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cheralith · 3 months

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place.

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm.

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part.

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily.

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head.

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties.

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you.

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed.

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd.

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key.

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction.

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out,

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words.

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were.

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply,

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father.

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?”

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!”

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?”

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess.

But in his daughter’s eyes…

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella.

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips.

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him.

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?”

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent.

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure.

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not.

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber.

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small.

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort.

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces.

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly.

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable.

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you.

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time.

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of.

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure.

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children?

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur.

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself.

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling.

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more.

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening.

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself.

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax.

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside.

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom.

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it.

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly.

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column.

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance.

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside.

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him.

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly.

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk.

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in.

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home.

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute.

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries.

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home.

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness.

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is?

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had.

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible.

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you.

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

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myanmy · 3 months

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Lack of Sleep

This one is made to leave you guys wanting more ;)

Summary: You can't sleep and consequently put yourself in danger.

Word count: 1531

Warnings: None

I have to thank everyone who read, liked and resposted my other one-shot. I was surprise by the amount of interactions and while it may not be a lot for other people, it is for me. Thank you so much.

Sleep has never been an easy task for you. Even before all this nightmare, the smallest of things managed to steal any chance of your brain shutting off for at least a few hours to give your body some rest. Now with the noises of those things hunting you and the fear of the smallest of noises, the chance of you getting actual sleep is the same chance you had winning the lottery and you never even bought those things, so to say that the chances were almost zero is an understatement.

The group had taken in you a few months ago. You had always been more of a reserved person, so you hadn’t particularly made any friends. No one bothered you and you bothered no one. You were called in almost every run, somewhere in your life you had learned to be very quick and silent and that was useful. In almost every of those runs you had the same people accompanying you, mainly Daryl, Gleen, Michonne and the leader Rick. You had taken a liking to all of them, each having something to add to the group and together you had managed to go on some of the most successful runs.

Today was one of the days you didn't manage to catch a blink of sleep and were called to go on a run. You splashed some water on your face, hoping to get rid of the tired look, but unfortunately it didn’t do much. You walk out of the prison, seeing some of your colleagues near the truck you're going on today. Glenn muttered a ‘good morning’ while Michonne gave you a simple nod. You were somewhat grateful for them not doing small talk, the lack of sleep and the warm sun shining light on your face doing nothing to better your mood. Not long after Daryl and Rick walk out, heading towards the truck and with that all of you get inside. Luckily you’re sitting on the window side, giving you something to lean your head on which you gladly do. You remembered how in the old times the sound of the engine and the gentle rocking of a car would get you to sleep within seconds and for a while you let yourself go back to those moments, where the most serious thing you had to worry about were your grades or what you would have to do in the future. You open your eyes a few seconds later, reminding yourself that’s unfortunately long gone and immediately the first thing you see is a walker stumbling through the street trying to get to the truck only to be left behind.

The run had gone surprisingly well, that is, for the others, for you it had been another story. You had separated to make the run faster, Daryl and Glenn had searched the front of the market where most things were and with least walkers while you, Michonne and Rick had searched the back where there were a few more walkers, but had valuable things. You had stumbled more than you would like to admit and nearly got bit a few times, with Rick's help you ended up only with a few scratches from the stumbles and not a single bite, you honestly had no idea how you had done it. Apparently all the nights not slept were catching up to you. Unbeknownst to you, Rick had noticed. On the drive back you weren’t able to handle the tiredness and fell asleep. Rick sat in the passenger seat and kept looking back at you, looking for any wounds or bites and just checking if you were still asleep. He thought about making an excuse to have to drive a little more, seeing that you had found solace in the car and he understood why, as his own son also got sleepy during rides, but he knew there wasn't any and could only hope you would be able to find sleep again back in the prison.

As soon as the car stopped your eyes shot open, seeing you were back inside the prison gates. As everyone got out you saw people coming to welcome the group, Maggie practically jumping on Glenn, Carol walking to Daryl and starting a conversation while Carl jumped and hugged his dad. You and Michonne had no one in particular to say hi to, so you both walked side by side inside the prison, separating when going to your cells. You enjoyed Michonne’s company, you two practically never talked and that’s why you liked her, you were able to enjoy silence with someone and while that may seem weird to other people, it wasn’t for the two of you.

After the small nap in the truck you thought sleep would find you and for once it almost did, that was until you heard a small noise of something dropping and your eyes flew open. You knew it was most definitely someone walking and lost their hold on their cup or something like that, but your brain had already awakened and it wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. You laid in your bed, looking up at the ceiling, no thoughts running through your head. Eventually you grew tired of waiting for something that you knew wasn’t going to arrive, so slowly you stood up, trying to make no noise. It’s not because you weren’t able to sleep that you had to take someone else’s sleep.

Just by walking outside into the fresh air made you feel a lot better, you looked up to the sky and were greeted by the moon standing proudly on the sky with stars surrounding it and you smiled. It was a tiny smile, but it was something.

“Pretty, righ’?” The thick southern voice speaks from behind you, startling you. “Sorry.” He says, stepping beside you.

“It’s fine.” You answer, feeling your heart slow down. Rick had this thing to him that made you feel safe, you couldn’t really explain it, but you felt it.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, his face turned to the sky.

“No, you?” You wonder, knowing Rick wasn’t on patrol tonight.

“Saw you leaving.” Your expression turns into a confusing one and he gets the hint and continues talking. “On the run today, you were acting weird. You got in danger way too many times, what’s going on?”

You sigh, not really wanting to talk about it, but he was the leader, he had brought you in and given you food and a roof. “I’ve been having a hard time sleeping, that’s all.”

He nods and hums in understatement. “You are safe here. Those things out there are scary, but if you’re going to fight them, you have to be strong to do it. You’re one of our best and you’re needed, so please, take care of yourself and rest.”

You let out a chuckle at that. “You have a better chance at knocking me out, that way you’ll be sure I'll get my share of sleep.” The man lets out a laugh, one that makes your stomach do funny things.

“What keeps you up?” He asks, trying to find some way to help you.

“The fear, the nightmare and mainly the noises. Every little snap gets my heart racing.” You confess, something that only Rick would manage to make you do.

He sighs, looking at the sky again, seeming to be thinking. “The cell next to mine is empty.” He mutters, in a tone of a simple observation. You start thinking about it and come to the conclusion that it may help you. Rick is the leader, he is intelligent, quick and strong, that much you knew. It definitely wouldn’t hurt having someone like that next to you, the only divider being a thin wall.

“Can I…” You hesitate, feeling silly, then his eyes leave the sky and meet yours. He had yet to figure you out, but he had come to learn a few things about you and one of them was that you did not like to appear small or fragile to people.

“Sure, it'll be easier for me to knock you out if you’re there.” He jokes and you can’t stop the laugh bubbling through you.

“Thank you Rick-” You mutter, your voice low. “-for everything.” You add, not looking him in the eyes.

“It’s no problem.” He says and puts his hand on your shoulder squeezing it, reassuring you. He follows you to your cell and helps you move the little things that belonged to you to the one next to his, your hands accidentally brushing against each other a few times and you try your hardest to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Good night…” He mutters your name with that thick accent of his, his voice low, trying not to disturb anyone.

“Good night Rick.” A small smile makes its way in Rick’s lips and you can’t help but return it. That night you fell asleep and had one of the best possible dreams ever, with Rick placing his hands not only on your shoulder but throughout your whole body and later cuddling you on his chest while you listened to his heartbeat.

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x you #rick grimes #no use of y/n #rick grimes imagine #rick x reader #fluff #rick grimes fluff #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine

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hillbilly---man · 4 days

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A list of the specific chronic illness/disability-related things in Saiki K that resonate with me personally

(Your mileage may vary, my experiences are not universal, I recognize that some of this is kind of a reach etc etc)

The limiters

Saiki’s powers have grown too strong for him to control, and before the creation of his limiters they were out of control and causing a lot of damage. Some examples cited include accidentally destroying his house in his sleep and having telepathy that reached all over Japan (something I imagine was many many times more distressing [disabling] than his current situation) The limiters weaken his psychic powers and keep them somewhat in check. It’s not perfect, and he still does have problems, but the situation is much worse without them.

This reminds me of the medication I take to keep my immune system under control. Before I started it, my immune system (thanks to MS) was causing lots of issues for me: it took the vision in my left eye, made it difficult to walk and use my arm for a few months, caused horrible leg spasms, et cetera. My medicine helps keep things in check and hopefully prevents future damage... But nothing is perfect. Of course, it’s a monthly shot instead of silly pink balls on my head! So that's a plus 👍

The way he struggles to control his body after Nendo removed his limiter unexpectedly

After being hit with a shock to his system at the sports festival, Saiki struggles harder than usual to control his strength. We see him frustrated with this as he’s eating, his hand trembling as he holds his chopsticks. He tries to power through, but the issues don’t resolve.

