#but i need to just start asking before i pick things up

[captain-huggy-bear]

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

[kashverse]

gojo’s sweet tooth is a menace. you learned that early on when he asked for “a bit” of sugar in his coffee and ended up turning it into something closer to a dessert syrup. so, of course, when you bake a pear and berry pie—already sweet enough, mind you—he sneaks in extra sweetener when he thinks you aren’t looking. he’s not very subtle about it. the first time, you almost missed it, but then you saw his telltale smug grin, a bit too pleased with himself as he “innocently” leaned against the counter.

"toru," you deadpan, arms crossed.

"what? i’m just appreciating your hard work," he says, licking a stray bit of filling off his finger like he's in a commercial.

"you’re ruining my pie."

"nah, i’m improving your pie," he corrects, already reaching for another spoonful.

nanami, on the other hand, is far less chaotic. he keeps things simple—apple pie, nothing fancy. no extra fillings, no surprise ingredients, just a good ol’ classic that never lets him down. it’s his go-to for the weekends, whether he makes it himself (precisely measured, no shortcuts) or picks one up from the bakery he trusts more than some of his coworkers. sometimes, you’ll walk into the kitchen and find him in the middle of rolling out dough with the same focus he has when reading financial reports. if you joke about him being a househusband, he’ll sigh, wipe his hands on a towel, and say, "do you want pie or not?"

toji doesn’t bake. he doesn’t have time, patience, or, honestly, the self-control to wait for something to cool down before eating it. but after a long day, when you casually hand him a slice of pumpkin pie, he takes it without a word. he’s not big on admitting things, so he just eats it, nodding once in approval, like that’s the most gratitude you’re going to get. but the real giveaway is how he never turns it down. ever. even if he’s pretending like he doesn’t care.

geto loves pecan pie. no debate. no discussion. no hesitation. the man would probably start a war over it if necessary. you once offered him a slice of something else, and he gave you such a disappointed look that you almost felt guilty.

"you’re really this attached to pecan pie?" you asked, watching as he took slow, deliberate bites like he was savoring each one.

"it’s a masterpiece," he said, as if that explained everything.

choso is all about cherry pie, mostly because he likes the tint it leaves behind. after eating it, he’ll glance in the mirror and smile a little at the way his lips look stained, like a kid who got into something he shouldn’t have. sometimes, he’ll grin at you with his mouth still full just to make you roll your eyes.

"cho, you look like you just drank blood."

"cool, right?"

and then there’s sukuna. you have to physically stop him from turning a normal, innocent chicken pie into something… horrific.

"you can’t put human meat in it."

"why not?"

"it’s a chicken pie."

"so?"

you glare at him. he stares back, unbothered.

"suku, if i turn around and find out you’ve replaced the filling, i swear to god—"

he smirks. "you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"i would. you know why? because i would throw up."

he just laughs, because, really, who needs horror movies when you live with him?

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, soap x reader, unsolicited nudes, pushy behaviour, implied noncon elements - 1K words, semi-edited - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Anxiously sending in an offer for a kitchen appliance you’re in dire need of via an online social media marketplace, only for the seller- JTav87, to reply instantly.

The notification comes when you’re taking a curious peep at his info. His proflile makes him seem nice enough- real 'the cool uncle’ vibes. The page's display picture is a snap of him grinning ear to ear with one of his big paw-like hands at his chest in a thumbs up gesture, the other being obscured behind the lid of an outdoor grill; a family gathering in full swing behind him.

It's all topped off with the stock photo of a beach at sunset as his header, the poorly stretched image sporting a sprawling near-unreadable quote about resilience smack-dab in the middle, gratuitous high contrast vignette filters over everything as a little banner pops up at the bottom of your screen; a message from the seller.

‘I cn do tht.’

you hastily type out a reply in fear of the purchase somehow getting delayed or cancelled.

‘You’re a lifesaver😊I've been searching high and low for one of these!’

Being too friendly was your first mistake, you just wanted to make a good impression- it seemed harmless at the time.

The pickup goes off without too much of a hitch- you meet up as requested in the well-lit parking lot of a generic chain cafe, puffing out cold breaths from behind your jacket and nursing a warm beverage you had managed to grab. Stepping out of a beat up pickup, you come to find that he’s a lot bigger than his pictures would have you assume, not shockingly tall, but his overall aura and bulk make him seem like a giant. His bare arms splay outwards, stretching the fabric of his ill-fitted tee in a gesture that almost had you worried he was going to go in for a hug- thankfully, a firm handshake seems to suffice. 

