#answer: not.... that bad? could be worse.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

(Answer this after watching Chapter 4)

I NEED an X Reader where Reader comforts Doey after he's first frozen, or maybe one where Reader literally smacks some sense into Doey after the Safe Haven blows up(and we need the refugees to escape PLEASE-)

"Oh, it's you! Is the Doctor...?"

"No. Not yet. I'm working on it." You shook your head, looking apologetically at the doughy toy that had recently become one of your allies.

Even though you were just halfway through your trip through "No Man's Land", you're relieved that you didn't have to worry about Yarnaby following you around. You could have certainly used Doey's help beforehand, but he did save you from Pianosaurus at a critical moment where you thought it was truly the end for you.

Besides that, you were used to dealing with things on your own.

You sent Huggy into a pitfall, killed Mommy Long Legs, and set Catnap and Yarnaby ablaze without really anyone's assistance.

Killing the Doctor, on the other hand, was going to be a very different challenge. He wasn't some Bigger Body with flaws you could exploit--he was cruel, calculating, and wanted to prey on your fear and reasons for coming back to this factory.

Not to mention the Prototype, who was working with the mastermind behind the experiments for reasons still unclear to you. But the "why" wasn't important to you right now--letting this place burn down is what mattered most.

Doey was rather opposed to the idea of setting explosives in the foundation, although after everything you've seen (and knowing him and Poppy have probably seen things ten times worse), you were on board with the plan.

Because what was the alternative?

Letting all these toys starve and cannibalize each other? Waiting for some other poor soul like yourself to come here and die? Allowing the Prototype to have his way?

Absolutely not.

First things first..you had to find the omni hand for your grabpack, knowing it would give you greater access to the facility's systems. Apparently the Doctor had it under lock and key, meaning you had to take him out of commission before you could reach it.

At some point in your mission, you came across Doey again, who was inspecting a pipe. You felt a little bad for disappointing him when you said the Doctor wasn't dead yet, although he must have known it was going to take you some time.

But who could blame him? Him and the others have waited years and years for an opportunity like this. For someone like you to come along and save them.

He couldn't be at fault for being so eager.

"I figured as much." He sighed, smiling at you as he turned away from the pipe. "I've been here gathering parts for the generator."

"Really? Where's all the.....oh." You stopped yourself upon seeing him holding his stomach and giggling. "Right."

"Yup! LOTS of--ah!"

Without any warning, the pipe burst open with loud hiss and began spraying a cloud of cold gas directly onto him. Upon contact with his body, he became frozen solid.

You stood there in shock for a moment, before remembering that dough didn't mix well with the cold, and you panicked as you looked for a way to stop the flow of gas.

Then you looked up to see a switch, using one of your grabpack hands to turn the handle. Fortunately that seemed to do the trick, as the cloud dissipated almost instantly, allowing Doey to thaw out rather fast.

Despite your quick actions, he seemed thoroughly shaken, his eyes wide and his yellow arm stretched out, dragging it behind him as he quickly huddled into the nearest corner of the rooms.

"Hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts, HURTS!!!" He cried out, his arm morphing back into its usual shape as he tries taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

You frowned slightly and approached him, ignoring the opening doors for the moment. "Doey, are you okay?"

"N-No. He's made it impossible for me to get around here!" He snapped at you. "Traps like this are everywhere!"

His voice sounded different--with a lot more aggression to it, and so you kept your distance, feeling yourself growing tense.

You had to remember that no matter how innocent or kind these toys appeared to be...they were traumatized and obviously not of sound mind. They could turn on you at the drop of a hat.

Either that, or they're simply animals with unpredictable behaviors.

But you knew Doey wasn't some animal. He was an ally, someone you had learned to trust.

Your gut says that you seriously shouldn't, considering how trusting Mommy almost got you eaten alive, and trusting Poppy led to her redirecting the train and dragging you further into this mess.

But once you saw things from her point of view, you've come to realize that this wasn't something you could just walk away from.

How could you go on with life knowing all of this was happening beneath your feet? Especially now that she believes you were the only person who could help everyone who's suffered here--or at least whoever's left.

She put a lot of faith in you, and you couldn't let her down.

Although she definitely wanted you to hurry, you had to at least take the time to make sure Doey was okay after that trap was set off.

"It's the cold that hurts....th-the big mean Doctor knows that.." He sniffled, now sounding on the verge of tears as he hugged himself.

"And that's why I'm gonna stop him." You promised. "I'm gonna find whatever's left of that prick and destroy him. Once and for all."

"...I-I know. You can go on ahead. I'll..I'll be okay...I'll be okay..."

Despite what he says, you knew he very much wasn't okay just yet.

Then you had an idea.

"I know you will be. But first..."

The clay creature looked at you, seeing you open your arms up, the grabpack's mechanisms down at your sides. "Can I get a hug for the road, big guy?"

Doey sniffled again, at first hesitant to respond, but seeing your sweet attitude and the hope written on your face brought a smile back to his own features.

He nodded and hugged you tightly, squishing you against him and lifting you off the ground a few feet.

The smells of clay and dough were overwhelming, but they're a lot better than the other...ghastly scents you've somehow grown desensitized to.

"Of course you can, buddy!" He laughed. "You'll need it!" After a few moments, he set you down and checked to make sure he didn't leave any residue on you or your grabpack. "Thank you. That...made me feel a lot better."

"I'm glad. I feel better, too." You chuckled, adjusting the straps before making your way further into No Man's Land, praying that you'd make it to the Doctor's hideout and back to the Safe Haven alive.

They were all counting on you.

You couldn't fail.

Not after everything you've been through.

[luvst4rc0r3]

CAN YOU DO A JINX X READER FIC BUT READER IS PREGNANT AND LIKE SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO TELL JINX.

IF YOU DO IT TYYYYYY❤️❤️

“Two Pink Lines”

Jinx x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Mention of abortion?

WC:2311

NOTE: established relationship.

Your POV

You had been pacing the tiny space of your shared room for the last ten minutes, the little pregnancy test feeling like a bomb in your hands.

Your heart was pounding so hard it made your head hurt. You knew this wasn’t something you could just ignore—Jinx deserved to know. But saying it out loud? Actually forming the words? That felt impossible.

“Hey, Jinx, so, funny story—I’m pregnant.”

Nope. Too casual.

“Jinx, I have something to tell you… I’m having a baby.”

Too dramatic.

“Surprise! You knocked me up!”

Oh, hell no.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. Every option sounded worse than the last. There was no way this wouldn’t shake her, no way this wouldn’t send her brain spinning in all directions. Jinx wasn’t bad with emotions—she just didn’t always know what to do with them. And this? This was big.

You had seen how uneasy she was lately, the way she watched you with that nervous, twitchy energy. She knew something was up, but instead of pressing, she’d let it fester, probably assuming the worst.

Jinx had been through too much, lost too many people, and she had this awful habit of thinking everything was her fault. And you had not been helping, avoiding her questions, brushing off her concerns, all because you didn’t know how to say it.

That had to stop.

You exhaled sharply.

You needed to tell her. But you also knew that telling her face-to-face might make it worse.

Jinx was all reaction—she acted before thinking, emotions bubbling over before she could grab hold of them. If you just told her, there was a chance she’d shut down, that panic would take over before she even had time to process.

But if you left the test somewhere she’d find it, without the pressure of you standing there waiting for a reaction… maybe that would help.

Your eyes landed on her workshop.

That’s it.

She was always working on something, always tinkering with gadgets and bombs. Her workbench was her safe space—the one place she could think things through. If you left the test there, she’d have time to work through the shock before she had to deal with you staring at her, waiting for an answer.

Decision made, you swallowed hard and forced yourself to move.

Jinx wasn’t in the workshop, which was perfect. You stepped inside, ignoring the usual chaos of scattered blueprints and half-finished projects, and placed the pregnancy test dead center on her workbench.

She wouldn’t miss it.

You took a shaky step back, staring at the little plastic stick like it might suddenly shout the news for you.

This was the best way. You had to believe that.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked out. You’d give her a couple of hours—enough time to let her mind run in circles, freak out, and hopefully settle before you came back.

You just had to hope she wouldn’t blow anything up in the process.

‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺ ͙

Jinx’s POV

Jinx felt like her skin didn’t fit right.

Something was wrong.

You were gone again, and she had no idea where or why. You kept sneaking off, looking at her like she was some kind of fragile bomb that might explode if you said the wrong thing.

She hated it.

Hated not knowing.

Hated the pit of anxiety gnawing at her stomach.

She stomped into her workshop, muttering to herself, fingers twitching at her sides. Maybe she could work on something, blow off some steam, keep her hands busy before she—

Her eyes landed on her workbench.

Jinx froze.

There, right in the middle of the mess, was something that didn’t belong. A little box.

Her brows furrowed. She stepped closer, picking it up and flipping it over in her hands. The words on the front made her stomach drop.

Pregnancy Test.

Her breath hitched.

That wasn’t—

No way.

She ripped the box open, fingers fumbling as she pulled out the little plastic stick inside.

Two pink lines.

Her heart stopped.

She stared at it, willing the lines to disappear, to change, to be anything else.

Two lines meant—

It meant—

Jinx’s breath came fast and shallow, her grip tightening around the test. Her thoughts were spiraling too fast to grab onto.

You were pregnant.

With her baby.

Her lungs felt too tight. Her hands were shaking. The world tilted, her brain screaming at her to do something, but she didn’t even know what.

This was why you’d been acting weird. This was why you were avoiding her, why you looked so nervous every time she got too close.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Did you think she’d be mad? Did you think she wouldn’t want this?

Jinx stumbled back, almost knocking over a pile of scrap metal.

A baby. A tiny, fragile thing that would need her, to touch her, to need her warmth.

Her.

Jinx.

A girl who broke everything she touched.

She squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath. No, no, don’t go there, don’t—

Her brain wanted to run, to slip into that dark, gnawing place where she wasn’t enough, where she couldn’t be enough. But another thought cut through the panic—sharp, insistent.

You hadn’t left.

You didn’t run.

You left this for her to find, trusting that she’d handle it.

She blinked down at the test again.

Her fingers loosened.

The fear was still there, lurking under her skin, but something else was rising up too—something warm and unfamiliar.

You were having a baby.

Her baby.

Jinx let out a breathless, slightly manic laugh.

She had to find you. Now.

And you had a lot of explaining to do.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

You took your time getting home, dragging your feet through the dimly lit streets of Zaun. Every step felt heavier than the last, your stomach in knots.

You had done it. You had left the test on her desk. You had given her time.

Now you had to face whatever came next.

But the closer you got, the more the fear crept in.

What if she freaked out?

What if she shut down?

What if she left?

Jinx had a habit of running from things that hurt. And this? This had the potential to destroy her.

Your hands were ice-cold when you finally reached the door. You hesitated, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.

Then, slowly, you pushed it open.

Jinx was standing in the middle of the room.

Her shoulders were hunched, her hands curled into fists at her sides. The pregnancy test was still clutched in her fingers, white-knuckled like she had been holding onto it for hours.

The moment she saw you, she went still.

Completely still.

Your breath caught.

She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t moving toward you.

She was just staring.

The weight of it crushed you.

She didn’t want this.

You could see it in the way she held herself, in the way her fingers trembled slightly around the test, in the way her mouth parted like she wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out.

Your stomach turned, a sick, hollow feeling settling in your chest.

She didn’t want this.

And that meant—

You swallowed hard, your voice coming out quiet, fragile.

“I can get rid of it.”

The second the words left your mouth, Jinx broke.

“No!”

Her voice was so sharp, so panicked that it actually made you flinch.

Your breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was suffocating, thick with something raw and unbearable.

Jinx’s breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling too fast. She looked—

Terrified.

Not of you. Not of the baby.

Of losing you.

“You don’t—” her voice cracked, and she shook her head so violently her braids whipped around her shoulders. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think—”

You took a step back.

Jinx moved forward immediately, closing the distance like she was afraid you’d slip away if she didn’t grab hold of you now.

“You thought I didn’t want this?” she asked, voice strangled. “You thought I—?”

You had.

She saw it in your face.

Her expression twisted, something like hurt flashing behind her eyes, and it made your chest ache.

“Shit,” she breathed, voice cracking. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this, okay? I don’t know how to be—” Her throat bobbed. “I don’t even know how to be a person most days. How the hell am I supposed to be a—?”

She cut herself off.

Didn’t say the word.

Couldn’t.

The weight of it was too much.

You looked down, eyes burning. “Then maybe—”

“No,” she snapped, voice hoarse. “Don’t. Just—don’t.”

Jinx ran a shaking hand over her face, dragging her fingers through her hair.

“I want this,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I want you. I want—”

Her gaze dropped to your stomach, and something in her expression cracked.

“I want them.”

It was barely a breath, barely a sound, but it knocked the air from your lungs.

She looked lost, like she didn’t know how to want this but did anyway.

Your throat tightened.

“You do?”

Jinx let out a soft, broken laugh, but it was filled with confusion and fear. “I do,” she whispered, her eyes glossy. “I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to be ready for this. But I want to try. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose us.”

Her voice wavered, and she reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on your stomach. It felt tentative, like she wasn’t sure if she had the right to touch you, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to have a future with you and the baby.

But her fingers lingered there, almost as though she were trying to feel something real, something to ground herself. Her breathing was shallow, her body stiff, like she was holding herself together by sheer will.

You didn’t know what to say.

You could see it in her eyes—the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming weight of everything crashing down at once. She loved you, she wanted you, she wanted the baby, but she was terrified. And the last thing she wanted was to ruin everything. She couldn’t bear to mess this up.

But all you could think about was the space between you, the way she was afraid to touch you too hard, like she might break something precious.

“I don’t want to do this alone,” Jinx muttered, her voice cracking as she looked up at you, her face twisted with desperation. “Please, don’t make me do this alone. I… I don’t know how to be a mom. I don’t even know how to fix myself half the time, let alone another person. But I swear to you, I’ll try. I’ll try, okay?”

Her words hung in the air, raw and painful, and you could feel your heart breaking for her. You reached out, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her. She tensed at first, but then she melted into you, pressing her forehead against your shoulder, her body trembling.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m not leaving you. I’m not leaving this. We’ll figure it out. Together. I promise.”