I’m fortunate to usually be pretty functional most days (I do have my bad days though lol). However, when I go through significant stress - either mental or physical - it makes a lot of issues pop up that usually don’t bother me. Balance issues, vision stuff.. And hand tremors. Like, I was at a sushi restaurant after getting overheated at the pride festival last year struggling a lil with my chopsticks laughing at myself like “this is just like Saiki at the sports festival…”

Developing new powers unexpectedly

A major source of stress for Saiki is being unpleasantly surprised by a new psychic ability. In the series, we see this a few times. The most notable to me is the time leap ability. He wakes up having accidentally traveled 20 years in the past (soon after it is revealed that his limiter has a defective part). Afterward, we learn when he’s stuck in the time loops with Nendo and Kaido that this time leap ability has been coming back randomly since then “As unexpected and frequent as getting the hiccups”. He spends the entire chapter trying to get control over this ability so he can continue his day as planned. In another chapter, his limiter is malfunctioning and he develops a series of useless powers that he cannot control. Clearly, the limiters are preventing new powers from developing (see my first bullet point!!)

So, another thing about conditions such as mine is that you really can just wake up one day and have some weird symptom you’ve never heard of before! I remember not long after my first big attack I was at Walmart and I just noticed that my index finger was completely numb, and it stayed that way for weeks. One time, my upper lip twitched constantly for like a month straight. Of course, more than just the relatively silly symptoms can and do pop up like that, too. For example, I had these really scary, uncontrollable spasms on my left side (paroxysmal kinesigenic dyskinesia) that happened several times a day for about a week. For a LONG time afterward I would be terrified of them coming back. It's still in the back of my mind but I'm not losing sleep over it anymore at least. Reading those panels above re: the time leap stuff reminds me a lot of that time!

Neuroplasticity and the power remover device

When Kusuke is explaining how the power remover works, he talks about how the brain rewires itself around damaged areas to compensate. The device is designed to more completely destroy the areas of his brain responsible for the psychic abilities. Of course, the device ultimately did not work permanently. The damage it did to his brain was quickly compensated for, and the abilities returned.

When small areas of the brain are damaged (such as… due to a neurodegenerative autoimmune condition), over time the brain can often restructure to work around it. It doesn’t mean that those areas are healed, and the process is often incomplete, but that rewiring can (completely or partially) restore abilities and function that was lost in the damage. They don’t say that explicitly in the series, but that’s surely what is happening to Saiki in the final chapters! Except, you know, in a magical shonen manga way.

Resistance to the idea of needing help

After Saiki uses the power remover device, he loses his abilities and is suddenly much weaker and less capable than he was before. He was used to being extremely independent, but this change has brought him to a place where he cannot do everything on his own anymore. In the library, he struggles to get a book off the top shelf and in the process is reminded of his new limitations. He says to himself “What am I doing…!? Just get used to it already!” After the bookcase is tipped over onto him and Nendo protects him, Saiki is upset about having to be protected when he never needed it before: “I’m so useless now…” Nendo helps him realize that getting help from others is normal.

Helping each other out is one of the most fundamentally important parts of being human, but it can be hard to accept that support sometimes. This is especially the case when you’re thinking about the prospect of needing more help than you used to. I'm fortunate to be relatively unaffected most of the time so far, but I'm still grateful for when the people I love are understanding and don't make a big deal out of it. I hate the idea of being burdensome so I'm just gonna cross my fingers and hope things don't get worse lol

Conclusion: Saiki is just like me for real and I'm DEFINITELY not projecting my own problems into him at all...

we're ignoring the 20k word fic I wrote where I blatantly projected my problems onto him for seven chapters

thanks @justmagicalgirl for encouraging me last week to post this 👍

#this has been sitting in the drafts for almost a year so enjoy #been a little shy to post it because I've convinced myself that 'nobody asked' lol #saiki #saiki kusuo no psi nan #tdlosk #lmfaoo whooops I didn't mean to hit 'post' yet but i guess now is as good a time as any 😅

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rorywritesjunk · 6 months

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No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you’re fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn’t want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn’t necessarily take husband’s feelings into account as well.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I’m just trying to vibe off what I’ve seen of Kid Buggy. I’m no expert. I’d protect that kid with my life. He’s so adorable. I also like the trope of “Meeting your self from another time” and “gets turned back into kid-self”. This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don’t know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @misadventures0fdes @sylum @valen-yamyam16 @dohkyu

Chapter 2

Your husband refused to speak to you until the kid was gone, but you weren’t going to put up with this. Instead, you carried on like normal, taking the kid with you as you did your tasks around the ship, giving him a tour, and when it was dinner time, you fixed his favorite meal. However, when your husband came into the kitchen, he was glaring at you.

“What’s he still doing here?”

You crossed your arms and stared at him. “I’m feeding him dinner because I’m not going to let this kid go hungry because you think he’s a kelpie or omen or whatever is rattling around in that brain of yours.” With a huff, you grabbed two plates and piled them both with food before placing them on the table. Kid Buggy was already seated, watching Adult Buggy cautiously. His clothes weren’t dry yet from earlier and he didn’t want to go for another swim.

Your husband grumbled and took a seat, glaring down at his plate of food. At least you cooked his favorite meal, must be to make up for this crap he’s having to deal with. He sighed and picked up his fork before he started to shovel food into his mouth. You rolled your eyes and fixed your own plate. Kid Buggy immediately started to do the same as his adult counterpart. His eyes lit up and he looked at you excitedly.

“This is my favorite!” He said with his mouth full of food. “How’d you know?!”

You just shrugged and smiled at him as you sat down between them at the head of the table, handing the kid and your husband each a napkin. It was a lost cause because neither of them took it from you so you set it down beside them. You tried to make an effort. “I know everything.”

Kid Buggy looked between you and your husband; Adult Buggy did the same. It was weirdly intriguing and adorable to you. You ate your own food, not looking at either of them. Once your plate was clean you picked up your husband’s napkin and leaned over to wipe his face; he rolled his eyes, mumbling something about pirates and not being scary. The kid narrowed his eyes at the two of you as you leaned over to do the same for him.

“You both wear your food as much as eat it, you know.” You chuckled as you wiped the kid’s face, and to your surprise, he allowed it a second time. Your husband was used to it by now. He may be a pirate but you still wanted him to be somewhat clean, even if it was just using a damn napkin from time to time. “Now, sweetie, remember the conversation from earlier, about who this man across from you is?”

Kid Buggy shrugged and set his fork down. “You said it’s me from the future, but I don’t like this, I don’t want to be some loser like him.”

“You little-”

“Buggy.” You shot your husband a look. “This is you as a kid, so you can’t be mad if he’s sassy to you.”

“He isn’t me!” Adult Buggy insisted. “Stop saying that!”

“Honey, it is, I know it.” You assured him. “I'll take care of him and get it all figured out, okay? I promise.”

Your husband crossed his arms and glared at you. You just smiled sweetly at him. You would figure it out, no matter what.

“No.”

“Buggy-”

“This is my bed.”

“And I share it with you.”

Your husband stood at your side of the bed, glaring down at you and the sleeping figure beside you. There was no way you were going to allow the kid to sleep with the crew, and while you didn’t talk about the sleeping arrangements first with your husband, you also couldn’t find him to talk about it. He had disappeared after dinner, grumbling once again about kelpies, omens, selkies, whatever. You didn’t even know at this point. So after you got yourself and Kid Buggy ready for bed, you let the kid tell you another story about his adventures as an apprentice before he fell asleep nearing the end of his tale. It was kind of cute.

“Just for the night.” You told Buggy as he stormed over to his side of the bed. “Buggy, why are you so upset by this?”

“You brought something onto the ship!” He hissed at you as he threw the covers back and climbed under them. “We don’t know what this is!”

“It’s you, Buggy.” You sighed as you looked down at the sleeping kid. He was sprawled out beside you, snoring loudly. It reminded you of someone else you knew. “He mentioned being an apprentice on the Oro Jackson, and… and you know weird things like this can happen!”

“Not weird like this!” He shot back. “I’m going to sleep and when I wake up that kid better be gone. I don’t care where you take him, he has to be gone.”

He turned his back to you after that and pulled the covers over his head. Okay, you weren’t really bothered by that reaction. He was upset over this but you wanted to know why. What made him so certain this wasn’t him as a kid? It made you wonder if something happened to your husband as a kid to get him this freaked out. Your husband could be stubborn but you were determined. You carefully crawled over the sleeping kid and slipped under the covers behind your husband, stretching out behind him as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Buggy, tell me what’s wrong, please.” You murmured in his ear. You felt his body stiffen up, whether from the question or you suddenly being right there, you weren’t sure, but you needed to know. “You… you seem scared.”

He turned and glared at you but you didn’t back down. “I’m not talking about it.”

Oh, well…

You rested your chin against his shoulder. “I think there’s something to talk about, honey.”

He scoffed and looked away from you, but he didn’t shy away from your touch. You leaned over to kiss his cheek, hoping that might help him relax enough to start talking to you. Clearly there was something about having Kid Buggy here that was bothering him more than the kid just “being a curse or bad omen”. It made you wonder of the possibility of other universes, alternate realities, but then you remember hearing those stories from the drunk sailors and pirates, and really, you heard enough of those stories from different places that it had to be a possibility.

“Buggy, did something happen to you when you were that age?” You asked. He tensed up once more and you loosened your hold on him, but he sighed heavily and relaxed in your arms. “Honey?”

