hovering over you,” yuuta blurts out. the sudden revelation makes you frown deeper—he left to protect you because somewhere down the tumultuous love affair you find yourself in, he learned to protect those with his talents. “i was afraid it’d hurt you, i just learned how to control it a year or two before we met.”

“okkatsu, methinks you did the right thing by leaving, but you could have left a note, something. anything, so i wouldn’t have waited for you to come home.”

okkatsu yuuta hasn’t cried in a long time, yet seeing your tired and flat expression made his waterline misty. he wants to reach over and kneel to prove himself and to you he is worthy of your forgiveness; he can feel your anger dissipate when he holds your trembling hands. you pull away when he leans in saying you can’t restart a shattered heart so easily

“but you can piece mine together,” your hand tilts his face down to glance at you. “start in the morning, it’s late.”

he kisses your forehead whispering graceful words of gratitude because he’d be damned if he abandoned you. you tell him he missed, and as you stand, you press your lips lightly against his. no amount of magic or curse techniques would prepare either of you for the whiskey-like warmth spreading across your chests. he says your name against your lips; it is needy and growl like.

“let me love you properly from the start,” he insists on picking you up only to continue pressing his lips against the skin he treasures the most. he is above you, untying the bow opening up your top exposing your assets. his lips curve upward into a sneaky teenage smile, but when his hands find a scar in the small of your back, he leans back, startled.

“when?” he murmurs against your collarbone.

“seven months after you left,” your breath fans against his ear. “some drunk pinned me against a wall.”

“i’m sorry daring girl.”

“he whispered his name to me and he pushed me down… and i froze when he sliced into me.”

yuuta falls back, cupping your face and drying your tears with his thumbs. he wasn’t there for you though his anger on the situation wanes when you create distance from him, using an arm to push him away. he is a bit stunned, shaking his head, reaching out to you again, your tear streaked face is one he could not rid his mind of; your hauntingly beautiful and when his hand tilts your face up, the other holds your hair gently encouraging you to lean on him this time.

“i’m not him,” his voice carries a strong promise to doing right by you starting now. “i won’t do anything you’re not ready for.”

you cry harder and he holds you, comforting words and soothing circles on your exposed shoulder makes your sobs dissipate shortly thereafter. pulling the fabric of your clothes over your shoulder, he has you sit on his lap, almost like a princess. you candidly speak about how records of the man who assaulted you ceased to exist when you try to file authoritative charges. so the file remains cold.

“you fought as best you could,” you hear him say. a sniffle slips out when you nod, taking a peak at your hands folded on your knees. “you are courageous, more so than i was at the time.”

“mhm,” you become drowsy from the heat radiating off of each other.

yuuta adjusts how he holds you, pulling you closer to him silently admiring how peaceful you look when you finally knock out. it’s infectious, the love and understanding is there; hell even the truth is beautiful when you sigh his name against his chest, slightly afraid he’d leave—“people always leave me.”

does the comment break his ego a little bit? of course, yet he whispers back, “not this one.”

elsewhere, an hour or so later, a phone rings as a certain sorcerer stirs from his sleep.

“and are you sure you’d never let them go (again) cousin?”

the answer comes in a photo of you sleeping soundly with a protective arm over yours ready to defend what is most important. there is another photo though, it’s the last one you send him when you turn nineteen: you’re by the sea at night and your back is toward the camera, the caramel color of your hair flies behind you. you claim it’s your favorite photo because a stranger (at the time) with lonely eyes and kind smile takes it.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #🎋jjk.shorts🎋#okkotsu yuta x reader #resolved angst -> fluff

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applepi00 · 1 year

Text

When the Sun Goes Black

By Mxxnlit

Word Count: 9, 597

Rated: T

Category: Gen

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Character: Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Mentioned Ensemble Cast

Relationships: Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya

Tags: sight loss, Vision loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Dazai-Typical Suicide Attempts (Bungou Stray Dogs), Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Hospitals, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I mean it’s mostly canon compliant behind the y’know vision loss, Dazai Osamu-centric (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai’s Dissociative Super Power, Disabled Character, Dazai Osamu is Bad at Feelings (Bungou Stray Dogs), Tbh I think it’s gen but some of y’all take knowing as romantic so either or I guess

Summary: “Lie down, Dazai” comes Chuuya’s voice out of the darkness, rough in its softness, “’M not going to hit you.”