Jinx clung to you tightly, as if she feared you would disappear if she let go for even a second. Her hands dug into your back, her nails pressing into your skin as though she were holding onto the last thread of stability in her life.

But even as she held onto you, you could feel her shaking. Her whole body was trembling with the weight of everything she was carrying—the fear, the guilt, the uncertainty. She was scared, and you could feel it in the way she breathed, in the way her fingers tightened around you, as if she thought she might lose her grip.

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” you whispered, your voice soothing, trying to reassure both her and yourself. “We don’t have to have it all figured out right now. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay? No pressure. We can be scared together.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks flushed, and her gaze was still full of uncertainty. But there was something else there, too. Something softer.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’m terrified. But I want this. I want you.”

Her confession hit you like a wave, crashing through the walls you’d built in your own heart. You couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes, couldn’t stop the sob that escaped your throat. You didn’t want to be scared anymore, either. You didn’t want to doubt everything you had with her, everything that was coming next.

You kissed her then, gently, softly. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or desperation, but one of quiet understanding. Of shared fear, shared hope.

When you pulled away, you both stayed close, your foreheads resting against each other, breathing in unison.

“I’m not leaving,” you repeated, almost to yourself, as much as to her.

Jinx nodded, her breath shaky, but she didn’t pull away. “Promise?”

You smiled faintly through your tears, nodding in return. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence between you stretch, the weight of everything pressing down on both of you. But there was a new understanding there now. An understanding that no matter how broken you both felt, no matter how terrifying the future seemed, you wouldn’t face it alone.

You had each other.

And that, for now, was enough.

YALL I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!

I want food

[coichii]

winter ✭

—(🎧)—> when han realizes something’s wrong with you before you realize it yourself

pairing - newbf!han x fem!reader

genre - comfort, cheers to me failing a test !! ☻

word count - 0.8k

warnings - implied seasonal depression & post hiatus writing

Maybe it’s the winter air, maybe it’s the warmth of the beach being replaced with snow fall of small ice crystals in the sky. You don’t know, but it’s making you feel off.

It’s a feeling quite indescribable, but if there were a you could equate to it, it would be numbness. The source? No idea.

It always comes and goes during the cold, a shiver cold air radiating through your body as the feeling of winter does.

It’s hard to stick to a routine during the winter. Getting up at 7:00am, taking walks, exercising, drinking water? You can pretty much say those are all in the garbage.

The only sense of consistency left in your life is Han, and even that is a fairly recent addition. Knowing him isn’t, but kissing him and cuddling him? Yeah, that’s different.

It hurts so say the feeling doesn’t go away with him. It definitely gets lighter and fades away, but it’s still there lingering.

It could be school too, and you’ve already noticed the A’s slowly fading into B’s, into C’s, and slowly but surely, D’s.

To say it’s taking a toll on you would be an understatement.

< —— >

Fuck. No no no.

31% is what the computer screen infront of you reads. A final score for a critical quiz in your major class.

A buzzing starts in your head, one that rings your ears like a gong had just been hit next to them. One that is so heavy that it begins to blur your vision alongside the fresh hot tears in your eyes.

As if it couldn’t get worse, a faint knock is soon heard on the door of your college dorm room. You begrudgingly get up, groaning as you quickly shut your laptop and wipe the moisture from your eyes.

God I swear. I can’t deal with my roommates right n-

“Y/n? I’ve been wondering why you weren’t answering my text. It’s been days.”

Definitely not who you were expecting to be on the other side of the door.

“O-oh hi. Come in.” You usher, pointing him and softly closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t know it’s been that long, I’m sorry, Hannie.” You say half heartedly. You did genuinely feel bad, but you can’t muster up the energy.

You move to peck a small kiss on his lips, but he places his hands on your cheeks to stop you. He places his forehead on yours, eyes staring into yours as if he’s trying to read what your lips won’t give up.

“Is everything ok?”

You can feel a sting make its way through your body, but you ignore it. You have to ignore it.

“Yeah, I am. I promise I’ve just been b-“

“Baby, don’t lie to me. I’ve known you for long enough to know when you are. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been building up for so long, or it’s the look on his face or the tone of his voice. Whatever it is, it’s coming out.

“I-I really don’t know. I’m sorry Han, I don’t even know what I’m feeling.” You choke, a feeling of helplessness escaping its way from your heart.

“It’s like everything that I’ve been working for is falling apart in front of me, and it’s scary.” By now, he’s already wrapped his strong arms around your body, enveloping you in a comforting scent of lavender and love.

“I know. I know it’s scary. But you want to know something?” He proposes, and you sniffle and look at him, eyes filled to the brim with sincerity.

“You’re doing so well. You’re so smart, so strong, so independent. It’s okay to take breaks, it’s ok to struggle. Especially, it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to have moments where you feel like every thing is falling apart, but it’s important that you know it’s not.”

Have you ever felt a feeling like an immense weight being lifted off your shoulders? A feeling like a deep breath even though there’s no oxygen? If not, that’s surely what you’re feeling now.

“I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you.” You sniffle, scrubbing dripping tears off with your fist.

“Don’t say sorry. I forgive you. Forgive me for not coming sooner.” He says, rubbing the silk of your hair in a comforting manner.

“You have nothing to be forgiven about.” You mumble, clutching a fist onto his shirt where you hold yourself, still in the same area from where he had come in.

“Now you know how I feel when you keep saying sorry.” He teases, a small chuckle coming out as well. “Cmon, let’s get you something to eat and I’ll help you with anything you need.”

“Ok” you nod, following him as he opens and walks out the door of your room.

That’s what it will be. Everything will be okay when you have him.

[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3

Master & Servant

You either had become too comfortable in your position or you’d gotten too used to scolding the kids; either way, Bruce suddenly found himself at the end of your lectures. As the boss, he should have nipped it in the bud, but, truthfully, he liked it. He enjoyed the way you reigned him in when he got a bit too silly or arrogant—Even Alfred had come to appreciate his behavior a bit more afterward (especially when your reprimands pertained to Alfred doing work a man his age shouldn’t have been doing).

The kids had gone to school, and Bruce, after a night of festive activities, decided it would be best to stay home. He was in the middle of signing some documents when you knocked on the door to his study before entering with a cool expression on your face. Bruce didn’t bother to look up as you crossed the room to his desk, thinking you were there to cure a bit of your boredom. When a lacy pair of red panties slid in front of his paperwork he had to look up at you. 

“What’re you doing?” He said, pushing his chair away from his desk. Were you coming onto him?

You were quick to reach across and pull him back close to you. “Not so fast there, hon’. We have to talk.”

“I’m starting to think we do if this is how you seduce me,” Bruce said as he threw the underwear back toward you. 

You sighed before saying, “These—” You waved around the little piece of fabric. “—Were from your date last night.”

Bruce only managed out an, “Oh.”

“Oh. Would you like to know where I found them?” You spat out. No, he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t about to start answering rhetorical questions. “In the kids' playroom.” 

“Shit,” Bruce seethed out. He had been to a gala earlier in the evening, and, to keep the reporters at bay, decided to bring a pretty lady home. The sex was to relieve some stress, and, usually, he would be careful about where he had his intimate relations. But, he was so pent up that he must have been a bit reckless. That wasn’t like him at all, and he would ensure that it never happened again.

“Don’t leave things like this in there again, please,” You gritted out, tone stern and curt. “It’s incredibly irresponsible. Especially around young children, Mr. Wayne!”

“I know, you don’t need to tell me.” Bruce felt a lightness in his chest, almost fluttering. 

You threw the underwear in his lap. “Apparently I do! Imagine if Duke or Damian found that?”

Bruce was mortified at the thought, but mumbled, “We could always say it was yours.”

If looks could kill Bruce would be dead. You were not in the slightest bit amused and told him as much. You mentioned that the underwear wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg of the issue at hand. 

“You can fuck wherever you want, Bruce, but don’t do it around my kids. They don’t need to get caught up in your fucked up sex life!”

He knew it would be a bad time to point out that they were actually his kids. Overall, he agreed and promised you to never do it again. That seemed to pacify you, more so when he apologized for suggesting that they could pass off the panties as yours. 

 You expressed in a more calming tone, “I know you love the kids, but they’re already having a hard time coping with the rumors about you in the media. Don’t make it any worse by bringing it off the pages into their safe spaces.”

This is what Bruce liked about your reprimands, they brought reality back to him when lost it. You seemed done giving him a rightfully deserved scolding and began to take your leave. 

He called out to you, though, beckoning you back. When you approached, Bruce rounded his desk to get a bit closer to you. “Thank you for…being blunt with me.”

“Someone needs to,” You were quick to say. “Though, I’m starting to wonder who's the boss.”

Bruce smiled and chuckled, agreeing that the line had been blurred in moments like these. Looking down at the underwear in his hands, he finally got the courage to ask, “How’d you know they were my dates?” 

You smirked and laughed a little as you began to leave. “I don’t wear cheap panties. Do you need a lesson on that, too?”

[lvrgurlblobbu]

maybe next time?

college!zayne x fem!reader

⤿ CW: pure fluff!

⤿ word count: 2.3k

⤿ second part of code love series | previous part

ao3.

It’s been a week since you last saw Zayne, you’ve been going to the cafe where you saw him for the first time hoping that you’ll come across him again. But in the span of one week, you never saw him again.

What makes it worse is that you didn’t even know his major. You have no way of knowing where to look. The university’s campus is large, and without a clue as to where he spends his time, you feel like you’re grasping at straws. If only you had asked him just one more question, something, anything that could’ve given you a direction.

Today, though, was different. Your professor dismissed the class early due to an urgent meeting, leaving you with an unexpected chunk of free time. The lecture hall empties quickly, with students chatting amongst themselves and heading off to their next commitments. You sit there for a moment, gathering your things, the familiar hum of idle conversation swirling around you, but your thoughts remain focused elsewhere. You sling your bag over your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. Another day of fruitless searching. It’s starting to feel hopeless, like you’re just waiting for a chance that might never come.

Just as you’re about to leave, a voice calls out from behind you.

“Still thinking about that guy?”

You turn to see your friend Tara and Simone leaning against one of the desks, smirking knowingly. They were the only one you had confided in about Zayne—the stranger who had somehow left an imprint on your mind.

You hesitate before answering, but Simone doesn’t need a response. She roll her eyes playfully. “You’re down bad.”

You huff, shaking your head. “I just… I want to see him again.”

Tara crosses her arms. “Then maybe it’s time to change your strategy. You’ve been going to the same café all week. What if he only went there one time?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to you before. Had you been limiting yourself? You rack your brain for any other places Zayne could frequent. But with so little information about him, it feels like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“Okay, then what do you suggest?” you ask, raising a brow.

Your friends grin. “We ask around.”

Your heart skips a beat at the idea. It’s bold—maybe even a little embarrassing—but if it means finding Zayne, it just might be worth a shot.

“Oh Zayne! Yes, he's currently a sophomore majoring in Medical Biology.” A student said, which name is Greyson. As you looked at Greyson’s features, you remembered that he’s the colleague that Zayne was talking to in the cafeteria. He also happens to be Zayne’s close friend and a classmate of his.

“Is he around? Can we talk to him?” Tara asked, looking very much hopeful. But when Greyson scratched the back of his head as he looked at the three of you, you instantly knew his answer.

“About that, he’s currently busy with his lab work and volunteer hours at the hospital,” Greyson said apologetically. “He’s been swamped lately, so he doesn’t have much free time.”

Your heart sinks a little at the news. So that’s why you haven’t seen him. Still, at least now you know his major and have a better idea of where he spends his time.

Tara, ever the determined one, steps forward. “Do you know when he might be free?”

Greyson hesitates for a moment before sighing. “Honestly, he barely has time to breathe these days. But…” He glances at you, his expression thoughtful. “If you’re really looking for him, he usually hangs around the Medical Biology study lounge when he has a break.”

Your heart leaps at that. A lead.

“Where is it?” you ask immediately.

Greyson chuckles. “It’s in the West Science Building, second floor. But like I said, he’s really busy, so don’t get your hopes up too much.”

You nod, gripping the strap of your bag. Even if there’s only a small chance, you’re not giving up now.

Tara nudges you with a smirk. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

With renewed determination, you and your friends head toward the West Science Building, hoping that this time, luck is on your side.

“Luck is not on our side.” Simone mumbled as you sat at the couch, you looked everywhere in the lounge hoping for Zayne but it seems like he’s not here.

You sigh, slumping slightly into the couch. So close, yet still no sign of him.

Tara crosses her arms. “Maybe he’s just not here right now,” she suggests. “We could wait a little longer.”

Simone groans, stretching her legs out. “We’ve been here for almost an hour. What if we just missed him?”

The thought makes your stomach sink. You glance around the study lounge again—students are scattered at different tables, some buried in textbooks, others quietly discussing notes. But none of them are him.

Then, your phone suddenly received a notification from your sister telling you to come home immediately.

“Sorry girls, I gotta go.” You said as you stood up, Tara and Simone looking at you confused.

“Go where?” Tara asked.

“My sister just texted me. She says I need to come home right away,” you explain, shoving your phone into your pocket and grabbing your bag.

“But what about Zayne? We haven’t found him, and maybe he’ll come around here in the lounge after a minute or two.”

You hesitate, glancing toward the entrance of the lounge. Tara has a point—Zayne could show up any minute, and if you leave now, you might miss your chance to talk to him.

“I know,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “But my sister’s message sounded urgent. I can’t just ignore it.”

Simone shifts in her seat, thoughtful. “Do you want us to stay here and wait for Zayne? We can let you know if he shows up.”

“It’s totally up to you two, but I suggest for the both of you to head home.” You chuckled, “Bye girls, see you tomorrow!”

You stepped out of the lounge and made your way to the elevator, only to find a long line of students waiting. With a heavy sigh, you decided to take the stairs instead, knowing it would be faster. As you arrived at the building’s lobby, you roamed your eyes around for the last time hoping to see Zayne but then again, you failed.