“Stop talking and go to sleep.” Buggy replied wearily. “Please, it’s late.”

Oh, he said please to you, that meant something. You knew when to stop, and if he was using words like that it meant you had to back off, so you did. You kissed his cheek again and pulled the covers around the two of you tightly.

“I love you so much, Captain.” You whispered in his ear. “You’re the fiercest pirate on the seas, and no one ever stands a chance against the future King of the Pirates.”

That did the trick. He rolled over and wrapped himself around you, head tucked under your chin as he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as you ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. You’d have to try and ask him again tomorrow. Maybe you could get him and the kid to interact without insults and threats.

Kid Buggy, however, had stirred and woken up at that moment, hearing you say the words ‘Captain’ and ‘King of the Pirates’. Now he was more confused than ever.

You were the first one awake, which wasn’t a surprise, but what was a surprise was you were surrounded on both sides. Your husband was clinging to you like a damn octopus, arms and legs wrapped around you with his head resting against your chest. The kid was curled up beside you and your arm was holding him against your side. Did he move in his sleep or did you? It was hard to tell but you didn’t think too long at that moment. You needed to get up and start breakfast.

Not to mention they were both snoring. The kid at least was nowhere near your ear, but your husband moved in his sleep and suddenly he was snoring right in your ear. Okay, that was enough. You suddenly sat up, jostling them both awake, and their matching sleepy expressions were quite adorable.

“Good morning!” You giggled, leaning over to kiss your husband on the cheek before turning to give Kid Buggy a kiss on the forehead. You pretended not to notice the smug look on your husband’s face at being the first to get attention, but you figured the kid wouldn’t care. “I’m going to get breakfast started, okay? Both of you get dressed and come find me in a bit.”

You got up before either could respond, throwing on your clothes for the day and hurrying out the door. Hopefully your husband wouldn’t throw the kid overboard again but you knew not to hold your breath. Maybe they could have a bonding moment, or Buggy could talk to his kid self or vice versa, who knew, but you wanted your husband to be honest about why this was so upsetting and stressful for him.

They finally joined you fifteen minutes later. Kid Buggy’s clothes were finally dry, so he put those back on. Your husband had his jacket and hat on, looking every bit the dashing and handsome captain that he is. You brought him a cup of coffee and kissed his cheek, complimenting on how handsome he looked this morning. He leaned back in his seat with a smirk; the kid just looked between the two of you.

“So… do I become a captain?” He asked; you both turned to look at him. “I heard you talking last night.”

“Oh!” You poured him a cup of juice and brought it over to him, giving your husband a look that said please please be quiet and don’t interrupt let me just explain something to the kid. “Um, yes. You become a captain with your own crew and everything!”

His eyes widened and he looked at Buggy. Your husband was watching you carefully, but he said nothing. The kid actually looked impressed by that. “Is this my ship?”

“My ship.” Buggy told him, narrowing his eyes. “I worked hard to get where I am.”

“But if I’m you then it’s also my ship.” The kid said with a smug look, crossing his arms as he looked back at the captain. You chuckled softly as you served them both breakfast; eggs, toast, and potatoes. The two Buggys locked eyes for a moment before both picking up their forks and shoveling food into their mouths. It was quite a sight to see how in sync they were with their movements. You finally sat down with your own plate.

“You have to work hard to get where he is.” You said, pointing from the kid to your husband. “It didn’t happen overnight. It took a lot of work and sacrifice, y’know, usual stuff.”

“Wow.” Kid Buggy grinned. “Do me and Shanks have the ship together? Is he a part of the crew too? Where’s he at?”

Your husband stopped eating and set the fork down. He pushed back from the table and walked out of the room. It was surprising that he didn’t blow up at the kid, but you were grateful that he didn’t. The kid looked at you with a frown.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing.” You assured him. “We can talk about it later, I promise, but we got chores to do after breakfast.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x you #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x reader #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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pinkroseblooms · 4 months

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Could you do a Mataka x reader x slight creepy Shindo. The reader is Arajins sister that just got discharged from the hospital and is cleared to go to school. (They are part of the reason their family moved back) They’ve had a childhood crush on Mataka, but they met Shindo in a book store. He thinks winning Arajin is through his sister, or threaten them.

This got my brain buzzing with ideas! Here's the first part, I'll probably break it down to 3 parts total!

A Chance Meeting and a Declaration of Protection?!

Summary: You've come back to your old hometown for a fresh start and a shot at a normal life; too bad being reunited with your childhood crush and attracting the attention of an unhinged gang leader is proving a detriment to your health in more ways than one! wc: 2.3 A/N: This takes place in an AU without honki people/magic, and tw for future chapters for Shindo being a creep/yandere coded because...I mean come on. Makatara/f!Reader/Shindo (mostly one sided though)

“Come on, just a little more…”

Standing on your tiptoes, you stretch your arm as high as you can, but the novel atop the highest shelf is still out of reach.

“Ugh, I should have asked Macchan to come and help me.”

“My, my, what do we have here?”

You feel a presence behind you before you hear their voice; at first you had assumed Arajin had returned to the bookstore to walk you home. Your mother had made him your personal escort of sorts and your brother had obeyed, walking you to and from the few places you felt well enough to explore.

After spending so much time in a hospital bed, being outside was almost overwhelming, but you also felt restless. When you found out your favorite bookstore was still open after all these years, you could have cried. Now as you stand on somewhat wobbly legs, vision a touch fuzzy, the last thing you need is stress. Where was Arajin? And who was this strange man smirking at you like you were some amusing joke?

“You must realize the owner has a ladder for this exact reason.”

“Huh?”

He taps the spine of the book, easily reaching over your head. “This book, you want it, yes?”

“Oh, yes.” You nod, somewhat hesitantly; your eyes scan the aisle, but it would seem there’s no one else around. Briefly, your eyes linger on his braided hair and light eyes; he wasn’t wearing a school uniform, just a plain, gray sweatshirt and matching pants. You were certain he was around your age though.

“What are you staring at?”

“Oh sorry, I was thinking, um, did you want the book?” You smile apologetically, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t obvious. “I didn’t mean to be in the way.”

“No, no, I was amused by you hopping like a bunny.”

Your smile falls. “Uh, I guess I’ll just go on and ask for assistance then-”

But the stranger takes the book, holds it up over your head with a sickly sweet smile.

“I wouldn’t leave a lady struggling. Here, take it.”

“Oh, thank you.”

But before you can take the book, he holds it up even higher. You frown, confused; is he just messing with you?

“I thought you were giving me the book?”

“Isn’t it a bit rude to ask for favors from a stranger?” He asks innocently. “My name is Shindo Akutaro; might I ask for your name?”

“Tomoshibi.” You say curtly. “May I please have that book, Shindo-san?”

“I suppose.”

The book is unceremoniously dropped and you fail to catch it; the novel lands on the hard tiled floor and you slowly kneel to pick it up. Bending and stooping too quickly makes you light headed and your limbs feel like noodles at the least bit of sudden motion.

“You don’t need to kneel before me for such a small favor.”

Shindo’s smile widens until you see his canines; he looks down at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes shining with an odd sort of glee, as though you’re doing something very silly and he has to hold back laughter. You straighten up, standing up too quickly; for a second, you teeter on unsteady feet and your hand grabs the shelf for support.

“You look very pale; are you sick? In that case, maybe you ought to be home, not hopping around.”

“I spent enough time cooped up.” You rub your forehead gently with your fingers, holding the book to your chest. “I should be able to manage shopping for a book.”

It’s more than your desire to purchase a new novel though; this book store is a place of comfort. You used to spend hours either browsing the selection or sitting in the cafe area to read the newest addition to your collection. It wasn’t like you could run around with Arajin and Matakara, as badly as you wanted to. Even now, you’ve only just begun to feel what you assume for others is something like “normal”.

“It’s not funny.”

Shindo blinks, looking vaguely perturbed as you stare up at him defiantly; suddenly, you feel very irritated. Whether it’s due to his prior teasing or your own frustration, you’re not sure.

“Thanks, I suppose, for getting the book.” You say quietly. “But I don’t appreciate a perfect stranger laughing at me. I never asked to be sick and I didn’t ask for your help. Excuse me, but my brother will be here soon to take me home and I need to go buy this.”

With a slight nod, you scurry away to the register on the other side of the store; as he hands you the receipt and your new book, a soft chime signals someone has entered the store. You turn around, met with the sight of a disgruntled Arajin and-

“Macchan?” You almost drop your bag and wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“I bumped into Ara-chan, so I thought I’d tag along.” Matakara waves with a sunny smile. “You’re doing okay? You haven’t had to go back to the hospital or anything?”

“I told you she was fine.” Arajin walks over to you and takes your hand. “Come on, let’s get going,”

“You’re in a hurry for someone who was late to get me.”

“Mom asked me to pick up a few things for dinner.” Arajin explains with a sigh, leading you to the sliding doors, Matakara following behind dutifully. “I figured you’d want more time anyway; you could have called.”

“You could have called if you were going to be gone later.” You grumble, slipping your hand from his grasp. “Arajin, slow down, I can’t walk that fast.”

“Do you want me to take that?” Matakara comes to your side. “Here, let me carry your bag. You look kinda pale.”