“Och! Yer’ hands’re baltic!” he exclaims with a blinding smile, rosy tips of his ears and nose being the only tell he was affected by the weather himself as he claps his other hand around yours, rubbing them together to create heat. It's an action that nearly had you spilling the drink in your free hand as you stagger a bit in response to the contact- something he seemed to either not notice, or not mind.

The real kicker was the way he refused to take your money, hemming and hawing about how you should be saving that money for stuff you need- as if the appliance you were purchasing wasn’t that exactly. “A’hm not gonna take yer’ money- a’hm t’fond of ye’.”

whatever that means. 

It's good you didnt pay, evidently. When he had loaded it into your car- having the gall to laugh after you asked if he needed help, mind you- he had forgotten the cord that made the thing work, offering you a lovely little surprise when you finally got home.

On queue, there's a muffled ding from the device in your pocket. 

‘forgt 2 brng cord. srry x’ 

your eyes could have rolled out of your head; suffice to say, you weren't impressed.

‘I really needed this tonight, had baking I needed to do for a party tomorrow 🫤weather’s too bad for me to go out again tonight.’

‘cn drop off at urs if u wnt?’

Had you been in any other situation, this would have been a hard no- sadly however, your stress and desperation leads you into letting the heavyset man worm his way in through your front door as if he owns the place, cord bunched up and hanging out of his back pocket while he kicks the snow from his boots with a saintly smile.

Surprisingly, the drop off is quick- only interrupted by him asking to use your toilet as you're distracted with pulling out baking supplies. Before you know it, he’s back on the icy roads again. You almost wish you had offered him some coffee or tea-

 Almost.

When the morning sun bleeds through your curtains, you pick up your phone to find a notification from JTav87.

‘Hve a grate day x’ 

You frown and ignore the message as you start your day, but it only seems to embolden him into sending you countless more, the tone of the messages becoming increasingly more romantic as time draws on- some of your work friends at the office party even ask you if there was a new beau in your life when you had made the mistake of leaving your phone face up atop the breakroom table while you ate.

The final straw between you, your peace of mind, and the block button comes that night with a handful of alarmingly explicit voice messages in your inbox, promptly followed by a very-much so unprompted video of him shirtless and moaning while he chokes his swollen dick in a vice grip- all done over a familiar bunched up pair of underwear that you know with certainty had been at the top of the hamper in your bathroom. 

Little is left to the imagination when he snatches up the stolen garment, bringing it to his nose, face just out of frame as his chest expands in response. His audible fist-fucking and jerking hips get more frenzied as he gives one last brutal tug all the way from his base to the head, hand flexing as he aims his shot at his phone, cum coating the counter space directly in view of the camera.

His spent cock bobs and drools, stomach muscles contracting wildly as he leans back into the wall behind him; taking a moment before reaching forward to stop the video, searing the image of his hazy, wolfish grin in your mind.

His free hand gets busy sopping up his mess in your underwear as the screen flashes back to the clip's first frame, offering you the prompt to watch again.

It would later become apparent that blocking could only do so much to seperate you from a mutt like John MacTavish- especially when he's privy to your home address.

[danikamariewrites]

Hiding in Plain Sight

Cazriel x reader

Warnings: eating disorder/disordered eating, anxiety, angst, comfort at the end

If reading about Eating Disorders/Disordered Eating makes you uncomfortable please don’t read. Your health comes first.

Azriel stares at you across the table, a worried frown pulling at his lips. He watched you push your breakfast around the plate. His hazel eyes occasionally dart to Cassian, silently begging him to notice that there is something wrong with their mate.

But nothing. Cassian was busy joking with Amren and making sure Elain found it funny that he picked on the ancient being.

There wasn’t much on your plate to begin with. A small scoop of eggs, one piece of bacon, and half of a bagel. Placing your fork on the plate you nudge it away from you. No one would notice that you barely touched your food anyway.

Besides, you had a big dinner last night. There was no need for a big breakfast.

That was the problem with the River House. Every meal was big. And your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

The edge of the plate presses against your fingers gently. Looking up from your lap you see a shadow discreetly moving your plate closer to the edge of the table, urging you to eat.

You raise a brow at the shadow before it scurries back across the table to rest at Azriel’s shoulders. Your eyes dart to your mate, briefly making eye contact with him.

You start to fidget nervously feeling the scrutiny of his gaze. Swallowing hard, you stand from the table, excusing yourself to your office for the day.