It’s been fifteen minutes since you left the University, you’re sitting at the window seat of the bus as you rode your way home, earphones attached to your ears, but your mind is miles away. The hum of the bus and the steady rhythm of the wheels on the pavement should be comforting, but instead, it feels like the world outside is just another blur—like you're disconnected from everything around you.

Then, you suddenly received a notification from your friends.

Tara: (Name)! Guess who we saw! **see attached photo**

Your heart leaps into your throat as soon as the image loads. There, in the photo, is Zayne—just as you remember him, but somehow, this feels different. He’s walking into the lounge, a stack of books in his arms, looking completely absorbed in whatever conversation he's having with his colleagues. The familiar serious look is on his face, not the relaxed version from the café, but something more focused, more… composed. It’s strange to see him like this, like he’s someone else entirely, yet still undeniably him.

Simone: Omg, he’s at the lounge right now!!! Are you seeing this??? Tara: You better come quickly!

You chuckled at their message, as much as you wanted to get off the next stop to sprint to your University, your sister needs you at home.

You: Sorry girls, need to go home TT Tara: That’s alright! We got you ;)

You smile a little, the lighthearted tone of her message easing some of the tension. They know how much this means to you, and even though you can’t act on it right now, at least they’ve got your back. You’re grateful for their encouragement.

Simone: Okay, I just did the job.

You frown slightly, your fingers still hovering over your phone as you try to figure out how to respond to Simone’s message. There’s something in her tone that makes you pause, like she knows something you don’t. Maybe it’s just her way of teasing you, or maybe she’s genuinely onto something. Either way, the thought lingers in your mind as you stare at the screen for just a moment longer, but then you hear the bus driver announce your stop.

With a soft sigh, you slide your phone into your pocket, knowing you’ll have to pick this up later. You grab your things and step off the bus, the cool air immediately hitting your face as you make your way down the familiar streets toward home. Your mind is still buzzing with thoughts of Zayne, and despite the fact that you’re heading in the opposite direction now, you can’t shake the feeling that something’s about to change. The moment might not be today, but the universe has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.

The walk home is quiet, your footsteps the only sound filling the space between your thoughts. You pull your jacket a little tighter around you, your pace slow but steady, as you process everything that happened today.

You’ve finally arrived home, the familiar scent wraps around you, but before you can even settle into the moment, you hear the familiar voice of your sister coming from her room.

“Ugh, I just don’t know what to wear!” she calls out, frustration lacing her tone.

You smile to yourself. It’s always something with her, but at least it’s a distraction from your earlier thoughts. You drop your bag by the door and head toward her room. As you approach, you see her standing in front of her full-length mirror, holding up two completely different outfits—one casual, one more dressed-up—looking at herself with a furrowed brow.

After a few changes, your sister finally settled with the outfit she’s going to wear and immediately apologized for rushing you to come home. You just smiled at her and with a few finishing touches, she kissed your cheek for goodbye and she left.

You sit back on the couch, letting out a soft sigh. There’s a part of you that still feels a little restless, like you’re waiting for something to happen, something to change. It’s hard to shake off the idea of Zayne from earlier, the thought of seeing him again so close yet so far. But for now, there’s nothing to do but let things unfold.

You pull out your phone, checking the group chat once more. Simone’s last message is still there, waiting for you to dive into whatever she might have been teasing about. You smile to yourself, letting the tiny spark of curiosity push you to reply.

You were about to reply when a sudden text message from an unknown number caught your attention. Your heart skips a beat when you see the message from an unknown number. For a moment, you're frozen, unsure of what to expect. The familiar rush of excitement bubbles up, but you're also trying to stay grounded, telling yourself it could be anything.

You tap the message open, and the first thing you see is a simple text:

“Hey, it's Zayne. I know this might be a bit random, but Simone gave me your number. I hope that’s alright.”

Zayne. Zayne.

And then, Simone sent another message on your groupchat.

Simone: You’re welcome ;))

You giggled at her answer, you sent a reply to their message before opening your conversation with Zayne.

You: Hey, Zayne! Of course, that’s totally fine. It’s nice to hear from you!

You bite your nail absentmindedly, the seconds feeling like they stretch longer than usual as you wait for Zayne's response. Your thumb hovers over your phone, checking the time, then glancing back at the screen, expecting the little bubbles to pop up any second. The anticipation feels almost unbearable—like this could be the moment where something shifts, or maybe it’ll fizzle out. You have no idea, but you really hope it’s the former.

You’re starting to second-guess everything, wondering if your reply sounded too casual, too eager, or even too boring. Then your phone buzzes, breaking the silence, and you almost jump in surprise.

Zayne’s reply lights up the screen:

Zayne: Glad to hear that! I’ve been a bit busy with school stuff, but I was hoping we could meet up soon. Maybe we can actually schedule our next meet up or date?

Date. Date.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of date. You stare at the message, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves wash over you. It’s like he’s finally saying what you’ve both been dancing around, but now that it's out in the open, the weight of it is both thrilling and a little intimidating.

Date. The word keeps echoing in your head as you read the message over again, your thumb hovering over the reply button. He wants to meet up soon. He wants to actually schedule something. This isn’t just a passing interest anymore. He’s serious about wanting to see you.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus and not overthink. You quickly type your reply, making sure to keep it light but still show that you’re just as excited as he seems.

You: That sounds awesome! I’d love to. Just let me know when you're free, and we’ll make it happen!

You smile as you send it, feeling a little giddy but also relieved. There’s no turning back now—you’re both on the same page, and it feels like the start of something exciting. You can’t help but feel a little thrill at the thought of seeing him again, but for now, all you can do is wait for his reply and hope that this “date” really does come together.

dividers by: @dollywons

[emsdevs]

The Return

Bear and Bug 🐻🐞

a/n: surprise!! kirby talked me into splitting this part up, so you all get one more part of the main conflict after this!! enjoy!!!

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Bear and Bug Masterlist

Three weeks had passed since you arrived at Cole’s place, and he’s been trying everything under the sun to get you to return to the lake house with him. Today, after getting out of bed, you find out he’s pulled out the big guns. When you walk into the living room, you’re met with not only Cole but also Trevor and Alex. Apparently, Cole had filled them in on the situation, and they changed their flights to Montreal to come help. 

“C’mon. It can’t be that bad. I know for a fact Jack misses you,” Trevor is currently trying to encourage you to come with them, your packed suitcase sitting beside him. At some point during the night, they had snuck into your room and packed your bags, leaving you with no “good” excuse not to go with them.

“You talked to him?” your head shoots toward Trevor, hope filling your eyes. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

“...No,” he looks toward the ground as he speaks, “but! I know Jack, and I know he’s probably falling apart at the seams if you two haven’t talked in three weeks. You’re his person. He’s probably dying right now.”

“Oh, great. I’m killing my best friend! This is exactly what I was worried about when Quinn and I got together. He’s been having such a tough time, and I’ve made it a hundred times worse. I’ll be lucky if he ever talks to me again.”

“You’re right. She is being dramatic,” Alex whispers to Cole before stepping forward to try to comfort you. “Look, sweetheart, the only way to make this any better is to bite the bullet. I know you’re scared, but you can’t keep running away from it.”

You were silent for a moment, shocked by the wisdom from Alex. After gathering your thoughts, you spoke, “You’re right. Let me go be sure you all got everything, and then we can head out.”

“No way that worked,” Cole couldn’t believe their plan worked in their favor.

“Bro, when did you become a shrink?”

~~

The tension at the lake house was higher than ever. Ellen and Jim had given up on trying to help their sons work out their issues, so they drove back home for a while, letting the boys stew in their anger. The boys had done nothing except that. Quinn and Luke silently shared an alliance while Jack either ignored them completely or began picking fights. 

“Hope you two are ready to go running back to your precious Bug,” Jack told the other two boys as he walked to the kitchen to grab a snack.

“What do you mean?” Luke answered, sass written all over his question.

“Trev just texted me. He, Alex, and Cole just boarded their flight. With Bug.”

“She’s coming back?” Quinn couldn’t hide the hope in his voice. He didn’t care how Jack felt anymore. He was miserable, and he needed his Bug. 

“Don’t get all excited. That doesn’t mean she’s getting back together with you,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you think she’s coming back for you,” Luke doesn’t even attempt to hide the sneer in his voice.

“She’s my best friend, Lukey. Of course, she’s coming back to get in my good graces.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at how you’ve been treating her, Jack! We’re all lucky she’s even coming back at all!” Quinn is angry now. You’ve probably been hurting more than he has for the past three weeks, and Jack is acting all high and mighty like you’ll come crawling back to him. As far as Quinn is concerned, you don’t need to come crawling back to anybody. If anything, the three of them owe you an apology.

“Of course, you’re sticking up for her! God, she has you wrapped around her finger! You’re so whipped you can’t see that she’s the problem here!”

“No, you don’t get to do that. You know Quinn is right. You’ve been horrible to her, and she deserves an apology. From all of us, honestly. Jesus, I mean, she even put you’re feelings above her happiness. She and Quinn could have been so happy, but you were complaining about how horrible the NHL is every night, so her main concern was protecting you. Mind you, you are not one of the two people in that relationship, so the fact she took your feelings about it into account at all is a kind of grace that you obviously don’t deserve. Why don’t you get down from your high horse and think about everything Bug has done for you? Then, you can tell us if she’s the one that needs to apologize or not,” Luke doesn’t give Jack time to answer, walking off as soon as he finishes his speech. Quinn doesn’t hesitate in following, only giving Jack a sharp look before making his way to your room once again. He found Luke already there, so they sat on your bed together, putting on a movie and soon falling asleep.

Jack, now alone in the living room, takes the time to do as Luke said. He thought back to when he knew you’d be his best friend forever. You two had silently agreed to have separate friend groups at school, but when you saw Jack’s friends had left him alone one day at lunch, you left your friends to go sit with him. They stopped talking to you after that, but you were fine with it because you had Jack. He thought about everything you had sacrificed for him, even skipping out on joining an afterschool club because it would conflict with some of his game times. How many times had you put Jack first, even when you could’ve had something really good for you if you had put yourself first? He could think of at least one: Quinn. He’s a horrible best friend. 

Jack lost track of how long he sat there, losing himself in his thoughts that were slowly becoming more and more self-deprecating, but before he knew it, he heard the front door opening. Moments later, he jumps to his feet when he sees you walk into the living area.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath.

“Hey.”

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @hockey43 @madebyhappymeals @ccomandercody @kirajessie @beenucks @iamspeed6

join the taglist

[365emotionlessfaces]

This is going to be a 10 part fic 🙃 I wrote it for entirely selfish reasons, but if you guys enjoy it, even better.

Melissa meets a girl at The Aspiring Teachers Program, but she’s just a kid. Many years later, she meets you and wonders if she should let go of the past.

The Aspiring Teachers Program

Part 1 WC~1.5k

Melissa was thirty-five and going through a nasty divorce from a nasty man. She had been in the teaching game for a decade now, and the last thing she wanted to do was volunteer for some Aspiring Teachers Program. Well, second to last. The redhead supposed that the only thing worse would be to be spending the week in the same house as Joe.

When she had told her friend, Barbara from work, the woman had just laughed and said that she had quit going to those things years ago. Too much hullabaloo for her liking. But Melissa needed out of the house, so she decided this would be the first and the last time she signed up for this stupid program.

The end of the school year came faster than Melissa would have liked, and by the second day of summer break, her suitcase was packed and she was on a flight to Chicago, of all places. The stupid program chose a new city and a different mix of teachers every year, so there was no guarantee you’d get an invite. To Melissa, that didn’t sound like too bad a deal. Yeah, sure, she’d have to be around a bunch of eighteen to twenty year olds, answer their questions, try to get them interested in teaching, and she was definitely not thrilled about that, but it beat what was waiting at home. Plus, it was all expenses paid.

When Melissa’s taxi pulled up to the camp, the literal camp, she started to think maybe she shouldn’t have come. It was very… rustic. Looking around, she realized that this thing was a lot bigger than she had anticipated. There must be at least a hundred people walking around. She noted the woman with the bullhorn seemed to have a sense of calm in the chaos that looked to be surrounding her. As Melissa exited the taxi, the bullhorn lady could be heard calling out names and assigning them to cabins. She rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long week.

As she stood amongst the crowd, but far enough back that she had a healthy amount of personal space, she listened for her name. A girl hollering off to her left made her turn her head to see the hubbub.

“Yo, Tie-Dye Girl. A little help here!” A young girl of probably twenty or so, stood in front of a giant pile of duffel bags and suitcases and waved to a woman in her forties wearing a campy tie-dyed shirt, who promptly turned on her heel and came to the girl's rescue. Melissa rolled her eyes.

“It’s giving Parent Trap,” a voice from Melissa’s right jolted her away from the tie-dye scene and to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed teenager that stood beside her. The shock of the girl being so close startled Melissa so much, she let out a small yelp.

“What the hell are ya doin’, kid?” Melissa snapped. “I coulda killed ya.” The girl was not affected by Melissa’s harshness, or if she was, she certainly didn’t show it. In fact, Melissa was sure she saw the girl’s grin grow wider before she replied.

“Sorry,” the girl was radiating happiness and cheer, and it was almost enough to make Melissa sick. “You were standing here all alone, so I thought I’d make a friend.” The girl’s smile was so bright and strong, Melissa wondered if the girl ever stopped smiling. “It just reminds me of a movie from when I was a little girl.”

“You’re still a little girl.”

“I’m young, sure, but I’m almost twenty,” Melissa huffed at the girl’s response. Her smile still hadn’t faltered.

“Listen, I’m not a good friend, okay? So why don’t ya go make friends with those guys over there?” The redhead pointed randomly in the crowd, hoping the young girl would get the hint and leave her the hell alone. She wanted to enjoy this week as much as she could, and having a thorn in her side would not make that task easy.

After the young girl kept trying to make conversation, and had gone so far as to introduce herself, Melissa felt obligated to at least give the kid a name.

“Em,” she had told her. When the girl asked for her full name, or even her last name, Melissa joked with her. “What are you? The cops? If you’re the cops, you gotta tell me!” The young girl laughed and seemed to leave the matter alone after that.

