#but hey! at least I had a good sleep at the train station! they had a nice hostel there :D and I also got on a cool free tram!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urfavlarry · 2 months

Note

HI loved the tyler/aiden headcannons btw!

Wanted to ask if you could write something about the reader being apart of the group (after they finally escaped the realm and are free..and traumatized, but happy)

AND LIKE A LITTLE ROMANCE HAPPENING BETWEEN AIDEN AND THE READER!! Like after everything had calmed down, (3 weeks after they escaped) the group goes to a skating rink to have fun. Like normal teens 😞

Would love a oneshot of it!! :D

Aiden Clark x gn!reader

warnings: swearing, bad grammar

genre: fluff! :3

A/N: AHH I love this!! I skate myself so this is just 🛐

hope you like it <33

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You and the group have been planning a trip for quite a while. You were trying to celebrate the fact you finally escaped the damn realm and that lab they kept you guys in. Everyone was a bit shaken up, most of you couldn’t really sleep and you had sleepovers most of the time to try and sleep better. It usually worked, well at least for most of the group. You would wake up in the middle of the night, cold wind hitting your soaked figure. You often had nightmares and you couldn’t really go to therapy because you would be considered ‘crazy’, so you just had to pull through without any help. You know the group would be happy to help, but you don’t want to bother them when they had it worse. Back to the present time! You were currently in the graveyard, sitting in a circle near the campfire, you yourself sitting on your kind of beat up skateboard. Everyone suggested their ideas, Logan suggesting a museum, Ashlyn a restaurant, The twins suggested a waterpark and then Aiden and Ben said they didn’t really care where they would go.

An idea popped in your head and you smiled; “How about a skating rink? That could be fun? I know a pretty good one and theres also like a trampoline part connected to it so that’s pretty cool.” Everyone talks about the idea, Aiden agreeing instantly along with the twins. “Well is there a buffet there? Maybe we could later eat there and just celebrate?” Ashlyn suggests and everyone agrees looking at you for your response. You nod and everyone cheers, excited for the trip.

The day of the trip arrives, you all agreed to meet up at the train station at 8am and you were there early, already waiting there at 7. You watched the sunrise and you smile taking a picture and put your phone away and try out some tricks. You first tried an ollie, the key trick you need to know to learn most of the other ones. You record some of the tries and relax for a bit, watching the clips when suddenly your eyes get covered by a pair of soft hands. “Aiden..” You say and smile at the blonde boy, who had his usual relaxed demeanor. “Hey, you’re here early aren’t you?” He says and sits down next to you, resting his feet on his skateboard, rocking his legs from side to side. “Yeah I wanted to be here just in case anyone needed help with anything.” You say and yawn slightly, not really shaking off the sleepiness just yet. He nods and starts to yap like he usually does and you just listen, letting him yap your ear off. You didn’t mind, you weren’t much of a talker, so you usually just listened.

The others finally arrived just in time for when the train arrived. Everyone boarded and you found your seats, all of you sitting together. Ashlyn decided to catch up on sleep, along with Ben. The twins and Logan were playing some card game and You just listened to music, sharing headphones with Aiden. You lay your head on the window and drift off, feeling a hand on yours.

You get shaken awake, and you groan but gather your things and skateboard and get off the train, leading the way. You jump onto your skateboard and you guys skate/walk for about 15 minutes when you finally get there. “Here we are!” You say and pay for your entry, putting away your things and grab your phone along with your skateboard and run to the rink, doing a quick board slide. The others cheer you along as you drop in and do a rock to fakie.

Aiden watches you with a smile and Tyler and Taylor do their own thing as Ty teaches his sister the basics. Logan and Ben were off somewhere probably in the trampoline park and Ashlyn watched everyone, taking videos. “I’ll need to ask her to send me that later.” You think to yourself and manual.

You mind your own buiseness, riding up to a ramp when a kid suddenly jumps in your away, making you manual a bit too quickly so you fell on your elbow. “Fucking hell.. watch it kid!” You yell and hiss in pain as you look at the now bleeding elbow. Aiden noticed the fall and ran over to you and inspected the wound; “Hey are you okay? That was a nasty fall.” He says and you laugh; “Come on i’ve had it so much worse before, and plus people break bones doing this shit so i’m fine.” You say and stand up and walk over to the sitting area and take out some bandages you brought along in this type of situation. Aiden snatches them from you and looks at you with a kind smile; “Let me do it.” He doesn’t even give you time to reply and is already carefully wrapping the wound. Your face feels hot and you look anywhere but at Aiden, looking for the others yet they were nowhere to be found.

“There, that should be better, and by the way, when did you start skating? Your pretty good, almost better then me!” He teases and wraps and arm around your shoulder. You chuckle and smirk, teasing right back; “Oh yeah? How about a game of skate?” You challenge him and wait for his response, already knowing the answer. “Hell yeah! I’ll win for sure!” He runs to get his skate and you do the same, and that was the start of a very long game of skate. You guys got bored after a while, agreeing on a tie and sit down, breathing heavily as if you ran a marathon. The others came back and everyone agreed on going to the restaurant that was across the street from the skating rink. You walk with your skates and decide to hide them somewhere at the back of the building and head inside the restaurant, ordering food and refreshing drinks immediately.

You sit down in the booth and Aiden slides in next to you along with Ben and Logan, the others sitting on the opposite side. Everyone chatted and joked around and your elbow was killing you along with your legs as well. Your eyes droop a bit but you take a sip of your drink that shakes you awake slightly. Aiden taps you on the knee and you look up at him, raising a brow. He leans in and whispers into your ear with a low tone; “You okay? You look kinda off.” He says and you smile reassuringly and give him a thumbs up under the table. He hums and smiles as the waiter brings the food everyone has been craving for the past 5 hours. You eat your food in silence, some chatting here and there but mostly you guys Te in peace. After everyone was full you decided to go to the bathroom to clear your mind, of course not letting them know the reason. You walk into the bathroom and sigh, they were empty, unlike many other restaurants and you shrug, walking over to the mirror and fix your hair up a bit when you notice Aiden in the mirror. “Hey, I know I asked already but you really don’t seem fine. Is it the elbow?” He jokes and you shrug, giving him a slight smile; “I’m fine don’t worry okay? My body is killing me though.” You say and stretch your body, some satisfying cracks echoing throughout the bathroom. You go to leave when you get embraced in a warm hug, a hand running up and down your back. “Relax for a bit, they won’t notice we’re gone.” He whispers and you guys stay like that for a few minutes when you finally let go. He looks at you lovingly and your face feels hot as you avert your gaze away from him.

He lifts your face to look at him and leans in, your lips brushing against each other and your eyes meet, Aiden looking at you as if asking for consent. You inch closer and he takes that as a yes, soft lips meeting yours. Your lips move in sync with each other and his hands wander down to your waist. You pull away and you hide your flushed face in the crook of his neck. He chuckles lowly and hugs you close. “You know i’ve liked you ever since that day we went out to get the jeep.” He says and you look at him with a confused look; “But I thought you liked Ash—” You get cut off by a finger on your lips and he smile; “Remember I had my eyes on you the whole time, I may have been comforting Ash but I had my eyes on you. I didn’t know how to approach you, ya know?” He says and leaves kisses all over your face. “Now I’ve got you all to myself~” He says and holds your hand, dragging you out to the others who stared at you and whistled, Ben looking at Aiden with a proud smile.

Later that day when everyone finally got home, Aiden messaged you and soon after you heard a knock on your bedroom window. You playfully roll your eyes and mumble “Idiot.” quickly opening the window. Aiden hops in and tackles you in a hug, you falling back on the bed. “Hey! What are you doing?” You chuckle and play with his hair. You hear a mumbled “I missed you.” And you giggle, making him look up at you. “We haven’t seen each other for like 45 minutes?” “Too long.” He shrugs and peppers your face with kisses, moving down to your neck and collar bone. Your eyes droop and you start to fall asleep, finally in his embrace.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

#aiden sbg x reader #aiden clark x reader #aiden clark #aiden sbg #sbg aiden #school bus graveyard x y/n #school bus graveyard x reader #school bus graveyard #sbg webtoon #sbg (webtoon)#sbg x reader #sbg #sbg fanfic #sbg aiden clark #aiden clark sbg

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spdrvyn · 1 year

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i'll be lonely with you — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: with the passage of time and whispers from your acquaintances at the spider society HQ, you've found out that your boss has a habit of sneaking out of his office during the dead hours of night to eat dinner. completely alone.

NOTES: new formatting for fics !!! do you guys like it? :3 i decided to include summaries that way it would be easier for people to understand the general jist of the plot without me spewing nonsense in the notes. anyways enjoy !!!!! thanks for the support on my recent works as well ^_^

You didn't consider yourself the most introverted person.

Even when it came to hundreds of Spider-people, you tried to get to know who you could and become acquainted with as many of them as possible. How could you not?

However, there were few that you knew on a more personal level. People that you'd keep close to your side whenever you visited headquarters. People that you'd enjoy having an exchange of gossip with during lunch in the bustling cafeteria.

Miguel O'Hara wasn't exactly one of those people.

It's not like you didn't want to develop something more than a boss-coworker relationship. Though, conversations with him were always difficult, to the say the least. Most of the time, he's talking about work and anything that goes past that boundary goes unspoken.

Quite literally. You've forgotten the amount of times that you've built up the courage to mention anything about your other (not deceased) relatives or your friends and the amount of times that the room was filled with a silence so awkward that crickets are on the same volume as missile launchers.

Though, you didn't want to lose hope. You sort of understood where he was coming from. People go through grief and mourning in different ways, Miguel's was probably just isolation and a complete avoidance of discussions of personal life.

He was a leader. A good one. A trait of a good leader is to connect with their subordinates, establish relationships. So it really made you think.

How messed up was he that he missed that one quality?

"Hey. Your food's getting cold." There it goes, the sound of your train of thought leaving the station. Sometimes, you were grateful for Jess being there for you. She could snap you back to reality you like nobody else could.

You mutter an apology before stabbing your salad with your fork and taking a bite, Jess rests her head on her palm. Raising a brow at you, "So, did you want to eat lunch with me for fun or are you just using me to get info about Miguel? Again?"

Nervously, you shake your head. "It's nothing like that!" She leans in a little more, waving her other free hand in the air in a circular motion.

"...But if you have anything that you'd like to share then I'm not going to refuse entirely—"

"Oh my god. Fine, fine. What do you want to know?"

With that question, it felt like your mind blanked. You fidgeted with your fork, twirling a leaf of your salad against the plate as you pondered on what question to ask.

Jess responds with a deep sigh, "If you're trying to find a way to talk to him more, he doesn't leave that office of his much unless it's for work. He's in there most of time. Although..."

"Although?"

"Although, I've seen him come here normally somewhere around midnight to get a very late dinner alone. The place is less crowded, most are just in their own universe or sleeping or working."

Your face falls a little upon hearing that. "So I can only catch a non-serious conversation with him... in the middle of the night?"

"Exactly. Besides, there's a good chance he's going to just— continue talking about work with you whether he's in his office or not. You know that, right?"

You drop your utensil in defeat, burying your face shamefully in your hands. "I know..."

You quickly wrap up your lunch with Jess, as she shares bits and pieces about him. You had really wondered how she was able to learn all of these things about him anyway but before you had the opportunity to ask her, she told you to not.

Respecting her wishes, you keep your mouth shut. Respecting her even further, you decide to pack up both of your plates and wave her a goodbye before picking up those thoughts that you were left a while ago.

Admittedly, you didn't know why you were so persistent for something like this, for someone like him.

Determination was a strength of yours but that didn't mean that you didn't know where your limits rested and you would back off when you needed to.

There was just something. A swirling feeling in your gut that was telling you to keep going.

That it would be worth it.

So, you follow everything that Jess told you. Around midnight, he'd be alone, in the cafeteria, and looking for an empanada to snack on before heading back into his office. A very small fraction of his time left for personal conversation if you tried hard enough!

This most likely wasn't a good idea. You didn't sleep at all through the day but the thrill kept you alive and thriving. You confidently stride up to the counters of the cafeteria, picking out a small bag of chips for yourself and the last empanada for your soon-to-be snack companion.

Now, you wait.

You surveyed your surroundings and as you were doing that, you realize why he particularly emerges during these kinds of hours to eat. There was a significantly less amount of people.

Whenever you came here during the day, it was a miracle to be able to find completely empty seats. At times, you were forced to sit with a group of people.

You weren't entirely ungrateful for that though, you've made a lot of friends that way. Sure, it was awkward at first but the more you were forced to interact with people that way, the more you adapted to making small talk.

Even then, there were a lot of tables that were taken here save for one completely empty one at the far end.

Then, you finally see that navy and red suit.

Deciding to observe him just a little bit more, you watch him curse under his breath seeing the display case for the empanadas empty. Before he walks away any further, you tap him on the shoulder.

His mask was on, his eyes widen a little bit before you hand him the small box. "I saved the last one for you."

With a soft huff, you see the muscles in his shoulders and back grow loose once more, he hestitantly takes the container from your hands. Looking at it then looking back at you, "Thanks."

You two share a few seconds of awkward silence, you felt a little exposed. You decided to unmask for this because you wanted him to feel more comfortable talking to you rather than who you were as a Spider-person yet there's still that same awkwardness in the air.

Clearly without nothing to do and no idea on how to makem something better out of this, Miguel's about to walk off before you stop him once more.

"W— wait," A little piece of yourself dies inside as you hear yourself stutter but nevertheless, you keep going. "Uh, there aren't any other spots so is it alright if I sit you? I don't know any of the people here."

The way that you see the eyes through his masks narrow ever so slightly once the question escapes your throat makes your heart quiver like crazy.

You wanted to get to know him but damn, if you said that he didn't scare you sometimes then you would be lying.

You cry on the inside with sweet victory as he says...

"Fine."

That was it. That was all you got but you gladly take it! You have to catch up to him though because once you're done mentally celebrating, he's already a little bit far from you.

You try your hardest to keep your head straight but you can't help but look up and spare him one glance, the fact that you even had to look up at him really only emphasized your height difference with him.

Another factor that made you just a little bit more intimidated by him, his physique. You considered yourself to be of average height, you weren't the tallest person in the room but you were never the shortest as well. Just average.

The way he practically towered over you, his hand nearly being the size of your head. It made you feel something.

The moment that both of you have a seat, you take your opportunity.

"So, is there anything that you plan on doing after this?"

You get a little distracted once his mask comes off, he raises an eyebrow at you, crimson eyes that feel like they're looking straight into your soul. Though, side-tracked as he bites into the dough and meaty goodness of his empanada, with a shrug— he replies,

"Not really. Unless there's an anomaly I haven't heard of yet then I have no plans. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Was just curious is all." Why was this so hard?!

The conversation goes as what you expected. You'd ask a question every moment or so and he'd give you a short response before going back to his food. He wouldn't ask you anything back, wouldn't add any 'unnecessary' comments. Just bask in the silence.