You were just too anxious. A permanent knot has formed in your stomach over the last week. It feels like your throat closes up on you and you can’t breathe when you try to eat. The only thing you’re able to stomach has been water.

Having Azriel look at you like that had your heart racing in panic. You feel like a burden to your mates at times, especially when your anxiety lasts long periods of time.

Sitting at your desk you take deep breaths, pouring a glass of water. After taking a few sips you get to work, focusing on the needs of the city and keeping your side of the bond closed.

Up in the training ring Azriel’s mind is still on you. Were you not eating again? Or was it just this morning? Last time you struggled with eating it ended you came to them for help. It wasn’t like Cassian and Azriel judged you or thought less of you. They worry about you only because they love you.

Cassian nudges Azriel’s shoulder as he strolls by, leaving the Valkyries to their warm up exercises.

“What’s wrong?” He crosses his arms trying to keep a stoic facade up. Azriel knew Cassian was worried and stressed. He could feel it in his own chest. Knew there were thoughts of you running through Cass’s mind because they echoed in his own.

“I think y/n is struggling again.” Azriel says bluntly, not wanting to dance around the topic as they have before.

Cassian’s jaw muscle feathers. Hurt and anger bubbling in his chest quickly. Azriel lays a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. “Listen,” Azriel growls. “I know how this makes you feel. Angry and powerless, we can’t fight this, only she can. But we can help her.”

Azriel holds the general by his shoulders, forcing Cassian to meet his gaze. “Talk to me Cass.” He inhales sharply, eyes lined with silver as he looks up. “I just…I feel useless to her.” Azriel gently holds Cassian’s face. “You aren’t. We aren’t. I promise, she needs us.”

Deciding to skip dinner, you head straight for your rooms. Exhausted from anxiety making you physically sick.

Opening the door you’re taken aback seeing Cassian and Azriel sitting on the couch. “Oh, Hi my loves.” You put on a fake smile, trying to convince your mates to not ask questions.

Azriel gives you a sad smile, striding across the room to hold you. At his touch you crumbled.

Sobbing into Azriel’s chest he rubs your back in soothing motions. “It’s ok,” he whispers against your temple.

Cassian watches from his spot on the couch. Tears of his own silently sliding down his cheeks. Feeling your anguish through the bond had Cassian wanting to crawl out his skin.

Gods, if this is what you’ve been struggling with on a daily basis you must be stronger than him.

He quickly makes his way across the room, holding you from behind. Cassian presses a long kiss to the back of your head. Scooping you from Azriel he walks you over to bed, cradling you to his chest like you’d cease to exist if he let go.

“Tell me what to do, how do I fix this?” Cassian pleads quietly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, no longer holding your emotions back from your mates. Your shoulders shake as your sobs continue.

Taking deep breaths makes your sobs calm. Sitting up you wipe at your face. Cassian pulls you right back to his chest, needing to hold you.

“I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t make it stop. Every time I think I get better it all comes back worse.”

Cassian looks at Azriel, both males giving each other a pained look. “I’m sorry, sweet pea. I’m so sorry.” Cassian whispers. “We’re here for you. And I swear I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“We won’t let you face your problems alone, y/n.” Azriel says, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. You reach out to hold his hand.

Settling into your mates’ comforting embrace you focus on clearing your mind. “Thank you,” you say softly. Your mates respond by squeezing you between them. “We love you, y/n.”

“More than you can imagine.”

You curl into them, letting their love reach you through that precious golden string.

[orangerafe]

reader giving innocent!nerdy!rafe a blow job for the first time

cw; smut, blow job, nothing else I don’t think

School usually wasn’t a problem for you. You soared through middle school and high school with flying colours, getting A’s and B’s in every class. You thought collage would be easy, and it was at the start. But now you were on your second year, and it was getting harder each time you went to your classes. So after some hassling the teachers and begging for some guidance, they thought it would be a good idea to pair you up with Rafe Cameron

He was the schools golden boy, the one who passed every class with no problems and whose father funded the school to no end, favourited by everyone except most students. You didn’t mind him, he was a sweet boy and you found working with him fun. He explained things well, helping you understand the work better than most teachers did. Everything was going swimmingly, you two would meet up every Thursday and study for a few hours, sometimes getting dinner together

It was harmless, just casual studying after hours. That was until one night you just couldn’t help yourself. Your ovaries were on fire, making your hormones and horniness go through the roof. Poor rafe just wanted to help, and that’s how he found himself laying down on the bed, letting you take off his trunks