Dazai leans in, a whisper of his own, “I know you won’t, not tonight.” He makes no move other than to adjust his grip, to feel the electric heartbeat beneath his fingers pulsing out a mantra of alive alive alive.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #emi writes #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #soukoku #hey look I finished the vision loss thing #it took like two weeks but it’s the longest single chapter thing I’ve ever written!#skk #bsd fic #skk fic #my fic writing #ao3 #ao3 fic

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adorablelabratclub · 2 years

Text

Cherik police AU

Where Erik has been convicted for a crime he didn't commit and Charles is the smart-mouthed detective assigned his case.

~1639 words~

Erik was escorted into the investigating room in handcuffs. Metal handcuffs.

He would have already walked out by now if he wasn’t the slightest bit curious as to why he’d been brought here in the first place. He unravelled himself in an uncomfortable plastic chair opposite the viewing window and freed his tie from around his neck, bundling it around his knuckles until they turned white. He kept his expression blank.

A moment later, the door screeched against its hinges as a man in a fairy tale blue vest and white long-sleeved shirt, a bulky folder tucked under his arm, entered the room. The searing lights of the investigation room dyed his hair a honey brown and made his remarkably blue eyes glow like they were charged with electricity. As he extended a hand across the table, introducing himself as, “Detective Investigator Charles Xavier. But I prefer just Charles if it suits you,” the corners of his perfectly curved lips rose for him.

When Erik didn’t take it, the detective twizzled his chair around and dropped down into it as he spread out the contents of the folder across the table. He plucked a pair of glasses from his pocket and propped them on the end of his nose to read over the files.

“Well let’s see. Full name: Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, born, or at least it says here, born January 30th, 1930 in Dusseldorf, Germany.” He tilted his head upright to raise his eyebrows at Erik, who didn’t change his expression.

“Says here you’ve been living here in London however for almost ten years. Seems you’ve got into your fair share of scrapes along the way too. I have to say…” He paused to adjust his reading glasses. “I’m pretty impressed you’ve managed to stay out of the coop for so long given your criminal record.”

Erik continued to glare- he didn’t need his admiration. He’d seen enough smart-mouthed cops to last him a lifetime. A voice at the back of his mind told him to hold his tongue, but he ignored it.

“Why am I here?”

“You’re here for interrogation,” Charles said without missing a beat, still not looking at him.

“And what offence am I being convicted for?” His knuckles had turned a bone white.

Charles dropped the files and spread his elbows across the table. “How about I start asking the questions: first off, where were you at around 7:30pm last night?”

“Home,” Erik answered instinctively. “I was watching Strictly,” he added just to be safe, knowing it started at 7:20.

“Nowhere else?”

“I stay in most Saturdays,” Erik shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well, that’s interesting. How about I rephrase that question?” Charles summoned a small remote from his pocket and flicked it at the projector, which whirred to life. Erik squinted.

The video took place in the dark and appeared to simply be a lone shot of a shop window. Charles pressed a button and the video sped forwards, then he brought it back to regular speed as the window to the shop was blown to bits. An indistinguishable man was hurled outside onto the tarmac and he tried to crawl away as a tall figure stepped over the shattered glass. The figures’ eyes flickered up for a moment, where Charles paused the video.

“Shall we try again?” Charles asked.

“That video must have been doctored. Did you see how fast that man was flown through the air? It would be impossible.”

“I wouldn’t say impossible, just slightly less ordinary.” As he said this, his eyes seemed to glint under the harsh light. It made Erik feel instantly defensive.

“I don’t know what you’re accusing me of—”

“Humour me. What intention would you have of throwing a man through a window?”

What intention indeed. Erik tried to convey this with a bewildered expression.