You simply couldn't take it anymore, you didn't know how to express your interest in him without asking him more questions about himself which he seems to avoid trying to answer.

You couldn't ask him about his hobbies because he'll most likely say that he's too busy working to actually spend time gaining and branching out to different interests.

Dejectedly, you sigh. "I'm sorry for imposing— on your alone time, I mean." It was like everything that you wanted to say just kept spilling out of your mouth.

"I didn't want to eat with you at this hour because I pity you or— or I found you lonely or whatever. I just thought that whenever you weren't talking about work, we'd be able to get along."

You stand up from your seat, eyes mindlessly darting arounf the labels of the bag of 'Spider-O's' in your clutches.

"I'll, uhm, let you eat in peace now. Once again, I'm—"

"Wait."

Which ever brain cells died from that interaction certainly reignited now. "Sit back down," It comes off an order. An order you certainly obey.

"I wouldn't have actually said yes to you if I didn't want to talk." He starts. "I know a lot of people but it's not in the same way that you do. I know their names, their faces, their canon events. You know their feelings, their mindscapes, and their troubles—"

"—And those are the exact kinds of things that I can't comprehend most of the time. We understand people differently, is what I'm saying. I still have no idea why exactly you sought out me of all people but I will... try to gain this new perspective of things."

You want to tamp down the smile that creeps up on your lips as you hear those words but you can't. What he said, it all made sense now. You couldn't see the full picture still, but you were willing to find it—

"I understand. It's fine."

"So? Do you have plans after this?"

Together.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #fluff #romance #kind of #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #jessica drew #jess drew #spiderwoman #made this one extra sappy for u guys #miguel can be #so hard to write sometimes #hope i did him justice here

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waiting-for-a-sunny-day · 6 months

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1. “You think you’re the only one who can find a date?” Geto paused his inspection of himself to meet Gojo's gaze in the mirror. “Ah, no, sorry. You don't go on dates. You have to know the other person's name for it to count as a date.”

Behind the near black of his sunglasses, Gojo’s eyes widened with exaggerated offense.

“You can’t slut shame anymore, Suguru. It’s 2010,” Gojo teased, as he flopped back on Geto’s bed.

“I’m not slut shaming you. I’m saying you’re not in a position to act like me going on a first date is a scandal."

Gojo tipped his head backwards and leveled Geto with an over-dramatic eye roll.

He does that to make people notice how pretty his eyes are.

“It’s not a scandal. It’s…”

Whatever Gojo thought it was was a mystery, because he was uncharacteristically lost for words.

Despite what Gojo might accuse him of, Geto was not a sex negative person or a prude.

He was just madly in love with his best-friend-slash-roommate, and every time Satoru stumbled home with his clothes rumpled and his hair fingered through, Geto felt like burning Tokyo to the ground.

It was all the unhinged, unrealistic pining that led Geto to make this plan in the first place.

The Plan: Geto was going to get over his straight, no-strings-sex-only, relationship-phobic best friend.

Step One of The Plan: Find literally anyone else in the entire world that he could think about kissing without wanting to die.

- - - - Read more cut - - - -

A month earlier, he’d gone so far as to get a guy’s phone number. He’d popped into a café after a particularly foul curse he’d absorbed – hoping to wash the taste out of his mouth with tea and a pastry – and the barista had such a stark white shock of messy hair that Geto had done a doubletake to make sure Gojo wasn’t fucking around in a coffee shop on some bizarre mission objective.

The barista had been, admittedly, extremely attractive. His hair was bleached, but it suited him, and he had pleasing, well-proportioned features. Working on pure adrenaline and determination, Geto had asked him for his number. The guy had turned beet red but managed to stutter out his info to Geto.

Almost as soon as Geto left the café, though, the little nits and snags started to pop up in his mind.

Obviously, the eyes were all wrong. The shyness wasn’t right. The smile. His voice. He wasn’t tall enough, and his hands didn’t have that same graceful strength.

It was a laundry list of how fake-Satoru was emphatically not Satoru.

Geto wasn’t even all the way down the block before he deleted the barista’s info from his phone.

Now Geto was on attempt number two: a first date with a man who in absolutely no way resembled Satoru Gojo.

His non-Gojo-ness was exactly what prompted Geto to ask the man at the train station for his number. Shota was short, burly, square-faced, and serious. Geto had only clocked the man’s interest by the overly long looks he’d shot him.

At least I'm good at reading people…

“Hey, you should bring her back here,” Gojo said – pulling Geto’s attention back to the present. “We can watch that new horror movie. Human Earthworm.”

…unlike my oblivious best friend.

“Are you seriously asking to be the third wheel on my date?”

Gojo’s face was upside down - his head practically hanging off the end of Geto’s bed. The odd angle must have been what made Gojo’s smile look off.

“You worried she’ll be more interested in your hot roommate?”

Geto shot him an unamused look.

“I don’t know why anyone agrees to sleep with you,” Geto lied. “Your head’s so big, it seems like a crush risk.”

“They can tell I’m killer in bed,” Gojo smirked. “The risk is worth the reward.”

Geto turned away and pulled at the shirt he was wearing. He didn’t totally love it, but he also didn’t care as much as he should about impressing Shota.

It wasn’t as if Geto was about to fall in love with this train station stranger, but if he at least went through the motions, maybe his brain would get with the program and start considering non-Satoru people as potential romantic interests.

“But, seriously, Suguru,” Gojo said as he folded his hands under his head – making the hem of his shirt ride up. “What’s up with this date? I thought you weren’t into that sort of thing.”

Geto’s eyes drew immediately to the sliver of skin above the waistband of Gojo’s slim-fit black joggers.

The peek of skin couldn’t have been more than an inch wide, but Geto could see twin ridges of definition. The visual set Geto’s mind racing, thinking about the rest of Gojo’s skin.

Damn him for having a nice body.

“I’m trying to make myself get into it,” Geto said, wholly distracted by seeing Gojo’s abs and trying to not let his body get worked up, as if he were still a horny highschooler.

“Ohhh,” Gojo replied, his tone brightening. “I get it.”

Geto’s stomach flopped over as Satoru sprang up.

Did I just out myself?

“What do you get?”

“Nothing,” Geto said with a toothy grin that implied otherwise. “But - just so you know - I like you the way you are, Suguru.”

The idiot part of Geto’s heart – i.e., the whole of it – thumped hopefully.

“If you don’t want to date anyone, don’t date anyone,” Gojo added, cheerily. “I won’t let anyone talk shit about my best friend. I mean, who cares if you’re a virgin?”

Geto’s idiot heart plopped down into his stomach.

Gojo thought he was a crotchety prude who’d rather spend his whole life celibate than have any fun, and he still definitely had Geto squarely in the friend zone.

Obviously you’re in the friendzone, you idiot. He’s straight.

(Complete fic on AO3)

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bluesylveon2 · 1 year

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omg, can I request number 13 with sebek please?????

I did it anon! I wrote this! The ending could be better but I think this turned out good. This prompt really fit Sebek too lol

Prompt: 13. We make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine

Note: Modern au and aged up characters

Word Count: 1691

Warnings: not beta read, possible OOC characters (Sebek is an asshole at first), and an attempt at writing subways (I based it off NYC)

500 Follower Event

Yuu was having a not-so-good, horrible, very bad day.

It had all started when she had slept past her alarm and woke up to Grim, the recent cat she adopted, making her sofa a scratching post. Then, after running out of her house with a white blouse, a skirt, heels, and a cup of coffee in her hand, she magically ran into someone, spilling coffee on her clothes.

The person apologized, but Yuu wanted to scream. She only had 5 minutes left until her shift at the office started, and she did not want her boss or coworkers to get on her about it.

(There was a redhead in the IT department who was strict and infamous for lecturing a coworker who was late by two seconds).

It was a stroke of luck that Yuu made it on time. Everyone was too busy to notice her arrival except for Vil, who gasped at Yuu's current state. Luckily for her, he had a blouse and a skirt that he lent her (but not before giving her a lecture about her appearance).

The rest of her shift was boring after that. Yuu quietly sat in her cubicle while the chaos happened around her. It was a typical day, to say the least, until her boss, Dire Crowley, showed up with a mountain of paperwork and wanted it done by the end of the day because he was oh-so kind. It reminded her of the infamous trio in Accounting and Finance, who she was 100% certain were in the mafia. And so, Yuu left her job with a massive headache, a plastic bag with the company label of her soiled clothes, and a list of how to get revenge on her boss. The poor girl was working like Cinderella, and she only wanted to sleep while cuddling Grim.

Yuu made her way toward the train station and mindlessly went to her stop. Yuu could not hold back her yawn as the subway appeared. She tiredly followed behind the crowd into the train, letting her feet guide her inside. It was partially full, and luckily, only a few people entered with her. Her eyes landed on the spot near the door, perfect for her to sit and decompress.

Yuu only took two steps towards the seat when suddenly, a man with slicked back light green hair, yellow-green eyes, and the strangest green and black outfit she had seen sat down in HER seat. Now slightly awake but more annoyed, Yuu marched toward him.

"Excuse me, sir. That is my seat."

The man looked her up and down at her appearance, and his lips curled up in disgust like she offended him. "It is clear that I saw this seat and sat down first. Therefore, it is my seat."

Yuu huffed and wanted to say some not-so-nice words to him, but some children were around her. She chose to look down at his stupid-colored eyes with determination. "Look, mister. Don't you know the saying 'ladies first?'"

The man scoffed, "Of course I do. Do you think I was raised like a barbarian?" He said and eyed the plastic bag in her hands. "Unlike some people. Besides, I must be in top shape after spending all day protecting my Master."

Yuu stared at him like he was a crazy person. "You- jjsndgondvisjdf" She could not form words and chose to say sounds instead. One parent covered her child's ears.

"Do you not know who I am?"

Yuu stopped her rambling and looked at him. "I don't know and I don't care. If you don't move, then I have no choice."

The man's eyebrows furrowed, "What are you? HEY!" He yelled, causing some people nearby to silence him. Meanwhile, the girl on his lap made herself comfortable. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," She said like it was obvious. She turned her head to look into his eyes; a frown etched on her face. "Look, I had a tiring day today too, but I need to sit down after a long day at work."

The man blushed at the close proximity and looked away. His face was slightly red, and a pang of guilt filled his chest. "I'm sorry for being rude to you. I was unaware."

Yuu waved him off, "It's alright. You didn't know." She suddenly yawned and rested her head against his chest. She could feel how fast his heartbeat was going but was too exhausted to ask why. She felt like she was covered in a blanket. "You can just chill until it’s your stop. I'll get up when it is my stop."

The man looked at her curiously, "Where is your stop?"

Yuu yawned again. Her eyes felt heavy. "Ramshackle Street," she replied, her eyes getting starting to close. "You are so warm and comfortable," she said absentmindedly, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"Hey! What are you?" Sebek stopped talking and stared at Yuu's sleeping face. He moved his arm to shake her awake but stopped. He could see how exhausted she was by looking at the eye bags under her eyes and how she managed to sleep so quickly. It reminded him of Silver, but slower by two seconds.

Speaking of, Sebek's suddenly rang, and his friend's name was on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Ah! Sebek! There you are! We were looking for you. Where are you right now?" His other Master and Silver's adoptive father, Lilia's voice, replied. "My phone died, so I must use Silver's khee hee."

"Father, that's because you misplaced your charger." Silver's voice called out.

Lilia laughed. “Silly me!”

Sebek rolled his eyes, “Is the Young Master safe?”

Lilia huffed. “Malleus is next to me, eating some ice cream. You know how he is, but we have a more important matter to discuss. Where are you now? The city must be so big for you to accidentally wander off."

Sebek sighed. He should have been more diligent and kept sight of Malleus (the tallest person he knew) or Lilia, but he didn’t. And now he was stuck on a train with a random girl sleeping on his lap.

It was like the girl knew he was thinking about her because she mumbled something about 'that damn Crowley' and was loud enough to be heard by Lilia.

"What was that?"

Sebek scrambled to say something, "I apologize, Master Lilia! I am taking a train that will stop in the Diasomnia area, but I might be delayed. You see, there is this girl-"

"A GIRL?!?" Lilia exclaimed, "Why didn't you say that earlier? Is she your girlfriend? Did you meet online and finally get to meet in person? Am I finally getting grandchildren???"

Sebek could tell that Silver was rolling his eyes at the last part. "No, Master Lilia. She was exhausted from her work and ran into me on the subway. She is taking a nap right now."

"Oh, crumbs," Lilia sighed dramatically. "I thought I would finally experience what it is like being a grandpa. You know I am not getting any younger."

"We know." Silver and Sebek said at the same time.

"Well, make sure that the girl gets home safely, Sebek. Do you know where her stop is?"

"Ramshackle Street."

"Perfect!" Lilia exclaimed. "It is actually nearby Diasomnia, so we can meet you there. Malleus has always wanted to explore it anyways. It is known for its historic mansions, you know. Make sure to send your location or call Silver so we can find you."

Sebek nodded and adjusted Yuu by securely wrapping an arm around her so she did not fall off his lap. "Understood. It should be one of the upcoming stops, so I should be there soon."

"Good. See you soon, Sebek!" Lilia said and hung up. Sebek pocketed his phone and looked down at the sleeping Yuu. She looked peaceful, and she was breathing quietly. However, she did look cold, and her thin long sleeve did not look like it was enough. Sebek took off his coat, leaving him in his white shirt and tie (it surprised him just how he did it, given the complex design), and wrapped it around Yuu's body. He wrapped his arms protectively around her again and sighed.

"Next stop is Ramshackle Station. Stand clear of the closed doors, please," the intercom's voice called out.

Sebek gently shook Yuu's shoulder. "Hey, you need to wake up. Your stop is coming up."

Yuu slowly opened her eyes and looked around her surroundings. "Huh?" Her eyes landed on Sebek's face. "Oh, right. I took a nap on you. Let me get out of your way." She moved to stand up but was stopped by Sebek holding onto her hand.

"You have a few minutes until the train stops. You can stay until then..." His voice trailed off.

Yuu chuckled, her laugh sounding like music to Sebek. "Where are my manners? I'm Yuu." she smiled, causing Sebek's heart to skip a beat.

"I'm Sebek Zigvolt." Yuu's smile grew even wider as she clung to Sebek's coat. Realizing the unfamiliar fabric, she looked down in shock.

"Is this yours? Here, let me return it-" She began to take it off only to stop when Sebek shook his head.

"Keep it. Besides, you can wear it even longer if you allow me to walk you home."

Sebek expected her to say yes, not jump on him, and wrap her arms around his neck. "Yes! Thank you, Sebek!" She grinned. Maybe her day was finally getting better after all.

Bonus: Sometime during the walk back to Yuu's house.

"You know, this fabric seems pretty fancy. Are you a bodyguard or something?" Yuu asked while rubbing Sebek’s coat between her fingers.