“Fuck, you’ve been hiding all this the whole time?” You almost moaned, taking his half hard cock out of his briefs and admiring the piece of flesh. He was big, thick and veiny. Absolutely made to satisfy your needs. He looked down, adjusting his glasses with his finger. “I-I yeah I guess so…” he mumbled, cheeks flushed a light pink. It was adorable really

You glanced up at him, a smirk playing at your lips as you poked your tongue out of your mouth, licking a strip from the base of rafes cock right up to his roaring red tip. Rafes mouth fell open, a low groan escaping his parted lips. He was now harder than ever, the feeling of his muscles spasming in your palm making you giggle. “You like it?” You asked him, watching his cheeks grow redder

Your tongue started to swirl around his tip, teasing the sensitive end. Rafes eyes rolled back, his head leaning back to the pillows as he let out moans of his own, even soft whimpers. You stared up at him, watching his every reaction as you started to throat his length, hallowing your cheeks and flattening your tongue to accommodate his largeness. He was hitting the back of your throat, and you hadn’t even taken him fully into your mouth yet

His hands moved down to thread through your hair, holding it into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck, your so good at this” he breathed out, hips bucking into your mouth unintentionally. The way he pushed his his made you moan around his dick, the vibrations making him let out a slight whimper

The sound of his whimper made your stomach whirl, butterflies shooting through your body at the sound. You moved your hand to rest around his base, rubbing the rest of what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Rafe was loving it, head lolled back and eyes shut in pleasure. He knew he wouldn’t last long, but he at least wanted to try last a little longer

Your tongue swirled along the underside of his length, the taste of his cock lingering on your tongue. “Your so good at this — I’m not gonna last” he hissed out, gently tugging on the coloured locks of your hair. You picked up the pace, wanting him to have a good orgasm, a good first experience with oral

His moans became louder, throatier as he came closer and closer to his climax. He was teetering on the edge of whimpering, sounds growing more stretched out and needy. You took him deeper into your mouth, determined to make him cum better than ever before. He whimpered, hands clutching onto your hair. “I’m — fuck I’m about to cum” he nearly whined, sounding desperate for this orgasm

It only took another bob of your head, another rub of your palm and swirl of your tongue for him to be cumming deep in your mouth, warm salty liquid spurting down into your throat. You pulled away, swallowing his load with no problems, minus the little bit that was dribbling down your chin. Rafes body was weak after cuming so hard, looking at you with dazed eyes that had you smiling

“You did good rafe, really good” you praised, rubbing his bicep as you grabbed his boxers and the tracksuit bottoms he was lazily wearing. Rafes cheeks flushed a little, still feeling a little overwhelmed. “Thanks” he replied, voice a little strained. Both of you then laid back on his bed, relaxing and enjoying each others company after something quite intimate

[starlighttsv]

Best of both worlds - Paige’s daughter

💌 Syn: Paige is on “the best of both worlds” podcast during her world tour

»»— warnings: none :)

»»— notes: 🗑️😃 but only 1 more fic before i’m done trying to edit these cringy stories 🤗

»»— word count: 1k

»»— pair: paige x daughter!oc || lilah bueckers

Todays the day of filming Flaujae's podcast "the best of both worlds" hosted in Atlanta currently because of overtime Queen of the Court. Lilah is also with Paige but the time of filming the podcast, is a few minutes after her nap time starts and she can never skip naps or she'll be a very grumpy sassy 1 year old. So she's gonna sleep in the room next door and Paige & Flaujae are gonna leave the filming room door cracked so Paige can hear if she wakes up or anything.

"Alright guys now moving on, today's special guest is.....Paige Bueckers!" Flaujae introduces "hey everyone! Thank you for having me." Paige replies

"So I have some questions for you" flaujae starts, making Paige nod and say go ahead.

"What is your favorite basketball highlight of yours?"

"Ooo wait...oh I'm gonna go with when I was shooting the ball and it bounced off the rim, and then straight down in the bucket. I love that highlight"

"I saw that one! That was so dope!"

"Alright, what's your favorite basketball picture of you?"

"The one where I'm looking at the fans screaming after a basket, and there all screaming back at me. I need to get that framed!"

"Y'all heard her, get that picture framed for her" Flau says making her and Paige laugh a little and joke around for a few. "Alright who has more rizz?" Flaujae jokes "oh cmon, I'm the greatest rizzler of all time" Paige laughs making Flau also start to laugh "Alright I'll give you that. People say I'm a flirty person until I'm talking to someone I like" "your just shy or?" Paige cuts in "no it's more of just like I don't want to push it to much." Flaujae adds "oh I get that, I get that"

"You need to give me some tips." Flaujae jokingly says "alright-" Paige starts "off camera, off camera" Flaujae cuts in making Paige agree "Alright alright, a little more serious questions" Flaujae starts "you have a daughter" she adds making Paige nod "what's your favorite thing about her?"

