#tg writing

[actuallyitsstar]

grief is not a feeling, but a neighborhood. this is where i come from. everyone i love still lives here. // (insp.)

#top gun maverick #top gun #filmedit #topgunmaverickedit #filmgifs #tgmedit #top gun edit #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #nick goose bradshaw #top gun maverick gifs #filmtvdaily #topgundaily #stars tg edits #stars gifs #mine #the way this made me SO FUCKING SAD. WTF. ME @MYSELF: STOP IT!!!!! #what can i say tho. ever since i saw the insp i just H A D to make a top gun edit of this. had to. it was The Law #anyways hope it makes u sad too ig akdhdjfhfjfh. ur welcome <3 #love how i get stuck trying to write fluff so im like i know. lemme edit a lot of maverick crying. akdhfjfhfjfhf

[k9effect]

I thought about Mav passed out at his work desk with headphones on and it spiralled into this whole thing

Mav always felt a little lonely.

Even when he had people around him who loved him, he always ended up on his own one way or another and felt that loneliness seeping in. Goose was the first to notice. Before Goose's trips back to Tennessee to see Carole included Mav, he would come back to base to hear about how his pilot had lost a bit of his shine while he was away.

That's when Goose started making the recordings.

It was a small gift, but it meant the world to Mav. A brand new walkman, headphones and all, and a single cassette tape. This tape didn't have music on it, no, it contained a three hour recording of Goose reading though the F-14 Tomcat Flight Manual and adding in his own comedic commentary.

He wasn't sure what Mav would think of it, but when he returned home from another trip and found his pilot curled up asleep on the lounge, headphones on, walkman clutched in his hands, the tape run through, he realised he had made the right decision. Once Mav stirred, realising Goose had returned, he pulled the RIO onto the couch and thanked him for how thoughtful and considerate of a gift it was. That it made him feel less alone.

Goose continued the recordings. They were simple things he could make while completing other work. An hour recording here of Goose rambling while he completed chores, half an hour recording there of Goose muttering while he completes some paperwork. Even after Mav started joining him on his trips to Carole and they inevitably became attached at the hip, Goose continued making recordings. They grew more sincere over time, telling Mav that he was loved and he was strong and could get through anything.

Maverick was very glad he continued making them. It was a piece of Goose he could always carry with him.

Because one day, Goose wasn't there anymore.

Ice was never quite certain why his wingman was always listening to music on a busted walkman, but he never questioned it.

That was until he was packing Mav an overnight bag after an accident and Mav had specifically requested the walkman. Ice had taken a closer look at it and seen the writing on the cassette.

‘GOOSE - 12’

Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled on the headphones and pressed play.

“Y'know, Mav-” It was Goose's voice, Ice realised with a pang deep in his chest, “- I'm pretty sure, by like, most, if not all, the laws of aviation, you should have broken our Tomcat's airframe several times over. I honestly don't know how she's still together-” There was the clinking of dishes and sloshing of water along with the distinct sound of a bristly, sudsy brush scrubbing metal. “- What sort of demon did you make a deal with to manage this? I'm not arguing, I'd rather not face a board of inquiry again, but I'm curious.”

Ice paused it.

He realised very quickly what the cassette was and that, judging on the number, there were more of these.

Mav was always listening to Goose talk.

He packed the walkman into the overnight bag with much more care than he offered possibly anything.

Mav stared.

He blinked once, then twice. But it changed nothing.

There was a cassette sitting on his bed. On it, was scribbled a name and a number.

‘ICE - 1’

Beneath it was a small, simple note.

‘Listen to me.’

Mav pushed the cassette into his walkman and, sitting down, let it play.

“Hey, Mav. Sorry if this is weird for you, it sure feels weird for me. I- uh- I realised what the walkman is for. I'm sorry I teased you for it, it's not dumb and old. I know Slider thought you were pretty cool for having one. He's got one too. But anyways, I found a recording of Goose and I realised why you have this so I thought, y'know, maybe I could make you some new ones? To make up for the teasing at least. I mightn't be as good as Goose but I'll give it my best shot. I've got a book here, I'm just gonna read it out loud for a while, okay? Okay. Here we go…”

Mav listened to the whole thing in one sitting. It was long and sweet and Mav felt something aching inside him, something that hadn't ached in a long time.

Every week or so, Mav would find another cassette in his room with an increased number on it. It was just Ice for a while, but then he found one labelled ‘SLIDER - 1’. Then another a few months later labelled ‘HOLLYWOOD - 1’, then ‘WOLFMAN - 1’. His collection grew as more people helped continue Goose's legacy.

The day he found ‘VIPER - 1’ he felt like he was five again. Viper's recording was two hours worth of him recounting childhood stories of Mav, stories of him with his parents, of just his parents, and deployment tales of his dad.

Once Mav buys his first proper home, an old hangar out in the Mojave Desert, he builds a small shelf to hold all of his cassettes instead of keeping them in a bag or a box. It's then, when they're all neatly organised together, that he realises just how many he has.

The original thirty-one from Goose.

Three from Carole.

One short one from Bradley.

Seventeen from Iceman.

Ten from Slider.

Seven each from Hollywood and Wolfman.

Four from Chipper.

Three from Sunny.

And, so far, Two from Viper.

He doesn't feel so lonely anymore. Everyone he loves has put time and effort into making sure he doesn't feel alone. That instead, he feel loved.

And he sure does.

Even now, years down the track, Ice will stumble upon Maverick passed out at his work desk late at night ontop of a half finished project, with his old walkman next to him, headphones on, listening to Goose laugh his way through the Tomcat manual.

#sam writes #top gun #top gun 1986 #tg 86 #tg86 #icemav #goosemav #maverick #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell #iceman #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #cassette tapes #cassettes #walkmans #fanfiction #fanfic #top gun fanfiction #goose #nick goose bradshaw #nick bradshaw

[t-lostinworlds]

The Grump & The Drunk | Miguel O'Hara

》 PAIRING: miguel o'hara x spider-woman!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x (drunk) sunshine, fluff, humor

》 SUMMARY: You were clingy, feisty with no filter when you're drunk. Miguel had front row seat of it—literally. You're lucky he didn't mind. In fact, he was glad it was him and not anyone else. The thought made him seethe in jealousy even though you technically were not his girl. But he wasn't sure if that still rang true after tonight's drunken confession (or that make-out session).

》 WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, soft!miguel (also emotionally constipated!miguel but what's new), r calls him miggy to tease him, height difference (he's 6'9" he's an effin giant), r thirsts over him in front of his face lol, some innuendos, brief argument about feelings, overall very cute and fluffy.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.1k+

A/N: can anyone guess what movie i watched recently. is anyone surprised that i liked the grump with a side of trauma lmao. ANYWAY. this is the first time i'm writing miguel so pls be nice. wrote this fairly quickly too and it's barely proofread sooo. but i hope you still enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was late.

Quiet.

Well, for now, at least.

Moments like these were rare to come by, where there wasn't much to do except to let things happen. The multiverse was stable enough not to need any intervention.

It usually was the epitome of the calm before the storm.

Nevertheless, everyone—well, those left at HQ and weren't on stakeout—in the Spider Society took advantage of it.

There was always some sort of activity going on during these types of days. Most of it were small get-togethers in the cafeteria, or perhaps a low-key karaoke in the cinema room. Other times it was much more on the nose.

Right now, there was a party held on the rooftop.

The music was blaring—muffled for him, thanks to his soundproofing—as it jumped from genre to genre depending on who successfully bribed the DJ.

It was rowdy—that he was sure of. What, with the modified alcohol strong enough to affect any Spider-Person as if they weren't enhanced, how could it not be?

Miguel wasn't one for festivities. Not to mention, strobe lights always gave him bad migraines. So after showing face for about ten minutes—he wouldn't have shown up at all but was begged to go by someone he couldn't say no to—he decided to call it a night.

Well, back to his…Spider-Cave.

He was sure there would be copyright issues if that was made official.

But it was dubbed by you so it simply stuck.

You, with bright eyes and a sweet smile as you pleaded for him to come with you to the rooftop even if it was "just a couple minutes, please?"

You, who wore a simple yet gorgeous black dress as you all but dragged him into the elevator, bouncing with excitement because it was going to be your first party here at HQ.

You, who enthusiastically sipped on your Pink Señorita—a margarita with pink lemonade—giddy to feel the buzz of the alcohol after years of being unable to.

You, who was so joyful and uncaring as you danced to your heart's content when your favorite song came on, right in the middle of the floor, shining as bright as the sun as the others revolved around you.

Miguel only watched from the sidelines, his chest aching with longing. So close but out of reach because he couldn't.

He'd only put a damper on your light.

It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

He couldn't do that to you.

Soft spot.

Miguel had very few of those.

Anyone who dared to give their opinion on his life with the bravery to say it right to his face said one was occupied by you.

Some would even imply that you held the biggest one.

And sure, the first time Lyla scouted you and suggested for you to be recruited into the Spider Society he might've said yes far too quickly than he should've. But that was only because he saw the way you took down a sector of the Maggia all on your own. He was thoroughly impressed.