Sebek nodded and smiled proudly. "Yes, I am. In fact, you might meet my masters when I drop you off."

Yuu's eyes widen. "Really? They must be important people for you to call them that."

"Of course! It is none other than the great Malleus Draconia! He is so great and powerful-"

Yuu sweatdropped as Sebek went on a rant about Malleus when all she wanted to do was to go home.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #sebek x yuu #sebek zigvolt #thanks for the ask!#bluesylveon 500 follower event

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thiccpettybitch · 10 months

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could write one where you and Miguel aren’t quite in a verbally established relationship yet but you sleep together a lot, and one day he comes over to your place to let out his stress but finds you in the middle of a really bad panic attack and changes modes instantly? I’m talking like super gentle, soothing words and small touches so light you can barely feel them and he just comforts you

Bonus points for gentle lovemaking after you’ve calmed down and he’s sure you’re ok :3

OKAY SO I DO HAVE MIGUEL AS YOUR BOSS STORY IN THE WORKS AS WELL AND THIS REQUEST FIT IT SO WELL SO...

Ehem. I have a lot of WIPs, i know. I'm sorry!

Enjoyed this request, it was super cute and hopefully you think so too! 😊

You've had quite a month, haven't you? Four unfortunate mishaps that made life a tad chaotic. First, there was that unfortunate Friday evening when you misplaced your apartment keys, leaving you stranded outside until your landlord came to the rescue the next day.

The second mishap was quite the fashion faux pas. Wearing an all-white blouse during the morning rush hour and then deciding to grab a coffee on the way to work – not the best combination. Thanks to a sharp turn on the train and a stranger's elbow, you ended up with an unsightly dark brown stain on your chest. The judgmental stares during the meeting were a bit much, but hey, at least your boss didn't seem too bothered by it.

Number three, well, it was a case of multitasking gone wrong. Chatting with colleagues while shredding papers led to an accidental mix-up, and the wrong paperwork got handed in. Thankfully, printing the correct ones saved you from your boss's wrath

And the fourth, oh-so-brilliant (insert sarcasm here) choice you made was having a bit too much to drink during a mandatory happy hour, as a reward for your team's hard work over the last three months. But hey, the drinking itself wasn’t the worst part, well… not exactly. That day, you ended up in bed with none other than your boss! Talk about throwing professionalism out the window. In the moment, you just shrugged it off, face down in his bed, clutching onto the sheets and all. But really, looking back, you couldn't believe it!

It was a mistake, no doubt about it. You both knew it, and you both decided to chalk it up to a drunken night's folly. No biggie, right? But then, to your surprise, it happened again, and this time, you weren't even tipsy. You were bent over his desk at work while he... well, you know the rest. Yeah, it was just another mistake, a huge slip-up; you never saw it coming

The sixth time, however, had been a moment of bad decision-making, with both of you being drunk on a misguided impulse. You ended up pressed against a wall in a random broom closet at work, where you both awkwardly walked back to your work stations – him straightening his tie, and you flattening your hair back down. Was it a mistake? Possibly. Reckless and stupid? Absolutely. The last time you two did it? Absolutely not.

Sex with Miguel was intense; the man had a certain charm and charisma. Despite being a stubborn workaholic during the day, he had a way of making your eyes roll to the back of your skull. The noises he would make when you dropped down on your knees for him weren’t bad either, that and the look he’d give you when you rode him made all the paperwork and late nights worth it, and then some.

Miguel still argued that it was a mistake, and you fully agreed as his mouth practically devoured yours. It was a mistake for sure, but damn did it feel good. Miguel always spoke about it as a stress relief, and so far, you agreed with him. Sure, you did end up speaking more. Sometimes, you ended up having lunch together, and a few times he’d given you a lift home, but it was usually because he stayed over for a few hours to, well… de-stress.

He did however have an unspoken rule of not staying the night, it went both ways and sometimes when you were too polite to agree to him driving you home you regretted it, sitting on a train at 3 am next to party girlies and drunks, your panties in your handbag weren’t your proudest moments.

---

It was a Friday evening, and you had just arrived home from work, slipping your shoes off as you walked over to your answering machine. Pressing play, you listened to the messages while absentmindedly putting away some groceries you had picked up on your way home.

You then walked over to your desk, dropping your work bag on the office chair, and started unloading the paperwork you had brought home. Not that you were thrilled about working over the weekend, but you were a bit behind and needed to catch up. As you placed some folders on your desk, you suddenly stopped. One file in your hand caught your attention – there was a sticky note attached to it. As you read the contents of the sticky note, a chill ran down your spine.

[I know what you’ve been up to, slut!]

What the hell?

You read the note over and over silently to yourself, even saying the words out loud a few times before putting it back down on your desk, frowning. Did someone know? And if they did, did they think you were sleeping with Miguel to get a promotion or something? A knot started forming in your stomach as your anxiety got the best of you.

"Hi y/n, it’s Michelle, one of the managers. I apologize for leaving a message after hours, but if you could come in for a meeting on Monday, that would be great. Don’t bother stopping at your office; just head straight up to my office as you come in to work."

You froze, gripping the folder in your hands tightly. The knot in your stomach grew, and suddenly, it felt harder to breathe, as if a lump was forming in your throat. You dropped the file and stumbled backward onto your bed, your eyes wide as you stared ahead, heaving. You couldn’t lose your job, not now, not when you had worked so hard to get it. With just barely enough to afford rent and necessities, you hadn't been able to save much. This job was stable, but you weren’t being paid enough to afford losing it. The thought of being fired because someone found out about your relationship with your boss terrified you. The company you worked for was your only reference since school, and you couldn’t risk that rumor getting out

Leaning forward, your head against your knees, you remembered what your mom had taught you to do when you were panicking, or more accurately, when you were having panic attacks. You had experienced them since school – nothing to be ashamed of, as it wasn’t uncommon, but they were still awful. Your chest felt tight and painful, and chills ran down your back. Falling backward against the bed, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing – just breathe, count to five, slowly. Just... just breathe.

Suddenly, you heard a noise coming from your hallway and your front door. Your eyes shot open, and you stood up, still heaving and feeling a bit dizzy. You stared out towards the dark hallway, panic rising up your throat. You lived in an okay neighborhood, but that didn't mean that crime never happened here. Had you remembered to lock the door? No... you were so focused on bringing in the groceries and putting away your Ben and Jerry's that now someone might be in your apartment, and you're about to- you-

You can’t breath properly! Oh god… You can’t-

"Hey, sorry about letting myself in, but I knocked, and the door was open. You should really make sure you lock it," Miguel said as he walked through the darkness of your hallway and joined you in your one-room apartment.

He let out a groan, stretching his arms above his head, his eyes screwed shut as he strolled past you and headed straight to your fridge. Pulling out your orange juice, he poured himself a glass. "I swear to God, half the people on our team don't do anything all day. I've had to deal with meetings after meeting after meeting today, while also having to check everyone's paperwork and make corrections," Miguel sighed, finishing the glass. Turning around with a tired smile, he continued, "I hope, for your sake, that you're prepared to stay in bed this weekend. I haven't been able to think about anything else but your-"

As he turned around, he stilled, his eyes going wide as he looked at you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. In the blink of an eye, his suggestive tone and the smirk on his face were gone, replaced by a look of concern. He walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he gently guided you to sit back down.

"What's wrong? You look so pale - are... are you crying?" he asked, crouching in front of you, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Someone knows. And they threatened me, and then I got a message, and they told management, and I'm gonna lose my job, and my apartment, and I don't have family, and I'm gonna end up on the street, and then you came in, and I thought it was a stranger in my apartment, and then- and then-" You were gasping, rambling so quickly that Miguel flinched, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what you were saying.

"Oye! Cálmate, cálmate," he said as he reached up and held your cheek, a worried look on his face. "Just breathe, breathhh. Look at me; breathe with me - in and out. Slowly." You leaned into the hand on your cheek; it was so warm, and his voice was so comforting that you could feel yourself slowly beginning to relax.

"There you go, cálmate. Breathe slowly, I got you," Miguel assured, offering you a small, comforting smile. He stood up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you close and laying down with you. For a moment, you were worried he was going to try something, but you practically melted in his arms as he began running gentle circles on your back, whispering softly for you to focus on your breathing, to relax into his touch, assuring you that he was there and that everything was going to be okay. You were safe there in his arms.

You watched as he had gone from: ready to bend you over the nearest surface, to holding you so gently yet so lovingly you almost fell apart right there on the spot. He left featherlight kisses on top of your head, reassuring you how well you were doing as you started to regain control of your breathing.

After about an hour of him holding you and providing comfort, his touch so gentle and warm that you craved it, he moved away slightly to help you sit back up. You finally let out a breath, small tears dried on your cheeks. He sat there quietly, watching you, with one hand on your back and the other wiping away a final escaping tear from your cheek.

"You feel better?" he asked, and you nodded slowly, feeling a bit self-conscious.

"Good." The smile on his face made you blush lightly, and you brushed some hair behind your ear as you spoke, "You're really good at that, calming someone down, I mean. Sorry if I made things weird."

Miguel chuckled and shook his head, "No, I might be an asshole sometimes, but I don't hold it against people for having common human emotions," he joked as he stroked your back.

"My little brother, Gabriel, he used to have them when we were kids," he said, shaking his head as if reminiscing on something fondly. "Smartest little shit around town, but he had a knack of letting his anxieties get the best of him. Sometimes it just... becomes too much. So don't worry your head about it, okay?"

This new side of Miguel you were seeing made your chest feel warm, and you couldn't help the small smile that formed on your face as he looked at you fondly. You had expected him to just leave or tell you to calm down or stop being stupid, but instead, he had held you and made you feel safe. There was no hidden agenda, no "okay, u wanna fuck now?" like with some of your exes. He was just there, caring not because he had to or wanted something from you, but because he genuinely cared about you.

You shared everything with him, showing him the sticky note as he took a picture of it with his phone, mumbling that he would look into it, so you didn't need to worry. You also confided in him about your fear of losing your job and, even though it felt embarrassing, you disclosed your financial situation. Throughout the conversation, he attentively listened, offering comfort when needed and simply being there when you needed to express yourself.

By the end of it all, he managed to convince you that there was nothing to worry about. As the manager of your group, he assured you that if anyone had a reason to fire you, he would have been informed. Besides, if anyone had an issue with your relationship, they would have approached him first.

‘’And before you even worry your pretty little head about it, I’m too valuable of an employee to those jackasses to ever be fired over something so small. I don’t intend to lose my job OR let you lose yours, no matter how good you look on my dick, Okay?’’ You smiled and rolled your eyes at his joke, your cheeks still warming a bit at the compliment.

You felt so much better; all the worry and stress just slipped off your shoulders. Instead, you now felt something completely different. Glancing over at Miguel, he tilted his head with a small smile on his face, asking if you wanted to get some takeout, and he’d offer to help you finish some paperwork. Instead, you leaned forward and kissed him, catching him off guard. He kissed you back, placing a hand on your shoulder and slowly pulling back to look at you.

‘’We don’t have to… We can just get something to eat, or if you want some time alone, I could leave and call you tomorrow? You don’t have to-‘’

You playfully jumped on him, and as he fell back, he let out a hearty laugh while you peppered kisses all over his face. Amidst a string of praises and exclamations like, ‘my god, you are so perfect, I'm gonna lose my damn mind!’. You finally stopped and looked down at him, enjoying the sight of his slightly red cheeks and the loving gaze he returned.

‘’Do you…’’ you began, biting your bottom lip, ‘’wanna stay the night?’’ you asked as you looked down at him lustfully.

He gently placed both his hands on each side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he pulled you down for a lavish kiss. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, and you fully melted against him, kissing him back with equal intensity. That night you ended up doing it in bed, not just doing it but doing it missionary. He had stopped you as you went to bend over the bed, in your underwear, and you looked up at him confused.

‘’I can fuck you any day you want, tonight I’m gonna make love to you, cariño~’’ He purred as he pulled you towards him.

‘’That’s so corny!’’ You laughed, and he held you close, mouth agape as he feigned being heartbroken, with a playful look of betrayal on his face.

‘’Get that fine ass over here then!’’ He said, and you squealed as he pulled you on top of him, playfully swatting at your behind. Both of you laughed, and he pulled you close, kissing you passionately, and you eagerly returned the kiss.

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shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck · 8 months

Text

I made a slightly cursed au involving a Demon train.-

The gang are souls bound to the train. they are being punished for the bad things they did in life. It is not an eternal punishment but it is still really long. THeir job is to transport escaped demons hunters have caught back to the underworld. As expected this is NOT a pleasant job. The gang has to be on constant lookout, not to make sure the demons don't escape.. it‘s to know when they inevitably will. It WILL happen every night.They just need to know how to recapture the ones who escape.

Dust is the one who keeps track of demon types and how to recapture them. He has a journal of those in the same job as him before and adds any discoveries he finds in order to help the next soul that will inevitably be punished with the position. He knows a lot… needless to say he sleeps the least out of all of the gang. (he writes down the all the types of demons in the train that night as well)

Horror is a mechanic and general maintenance worker for the train. (hey even demon trains need some repairs every once in a while) he can cook but doesn't get any real ingredients very often. Also there are all ghosts so they don't really eat :^ Even though he can't cook anything for him or the gang he is able to cook demon foods.This is a surprisingly good motivator. It seems everyone likes food…

Killer is the conductor you could say. He makes most decisions and is in charge most of the time. Despite his recklessness and general goblinry he is actually a rather good conductor. He is also good with knives. But Killer has a problem making deals with demons… he needs to stop- he can't sell his soul for the fifth time this week- it is not physically possible- Nightmare has to break any connections Killer might have formed with demons because of deals he’s made.

Cross is the weapons master. He is in charge of the weapons and can use a variety. He also has to make sure none of the gang's weapons are swapped for fakes without them noticing. A fake weapon is next to useless against a demon and Cross knows that could be a very painful mistake. Demons will try and swap weapons whenever possible.

Nightmare is not a member of the crew on the train. He IS THE TRAIN. >:D for the most part manages himself and does not need “fuel” . He is a demon who has been punished by being bound to the train. This allows for travel between realities possible in the first place. Without him the train would not run or portal to the underworld in the first place. (in short he’s a cursed eldritch horror train boi)

Dream is a demon hunter (a non mortal that hunts demons that have escaped.)

He is friends with Ink,Blue,and Stretch who are paranormal investigators and ghost hunters. They don't know about Dream being well.. Not mortal and they keep wondering why all their ghosts seem to disappear. They have a van that they drive around. Stretch is the main Driver and technology guy but doesn’t really go into any of the haunted places. Ink and Blue had been friends since they were little and so they decided to become paranormal investigators. They later found Dream who wished to join them and have been traveling together since.

Dream disguised himself as a mortal in order to Join Blue,Ink, and Stretch. He simultaneously is able to locate demons and Keep The rest of his friends safe from the demons and spirits they are hunting. Though Blue is rather frustrated all the demons keep disappearing soon after they show up.