Melissa had gone to the restroom, and when she returned to her bags, the young girl and her bags had gone. She took that as a small blessing and continued to listen for her name. Once given her cabin, she trudged her way to it, bags trailing along with her. She pushed through the cabin door, looked around the room, and thanked her lucky stars that the remaining bed free of luggage was the bottom of one of the two bunk beds. She’d be damned if she had to climb a freakin’ ladder to get to bed!

She unpacked the clothes and most of things she brought, and headed to the mess hall where the first meeting would be held. This would be where Teacher Buddies would be assigned and Melissa got to find out who she’d be spending the next two weeks with. Melissa was considered a Veteran Teacher, despite the fact that she was only in her mid thirties. She supposed it was due to the fact that the older teachers knew better than to come to these things. Since she was of the higher rank, she would be assigned to an Aspiring Teacher. One of these fresh-faced little things that had their whole lives ahead of them, and they wanted to teach. Poor things.

When she entered the hall, it was all abuzz. It was worse than the cafeteria at her elementary school the day after Halloween. There were grown adults and young adults laughing and yelling happily alike. Despite all the noise, Melissa thought it was kinda nice to see a room full of happy faces. Even if she knew most of them wouldn’t last. She looked around and found a few faces that looked like they wouldn’t be too much trouble for the next week. She hoped that she got one of them.

She was approached by the bullhorn lady, only this time she didn’t have the bullhorn, and was told that as a Veteran Teacher, she would go up on the stage with the other Veterans and draw the name of their Aspiring Teacher. This idea was not as thrilling to Melissa as Bullhorn Lady was trying to make it seem, but she did it anyway. When it was her turn, and she pulled out the name that young girl from earlier had given her, she considered making up a fake name, and pretending that her Aspiring Teacher hadn’t shown up. Unfortunately, before she could enact that plan, Bullhorn Lady took the paper and read the young girl’s name out loud. There was clapping and hooting, and then there the girl was again.

She and Melissa made their way to a table in the back and sat down. Melissa looked at the girl as she made some comments about not believing in fate or destiny and some bullcrap about coincidences, and the redhead wondered why the girl would tell her something like that. The girl had that damn smile, still, and her eyes were… kinda shiny. Melissa wondered if she had been that beautiful when she was younger. Surely not, or she wouldn’t currently be going through a divorce.

“So, whattaya think?” The young girl asked, making Melissa snap back to reality.

“Sorry, Parent Trap. I wasn’t listenin’. Whadja say?” This time when the girl smiled, there was something else to it. The redhead noticed the difference, but couldn’t quite tell what it meant. Melissa had to work to focus on what she was saying instead of getting lost in her thoughts again.

“I was thinking that you could hit me with the worst of it first. Tell me all the horror stories about teaching, so I can steel myself for them now, ya know? And then if I can make it through those, maybe you can tell me why it’s worth it?”

Those plans were foiled before Melissa could be the one to break the girl’s heart. Bullhorn Lady announced that the week would be a series of competitions and games for the Buddies, and the free time at the end of the nights would be dedicated to asking and answering all the questions the Aspiring Teachers had. Melissa groaned. This is not what she thought this week would look like.

When she returned to her cabin after everyone was released from the mess hall, Melissa was surprised to see that not only was the young girl her Buddy, she was also one of her three roommates. ‘Oh, boy. This just keeps getting better.’ She decided that it was in her best interest to mind her business, and only talk to the girl when necessary. So she grabbed her pajamas, and changed in the tiny bathroom provided in the corner of the only slightly larger cabin. The air was warm for Chicago, which made Melissa very glad that she chose the outfits she did. When she returned to her bed in her light pink silk tank top and matching shorts, she was too focused on minding her own business that she didn’t notice the young girl’s eyes glued to her frame or how flushed the girl’s face had become.

Part Two

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

um- can we have shadow with a reader who gets chronic headaches- theg didnt tell shadow until they got one bad enough to cause tears because they are so used to headaches at that point- and shadow is a gentle fluffy bot there to help

“I’m Always Here to Help”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: You always wound up with chronic headaches on the worst of days. Luckily you had your partner to help you out this time.

Notes: More fluff, more fluff, more fluff! I hope you enjoy, anon!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

(TW for swearing, but only for one bit of dialogue.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Blinking your eyes open, you take in your surroundings, groaning a bit as you rub your forehead with your pointer finger and thumb.

You woke up with one of your chronic headaches.

Great.

The room around you is a bit dark, but there’s sunlight peeking through your curtain.

…Unfortunately right onto your face.

You put your arm over your eyes, letting off a sigh.

It’s fine, you’ve dealt with your headaches before.

You sit up from your bed, uncovering your face, and trudge off of the bed with a small yawn.

You head out of your room, entering the kitchen, seeing your partner, Shadow, making breakfast. From what it smells like, he’s making bacon and eggs.

“Morning, [Name],” Shadow says. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did,” you mutter. “You?”

“It was decent,” Shadow replies. “Sleeping beside you always makes it better.”

You let off a smile at that.

“Could you put four pieces of bread in the toaster?” Shadow asks.

“Sure thing,” you say.

You open the bread and pop the four pieces into the toaster, pushing the button down.

…Only for it to come back up.

Confused, you look at the dial, and surely enough, it’s at its usual spot.

You then check if it’s plugged in, which it’s not.

You plug it in and push the button down again, and it works this time.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief. You didn’t want to have to buy a new toaster.

After about a minute, the toast is done, and you butter each piece, placing two each on a plate just as Shadow finishes the food.

The two of you eat your breakfast, chatting about whatever, and after eating, Shadow quickly does the dishes, and the two of you head off to the couch to watch something.

…Only for Shadow to get a call on his communicator.

Grumbling, Shadow answers the call.

“What do you-”

“Shads! Sorry for the sudden call, but we could really use some backup!” the voice of Sonic says.

“And you couldn’t call any of your friends?” Shadow asks.

“Yeahh, about that- They’re all already here,” Sonic says. “You’re the last one I could call.”

Shadow lets out a sigh.

“On my way,” Shadow says, ending the call. “I’ll be back.”

“Stay safe, okay?” you request.

Shadow nods before Chaos Controlling away.

You let off a sigh of your own. You would’ve hoped hanging out with your partner would get rid of your headache, but now that was cancelled.

So you have to find some other way to get rid of your headache. So be it.

You start off by drinking some water and taking two pain relievers, which unfortunately will take a while to kick in, so now you need to pass the time.

Maybe…you could go on a run? No, your headache would get worse from that.

You could…clean the house? No, Shadow does that during his spare time.

May…be…baking?

Yes! Baking would be great!

Baking isn’t stressful, surely?

Besides, you can make something nice for you and Shadow to enjoy!

Getting out the ingredients to make a chocolate cake, you get to work.

Eggs, baking powder, flour, sugar-

Oops.

A bit too much sugar.

That’s okay, you can deal with that much.

A bit of vanilla extract, chocolate, and…

Okay! All mixed!

Pouring the mixture into a baking pan, you set it in the oven and let it bake for the required time while you make the frosting.

You put on your oven mitts to take the cake out, and-

…Wait, why does it smell like something’s burning?!

You quickly open the oven, and black smoke comes out of it, causing you to cough, backing away from the smoke while waving the smoke away from your eyes.

Once the smoke subsides you fall to your knees.

The tears from not only the pain of your headache, but from losing the cake you worked hard on, start pouring out of your eyes, and you choke out a sob.

You feel a pair of arms quickly wrap around you, and you turn around almost as fast, burying your head into your partner’s chest as you let the tears fall.

“Shhh, I’m here,” Shadow says. “Let it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

He holds you in his arms until you stop crying, and you let out a sad sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shadow asks.

“I…yeah,” you mutter. “I just…of course the day I want to do something nice for us is when I have a chronic headache…”

Shadow kisses your forehead before putting his hand on your cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, sunshine,” Shadow says.

“Eh, it’s not your fault…The pain medicine finally decided to kick in, anyway, so it’s not as bad,” you tell him, leaning into his touch. “How did the fight go?”

“Kicked Eggman’s ass,” Shadow says nonchalantly. “Also got to see the Faker get his shit wrecked, so that was funny.”

You let out a chuckle at the mental image of this.

Even though you two had vastly different days, at least you could always come home to each other to make each other’s day.

[lanaroff]

Is it too late? Part 2

Paring: WandaNat x Daughter Reader

*****************************************************************

Y/N had miscalculated.

She thought she was getting better, stronger, smarter. She thought she had control. But as she lay on the cold pavement, blood pooling beneath her, she realized just how wrong she had been.

She had picked a fight with the wrong men. Armed, organized, ruthless. Not just common street thugs but something worse. A gang that knew how to fight back. And they had.

Pain throbbed through her body—her ribs felt shattered, her head was spinning, and she could feel the warm, sticky sensation of blood seeping from a wound on her side. She tried to move, but every attempt sent sharp agony through her limbs. She was barely conscious when she heard them talking.

"Is she dead?" one of the men muttered.

"Not yet," another one answered, cocking a gun. "But she will be."

Panic surged through her. She tried to lift her arm, to fight, to do something, but her body betrayed her. She was helpless.

And then—

A blur of red and blue. A web shot rang out, followed by a grunt of surprise. The gun clattered to the ground. Y/N barely registered the commotion as her vision swam in and out, but she knew someone else was there. Someone fast. Someone strong.

Spider-Man.

Peter took down the men in a matter of seconds, his heart pounding as he shot web after web, disarming and knocking them out. Once the last of them was on the ground, groaning in pain, he turned back to the beaten figure lying in the dim glow of the streetlights.

He approached cautiously, his breath catching when he noticed the masked vigilante barely moving. "Hey—hey, are you okay?" he asked, kneeling beside them.

No response.

Carefully, he reached out and pulled back the mask.

His stomach dropped. "Oh my God—Y/N?!"

His best friend. His friend had been the one out here, fighting, getting herself beaten to a pulp. Panic set in as he gently lifted her, ignoring the blood staining his suit. "Shit, shit, shit," he whispered, trying to keep his hands steady. "You’re gonna be okay, I promise. Just—just hang in there."

He didn’t hesitate. He webbed up the unconscious criminals for the police and took off, cradling Y/N as he swung through the city.

The Avengers Compound, Medbay.

Bruce Banner had seen a lot of injuries in his time, but when Peter Parker burst into the compound with Y/N’s unconscious body in his arms, his stomach twisted.

"Help! I need help!" Peter shouted as he landed inside, his voice laced with fear. "It’s Y/N—she’s—she’s hurt bad!"

Bruce was already moving, calling for Dr. Cho. The medical team rushed forward, lifting Y/N onto a stretcher and wheeling her into surgery. Peter stood frozen, blood—her blood—coating his hands.

Then, Bruce turned to FRIDAY. "Call Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Now."

Back at home, Natasha and Wanda had just settled into bed when FRIDAY’s voice cut through the quiet.

"Mrs. Maximoff. Ms. Romanoff. There is an emergency at the Avengers Compound. You are needed immediately."

Wanda sat up instantly, panic flashing in her eyes. "What? What happened?"

"It’s Y/N."

Confusion struck both of them. "What do you mean?" Natasha asked, already throwing the blankets off. "She’s sleeping."

But something about it didn’t sit right. A horrible feeling churned in her stomach as she moved, faster than she ever had, bolting toward Y/N’s room. Wanda followed closely behind.

Natasha pushed the door open in a rush, eyes scanning the darkened room. The bed was empty.

The window was wide open.

"No," Natasha breathed, stepping closer. "No, no, no."

Her heart pounded as she turned to Wanda, whose face had gone pale. "She’s gone," Natasha said, voice shaking. "She snuck out."

Wanda covered her mouth with a trembling hand, horror settling deep in her chest. "Nat… where is she?"

Neither of them had time to answer because, in the next second, they were already running for the car.

The drive was a blur. Wanda clutched Natasha’s hand tightly, her other hand trembling against her lap. Her mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. "Nat, I—I can’t—"

"We need to be strong," Natasha said firmly, though her own voice wavered. She squeezed Wanda’s hand, anchoring her. "No matter what happens, we have to be strong. For Y/N. For each other."

Wanda nodded, but her breath came shallow, her chest tightening with every second that passed.

By the time they reached the compound, Peter was waiting for them, his face pale, his eyes red-rimmed. "Mrs. Maximoff, Ms. Romanoff—"

"Where is she?" Natasha demanded.

Peter swallowed hard. "Medbay. It was bad. I—I found her in an alley. She was fighting these guys, but there were too many. She was—she was bleeding, she was barely conscious—" His voice broke. "I didn’t know it was her until I took off the mask. I didn’t know."

Natasha’s hands clenched into fists. Wanda’s breath hitched, her hands covering her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

Bruce approached them, his expression grim. "She has several broken ribs, a gunshot wound to the side, severe bruising, and a concussion. She lost a lot of blood. The next few hours are critical."

Wanda couldn’t breathe. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. She turned and bolted down the hallway, desperate for air.

Natasha was after her in a second, grabbing her wife before she could collapse. "Hey, hey—look at me. She’s alive. She’s fighting. But she needs us to be strong."

Wanda gripped Natasha’s arms, her whole body trembling. "She was supposed to be safe, Nat. She was supposed to be home. How—how did we miss this?"

Natasha’s jaw tightened, her own guilt crashing over her. "We’ll figure it out. Right now, she needs us."

Twelve agonizing hours later, Dr. Cho stepped into the waiting room. Natasha and Wanda jumped to their feet, hearts pounding.

"She made it through surgery," Cho announced, offering them a small, tired smile. "But we had to put her in an induced coma to let her body heal. It’s going to be a long recovery."

The relief was instant but bittersweet. Wanda broke down in Natasha’s arms, sobbing, while Natasha held her tightly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"She’s alive," Natasha whispered. "She’s alive. That’s all that matters."

But even as she said it, her heart ached with the knowledge that when Y/N woke up, they would have a lot to talk about.

[ilikekidsshows]

Have you seen the Sublimation leaks? Pretty much the entire episode has been leaked by now and people have made a 19 minutes super cut xD I'm asking cause I don't want to send an ask about Sublimation if you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled

---

The entire episode came out while I was busy answering the ask game and I checked it out to respond to this ask properly . But, for future reference: unless it’s a show I’m liveblogging it’s open to spoil.