“Let me help you,” Charles offered, “The man you see on this video is currently in a hospital bed just 10 minutes from here, badly injured, but nothing life-threatening. The most he’ll have are a few scars. The shop he runs specialises in old fashioned antiques- do you know it?”

“I might have passed it on the street before…”

“Was he a bad man, Mr Lehnsherr?” Charles interrupted. His eyes were almost too bright to look at. And now they were jabbing into him like they expected something from him.

“I wouldn’t know. Listen, I told you I didn’t know the fellow.”

“So, you didn’t purchase a…” He pulled out a pair of spectacles and placed them on the end of his nose as he lifted the page to his face. “Vintage brass candlestick, several hours before the attack?”

Erik’s heart sank. As long as he didn’t know… “And coincidently, the scars I mentioned earlier found on Mr Gibson’s back seemed to match the prongs of a certain candlestick discovered at the scene. Would you say that’s unusual?” He smiled, but it was different to his greeting smile from earlier, now it seemed thinner. “Your response, Mr Lehnsherr?”

Erik’s eyes flitted feverishly between the observation window and Charles’ smug face. A small droplet of sweat began to bead at the tip of his forehead. “I could cut your throat right now. I wouldn’t even need the handcuffs,” he bit.

Charles rotated his chair and fell back in it, crossing his legs up on the table. “I have no doubt you could. Sure, if it were anyone else sat in a meeting with you right now, they’d be toast.”

Erik laughed harshly to disguise the fact that he couldn’t breathe properly. “And not you?”

Not me. The detective hadn’t even opened his mouth and Erik’s ears hadn’t registered the sound, but the words still snaked their way inside Erik’s mind. No. There was no way. Charles chuckled at Erik’s stunned expression. You didn’t think you were the only one, did you?

Erik’s heart jumped inside his chest, and he quickly rose from his seat, fists readying by his sides. His eyes were teeming with fear. His breaths came quick and hot. Charles didn’t batter an eyelid when the handcuffs clattered on the floor.

“How are you doing that?” he barked, backing into the far wall. “Putting words inside my head?” There was a hint of hysteria disguised in his voice.

With a flick of his wrist, Charles’ rose his peace fingers and drummed them on his right temple. “That’s only a teaser of what I can do, but I’m more interested in you. Come on, sit down. I don’t bite.”

After a moment of consideration, Erik bared his teeth as he slowly slipped back into his chair, eyeing him down with a steeled glower. He kept his hands where they were. “Where the hell did they drag you from?” Erik finally asked.

“No force was necessary: I actually came here of my own free will. I’ve always been fascinated with the mechanics of the law system.” He shrugged. “I get good results- no one needs to know--”

But before he could finish, Erik lurched out of his seat and suddenly the metal handcuffs were flying through the air, right for Charles’ neck. However, Erik’s power over the handcuffs bristled, and they stopped motionless inches from their intended target, with Erik frozen too. He tried to push and bared his teeth, but his body had decided not to obey.

“You’re pathetic,” Erik snapped, jaw clenched. His lips quivered from the effort. “And you’re a coward for taking their side. Are you afraid of what they’ll do to you when they find out? Do you know what they do to people like us? Do you know what Mr Gibson liked to do to his twelve-year-old daughter because of what she is? Well?” His body became free for a fraction of a second and he made a jump for Charles, only to find himself immediately being tugged back. Almost as though he was bound by invisible chains. “ANSWER ME!” Erik’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.

Charles wiped his glasses with his sleeve and then bit the end of them. He appeared to be in extreme consideration. Finally, he spoke aloud, “Do I think you’re capable of murder? Yes. Do I think you have the intention or murder? Also, yes. Well, the cards aren’t looking good for you, Mr Lehnsherr. Anything you’d like to add?”

“Fuck you,” Erik spat.

“Perfect. Well, I suppose I’m only left with one conclusion.” He stood up and hooked his thumbs around his pockets. “Someone’s done a clever bit of handiwork on you, my friend, but you’re innocent none-the-less.” Erik suddenly toppled over, and he could feel his limbs again. He slammed into the table and knocked his nose, which immediately started streaming. “What?” he spluttered.