Dream then Takes any demons to the nearest “train station” which is not visible or tangible to mortals.

if you have any questions about this au then i would enjoy answering any of them.

i am attempting to find the post that inspired this. it was one about steam engines and what they looked like if their boiler exploded or something...

#herrings rambles #nightmare sans #undertale au #bad sanses #killer sans #dust sans #horror sans #Phantom Train au #star sanses #dream sans #swap sans #underswap papyrus

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blooming-violets · 1 year

Note

My sister in Christ, first off, hi. Second off, amazing writing like *chefs kisses* all around.

I don't know if you're taking requests or not, so sorry if this is out of place. I would love you to smithereens if you did a part three for the Peter Parker car accident fic.

Maybe his girlfriend could come out of the coma but like need lots of help recovering mentally and physically? Idk, just an idea.

Xoxo 🕺💃🏽🕺💃🏽

The original car accident fic can be found [here] AND WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE SHOT but then turned into a part two [here] aaaaannnd now a part three.

It's pretty short but she's awake and alive and here to stay...and spilling all Peter's secrets but he ain't even mad about it because he's just happy she's alive.

She had been awake for exactly one week…if he could call it “awake”.

Coming out of a coma wasn’t anything like the way movies or shows portrayed it. May, and a few other nurses, tried to warn him as such but Peter was never very good at listening. She didn’t blink her eyes open and reach for his hand with a slightly confused smile. She didn’t ask how long it had been or what had happened to put her in the hospital. She didn’t seem relieved to be alive or happy to see him or even knew who he was. It was like she had no concept of being in the hospital at all. Her big eyes gave off vacant stares, almost as if she was sleeping with them open. When she spoke, her voice would be small and scratchy, and nothing she said made much sense. Sometimes she would fall asleep mid sentence. The doctor claimed that this was all normal. He heard the term “PTA” thrown around a lot. Or post-traumatic amnesia. It was apparently something that happens after a traumatic brain injury and is common among people waking from comas. He only half heard what the doctor’s said when they spoke to him. His focus was usually trained on his girlfriend.

Even though she looked rough, he liked seeing her without the tubes blocking half her face. Her eyes might be unfocused and her words might sound like she’s speaking a forgein language at times but she was conscious. Being conscious meant she could improve.

And she did. Day by day. Little by little.

Her memory was nearly nonexistent. She kept getting her dreams confused with reality. She would wake up and be absolutely certain that she had spent the evening dining on a cruise ship in the Alaskan waters. She would excitedly tell him how her boyfriend had managed to win the cruise tickets after competing in a pie eating contest and dominating the other competitors. Then she would pause, blink a few times while staring at his face, and laugh about how he looked just like her boyfriend. Peter would smile and tell her that he was glad she enjoyed her cruise ship dinner. And he was glad. If she got her dreams confused with reality, at least she was having good dreams, and he was present in them…even if she couldn’t make the connection between her dream boyfriend and himself being the same person.

A week after she woke up, her memory was still not right, but it was slowly getting better. Yesterday she had successfully remembered Peter’s face as being someone she knew. It was better than nothing. He pushed the elevator button to her level. Now that she was awake and stable, he felt less guilty running home to shower every few days. When the doors opened to the neuro recovery ward, he stepped out and smiled at the nurses behind their station.

“Hey there, Spider-Man!” One of them looked up with a sly grin. “Save any people last night?”

Peter’s smile faltered and his face immediately flushed as the panic rose, “...What?”

Alarm bells rang in his head. His heart pounded in his chest. How did they know? Did that paramedic say something? He should have never told her his name or taken off his mask in front of her. He thought he could trust her. If his secret got out-

A chorus of laughter followed his panicked spiral.

“Your girlfriend has been telling anyone who will listen that she’s dating the infamous Spider-Man. She claims that he once brought her on a rooftop date overlooking Rockefeller Center during the Christmas tree lighting. We never knew you were so romantic, Spidey.” The nurses giggled, clearly assuming that her words were nothing more than another confused, dream infused reality instead of the actual truth.

Peter forced a smile and took a shaky breath, “Ha, ya got me! It’s me, you’re friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, just swingin’ in to check on my girl.”

“Aww, that’s sweet. How lucky she is to have a real life superhero looking out for her,” she winked at Peter to indicate she was only teasing. “She’s doing well today! Go see if she can remember your face this morning. Don’t want her actually falling in love with Spider-Man instead of you.”

He let their jests fall into the background as he swiftly walked to her room. His heart was pounding in his chest. Not because he was angry she was out here spilling his secrets but because she actually remembered something. Last December he surprised her by setting up a rooftop picnic as they watched the giant tree light up. That was no dream she was recalling. That was a memory.

Peter burst into her hospital room to find May sitting by her bedside and speaking softly to her. He beamed at the two of them, jogging over to his girlfriend and planting a big, happy kiss on her cheek.

She made a face of disgust and turned to May, saying sarcastically, “Who does this nurse think he is? Personal space much? They’re gettin’ real friendly here.”

May chuckled under her breath, “Nurses these days are very hands on. Peter, honey, why don’t you have a seat? I was just about to leave and I’m sure she’d enjoy the company.” They often took turns watching over her as she didn’t have any family of her own.

She studied him from her hospital bed with wide eyes, analyzing his face, “Hey, I know you. Has my boyfriend ever saved you from a disaster? He’s Spider-Man. He saves people. We’re going to get married someday…probably…if he wants to. I’m going to have his Spider babies.”

May suppressed another laugh and patted her nephew’s arm, “She also had a very good dream about Spider-Man last night. I think you might have some competition on your hands.” She gave Peter a quick wink. “I’ve got to get home. I had a full night shift but I couldn’t leave without stopping in to say good morning to my favorite girl. You take care of her, honey. I’ll see you later.”

Peter waited until they were alone in the room before he turned to her with a big smile, pulling up a chair to her bedside, “You are an absolute nightmare, you know that? Almost gave me a damn heart attack today. Could you please do me a giant favor and stop telling everyone you meet my biggest secret?”

“Okay,” she stated with vacant ease. “What’s your secret?”

He laughed under his breath, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Her smile faded the longer she stared at his face. Her brows pinched together in thought. He could tell she had just remembered something and was working hard to put it into words.

“...Peter…” She whispered. “That woman called you Peter. That’s my boyfriend’s name. You look like him. You come here every day. You sit by me. You bring me flowers. You talk to me. You fall asleep in that chair every afternoon. You look just like him.”

He held his breath and nodded, silently watching her try to put the pieces together. It was like he could see her bruised brain starting to heal in front of his eyes.

“Why do you look like him?” She asked.

He blinked back the tears starting to press into his eyes, asking softly “Why do you think?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes intently studying him, “You’re Peter, aren’t you? My Peter. I think I know you. I think you might belong to me.”

His smile broke through the tears and he quickly cleared his throat, “Yeah. I belong to you.”

“Cool,” she sighed, sinking back into her pillows. Her face settled back in its placid, nearly vacant expression once more.

“I love you,” he whispered to her, terrified of letting the moment pass.

She turned her head back to face him, confusion pulling at her brows, but she flopped her hand out on the bed for him to take. He gladly accepted the offer. It was the first time since she woke up that she willingly reached out for him. His thumb brushed over her fingers as he relished in the feeling of holding her again. He would wait for her forever.

“I think I love you, too,” she whispered back, a tiny smile gracing her face. "Spider-Man."

#tasm #tasm x reader #the amazing spiderman #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #spiderman #car accident fic #car accident #blooming-violets #blooming violets #blooming violets fic

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butler-on-beale-street · 2 years

Note

Can I request an Austin Butler imagine where the reader suffers a panic attack and he’s there to calm them down?

This is definitely more of a mini fic than it is an imagine, but I'd assume you wouldn't mind too much!

In a Train Car, Out of My Head | Austin Butler X Reader

Warnings: mention of panic attacks, disassociation, derealization. Fluff. A very supportive Austin. :)

Word Count: 1K

Rating: PG

“Baby, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Austin assured you, pulling you close to him as you waded through the tight crowd of commuters bustling through the New York City subway.

“I uh– I. I–” You sputtered, attempting to explain the way you were feeling to him, but nothing came out. This part of the subway was particularly dim, the only source of light consisting of a few bursts of light pouring down the stairs from the busy New York streets, and several poorly-maintenanced incandescent light panels above your head. You took a moment to begin counting the panels as you felt your anxiety building. After a moment, you closed your eyes as Austin pulled his arms protectively around you. It was hard to discern rational thought from the screaming whistles, shouting people and the screech of the trains. Your only choice was to dissociate. One thing that this station had going for it was acoustics. Your brain couldn’t help but wander, perusing the obvious reason why buskers so often choose busy train terminals to set up impromptu performances. Somewhere deep within the labyrinth of the New York City underground, you could hear the brassy twang of a trumpet bouncing off of the walls, adding yet another dimension of noise.

“Baby?” You felt Austin shaking you from your moment of dissociation. “Baby…” His tone lifted with concern.

“Huh? What?” You finally responded, pulling yourself out of the stupor. You were breaking out into an anxious sweat, and you were hyper aware of the sticky sensation covering your body. All of the noise drilled into you, scraping at your ability to focus.

“Are you okay, baby? You look terrified.” You weren’t surprised that he could see your obvious discomfort.

“I’m not used to this.” You almost had to shout over the noise. You turned your head out, bringing yourself to look at the crowd again. Your words were clipped and void of your usual tone.

“Well, you’re not used to this type of transportation, at least,” Austin answered, stepping to your side, holding your hand as businessmen and women folded themselves sideways to snake through the terminal. “LA is a huge city, but the culture is different here.” You didn’t answer. Instead, you tried your best to pull your consciousness back into your body.

The train arrived in a hurry. You didn’t have much time to sit there on the platform panicking. Austin pulled you into the train and into the least busy corner imaginable, which still ended up being packed like sardines. A baby was crying beside you and you watched as the mother tried to coo the infant back to sleep.

You didn’t realize it, but you were beginning to hyperventilate, feeling the increasing discomfort at the back of your throat begin to pull into more and more tension, your senses blurring with overstimulation. You felt your insides churning in some sort of undulating cold-heat sensation that was beginning to send you further into a panic attack.

“Hey, hey.” Austin said, adjusting in his seat to face you, realizing what was happening. “Y/n. Open your eyes.” He said a bit too intensely. “I’m sorry, baby. Can you please open your eyes and look at me?” You heard him talking to you, his deep voice beginning to break up the disconnection in your head. You opened your eyes slowly, immediately squinting from the unnatural light streaming into the train car. “Where are you and what do you see?” He asked, running you through a diagnostic you had done many times before.

“I am in New York City with you inside of a train car.” You answered slowly. “It’s cramped in here.”

“Very good. What do you hear?” He said, taking both of your hands. You felt his thumbs stroking across your knuckles.

“Um. Uh– it is loud. There’s an annoying baby.” Austin looked over at the mother, watching her grimace at your comment. He mouthed a quick sorry before looking back at you.

“What else?” He asked.

“There’s a metallic screeching I don’t like,” you admitted, feeling the vibration and shrieks of the car connecting to the track underneath you. “I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Too many people are talking,” You said.

“How about touch?” What is touching you?” Austin asked softly. He was always so patient with you, willing to take you through this technique every time things just seemed to overwhelm you.

“You are. You’re holding my hands. I don’t mind it.” You squeezed his hands a little, reassuring him that you appreciated him. “I feel the hard seat underneath me. It’s warm from previous passengers. I don’t like that.” You always felt free to be honest with Austin and you knew that he wouldn’t judge you. You watched his expression, noticing a small smirk of amusement beginning to grow before he sucked in his lips to attempt a more subtle reaction.

“Mmhmm, what about smell now?” He added.

“It smells stale and like body odor.” You answered honestly. “Also a bit like restroom cleaner.”

“Can you taste anything?” He asked, arriving at the final sense.

“No, not really.” You realized after a moment that although you still felt anxious, you felt like yourself again; you no longer felt like you were watching your body from above, like your movements weren’t your own, but someone else’s.

“I’m with you. You are safe. We will be there in less than ten minutes.” He said, giving you information that comforted you. “We’ll get a car back to the other side later today. I think you’ve had enough public transit for one day,” he said, leaning in and kissing you softly on the top of your head.

“C’mere,” he added, adjusting himself comfortably in his seat, opening his arms for you to curl into him. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

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scenetocause · 1 year

Note

any guesses as to how max and lando both wound up sick. just curious.

[cn: cheating]

"You haven't sucked me off for ages," Lando pouts. Max nearly chokes on his mouthful of avocado toast.

"Mate." His ears are turning pink, he can't look at Pietra. "What the fuck."

"Well it's true, you haven't." Lando says it primly, goes back to demolishing some poached eggs with gay - literally - abandon. Like he hasn't just derailed Max's life for the fiftieth and possibly worst time this week.

He's going to have to do it at some point so he glances round at Pietra, who at least doesn't look completely disgusted with him, just like she's contemplating ways to kill Lando. Which he's fully onboard with, actually. It could be a new date concept, if Lando's going to insist on coming along.

"No, I haven't," is all he can muster as a response.

The thing is. The thing is that Max knows he's being a little bit of a hypocrite on a whole bunch of levels. Because he used to come on all Lando and Luisa's dates and fill in all the ways Lando's a rubbish boyfriend by being a better one and she didn't seem to mind that Lando just doesn't count sleeping with Max as anything, so they'd carried on doing it. Max is also pretty good at being Lando's boyfriend, in terms of getting him to act normally.

But Max should've known it wasn't going to work the other way around. He'd been so careful to keep them separated, at first. Partly out of fear Pietra would realise he's very much not an F1 driver and realise she could do better but much more out of knowing this wasn't going to go down well with either of them. It's a hard sell "hey can my best friend, who's chronically weird, hang out with us all the time and also sometimes he has to spoon me for emotional support."

He's tried to find things in it for Pietra but she could go to Monaco anyway and have a more normal time. She's not that keen on coming to grand prix, although he thinks she would if it was his racing and let's not take that train of thought too far to the depression station.

And Lando can't act normal about him and Max doesn't want him to. Was maybe trying to provoke this by getting a girlfriend in the first place - which isn't fair, that's not why he's dating her, it's just that something makes him want Lando's attention as much as Lando wants to give it to him and if they could ever just make that work they'd probably be a lot more normal.

The problem, really, is that Lando feels much more like forever than his girlfriend does. Which is pretty cursed, especially when he's openly sabotaging Max in the middle of brunch.

She doesn't bring it up with him, probably because there's nothing to talk about. Max had caved under about one minute of scrutiny from her about the nature of his relationship to Lando and then promised they weren't like that anymore and then slept with Lando the second he touched down in Nice.

Which is bad. He knows it's bad. He objectively knows this is bad boyfriend stuff and he doesn't want to be that, he wants to make things work and be in love and get married and have kids. Be normal - except that he can't.