There were also times when he let you get away with annoying him scot-free. Whether that was teasing, various nicknames, talking his ear out for hours as you refused to leave him alone to do work, and sometimes even pranks. If it were any other person doing the same things you would've done, they would be leaving the premises at least fearing their life.

He also let you spend time around his magic carpet—as you so unoriginally named it. You were constantly testing those copyright issues—quite often to the point that some of your stuff had migrated the space. There were little trinkets scattered around, evidence that you'd been here.

Miguel finally bought a desk chair perfectly suited for his big and tall stature all because you complained about not having anywhere to sit while you were up here with him.

It was more your chair than it was his, to be honest, since you definitely sat on it far more than he had.

Sure, he could've bought an extra one for you but he didn't want to encourage the teasing—that had been nonstop since you waltzed into his life—that he was playing favorites.

He preferred to stand while he worked, anyway.

Fine.

He could kinda see why many people would say he had a soft spot for you.

Speaking of…

Miguel could hear you before he could even see you.

You were giggling to yourself, followed by poor attempts at whispered apologies when you knocked over something or bumped against something else.

It made him worry a little.

Sure, you were too enthusiastic for his liking, all optimism and sunshine despite everything that you had gone through—it harshly contrasted with his personality.

But he wouldn't particularly classify you as clumsy.

He waited for you to call for him, anticipating which way you'd say it this time around. Your most recent one was: "O'Hara, O'Hara, let down your floating chair."

You thought you were really funny with that one.

But silence.

No cheeky way of asking him to let you come up.

Where'd you go?

Suddenly, he heard a very annoyed and frustrated groan, prolonged and all dramatic.

Then, that familiar thwip rang in the air.

You couldn't have been more impatient.

He was aware of exactly where you were, shooting your webs in random directions so long as you hit a column that took you higher and higher. But even if he didn't have his enhanced senses, your constant giggling would give you away.

Yet as loud as you had already been, your shriek was even louder.

Miguel didn't hesitate to jump off the platform.

His heart was pounding as he clocked your falling figure, adrenaline and fear all at once.

You looked dazed in your freefall, unable to comprehend that your cartridges were empty as you kept trying to shoot your webs.

In the nick of time, he caught you by the waist—upside down.

He let out a huge sigh of relief at the same time you turned into heaps of giggles.

"This isn't how I imagined us getting into this position," you snorted as if you weren't dangling a couple of feet above the ground, feet in the air, arms limp and swaying. "Wow…your thigh is bigger than my head!"

Miguel's whole body warmed, not only from your comments but also because you were still in your dress.

Thank fuck it wasn't a loose skirt.

Not that he would ever look. He might be a bit of a grump—temperamental at times, he'll admit—but he was still a gentleman.

Though he was glad you couldn't see the obvious fluster on his face given your current upside-down predicament.

He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm flipping you around," he said.

"Like a pancake?"

He didn't answer. He simply tossed you into the air, your squeal echoing off the walls. He caught you again but the right way up this time—your hands clinging onto his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Miguel tried not to dwell on your closeness as he shot a web and pulled you both back up.

"You flipped me like a pancake!" you giggled, stumbling onto the platform once you reached it.

What on earth is going on with you?

One look in your eyes, his unspoken question was swiftly answered.

"Widely irresponsible to swing while drunk," he reprimanded, arms crossed over his chest.

You blew a raspberry, waving your hand dismissively. "Am not drunk."

"Then why did I have to save you from falling head-first into the ground?"

"I slipped!"

"You could've just called me to let the platform down."

"And have it take so fucking long?"

Miguel blinked.

Oh you were so drunk.

"I know it's an intimidating tactic or whatever the fuck it is you're doing. Either way, it's a choice, but it doesn't have to be so damn slow, Miggy!"

"I told you to stop calling me that," he said, no heat in his tone. He simply couldn't stand the way his heart did a funny thing whenever he'd hear that nickname slip past your lips.

"Sorry, sir," you said, sarcasm lacing each letter.

Miguel took a deep breath.

"Don't call me that, either," he said, voice an octave deeper.

You rolled your eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Someone's extra grumpy today."

"Night."

"What?"

"It's night."

"Pfft, you know, you should loosen up your suit," you said, waving at all of him. "Maybe the tightness is making you grumpier somehow, suffocating your muscles and everything."

"The tightness of my suit has nothing to do with my mood."

"Could've fooled me," you scoffed, glaring at him from head to toe. "You're probably chafing in weird places and it's making you irritable. I bet—no, I know you're naked underneath because even though I haven't seen you naked I can still see…stuff, many stuff, big stuff, you know, imagination and not leaving any and shit."

"Dios mío," he grumbled in disbelief, rubbing a palm over his warm face. "How drunk are you?"

"Zero percent-o, Miguelito."

He bit back a smile.

"Could've fooled me," he said, raising a brow at you.

"Don't you dare throw my words back at me," you warned, attempting to appear threatening with your chest puffed out, chin raised as you got all up in his face. You slumped with a pout a second later. "You are so fucking tall!"

"And you are so drunk."

"M'not!"

"Uh-huh, sure," he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh I am very sure—Miguel, can you sit down," you complained, brows deeply furrowed as you tried grabbing onto his shoulders, urging him to settle on the chair.

He decided to mess with you a little, planting his feet firmly so you weren't able to budge him even with your enhanced strength.

Your inebriated state wasn't helping your case.

It was the first time he ever got to see you annoyed and he actually found it cute. What, with your brows deeply furrowed and that pout in full play, huffing and puffing as you pushed at his chest with your full body strength, how could he not?

"Miggy sit the fuck down!" you growled.

He resisted the urge to laugh, throwing his hands up as he obliged, "Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Now, he was the one looking up at you.

Yet you still looked frustrated.

"Is that not any better?" he asked, confused.

"No," you mumbled, glaring down at him, pout still prominent.

The next thing he knew, you were already grabbing onto his shoulders, pushing yourself up the chair.

You sat right on his lap.

Miguel was rarely surprised these days, considering what he did for a living.

But he sure as hell wasn't prepared to have you on top of him.

He could almost feel his brain short-circuit, taking a bit more time and effort for it to get its bearings back into place.

But then, you turned shy, eyes blinking at him all wide with shock as if you didn't know that climbing onto his lap resulted in him and you being so close.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hello," he murmured, fingers twitching to hold you. He gripped the armrest instead. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're doing?"

"What…was I doing?" you questioned, almost to yourself, scanning the nearly non-existent space between you both before your face lit up. "Oh! I'm trying to talk to you without spraining my neck, genius."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! You try talking to a six-foot-nine Adonis of a man and see if your neck doesn't hurt after a while."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Adonis, huh?"

"Not like that," you quickly said, voice shyer. "I mean like…huge, muscular, a-and plump."

"Plump?"

"Yeah!" You nodded enthusiastically, pressing your palms right on top his chest, one on each pec. "You've got plump boobs and ass."

He almost choked on air.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"You, hopefully."

"Diosito, ayúdame," he muttered, resisting the temptation to take your word for it. You were drunk. You had no idea what you were saying.

Miguel shook his head when you stared at him confused, still slow on your Spanish. Then again, he'd only ever taught you a few phrases so far.

"How many lemonades did you have?" he asked instead.

"Why are you asking me so many questions!" you groaned, head thrown back as dramatically as you could. "It's my turn to ask questions!"

"Fine," he sighed, ignoring the urge to nip at your exposed skin. He heavily disregarded the thoughts that brewed in his head from the way you were innocently squirming on him, trying to get more comfortable, your skirt hiking up in the process.

He was good at keeping his composure, mastered it after years. He could do it for a couple of minutes more.

"Why'd you disappear?" you sighed.

"Too bright. Too loud."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"You were having fun. Didn't want to spoil your mood," he stated the obvious. "Besides, my absence didn't affect anything."

"But it did," you insisted, bottom lip jutting out. "Was gonna ask you to dance."

His brow rose at that. "And what made you think I'll say yes?"

"You always say yes," you said, shrugging as if it was a known fact to the universe.

If it was you asking? Maybe.

He honestly felt a little glad he left the party early. He wouldn't even dare to imagine the outcome if he was seen out on the dance floor with you.

He would much prefer it with no audience—just you and him.

"I don't always say yes."

You narrowed your eyes, obviously not believing him by one bit.

But you didn't bother to argue.

Instead, you plopped forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face pressed against his neck.

Miguel froze.

He honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

Well, he wanted to do so many things at once, he just didn't know if he should—too many boundaries, too dangerous to cross.

A battle between logic and emotions.

You chose for him, though.

"Will you just—" You pulled his arms off the armrest, wrapping it around you instead. "Want cuddles, please."

How could he say no?

And for the first time in a long while, Miguel finally let himself go.

Body relaxing into the seat, he pulled you a little closer, palms rubbing soft patterns on your back as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head.

It had been so long since he'd cuddled with someone, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. But still, he didn't remember it feeling this lovely—not until now.

Or maybe because it was you.

And if he didn't know any better, he'd say you were purring.

"Comfortable?" he hummed, rubbing the tip of his nose against your crown.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, humming soon after, "I've always wondered just how nice you smell up close."

He couldn't stop the flush that crept up his face.

"You're warm," you whispered, rubbing your face against his neck like a cat.