"Ooo uhh, I honestly don't know. Uhh her love for adventure maybe? She loves going to new places, seeing new people, seeing animals she's never seen before. She loves even going on like "road-trips" to the store or gas station." Paige answered "Shes been with you for your whole "world tour" so far, right?" Flau questions "yeah.“

"What was your favorite thing to do with her on your world tour? And what was her favorite thing to do, if you know?"

"My favorite was umm oh our LA trip, we did a lot there. We went to Disneyland, Universal, a few museums, few beach trips, an aquarium vist, plus some more. Lilah's favorite was probably-" Paige stops talking as she hears Lilah walking through the hallway and calling out for her

"Mama" Lilah says, obviously looking for Paige. P takes a quick glance at Flaujae asking if she can bring Lilah in here, making Flaujae do a quick nod giving Paige her approval. "In here baby" P calls out, hearing Lilah start walking towards the filming room.

When she enters and sees Paige, she starts waddling towards P a little faster "good morning babe, how was your nap?" Paige asks, going on deaf ears as Lilah just walks closer to Paige and puts her hands on P’s thighs, a sign that she wants picked up. So Paige leans down and picks her up putting her on her thigh and Lilah immediately cuddles closer to Paige.

"I 100% have baby fever now. She's so cute omg" Flaujae says making Paige let out a chuckle "thank you" Paige says "well she's in here now so maybe she can answer your question. Lil what was your favorite thing we did so far this summer?"

She just cuddles into Paige more "cmon Lilah, I know you have favorites" P tries to convince her "ball and Disney" Lilah mumbles "she said ball and Disney, which translates to all star and Disneyland"P chuckles while rubbing Lilahs back, either to help her go back to sleep or to wake her up. Paige doesn’t really know the answer yet and she doesn’t think Lilah knows yet either

"I was gonna ask her favorite part of all star but looking at her, I don't think she wants to answer" Flaujae softly says, seeing that Lilah is trying not to fall asleep in Paige's arms right now  "she never really wants to talk after waking up, she just wants cuddles and silence to decide if she's awake for the day or not - but she said she loved meeting all the new people and seeing people she already knew again - especially loved seeing Diana, Sue, Breanna, Megan, Angel and Caitlyn, when I asked her." Flaujae nods and says  "so we can count on her to go to UConn" "I mean maybe? But I'm not gonna force her to follow my footsteps." Paige shrugs making Flau nod again "alright I'll move the subject away from your daughter, I got carried away. That's my bad"

Paige laughs a little, "Your good. I love talking about her any chance I get." Flaujae smiles at that and says "you seem like an amazing mom"

"Thank you. I try my best for her." Flaujae nods and then looks at her cards and says "alright we're gonna play a game. I'm gonna name a few of your teammates past and present, and I want you to give me one word that describes them." Paige nods still rubbing Lilahs back, and Lilahs just playing with Paige's chain now, deciding she wasn’t tired anymore.

"Kk Arnold" "goofy"

"Azzi Fudd" "consistent"

"Nika Mühl" "I have so many words to describe her....menace"

"Aaliyah Edwards" "dog"

"And last but not least, Ice Brady" "she icy"

Lilah stayed on Paige’s lap for the rest of filming, still just playing with P’s chain - and once filming was wrapped Paige took lilah to get some food before going back to the practice facility and go over plays with “team paige”

@melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03

[vi1223]

"Have you got everything you need?"

"Yes, Alfred...."

"Good."

Bruce walked towards the front door and was about to leave when he thought of something. He looked back into the house.

"Alfred?"

Alfred turned around in confusion.

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Would you.... Would you like to go with me this time?"

Alfred was shell-shocked.

"Are you.... Are you sure, Master Bruce?"

Bruce smiled and nodded.

"Yes, it's.... it's what my father would have wanted."

Alfred smiled.

"I'll go pack my things."

----

3 years later

Bruce sat at the dining table reading his newspaper when Alfred approached him."

"I noticed you haven't packed for the annual camping trip, Master Bruce. You haven't forgotten, have u?"

Alfred said as he set Bruce’s coffee on the table. Dick stops midway through his breakfast.

"What camping trip?"

Dick asked in confusion.