It's like the stupid mess in his brain. He could just not have whatever makes him demotivated and mopey for days on end and it'd be better. Simpler, at least. Make more sense for the way his life's supposed to be going but instead he's had Lando fussing over him for a week because Max accidentally said some depressed stuff even though he'd been pretending that wasn't really going on anymore and now Lando's trying to add every possible enrichment to his enclosure.

Which is how they've ended up in Max's bedroom, Lando's hair freshly clipped and stream done, with Lando trying to get his cock in Max's mouth.

"Will you," he bats Lando's hand away from his hair, "just stay still and let me do this?"

"I'm trying to help." Lando sounds way too aggrieved for a man about to get a blow job. "It's been so long maybe you've forgotten how to - ah"

Max hums, knowing how good that feels when someone's got their mouth round your dick and then relaxes his throat, leans into it. Feels himself drooling on Lando's dick at the same time as Lando settles back into the mattress, sighs out how much he's enjoying it.

"Ah, that's so good - you're so good."

It's embarrassing how easily taken apart Max is by the praise.

Lando's fingers thread through his hair and he doesn't fight it, this time. "I missed you, baby," Max groans at the nickname, dick twitching. "I missed this, missed us."

It's a good job there's a dick halfway down Max's throat so he can't say anything stupid like 'me too, buddy.'

Lando's leaking already, messy in Max's mouth when he swipes his tongue over the head, lapping at it. He always gets so needy for it, whimpering and whining and pushing his hips up in desperate little circles - it's like the opposite of the way he fucks Max, all deliberateness. Like this he's just a helpless kitten, biting his own fist to try and stifle the noises he's making.

Max pulls off for a second, strokes Lando's hip, when he's getting really desperate. "It's ok," he says, trying to guide Lando, get him to turn the overwhelming sensation into a conclusion and Lando just whimpers again, biting his lip.

He comes into Max's mouth a minute later, back arching and Max lies down, head on Lando's tummy, to kiss his heaving abs afterwards. Lando pulls him up after a minute, holds him and Max's erection isn't so urgent he can't enjoy it for awhile.

When Lando returns the favour, chaotically sucking Max's balls while he's jacking him off, it doesn't take long either for Max to come or for the guilt to sink in. He can't come up with an excuse for why he can't stop doing this, only the inevitability that he won't.

They both claim their sore throats are from golfing or the rain or hayfever or something. Lando smuggles Max back to Monte Carlo two days later and fucks him in every room.

#emptyhalf fic

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goldenhxurs · 26 days

Text

Fire station 118

Chapter one — Starting over

Pairing : Tommy Kinard x original male character named Braxton Kingsley

Summary : After that disaster of a night, Braxton packed his belongings and flew out of New York.

What if Braxton Kingsley’s the one to take over Tommy’s spot at the fire station 118. And what if instead of becoming a firefighter, Evan “Buck” Buckley was the proud owner of a bar in downtown Los Angeles.

Ratings & warnings : Explicit 18+, minors dni.

Words count : 1.8k

Tucked away in the far corner of a certain bar called Heaven’s on earth with his hand curled loosely around a glass filled with their cheapest whiskey, Braxton Kingsley’s looking around, avoiding anyone’s gaze. His eyes trained on the tiny television playing an old football match, the poor signal gives the picture a grainy quality and breaks up the audio—not that it actually matters—with the classic rock blasting over the crackling speakers and a few of the customers screaming the lyrics at the top of their lungs.

Karaoke bar. This was definitely not a place where he imagined himself sitting in two years ago.

“Hey.” Braxton glances up to stare into the sparkling blue eyes of the owner of this fine establishment, and unfortunately one of his closest friends, Evan Buckley. “You seem more miserable than usual. Bet you could use another drink.”

“Good evening, Buck. I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking, asshole.” He dramatically pushes the glass towards the other man with one finger, and Evan fills it up with a smirk. “I just drove over twenty five hours, I’m fucking starving, need a goddamn shower and a much needed good night of sleep.” As the owner pulls the bottle back, Braxton snatches up the glass and guzzles as much of the burning liquid as he can without choking.

God, how he misses the taste of a good bottle like the English Sherry Cask. This Jack Daniels is hideous, he thinks.

“It’s a good evening indeed, right. The weather was really nice today.” The man sucks his teeth and gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Was it really that bad? I mean come on, last time I checked on you, you were living the American dream.” Evan Buckley has never been one to ponder his words before speaking. He’s more of a speak now, think later kinda guy. And Evan’s still fairly young, he has so much more to learn and experience as a person, Braxton could never truly be upset about his behaviors.

The ex-businessman groans, letting his head fall onto the sticky table with a thunk. “That was over two years ago, you dumbass. And I had to leave that shithole, couldn’t bear the thought of staying up there mother minute after the truth was out.” Buck makes a sound in the back of his throat, suddenly uncomfortable and very aware of what he just said, a feeling of guilt settling deep in the pit of his stomach. He should’ve reached out more often, or sooner in that case, especially after the multiple articles he read on the internet. He should’ve been a better friend, he thinks. But like everyone, he got caught up with his responsibilities as a new owner and the lady of stable employees didn’t help. That and the dozens of failed relationships he went through in the last year. “Spent the last two years in Arkansas, signed up to the fire academy over there, recently graduated and got assigned to the fire station 118 over here.”

“You can stay at mine as long as you need, y’know. At least until—” Braxton suddenly sits up and waves a hand at his friend, silencing him with a simple gesture. Evan shrugs, playfully rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine. But you can’t say I didn’t try to help your stubborn ass.”

Braxton shoots him a glare, sipping on his whiskey again. “You know I have enough money to buy a house right? Hell, with the amount that I have in my bank account I can definitely book a nice and luxurious hotel room for the next forty years.” He softens his voice at the look in his friend’s eyes. Evan Buckley isn’t one to openly admit when he’s hurt, but Braxton knows him well enough—they’ve been friends for over ten years—to read those beautiful eyes. He gives the man a tight lipped smile, his jaw tight and heaves a sigh. “It’s not about bragging, nor—look, it has nothing to do with you. I love you, you’re like a brother to me and you know it. But I’m too old to sleep on someone’s couch.”

Buck cuts him off with a wave of his hand too. “Yeah, I know. S’fine.” He then gives him a small smile—one of the ones he reserves for the rare drunken nights spent on Braxton’s couch while visiting the big city, when the sun was set and all that was playing on television were bad n’intimes sitcoms reruns, and that feeling of being the only two in the world enveloping them both until the next day—“But if you need someone to show you around, or anything at all really, I’m your guy. You can call me at any time of the day or night and I’ll show up like the knight in shining armor coming to rescue the damsel in distress. I’ll try my damndest to make your wishes come true, city boy.”

How Braxton wants to believe every single word his friend just said. But it’s out of the question, because Braxton’s deep desire right now is to be able to go back to the man he once was two years ago. “It’s a damn shame though. That you went and signed up to the fire academy. You could’ve worked for—with me. We could’ve been work-married.”

That seems to put back a smile on Braxton’s lips, not the ones that reach his eyes, but enough for both men to laugh at Buck silliness.

And Braxton’s thankful for it.

The newly recruited firefighter shakes his head and reaches over the table to clink his glass with the almost empty bottle of Jack Daniels that Buck’s still holding. “To new beginnings, you dickhead!”

“Welcome home Braxton.”

*****

Twiddling his ballpoint pen between his fingers, Braxton lowers his gaze on the local newspaper in front of him. Jaw tickling as he’s trying not to direct his frustration at the mother beside his table—whose daughter can’t stop whining because she didn’t get the chocolate chip muffin she’s se desperately craving—he resumes his reading, circling in a dép shade of red the houses that seem decent enough.

And there isn’t a lot, strangely, considering the fact that he’s in Los Angeles.

He’s pulled from his thoughts of the horrifying and non successful house search by someone calling out his name and he looks up to see a joyful Batista holding a plain iced coffee. Relief. Smiling back a bet like she’s the savior of the day, the man rushes to the front to grab the cup and makes an escape outside, not wanting to hear another minute of the little girl’s tantrum.

Sighing, he shoves the one and the newspaper in his backpack as best as he can while holding his iced coffee. “I fucking hate kids.”

Braxton shuffles through the back pocket of his pants until his fingers touch a cool metal box. He pulls it out of the soft material and flicks the cap—thumb runs itself down the side of the lighter—a small flame explodes from the top. The smell instantly dances around him, the scent of thick smog enveloping his every sense. Like a puzzle piece, the cigarette seems to fit perfectly between his thin fingers, like two old friends reconnecting, making up for lost time. The man touches it to hula lips, letting the art flow into his breath—his breathing grows relaxed—with every inhale follows an exhale of wondrous patterns. His eyes close with ease and he continues to breathe in the silence.

He can’t remember the last time he was able to just take a walk around the block and enjoy the rays of sunlight hitting in face.

“Ah, there you are, city boy!” Buck appears out of nowhere, a brown paper bag tucked under his right arm. “I told you I would be your knight in shining armor.. even got the weapon.”

“What’s in the bag, loser?” Another exhale, the smoke finding its way with the wind.

“Kinda ironic that you’re about to save lives, put out fires and what not, and yet you’re smoking. Is it even legal for a firefighter? Anyways, I bought some pastries from that shop a few streets away. I swear they're the best.” Evan seems too excited, matching the energy of a golden retriever. “How’s house hunting going by the way?”

Braxton pouts, dropping his head. “There’s nothing. At least nothing that’s close enough to the station and fits my criteria.”

“Knowing you city boy, you might want to lower your expectations. But it might change real soon. How about you come with me, there’s places we need to go and a special someone you need to meet.” And Evan doesn’t bother waiting for his friend as he turns on his heels, whistling a familiar melody.

“What the fuck you mean by lowering my expectations? I’m not looking into buying a mansion. I’m simply asking for something located in a nice area that’s close enough to the station so I don't have to be stuck in traffic every damn time I gotta go to work.”

*****

Braxton’s a grown man, for god’s sake. He dealt with misogynist assholes on a daily basis for five years and was the proprietor of one of the biggest corporations in North America. And yet here he is, standing in front of the fire station 118 with sweaty palms, a heart rate running a mile and an uncomfortable feeling sterling deep in his guts.

“You can do this, motherfucker. You’ve been training for this shit show for twenty months.”

The show must go on, as they say. But Braxton can’t seem to move, feet glued to the sidewalk.

Tightening his hand on the strap of his shoulder bag, Braxton tries not to let the anxiety win over his entire being, even if it feels like it already did. The newly recruited firefighter closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm the pounding of his heart against his ribcage.

“You got this Braxton.”

“You look like a lost deer that’s just been thrown into the lion’s den. You must be the new probie. Name’s Howard Han, or Howie. But everyone around here’s calling me Chimney.”

Chimney, what an interesting name, he thinks.

“Oh, umm—names Braxton Kingsley. Pleasure to meet you Howie.” Both men shake hands, Braxton’s nerves instantly calming at the sight of the reassuring smile Howard’s giving him. A silent I know how it is, I was in your shoes once too. Everything’s gonna be fine. “Alright probie, how about you stop looking and actually walk in so I can introduce you to the team.” Howie’s walking back inside the station, hands in his pockets and laughing loudly.

Braxton gathers all the courage that’s left in him and follows the shorter man. “Bobby, probie’s here!”

He definitely feels like a five years old kid on his first day at kindergarten, looking everywhere and not knowing where to look at the same time. Braxton’s inspecting the trucks and their vibrant red colors, the second floor where everyone gathered to welcome him properly, the gym area he can’t wait to use and the lockers room. He’s amazed by all of it.

“I’m Bobby Nash. Welcome to 118, Braxton.”

#911 on abc #athena grant #bobby nash #chimney han #eddie diaz #evan buckley #gay men #station 118 #tommy kinard #tommy kinard x original male character

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farfromstrange · 10 months

Text

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 20: You Showed Me Colors You Know I Can’t See With Anyone Else

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: You tell Michael about the conversation with Birdy and deal with the aftermath.

Warnings: ANGST, this chapter hints at PTSD and mental health, Smut (18+), slight cockwarming, not proof read

Word Count: ~5.5k

A/n: I was waiting for the right moment to write smut again, and I thought why not now? There will never be a perfect time. But the angst train is also still very much in the station. Sorry for the long wait. Enjoy! (Or don’t)

(this gif does some things to me. holy mother of jesus i can’t even-)

Michael is still asleep when you walk back into the bedroom with the coffee and the bag carrying what you can now tell are the café’s best scones.

Your thoughts are scrambled. You can’t sort them. You want to stay positive because that’s the kind of person you taught yourself to be. Misplaced hope is better than no hope at all.

You force yourself not to think too much, but that is a near impossibility in your current state. There is too much going on inside of you, holding it all back will only drain you, and that not even in the long run but as soon as you set foot out of the door.

There’s a reason you put down the pessimism a long time ago, but the reality of your situation seeps in and destroys it. It destroys everything good you’ve built for yourself; now you’re just confused and maybe a little angry, but mostly the former. Your mind has always been your worst enemy.

You place the food and the coffee down on the nightstand and turn to Michael. He doesn’t seem to notice you. He’s either too exhausted to dream, or he did the same as you and pushed all the bad thoughts away to rest a little easier. He’s out cold.

You run a hand through his unruly hair. “Mikey,” you murmur.

He stirs under your touch, his eyes fluttering. It takes him a few seconds to wake up and take in his surroundings, his face contorting in a sense of panic before his eyes fall on you, and he relaxes visibly.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles.

You greet him with a soft smile. “Hey.”

He ruffles his hair. “Wha time is it?”

“Just a little after seven,” you answer.

“Oh.” Michael looks around. He notices you sitting on the edge of the bed instead of lying next to him, and he frowns. “Why’d ya get up then?” he asks.

“Couldn’t sleep,” it’s not a complete lie, but he can tell you’re holding back.

He purses his lips, clearly not happy with you falling back into old patterns, but he can’t force you to talk.

You disguise your feelings as something they often are not, mostly because growing up, you had to play an act at the circus that was your family, and you taught yourself to be kind, to smile and wave, to never disobey and to never question, so you disguised who you truly were and what you truly felt with a layer of pretense. You weren’t allowed to speak up or talk about your struggles, and you took that belief with you into adulthood. And although you know now that feeling and sharing those feelings isn’t a bad thing, you come with a built-in defense mechanism that grew during childhood and that can only be removed fully if someone reconstructs you and flicks the switch completely. It’s a complicated task a normal person can’t achieve; you would need help for that, help Michael alone can’t provide you because he, too, struggles with built-in mechanisms of his own that never had a chance of dismembering themselves.

When you escaped home, the circus ended, but you made it a habit to please everyone, to just get them to see you as something more than this godforsaken mess that you grew up to be deep inside, and you can’t deny that it feels like you’re nothing more than a clown most of the time. You’re walking the tightrope so close to the edge, you could fall any minute, but at least you tried. It’s always been just you trying your hardest, but it never felt like it was enough before, and it surely doesn’t feel like it now. It’s a losing game.