It made him wonder if you'd been hanging around Spider-Cat too much—or Meows Morales.

He'd rather not think about it.

Instead, he commanded his suit to uncover his hands, one less barrier between his palm and your skin. The fabric of your dress did very little to conceal your warmth as he continued giving you comforting rubs.

It made you bury yourself deeper into his arms as if you could go any further.

"This feels nice," you murmured, voice muffled against him.

He hummed in agreement.

You both settled into a comfortable silence after that.

But if he listened closely, the steady thump of your heartbeat was soft against his ears. He found the sound relaxing, and the minuscule romantic part of him imagined it was syncing with his own.

A peaceful rhythm.

Your soft breaths tickled his skin as you snuggled closer, his smile unabashedly painted on his face.

No one was here to see it, anyway.

After a few more moments of calmness, he assumed you'd already fallen asleep. He was already preparing himself to carry you across universes and back home when you suddenly spoke up,

"Can I touch your fangs?"

He blinked.

"What?"

You shifted, pulling back a little so that you could meet his eyes, face so close your noses almost touched.

"Your fangs," you repeated.

Before he could even respond, your hands were already on his face, one thumb lifting the corner of his lip while your other hand found his chin, holding him still.

"Wanna feel how sharp they are," you muttered, opting to use both hands now to pull his lips and expose his canines.

"Very sharp and dangerous," he chuckled despite himself, gently grabbing your wrists to stop your prodding. "Just take my word for it."

"You're pretty when you smile," you said, beaming and proud as if seeing his fangs was an accomplishment.

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning.

You smiled wider in return.

Holding your hands between you both, he absentmindedly started stroking your palms with his thumb.

It guided your gaze toward it.

"Your hands are naked!" you gasped, grabbing his wrists and bringing his fingers up to your face, wonder and awe in your eyes as if it was the first time you'd seen them without cover—it wasn't.

You'd seen him in casual clothes before.

Miguel couldn't stop his laugh from escaping even if he tried.

"I didn't know you could do that!" you said, fully amazed before your brows furrowed, pout coming back. "Why can't my suit do that? I have to get all naked just to feel my fingers."

He didn't dwell on that picture.

"I'll tweak it for you if you'd like," he said instead.

Your whole face brightened.

"Really? You'd do that?" you giddily gasped, bringing his hands up to press your palms against his like a double high five. The way your hand was much smaller than his made his heart warm.

He interlaced your fingers together. "Really."

"We're going to make a suit together!" you laughed, lovely and sweet. "That's a big big step."

He chuckled, gaze carefully tracing your beautiful features, each curve and divot glowing with happiness. He felt tempted to count every perfectly imperfect mark that littered your skin, wanting to know if it was there naturally, or if there was a story behind it.

It was supposed to be a swift glance.

He didn't mean to settle too long on your lips.

Nor did he plan to get caught.

"Stop staring," you whispered shyly.

"You're right in front of my face," he deflected, eyes back on yours.

"I know but…" You trailed off, shifting slightly, the tips of your noses brushing in the process.

"But?" he softly prodded.

"You're looking at me weird."

"How so?"

"Like…" you started, voice dropping into a whisper as if you were disclosing a secret. "You want to kiss me."

He couldn't even bother to deny the truth.

"I'll stop staring," he hummed, words holding no weight as he never removed his eyes from you.

"No!" you protested, turning flustered a second later, shyer when he smirked.

"I thought it was weird?" he teased.

"'Weird' was the wrong word," you said, scrunching your nose in thought. Adorable. "I meant different."

"How different?"

"I don't know," you admitted, leaning a little closer. "But I like it."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hands finding their way to gently cup his cheeks.

Miguel leaned into your touch with a soft smile. "Now who's staring?"

"It's because I want to kiss you," you admitted shamelessly. Your fingers traced the outline of his lips, your eyes following their path.

Miguel kissed your fingertips.

You leaned down and kissed him.

He gasped, eyes wide in shock.

A split second, they fluttered shut, head tilting, whole body melting as he kissed you back.

He spent countless amounts of time daydreaming about this moment, different scenarios, wondering what you tasted like, how it'd make him feel. But fuck—nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

It was so many things all at once.

Relief, hunger, satisfaction, desperation, fondness, fear, mind stopping, heart beating faster, soft lips, warm skin, so lovely, so sweet, so fucking addicting.

Now that he'd gotten a taste, he couldn't get enough.

Miguel cupped the back of your neck, arm snaking around your waist to keep you steady, close.

Your hand held onto his shoulder, the other finding its way into his hair, your fingers combing through the strands.

He lost any sense of control when you pulled.

Gripping your hips, he teased his tongue against the seam of your lips, slipping it in the second you opened up for him.

He groaned at your taste.

You whimpered in response.

The sound made him want to devour you.

But then you started moving your hips.

It was awakening, in more ways than one.

But the rational part of him prevailed because it was for your sake.

He pulled away, gently grabbing your chin, when you tried going back in.

"Slow down," he rasped, holding your waist and keeping you still. "Estás borracho, corazón."

"You know I don't understand," you breathed out, chest heaving, lips all plump and tempting.

"You're drunk, sweetheart," he clarified.

"I don't care," you whined, squirming.

He cupped your face in both hands.

"I do."

You pouted.

"Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Don't pout," he sighed.

"I'm not pouting," you denied.

"You are," he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your pout only turned more prominent.

The beep of the clock broke him out of his trance.

It was midnight.

Miguel stood up, taking you with him before gently urging you to stand on your own two feet.

"It’s late. You should go," he said monotonously and stepped back.

You frowned.

He looked away.

"Why do you always do this?"

You were frustrated—no, you were getting angry.

He turned his back on you, eyes on the holograms even though there was nothing worth looking at.

"Do what?" he said, acting oblivious.

"Confuse the fuck out of me," you said, loud with frustration. "You act cold and distant one minute and then you're being nice and sweet the next. You keep your distance but then call me all these cute nicknames sometimes—and yes, you say them in Spanish but I asked Lyla about it once and she told me what they meant."

Traitor—thrown under the bus by his own invention.

"But then sometimes you give in and we get closer but the second I chip your walls you push me away," you continued, getting angrier by the second. "I thought things were getting better between us. But now, you won't even fucking look at me even after we just kissed—"

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back!" you screamed.

It took him by surprise.

You had never raised your voice, much less yelled at anyone.

But honestly? There was no one else who deserved it more than him.

Slowly turning around, his heart sank when he met your tear-filled eyes.

By instinct, he reached out to try and comfort you.

It only made you angrier.

"You're doing it again!" you growled and stepped back, hands balled into fists.

Miguel stopped, hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he softly said.

"Protect me?" you scoffed. "Or protect yourself?"

"I'm doing what's best for you," he reasoned, wanting nothing more than to wipe your tears away and kick his own ass for making you cry in the first place.

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe," he said, hands dropping to his sides, dejected. "But I know myself.

"Someone like me shouldn't be with someone as pure and as bright as you."

"No one gets to decide who I should and shouldn't be with," you gritted, taking long strides until you were squaring up to him. "No one but me. That's my choice."

Despite your boiling anger, despite the fact that you were glaring at him in a way that should scare him, despite the absolute animosity that lingered in your voice, your next words couldn't have brought the most opposite reaction from him.

"And I want to be with you."

Happiness, warmth, euphoria—the few things that made his heart burst at the seams.

But Miguel shook his head, eyes dropping to the ground, quickly stomping down emotions.

"I'm only going to end up hurting you," he sighed, pacing back and forth as he rubbed a frustrated hand over his warm face.

"I trust you that you won't."

"Well, you shouldn't," he insisted, eyes filled with longing, wanting to pull you close and taste your lips again despite his words saying otherwise. "You deserve so much better."

"If you believe that so fucking much then be better."

With that, you turned on your heel.

So many things flashed before his eyes, one of which was if he let you walk away now, he was going to lose you, for good.

He fucking panicked.

So much so that he jumped—right over your head.

You squeaked in shock when he landed in front of you.

Miguel didn't waste a second.

He grabbed your face and kissed you senseless.

You stumbled back, Miguel quickly webbing the chair, pulling it just in time for you to land on the cushion.

Not once did his lips leave yours.

He was bending over, hands grabbing the backrest, trapping you against it. You cupped his face, a shiver running down his spine when you trailed your hands down his chest.

But then you gently pushed him back.

He ignored the ache in his heart as he pulled away.

Miguel dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, placing a kiss on each palm before he pressed it against his cheeks.

"I want to be with you so badly," he confessed, eyes never leaving yours so you could see it—all of him at your mercy.

"But I'm scared," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "I'm terrified that all I'll ever do is fail you, that I will never end up being the man that you deserve."

"How would you know if you won't try?" you said, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with the sweetest smile. "And I know you think otherwise, but you deserve to be happy, too."

Miguel didn't know what to say.

So he didn't.

He kissed you instead.

It was slow, reassuring, a soft touch of your lips on his, but never less passionate.

He would've opted to deepen it a little more, but then you downright yawned between the kiss.

And here he thought you couldn't get cuter.

"You need sleep," he chuckled.