Okay, so the episode went just like I predicted with Marinette easily forgiven. Even before I saw the whole thing, I saw the collected clips and I could smell the upcoming Marinette validation in the final scenes. And yet, just like this show does time and time again, it's still worse than even what I prepared for. Of course the episode couldn't just be "Marinette gets forgiven without her having to do anything", of course her saying sorry and making reparations aren't just things she does after being forgiven, like she's the one rewarding her victims for their good behavior of forgiving her. No, they had to go even further and end the episode with Marinette's victim coddling her over her "friendship fears".

This episode is so manipulative in how hard it leans on the audience to pity Marinette throughout. Like, seriously, her Lucky Charm calls her the villain? The amount of self-pity there goes way beyond all the other cases of Marinette acting like this that have come before. Little miss “if I make myself miserable asking me to make up for what I did wrong would be cruel” now has her own superpowers take part in her self-flagellation just to make sure no one with the actual right to be mad at her gets there first.

Marinette always does this. She makes a mistake and rather than think of a way to make up for it, she calls herself the worst and whines. “The Lucky Charm pointed her out as the villain” is not Marinette facing consequences or the episode treating her as in the wrong. It’s once again Marinette being her own worst critic whenever she does something wrong, to make sure the audience feels bad for her first and foremost so that they can instantly forgive her even when she never actually learns. “Marinette loves to learn,” my ass. “The villain was me” is just “I’m the worst Guardian” with a new coat of paint.

The important part is that the person with the right to be mad at Marinette, Sublime, had already forgiven her before Marinette even had her little villain realization. Just because a character says something that’s right on paper doesn’t mean it’s being presented as the correct perspective in the episode. It depends on that framing I’ve been harping on about. So, while Sublimation rightfully chewed Marinette out, all the scenes before her Akumatization have her acting entitled, cold and harsh, calling Sublime’s dad a failure and getting on his case for coddling her when he merely offers her a balancing hand and not taking Sublime’s opinions on things into account. In all these scenes, her husband talks calmly while she’s snapping; the writers intend her to come across as misguided or downright unreasonable. This makes it so that her yelling at Marinette comes across as her just being unreasonable again and like we’re meant to see her as being mean, especially because Marinette also looks the saddest in the episode specifically when Sublimation is yelling at her. To further make Sublimation's points worthless, her power to make people the best version of themselves doesn't work on Marinette because she already "perfect". If she's already so perfect, then why does she keep doing this shit?

The only characters calling Marinette out are herself, in her typical “I’m the worst” fashion, and a “jerk-coded” character whose opinion we aren't supposed to respect. This was already visible in the leaked scenes and made it very clear to me that Marinette wouldn’t be suffering any real consequences for what she did, her feeling guilty is meant to be the consequence and punishment. And I was proven correct. When Sublimation is dealt with, no one is mad at Marinette anymore, because being mad at her is what villains do. It doesn’t matter that Marinette claims she was in the wrong because she does it in an overly exaggerated manner that the viewer won’t take seriously. It doesn’t matter that the other characters have a “this is going to end poorly” attitude about Marinette’s nonsense, when they’re clearly pitying Marinette and not her target. It doesn’t matter that Marinette gets called out when the character doing it is the supervillain in an altered state of mind we’re supposed to see as unreasonable.

This episode is so disrespectful towards Sublime. No one voices concern over whether or not she would need to be protected from the downfall of Marinette’s shenanigans, all Tikki, Alya and Trixx are concerned with are that Marinette will come out of this smelling like roses with that “mistakes are an opportunity to earn and Marinette loves to learn” nonsense. Yeah, Marinette loves mistakes because no one is ever concerned with the people those mistakes hurt! Sublime should not be getting treated as a teaching aid in universe, when she’s supposed to be a person Marinette wants to befriend. Like, it’s clear she only wants to befriend Sublime for control freak reasons to make sure she isn’t talking to Adrien behind her back, considering how obsessed she is with that thought, but that is still the stated end goal.

Speaking of, Sublime should not have wanted to be friends with Marinette no matter if Adrien told her she has difficulties making friends, her reaction to Ladybug shattering her legs should not have been “I’m okay!” She should want to stay away from Marinette’s clearly unbalanced ass. She should have been pissed at Ladybug, it was her right. But, no, she couldn’t possibly be upset about any of that because being upset at Marinette is what bad people do and Sublime is a good person and good people always put Marinette’s feelings before their own. It’s a good thing Marinette’s Miraculous Ladybug can fix any damage caused by anyone on the same day a villain fight happens or otherwise she couldn’t have rewarded Sublime and her family for being such good people who forgave her before she could even apologize or make reparations.

Also, if I got cornered by my new friend’s stalker girlfriend alone in a dressing room, I’d book it, not offer to talk about whatever she wanted to talk about to make her comfortable with me. Everyone in Miraculous is either a master of emotional control, or they get Akumatized, except, of course, for Marinette, who can do whatever messed up thing she comes up when she's having an emotion and she will be instantly forgiven because she was just being emotional. Well, in the real world, sometimes, when you do messed up things because of your emotions, another person's emotions make them yell at you for it, and they'll be right to do so.

The fact that Marinette did all that and is getting rewarded with the friendship she wanted at the start of the episode and more coddling from her victim just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Marinette’s magical powers of super convenience fixed her mistakes as a superhero and her super perfect therapist boyfriend's damage control saved her civilian reputation, not her own actions. And she still dared to be upset when she heard that Sublime had been talking with Adrien behind her back, because god forbid Adrien spend time with people who are not Marinette or a part of Marinette’s posse. What is Marinette teaching kids in this episode? That it’s okay if you fuck up and act like a menace as long as you say “I’m sowwy, I don’t deserve to be our friend”. Still keeping up the trend of teaching kids exactly how to manipulate people into forgiving you, I see.

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 27 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day two: "it's okay, i couldn't sleep anyways."

ᰔ pairing: javier peña x reader

ᰔ summary: you're having a bad day. only one person can make you feel better, but he's in another country. you take a chance and give him a ring.

ᰔ author's note: javi i could treat you right 🖐️😔 i would do unreal things if it meant i could have ten more seasons of narcos but it's just steve and javier.

ᰔ content warning: brief grouchy javi. gn!reader. no discernible descriptions of reader. smoking. mentions of violence and murder. sleepy javi. mentions of alcohol consumption.

Javier took a long drag from his cigarette. He thought by now, after how long it'd been since he started smoking, the burn would go away. That, or he'd get tired of the feeling. That ache in his chest, the smell that lingered on everything he came into contact with.

He flicked it, the ends of the roll settled in the ashtray near him. As he watched, he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. The numbers, green with a static glow, reminded him that it was well into the night. His thoughts drifted as he took another long drag.

A shrill ring startled him. The phone rarely rang at this hour, and when it did, it tended to be work related. Javier thought of letting the rings die out, but he went against it. Instead, he picked it up and put the cigarette in the ashtray.

"Peña," he answered. His tone was gruff, a signal to whoever was on the other side that it was late. They had to know he was asleep, or at least should have been. He sounded tired enough to make it convincing enough.

"Oh shit, it's the middle of the night, isn't it?" Your worried voice came over the phone. "Goddamn it, this fucking time change thing. I'm sorry, baby. Go back to sleep."

Javier relaxed at the sound of your voice. Hell, he even chuckled to himself as he heard you worry to yourself. As you huffed, he picked the cigarette back up.

"It's okay, I couldn't sleep anyways. You okay, cariño?" He asked, though he knew the answer. You had always been on top of checking the time in Medellín before you called. If that had been thrown to the wind, he knew something was on your mind.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay," you lied. "Just called to talk to you and forgot the time difference." Even without looking at you, Javier clocked you in a second.

"Coming from you? You always check the time before you call."

You bit your lower lip, tears collected at the waterline and ready to slip down your cheeks. He was right, you were always diligent when it came to the time. Javier was doing important work, and you hated the idea of him not getting rest. If he was tired at work, there was an accident waiting to happen.

There was a beat before you realized he had called your name over the receiver. The way he spoke, the tone in his voice, you knew Javier knew you'd had a bad day. He knew you through and through, for better and for worse.

"I'm sorry. Look, it's late and you need-" Javier stopped you before you could continue.

"I need you to talk to me. I wasn't sleeping anyways. What happened?"

It was pointless to try and push back. You had met your match, and his name was Javier Peña. After you took a deep breath, you went on to recount your day.

It had been one bad thing after another, all far away from the place you called home. You were out of the states on work, which only added to the ache that was missing Javier. After your rental blew a tire on your way back to the hotel you were staying in, you'd had enough. You knew you needed to call him as soon as you got back to your hotel. Not without a drink or two at the bar first. Javi had his vices, you had yours.

Now, you lamented to him with a slight wobble in your voice, a mix of vodka and tears. It was the reason you hadn't checked the time, the drink left your mind with a sole mission.

"And now I'm calling you in the middle of the night, a little drunk and fucking- I miss you. I just really fucking miss you," you finally sobbed. It had been pent up, but you both knew it well enough. You knew Javier missed you too, even if he hadn't said it. It came out in other ways.

"I know, cariño. I'm sorry it's been such a terrible day," Javier frowned. He lit another cigarette, the other one finished off as you talked.

It made his chest ache to know that you were alone and so upset. If he'd been younger, more reckless- if that was even possible, he might have said fuck it and headed back to the states. Threw this whole operation to the wind and let Steve head the whole thing.

Unfortunately for the both of you, Javier knew he had to stick this out. He had to see the fall of Escobar with his own eyes and hopefully at his own hand. The pay off was worth it, or at least that's what he told himself. When he made it back home, he knew he would make it up to you tenfold. It was a promise he made to both you and himself.

"It's not your fault. Hearing from you has helped already," you assured him. It was true. There were days where you'd worry yourself sick that something had happened and you were too far away to learn about it until it was too late.

"May not be my fault, but I can be sorry for not being there. Look, I have a feeling I'll be back home for a day or two while we handle some legal shit. When do you get back from your work trip?" Javier wasn't supposed to return home for his brief trip back to the states, but he had to. He'd do what he'd have to if it meant he got to see you again.

"Day after tomorrow, if I don't fly home in the middle of the night," you made a weak attempt at a joke. "If you can't-"

"I will. Let me see you while I can. I miss you."

Even if he didn't say it often, it was still nice to hear. You finally wiped at your cheeks and took a deep breath. It was nice to have something to hold out for, something to grip on to and hold against your chest.

"Okay. I can pick you and Steve up from the airport," you offered.

"Thank you, cariño. I'll call you when I know more. You gonna be okay for the rest of the night? We can stay on the phone until you go to bed," Javier offered. It was expensive, but it was the DEA's money, not his.

"I'll be okay. I think I just need to sleep it all off," you sighed. "I love you. Thank you for letting me keep you up."

"I love you too. Get some sleep." Javier finished off his second cigarette. He didn't light a third. After hearing you at ease, it settled something in his muscles. Sleep wasn't going to come easy, but he was able to finally settle against the mattress.

"Only if you do the same. Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, my love."

To his surprise, Javier did sleep that night. Every hour that passed was one closer to seeing you.

[nyoomfruits]

46. Confessions during an argument. Nortrell pls

“Why are you here.” It’s not a question, really. It’s a statement. An annoyed one, paired with crossed arms and a pinched mouth.

“Well, you weren’t answering my fucking texts, so,” Max says, holding up his hands as if to say ‘what else was I supposed to do’. Which. Really. What else was he supposed to do? This season has been bad. Sure, Lando won, has been winning, but the press has been brutal, putting expectations on his shoulders Lando’s never going to meet, making his mental health worse by the day.

So yeah, after last week’s race, after last week’s shit show, and with Lando not replying to his text messages for over eight hours, yeah, he’d been worried. Fucking sue him.

“I’m fine,” Lando says, defensively. He’s not fine. He’s in sweatpants and a hoodie, Quadrant branded, but they’ve seen better days. There’s a stain on the sleeve, some kind of sauces. It looks dried in. Days old, maybe. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are small. Red. Tired looking.

Aside from that, the apartment is a mess, food containers on the coffee table, cans of energy on the kitchen table, random bits of paper on the couch.

“Okay,” Max says. “Sure, yeah. Whatever. Just tell me what you want me to do, yeah?” He could clean a bit. Get Lando a proper meal. Make sure he gets some sleep. Lando sleeps better when Max is there, Max knows. He could sleep over, maybe. Make sure Lando gets some proper breakfast too.

But something seems to break in Lando, because he’s gone back to angry, to glaring. “I don’t need your help, okay, I’m fucking fine, I don’t need you to baby me and tell me to fucking eat and to sleep and fuck. You’re not my mum.”

And okay. That’s stings. He’s just. He loves Lando, yeah? He’s just trying to take care of him.

Something must show on his face, because Lando rubs a hand over his eyes, mutters out a quiet ‘fuck’. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t. I’m just. I don’t want to be a fucking burden, or whatever. You always having to fucking drop everything for me and shit. I really am fine.”

He still really is not. “I don’t mind,” Max says.

Lando drops his hand. “But what if I fucking want you to mind? What if I fucking want you to come in here and say this is the final fucking straw, yeah? Find someone fucking else to pick up after you or whatever. Why do you always keep showing up!”

And Max is so tired. And so worried. And so fucking utterly entirely done with tiptoeing around the real reason he’s here. “Because I’m in love with you, you muppet!”

He yells it a little too loudly, and Lando blinks, clearly trying to process what’s going on. “Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so? That. That changes everything doesn’t it?”

“Right,” Max says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Does it?”

“Yeah,” Lando says. He seems to be getting some live back to him, bouncing on his feet a little. “Yeah, man, because like. I love you too. Am in love with you I mean, so like. That’s cool.”

Max looks at him. Wonders if he’s hallucinating. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Lando says, bouncing closer, proper excited now. “Really.”

“Neat,” Max says, unable to fight the grin that’s coming over his own face. Finding he doesn’t want to fight it at all. “We gotta do some dishes first, though. And maybe a load of laundry. Take that hoodie off, yeah?”