“So I’ve heard.” You sigh; of course he had to come and see you winded from the most menial task. “Thanks Macchan, but I got it.”

“Come on, we need to get home.” Arajin gives Matakara a look. “Don’t you have to get going too?”

“I can stay.” Matakara turns to you. “You don’t mind, do you? I feel like we haven’t had a chance to catch up since you moved back. It’s been too long.”

“No kidding; honestly I almost didn’t recognize you when you came to visit.” You chuckle and pat the top of Matakara’s head. “I used to be taller than you.”

“Um, yeah.”

Matakara’s face flushes a bit; it’s nice to see he hasn’t changed too much from the bashful sweetheart you remember. Now, if only you had changed as much; you both envy and admire your old friend’s strong build.

“Don’t strain yourself too much tomorrow.” Arajin looks over his shoulder at you; he’s still looking a bit grumpy, but his eyes soften as they meet yours. “My class is basically across the hall from you and the teacher’s already know what to expect.”

“I know, I’ll be okay!”

You sound more confident than you feel; from what Arajin has said about his time attending the academy, the place sounds less like an institution of education and more a playground for delinquents. Still, you have limited options and if you have to attend a school in the area, you feel better knowing at least two people already.

“I’m in the same class as Ara-chan; you can come to me if there’s a problem. If you want to.” Matakara says with an oddly serious expression. “I’ll be there, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“I’m not worried.” You lie, your smile feeling like a mask stretched over your face. “Thank you, Macchan. I don’t want to bother you though, you and Arajin have your own lives. I’m sure I’ll be totally fine. I’m so pitiful, even bullies don’t want to bug me.”

“No you’re not.” Matakara frowns. “You’re not pitiful, you're strong. I always thought so. You should too.”

You’re not sure how to respond; Arajin makes a choking sound deep from his throat and puts his hands over his ears.

“Ugh, I can not listen to this! You two walk back together, I’m going on ahead.”

“Huh?!”

“Arajin!” You gap as your brother stalks off down the sidewalk without a glance back at you. “That little shit! He’s lucky I can’t chase him down. Ugh, sorry Macchan, he’s being such a brat.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“It is not.” You huff, crossing your arms, glaring at the dot that’s now Arajin’s head. “He’s been on edge ever since we came back. I get him being angry with me, but you haven’t done anything.”

“Why would Ara-chan be angry with you?”

“Not me exactly, just,” You unfold your arms and they hang at your sides. “A big reason we came back was for my treatment. Mom’s settled in fine but Arajin…it’s not my place to speak for him, but I know being here is frustrating.”

“But it’s not your fault you’re sick.”

“Still, I think…he’d never say so, but I think he resents me. Arajin always has to deal with mom putting me first because of my poor health.”

Arajin never says it, but you can tell he gets frustrated; he never asked for a sister who constantly needed to be minded and tended to. Even now as you’ve gotten older, he’s still being pushed into the role of caretaker. You don’t want him to feel like he’s responsible for how you do when you go back to attending in person classes.

“He brings a lot of it on himself, but I know he worries about me. Anyway, I don’t want to burden him or you.” You muster up a genuine smile. “I’m going to take it one day at a time, but I can do this. I have to at least try; I can’t let it all be for nothing.”

“You,” Matakara pauses, gazing at you with wide eyes and parted lips. “You haven’t changed at all.”

You can’t help snort. “Seriously? I know I said I wanted to toughen up and all, but-”

“You’ve gotten even cooler.”

Maybe it’s a good thing Arajin decided to leave the two of you in the dust; if he saw the way Matakara was staring at you, you might have had Arajin ready to drag you away. Before you can say anything, Matakara gently takes the bag from your loosened grip.

“For the record, I never thought looking after you was a burden. I want you to ask me for help. Matakara confesses shyly. “I’m stronger now.”

“I noticed.” Your eyes flicker to his arms; his muscles are basically straining against the thin cotton of his worn t-shirt. “Are you sure? I really don’t have trouble carrying something that small.”

“I want to!” Matakara insists; he almost whines and your heart skips a beat as he pouts down at you. “I could even carry you if you needed me to.”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” At this point the thought of your crush carrying you around in his absurdly strong arms is making you so lightheaded, you might end up needing to be hauled home anyway. On the bright side, you doubt you’re looking pallid; heat radiates from your face as Matakara walks with you. He walks in time with your steps; if you asked, he would probably take your hand to lead you home.

“I bet you’re really popular.” You nudge his shoulder. “Arajin told me you’re like, a class leader or something?”

“He did?”

“Uh huh. But don’t tell him I told you.” You put a finger to your lips. “If you do, I’ll tell him about how you cried after stealing one of my horror novels.”

“I didn’t know it was a scary book! I thought it was about a magic doll.”

“To be fair, it was brought to life with occult magic. I still can’t believe you threw out my baby doll.”

“...I thought it would come to life and haunt you.”

“That’s right, I was so mad!” You recall with a giggle. “Do dolls still freak you out?”

“No...”

“Aw,” You feel a bit guilty at the kicked puppy dog look on Matakara’s face. “I’m sorry for teasing you.”

Matakara remains silent for a few seconds and you feel anxious: was that too far? It had been a long time since the two of you were able to talk like this. Perhaps you were getting ahead of yourself, acting so familiar with him.

“Matakara? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hassle you. I won’t actually tell Arajin about the doll thing.”

“It’s not that.”

Matakara fidgets with the handle of the shopping bag; the sun is setting now. The soft golden light makes his eyes almost sparkle; as if getting enough oxygen wasn’t already a concern. Now you had to have your breath stolen by the warm gaze holding your attention captive.

“It’s just…I don’t want you to think of me that way. I’m not that weak cry baby anymore.”

“I never thought you were.” You tell him earnestly. “I shouldn’t have teased you.”

“You really don’t get it.” Matakara’s voice lowers. “Even though you were so sick, you looked out for me. Now I want to do that for you. I want you to see me as someone strong you can depend on.”

“Macchan, you don’t have to look out for me: that’s not your responsibility.”

“Do I…look different to you?”

“What?”

Matakara inches a bit closer, as if he's afraid to startle you, before taking yours hands in his own. You can feel callouses on his warm palms are warm; his cheeks are pink and his stare is hard with determination. Abruptly, you're reminded of that tenderhearted boy who would rush to your side every time you so much as hinted at being fatigued.

"Do you trust me?"

"O-of course." You study his urgent gaze warily. "I always have."

“I could-no. I will protect you. If anyone tries to bother you tomorrow, you come straight to me. I’ll deal with them. I'll be there; as long as you can trust in that, I can only get stronger." Matakara squeezes your hands gently. "Believe in me and I'll protect you with that strength."

You’re taken aback; you’ve never heard Matakara speak this way to you or at all. Not that you don’t appreciate it; on the contrary, your tummy is doing somersaults. With that said, you can’t help wondering: just how much did your friend change these past few years? And what exactly is he expecting he’ll need to protect you from?

#bucchigiri?!#matakara asamine #arajin tomoshibi #akutaro shindo #reader insert #fem reader #x reader #alternate universe #tw yandere #eventually #matakara asamine x reader #akutaro shindo x reader

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jarviscockerssecrethusband · 3 months

Text

Billy discovered the Roman centurion lying on the floor of a public bathroom just outside New Jersey. Then he was almost stabbed.

It was Halloween so Billy assumed he was just drunk and really committed to the bit. He made quite a dashing Roman solider, with strong arms and calves Billy could definitely see himself getting behind (or kneeling for in a similar situation). After the fourth attempt to talk ending in loud angry Latin, Billy thought there was something else going on. Something bigger.

Walking into the nearest hospital after the centurion promptly collapsed, Billy found that the guy had absolutely no medical records, no birth certificate, no drivers licence and no passport. He continued to yell at anyone and everyone in the ER reception and promptly fell into the revolving doors.

Well, it seemed like Billy had accidentally gained a pet Roman for the foreseeable future. Great. At least he wasn’t as tentacle-y as the mind flayer had been.

Steve, as Billy had nicknamed him, was a piece of work. He made no attempt to communicate with Billy until the second week of them living together. Then he just pointed insistently at the grapes in the fruit bowl, like he expected Billy to feed them to him. Billy just chose to roll his eyes and let Steve throw a tantrum in the kitchen.

By the third week, Billy was starting to feel like the worlds worst Catholic for understanding absolutely not one word of Latin. Argyle had retained some knowledge and Billy found out that most of what Steve talked about was either his horse, his toga or his sword, which Billy had locked up in a cabinet.

He was also quite possibly the most flirtatious man Billy had ever met, and Billy had spent his late teens roaming the clubs of WeHo. Constantly squeezing Billy’s biceps or trying to climb into his lap. Billy couldn’t exactly say he was mad at it. He’d been having a pretty impressive dry spell apart from fast and disappointing hookups. Still, there was a part of him that felt guilty.

Steve could have a wife back in 2 AD or whenever he came from. Boyfriend. Whatever. It was a pretty weird fear to be having considering how consistently Steve had been coming into him but it stayed. Lingering in his brain. Like concrete.