"I don't wanna go home," you grumbled, burying yourself into his chest. "It's too far."

"My room, then?" he offered.

You quickly nodded. He could almost feel you grinning against his suit.

He kissed your forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Bed?" you gasped, emerging out of your hiding spot to wriggle your brows at him teasingly. "Gosh, take me out to dinner first."

"What am I going to do with you," he grumbled, shaking his head

"Many things, I hope."

He rolled his eyes, pressing the button to let the platform down.

"Miggy, can you give me a piggyback ride?" you asked, pouting for good measure. "I'm tired."

He sighed, turned around and crouched down.

"He doesn't always say yes he said," you giggled.

"Are you getting on or not?"

"Okay, okay, geez." You grabbed his shoulders and hoisted yourself on his back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Cheek pressed against his shoulder, you grinned. "Always eager to have me ride you, huh?"

His face warmed.

"I'll drop you if you won't stop."

"No you won't."

Miguel loosened his grip.

You yelped, quickly tightening your hold around him.

"You're so mean!"

He chuckled, turning his head as much as he could and puckering up his lips.

You giggled as you gave him a chaste kiss, pressing your cheek in between his shoulder blades with a deep sigh.

"Lyla, please send extra blankets and pillows to my quarters," he said, smiling to himself when you suddenly got heavier on his back.

He was sure you'd already fallen asleep.

Lyla appeared in front of him a second later, her grin far too wide for his liking.

"Not a single word about this to anyone," he interrupted whatever it was she was starting to say. "Please. Just…give us time to figure this out."

"Gotcha, boss," she said. "But for the record, I'm doing it for her."

"Good."

•••

You squinted at the bright glare that roused you from your sleep. You always close the curtains, it was part of your nightly routine. Why did you forget it this time?

Sitting up, you flopped back down with a deep groan.

Your head was pounding.

Hungover.

You didn't miss this part of drinking at all.

After a few moments, you slowly opened your eyes, the ceiling looking too unfamiliar.

Glancing down, the color of the sheets wasn't the sky blue you recently changed it into. As a matter of fact, that bed was much bigger than you were used to.

This wasn't your room.

In fact, this wasn't your world.

"What did I do?" you whispered, glancing at the nightstand. You saw the tall glass of water first, then the few pills of aspirin.

It was the framed picture that made you realize where you were.

This was Miguel's room.

Memories from last night came rushing in like a train, using your brain as railroad tracks which made your headache worse.

You quickly gulped down the water and meds, throwing the blankets off of you only to flush at the discovery.

Boxer shorts and a huge jacket—you were wearing his clothes.

Stumbling into the en suite, your heart warmed at the extra toothbrush that was already waiting for you.

You quickly made yourself as presentable as possible before making your way to the only place you knew he would be at this time of day.

First to clock in, last to clock out.

The platform was already down when you got there.

It was as if he was waiting for you.

"Morning, sleepy head," Miguel greeted without looking away from the screens.

"Good morning," you responded shyly. You picked at the hem of his jacket, second-guessing your choice of not changing out of it.

You honestly didn't know where to even begin.

As if sensing your discomfort, he turned his chair to face you.

Something flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, something primal as he regarded your figure. It was gone the next second you might as well have imagined it.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching out both hands for you to take.

Walking over to him, you slipped your hands into his, the platform beginning its ascend once you did.

You gasped in surprise when he suddenly pulled you onto his lap.

He placed your hands on his shoulders, his strong fingers curling around your waist.

You couldn't look him far too long in the eyes.

It felt like you'd combust if you did.

"What, now you're shy?" he teased, smirking freely. It was a good improvement, but you didn't know if your heart could take it having him smile at you like that. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this last night."

"Don't remind me," you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

Miguel chuckled.

God this was so new.

It felt like you were drunk all over again—no sense of what was real and what was all in your head.

But with the soft squeeze on your waist, and the gentle fingers circling around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face, you knew this was as real as it was going to get.

"What else do you remember?" he asked, thumbs drawing random shapes on the insides of your wrist.

You scrunched up your face. "Everything?"

He hummed, leaning a little closer to nudge the tip of your nose with his, urging you to keep your eyes on him.

"I have no idea how to do this…relationship thing. It's been a while," he started, a faint blush on his cheeks that made him so much more endearing. "But I'm willing to try this—with you."

Your heart grew ten times its size, you were sure of it.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, kissing your knuckles. "If you'll let me."

"We'll figure it out together," you said, holding his face in your hands with a smile.

"I'd like that," he whispered, grin turning cheeky. "On one condition."

"What?" Your brows furrowed.

"Morning kisses are mandatory."

You let out a hearty laugh, sound quick to turn into giggles when Miguel pressed his lips against yours.

It didn't take long for things to get heated.

You were picking up right where you left off last night, a little further given that alcohol wasn't in the equation anymore.

Yet with the way Miguel's hands were roaming your body, grabbing and groping whatever he could reach, tongue hot and heavy as it slipped past your lips, his deep groans vibrating against your palms as you rested it on his chest, his kisses moving their way onto the warm skin on your neck, softly nipping, tongue soothing—it was far more dizzying than any modified alcohol and then some.

It was a familiar voice that broke you off this time.

"Ahem! Uh, hello, I'm here!" It echoed from below. "The baby, too, by the way. So make sure you're…uhm, decent when you bring that thing down."

Miguel pulled away with an annoyed groan, eyes landing on the floating figure that appeared behind you.

If he could kill Lyla with one look—

"What?" she exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"She didn't! You guys just weren't particularly…quiet," Peter B. defended on her behalf, chuckling. "And this place has the worst echo."

"Yeah, that's your fault," you whispered against his lips, pecking him one last time before getting off his lap.

He wasn't particularly happy about that either.

You pushed the button before he could say anything, the platform descending, smiling at him all innocent.

"I'm not done with you," he warned, voice deep with lust it made your whole body tingle.

"I'm counting on it." You winked, hopping off the platform before he could even respond.

Mayday landed in your arms before you could take a step.

"Hi, beautiful girl!" you greeted cheerfully, her chubby cheeks lifting as she giggled at you. "

"I wouldn't rush it," you heard Peter say.

"What?" Miguel gritted, still so annoyed.

"I know you're thinking about having a baby with her."

You bit back a laugh.

The utter silence from Miguel made it so much harder.

"You know nothing," he grumbled.

"Maybe," Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. "About time you made your move though."

Miguel grumbled something incoherent and turned back towards the screen.

Still, you caught the smile he was trying to hide.

It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

You walked over to him with Mayday in your arms. "Say hi to Uncle Miggy!"

Always your best accomplice, Mayday made grabby hands at him, blubbering, "Middy! Middy!"

Miguel sighed, carefully taking Mayday from you, before giving her a soft smile—the only other person he wasn't grumpy to. "Hello, peanut."

She giggled in response, climbing onto his shoulders, settling on them with her arms above his head. She always loved being so tall.

Miguel shot you a glare then, no heat to it at all. If anything, it was filled with pure fondness.

You grinned at him.

"You're a bad influence," he whispered to you.

"I don't think I am, Middy," you teased, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

The way he suddenly turned flustered was adorable.

And when Mayday made a yucky sound, and Peter B. laughed, you knew your work of teasing him for the day was done.

"Come on, bub, let's go get you ice cream," you called, the little girl giggling in delight before jumping into your arms. You sent Miguel a wink before leaving him to deal with his beloved friend's teasing. Peter was practically waiting for this moment.

Many people regretted what they had done while drunk, especially when it involved something embarrassing.

Not you.

You regret nothing at all.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!

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© t-lostinworlds, 2023 ✘ I do NOT give any permission to repost, translate, & use any of my works (writings, gifs, dividers, etc.) on any platform, with credit or otherwise. Please respect that. Thank you.

#tg&td #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara reader insert #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spider-man: across the spider-verse #atsv #my writing

[cannibalhellhound]

Wings AU character bits

Hi this is me trying to get a grip on writing again and getting the characters while also adding the wing bits.

Ice Harpy Eagle

Likes having long nails (harpy eagles have fuckin huge talons), keeps them shaped and neatly painted if he's in the mood when on leave

Likes to keep his nest cool and clean (comfy but practical)

Tall nesting! He always claims the top bunk! 

His childhood bedroom had one of those tall beds with a desk under them because he kept piling stuff up to sleep atop of them and it could fit multiple people 

Sad because Navy bunk beds are small :(

Strong as fuck (he's smaller than Sli but can bench press almost as much) (harpy eagles grab animals as big as them like sloths and carry them) (can carry others while flying if needed just not for lengthy flights)

Very keen eyesight so sunglasses for light sensitivity (maybe reading glasses for near sight focus? I like him with glasses)

Very good hearing (don't shit talk near him he'll definitely hear it)

Hair moves very slightly, similar to feathers (kinda like their facial disk and feather crest) 

*Baby feathers are almost all white with some light gray. They molt usually once a year (sometimes twice) and it takes 5 years to get the adult coloring 

Ice's stayed in a middle coloring and he got insecure. His mom suggested matching his hair and that's how the frosted tips came to exist :D

He's a provider by nature but his little sisters have made him very nurturing and affectionate too (Slider knows this firsthand and thinks it's hilarious how fussy Ice can get)(the others learn with time but first baby goose)

Leaves feathers around the house (perfectly placed thank you very much)

Slider Bearded Vulture

Lämmergeier means “Lamb vulture” (wrong because they don't prey on sheep but shhhhh).  Slider calls Maverick “Little lamb” as a joke because he loves annoying him and wants to eat him up

CAN ACTUALLY EAT BONES!!! (Bone soup is a thing!) Will chew on them till it's painful to watch and will take anyone's bones off their plates to pick the marrow off them

The bone dropping shows a lot in him just throwing stuff. He does it. A LOT.