I said you’re innocent, a voice said, and Erik shook the thought away as he clambered to his feet. “What the hell are you on about? Don’t you want to convict me?” He pointed dumbly at the projected image on the wall. “I tried to kill a man, I thought we’d establish that.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Charles said, and his brilliant blue eyes were wide and bright. He summoned a pen from apparently thin air and waved it about to underscore his words. “You see, that’s what someone wants you to think. And they did a very good job of convincing you, I’ll give them that. Psychic interference: I’m almost envious, I wouldn’t have known if they hadn’t neglected one minor detail.” He tapped Erik’s forehead with the pen. “Anger. Your outburst of rage allowed me to distinguish what emotions were yours, and what emotions were planted there by someone else. Your apparent resentment for Mr Gibson, versus your indisputable resentment for me.” He stepped back and grinned, like this was a good thing.

#charles and erik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #magneto #professor x #xmen #cherik #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men fanfiction #xmen fanfic #drabble #cherik au #police au

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ralith · 4 months

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If you're still thawing from the cold, I can at least provide a Retired Trio fic to warm your heart, if that helps! Here goes:

Snowed in, icy roads, museum's shut down and Ratchet's hospital shifts are thankfully covered by his coworkers. He can't help but wonder if it's because he has great coworkers or if his people are worried about a man with his experience driving in the ice; either way, he's home now and that's what matters. And thanks to the tank of the house braving the cold before the slow freeze set in, there's groceries in the pantry. Pestering blankets of snow and ice have no effect on their electricity, so fortunately all the three of them need to do is survive wait out the cold. Ironhide decides to warm up their bedroom by putting a weightlifting bench in the empty space by their door and using some dumbells for a quick full body routine (after the lectures he's gotten from his husbands from overuse of certain other heating methods, Ironhide's chosen a more creative route this time.) After the quick pump, Ironhide puts his sweatshirt back on and slowly crawls into bed between Optimus and Ratchet, who then throw the blankets over their beefy heatrock to trap and spread his warmth to every inch it can. Ratchet, still feeling a bit under the normal body temperature, decides to adjust the heat settings a little more directly. He slowly lifts Ironhide's sweatshirt and undershirt to press his hand on Ironhide's warm belly, starting to rub in circles.

"Adjusting the heat settings, Ratchet?" Optimus inquires.

"Just enough until one of us has to get up and make breakfast/brunch," Ratchet answers.

Ironhide attempts to offer a solution, if he can find words in his paradise.

"Nghh, you know, odds are if I-mmph-get up now I could likely heat up the kitchen to-"

"Hush love," Optimus and Ratchet quip in unison before hugging each of his arms semi-tightly, wanting at least 5 more minutes of heaven. With Ratchet's free hand continuing with the stomach rubs, of course. He's gonna pay for that later though

Thank you for this! It's so sweet and cute!

I like your usage of the word 'pump' right after saying Hide's been overusing other heating techniques~

Do you think when OP saw Ratch warming his hands on Hides tummy that he thought 'hmm my hands are cold too' and slowly slipped them into the waistband of Hides pants to warm up? Now Hide is in heaven (surrounded by his adoring husband's and getting belly rubs) and hell (OP's hand is not moving and the tease of what could be is driving him nuts).

Eventually Optimus gets up to cook and that's when Hide gets his revenge on Ratchet, just while breakfast is cooking.

#humanformers retired trio

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mobilityshop · 5 months

Text

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onestepbackwards · 2 years

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(Chatting)

Shiny Anon here. I’ve worked up the courage to share my first attempt at Canon/Reader smut (actually, my first attempt at smut, period), I hope it isn’t too terrible. Reader is AFAB.

Note: /this/ implies the enclosed text it in italics, since it won’t let me use them.

Backstory: Aura Healer!Reader was hit by a terrible electric attack which, among other injuries, has damaged their voice and makes it difficult to move a lot without hurting. They are finally home from the hospital and given the clear for “strenuous activity.”