Billy’s best and most exaggerated sign language didn’t help shit. Steve just briefly looked confused and then went straight back to flirting with him. Hard. That was a pretty good sign of what Steve wanted.

Then Billy made a mistake.

Steve had actually said Billy’s name for the first time. He’d been trying to learn English, if somewhat rudimentary and Billy liked to think, for him. There’d just been such a surge of emotion rushing through his head that he ran up, clasped Steve’s face and then they were kissing.

Then they slept together.

Shit.

It was really good but Billy had no idea where to go from here. Steve obviously thought they were a thing but how to clarify what thing exactly Steve thought they were when Steve hadn’t mastered much past, yes, no and pretty much every swear word?

But then he found himself looking over at Steve’s sleeping face, body wedged between Billy’s arms, and found that he couldn’t really make himself care that much.

Steve liked him. He liked Steve. Why worry?

They’d be fine

@hephaestn @bigdumbbambieyes I promised I’d tag you in my first ficlet after deactivating intothedysphoria, I hope you like it!

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington

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bonesandthebees · 3 months

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Okay fuck it. I think scrolling for hours today is enough DJFKGKFK I'll just log back out. I wanna focus my energy on more positive things

Im so gonna log back in the minute my friend sends me another tweet but HDKGKGKD no. I will do my best. He's not worth our time man.

Okay one more tiny rant about him and then I promise I'll stop I just OOOHHMYGODHFJGKG HE JUST. I had so much hope. That. He would reply and it wouldn't fix things, I wouldn't go back to watching him or anything but at the very least I could get closure that like? Maybe his closer friends would be able to heal and move on? Idk if that's parasocial or whatever but he was such a big role model for me the past few years I really had hope that at least some parts of it were real, you know? And instead we just find out that he not only did these shitty things but didn't fucking learn and did it to other people too and??? It's really really upsetting that he created this safe space, this community of people who were all so lovely while just being. Fake. The whole time. And he doesn't even have the gull to properly apologise and I just??#?# idk what to do with my emotions LMFAO I'd finally started to feel better and like move on but now today I'm just angry again grgrgfhfjdkdk and I totally get that like him being a complete dickhead is easier in a lot of ways bc there's no. Doubting it. Or anything. Like there's no redeeming him. And we can get closure from that. But fuckkk it hurts so badly and the tl is a mess of ppl being like "well this person would never do me wrong" and then ppl being like "fuck every YouTuber ever actually. We can't ever be sure we know them" and LIKE!$?_?$?

Dude I am so conflicted on so many levels rn I feel like my entire world has just been yeeted into the sun LMFAODKFKFKFK

Anyways. Anyways. Thank you bee. Ur tumblr is the only account w a brain rn fr lmfaodjfkfkfks

I get it, I'm fucking furious at him. he had a chance to at least own up to what he did. I wouldn't have gone back to consuming his content, but I could be somewhat at peace knowing he was taking steps towards being better.

I don't want to think it was all a lie, because abusers aren't all completely evil people. the thing is, wilbur is human. a very shitty human, but human nonetheless. and we can't know for sure how healthy or unhealthy every relationship in his life has ever been and I think overanalyzing that or trying to figure out what was fake and what was real isn't really our business or worth our time. wilbur is a guy who has hurt a lot of people, but also refuses to recognize the hurt he's caused. that's it.

I do hate the dichotomy I'm seeing between people trying to prop up their own favorite white boys on a pedestal because apparently people never learn, but also going out and saying every content creator is inherently evil and we shouldn't trust any of them. these people are human. they're all going to fuck up at some point, some worse than others. and sometimes they'll fuck up in a way that they can move past and we can forgive them for, and other times they'll fuck up in a way that shows they shouldn't have the platform they have. they're not all terrible, and they're not all perfect. that's what we should be keeping in mind for the future.

#ask #icyfox17 #wilbur situation

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rarepears · 1 year

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Concubine Shen Jiu AU

I just really really want to read a time traveling AU where Shen Jiu decides that he’s going to be a concubine instead of going (back) to Cang Qiong and how better to hide than being a concubine of some rich lord who’s not allowed out of the house without being covered and guarded by a dozen guards?

It’s turns out that he really enjoys this kind of lifestyle. The rich lord he's caught himself for as a husband spoils and pampers him very well and he’s the only concubine in the estate. It also helps that he’s the only lover of the rich lord period. He doesn't have to content with any officials wives and his husband's parents are surprisingly open minded, like him, and seem to have no plans on pushing proper ladies onto his husband to marry??

Turns out that the husband he's caught himself? Well, husband's father is the younger brother of the reigning emperor... ahahaha so that's how Shen Jiu never realized or recognized his husband's true status. He just thought he married a rich, somewhat lazy, nobleman with just enough influence and power in the imperial government to make any cultivator hesitate to annoy. You know, just in case anyone else also time traveled and really want to drag him back to Cang Qiong cough Yue Qingyuan.

-o-o-o-o-

As delighted as Shen Yuan had been about his transmigration journey so far - such as the fact that he more or less kept his name. Well, mostly kept his name since it's now officially Long Shenyuan - which is cheesy as fuck that the Long surname represents the heavenly dragon. But! He can insist on all his friends and family to just call him Shenyuan. (In Chinese, to call someone by only their first name is a very intimate thing.)

He has no plans on marrying a proper lady because the emperor - his fucking paranoid son of a bitch of an uncle - still has no sons, only dozens of daughters, so just in case, it's better that he and his father avoid having children any time soon least people start having wrong ideas about overthrowing the current emperor for another branch of the family... especially one that already has sons.

Luckily, his parents are on the same page - they were the ones to push him to get a male concubine or two and project the image of a cutsleeve. His father once had two concubines but both concubines died in the plague that rocked through the imperial city a decade ago; no children or born from either concubines. Shen Yuan's mother, his father's official wife.

Shenyuan's mom: You should pretend to be an idiot who thinks with your dick and falls for a male beauty. Shen Yuan: Sure can do. Better to pretend to be gay than end up getting executed for trumped up charges of trying to usurp the throne.

Shen Yuan: picks up a beautiful male literally off the streets because he looks kind of like the Shen Qingqiu merch he had in his previous life Shen Yuan: starts sticking like a burr to his new concubine Shenyuan's mom: NOT LIKE THAT Shen Yuan: wat- Shenyuan's mom: wait, actually I like this guy. He's got more brains and political acumen than my son

And that's the meet-cute story of how future emperor Long Shenyuan picked up his future political advisor and male Empress.

[More in the #Shen Jiu time travels and decides to hide from cang qiong by becoming a concubine AU]

Edit: now up on AO3

#svsss #svsss au #svsss ideas #the scum villain's self saving system #shen jiu #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #time travel #Shen Jiu time travels and decides to hide from cang qiong by becoming a concubine AU

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winterlogysblog · 2 months

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CRAZY THEORY INCOMING

I think my brain just glitched...

Ok so... Camelot. Arthur made Camelot through the power of Chaos right. At first, I found it weird that Arthur even needed to steal parts of Britannia to make Camelot. Chaos is incredibly powerful, it literally made three powerful deities that made their own realms for their own created races. So... why can't Arthur just make Camelot on its own. Then, it was later established that these places and people in Camelot are made through the wishes and wants of the people, without it there's nothing. If Chaos is so powerful, why is Arthur limited through that? Then it clicked.

The Sacred Tree is still alive

The Sacred Tree is essentially an embodiment of Nature. Disaster, a power granted by The Sacred Tree to the Fairy Kings is an ability that grants control over life and death.

The 'people' within Camelot function like a physical illusion. They're 'alive' but not really. They're just there, fueled by a wish. They don't even grow old, they just stay like that because that's all they are an illusion, they're not alive because there's no life.

The Demon King's power is darkness. The Supreme Diety's power is light. The Sacred Tree's power is life.

Notice how unnatural-looking the Chaos monsters are. Almost demonic even. That, to me, shows that Chaos is unstable.

The Demon King and his Commandments and The Supreme Deity and her graces are somewhat of an extension of themselves, it's their power passed to others. If we correlate this to Chaos creating the DK, SD and ST as Chaos sacrificing parts of their power, that power is lost or weakened because they have it. But the DK and SD are no longer present and since they are created by Chaos, that power most likely goes back to it. That is my assumption at least. But the graces are still out there. Ludo, Sariel, and Tarmiel died with their graces so they'll just go back after a few thousand years with their graces so that part of the SD probably didn't even go back to Chaos.

I made a post way back and on that, I compared the Commandments and Graces to Disaster as all three are just an extension of the DK, SD, and ST's power, in there I noted how Disaster is different as all three Fairy Kings can use it even if they're all present, it's not like the Commandments and Graces that only one person can use it. So that is also interesting.

There is also a complete lack of Sacred Tree information and just now, in 4kota is literally the first time we ever step foot inside the Fairy Realm and we got more Fairy Lore which is really nice. Now, what if the reason behind the lack of information about the Sacred Tree is because of Chaos. Nakaba doesn't want us to know anything about Chaos up until the very end because of 4kota, because he wants to keep Chaos a mystery.

In Chapter 140, Tioreh told us about these giant mushrooms that grow on top of the Sacred Tree's roots that are called "God Seats". The DK and SD are the only ones primarily dubbed as Gods. So that part is also interesting.