He also likes to have a tennis ball around to fidget dropping it and catching it when it bounces

Has an actual nest bed. The mattress is on the harder side but it has a shit ton of blankets and pillows (to the point you can't feel the mattress)

There are old feathers around the nest tucked in between pillows (don't tell Ice!!) ⁠(⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠)

Very involved into the life of the ones he loves (helpful, affectionate, etc) (this includes parenting looks at baby goose)

His feathers only dye red when visiting his family or on vacation with family because they frequent iron rich waters (his mom loves her red feathers and looking at her baby look like her makes her teary eyed)

Maverick Peregrine Falcon

Very lightweight!!!

He's beauty, he's grace, he'll dive down and kick you in the face (literally, peregrine falcons kill prey by punching them with their closed talons when dividing)

Very keen reflexes (both at ground and on air), will grab anything you throw at him even if distracted

Very! Good! At courting!!!! (Looking at the beginning bar scene)

Small but comfy nest. Very soft and also bunk bed! is perfect

Has a favorite blanket that he will ALWAYS take everywhere, even on deployment 

Cracking his head fuckin open more than once as a kid because he's a menace and small and tried to dive from places he climbed (not his best idea)

crying because he's so small he can't carry goose after the accident and can just grab at him until they get rescued

Now this would be for trans! Mav

To everyone's surprise Mav is as big as he can get (Female birds of prey are bigger than males= bigger wingspan, human height is genetic so for avians is a bit mixed)

Wings don't allow binding (for obvious reasons) but kinesiology tape exists! 

He already used KTape before joining the navy and top surgery so he's used to just strutting around shirtless (we stan a short confident king! It's honestly so freeing to tape and be shirtless I might just leave him pre surgery for next fanart pieces)

Goose Emden Goose

Literally a Mother Goose™

Has learned to deal with Maverick and not only does he not get surprised by his antics, he can predict them and is already prepared for them (aka get ready to scoop tiny ass Mav if he gets in trouble or hurts himself)

The good part is that it has made him baby proof. He can deal with a child he's been dealing with Mav!

Terrified. Absolutely terrified. Because his beautiful baby gosling is as much a little shit as his wife and best friend. If his wings weren't already white they'd for sure be by now ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

I need to think more about Mav and Goose but that involves looking for Peregrine Falcon and Geese facts

Edit to take out the divider because I don't like it

#this is my life now i am the wings au #and i dont even like birds this much #ive been writing this down on a notebook and my google docs judges me now #again if you have ideas or additions TELL ME please i love talking about this #i may post updates if i add a significant amount of points #HelloI'mHayden #Air Gays™ #wings au #wing au #tg #top gun #pete maverick mitchell #top gun 1986 #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #nick goose bradshaw #slicemav #icemav #slimav #tgm #top gun maverick #trans pete maverick mitchell #maverick mitchell #iceman kazansky #slider kerner #goose bradshaw

[fairy-writes]

Here is my second request!!

Could I please get a kaneki ken with the action prompt 7? Fluff please!

STITCHES AND KISSES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Kaneki Ken x Gender Neutral!Human!Investigator!Reader

Prompt: Bandaging/washing their lover’s wounds after a fight (Action Prompt #7)

Notes: This is like… post-Jason Kaneki

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

__________________________________________________________________________

By definition, your relationship with Kaneki Ken was forbidden. 

The infamous half-ghoul and the prodigy of Arima Kishou? That was almost as good as being a Montague and a Capulet. 

You got lost in thought as your lover hunted through your apartment for your first aid kit.

Would the CCG be the Capulets if this were indeed a Romeo and Juliet story? They were the ones who had more power, after all. They were able to walk around freely during the day, freely hunting down their prey while ghouls hid in fear for their lives.

A gentle caress on the back of your head made you jump and look up from your spot on the side of the bathtub.

Kaneki Ken stands illuminated by the bathroom light, but you swear you’ve never seen anything more handsome. The harsh luminescence makes his white hair almost transparent, and his dark gray eyes are overshadowed as he bends his head and sits beside you. 

“You found it?” You ask, and he nods, keeping quiet, and you don’t miss how he doesn’t say a word. 

He’s angry. That much is obvious. 

You don’t want to argue, don’t want to fight. So you wordlessly unbutton your white work shirt that’s coated in your own blood and shed it, tossing it in the bathroom sink. Then, you turn around so he can see how bad the damage is. While he doesn’t say a word, you hear the almost inaudible gasp that escapes him. 

And you know how bad it is.

The kagune of the Aogiri Tree ghoul had cut deeply into your shoulder blades and spine. It wasn’t lethal. You could still walk and everything. It had been a tough fight, with you getting the injuries protecting a small child that had almost been a midnight snack for the ghoul. He—or she, you couldn’t tell with the mask—had been an Ukaku type, with wings of reds and purples that you, frankly, found beautiful. 

It almost hurt you to kill them. 

But you had to remind yourself that all ghouls weren’t like Kaneki. They weren’t all like Anteiku. Some of them are simply man-eating monsters, people or not; that wasn’t something you could forgive that easily. 

The sting of antiseptic has you jolting from your memories, and you hiss in pain against your attempts to keep quiet. Ken murmurs a soft “sorry” but doesn’t stop cleaning the gunk and grime out of the gash. 

“You’ll need stitches.” He says in that quiet voice of his. You hum,

“I trust you.” You whisper, and he doesn’t respond. 

He’s been so silent after everything with Jason. But you still hear soft cries when he thinks you’re asleep. You still see the almost invisible shaking of his hands when there’s a loud, unexpected noise. 

You still see how broken he is because of it. 

But you also see how strong it made him. He loves fiercer, holds you just a few seconds longer every time he hugs you, every time he kisses you. 

The pain of the needle dipping in and out of your skin and muscles has you biting your knuckle to keep quiet. While your neighbors knew what you did for a living, that didn’t mean they had to know you were in agony. 

Ken, luckily, makes it quick. He ties off the thread and cuts it before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the wound. His lips are soft, and when he leans his forehead between your shoulder blades, you can feel how worried he is. 

Because he almost lost you tonight. 

If your partner had been a few seconds slower or hadn’t gotten you away from the ghoul in time, you would have died. Would have left him alone.

“You don’t have to be so gentle.” You say and feel him shift, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you tenderly into his chest. 

“Yes, I do.” He says, and you hear his voice crack, “Someone has to be.”

And that breaks your heart. 

Because you know it’s true. 

Your hands are perpetually coated in red and covered in harsh calluses and blisters from handling your quinque. Your body is hard with muscle from endless fights. 

You aren’t gentle with yourself. You know it. Ken knows it. 

Abruptly, you realize he’s talking. 

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” He whispers, and you smile. Weren’t you just thinking about Romeo and Juliet? You lean your head back and turn it so you can kiss his hair.

“Is that a roundabout way of saying you love me?” You ask and feel him chuckle, feel the vibrations against your back.

“I suppose so.” Is all he says. But he doesn’t need to say more. 

Because you can tell he loves you.

#kaneki ken x reader #kaneki x reader #kaneki ken x you #kaneki x you #tokyo ghoul x reader #tg kaneki x reader #tg kaneki #tokyo ghoul kaneki #kaneki ken #ken kaneki #fairy writes #fairy 1000 followers

[oathkeeperoxas]

Hello, my friend! 44 or 71 for Icemav, if you're still warming up? <3<3<3

ELWEN yesssss going wild for this one. Forehead press my number 1, you will always be famous to me

71. lingering forehead against forehead, consumed by each other and barely having enough strength to breathe

The call comes at 6:43pm.

Ice lets it ring for three trills, still in that limbo of not knowing. Dead, or not dead? And the less important question of if the mission was a success or not. These two things are not related to each other. A successful mission could still mean a dead pilot. If that's the case, then he's already living in a world without Maverick Mitchell. If that's the case, then he has five more seconds of not knowing about it, before the knowledge sinks its teeth into him, inescapable.

He picks the phone up. He's has a lifetime of doing the hard work, making the terrible choices that no one else wants to make. He can't avoid this forever, and he wouldn't want to, so he puts the phone to his ear and listens, and when he puts it down he has to lean his elbows onto his desk, face in his hands. Gut swooping like he's just pulled an emergency barrel roll and hadn't had the chance to prepare for it. Sick, like he's grown so used to over his treatment, sick, like he's really going to throw up. But he's had a lot of practice with this too, so he swallows it all down neatly enough. There's still work to do, maybe more work, now that they'll have to switch to soothing Russia's ruffled feathers at having their sovereignty impinged upon. Mav and Bradley won't be back in the country for another day at least. He has plenty to do to fill the time until then.