You can shine for Michael all you want, but he can see the darkness inside of you. He accepts it. He embraces it. He wants to love you regardless, you just don’t know how to let him.

Your lips turn down. He sees right through you. Wordlessly, he reads you like an open book and his eyes bore through your soul like piercing daggers. He takes you apart and puts you back together all at once, trying to show you that he cares and you don’t have to be afraid around him, but it’s not that easy, is it? It can’t be.

You can’t hide the truth from him forever, and you don’t want to. You physically can’t. It’s exhausting. You’re overwhelmed. You need someone to lean on or the storm will drag you under and drown you in an ocean of endless despair. You tried keeping everything far away from him before and it didn’t work. He assured you he would never judge you, so why are you holding back? Old habits die hard, but you have to learn to beat them before they kill you.

You crawl back under the blanket and place your head on his chest. “I had a nightmare,” you admit quietly.

He nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and wraps his arms around you. “‘Bout what?” he asks.

He still holds you, even though you are a million shattered pieces of broken glass and he could easily cut himself. But if being there for you makes him bleed, he would gladly bleed out for you.

You shrug. “You died.”

His hand strokes through your hair. “But I’m here,” he tells you. “I’m alive.”

“I know, it’s just…” Your wide eyes focus on the wall across from you. “I’m so scared.”

There it is. The three words he had been waiting for.

“Fear’s human, love. Nightmares are human, but they’re not real. They’re just dreams. And fears are just yer body tryin’ ta protect itself from danger, but that doesn’t mean ya have to face it alone, y’know?”

You wonder if he used to tell his daughter the same when she was little. It sounds like something he has said many times before, maybe even to convince himself. You’re not sure, but you appreciate it.

“But you died,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I couldn’t save you.” Your lip quivers. “It was my fault you died because he said–he told me to stay away from my sister and I didn’t listen, and then you died. To save me. ‘Cause you said you’d always protect me and you jumped in front of the gun for me and…and you died.”

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up, “I’m here. I’m alright.”

But it’s not as easy as he makes it out to be, you both know it.

“You were shot at last night, Michael!” Your voice holds a lot of force with its honesty. “What if you hadn’t been alright? What if you’d died?” you say. “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I know I’m the last person who gets to say that after the shit I put you through, but it’s true. I’m selfish. I know I’m selfish because I want you alive for me, but it’s better than not having you at all.”

His brown eyes slip from yours and he looks away. He can’t face you. The truth hurts, and you have a way of hitting the knife right where he doesn’t want it. Now he knows what it feels like when he reads you so openly.

You let out a shaky breath. “I feel so bad because Jamie died and he was your son, but you also could have died and I can’t bear the thought of that. So forgive me for being scared of losing you. Forgive me for being glad you’re alive, but for being afraid of something like last night happening again and this time, it won’t be someone else!” Your voice breaks.

He only holds you tighter, your broken edges tearing deeper holes into the parts of his soul that had been barely hanging on by a thread; and now Michael’s falling apart completely, too.

“Shh, I know,” he whispers.

You shake your head. You begin to think he doesn’t know because he doesn’t value his life as much as you do, and that hurts. Physically and mentally, it’s scarring to love someone who is so prepared to die.

But it’s the same with you, isn’t it? You would die for the people you love too, with no hesitation, and that’s what makes you so eerily similar. Pretending to be a good girl is one thing, but showing your true colors in every version there is to someone just as damaged as you holds a different kind of depth that already feels painful again, while at the same time being the only thing you could ever need. You need him.

“People die,” you whisper. “This is your life, I know, but it scares me…It shouldn’t be like this.”

You’re crying without actually crying, and it hurts even more than being able to let it all out. Your body restricts you. It’s a dry sob that burns through your throat and chest, and your soul suffers in the process.

Michael is silent for a moment as you bury your face in his chest. The sound of your dry sobs shakes him to his core.

It’s his turn to take a deep breath. “Even though I told ya this is the kinda life I was born into and shit like this can happen, I didn’t anticipate this,” he says, his voice breathy and barely audible. “I distanced myself. I tried t’keep the people I love safe. I focused on other things. I tried…but it still happened. And I couldn’t even protect my own son.”

You close your eyes in agony. “It’s not fair that you have to live like this,” you say.

“It’s not, you’re right. None of this is fuckin’ fair to anybody, but they’re my family.”

“This isn’t about family–”

He cuts you off, “I’ve been a target before. I’m used to it. But Jamie…he never did anythin’ wrong. He was innocent,” he says. “And I can’t reassure ya that it won’t happen again ‘cause it will. I know it, my brother knows it, everyone in this family knows it. And that’s wha makes this so fucked right now. We don’t know what’s goin’ on, but we know the risk.”

You shake your head. “That’s not fucking okay,” you snap.

He doesn’t snap back, he simply shushed you again. “I know,” he says. “Jamie was unfortunate enough t’be there with me last night, but he wasn’t the target. That’s why it hurts so much. It might have been Eric or me or someone else, but yer right. People die.”

“Children die. No one should have to accept shit like this to be the norm.”

His jaw tightens.

“This is so fucking unfair,” you hiss under your breath. “Why is it so unfair?”

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” he answers, tears of his own building up in his eyes now, “but I can’t tell ya what you wanna hear from me. It’d be a lie.”

“I don’t wanna hear anything from you other than that you’ll be okay,” you shoot back with a sniffle that breaks his heart.

He looks down, the honesty breaking your own heart in the process. “I can’t tell you tha and you know it.”

His words hang heavy in the air. You take a deep breath, but it shudders in your chest and gets trapped in your lungs. You try to block out the truth, but the truth is a cruel bastard. It manifests.

Eventually, you break the silence. “You’re shitty at comforting me today,” you say, but you’re not serious, not really. He told you the truth, which is what you needed, and you appreciate it.

It still sucks though because it doesn’t make you feel much better.

“I know,” he says, regret lacing his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I wanna keep ya safe, I do. And I wanna make sure your father never lays a hand on you again. I’ll kill him myself if I have ta, and I wanna make sure ya get to fight for your sister. I need to protect Anna and you. Neither of you deserve t’be a part of any o’ this,” he says, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “You’re my priority, but what happened last night is gonna have consequences and things are gonna get messy, even though I don’t want ‘em to. It’s dangerous, and I can’t tell ya how things are gonna work out because I don’t know.”

You nod, your eyes still closed. His fingers trail up your spine. This is why you fell in love with him, and there’s not even a proper word for it. He’s the man you’ve been looking for without ever knowing what you were looking for.

You slowly lift your head to look at him. “This is your life,” you say, “and I wanna be a part of your life. I just…I can’t lose someone I love again. I can’t lose you, and it terrifies me that I might.”

You don’t care that he killed people or that his family deals drugs and regularly hurts others for a living. You thought you would care, but you love this man with all of your heart, and if you know one thing it’s that Michael Kinsella is not a bad person. He fights for those he loves. It’s not his fault he was born into this family, or that he is still loyal to them. You know he’s trying to be better for his daughter, but you can’t change the fact that he’s a Kinsella, and you no longer want to.

You don’t have to like his family, you only need to love him, and he deserves it more than anyone to have someone by his side now.

Your life is a mess too, and he’s there for you because he sees something in you that’s worth fighting for. He loves you. He wants to protect you from the demons of your past, and you bring your fair share of dangers into this relationship, so perhaps he is the only man who could ever truly understand. And you don’t want to fight alone anymore, either. You can’t.

Fate put you in each other’s paths for a reason, now you have to somehow deal with your lives crossing and find a way out of the woods to maybe have somewhat of a happy ending one day where everyone you care about and love is safe and taken care of, and you have both dealt with your respective grievances.

Michael cups your cheek. “You are my life,” he says. “Gives me a reason to live for.”

“But what if you die?” you ask.

“I won’t.”

“But you can’t promise me that, can you?”

He shakes his head. “Trust me,” he says. “We’ll make it through this. Just promise me ya’ll stay. No matter how hard things get...just stay, please.”

You don’t have to think twice. “Always,” you answer without missing a beat.

“I love ya,” he says.

“I love you too,” you echo. You reach out and intertwine your fingers with his. “Always, right?”

He nods, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Always,” he says.

You lean forward to capture his lips in a kiss. His grip tightens and he draws you closer. His hands remain close to your body, grabbing every last inch of skin they can reach, and you melt.

“You taste like smoke,” he pants between kisses.

You bite down on his bottom lip, making him groan into your mouth. “Had a cigarette,” you say, but it’s nowhere near a confession. You don’t owe him an explanation. “Is that a problem?”

He shakes his head. “Just surprised me, is all,” he says.

You force your tongue into his mouth. At first, he fights back, but he eventually lets you take control of the kiss. It’s the first time you do so.

Struggling for breath, you both reluctantly pull away from each other. His lips move to your forehead, your hand still holding onto his. The comfortable silence between you wraps around you like a blanket.

Michael is the first one to break the serenity, but only because he catches the familiar scent of coffee and scones in the air. His eyes fall on the bag on the bedside table. “Did ya go t’work just for breakfast?” he asks.

You completely forgot about Birdy’s surprise visit, and all the calm he infused you with disappears. You’re nervous about telling him the truth, but he would see right through you if you chose to lie.

You sit up, grab one of the coffee cups, and hand it to him. “No,” you say, “Birdy…Uh, she came by earlier.”

Michael’s wide awake within seconds, sitting up against the headboard. His hazel eyes trail over you, taking in each sign of discomfort and the fear in your eyes that doesn’t just come from the nerves that threaten to consume you, and it’s not just anxiety or trauma. When you say Birdy’s name, there is a slight shift in your demeanor, and he picks up on that.

“She’s nice, by the way,” you try to talk yourself out of it. “She…she brought this for you. Well, for us, but mostly for you because she wanted to check up on you. She said she came to pick you up at the station last night, but I was there and she figured you’d be in good hands, and you were, right? You still are. I guess she just wanted to do a wellness check this morning.”

His eyes darken a little and he reaches out to grasp your hand again. “Birdy came here?” he asks to clarify.

You nod, nursing your cup of coffee. She surprisingly chose the right kind, and your heart beats twice as fast again. You shudder.

A million thoughts run through your head, and you think back to the strange customer that threatened you a while back; you want to puke, but you haven’t eaten so that would be counterproductive. Your stomach is just as upset as your mental state, which never ends well for you. You need to calm your breathing before it’s too late.

“She knocked and I let her in because she asked nicely and she didn’t seem like a threat to me,” you say, almost as if you’re defending yourself. “She knew my name, but I didn’t think it’d be that serious.”

“Yeah, I told her ‘bout ya, but–” Michael looks at the logo on the coffee cup, the blue butterfly appearing all too familiar. He swallows. “I never told her where I work now,” he says. “Damn it!” Running a hand over his face, he sighs. “Did she ask you anythin’?”

You bite your lip guiltily. “Well, yeah…Isn’t that what family does?”

“I need to know what she said to ya. What did she ask?”

“Well, um…Nothing too detailed. I mean, you know I don’t like talking about details. I…She asked some things about me and the job when I saw the logo on the bag. I told her about the Butterfly Effect, how long I’ve been working there, and stuff like that. But that’s it, I promise!”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I–”

“Tell me.”

You flinch a little at his tone. “I didn’t tell her any details about my life or–or anything about my family. Or about you,” you insist. “I just said you were resting and you needed time, and that I’d tell you that she came by so you could tell her how you are yourself. She told me you guys have to support each other now, a-and she mentioned Jimmy. Especially him. I don't know, it was weird, and I found it even weirder that she knew about the café. For a moment, I thought she was trying to pry, but she left when she noticed I was uncomfortable. She was nice to me, Michael,” you say. “And she brought breakfast. That’s not an evil act, right?”

Who are you trying to convince now, you wonder. Not him, surely. It’s more like you trying to tell yourself that you didn’t make a mistake when he clearly thinks it was, and you’re not sure who you’re supposed to trust in this case. You can’t trust your own judgment, that’s for sure. You have a horrible dating history to account for it.

“Jesus,” Michael curses under his breath. “Why–How could you be so foolish?”

His words strike you hard. “I thought she was just trying to be kind,” your voice sounds higher now, and your eyes are wider than usual. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

All color has faded from your skin. The way you look at him reminds him of a deer once again, but this time a frightened one, and he stops himself.

Your lip quivers. “I’m sorry,” you repeat again, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought I was doing the right thing. But you told me to stay away from your family and I didn’t listen. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

You’re begging him even though he isn’t even mad at you, and that’s when he realizes that you misinterpreted his worry for something else.

Michael's expression softens as he watches the distress on your face. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, grabbing your chin. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad. I was just…worried. I’m sorry.”

“I wanted to be nice to her,” you say. “Because you said she was good and you cared about her.”

“I know, and Birdy isn’t…she isn’t evil,” he clarifies, “but she’s still a Kinsella and when she asks questions, she asks them to make sure you aren’t a threat. It’s nothin’ personal, she just wants t’keep this family safe. I thought…I thought she trusted me, but maybe I was wrong. I dunno. I’ll talk to her and make sure she keeps her nose out of any of yer business.”

You sniffle. “I’m still sorry.”

Michael glares at you in return, but it’s more of a gentle warning than meant in a threatening way. He assures you, “I've been tryin' to keep ya away from my family's business fer a reason, and I fear tha involvin' you in any way might put ya in danger, so I'll make sure it won't happen,” he says. “And I'll make sure your father won't catch wind of his 'til we can ensure Maya's safety, too.”

“I…” You meet his eyes. “I don’t deserve you,” you say.

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“No,” he lays back down and pulls you with him, “It’s not true.”

“How can you say that so confidently?” you retort.

“‘Cause you are worth everythin' to me. And you deserve so much better.” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face and traces his thumb along your cheek. “I've made mistakes in my life, and I've done things I'm not proud of, but you've seen the best in me,” he says. “Ya’ve brought out the goodness in my heart, and I'll spend the rest of my days showin' ya how much ya mean to me. That’s what you deserve and nothin’ short of that.”

Instead of answering, you force him down to your level and press your lips against his. He closes his eyes, pulling you into his lip, and you use the added space to press yourself closer to him. His hands continue traveling the path of your spine, eventually resting on your lower back.

You stay that way for a while, your lips moving lazily against each other. Time seems to stand still. You lose yourself in him, and you taste too good for him to keep a clear mind when you’re so close to him. You become one, and he makes sure you won’t go anywhere by keeping his hands locked to your hips.

Michael manages to bring the coffee cups to safety before he sits up against the headboard, pulling you with him. His tongue asks for permission and you open your mouth to him, allowing him to explore the depth of your mouth further as you search for leverage on his broad shoulders.

“What about breakfast?” you ask when his lips move to your neck, brushing over your pulse point.

“That’s not what I’m hungry for,” he says.