Lando wiggles his eyebrows at him. “Already trying to get me out of my clothes, huh? Not even going to proper wine and dine me first like a gentleman?”

Max snorts. “Laundry first. And then maybe I’ll get you some take out. Spring rolls. You know, like a gentleman.”

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 44

Chapter 44 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie doesn’t believe in signs, he is just working on saving people hit by the tsunami. However, a natural disaster forcing you back towards your family is as close to a sign as you can get.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: injury, minor character death mention

~~~

Chapter 44: Looking for a Sign

A tsunami. Eddie honestly isn’t sure why he didn’t expect that when he came into work today with the craziness that is LA, but then again, no one expects a natural disaster a year after the last one. If he has to guess, the only person that expected this is his mom, who expects LA to be the most dangerous place on earth every day of the week.

Eddie is so glad they managed to mollify her with a promise of a few weeks stay in El Paso by Chris over the break, because he doesn’t think he would have survived this last period if she’d been berating him every second.

He’s only just finding his footing again, becoming more confident. He’s not out, far from it, but he’s gotten comfortable thinking of himself as gay.

Work has helped – as has Bosko of course, but work is different – because it’s the same. Neither he nor Buck mentioned their troubles at home, well, Eddie’s troubles, so the others don’t ask questions or send him worried looks. They just treat him like Eddie, like he’s still the same. He needs that.

Right now, though, work is not like usual. A natural disaster is always an all hands on deck situation and this is no different.

It’s unreal to look over the carnage and Eddie is starting to be real glad they live on the other side of town. Chris was a little bummed out in the car on Friday when he brought him home, because they were going to stay in this weekend. Then Eddie felt slightly bad, almost traded his shift to be free today too, but now he’s only relieved that the two of them are far away from here.

They’re in the boats and all they’re passing are dead bodies to tag, which is always unpleasant work. However, the living ones they’re going to encounter are bound to be worse. Disasters like these always leave gruesome wounds.

Indeed, the first call they answer is pretty bad with soon to be official step-father and son stuck together by a pole through the both of them. They get the son out, but the husband to be is a harder call.

Tensions are high as Bobby dives into the water while the rest of them work to keep Chuck alive as a second surge hits the boat and water starts to come in. Underwater CPR is not an experience Eddie would like to relive.

However, they get him alive into transport, which is more than Eddie thought they’d get when they first came upon the scene. Hen and Chim go with him, so it’s out of his hands, because he follows Bobby to the pier to serve as back up.

The back up in question, is necessary at a Ferris wheel with a bunch of people stuck on it without enough transport and hands to get them away, before it comes down.

“Hey, we could use a hand up here,” a very familiar voice suddenly calls down.

Eddie’s head snaps up and he exclaims: “Bosko?”

Indeed, it is Bosko, who looks surprised for a second. She’s completely soaked and not in natural disaster gear, but she grins down at Eddie. “Diaz, hey! You’re late.”

“Oh fuck off,” he calls back, scanning for injuries. She looks okay and she’s not completely devastated or whatever. However, she is definitely putting on a professional front and Eddie can’t spot any more firefighter blue anywhere.

“You know her?” Bobby asks.

“Yeah, that’s Bosko. She works at the 136, she was my partner while I was there,” Eddie says, already getting ready to climb out of the boat and onto the Ferris wheel. “We work well together, should I go help her?” he asks, though he’s not really asking for permission.

“Alright,” Bobby gives it anyway, “grab an extra harness, rope, pulleys, figure eight plates. I’ll coordinate evac and transport some down here.”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap,” Eddie grins, before doing what he was already going to do and climbing up to where Bosko is.

When he gets there, the man in the cart with Bosko seems to be okay, albeit terrified out of his mind, and the Ferris wheel is shaking. Trying to lighten the air a little, he comments: “That’s not part of the ride,” asking for more information at the same time.

“No, the spokes are coming off the hub. This thing’s been trashed,” Bosko says, focusing on the patient and not looking at Eddie. Her face is scratched up.

“What about you?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she answers curtly, before nodding at the man. “And neither is he.”

“I’m not going anywhere, not until the water is gone,” the man insists.

“Sir, if you don’t come with us, this whole thing will be gone,” Bosko says rather harshly.

Eddie has never seen her mad like that and the weird reality that he’s going to have to be the calm one between them settles in. He also turns to the man and says: “Don’t worry, buddy. I’m gonna get you down safely. I’m just gonna put this harness around you, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” the man nods, still terrified.

“Alright,” Eddie nods, going to help the man while questioning Bosko. “You guys were on the pier when it hit? Where is everyone?”

“Robin’s out sick today and Daisy was man behind. The others… we got separated to all spin cycle. I haven’t seen any of them. Station’s probably hit too,” she replies, mouth pursed as if angry, though Eddie can see it’s just her brave face.

“We’ll run into them at some point,” Eddie assures her. “Cap will let you join our rescue team, we can search for them while we help others.”

The line on her face turns into a small smile and she thanks him, before the two of them lower the terrified man down. With him safely down, they turn to the next cart. Bosko now manages to joke more, saying: “You didn’t want to go climbing with me tomorrow, let’s see how you do now, huh.”

“I didn’t turn you down because I can’t climb. I was half thinking to surprise Chris then, since he was kind of down yesterday, but that clearly isn’t going to happen,” he says, nodding at the carnage around them. “Besides, you’re friends with way too many of your exes, it’s weird.”

“It’s lesbian culture,” she corrects.

“Still weird,” Eddie complains, before showing her that he can climb just fine.

Their next patient is more what you expect when you hear natural disaster. The man’s a possible spinal and if they don’t get a hail Mary, he has a small chance or recovery, if not survival. It isn’t looking great for Max.

However, just because it’s not looking great, doesn’t mean they’re going to give up on him. So, they all work together to get a headboard and neck brace up there, so they can stabilize his neck, while they keep the two occupants distracted by asking what they’d been doing at the pier. Your divorce papers getting interrupted by a tsunami is certainly a story to tell.

It seems the guy was looking for a sign, a sign to try and save their marriage. Buck believes in signs like this. Eddie wonders if he’d see being on this call as a sign, then wonders if he should see it as a sign too.

He shakes off the thought, he doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t believe in signs and he’s not going to start now. It can work out between him and Buck, they can still be friends, maybe even stay married. This doesn’t need to be the end, Eddie just has to figure out how to make it right between them. With slight amusement he makes a mental note not to take Buck to the pier when he finally figures it out.

Still, despite not believing in signs, he is relieved when the chopper comes and Max moves his fingers.

It’s just because he’s glad the guy has a better chance to live, he tells himself, trying to ignore the bit of devastation he feels in his chest when Max signs the divorce papers anyway. He called them a beautiful disaster.

Eddie can’t help but apply it to himself. His years with Buck have been the best of his life by far, but, as they said when explaining why they didn’t divorce, things just kept happening. Maybe they are a disaster too?

He likes to think he’s wrong about that, but the thought haunts him as they watch the chopper take Max away.

They lower the woman down, then he and Bosko start to get ready for their climb down. Before they start, they hear Bobby call out: “Incoming! Debris!”

Both their heads snap out towards the water, indeed seeing a slew of debris coming their way, carried by the receding tide. Eddie looks at Bosko and quirks a brow: “Okay, so maybe you climb better, but how’s your diving?”

“What? You suddenly an artistic diver?” Bosko retorts with amusement, as she also stops getting ready to climb down.

“Nah,” he laughs, before jumping.

Bosko is right behind him, the two of them getting pulled onto the ship by Bobby before the debris hits. Behind them, the Ferris wheel that they were just on collapses and Eddie tries to take that as a sign that whatever happened on there doesn’t matter.

When they get back, the receded water means that they can now wade through the water on foot, which is good news, since the trucks are still stuck on the other side of town, unable to get through to them, and boats are in short supply.

“Hen and Chimney are readying some turnout backpacks until we’re mobile again,” Bobby explains to the both of them, seamlessly incorporating Bosko into their team like Eddie predicted. Then he stops and turns to her. “Bosko, your crew from your house are all alive and accounted for, except for Captain Cooper. He’s still MIA. I’m sorry.”

Eddie knows how much Ronnie means to her and he can see it in her eyes that the relief immediately gets overshadowed by grief. MIA in a situation like this is never good. Still, Bosko tries to swallow down the pain, masking with professionalism. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, Captain, I’m gonna stick around and look for him.”

However, Bobby is annoyingly perceptive sometimes, so he doesn’t agree to that immediately, instead asking: “Why are you holding yourself like that?”

“It’s nothing, bruised rib,” Bosko says, playing it off, but Eddie knows her better than that. He’s seen her get punched in the face and react the exact same way.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, stepping closer.

“I said it’s nothing,” Bosko insists with a foul look send his way.

He sticks his chin out challengingly. She called him out on his bullshit, he’s allowed, if not required, to return the favor. “Then there’s no harm in letting me take a look at it. The sooner you let me, the sooner you can go look for Ronnie. Unless it’s more than a bruised rib?”

“You’re an asshole,” she hisses.

“So, I’m right and it is more than a bruised rib.”

“I liked you better when your head was still so stuck in your own ass that didn’t even know you were a dick, you know that, Diaz?”

“Hey, no need to get aggressive,” Bobby steps between the perceived start of their fight.

“It’s alright, Cap,” Eddie assures him, as Bobby sends him a weird look. It’s not necessarily the kind of friendship the 118 has with each other and he knows it. He just sends a smile back, before turning to Bosko and says: “I had to be honest with you, now it’s your turn.”

She looks away for a second with her jaw squared stubbornly. For a moment, Eddie thinks she isn’t going to answer, then she grits out: “Fine, it’s broken. But I’m fine. I can go on.”

“You sure?” Eddie pulls a disbelieving face. “Must be hurting like a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, breathing isn't super fun,” Bosko says annoyed. “But I’m fine. You know I can take a punch.” “Well, it’s not up to him,” Bobby interrupts them again. “It’s up to me and I’m calling it. You’re out the field. USAR Command is setting up the VA hospital on Sawtelle.” He turns to Eddie. “I want you to stick with her just in case her desire to track down her Captain causes her to lose her way. I’m going to-”

“This is bullshit,” Bosko cuts him off. “You’re not my Captain. My Captain is out there somewhere and I’m not abandoning him to this disaster.”

Eddie winces at that. He knows Bobby isn’t too strict when it comes to decorum, but if she goes on like that, he’s going to have to discipline her. He’s been through that once, would not recommend it in the slightest.

However, before he can say something to soften her words for Bobby, they hear screaming coming from down the street. It’s people calling out for help.

Their little crew is the only ones in the vicinity, so Bobby lets out the big breath he’d just taken and holds up a finger to Bosko. “You’re coming with us on this, only because I don’t trust you enough to let you go by yourself and I might need Eddie’s extra set of hands. You’re going to stand there, help with the light stuff maybe, then you’re going directly to the VA hospital. Am I clear?”

He is most definitely not clear and Bosko would totally argue if there weren’t people screaming for help, but for now she just grits: “Crystal, sir.”

“Good,” Bobby nods after one intense look in her eyes, then he turns on his heel and marches to the people calling out, Bosko and Eddie right behind him.

While they walk behind him, Eddie hisses: “What the hell was that? Do you want to get suspended for insubordination?”

“Of course not, but he can’t stop me,” Bosko frowns back. “You know Ronnie is my friend, you wouldn’t let your friends be alone out here, would you?”

Eddie makes a complicated face, because he knows she’s right, but he also knows Bobby is right. It isn’t that easy. “You’re hurt,” he ends up saying. “Ronnie wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself to look for him.”

“Good thing he’s not here to say that then, so I guess we won’t know for sure, and I say he’d want me to look for him,” Bosko retorts. “What if it were Buck out there?”

“That’s a low blow,” Eddie says, not able to deny it, but still not liking it, sending a glance over to Bobby to make sure he hasn’t heard.

“But it’s true,” Bosko says. “Where is he today? He okay?”

“He’s home with Chris. Lazy day in probably and far away from all this,” Eddie says.

“Did you call them to tell them you’re okay?” Bosko asks and that’s a good point. He hasn’t spoken to Buck yet, not really, but a natural disaster is a good reason to break the habit. It could even be a first step towards coming home. Maybe this is his sign.

“I’ll call when I’m bringing you to the VA hospital.”

“Yeah, like I’m going to let you take me there,” Bosko mutters darkly.

Before Eddie can reply to that, they’ve made their way to a group of people. They’re all standing next to a fire engine or helping people down from it. Upon closer inspection, Eddie realizes it’s the fire engine of the 136. These people must have sheltered on it while the water raged around them.

Once they’re close enough, Bobby calls out: “LAFD, we’re here to help. What’s the problem? Is anyone hurt or stuck?”

“Plenty of people are hurt, but no one serious,” a woman says. “We need you to help us find this man. He saved us all. Pulled us up onto this truck when we drifted by, but he got swept away. He could be hurt.”

“Eddie here can check all of you over,” Bobby tells her gently. “What’s your name?”

“Marissa,” she answers.

“Well, Marissa, we can’t make any promises about finding your rescuer, but if you give us a description, we’ll make sure to keep an eye out for him,” Bobby says

“He’s tall, very tall, and white,” Marissa says. “Some of the debris must have hit him in the face, because he has a bruise on his eye. He’s blond.”

“No, you’re saying it all wrong,” another woman says. “He’s a redhead.”

“No, he’s not,” Marissa insists. “He pulled me out early, I had a good look at him.”

“Well, then you’re blind,” a man is now interjecting himself into the conversation as well. “He is definitely Hispanic.”

Marissa pulls a face. “He’s so not Hispanic.”

“Yes, he is,” the man insists.

The other woman is now picking his side as well, saying: “Yeah, you don’t have to be dark skinned to be Hispanic. You should check your stereotypes.” She turns to Bobby and says: “He’s Hispanic, his kid called him papi. He’s a tall, light skinned, redhead.”

“His hair is more a dirty blond, brownish color,” someone else says.

“No, his hair clashed with his shirt, which was red, so he’s a redhead,” the other woman says as if it is fact.

The three firefighters watch them squabbling about the rescuer’s appearance for a few seconds with confused blinks. It’s truly fascinating how normal people can act even in the face of horrifying events. They see it every day, people who are stabbed and bleeding out, but talking about the weather or complaining that the neck brace is itchy while they might be paralyzed.