The seconds tick past, and the minutes dribble through his fingers, and the hour hand on his watch inevitably ticks forward. He gets into a shouting match with the SECDEF and is called into conference with the JCS and watches as updates on the pilots who flew the mission trickle into his inbox. Mav's medical report is last, which means he only nibbles on dinner, a bad habit that Mav would scold him for. Ice would take it, would take any words from him, as long as he he here to speak them.

He works through the night and gets to sleep somewhere about quarter to five, and is back at his computer before ten. Mav's report has come in, and while it doesn't look great, it's not all bad news. He's walking under his own power, and while injured, apparently isn't in too much pain. Ice holds his own reservations about that. Mav's never enjoyed telling an authority figure everything. Ice will get the truth out of him when they see each other next.

All the pilots are in flight back to North Island, which means they're out of contact even if Ice wanted to reach out, which he doesn't. This isn't the first time that Mav has been on a mission and Ice has been able to do nothing but wait for him to come home. He prefers to wait to see Mav in person before they talk to each other. It's better that way.

He fends off orders to fly to Washington, at least delaying until tomorrow or the day after, and makes up for it by sitting on conferences all afternoon while typing away furiously at the dozens of emails that have landed in his inbox. Everything is a flurry of activity, everything needs his attention now, and yet he puts everything aside when he sees that the transport has landed at North Island, and that all the pilots have been taken for debriefing, except for the two who spent time on the ground, who have been shuttled to the base hospital. Ice packs up his laptop and notifies his driver, and is on the road immediately.

He's not in uniform, so manages to fly mostly under the radar until he hits the two Marines standing guard outside Mav's hospital room, who only give way when they recognise him. Ice bids them to wait outside, and closes the door behind him when he enters. There's a curtain that's hiding most of Mav from his sight; the only part of him that Ice can see are his feet, which are bare. His toes are poking out from the side of the blanket that Mav has thrown over him, and Ice is hit with a wave of emotion that's as irrational as it is powerful -- Mav's feet are uninjured. His toes are okay. He can see that. It makes it hard to breathe, and he steadies himself before stepping forward, not wanting to cough and worry his partner. This is not a moment for Mav to be worried about Ice.

"Did you bring me some real clothes?" Mav grumbles. "I'm not wearing this. This is an attack on decency. I'm fine. I don't need to be here. Who do I have to speak to, to go home?"

Ice closes his eyes and musters himself after that volley. Then he moves forward under full sail, to stand at the end of Mav's bed and lay a hand on his ankle.

"I didn't bring you any clothes," Ice rumbles, voice hoarse from all the speaking he's been putting it through today. "And you can come home when the doctors say you can leave."

"Ice," Mav says, eyes wide, and Ice can't stay away from him anymore. Mav is already struggling to sit up, and Ice sits on the bed and ropes his arms around him, lashing them together. Mav makes a low sound, torn somewhere from deep in his chest, and presses their heads against each other. Ice tilts them so their foreheads are together, noses and mouths close, breathing the same air. "Ice," Mav repeats, desperate, and Ice wants to squeeze him and never let him go for scaring Ice so badly, for coming to him in the first place and asking to do this, for daring to get shot down and for making Ice receive the news that he's dead, only to be told that he'd pulled off the impossible--

Ice presses a palm to Mav's neck to feel his pulse, and they're both gasping against each other, clinging like they're at sea and the other is their lifeboat. Like lovers to be parted on the morrow. Like they'll never get another day quite like this one.

"You scared the shit out of me," Ice manages, and Mav barks a laugh through his tears.

"You're telling me," Mav manages, cupping a hand on Ice's cheek and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. "I was pretty scared myself."

"The kid?" Ice asks.

"He's better than me. Young bones, and all that."

Ice can hardly breathe. He pulls away to clear his throat, and then comes back to lay his head on Mav's shoulder and press his face into Mav's throat. Mav's hand rests on the back of his neck. There's still so much to do. Ice can feel the weight of his emails piling up in his inbox. But he can put off making the hard decisions for an hour. He can let himself be human for an hour. Mav's arms have the power to protect him. He hasn't lost that privilege. He hasn't lost Mav.

"If you think I'm letting you do anything like that ever again--"

Mav laughs. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I used that one favour up. Won't happen again. We're even now -- how about we don't do that to each other again, yeah?"

It's good he's sitting down. The dizzying relief would have forced him to anyway. He lays a kiss over Mav's pulse.

"I don't think cancer and flying into a deathtrap are particularly equivalent," Ice grits out. "But I'm willing to overlook that if you are."

Mav cradles him gently, laying kisses against his crown. "Sounds like a plan to me."

Ice sighs and sits up. "Are you okay?" he asks. "I know you've been lying to try and get out of here faster."

Mav sniffs, pretending to be offended. "They're not falling for it," he says plaintively.

"Good. Start telling them how you really feel. I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon."

"Yeah?" Mav asks, looking up at him.

"Yeah," Ice says softly. "Gotta keep an eye on my troublemakers."

Mav's eyes crinkle into his familiar smile, and Ice is home, home, home.

A hundred different kisses prompt list

#cyclone is keeping everyone inside today so writing time #icemav #iceman #maverick #top gun #tg #mine #my writing #forehead to forehead really be my number 1 weakness and yes i blame robin hobb for it

[qin-ling]

took a break from writing to doodle hahaha don’t mind me…

#icemav #top gun #top gun 1986 #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #nick goose bradshaw #ron slider kerner #qin art #when i first started writing for tg i told myself i wouldn’t draw for it too yet HERE I AM #i am a clown

[polar-equinoxx]

Icemav fic where after Goose’s death, Maverick is touch-starved. Ice is the only one who notices this. And despite them being rivals, Ice plucks up the courage to offer Maverick a seat next to him in a lesson.

Maverick takes the offer and slowly, carefully and without a word, Ice edges his hand closer to Maverick’s on the desk. Then he goes the whole way and holds it for pretty much the rest of the day.

#ms tg #ms textpost #idk just randomly thought of it on my way to college #ice just wants mav to feel okay again #i will probably write this . thats a probably #icemav #top gun #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun 1986

[mizutenshii]

KISS MY BLOODIED LIPS.

— pairing ; kaneki ken x human!gn!reader

— summary ; you never expected to kiss one of the hated humanoid monsters, yet here you were. or: first kiss with him.

— cw ; don't worry he doesn't actually have blood on his lips, fluff, awkward first kiss, slight making out? est. relationship

only god knew why and how you ended up in a dark alley behind anteiku, but you were there and something was about to happen. you weren't dense, you could feel it in the way kaneki was looking at you – or rather, the way his gaze had dropped down to your lips more than once already. a gesture you reciprocated eagerly, until at some point you were just awkwardly staring at each other's lips.

you didn't know how to go from there, as you never kissed someone before. you weren't one to put much thought into what your first kiss would be like, but you always assumed it would be with a human. yet here you were, cornered by the ghoul you grew to adore.

no, kaneki didn't verbally tell you he wanted to kiss you, but you weren't oblivious; there was only one possible outcome to the position you were currently in, and you were afloat on the tight atmosphere. you couldn't wait, although you were incredibly nervous just as much.

"i-is this okay?" the half-ghoul asked, bringing up his hand to cup your cheek. kaneki gazed at you full of worry, as if one wrong move would break the spell and scare you away.

"mhm," you hummed, tilting your head to lean into his light touch a little more. you offered him an awkward smile, not knowing what else to say.

"i never did this before," kaneki confessed. "i guess i'm afraid of messing up, afraid of losing control, i don't know, i just–"

"only one way to find out, right?" you shrugged, trying to come off calm and collected. but your voice was a little shaky and uneven, giving away how nerves got a tight grip on you.

the boy with hair as pale as the moon visibly gulped, but something in his gaze hardened resolutely. it was as if he made up his mind, bringing up his other hand to cup your face completely and tilting your head to his favor. all physical distance was slowly being eliminated, the heavy anticipation palpable in the air between you. kaneki moved closer to you, barely daring to breathe as his eyes fluttered closed. you shuddered when his lips ghosted over yours, a fleeting touch that made both your breath hitch in your throat.

but the ghoul hesitated, froze in his movements, even drew back a little as his eyes opened anxiously. he was nervous, and it wasn't hard to figure out what was on his mind. after all, behind his soft lips rested the teeth of a deadly predator, and right now the hunter brought its teeth close to its prey. 

"we can wait if it doesn't feel okay yet," you reassured him as fear rose in his grey eyes. "we don't have to do it right now, there's no rush."

"no, i want this," kaneki sputtered, a slight frown falling upon his features. "i'm just afraid of hurting you, one way or another."

"i trust you," you solemnly told him.

"you shouldn't," the ghoul shook his head.