His hands slide up your sides underneath your shirt, his touch igniting a trail of fire on your skin. His lips find yours once again, capturing them in a passionate kiss that leaves you breathless. The taste of him lingers on your lips. You moan, involuntarily so.

“Can we…” He trails off, pulling away enough to meet your eyes. “I wanna forget. Just fer a few minutes.”

You lick your lips. There is nothing you want more. “It’s not gonna be just a few minutes though,” you murmur.

“I don’t care.”

If he doesn’t care, you can't find it in yourself to care either, so you cave. It doesn’t take much convincing for you to give yourself over to him and trust him fully. It’s human nature at this point.

He is so desperate, he doesn’t even waste time to take your shirt off. Michael slides it up enough to reveal your breasts, encapsulating one of your nipples with his wet lips, and you throw your head back.

Usually, his movements are calculated, but this morning, he’s following instinct. The boxers you borrowed join his shirt on the floor, and you help his aching cock out of his underwear. Giving him a few good pumps, you spit into your hand to add some more lube. Sucking your nipples isn’t much foreplay, but he does it well enough to get you worked up.

He pulls you down in one swift motion and you let out a collective gasp. Your hand finds the headboard. You shouldn’t be doing this, but here you are, and you don’t intend on stopping.

Michael moans into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you. He’s silently asking for you to take the lead, and how can you deny him this much-needed release?

You straighten your back and begin to move your hips slowly. His cock is hard, thick, and achingly buried between your velvety walls. Your breaths soon turn into little whimpers before transcending into a crescendo of moans.

Your hearts start beating in sync, and your connection deepens with every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise. You move your hips in a rhythm of your choosing, and he goes along with it, occasionally helping out when you get tired, and you can't help but succumb to the power of pleasure that is dragging you down.

As you lose yourselves in each other, the world is reduced to the rhythm of your bodies.

You circle your hips, chasing your high by chasing the sweet spot inside of you. The head of his cock bumps against it, and you moan. You continue moving just like that.

He presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, licking the salty skin over your shoulder blade, and he sucks a deep purple mark in the same place the last hickey has disappeared from.

You run your fingers through his hair. He rests his forehead against your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter.

“Michael,” you breathe.

He whispers your name back. He’s somewhere else, sweat running down his back, and the sweetest sounds come out of his mouth. He’s a mess underneath you, but he looks even more beautiful like this.

“I love you,” you tell him. “So much.”

His cock brushes against your G-spot, your clit bumping against his pelvis over and over again, and the pleasure mixes with the conflicted pain in your soul. It’s a lot. You love him so much, it’s overwhelming, and knowing about the danger you might be in makes it even worse, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It’s your body that makes all the decisions for you right now, not your mind. Your heart is screaming for more, and you give it what it wants.

Michael grabs the back of your head and pulls you in for a searing kiss. You grab his face to pull him impossibly closer.

“I love ya too,” he tells you.

You lift your arms so he can take your shirt off. It’s getting hotter and therefore harder to breathe.

Happy with the new playground, he leans in to suck one of your nipples back into his mouth. His hand rests on the other, making sure it won’t feel neglected. He pushes all your buttons at once, eliciting moan after moan from you. It’s like you were never apart.

Sex between you has flowed effortlessly from the start, and it’s no different now. Maybe it’s because Michael knows exactly what to do, or maybe you’re just so in sync that it works; either way, you have never felt this much pleasure even from a sloppy fuck as this one, and you still manage to find it in yourselves to tell each other how much you love each other because this is not just sex, this is more. It always is more when it comes to you. You need to forget, but that’s not all. This is more than desperation. This is love.

You dig your nails into his back when he hits the sweet spot inside of you again with his cock, and the wave crashes into you almost unexpectedly. You were too focused on the way his body feels against yours that you ignored the pleasure completely.

You throw your head back. When you come, the room fills with the call of his name, followed by a string of curses and your name, and then, silence.

You remain in his arms, his cock still buried deep inside of you, his cum staining not only your insides but your thighs as well, but you’re finally close again, and you don’t want him to be anywhere else but where he is now.

Sweat stains your temple. Michael wipes it away with his thumb, caressing your face as he looks at you, his cheeks flushed. He always looks so good after sex.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. This is where you want and need to be. You’re alive with him. Without him, there is no you anymore.

He woke up the person that had been asleep inside of you for so long. You found yourself, and in his arms, you can be the person you should be without fearing judgment. You can just be yourself, no questions asks. He accepts and loves you unconditionally. He worships your body like a goddess, and he’s kneeling at the altar of your love.

He takes a shaky breath. “I hope I didn’t imagine that ya just came,” he says.

Your face contorts into a smile. “Trust me,” you say, “you weren’t imagining anything.”

“Good,” Michael pulls you closer, “‘cause I don’t wanna be selfish.”

“Don’t worry about me. With you, I always come.”

“Only with me, huh?” He raises his eyebrows. “No one ever made ya come before?”

You meet his eyes, your blush deepening. “I...I've never felt this way with anyone else in general. Not just with orgasms, although you win those,” you admit softly. “You just have a way of making me feel things I never thought possible, you know? It's like you have this innate understanding of my mind, body and soul. It's...it's crazy,” you bite your lip, “but, like, in a good way.”

His hand is on your arm, stroking the sensitive skin there the same way his thumb caresses your cheek, and it manages to leave goosebumps in its wake. “Yer not alone in tha, love,” he says. “You've opened up a whole new world for me too. Everything about you drives me wild. You have a spell on me, I think.” He leans in to press a tender kiss against your lips. “Witch.”

You snort. “Hey!”

He playfully bites your bottom lip. “I’m jokin’. It’s not just physical,” Michael continues, his fingers continuing to stroke your arm. “It's the way we understand each other. It's the way ya make me feel alive...like I'm truly seen and accepted for who I am. I've been so lost, but…now I feel a little less like that,” he says.

Your eyes flutter closed. He’s everywhere, all over you, and it’s hard to think straight. “Yeah, me too,” you respond, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not much makes sense lately…”

“But you have me.”

“Yeah,” he nuzzles his nose against yours, “I do.”

You smile, your eyes still closed. You don’t need to see him, you only need to feel him close. “You should ask for a few days off to deal with things,” you say, changing the subject in a different way.

His nose rubs against yours again. “Yeah, maybe.”

“And I’m gonna stay with you for a few days to make sure you’re okay.”

“Sounds good t’me.”

“But I have work today,” you add. “Late shift.”

He sighs, cradling your head in the crook of his neck. It’s an intimate hug in the position you’re in, but you can feel his heart pounding from his chest to yours. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, does it?” he says.

You shake your head. You don’t want to leave him, but as he said, money doesn’t grow on trees and you can’t lose your job.

Your breath fans hotly across his shoulder, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He holds you tighter. “There’s no reason ya’d have to.”

You can feel him against your temple when he presses a kiss right on the scar he found the night before. You shiver slightly, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Even looking at it seemed terrifying before; his kiss works like a bandaid, keeping the memories from spilling out through the broken skin.

“I don’t want ya to lose your job ‘cause o’ me,” Michael says. “We’ll figure it out.”

You nod against his shoulder. It’s not easy juggling the demands of work and personal life, especially in times of crisis. You’re tired, mentally and physically drained, and you might as well be on the verge of slipping into depression, but that doesn’t stop life from happening.

You have to suck it up for today. Maybe you can talk to Ava about using your remaining overtime to take a day or two off to deal with stuff, but you know shit is going to hit the fan even more soon, it always does, and you’ll need even more time then. You need a whole year off to just focus on yourself, but that’s not possible. So you have to learn how to live with it. You lived in delusion before, you just have to find a way to return to this pretentious picture of a perfect life for a few hours.

You’re determined to find a way to support Michael, and he’s determined to find a way to support and protect you. You know he will, so you’re a little less scared. Even the thing with Birdy seems like something he has under control. He’ll take care of it.

One thing he can’t take away though are the demons and the memories, and that’s what keeps your mind occupied.

It’s the same you told Anthony; it hurts, and when something hurts, cigarettes and alcohol only offer a momentary relief. That’s why they’re so addictive. Your love for tequila is a dangerous game you’re playing.

You’re thinking too much and it’s starting to show.

Michael brushes the hair out of your face. “Hey, I’ll be okay,” he tells you, his voice gentle yet firm. “You take care of yourself and do what ya need t’do. I can fend for myself. We’ll have plenty of time together once yer done with work. I have things to take care of myself that can’t wait.”

You partly know what he means by that. So, you nod. You take a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in your body by rolling your shoulders, and you remember his cock is still buried deep inside of you.

You blush, a little flustered now. “Thank you,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, not phased in the slightest that your walls are still hugging him, keeping him warm. “Always,” he says.

With a final kiss, you reluctantly pull off of him and begin to prepare for the day ahead. As you leave the room, you take comfort in the knowledge that no matter the challenges you face, you have each other’s unwavering support. And that, in itself, gives you the strength to carry on.

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella x female reader #kin amc #michael kinsella angst #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella smut #charlie cox #chaos theory #reader insert #no y/n

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agereoneshots · 6 months

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Emmet sat silently in his office at the train station. He was very, very, very little. Usually when he was little at work, he would get Ingo's attention so he could take care of him or call someone to take him home but he couldn't do that this time. Ingo was missing. Emmet looked at his phone sitting next to him. He could call someone, maybe Elesa or Clay, but he felt so little he could barely talk. He whined. One of the other subway employees walked in.

"Emmet, there's a challenger for you." Emmet nodded and hoped he could get through this. He couldn't. He forfeited before running off. He hid somewhere and fumbled with his phone until he was calling Clay.

"Emmet? What's going on?" Clay asked. Emmet wanted to explain that he was little but couldn't so he just whined.

"Not talking? That's ok. Can you turn your camera on?" Emmet did as he asked. Once the camera was on, Emmet tried to put his thumb in his mouth.

"Oh, don't do that baby. At least take your glove off." Clay chatized. Emmet pouted.

"Can you show me where you are?" Emmet turned his phone to things that he thought could identify where he was.

"Ok baby. Can you wait there for me?" Emmet turned the phone back towards him and nodded.

"Do you want to stay on call with me or are you ok with me hanging up?" Emmet whined, he didn't want to be alone!

"Ok, ok. I'll only hang up if I have to. I'll be there as soon as I can." Clay reassured him. Emmet nodded and waited. He watched as Clay made his way through the subways to him. Suddenly, the call ended. Emmet whined. He felt so, so, so alone. Emmet hated being alone! Emmet began to cry and was still crying when Clay found him.

"Hey, hey. No more tears, ok?" Clay got him to stand up. Emmet made the unovian sign for 'alone'.

"I'm sorry baby, I know. My phone died." Emmet sighed 'home' in response.

"You wanna go home? Let's get you home." Clay held his hand and led him to the train. Clay continued to lead the way until they got to Emmet's home. Clay looked around before giving Emmet a black pacifier with "baby litwick" on the handle. Emmet whined and made a sign that was a combination of 'black' and 'brother', Emmet's sign for Ingo.

"I know, I know. This is Ingo's paci but your paci went missin' with him." Clay popped the pacifier into Emmet's mouth. Emmet held his hand up, ready to be taken to bed.

"It's not bedtime yet tyke. Gotta get you changed." Clay picked up Emmet and took him into the bedroom. Clay looked at Emmet's onesies. He had a white one but he only wanted to wear it if Ingo had his black onesie on so that was a no, he had a joltik one that he loved to wear while playing but it was clear he wanted to sleep, then there was his tynamo onesie that was perfect for naps. Bingo. Clay pulled it out and showed it to Emmet. Emmet nodded. Clay helped him out of his uniform.

"Do you want a diaper?" Clay asked. Emmet didn't need one and was 50/50 whether he wanted one so it was always good to ask. Emmet nodded. Clay taped one on him before putting the onesie on him. Clay tucked him in.

"Night, little'un."

#age regression #agere #fandom agere #pokemon #pokemon emmet #pokemon clay #pokemon elesa #pokemon ingo #padded

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screechthemighty · 2 months

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Speaking of mentor figures, how about grieving the loss of one? Bit of a short update, but hey, an update's an update. AO3 link will be in a reblog, but here's the full chapter!

crash and burn (and then return again) | a titanfall 2 fanfic part three

The next day brought paperwork.

So, so much paperwork.

His recounting of Typhon could be given entirely in writing since he still struggled with being verbal. Writing it down was hard, but even the thought of giving a verbal interview, of having to actually talk about what he’d gone through, exhausted him. In writing, he could be concise, dispassionate, pretend it happened to some other poor SOB named Jack and he was just recounting it.

It didn’t really work that way, but at least he ended up crying in private and not on camera.

After the paperwork, it was time for another exam. The medic remembered him from last time and kept the AAC tablet out in case he needed it, which he appreciated. Fortunately, he was able to work his way up from one-word answers to short sentences as the exam went on.

Physically, he needed rest and to eat well. Psychologically, there were people he could speak to planet side that would help him out with this “difficult period.” He was given leave papers and a referral to a therapist who had experience working with autistic clients. “I’m not sure how much time you’ll be able to take, but take as much as you can,” the doctor said. “I’ve seen too many pilots burn out from overwork, and you’ve been through something unique.”

Not that unique after Broadsword, Cooper thought, but didn’t say. That was a bit too much for him to get out of his mouth at the moment, and at any rate, it felt a little too dark. You got used to gallows humor when you were in the military, but…

No, it was too soon to comment on either situation.

Cooper was walking from the med bay and debating whether he should risk getting food or just go back to sleep when Sarah Briggs rounded the corner. “Cooper, there you are,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

Bad was the first word that came to mind, but he shoved it back quickly. “Physically fit, ma’am,” he said instead.

“Glad to hear it. Did they get you set up with leave papers?” Cooper showed them to her, but kept the psych referral tucked in the back. “That’s good. Any family on Harmony?”

Cooper shook his head. All his family were still on Persephone, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face the whole gaggle of his cousins, anyway. “I might.” Cooper paused to fully form the sentence in his head. “Someone I know might be stationed there. She’s with logistics.”

“She’ll probably be there, then. You’re more than welcome to visit. I know the head of R&D wants a word once you’re planet side. And…” Briggs hesitated. “Cassie…Captain Lastimosa’s niece, I don’t know if you knew about her…she may not know yet.”

Cooper’s chest ached. He did know about Cassie. Lastimosa had talked about her more than once. He was a little surprised that she didn’t know by now, but maybe they wanted to tell her in person. “She’ll probably have questions,” Briggs continued. “I don’t know if you’ll be up for it, but…”

“I’ll talk to her,” Cooper said. It would hurt, but… “She should hear it from me.” He’d been there when Lastimosa died. Stepped into his gear, his Titan, his mission. It was only right that she got the whole story from him.

Briggs nodded. “That’s kind of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Appreciate probably wasn’t the right word, but Cooper didn’t want to think about that right now. A new question was gnawing at him, demanding some kind of answer. “What happens to me after, ma’am?”