"No, Alfred, I haven't forgotten. I've just been too busy. And with Dick around, I think we should just skip it this year."

Bruce answered Alfred, ignoring Dick's confused glances.

"Why Master Bruce, you haven't missed a day, I don't think you should start now?"

Dick was getting increasingly annoyed, understandable as a 6-year-old.

"Missed what? What's going on?"

Bruce sighed.

"I'm busy. Besides, I can't exactly leave Dick alone in the manor. And before you suggest staying behind, you know I'm not letting you do that."

"Actually, I was going to suggest you bring the boy along this year."

Alfred nodded towards an excited Dick Grayson.

Before Bruce could protest, Dick jumped out of his seat in excitement.

"Yeah, camping trip!"

Dick exclaimed as he began jumping up and down.

Bruce frowned.

"I don't know...."

"It would be a good bonding experience for you and young master Richard."

Bruce looked thoughtful and sighed.

"Alright."

----

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Alfred?"

"No no, I have far too many chores to do. You boys enjoy yourselves."

Dick was excited. It was his first time going on a trip with Bruce since moving into the mansion. Bruce was so busy with work, they seldom had time to hang out and it often made Dick wonder why Bruce fostered him in the first place.

"So what exactly are we doing again?"

Dick asked, as they headed out.

Bruce sighed.

"When I was little, my dad would take me to hiking in the forest just north of the manor. We would camp the night and watch the sunrise in the morning."

Dick grinned.

"Sounds cool. I've never been camping before."

Bruce smiled fondly at the boy.

"When my parents died, I invited Alfred along with me. And it kind of became a tradition for me and Alfred."

Dick nodded. Bruce had told him a little about his parents' death, but he knew it was still a touchy subject.

"My dad promised to take me camping once."

Dick piped up.

Bruce looked at him with interest.

"But Haley's circus was always moving. We never even had a chance to visit the woods."

Bruce listened with interest. He patted the boy on his head. Alfred was right, this would be good for him and the boy.

Bruce suddenly stopped abruptly. Dick frowned in confusion.

"Why did we stop?"

But Bruce did not answer. Instead, he picked a pebble from the gravel floor. Dick looked on with interest.

"Choose a nice stone. You're gonna need it later."

Dick nodded and grabbed a pebble that caught his eye.

They continued on their hike and finally found a nice clearing. 

"We're here. This is the campsite."

"Yes!"

Dick placed down his things. Bruce did the same, then took the pebble from his pocket and walked over to a corner where a pile of stones were gathered.

Dick followed him curiously.

Bruce took it a marker and handed it to him.

"Write your initials and place down the stone."

He placed down his own rock on a little pile of rocks labeled 'B.W.'

"Each time we come here, we place a rock until we make a little rock mountain. This is mine."

Then he pointed to a smaller stack beside his own labeled 'A.P.'

"This is Alfred's."

Then he gestured to the largest stack labeled 'T.W.'

"And this is my dad's."

Dick did as he was told and admired the other rock structures.

"Whoa. That's tall. Your dad must've come here often."

Bruce smiled.

"He used to come here all the time with his dad. N now I come here with you."

Dick registered the information, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Thanks, Bruce."

"Anytime, son."

----

"Come on, Cass. You should come with us this year! It'll be fun!"

Duke persuaded.

Cass shook her head, stubbornly.

It was the annual camping trip. Bruce and the boys were all packed and ready to go. It was extra exciting, as it was Duke’s first trip with the family.

Steph placed an arm around Cass.

"Yeah, you're never going to convince her to come to your little 'Boy's trip'."

Dick chuckled.

"They're right, you know. We all tried."

Babs walked in.

"Plus, with the boys out of the house. Alfred lets us throw a little girls' night."

Duke looked at them, impressed.

"How'd you make Alfred agree to that?"

Steph shrugged.

"As long as we clean up after ourselves and keep the guest list to a minimum, Alfred sometimes even joins us for mani-pedis"

Dick grinned.

"Fair enough. Come on, let's make sure Tim isn't over-packing. Again."

Duke looked concerned.

"Again?"

Jason nodded.

"Yeah, last year he tried to bring 10 packs of instant coffee. Alfred caught him just in time."

Duke laughed at that. At the corner of his eye, he noticed Damian arguing with Bruce on bringing his pets along on the trip.

----

Duke felt a little silly carrying a pebble in his pocket, but the rest just gave him mysterious grins and said he'd find out later.

Finally, they reached a clearing. Duke began unpacking his things when he noticed the others gathered in a corner.