This is the Demon King's last words to Meliodas.

"You will regret this..."

In Cursed By Light, before Meliodas and Zeldris beat the Supreme Deity, she says that the only way to maintain balance in the world is by continuing the Holy War.

Before Chaos is established, this is just nonsense. But now that we know... I have a feeling that the DK and SD sealing away Chaos has more to it than what we know. Also, isn't it fun that two beings born to be in conflict with one another worked together to seal Chaos? Now, we don't get to know more because they're gone but the Sacred Tree is still around... so there's that.

I have a huge feeling that Nakaba will give us some juicy lore about the Sacred Tree in the future. Either that or I'm high on copium.

#3 am rambles #who needs sleep #I dunno if any of this makes any sense #take whatever this is with a grain of salt #try to decode my thought process lol #4kota theory #nnt theory #Chaos #Supreme Deity #Demon King #Sacred Tree #nanatsu no taizai #four knights of the apocalypse #4kota #nnt #seven deadly sins #mokushiroku no yonkishi #seven deadly sins sequel #nanatsu no taizai mokushiroku no yonkishi

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pixies-and-poets · 6 months

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Smithy Gang Headcanons

Hi, friends! I'm extremely grateful for the positive feedback on The Forging, and definitely want to write more SMRPG stuff; I've just been working on other priorities lately. However, my brain has been busy churning stuff over, even if I haven't had the time to sit down and write a story yet.

So I wanted to jot down some of my headcanons for the Smithy gang, specifically the forging order of the main members. I thought of a sequence where Smithy created each as a response to shortcomings he saw in their predecessors. This timeline will serve as a framework from which I can write future stories.

I don't think there's anything here that goes directly against canon, but I'm not as much of an SMRPG expert as I am with some other games lol, so feel free to tell me if there's some kind of Japanese-only line that contradicts me. Also let me know your own ideas if you want!! I am new to being a proper fan in this fandom :P

First, some general notes: I don't really have a good definition for who Smithy himself is, where he came from, or what his world is like, and I don't know if I ever will, since I find some degree of ominous mystery to be more interesting. Also - while I've seen the Gang described as "robots", while that may be true in a sense, I think of them more as "constructs" - I don't think they're powered by wires or circuitry or anything like that, but rather arcane magic. They are not powered by AI, even in the sense that a more nuanced and self-aware robo-sentience might be (see examples in the Marioverse: TEC, Beep-0, JEANIE), but a more traditional type of consciousness/soul that Smithy has learned to work with, as if it were yet another material. (This isn't abnormal for the Mario world, where we already have living bullets and bombs and the like- and in an ironic twist, also makes them somewhat similar to Geno, who is a consciousness inhabiting a form that would not produce sentience or mobility on its own.)

This isn't really a fic, although it's long enough to be one, lol. I hope you enjoy!

First there was Exor; but Smithy did not create him. In fact, Exor was Smithy's beloved blade, the reason for his obsession with living weapons in the first place. But Exor is a being even more ancient than Smithy, who just happened to bond with him in his lifetime. The sword can grow to a massive size, and is never truly destroyed, but will reappear and reforge itself throughout history. The otherworldly creature that attached itself to Exor and brought it to life has been known to some as the Neosquid.

Now Smithy, in a sense, was his own first experiment - gradually replacing his organic parts with malleable metal, not only to extend his own life, but to make himself more suited for a variety of purposes. This was a process that never really had an end, as he was always experimenting, creating new heads for himself. But when he was satisfied enough with his initial efforts, Smithy sought to create life in his own image, and in the image of his beloved Exor. Among other adventures, he spent time in Subcon, the Land of Dreams, studying the enigmatic nature of consciousness - at least enough so that he could harness some of its unfathomable magic for his own ends.

Boomer was the first of Smithy's prized creations (yes, because I like the idea of the one called "Boomer" being the oldest). Originally created to provide a sort of companionship to Smithy in the form of strategic advisory and being a bodyguard- and also to provide friendship, although Smithy would never admit it. Over time, Smithy became distracted with his newer and flashier works, and grew tired of Boomer's overly serious and staid nature. Though their relationship has grown distant, Boomer's fondness, gratitude and loyalty for his creator has never faltered, and he will defend Smithy to the very last of his existence. In turn, Smithy has never put forth plans for machine-made Boomers- the younger creations speculate it's because he's too outdated a model for this to be worth it, but perhaps it's because even now, Smithy considers him irreplaceable.

Bowyer was the next-forged. Smithy sought to make a commander who represented a long-range weapon, to contrast with Boomer's katana; and also a more creative and inventive personality to offset Boomer's traditionalist and unadventurous nature. When Bowyer was born, Smithy found that he had accidentally gone way too far (in his opinion) in this new direction, leading to a creation that was so erratic he refused to even speak like those around him. Smithy found Bowyer a hard-to-control troublemaker who would rarely listen to him (or Boomer) and seemed unhappy most of the time, not fitting in with the world he had been forged into. Bowyer would also leave arrows all over the place, sticking out of random things in the weapon world - this is when Smithy had the bright idea to create arrows with consciousness, so they could return to their leader on their own. To Smithy and Boomer's surprise, Bowyer became a lot more joyful and content when he met his little Aeros, and they all became an inseparable entourage.

Smithy became creatively blocked while trying to think of his next big project, largely due to the stress of Bowyer's early behavior. Instead, he came up with a number of smaller-time minions, some of which were the Shymores, based on the Shy Guys he had observed during the time he had spent in Subcon. The Shymores were a playfully destructive group, and after seeing Bowyer's happiness with the Aeros, Smithy decided to forge a creation who was destined to be a leader from the outset; and also one with a mischievous streak, yet toned down from Bowyer. And so he made Claymorton, who later called himself Mack. He was a beloved leader to his rowdy group, but perhaps too social- he ended up neglecting his own training, preferring to play and mess around with his friends, and thus never became very strong on his own.

By now, Smithy was growing frustrated by the failures and flaws that he saw in the personalities of his creations. He decided to think extra hard about the character of his next project: this would be someone who could work completely independently - brilliant, shrewd, capable of powerful magic spells and illusions. Yet Smithy made sure to write in an unflinching loyalty to himself into the new creation's code, so to speak. And lo: at first Speardovich seemed everything Smithy could have ever wanted. Proud, powerful, but knowing his place. He needed no minions, and thus was never distracted, as he could split his own form and consciousness so that one being could do the work of many. He might appear to be older than Bowyer and Claymorton, but in fact he is technically not; he was just created from the outset to be more mature, with the moustache to prove it. And yet, over time, the cracks in this personality began to show. Speary was pompous and did not get along with the other creations when necessity called them to work together. And his respect for Smithy manifested as simpering; a begging for praise and attention which the smith found increasingly unbearable. He was always coming up with unasked-for ideas and input, such as: perhaps all the machine-made units could take the name of a spear in a different language, and "speardovich" could be their overall model name, and that he quite liked Yaridovich for himself personally, and perhaps it would be alright if- but no, Smithy would have none of it. While at first he had beamed with joy at this newest creation, he soon enough kept him at arm's length (or spear's length?) as well.

Finally, Smithy hit upon a brilliant idea - his next creation would be a group of (mostly) equals who could depend on each other without a major power imbalance, keep each other entertained, and stay out of his hair. The Axem Rangers were born, all bearing an energetic and youthful personality which they are still yet to grow out of. They were given control of the Blade, and sent to scout various worlds. They often picked up slang and brought home entertainment from the places they visited, and developed a countless number of inside jokes. The other commanders, and especially Smithy himself and Boomer, found it hard to keep up with them. However, Smithy considered their existence a big success, and remained very proud of them- although this might be due to the fact that he ended up not having to interact with them that much.

...So, that's what I have for now! I'm not sure where all of the Factory enemies fit into this; based on their descriptions, I think Clerk/Manager/Director aren't creations of Smithy, but are the same species as him and recruited from his homeworld. Same with the Chief, aside from possibly not being the same species. Smaller minions like jabits and the hammers would be produced at various points that aren't super relevant to this larger narrative. Count Down was probably made as a fun side-project when Smithy wanted to take a break from weapons per se, and see what he could do with an object like a clock. Gunyolk was confirmed to be created by the Chief. And Cloaker and Domino are weird outliers; I want to say they would be among some of the first things Smithy made, or the latest, in some kind of more abstract and experimental period.

Again - let me know your thoughts and ideas!

#super mario rpg #smrpg #fan analysis #fan theory #smithy gang

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roseykat · 2 years

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TITLE: Loss of Inihbition

WC: 1.5k

PAIRING: Hyunjin x reader

WARNING: minors DNI, I am and will be posting NSFW SKZ related content in the future and I know I won’t be able to regulate and monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please just don’t engage with it or my page whatsoever. Much appreciated.

TAGS: choking (m/receiving), oral fixations, established relationship, masturbation, there isn’t any use of pronouns but the reader has been described with a clit.

SUMMARY: Hyunjin wants to watch you get off while his fingers are in your mouth.

NOTE: hello, I’m Rose. I’m not exactly new to writing smut but, let’s just see how this rolls.