—

Emmet has a stricken look on his face as his fingers trace the lines on your skin. “Litchtenberg marks,” he whispers, horrified. He can see that the lines terminate in a star-shaped mark almost directly over your heart. His hands start to shake and you catch them in your own. You bring one hand to rest directly on the mark so he can feel your heartbeat.

“/I’m here/,” you whisper. “/I’m alive./”

Emmet swallows hard, then pulls you close and kisses you fiercely. Surprised, you freeze for a second before melting into the kiss. You realize that Emmet needs a sort of proof that you are really here with him. The rest of both your clothes are quickly shed and then Emmet is pressing you back into the bed, almost looming over you. His lips trace the same path his fingers had earlier, trailing kisses and nips over the lightning-shaped marks. You gasp, arching into his touch.

Emmet’s slender fingers deftly brush the sensitive skin of your belly, sliding further down to caress your most private of places. His mouth quickly follows. From where he kneels between your legs, he glances up at your face, silently asking permission, which is given by a shaky nod.

Your body jumps, hips thrusting up automatically when Emmet’s mouth finds you clit. Emmet easily pins you down against the bed even as his tongue lavishes attention on your most sensitive spot. First one finger, then two, slides inside you, curling and twisting in a way that makes you see stars. You squirm in his hold, one hand tangling in his silver locks to pull him closer.

Emmet laughs softly in delight at the reactions he is causing, the vibrations of his voice sending you spiraling even higher. The tension builds and builds until it finally snaps and the pleasure crashes over you in waves. Emmet hears you gasp and hiss his name, feeling your inner muscles clench and ripple around his fingers.

Something Emmet finds intriguing about you is that you are rarely vocal during sex. You do not scream or howl in pleasure, rarely emitting anything louder than a soft moan. Your facial expressions are very self-contained as well, but Emmet has never had trouble reading them. It is your eyes that really show how you feel, the blue aura flecks dimming or brightening depending on your emotions. The saying about someone’s eyes ‘glowing with pleasure’ can be very literal in your case.

Emmet watches with a satisfied smile as you come back down from your climax. “Good?” he asks.

You huff a whispery laugh. “/Very. Come here,/” you whisper, a relaxed smile on your own face. The hand that had been tangled in his hair moves to cup his cheek and gently tugs him back up. The resulting kiss is soft, and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

Emmet shifts, positioning himself so he is pressed up against your opening. He raises an eyebrow in silent question. “Go ahead,” you tell him. Emmet buries himself to the hilt in one swift thrust. Your breath comes in a sharp inhale as your inner muscles tighten around him reflexively. He groans, resting his forehead against yours. For a moment, you just breathe together as he waits for your body to adjust. Finally, you buck your hips a little, signaling that he can move.

Emmet sets a quick pace, the slick from your earlier release letting his body glide smoothly against yours. Your arms wind around his neck, and though you can’t really wrap your legs around his waist without pain, your hips still rise to meet his at every thrust. Emmet feels you tighten around him as you begin to spiral up again. As Emmet nears his own peak, his thrusts become erratic. Reaching down between your bodies, Emmet scrapes the pad of his thumb over your clit, sending you over the edge and you gasp his name again as you come hard. The clamping down of your muscles around him pushes him over too and you fall (fly?) into ecstasy together.

Afterwords, Emmet rolls you both onto your sides so he doesn’t crush you, and you just lie together. He is reluctant to disengage himself from you, despite having gone soft. You seem in no hurry either, simply snuggling close.

A yawn escapes you and Emmet laughs softly. He finally slips out of you so he can reach over and pull the blankets up around you both. Then he wraps his arm around you again. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says. “I love you, and I am verrry glad you are here.”

You tilt your head up so you can kiss him. “/Goodnight, Emmet,/” you whisper. “/I love you too./”

—

-✨

👀👀👀

Thank you so much for the good food, Shiny Anon!! This was a treat to read!!! You did great! It was an amazing read, thank you for sharing it with me! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

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