"What are you guys... doing?"

That's when he noticed the little rock structures with each of their initials. The boys grinned as they added a new rock to their structures.

Duke was still watching in amazement when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Bruce smiling at him and handing him a marker.

"It's your turn, son."

Duke smiled and took the marker. He wrote 'D.T.' on his pebble and set it beside Damian's.

"Hey, Bruce! Your pile is almost high as your dad's!"

Jason commented, ruining the perfect moment.

-----

Note: I wrote this a while ago. It was inspired by something, I think it's a comic page. If anybody knows, please help. Thx.

[batfsm]

I wrote a fanfic for this but I now need a title…and a summary.

Warnings: I don’t say outright in the story, in my opinion, but i imply a lot of child abuse and sexual assault to children. So be careful please.

I do speak of death and drugs but only in passing.

The story is under the cut. It got away from me. I just wanted to write about Jason and Tim running from Bruce and next thing I know Dick and Alfred are in it, Leslie is mentioned as is Jim, Roy, Lian, Oliver, Damian, and Talia. (Cass and Duke are implied.)

I hope you enjoy @ky-landfill. I’m putting it up tomorrow on my AO3 so I’ll edit in the link then. (Hopefully a name and summary also. Especially a title.)

Edit: Figured both out.

Meetings

Summary: A sound had Jason dropping the tire.

A sound had Jason dropping the tire he just took off and reaching for Tim who came willingly.

Tim climbed onto Jason’s back as the older boy started to run, a move they had practiced for hours until they got it smoothly, and Jason gripped his tire iron harder as he moved faster.

A body suddenly dropping in front of him had Jason sliding to a stop and crunching a bit.

Tim peeked over Jason’s shoulder and felt his eyes widen. Other than that the only other reaction was his tightening grip on his elder brother’s shoulders.

Jason glared as he shifted a bit more to hide Tim and lifted his tire iron. “Leave us alone!”

Batman glared. “Why did you take my tires?”

“None of ya business. We aren’t anymore, so let us go.”

“You’re coming with me.” Batman I growled.

“Fuck off, you big boob!” Jason shouted before rushing Batman.

The man was so surprised that he couldn’t stop the hit to his abdomen. As Batman doubled over, Jason ran past as fast as he could.

[They wouldn’t be found for a week and it wasn’t by Batman. Robin, who came back to visit Agent A and was reluctantly patrolling with Batman, though he was internally glad to be home, ran into Tim by accident.

Tim, when faced with one of his heroes, just stared as he had at Batman before grinning and asking Robin if he wanted to come meet his big brother.

Robin, who was told about the story by a mulish Batman, grinned brightly and agreed.

The young boy led the way to their hideout only to find Jason struggling against a man. Robin didn’t even blink as he took the man down and then fussed over the two boys.

Tim clung to Jason who clung back as Robin looked around and then called Agent A who came to pick the boys up and take them to dinner and then Doctor Thompson’s clinic to be looked over.

As Leslie looked the two civilians over, Agent A snuck out and back to the hideout where the downed man was just coming around.

(Commissioner Gordon ended up with a man beaten up and files full of evidence against the man and others hurting children. Jim Gordon took pleasure in slapping charge after charge on the man and the others, including more police officers who he had thought were not corrupt.)

When Agent A joined the trio, Batman was with him. (Bruce had gotten his own hits in when he saw files on Dick and Roy. Oliver had been alerted and was hunting down the men and women in Star City that were a bit to interested in children, especially his son.) Batman, who had found the files and most of the evidence, dropped to his knees and hugged the three boys. He silently vowed to do better in his relationship with Dick and to keep a close eye on the two younger boys and where they would be placed.

Batman redid the vow months later to include all his children when he finally admitted to Alfred and himself that Jason and Tim were best left with the family.

Jason and Tim, like Dick, was the best thing that happened to him.

All his children, present and future were.]

[Roy and Oliver’s arguments in the future would never get as bad as they should have been because Oliver followed Bruce’s example and opened up to his son. Roy would be able to fall back on his dad when he started to get addicted and would have the support he desperately needed from the start. Lian would grow and never die since she was with her dad and grandpa all the time and not just Roy.

The whole family would be happier.]

[Jason, by way, never became estranged from the family. He does die but Talia puts him straight into the Pit and then takes him home with Damian.]

Fuck off, you big boob!

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Could you do a one-shot where alastor is super nervous when meeting reader, not really on his face but more his body language where when she shakes his hand he continues shaking it or doesn't let go immediately. nervous smile too lol, thanks love your stuff!!