Hyunjin has never really been the type to tease. He’s a person who is intent on giving you what you want because he loves you and doesn’t like to see you suffer. In that sense, you’re not a brat about it, or more that you don’t need to act like one when he’s willing to give into you.

Not that you would be one in general, at least you don’t think. Not until today when Hyunjin, for the first time, decided to not fully give you what you craved.

What started off as the usual movie night on Friday, turned straight into something from a niche porn scene. On the couch in front of the TV, you share a warm blanket with Hyunjin curled up at his side. His arm had been draped around your shoulder, occasionally massaging your scalp or playing with your hair. He’d sneak a kiss on top of your head every now and then before things began to escalate.

At first, you hadn’t noticed that Hyunjin’s eyes had been fixated on you instead of the screen for a while. To really grab your attention, he’d ask for a kiss which you melted right into his request. From then on, his lips would never leave yours, luring you deeper into his trap.

The movie playing in the background drowns out, converting into white noise as you focus entirely on Hyunjin who lets the blanket softly fall to the ground and shifts you onto your back.

“Hyunjin,” you murmur when he breaks away from the kiss. The anticipation of what you think and hope is about to happen is put on pause when he regrettably stops the situation from advancing any further.

“Let me watch you,” Hyunjin mutters against your lips. “I want to see you get off by yourself.”

You blink at least several times before you can even fashion a coherent sentence in your brain. It’s not that it was an embarrassing task to perform, but you were somewhat…floored to hear what Hyunjin desired.

You’ve done this countless times without him there, but never when he’s right beside you and watching like a hawk. It makes you feel shy and partially helpless when he’s not participating with you.

“Can’t…can’t we just-“

“Maybe afterwards,” Hyunjin interrupts, already thinking two steps ahead of you.

The word ‘maybe’ didn’t sit right in your vocabulary. If this was the direction that things were going to head down tonight, you hoped that ‘maybe’ would turn into an affirmative ‘yes’ at some point. Complying with his need would possibly guarantee that. So, you obey.

Your hand slips past the band of your shorts and underwear then down to your clit, now fully aware of how wet you are to the touch. Not even five minutes of making out can already have your insides subliminally reeling with the subtleties of what this man can do to you.

A small whine escapes your mouth as Hyunjin peels himself off of your body. As he goes to lean back, he takes the ends of both sides of your pyjama shorts, slowly tugging them down to your ankles, leaving you exposed in your underwear and hoodie.

Your cheeks immediately flush with heat while he smiles faintly, too absorbed in the way you were touching yourself, almost as if he were possessed.

“Don’t be shy baby,” Hyunjin prompts softly, noticing that your hand stopped moving. “Think about what I usually do to you if that helps.”

It did.

His advice drains your hesitation as you begin to envision the myriad of occasions where Hyunjin has brought you to multiple orgasms. Your brain coils with torrents of feverish memories as you continue to touch yourself. One that springs to mind was Hyunjin’s birthday.

After showering him with well-deserved gifts, you were set on giving him the time of his life in bed until he suddenly turned the tables. By the end of that night, Hyunjin had bent you over the counter and finger fucked you until you were shaking and dripping on the tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Hyunjin,” you swallow hard, air hitching in your throat.

“That’s it,” he encourages.

Attempting to hold back your moans was a futile move, not when Hyunjin’s avid ears can effortlessly pick up on your staggered breathing. The faster the pace, the more he knew you were close to the edge of an orgasm. Only then did he lean over you once more, placing a chaste kiss on your parted lips before noticing that his long and spindly fingers hover in front of your mouth.

You understand his idea undoubtedly, but regardless of the euphoric haze that gradually submerged you, one thing that became apparent was that Hyunjin didn’t sport any of his rings. Based on that, you couldn’t help but wonder briefly if this was all premeditated.

Not that it mattered.

“Open,” he says to you, his fingers still waiting patiently. You swallow first and catch your breath before your mouth welcomes them in.

The warm heat encapsulating around Hyunjin’s fingers makes his dick twitch in his pants, almost easy enough to make him come untouched if he’s not careful. Seeing and hearing the lewd sounds you make when you begin to suck has Hyunjin’s mind swirling, making him dizzy.

It takes him twice the amount of restraint he needs to refrain from touching you altogether.

He continues to leave that job to you. Your fingers are enough to satiate that primal need to have Hyunjin inside of you - they’re not enough, but it does the trick. Sooner than later, the build-up of pleasure takes shape, balling in your lower abdomen as it makes you squirm under Hyunjin. Your free hand quickly grips at his forearm, nails digging into the skin.

“So good,” he praises in a sweet, dulcet tone.

His eyes refuse to leave your body, they never drift from your contorted face or where his fingers disappear into your mouth. They pet and glide easily over your tongue that yields to them so perfectly, glistening and coated in saliva. You try your best to suck on them even though you’re too crazed on trying to come.

It’s not long until you become frantic, rabidly chasing the tail end of your orgasm that you only wished Hyunjin would do for you. The intense sensation makes you feel deranged, so much that your free hand goes from gripping and clawing at Hyunjin’s arm to somehow finding its path to the sides of his neck.

Hyunjin’s eyes glaze over with pure hunger and greed as you increasingly add pressure to squeeze. It’s not the first time you’ve choked Hyunjin, in fact he was the one who initially rallied for the idea in the early stages of your relationship.

It was a swift discovery into his treasure chest of kinks that was not only subtle but insanely effective on him.

His eyelids flutter as you moan and whine around his fingers just watching him enjoy this as much as you are. You continue to rub repeatedly over your clit in a heated and messy frenzy while the fabric of your underwear soaks through.

Hyunjin barely blinks in fear that he’s going to miss watching you writhe in pleasure when suddenly, your eyes screw shut as you bring yourself to the peak of an intense orgasm.

Long, loud strings of whimpers and mewls shoot vibrations through Hyunjin’s fingers and into his hand. He wasn’t able to explain why but it felt strangely good - nothing in comparison to seeing your body shudder and shiver uncontrollably when surges of pleasure swell throughout your insides.

He retracts his wet fingers that still linger along your lips, smoothing and rubbing over them. Your chest heaves up and down, long before it finds a steady, calm rhythm.

Hyunjin breathes hard and heavy too with a feral glint in his eyes after your hand falls from the sides of his neck, landing beside you. The other one, still down the front of your underwear, is brought up by the help of Hyunjin, who as if he’s totally unhinged now, takes your middle and index fingers in his mouth.

The sudden action has your eyes widening, “H-Hyunjin…”

You go to pull your hand back, wildly flustered about the fact that Hyunjin is sucking every bit of your essence off of your fingers. But he stills you with a sharp stare before he’s done, leaving a trail of spit connecting from your fingertips and his lips.

It’s obscene and lewd, yet the beautifully demented part of Hyunjin’s brain wishes he could’ve taken a photo of it. Maybe next time.

“Sorry,” he swallows. “You look so pretty when you come…I couldn’t help myself.”

You were utterly speechless yet not entirely surprised at the same time.

Hyunjin has never really been one to tease, but you forget there are times where he can be maniacally and incessantly aroused. Thinking about it makes something spark inside you once more. It makes you excited to feel it since Hyunjin has yet to have his own fill.

NOTE: I strictly do not permit any copying, editing, rewriting or remakes of my work nor do I allow them to be uploaded to any other site or social media platform. Tumblr is the only site I will be using to post this type of content so if you see it elsewhere, then it has been stolen.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids imagines #hyunjin x reader

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bornincaldecott · 2 months

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I didn't really get into Romy in '97 too much in my post-episode 2 brain dump last night, and while I'd like to say that was completely intentional because I was planning a second brain dump dedicated to them...that's not the case. Not entirely, at least.

Like I said, it was late when I was finally able to watch episode 2 (was fighting an absolute terror of a migraine), and my post last night was already getting long. I was exhausted but I needed to get my thoughts out of my head.

But now that I'm more coherent and feeling somewhat better (migraine's a persistent bastard), let's get into it!

My Romy heart was so happy seeing them together. This era of them is probably my favorite. Yes, of course I love how far they've come since this, and of course I'm obsessed with them being married, but there's something about this part of their relationship — the pining, the angst, the romanticized chaos — that just slaps.

Maybe it's because I do know what the future holds for them, and seeing what led them there, everything they went through and endured, is such a testament to how much they love each other.

Remy has so much faith in Rogue, even this early in their relationship (although I guess they've been together for at least 5 years by the time '97 kicks off). "Rogue always comes to Gambit's rescue"? PLEASE. I know that was supposed to be a throwaway because they're teasing Scott but COME ON.

They gave us so many little glimpses into their relationship. Romy nation was fed well. Like when Rogue's hanging on him after the sentinel fight?

Look how proud she is of him. That face? "Yeah, that's my man."

They seem so comfortable with each other, and it makes me so happy I was misty-eyed watching. Apparently not comfortable enough though because...y'know...

Now that I've slept on things, though, I wonder if they're actually going to go full-on Rogueneto. Yes, they hinted at it, and yes, some tension was introduced, but maybe it'll get nipped in the bud before it becomes a whole thing. This is cheating, but there's another trailer where we see Kurt bamf between them, and you can tell that Remy had his arms around Rogue right before that. The fact that we have that trailer tells me that Kurt is going to be introduced sooner, rather than later (but I could be wrong). So that makes me think that Mags might be a bump in the road, but not an all-out hurdle they have to clear.