"but i do," you countered. "kiss me, ken."

kaneki sighed, muttering something under his breath before he finally gave in. the final distance that separated you was eliminated as his lips met yours – tentative, brief, lingering for but a second before he pulled back. he watched you, and as you showed no signs of dismay he dove right back in. this time he kissed you with more fervor, more courage, his lips moving against yours in a somewhat uncoordinated rhythm.

but god, you were enjoying it. your hands found his sweater, fingers clawing at the soft fabric to pull him even closer to you. he was being careful, he was holding back, you could feel it. but you weren't going to ask for more – not now. you were beyond happy with what he was giving you already.

when he pulled back, he was panting lightly – and so were you. kaneki looked at you, grey eyes full of adoration. you couldn't help but break into a full smile, looping your arms around his neck and hugging him close. the half-ghoul was quick to reciprocate the gesture, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head as he held you lovingly.

"see? i can trust you," you giggled lightly, resting your cheek against his shoulder as you clung to him.

"just not too much, okay?" kaneki muttered, his breath rustling your hair. "i'm a monster, and as much as i love you, you'll never know when i mess up."

it was a peculiar love story the two of you had. humans were supposed to despise ghouls, their only enemy. and yet you fought through the natural boundaries, getting too infatuated with one of the hated humanoids and erasing the line that naturally stood between the hunter and their prey.

but it was okay. maybe kaneki didn't trust himself, but you did. and you knew you wouldn't regret it, ever. after all, love was stronger than his hunger, right?

mizutenshii — O3.1O.2O23 — masterlist

help i never write kiss scenes this was a struggle and i hope it's not a pain to read ><

#nana writes #tokyo ghoul #anime #kaneki ken #ken kaneki #kaneki #tg #tokyo ghoul kaneki #tokyo ghoul x reader #tokyo ghoul fanfiction #kaneki x reader #ken kaneki x reader #kaneki ken x reader

[thatsrightice]

I understand that military flight simulations were no where close to as complex as they are today, but I would put money on the fact that Ice would have more hours in the flight sim than anyone else. Call him a perfectionist and he’d agree but it takes work to get to that level, to know what to do in every scenario.

Ice would have spent countless hours in flight simulations trying to defeat all five bogeys on his own following the USS Leighton rescue mission to find a way to make it happen. He didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, no one was expected to take down so many adversaries in a situation such as his, but still he pushed. He scared people, not intentionally (most of the time), but in flight sims you could cut loose a little, inch over that line into the grey area that isn’t quite reckless abandon.

Ice was cool, calm, and collected, but there were times when the anger would bubble inside of him. Anger and irritation towards his dad, Maverick, the US Navy, or maybe himself that had him itching to release his emotions. Instead of accidentally exploding on someone, he’d go to the flight sim and fly with such calculated recklessness and precision that he’d have everyone shitting their pants at the revelation of the Iceman’s true potential, a beast within himself that wasn’t quite what the Navy wanted in pilot but something that effortlessly demanded respect regardless.

#top gun #tom kazansky #top gun: maverick #iceman #top gun maverick #top gun iceman #pete mitchell #icemav #ron kerner #fanfic #tg 1986 #top gun 1986 #tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #ron slider kerner #badass iceman #is underrated #writing #text #I like planes #here’s this little thing I wrote #just a little thing I wrote

[heartstringsduet]

I can't believe it's Wednesday this week? Sounds fake??? Anyway this is more from my Fantasy AU. It's still very raw because I feel all my writing is somehow ehh the past couple days but we can polish this later. thanks for tagging me @paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @strandnreyes @sznofthesticks

“If you’re cold, I can get a fire started,” Carlos says and already walks to the stone oven in the corner. There is a single log inside it on the gray stones that will not last for long but TK doesn’t comment on it. He expects Carlos to just look at it to have flames spring up or just think about it, but instead Carlos twists around and retrieves something from a drawer. Blanket around his shoulders, TK walks over, curious to see why it takes a while to find Carlos retrieving a long lighter from its packaging. 

There is no flame yet, but TK feels a little warmer as he stands behind Carlos. It makes him wonder if there is heat radiating off the men or if it comes from within himself. Carlos stiffens when he notices his presence, but doesn’t acknowledge him as he brings the lighter to the log.

The flame that erupts from it grows larger, too large to be natural, and yet the log doesn’t seem to catch on for a while.

“Fire isn’t my affinity,” Carlos says when the log still doesn't burn properly.

“Affinity?” TK settles down on the ground beside Carlos.

“Elementals can’t master all elements equally. We can use all of them, just not to the same degree. There's usually one or two elements that come easier and more naturally to us.”

“What are your affinities?”

“Earth and water.”

Somehow, that doesn’t surprise TK. There is a calm to Carlos, that makes TK feel like he is sitting on sun-warmed soil near a river, eyes on a steady flow that echoes in the air like a gentle murmur. It would be easy to sink into it, slump to the side and into Carlos, and finally settle from a life in mid-air.

Open Tag &

@thebumblecee @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @goodways @chaotictarlos @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @freneticfloetry @lightningboltreader @carlos-tk @bonheur-cafe @reyesstrand @never-blooms @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @ladytessa74 @lemonlyman-dotcom @decafdino @orchidscript @sanjuwrites @safeaswrites @whatsintheboxmh @inkweedandlizards @fitzherbertssmolder @alrightbuckaroo

#tg #wip wednesday #tarlos fic #fic: bargains #michelle writes #sorry my brain is MUSH this week #this might be bad lol

[actuallyitsstar]

does it count as a criminal record if his only crime is having way more fun than the navy allows? (insp).

#topgunmaverickedit #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick gifs #top gun maverick edit #top gun #stars gifs #mine #stars tg edits #idek HOW to explain myself on this one babes i saw the insp post a couple days ago and it has been HAUNTING me #torturing me like those voices #its so. yeah. cant explain it but its him #being so normal about that old man is an olympic sport and baby im bringing home the gold #or whatever that famous text post says #i am paraphrasing #anyways these gifs are not perfect and coloring this movie was a real bitch but enjoy akdhfkffhgj #me trying to write my wips and my brain is just MAKE GIFS !!! MAKE GIFS !!! DO ITTTTT

[the-ace-with-spades]

Mav finds out people call Ice his 'guardian angel' and starts teasingly calling him angel, too, whenever they see each other, but angel sounds less and less like teasing and more and more like fondness as the years go on.

I haven't done a thing wrong in my life, angel. How are you doing, angel, still bored out of your mind behind a desk? Hello, angel, long time no see. Would you like some coffee with your breakfast, angel? I miss you, too, angel.

#or mio angelo #since for some reason Mav is always a bit Italian in my head #don't ask why i don't know #icemav #tg #he uses the same tone crowley uses for aziraphel i imagine #q #op #charlie writes

[asha-mage]

Anaiya nodded. "We understand your reasons for disliking Elaida, even hating her. We do understand. But we must think of the Tower and the world. I confess I do not like Elaida myself. But then I have never liked Siuan either. It is not necessary to like the Amyrlin Seat. There is no need to glare so Siuan. You have had a file for a tongue since you where a novice and it has only roughened with the years. And as Amyrlin you pushed sisters where you wanted and only seldom explained why. The two do not make for a very likeable combination."

-The Fires of Heaven, Chapter 27: The Practice of Diffidence

Re-reading The Fires of Heaven has made me increasingly confident in the show's read of Siuan's character being book accurate (an opinion I originally articulated here). I always encourage re-reads of the books, but I would very much encourage re-reading The Shadow Rising and The Fires of Heaven specifically if you are doubting the choices the team made in episode 7.

Cause the thing is, Siuan's central character flaw- the one Anaiya is trying to gently cite above, the one on heavy display all throughout both books via Siuans treatment of those around her, is her complete lack of trust paired with a willingness to force and browbeats others into doing what she thinks is best.

It is, ironically, a trait she shares with Rand- both are unafraid to use their power (physical, magical, political- what have you) to make others obey, and both also are unwilling to demonstrate trust and good faith out of a fear of showing weakness. It's something born inherently of their shared insecurities about their respective positions of power- Siuan's young rise to the Seat and the fact that she is carrying on her conspiracy with Moiraine and Rand's belief that he isn't strong enough/good enough/hard enough to be the Dragon Reborn alongside the tendency of the people he cares about to get hurt or have their lives ruined by simple proximity to him.

Throughout both The Shadow Rising and The Fires of Heaven Siuan uses primarily tactics drawn form the same playbook that would later also lead Rand to disaster in the back half of the series: she comes to view those under charge more for their value to her agenda then as people she should be looking after, forcing Min to remain in the Tower against her will, refusing to make any effort to console or reassure those who care about Elayne (Gawyn, Galad, Morgase) that she is well, and engaging in many actions because their are expedient without regard for their moral implications (ordering Mazrim Taim's execution without trial, lying about Logain being set up by the Red Ajah, manipulation Logain so he has no choice but to follow along with her plan). And I don't think it's a mistake that many of those actions either lead to, or directly follow, Siuan's downfall in the Tower.

In fact, Siuan begins to make the turn in her character after encountering Mistress Tharne, which largely sets in motion Siuan's character arc for the remainder of the series: realizing that she can not force the word to conform to her will, not least of all because she is no longer the most powerful woman on the planet, but more over because it's wrong. Mistress Tharne's rough treatment of Siuan, her complete lack of respect or deference, is a wake call to Siuan that gives her empathy and understanding of the way she treated others when she held power. Much of her arc there after is about emphasizing that point, first as a stilled woman serving Aes Seadi, then as a restored but drastically weakened Aes Sedai.