Bobby, however, doesn’t have time for it, silencing the crowd as he raises his voice: “Can anyone here give us one description? Or a name? You mentioned a kid, do you still have the kid?”

“I don’t know,” the woman who first mentioned the kid says. “He fell off the truck. It’s why he dove off it again. Didn’t hesitate for a second. It was when the tide receded.” She calls out. “Did anyone see his kid?”

“Yeah, we got him here,” a voice from the back of the crowd calls back. “He managed to grab onto a windowsill a street down.”

“Bring him here,” Bobby calls back.

Eddie is focusing on wrapping the man’s hand, since he still has a job to do. They can’t look for every person, but it’s good to have descriptions of people who are out here so they can get an overview of the total victim count. Maybe give some family out there some closure.

However, he looks up when he hears a sharp intake from Bobby. That’s never a good sound and it seems even worse when he sees Bobby. He’s become white and looks sickened at what is coming towards them through the parting crowd.

He looks to what Bobby might be seeing that is horrifying him this much. It’s a short woman carrying a kid, looking to be between seven or nine. Probably eight. The kid is wearing a yellow striped shirt and brown pants, on his head is a mop full of curls and a strap to hold his glasses in place…

Horror overtakes him too as the kid starts to look more and more familiar. Thoughtlessly he abandons the man’s wound as he gets up from his squat, ignoring the “Hey!” the man lets out.

He feels like he can’t breathe as the woman softly says: “He’s looking for his papi,” before she turns the kid towards them, indeed revealing a face Eddie would usually love to see, but not in these circumstances. Never in these circumstances.

“Christopher?”

Indeed it’s Chris, who blinks more water out of his eyes, before his eyes focus on Eddie. The moment he recognizes him, his face crumbles and he cries out: “Daddy!”

People all but jump out of his way as he rushes towards the woman, realization dawning on their faces of what that must mean for the relationship between him and their rescuer. Eddie’s mind isn’t even there yet, too focused on Chris.

Eddie snatches Chris out of the woman’s arms, hugging him close to his chest as he chokes: “Oh my god, Chris.”

“Daddy,” Chris cries, clutching Eddie as tightly as he can, sobbing into his shoulder much like he’d done in the hospital, now already about four months ago.

He runs his fingers all over Chris’s body, feeling for injuries, relieved when he doesn’t find any broken ribs or other broken bones. He forces Chris’s face away from his shoulder, cupping his cheek as he feels his skull and checks his pupils. “What were you doing out here, mijo?”

“We were going to the pier to celebrate my good grade. I was sad because you weren’t going to be here and papi wanted to cheer me up,” Chris sniffles. “Then the water was gone.”

Suddenly his brain comes back online from where it had dropped off this plane of existence in the face of worrying about Chris. About his son. The description Marissa gave them of their rescuer comes back to him…

‘He’s tall, very tall, and white. Some of the debris must have hit him in the face, because he has a bruise on his eye. He’s blond.’

Buck.

Oh god, Buck.

Eddie maneuvers Chris onto his hip with practiced ease, numb hands fumbling for his phone as he unlocks it and goes to his gallery. Without Buck there, he takes even less photos than he normally would, so his recent pictures all still have Buck in them.

He clicks one blindly and turns the screen back to the other woman – he still hasn’t heard her name and he doesn’t care much either – as he desperately asks: “Is this- Is this him? Is this the man that pulled you out?”

“Y- Yeah, yeah, that’s him,” she stammers, slightly overwhelmed by his intensity.

No.

Just no.

A minute ago, Buck was far from this and at home. He was safe. Now he’s somewhere out here in this hellhole, probably alone, maybe even injured and definitely not back to full strength yet, no matter how far he’s come with his PT.

Buck was out here to cheer Chris up, because Eddie hasn’t been home. If he’d only gone home, then they would be there now. Safe. Now, he has a scared Chris in his arms and Buck is missing. He is missing. And Eddie might never get to see him again.

It’s suddenly a lot harder to breathe and his whole world falls apart around him. He is supposed to find a way to come home. He’s supposed to come home to Buck, he can’t be out here. He can’t be injured or worse. He hoped this disaster was a sign to come home, not a sign that he’s losing it all before he can even try to fix it.

Eddie has to find him. He has to find him right now. Bosko’s hypothetical from earlier is reality and Eddie knows now better than before that she was right. He will do anything to make sure Buck is okay. That he is found.

A hand on his shoulder startles him and he spins around to the source. It’s Bobby, giving him a concerned and sympathetic look, his own heartbreak and fear mirrored on the Captain’s face.

“It’s Buck,” he finally manages. “Buck is out there.”

“And we’ll find him,” Bobby assures him. “But you’re too close to this now, Eddie. We both know that. You’re compromised. Take Bosko to the VA hospital and help out there. You can’t be out on the field anymore either.”

~~

A/N:

TSUNAMI ARC! TSUNAMI ARC! I am so fucking thrilled to be here, I’ve been wanting to write an AU of that arc for so long now, so I’m gonna go hog wild! (Also place your bets now people, is Eddie gonna listen to Bobby)

[starsfic]

Kagami, the Best Ladybug Girlfriend

Summary: When Marinette breaks her foot, her wonderful girlfriend Kagami steps in as Ladybug. This leads to Paris being interested in Marinette's love life. Notes: A request by @wombatking, inspired by my fic Marinette, Girlfriend of Ladybug.

Marinette would more than love to blame the situation on Lila.

She had been the one to brag about her expertise in gymnastics (while also coming with a convenient excuse about why there was no video or pictures at the Olympics when Alix pried), to the point that gym class had been switched to minor gymnastics. She had been the one to insist Marinette go next after Juleka and Rose had both performed perfect flips on the front beam.

Except Marinette’s clumsiness had been there before Lila.

"I’m fine," she said, her entire body shaking despite her words.

Kim held her hand with a very pale look. "You are not fine."

"I’m fine," she said, trying not to freak out.

Alya held her other hand and looked ready to throw up. "You are not fine."

"I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt."

"I don’t think your foot is meant to look like that, Marinette!" Alya’s nails dug into her skin. The sensation grounded her.

The rest of the class was gathered around with pale and horror struck faces. Even Lila and Chloe were there, looking ready to either faint or throw up. All except for Ivan and Alix, who had run the minute Kim and Alya had rushed over. The former soon returned with a big water bottle, while the latter had sprinted to get the nurse. There was no sign of the teacher anywhere.

Maybe he was worried that Damocles would fire him.

"Does it hurt?" Sabrina asked, worrying the hem of her gym shirt between her fingers.

"I can’t see her foot’s shape!" Chloe barked. "Of course it hurts."

"It doesn’t, actually," Marinette said, which was partly the reason why Alya and Kim were holding onto her. Logically, she knew she was hurt. Her foot was enough proof of that. But she didn’t feel it.

"That might be the shock," Kim admitted as Alix pushed her way through, with the nurse following close behind.

The next few minutes were a blur. An ambulance came. Marinette was wheeled out. Then she was sitting in a hospital room with her parents on either side, practically shielding her. There was a cast on her foot.

The doctor walked in, holding an X-ray. "So, I have good news and bad news," she said as she held up the X-ray, pointing to a spot on the foot. "The bad news is that your foot is definitely broken. The good news is, your foot looks worse than it actually is." Marinette felt her entire body sink with relief, alongside her parents. But she couldn’t soak up that feeling for long.

"So, it won’t take long to heal, right?" she asked. 

Her answer came when the doctor winced.

-_-

"So, I’m in a cast for a month and a half," Marinette said, hefting up said cast so her girlfriend could take a good look at it. At least the wrapping could be done in a cute pink. At least. She was struggling to find a bright spot in all of this.

"That is awful," Kagami said, raising a hand to stroke it. Despite her flat expression, sympathy filled her voice. "How do you feel?"

"Slightly better," she admitted. "Apparently, I was in a lot of shock, which blocked out a lot of the pain. But…"

Tikki rose up. "She can’t be Ladybug while she’s healing," The kwami looked glum at the admittance. She hated the idea when Marinette presented it, mostly at being separated for a month and a half. "The suit will disappear the cast, but her foot will still be broken."

"Which will put pressure and hinder her recovery," Kagami said, putting together the pieces that Marinette had in the doctor’s office. "So, what can you do?"

That was when Marinette held out her earrings.

"I need you to be Ladybug," she said when Kagami’s eyes went wide. "I trust you. Plus, we look similar enough at first glance. Chat Noir might notice, but…"

"He has a history of failing to notice important things," Kagami said, taking the earrings. She looked awestruck at even being allowed to touch them. Ever since she had learned of Marinette’s role as the guardian, she had been careful with the Miraculouses, especially the ones she was entrusted with. "If you feel that I can take your place, then I respect your opinion."

"The phrase is Tikki, spots on," Marinette said as Kagami clipped them on. "You can transform and we can see if we need to change anything." If they could pass Kagami’s suit off as a recent remodel, then that would be less stress when Marinette returned to work.

"Alright… Tikki, spots on!"

Pink consumed Kagami’s form, whirling around her. Marinette had never seen the Ladybug transformation on someone else and found herself holding her breath, leaning forward until the pink finally vanished. She felt her own smile vanish as well.

"Your suit looks better than mine," she said, definitely not in a whine.

Unlike her skin-tight onesie, Kagami wore what looked like a solid black leotard. Layered on top was the red and black, with solid-looking boots and a top piece that resembled ancient samurai armor. Her hair was arranged in a high bun with red ribbon. And, of course, the domino mask. It looked like Kagami was ready to march into battle. It looked good.

Logically, Marinette knew she should be focusing on the differences, redefining it so it would look more like something she would wear, but annoyance was blocking it out.

"Hm," Kagami said, turning to look in the mirror. "I did not notice it, but it does." She raised a brow. "Why is that? You have a greater sense of fashion than I do."

"It’s based on what the wielder thinks when they transform," Marinette said, getting up and unable to help a smile as Kagami immediately offered her arm. It allowed her to tap the armor, which felt like leather but sounded like wood under her nails. "I think it looks great, though."

Kagami’s smile lit up the room.

-_-

Thankfully, few people noticed that Marinette had switched up her regular black studs for pink flower earrings. When Alya asked, she told the truth about missing her old earrings. She could rarely wear different ones, not when an akuma attack could happen at any minute.

The next few weeks passed smoothly. She and Kagami visited each other’s house on a near-daily basis already, and Tikki had nothing but kind gushing about Kagami’s hospitality. The time off actually gave Marinette time to catch up on homework and sleep and even break into Miraculous research and fashion. Lila was even surprisingly quiet about her "injuries" in class. Marinette had to wonder if it was seeing an actual broken foot, or the suspicious glances that others were shooting her. Adrien had tried to say something about how staying quiet was clearly right, but she ignored him. So far, so good.

And then the school had gotten attacked by an akuma.

Marinette was surprised it had been so long. She was pretty sure she saw Max erasing a whiteboard that said "DAYS SINCE AKUMA ATTACK ON OUR SCHOOL."

She unfortunately couldn’t question him about it because she was running for her life.

The akuma had revealed itself to be Rachel, a girl from the other class, known for an explosive temper. Hawkmoth had turned that into Dyna-Gal, with the ability to make cartoon-style bombs that, unfortunately, had very real power. 

It was one of those times when Marinette wanted to throttle Lila. She couldn’t run with the cast on her foot and getting down the stairs was a nightmare even when things were normal. Dyna-Gal had clearly noticed her hindrance, cackling freely as she lobbed bomb after bomb around. Marinette ducked and weaved, jolting every time one went off, very glad that her hero job had taught her how to stand through an explosion. However, this time, she didn’t have a super suit.

"Lucky strike!" Dyna-Gal cackled and Marinette dared to look back. She felt herself pale as the akuma lobbed a bomb like a bowling ball, headed directly in her. She tried to speed up, but the cast and her crutches were useless in that effort. If the bomb even just knocked her off her feet-

The sound of wire buzzing was her only warning before she was yanked off her feet, barely managing to hold onto her crutches.

"I have you, miss," Kagami, Musha Aka in the earrings, said, her voice determined. She had the same voice when she was preparing to win a fencing match. Marinette resisted a swoon and instead held on as Musha Aka zipped from building to building. It wasn’t until Dyna-Gal’s cackling had disappeared that she headed to the street, landing on the sidewalk in an empty street. "Are you alright?" she asked, the sun catching in her dark curls.

Marinette suddenly understood all of Alya’s fantasies.

She couldn’t help it. She leaned up and pressed her lips to Kagami’s own. It was more of a cheek kiss than an actual kiss, but it was still a kiss that made her entire body warm. When she pulled back, Kagami’s eyes sparkled. "For good luck," she said as she pulled away.

Neither noticed the snap of a camera.

-_-

The next morning, Marinette woke up early.

She found herself dazed and confused, looking around. The sky was still dark and her clock said it was only seven. That was way earlier than she usually woke up. When she turned her head, Wayzz was hovering in front of her, holding her phone. "Miss Marinette," he said, the title they compromised on thick with worry. "There is something you should see." 

"What is it, Wayzz?" Marinette asked as she took her phone. When she looked down, she realized two things. One, Wayzz had pulled up the Ladyblog. Second, her social media notifications were exploding.

Marinette took one look at the webpage and felt herself go pale.

The main picture was of her and Musha Aka. The picture was slightly blurry, suggesting that it had been taken far away, but it was close enough to catch their kiss. Over it was a bold title: THE REAL REASON FOR NO LADYNOIR.

"...well, shit."

-_-

The few hours between her waking up and getting to school both felt too fast and too slow. Marinette didn't answer any calls or texts and was too terrified to even look at her social media notifications.

When it was time for her to leave for school, she was torn between a drag and a run, not helped by her crutches. Thankfully, no reporters had popped up yet, but she was willing to bet that they would be coming soon.

Once she was there, she found herself pausing. Many of the people she saw were wearing Ladybug’s spots or LGBTQIA+ merch, from full outfits to hair clips. Several stopped to smile and give her friendly waves, while others looked starstruck. This was a bigger reaction than she was expecting.

She was, however, expecting Alya, marching up with Nino close behind, both wearing the colors of the pan and bi flags. Alya looked torn between absolute delight and anger, and Marinette found herself tense.

"Can you explain this?" Alya demanded, pulling up the photo. Once again, Marinette resisted the urge to scream at the sight of that private moment. "I thought you and Kagami were a thing? Is this why the Ladybug suit suddenly looks better?"

Shit. She should have thought of an excuse.

"We’re poly… Alya."

Alya blinked. Marinette tried to resist the urge to scream as she stared at her.

"...and you didn’t invite me to be part of your polycule?"