That doesn't make it hurt any less 'cause BOY HOWDY does it hurt. But even the strongest ships sometimes have to sail through storms before they can make it back home to the harbor, their endpoint.

I doubt we'll get it, but there is a part of me that's holding out hope that, in light of the Rogueneto angle, we'll get the "home and harbor" speech at some point, albeit with a different lead up. I don't think we will but GOD I WOULD SOB. Maybe Remy's VA has Cameo. I'd shell out the cash for that.

#xmen 97 #rogue x gambit #romy #home and harbor

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etincelleart · 11 months

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Analysis of RWBY Volume 9 and V9 epilogue

So I have some thoughts stuck in my brain since I saw the epilogue, and I wanted to share them here ! o/

I've been thinking a lot about the overall message and meaning of Volume 9, and the epilogue is an interesting contradiction in some parts. There are different oppositions in there that I'd like to talk about.

Note that I'll (of course I mean who do you think I am) talk about how Penny's death is described and shown to us and from all of these characters' point of views, because there are interesting oppositions here to :]

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Volume 9 is about hope, it's about accepting that who you are and what you do is enough, and it's also the main and overall message of the story since the beginning. That even if everything seems to be pointless or doomed, just trying and doing simple acts can be enough. I think it's interesting to see how that influences Qrow especially in the epilogue, because he's very optimistic and doing his best, while Winter is spiraling and feeling guilty because she took a long time to finally act against Ironwood.

These two characters have a different point of view about everything, Winter thinks that they failed team RWBY, Jaune and Penny, and that it's better they never see this. Qrow thinks that they've done good despite everything, and his biggest regret is that they can't see all the good they started.

I'm also really glad to see that Qrow learned from Clover and is able to move forward, and make something of this loss. Qrow used to be completely pessimistic and alone for years, thinking that it was only because of his Semblance, while in fact the perspective and vision of the world is what allow him to decide of how things will go. Anyway I just thought it was nice as I loved their bond in Volume 7 ♥

The opposition of Qrow and Winter here is interesting, and I'm really curious to know now they'll both be developed in Volume 10 !

Btw, note that they mentioned before showing the epilogue that some parts of this epilogue were cut (it's a portion of the epilogue), because it leads to future plot that they probably want to keep for Volume 10. So some informations are probably missing too

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So what I also and especially wanted to talk about here is Volume 9 informations : if you think of the RWBY story in a larger perspective, you can see that :

life and death are the only known and "good" balance made by the two Brothers (who aren't the true Gods of the RWBY universe, but "only" Afterans with lots of powers basically--)

reincarnation/reviving people from the death is BAD and break the balance.

reincarnation is also seen as painful : Salem doesn't reincarnate, but she never dies. Ozpin reincarnates, but in a painful way as he keeps his memories, he stays the same and merge with a new person all the time.

But in Volume 9, we learn that :

the Tree and the Blacksmith are (is ?) the one who created everything, included the two Brothers, who created Remnant and other worlds

death doesn't exist in the Ever After (EXCEPT with the Jabberwalker). the balance here is to ascend, aka reincarnate, and lose some parts of your memories : you might not remember anything of your previous life, but you do remember deep down the very important things (like as we saw with Little who came back as Somewhat, who don't remember the details of their bond with Ruby, but they DO remember her and their connection deep down).

the Blacksmith talks about "the true balance", and we can see that what the two Brothers are (compared to two forces), isn't what this true balance is. So it's implied what the Brothers did/are isn't what balance is, or is supposed to be. At least, that's my interpretation of this scene.

I wanted to sum up all of these infos to have a clear and large vision of the story. Those in Remnant don't know a THING about what we learned in V9, we can see it with Winter spiralling on her failures and mistakes.

Now about life and death, there's this thing : in Remnant people die, they don't come back, yet everyone in Vacuo is about to see 5 young adults/teenager "come back for the dead" after seeing them fall in a dark void. They weren't really dead, but for everyone on Remnant they were, and I just feel like with V9 they're playing more and more around this idea of balance and life and death, and the vision around it.

Some funny thing I thought of too is that Little died, but they came back as Somewhat and no one really complained about how it would erase the meaning of their death, the impact etc. But I don't feel the same way, it was STILL impactful, it still pushed Ruby to give up everything and drink the tea. And it was mostly accepted by everyone to me because they're Afteran.

I'm kinda rambling a lot until now, but I want to talk about Penny and how I think things are even more confusing about her-

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There are two lines in direction opposition in Volume 9 and this epilogue, first we have the scene with Ruby meeting the Blacksmith in Chapter 5 of V9, when Ruby asks where they found Penny's sword. The Blacksmith answers "nothing, no one is ever truly lost". The "no one here is interesting" as Ruby only asked about Penny's sword, an object, and not Penny herself. And in this overall chapter, we have a whole scene with the Cat explaining to team RWBY what is ascension in the Ever After. They are shocked when they ask if people can die here, or even remember anything. Weiss says that "things have to die someday", but the Cat is shocked and denies it.

Then in this epilogue, we have Winter's point of view, saying "Because of me, Penny is gone, forever".

I'd like to note two things here :

this line is in opposition with what Penny and Winter said to each other during the transfer of the Maiden powers at the end of V8 : in this scene, Penny is reassuring Winter by saying she won't be gone, she'll be a part of her, just as Winter told her Fria was a part of Penny in V7 finale. Here in this epilogue, Winter is feeling guilty and doesn't truly believe what they said to each other, she thinks she's gone (and this "being gone" thing isn't just a metaphor : it's confusing because of the nature of the maiden powers. Penny is literally a part of Winter because her Aura was transferred to Winter with the powers, it's not just meant to be comforting.).

this line is also in complete opposition with the overall volume, a volume about reincarnation/ascension, about this idea of balance that might not be what we think it is maybe ? I would say that it's normal because Winter doesn't have this knowledge, we're only in her thoughts and she's feeling bad. The thing that I think is strange is this "forever" : Winter saying "Because of me, Penny is gone", would have been enough for the audience to understand that she's feeling guilty. This "forever" is subtle but to me it's still an important emphasis because we literally had the God of the RWBY universe telling us a few chapters ago "nothing, no one is ever truly lost". Once again, Penny had a LOT of references during V9, almost every chapter except 2 (I talked more about it in previous posts). She was literally haunting the narrative with these subtle moments, discreet enough to be unnoticed (or Penny's fans are just insane idk) : this moment when Ruby meets the Blacksmith, this moment in chapter 8 when Penny's illusion says "I died in Atlas too, didn't I ?".

So Penny is mentioned almost all of the volume, and directly paralleled to reincarnation with a character VERY similar to her (Litte/Somewhat), who's friendly, wants to help Ruby, loves hugs, loves to help their friends and be their guide. I just feel like they're playing a lot with Penny on the topic of death, she's truly an allusion to Pinnochio omg.

I did a little sketch/doodle to sum up all of that because I think it'll be clearer than my disorganized thoughts oops

Most of the time, adding such an emphasis on one character's death is pretty suspicious and means there's something more coming for them. I just think the parallel of seeing a character reincarnate and having this emphasis on Penny's death by multiple characters look pretty curious-

Now I know we could ask what about Pyrrha, Clover, Ironwood and many others who died then ? Well the thing is that even if I talk about Penny, I'm starting to think about them too and wondering at this point if they could not be back at some point in someway someday. I won't talk too much on this because I'm really not sure of anything and it's still complicated to talk about them when for most of these characters, you can see there's a form of "conclusion" to their death : Pyrrha got the statue scene in V6 and it felt like some sort of closure to me. Jaune moved forward and did his best to train with her videos. Clover died but Qrow has been able to move forward too and learn from his friend. Penny died to transfer the powers and save people, but if she's not coming back, then I'd like to see the effects on Ruby, to see her stay kind and friendly, to see her think about her friend and remember how positive she was about the world. Until now we only can see and feel Penny's death and character linger on the narrative, and we still don't know how Pietro, Penny's dad and creator, is taking all of this. As I mentioned before I highly doubt he would just stay there and mourn his daughter, he will definitely try to understand more how Aura works, Aura transfer, or even close himself to others and try desperately to rebuild her.

Ok it's late idk how to explain more my thoughts on these topic but I FEEL. LIKE. SOMETHING IN ALL OF THAT IS OFF. So I'll finish this with two doodles from yesterday when I continued to lose my brain and tried to analyse and speculate on the overall RWBY story/narrative, as well as how I see Penny's narrative and arc too. xD

Things just often happen in threes, and I feel like if Penny comes back, she will definitely stay this time. Idk if us Penny fans are just seeing things too far, being delusional or else, but aside all shipping or favorite character or anything, I still just think in a narrative point of view a lot of elements are leading to something big about her and death in general.

And I'll also add one image that sums up the structure of a narrative arc, to understand where I came from with all of this, and how we can try to predict how things will go for the Vacuo arc and the last part of the series :

I'll stop the massacre and go to sleep because I can feel my brain drifting off *runs*

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