In this way Siuan gets a taste of what it's like to be on the other side- forced and expected to obey, constantly fighting against a system rigged against her from the start, meant to keep her out of circles of power and away from the ability to make decisions as a woman who can not channel, and then as a Aes Sedai who does not stand high enough in the hierarchy. More over it gives her perspective on why things like the Oaths and the Tower's traditions matter- on the ways the Oaths protect ordinary people and the way Tower traditions like 'staying out of the business of other Aes Sedai' and 'respect secrets of individual sisters and Ajahs' help keep Aes Sedai working together and functional. But it's really her friendships, which she is able make on now even terms, with Nynaeve and Egwene, that help her gain empathy and understanding, and in particular allows her (via her mentorship of Egwene) to try and positively influence the Tower's future via reforms to make it more equitable, less mired and fractious and cracked.

As Amylrin, we're told, Siuan ruled by playing one faction in the Tower against another, widening the cracks between Ajahs and within them so that no one was able to effectively oppose her and her agenda- that is until someone came along who could rally support, to take advantage of those simmering frustrations and angers in order tear her down. But that person, Elaida, shared many of her faults and few of her virtues- instead of playing one faction against and brow beating, Elaida (with the Shadow's help) turned the Tower into armed camps ready to lash out at each other. Siuan's tendency (often cited by even herself) to send sisters to do penance on farms for opposing or annoying her, became Elaida using the same tool to humiliate and punish her enemies and using edicts to demote them to Accepted for being weak, and Siuan's precedent for keeping secrets and working around the Hall became Elaida plotting to kidnap Rand and 'make him supple' via Galina's embassy.

And it's a neat closing of the circle, the kind Jordan really likes to play with, that Siuan's redemption for this is her training of the woman who will replace both her and Elaida. Someone who will actually fulfill both women's ambitions of leading the Tower in the last battle- Egwene. Siuan's justice against Elaida is to help prepare an Amyrlin that will be more then either she or Elaida ever could- someone who will be free of their faults, who will be able to unite the Tower as both women dreamed of doing but never could- who can guide Rand and bind the nations to him, who can serve as a general of the Light strong enough to balance the worst of the Shadow. Siuan teaches Egwene how not to do the things she did, to fall into the traps that brought her down- the arrogance, the pride, the domineering, the compromises with her own morals- and it's that teaching which, in part, gives Egwene the ability to persuade the Tower that still saw her as a Novice....to raise her to Amyrlin of it's own accord.

Siuan still should have been allowed to kill Elaida though instead of the Suffa stuff, I will die on that hill.

#WoT #Wheel of time #WoT on Prime #Wheel of time on Prime #WoT Book Spoilers #TGS Spoilers #Siuan Sanche #Egwene al'vere #Rand al'Thor #wot meta #I'm stil baffled #months later about the reaction to Siuan's actions in episode 7 #Part of that is a 'oh everyone says they support women's wrongs until their a little mean about it' but more then that #Complex situations without easy answers causing characters to make bad choices is a STAPLE of Jordan's writing #And what Siuan does is STILL not nearly as morally grey as what Rand and Moiraine do in that same episode via recrutiing Lanfear's help #anyways everyone should go back and re-read TSR and TFOH #their great #send tumble

[amoneki-ramblings]

some random doodles that have been sitting on my computer 👍

#tokyo ghoul #tg #kaneki ken #amon koutarou #amoneki #ken kaneki #koutarou amon #my art #amoneki doodles #amon why are you so hard to draw your design is so simple Please #featuring some #amonsasa #gh. the potential of amon staying in the ccg and working with haise #i'm not complaining but it would've been very interesting y'know #the slightly awkward and somber emotional tension 👍👍 i have so many thoughts about this but i refuse to write a whole essay in the tags #i figured since i have so many doodles i might as well post some since why not hope you enjoy #amonsasa CCG AU

[fairy-writes]

Hello there 👋

I was wondering if you could write a one-shot for Uta?? Something fluffy w/ a shy/sweet human!reader 😊

Thanks in advance! 💜

DON’T YOU DARE (MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU)

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Uta x Gender Neutral!Human!Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): 

Notes: Songfic with the song “Don’t You Dare (Make Me Fall in Love with You) by Kaden MacKay

__________________________________________________________________________

When Uta first realized he was in love with you, admittedly, he panicked a little. 

You were a human. He was a ghoul. It wasn’t a relationship that was supposed to work. 

He couldn’t be in love. That was just absurd. He had more exciting things on his plate than love.

Don't you dare make me fall in love with you

Don't you dare enchant me with those eyes

If I fell through your skies,

There's no way you would catch me

There's a tear in my heart,

But your patch wouldn't match me

Uta first met you when he was at Anteiku, and you happened to walk in. It was busy. Most, if not all, of the tables were full, and when you began to approach, he got an idea of what was happening. 

“Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” You ask shyly, and he gets the feeling that you’re nervous. Which is understandable with his appearance. He was used to it. 

He nods once, and your expression relaxes as you sit down. The tenseness of your shoulders eases, and you pull out a sketchbook and flip to a new page as Touka brings over your drink. You smile at her and whisper a “thank you.”

You sketch in silence until he feels the need to have a conversation. It’s more of a whim, really, the urge to get to know a human to learn if they’re all like the CCG and Doves. 

“What are you drawing?” He asks, and you jump. But you turn around and show him nonetheless, and he’s blown away. 

It’s rough, with stray lines in some places, but it’s a perfect picture of himself, reclining in the chair and his coffee in hand.

You even got the lettering of his tattoo around his neck right.

The longer he stares, the more fidgety you become. 

“Sorry, I can get rid of it if you want. I know it might be rude to draw other people without permission—” 

“No, no, it’s beautiful. Thank you for choosing me as a model.” He finds himself saying, and his cold heart flutters when you beam. 

You end up gifting him the picture, and after you exchange names, you leave. 

He finds your number hastily scrawled at the bottom of the drawing. 

Being near you still adds to the size of my sighs,

There's still seismic events at hellos and goodbyes,

And I still need reminders of why it's unwise

To stare

So don't you dare

The longer he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of you becoming friends. You’re shy, but you’re sweet and a brilliant artist. You would be entertaining, at least. 

But he’s likely never to meet you again, so that idea snuffs out like a candle. So he doesn’t text you. 

At least until you walk into his shop. 

You are admiring one of his masks on display when he enters the room from the back. He had heard the door jingle but wanted to finish some of the final stitching of the current mask he was working on. It was for the new half-ghoul Kaneki Ken. But that was beside the point. 

What were you doing here?

Don't you dare make me fall in love with you

Don't you dare do something so cliché

Just get out of my daydreams,

You're an unwelcome guest

And stop making me miss you

'Cause you leaving's for the best

You look up as he comes in, and confusion brightens your eyes. 

“Uta?” You ask, and he nods,

“That’s me. Welcome to HySy ArtMask Studio.” He says, more out of habit than anything. You offer him a smile, and he finds his heart trembling at the sight. 

What was wrong with him?

“I heard there was a mask studio that could offer a lot of inspiration. I didn’t know you owned it.” You comment as you cradle your sketchbook against your chest. Your pencil is stuck behind your ear, and you’re dressed in a thick knit sweater and trousers. Your boots scuff against the floor. 

He finds himself gesturing to the masks. 

“Make yourself at home.” He says, genuinely meaning it. 

'Cause I just couldn't stand having you as my crutch

You're a simmering stovetop I was tempted to touch

If you ever return, it'll burn me too much

To bear

So don't you dare

After the initial text, you are really the only one keeping up the conversation. Sure, Uta replies, but he keeps a certain amount of distance between you two. Mainly for your safety. 

But for whatever reason, you keep coming back. 

Your presence becomes a regular in his shop. You come every Friday, right after your university classes. Even though you are his age, if not a year younger, you say you are working toward your bachelor’s degree in—you guessed it—art. 

You say you want to open your own shop and sell your artwork. 

Much like him. 

And I know it's all so shallow, but a shallow cut still stings

And before my heart becomes Amelia's heir, I need to clip its wings

So don't you dare keep mocking me with those

Thousand little things that I adore

Let me ignore you, don't let me care

He tries to ignore you the closer you two become. 

For your safety. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

And don't you dare leave me still in love with you

Nothing's fair when love is war

And I just can't endure any more of the fight

When the casualties rise with my heart rate each night

At first, Uta thinks he’s dying. Of course, that would explain why you always make his heart race and his blood run hot. 

That would explain why you’re always on his mind. 

Right?

Though I know I'm to blame for the glances I'd steal,

For the time I kept spending pretending it's real

And now that it's ending, I still have more feelings to spare

But don't you dare

It takes a talking to from Yomo for him to realize what’s going on. 

Don't you dare

When Uta first realized he was in love with you, admittedly, he panicked a little. 

But he doesn’t hate the idea. 

#tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul x reader #tokyo ghoul uta #tokyo ghoul uta x reader #tokyo ghoul re #tg uta #tg uta x reader #tg #uta x reader #uta x you #uta tokyo ghoul #uta tokyo ghoul x reader #fairy writes