…what.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, I would ditch Nino for you and Ladybug."

Marinette glanced at Nino. He blinked and then shrugged. "Eh, I can’t blame her," he said. "You and Ladybug have been on our passes ever since we started dating."

Marinette was torn between laughing and screaming, instead settling on a "Good to know?" Like usual ever since she had broken her foot, Alya took her bag, and the trio started walking to the classroom. "So, um, what’s up with all the pride stuff? If I had known, I would have put on some stuff."

"Well, the Internet has been blowing up ever since I got sent the picture," Alya admitted. "People have been debating on whether or not this makes sense. A lot of people agree on it, but there's been shippers that have been pretty upset."

"Like you?" She couldn’t help it. "I mean, you’ve been pretty hard about the Ladynoir ship forever."

Alya sighed as they walked in. Chloe was sitting in her usual seat, rocking back and forth with mascara-stained cheeks. Lila sat in the back, looking very pale. Adrien looked normal, although an anger she had never seen aimed at her flashed in his eyes. "I mean, I was. For a bit. It just…made sense, in my head. But then I started thinking about it."

Marinette raised a brow. "Really?"

"Yeah. I realized I was acting like a tabloid reporter," Alya sounded pained at the very idea. "It wasn’t any of my business. Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t dolls to be shoved together. I’m thinking of maybe revamping the blog, especially since a certain someone," Lila scooted down in her seat as Alya turned to aim a nasty glare at her. "Made me think I could trust her."

…actually, you know what? Breaking her foot had been the best thing ever.

-_-

Marinette finally started looking at her social media after dinner, with her dad pressing her about possibly bringing Ladybug and Kagami over. Her mom thankfully stopped that by pointing out that Ladybug cared more about security than Chat Noir. It was a good excuse.

Most of it was actually rather kind. Many people were excited at the idea that Paris’s heroine was like them. Fanart with her and the pride flag was everywhere. A few podcasters and YouTubers had sent her emails, wanting to talk to Ladybug or at least Marinette, hoping to learn about queer heroes. A few were nasty- the texts Chloe had sent her were ruder than anything she had ever said before- but that didn’t diminish the warmth in her chest at the love and kindness.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Then it was gone.

Marinette felt her heart jump when she realized that the burner phone that Chat Noir had bought them was buzzing. She had taken the gift reluctantly. Chat had claimed it was to avoid the disaster that had been the field trip to New York, but given his other actions, she had doubted it. Thankfully, so far, he had kept interactions limited to brief texts.

She picked it up and answered the call. "Hello?"

"When were you planning on telling me that you had a girlfriend?" His voice sounded weirdly shaky. The unease that had consumed Marinette eased off, replaced by a burn of pity. Thanks to his persistence in admitting his romantic affections, she would barely categorize Chat in the friend category, but she didn’t want him to hurt.

"...Never," she admitted. "You already know too many details about my life."

There was silence on the other end. She nearly hung up before there was a soft "...can I at least ask how long?"

Marinette breathed out air through her nose. "I’m sorry, no," she said finally. "Because I know you’ll torture yourself with that information."

There was a longer moment of silence. "...I see," he finally said. She could imagine him sitting on the roof, running his fingers through his hair. "...does she know who you are?"

"No," she said. "We’ve agreed on waiting until Hawkmoth is gone. I…I’m not a good girlfriend to her, Chat." Old guilt rose up in her chest. It was old because Kagami knew who she was, but she could never forgive herself for the first few months of their relationship. "I…I miss dates. I can’t brag about her to my family. I can barely share any details about my life. I know so much about her, but she barely knows anything about me, and it sucks."

Chat sighed. "I…Hm." There was a sigh. "Okay. Okay. I’ll see you next fight."

He hung up and Marinette collapsed against the chair with a sigh.

"I forgave you for that, you know." She nearly fell out of her chair at Kagami’s voice, turning to see her girlfriend, still clad in the Ladybug suit, rise up from her chaise. Her eyes were soft as she cupped her face, making sure Marinette understood her words. It sounded like a speech she had rehearsed. "Every time you had to go, I could see it in your face that you didn’t want to leave."

"And I still leave you behind," Marinette groaned, leaning into Kagami’s hands. "Remind me to beat up Hawkmoth for crashing our dates when we finally catch him."

Kagami leaned forward, pressing her lips to Marinette’s head.

"Assume I am already there."

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

"x" marks the end ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

a fic from the perspective of se mi backtrack: "time to say goodbye", sarah brightman + andrea bocelli inspiration: this is an assignment for my writing class lol

she knew it was stupid, but she bet on kindness.

well, it wasn't really stupid. looking back on it, it was more like bad luck. trust in the wrong place.

she joined for the money. she had won a bit playing games against the recruiter, and when he offered her a chance to play more games for a chance to win $315 million, she couldn't refuse.

when she woke up in the warehouse-like dormitory, the first thing she thought was she'd been kidnapped. the van that brought her here had picked her up at night, and when she got in, there had been this weird fog that filled the car. she didn't remember anything after that.

there were hundreds of other people in the dormitory with her. bunk beds were stacked twenty feet into the air, one for each person, and each player was wearing the same green tracksuit and white tee. she noticed the white number printed on the upper left of her own jacket: 380. there were 456 people in total. to win that money, she would have to beat 455 people. she kept to herself, silently observing everyone and trying to assess who would be her biggest threat. if she could remain calm, she'd have a good chance at the money.

she quickly realized this may not be true.

she passed the first game, red light green light, easily. those who lost were killed, shot down right in front of her. she managed to stay still, but the stench of blood was heavy in the air. gunshots and screams perforated her mind. after she crossed the line safely, she realized she was trembling. there was someone else's blood on her tracksuit. to lose here meant death. that changed everything.

when the survivors were asked to vote whether they wanted to continue or stop the games, she almost pressed the x, to stop. there was a small voice in her head that told her staying would be a death sentence. but there was another voice that told her she could win. she was afraid of death, but not of these games. she had nothing to lose; her life was worse outside. she watched herself press the o, to continue. she received a blue o and stuck it to her tracksuit.

the second game required the players to play in a team of five. she didn't like this. she already was wary of the others, and now that they knew this was a death game, who was left for her to trust? she meandered through the crowd of people, looking for someone she could deem trustworthy.

she found that someone in a young man cowering by himself off to the side. he was shorter than her, and when she tapped him on the shoulder, he jumped. as he turned around, she took note of the number on his tracksuit: 125. a red x was pinned under his number. "what's your name?" she asked.

he spoke with a stutter, and avoided eye contact: "m-minsu."

minsu. she made sure to remember. "what brought you here?" she asked, referring to the games.

he was about to answer, but then another voice cut into the conversation: "hey. señorita."

she registered that "señorita" meant her after a few seconds, and slowly turned around. the one who spoke was player 230, a young man with spiky purple hair. by his side were two others: 124 and 256, both young men around her age. all three worse blue os.

this was not great. 124 was visibly annoyed that 230, who was clearly the leader of their group, wanted a girl and a dork (his words) to join their team. but 230 was adamant, and she was pretty sure this was the best luck she was going to have. they were athletic, she was smart. she'd be safe with them, at least for now. then she watched 230 open his cross necklace and take out a colorful pill. he popped it into his mouth and handed one to 124.

she started to rethink just how much faith she should place in 230.

but she had made the right decision to join him; they passed the second game. as they were herded back toward the dormitory, minsu caught up t her. "why did you talk to me?"

she tilted her head. minsu was not brave, smart, or athletic. he was truly, in 124's words, a dork. but she chose him anyway, and the reason was simple. "because I thought I could trust you." he was shy and timid; she was calm and realistic. in her, he found someone to stand behind, and in him, she found a friend. during the next round, he voted to stay, swapping out his x for an o. it was perfect.

perfection, she thought now, has a way of crumbling. for a few hours, maybe a day, everything was fine. then the cracks started to appear and spiderweb across the fragile glass of perfection.

the third game was called mingle. the players were herded into a large room, where they stood on a large platform that spun slowly while happy music played. when a voice came over the speakers to say a number, they would have to form a group with that number of people and run to one of the smaller rooms that were located around the big central room. she stuck with minsu, 230, 124, and 256. they passed the first round smoothly. the second round asked for four people. 230, who was high on one of his pills, kicked 256 to the ground before taking 124 and running toward a room. she pulled minsu, who had frozen in shock, toward the room as well, and they watched from inside as 256 was shot down.

the third round came. 230, who was initially devastated at his good friend 256's death, even though he had been the one to kick him out of the group in the first place, was still high. he and 124 linked arms and danced around, before the voice came over the speakers again. "three."

groups of three. 230, 124, 125, 380. that made four numbers. four people.

"rock paper scissors!" 230 demanded of her and minsu. "winner comes with us!"

"come with me," she said to minsu, holding out her hand. we'll find someone else. we don't need to stay with these jerks. her faith in 230 had run out. she was no longer safe with him. minsu stared at her, looking like a kicked puppy. his lip quivered.

"now!" 230 barked. "rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

she glared at him, but he didn't notice. then she looked back at minsu.

he was holding out two fingers. scissors. she looked at her own hand, which was still outstretched so he could take it. paper.

her stomach dropped. she suddenly understood what people meant when they said they felt like they had been punched in the stomach.

"minsu with the scissors!" 124 chortled, and they pulled him away, laughing and cheering.

her chest felt thin as she struggled to breathe. time was running out--she hoped 124 would die soon--and she wasn't going to find a group, she was going to get locked out of the rooms--she really hoped 124 would die soon--and get shot down, she was going to die here and--

someone grabbed her. instinctively she took off, running for her life toward one of the few empty rooms left. when it was over, she exited the room slowly, feeling numb. she gave a small nod to the two players who had taken her with them and saved all of their lives. then she felt eyes on her. she looked to her side and locked eyes with minsu. his mouth opened, as if to call her name. she turned away.

round three of voting. the remaining players--there were less than a hundred of them now--were separated into xs and os. when it was her turn she pressed the x, swapped out her o, and quietly walked over to the x side. she kept quiet, but was alerted to attention when she heard 124's voice from the o side: "minsu, you know how to vote. we're going to play one more game, yeah?" he clapped minsu's shoulders, pushing him forward so the latter was closer to her. then he looked over minsu's head to lock eyes with her smugly. she flipped him off.

minsu nervously stumbled up to the voting podium. 230 and 124 cheered for him: "team o, let's go!" minsu turned around and looked at her, an emotion she couldn't place heavy on his face. was that pleading? guilt? he pressed the x too, switching sides again.

tensions were rising. she heard that there would probably be a fight tonight. people would kill, others would be killed. dinner that night came with a fork. she turned it over in her hand. anything could be a deadly weapon if you tried hard enough.

later that night, something big happened. she learned through whispers and rumors: player 230 got into a scuffle with another player; he took a fork to the throat and bled out on the men's bathroom floor. after the lights went out, people attacked. she gripped her fork tightly, huddling on her bed and pressing herself to the wall. maybe if she stayed quiet, nobody would notice her.

someone was next to her. they cursed at her, and then she was dragged from her bed. she screamed, but nobody was coming to save her; everyone was screaming. the lights flickered, and she caught a glimpse of the player's number: 124.

she didn't stand a chance against 124. he was strong, strong enough to overpower her, and she was backed against the wall. he disarmed her easily, got on top of her and pinned her to the ground. the silver fork in his hands glinted in the air before he stabbed it deep into her neck.

she understood now. she was just a little tragedy. if she voted x from the start, if she never got involved with 230, if she didn't trust minsu, she could have lived. she could have lived.

a glass bottle crashed next to them, clipping 124 on the way down. he cursed, looking up to see where it had come from. someone was lying on a bunk above them, leaning over the edge. she squinted. had someone come to rescue her? did someone care about her?

the person disappeared and did not come down to defend her. she already knew who it was, but her eyes desperately found the white number on the tracksuit anyway.

125.

okay so I haven't actually watched the show in full so some plot points will differ lol. and if this wasn't clear by now, this isn't a x reader fic, it's a fic from se mi's perspective to flesh out her character. ALSO I got the sick perfection quote from an author here, but I forget who ;-; I'm so sorry

divider by @strangergraphics

taglist: @raysmayhem-72, @toooster, @sheisntyou, @soft-likethesunset

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter Twenty-Nine

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

A blueberry jasmine tea this morning.

I have a loaded day with friends and food and I am so stoked. I wanted to wake up early just so I could post a chapter before events.

I was going to read last night, but my partner got me hooked on this korean zombie/pharma/infectious disease drama called happiness, I am on episode three and am absolutely loving it! If you are into that genre- 10/10 recommend.

let's get into chapter 29!!!

Starting off strong with Xie Lian having yet another worldview shift/questioned. (re: the role of the gods in mortal's lives and what they can actually even do). p25

That's super weird that none of them have received any prayers about Yong'an. Here I am about to clown myself with my hypothesizing; 1. who are they praying to? 2. is there a way for a heavenly official to interfere with prayers? p27

I'm truly starting to believe that this man intentionally brews his own bad luck (re: his statue being toppled, by himself). p29

Fucking hell. My heart. This guy's dead son. oof. This refugee story hurts. It physically pained me to read it, because this is too real. pp30-31

omg. and it got worse with Yong'an. (questions all answered). The rich essentially have a monopoly on the support of the Gods. This is so vile. What the fuck. p33

This chapter was so short but hurt

I think I am going to hate book three. not even because of the content but because of the emotions. This chapter already hit my eyes, oof. I suspect this will only get worse as more corruption and suffering is witnessed.