Briggs didn’t hesitate. “Like I said, you’ve more than earned your pilot’s certification. They’ll probably want to run you through all the entrance tests, just to check where you need additional training, but that’s it. You’re one of us now, Cooper, if you still want to be.”

If all that stuff about parallel timelines was true, there was a Jack Cooper who was overjoyed to be getting that news. A Jack Cooper who had earned his way in under less bloody circumstances and felt he had the right to celebrate. The Cooper he was, though, could only feel a hollow ache.

He would have given up his dream of becoming a pilot in a heartbeat if it meant Lastimosa and BT could live.

But it didn’t work that way, and backing out now felt like spitting on everything Lastimosa had ever done for him. So, Cooper nodded. “I do want that,” he said. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He had to be worthy of Lastimosa’s sacrifice now. Worthy of all the trust and belief the man had put in him.

Worthy of all the trust and belief BT had put in him, too.

No matter what it took.

#fic: crash and burn (and then return again)#titanfall #titanfall 2

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contreparry · 3 months

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Happy Friday! For DADWC, how about "stubbornly waiting for them before going to sleep"?

Here's some Alistair and Surana friendship from the corporate espionage AU for @dadrunkwriting!

It was raining and cold and awful, and Bran wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed. He'd have done so hours ago, as soon as the day turned to night, but someone had to watch over the simulations running on the computer and it was his turn to babysit the machine.

At least he hadn't taken to keeping a sleeping bag under the desk, unlike some members of his cohort. He was going to sleep in his own bed, and once another alchemy student stepped into the office to take over the long watch, Bran gathered his belongings and left, taking the stairs two steps at a time until he was walking through campus. It was still raining, a light drizzle that persisted throughout the day, and the concrete was slick and shining with water. Bran flung his hood over his head and kept his head down as he walked down the now familiar route to the train station.

The train ride back was uneventful. Bran pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window and watched as the lights in the tunnel flashed by in a blur. And when he reached his stop Bran dragged himself upright and half-stumbled out of the station and back into the cold and wet. Friday night and he was out at midnight by himself after staying shut in an office watching a computer all evening.

Pathetic. He had now lived in Amaranthine for two months and he hadn’t even gone to one bar or pub. His days were a blur of work and shuffling between the university, his apartment, and the bookstore. Bran sighed and clumsily unlocked his door and pushed it inwards, eager to get out of his wet clothes and into his bed.

The lights were on. Bran didn’t remember leaving the lights on when he left the apartment that morning. And something was playing on the television, which was definitely off when he left. Bran kicked his shoes off and cautiously crept out of the narrow entry and into his tiny living room, his exhaustion and curiosity overtaking his sense of self-preservation.

A familiar red-brown head rested on the padded armrest of Bran’s ragged second-hand sofa, and Bran released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. There were no shadowy figures lurking in his apartment, no demons or ghouls waiting to pounce upon him. It was just Alistair, his coworker at The Warden, his neighbor who lived down the hall, and his one friend in Amaranthine. Good, reliable Alistair- though how he got here was a mystery.

"Hey," Alistair said before letting out a long, loud yawn- like a lion, Bran thought, his mind as slow as molasses dripping from a spoon.

"Alistair," Bran replied.

"Wanted to return your spare key, but forgot you’d be late,” Alistair said easily. "But I figured I’d stay up and make sure you got back home safe. Got you dinner, it’s in the fridge.” Alistair slowly rose from the couch and stretched his arms above his head. The hem of his hooded sweatshirt rose up over the waistband of his gym shorts and revealed a sliver of tanned skin.

“Dinner?” Bran repeated, and Alistair shuffled over to him and patted his shoulder. His hand was heavy.

“Yeah. Sandwich. You can probably pop it in the oven, it’ll taste better that way,” Alistair advised, and he yawned again. “Anyways, I’m beat. Left the key on the counter, see you Monday?”

“Monday. Yes. See you,” Bran swayed slightly, and Alistair- who was already shoving his feet into a pair of ragged slip on sandals- hesitated.

“Maker’s Balls. You’re falling asleep on your feet,” he commented, and Bran felt Alistair’s hands on his shoulders. Bran blinked slowly, feeling drunk and far, far too tired to think of what to say. How did words even work? But he ought to say something, anything, to Alistair. He was being nice to him- returning his spare key, getting him dinner, waiting up- but he was so tired…

“Go to bed, okay?” Alistair said, his voice a comforting rumble in his ear.

“Mmmm,” Bran mumbled, and with Alistair’s hand on his back guiding him Bran shuffled his way down the hall to his bedroom. The moment his head hit the pillow he felt himself drifting to sleep, but Bran heard Alistair say something about locking the door and returning his spare key on Monday at work.

“Thanks,” Bran mumbled into his pillow, right before Alistair gently closed his bedroom door. The rain fell in heavy sheets outside, but Bran curled up in his bed and smiled. The world didn’t seem so cold or awful when you had a friend like Alistair at your side.

#my writing #da drunk writing circle

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tickly-trashcan · 2 years

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Photobooth Findings {Akira and Ryuji}

A/N: Hello hello, thank you for the request! No need to apologize for the last request, it was totally fine! I absolutely LOVE these two soso much and I practically fell out of my chair when i got this request hehe~ Ryuji and Akira have my whole heart and I’m actually playing through Persona 5 again since we got a new console (our old one broke T_T) so i get to see all of my kiddos again! Thank you again for the request and I hope you enjoy! (im so sorry but i didn’t proofread this bc i was so tired when i finished so i apologize for any mistakes!! im going to get better about proofreading eventually i promise!!!)

Summary: Ryuji and Akira are hanging out at the arcade, which is busier than they expected.

Word Count: 1.6k (under the cut)

“Yo, Akira!”

Akira turned, barely able to process who was running up to him when an arm was thrown around his shoulder, nearly knocking him over.

“Hey, Ryuji,” Akira said, a small smile growing on his face as Ryuji beamed at him. He pulled Akira closer, laughing.

“So we’re going to the arcade, right? The one in Shibuya,” Ryuji asked, turning his head and looking around. “Isn’t Ann coming too?”

“She said she had a gig. She won’t be able to make it.”

Ryuji stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. “Well, sucks to suck. Guess we’ll have to have twice as much fun to make up for it!”

Akira chuckled, nodding his head. Ryuji dragged him along, the two of them walking to the station nearby their school as Ryuji gabbed about the different arcade games he was dying to play.

“Oh, and can I sleep over tonight? It’s the weekend, so I figured I should ask,” Ryuji said as they stood at the station platform, waiting to board the train as it slowed in front of them. They hopped on as Akira hummed in contemplation.

“I think Sojiro should be spending time with Futaba tonight, so I think it’s probably okay,” Akira said, standing next to Ryuji as they held onto the train handles. Ryuji silently cheered as Akira chuckled.

“So we’ll play at the arcade, grab a burger at Big Bang Burger, then head back to your place! Think Sojiro has any snacks lying around the cafe?”

Akira shook his head. “Not unless you really like to snack on carrots. He has a bunch of those for his curry.”

Ryuji stuck out his tongue. “Bleh… Carrots are good when Sojiro puts them in his curry, but not straight up.”

The two of them continued to chat as the train departed to Shibuya, where they arrived shortly. The two of them hopped off and went out into Shibuya, where they immediately went for the arcade.

“Whoa! It’s busy today, huh?” Ryuji said as he looked around. Akira nodded.

“I guess it’s because it’s Friday,” Akira noted, scanning for any free game. There were people on practically every arcade game, as well as some people waiting to play as they watched, chanting and jeering at whoever was playing. Ryuji whistled as he pointed towards the back.

“Dance Dance Revolution doesn’t look too crowded.”

“Ryuji, you know I can’t dance.”

“But we’re Phantom Thieves! You’ve got the reflexes, at least!”

Akira shrugged as he was dragged towards the back of the arcade, where another pair was finishing up on the Dance Dance Revolution game. They stepped off with a groan after witnessing their score. Ryuji and Akira quickly took up their spot, put some coins in, and selected a song.

“I’ll start it on easy,” Ryuji said, shaking his hands and feet in preparation.

The two of them danced around, Akira struggling as Ryuji got into it. They finished the song, and their score leveled out at average because of Akira. He shrugged.

“I told you I can’t dance.”

“Let’s try again! We get more points on the harder difficulty, so let’s try that!”

Akira nodded hesitantly, but Ryuji was already loading up the game with more coins. The song started, and Ryuji danced around with ease once more, even adding a few extra moves as Akira struggled to keep up. Again, their score was average.

“Okay, Twinkletoes,” Akira panted. “Let’s – Let’s do a different game.”

Ryuji nodded, noting Akira’s exhaustion. “What else is available?”

The two of them walked around again, looking for any unoccupied games. They were out of luck and decided to try Dance Dance Revolution again, only to find that a group of kids had surrounded it. Ryuji groaned in frustration.

“Urgh! How are we supposed to play games when everyone is using them?”

Akira pointed towards the photobooth. “I suppose we could do a quick photo session.”

Ryuji raised his eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to do photobooths with a date or something?”

Akira laughed. “I guess… But it’s the only thing available right now. Might as well get a memory of the time the arcade was so crowded that we could only play two rounds of Dance Dance Revolution.”

Ryuji sighed, but agreed. They walked up to the photobooth, slipped a dollar into the machine, and entered.

Together they were a bit cramped in the small booth, but Ryuji was immediately fascinated by the filters.

“Dude, there’s so many options!”

They eventually settled on a cyberpunk-style filter and began to pose for the four photos.

They started with funny faces. Ryuji pulled his mouth open and stuck out his tongue while Akira put his thumbs by his ears and showed off his teeth. They laughed for a minute after the camera flashed, then decided for a more serious one. They went back to back and made pretend pistols out of their hands like they were secret agents. The camera flashed again, then Ryuji laughed.

“We should do a model one like Ann!”

Akira choked on a laugh as they made model faces and held their faces in their hands. They cracked up as soon as the camera flashed, though they were already snickering before. For the last one, Akira suggested one.

“Have you ever watched Lion King?”

“Duh!”

“Pretend you’re Simba for this next one,” Akira said, grinning. Ryuji scoffed.

“Why am I Simba??”

“Because you’re blonde!”

Ryuji couldn’t argue with that. He stretched his arms out a bit and Akira started the timer for the photo. He stuck his hands under Ryuji’s arms just as the timer went off, but Ryuji screeched as the camera flashed. They both jumped, and Ryuji fell backwards onto Akira. Akira burst out laughing, shoving Ryuji off of him.

“What was that?” He cackled, waiting as the photobooth printed their strip.

“You tickled me, dude!”

Akira blinked. “Wait, you’re ticklish?!”

Ryuji stared at Akira, shaking his head. “No, no I’m not–”

“But you literally just said–”

“I’m not!!”

Akira grabbed Ryuji’s hips, making him shriek and jump. “You sure?”

“Yehehes! Very sure!” Ryuji snickered nervously, watching as Akira slowly began to wiggle his fingers. He squealed, curling up as Akira pinched at his hips. He tried to push him away, but Akira was persistent, tickling him playfully as Ryuji flailed around in the tiny booth.

“AHAhahakira! Nohoho, stahahap! Not thahahat, pleheheaseee!”

The photobooth spit out the strip of photos, but the pair didn’t even notice as Ryuji cackled, Akira’s hands traveling up his sides and towards his ribs.

“GAH–! Akira, I’m seheheherious! Oh gohohod, nohOHO!”

“Are you done in there?!” Someone called from outside the booth, having to shout to be heard over Ryuji. Akira halted, realized they had been in there much longer than they meant to, and pulled his hands away. He chuckled awkwardly as Ryuji caught his breath, leaning on him.

“Dude, look at the pics,” Ryuji said after catching his breath. His laughter renewed as he looked at how ridiculous the pictures were, especially the last one.

Ryuji was blurred and Akira looked terrified behind him. It hadn’t turned out at all how they expected, but ended up being the funniest one.

They quickly scooped up the photo and left the booth, and a group of girls entered quickly after them.

The two of them got some burgers at Big Bang Burger, which they could hardly finish. They went back on the train back to Leblanc, Ryuji dozing off on the train as the two of them sat next to each other. Ryuji used his bag as a pillow on Akira’s shoulder, who was scrolling on his phone until they reached their stop.

“Man, I’m wiped!” Ryuji said, stretching as he yawned. Akira grinned and poked his stomach, making him jump and gasp as Akira laughed.

“Couldn’t help it.”

Ryuji grumbled and the two of them eventually settled down in Akira’s room. Ryuji laid on a sleeping bag on the floor while Akira laid on his bed a bit above. “Do you still have the photos?”

Akira nodded, fishing into his bag next to his bed and then handing them to Ryuji. Ryuji chuckled softly again, glancing at Akira.

“You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish too, would you?”

Akira shrugged. “Probably not as much as you.”

“Hey!”

“You asked!”

Ryuji sat up, cracking his knuckles. “Well, let’s find out!”

“Ryuji, don’t–!”

Ryuji yanked Akira out of his bed as he yelped, breaking out into laughter as Ryuji scribbled his fingers all over Akira’s stomach. “Dohohohon’t!”

“Not as much as me, huh? You seem pretty ticklish to me–HEhehe! Wahahait, thahahat’s not fahair!”

The two of them rolled around on the floor as they fought for the upperhand, tickling at each other and laughing their heads off. Ryuji shrieked whenever Akira got close to his underarms, and Akira would curl up if Ryuji grazed his hips. Akira finally managed to gain an advantage as he got both his hands stuck under Ryuji’s arms, making Ryuji holler.

“Now wahahait! Cahahan’t we tahalk ahabout this?!”

“You literally started it, Ryuji!”

“Did nohohot–! Waitwaitwait, AkirahahaHAHA!”

Akira managed to get Ryuji’s wrist held above his head, clawing at his exposed underarm as Ryuji threw his head back and wailed. Akira chuckled with him, deciding to have a bit more fun.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“YEHehes! Plehehease!”

“Say I’m the best Phantom Thief and I will,” Akira drawled, digging into Ryuji’s ribs. Ryuji squealed and kicked his legs, immediately giving in.

“Yohohou’re the behest! Now stahaHAP!”

Satisfied, Akira stopped, quickly retreating to his bed before Ryuji could retaliate. Ryuji laid there for a few moments and then rolled slowly back over to his sleeping bag, panting.

“Again, not as much as you,” Akira teased with a grin. Ryuji only grumbled, claiming to be too tired to argue. “Mhm, too tired. Tired because I just tickled you to the Metaverse and back.”

“Snore… snore…” Ryuji said, his back facing Akira. Akira laughed at Ryuji, who wasn’t even trying to make a snoring sound.

“Goodnight, Ryuji,” He said, waiting a moment for a response.

“Snore.”

#lizzyg42 #tickle fic #akira kurusu #ryuji sakamoto #persona 5 #1k event

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