Heeey I wrote it hope you don't mind some interpretation on my part! You didn't mention why Alastor was nervous so I just did whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Tags: Oblivious Alastor, Cartoonist Writer, Humor, awkward affection, Alastor is either oblivious or in-denial, Nifty is Nifty and you should all love her

-----------------------

Alastor’s introduction to you was not a willing one. Charlie had started a bit of a bookclub at the Hotel as some odd attempt at bonding. Alastor wanted no part of it, but after the 532nd time Charlie asked him he said something particularly scathing and the princess was cruel and told Vaggie, and the ex-exorcist would NOT stop stabbing his door until he finally relented.

Of course, his choice of book was one called ‘Blank’. It was a notebook with nothing written in it. Very easy to discuss at a bookclub.

Charlotte was not impressed and Vagatha once again starting throwing vague threats in his direction. How tempted he was to just kill both of them, but alas this hotel has been the greatest form of entertainment he’s had in years (is what he tells himself.)

Darling Nifty came to his rescue, offering up a variety of different light-reading to be discussed in the future. Most of which were….not to his taste. Nifty’s interests highlighted most definitely, but Alastor quickly chucked the books out the window when the story turned to ….that.

As the number of books dwindled, he was just about prepared to give up on this stack entirely and fetch something meaningless to pretend to read (who’d check, anyway?).

He picked up one, a flimsy comic-book like thing and rolled his eyes once before giving it a go. The story wasn’t anything particularly interesting. The plot was just two bunnies going to get some ice cream. But the wordplay, the exaggeration of all the smallest obstacles, how self-aware and absurd it was gave him a good laugh. The Radio Demon’s first introduction to your work.

Although the bookclub idea ended up going nowhere, Alastor found himself seeking out more of your works. Another about a man just making a taco, one about a woman folding her laundry. So many little, day-to-day situations amplified to a ridiculous amount. Clever one-liners and humorous puns sprinkled throughout kept it intelligent enough for him to maintain interest despite the absurdity of it all.

Eventually he got a cartoon you drew that seemed just the same as the rest. Some random cute cartoon raccoon drawing some random little cartoon things. There was a scene in it though that stuck to Alastor’s mind (and dare he say, heart) like glue.

In it, the raccoon was confronted by a shark. “Why do you bother making these?” the shark sneered “No one reads these but you, no one looks at them but you, there’s no point.”

“Why does there need to be a point?” The raccoon said. Alastor’s ears straightened up on their own accord as he read “Even if no one sees it, it’s something I made and it’s some I enjoyed making.”

“Even if you put it out there, no one will care about it.”

“Someone will. They might not say anything but there’ll always be at least one.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound? No one gives a crap about your ‘passions’!”

“I do.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound-“

And then the raccoon pressed a button and an anvil fell onto the shark, comedically turning it into a pancake. “Your argument doesn’t have any depth.” The raccoon said. The story moved on from there.

It struck a bit of a chord with Alastor, he could admit that much to himself. And the raccoon’s way of dealing it was something he’d keep in mind for his next encounter with an annoyance. He didn’t put much stock in it, as storytellers and their stories don’t always agree on all things.

Your comics were a little joyful distraction when he needed them, that was all. Nothing deep and profound.

“BOSS!”

Alastor slammed shut the book he was reading, his grin never faltering though his twitching ears indicated a slight nervousness. He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Hello, Nifty! Did you need something?”

Nifty scamped up his chair and onto his lap, settling down andstaring up at him with her one big eye. “BOSS BOSS BOSS BOSS I MET THE DEMONESS WHO DRAWS THOSE CARTOONS YOU LIKE”

Alastor’s eye twitched “Oh? Well, that’s neat.”

She stood up, squishing his face between her hands and stared more as her grin grew wider and more manic “Did you want to meet her?”

Yes

“Now, now, Nifty.” Alastor said as he removed her hands from his face “There’s better ways to waste one’s time.”

Nifty tilted her head, staring at him as though it would allow her to see into his mind. Her expression shifted into….One he hadn’t seen on Nifty, admittedly. The best way he could describe it was ‘smug’. But what would she have to be smug about?”

“If you say so, Boss!” She chirped, hopping off his lap and trotting off “But yeah I was at the Evermore Book-Store and she was there working ‘cause I guess that’s what she does for a livng….” Nifty’s voice faded away as the little maid walked off, not caring her rambling were being said to no one.

After Alastor had finished his errands for the day, he happened by that very store…for…Reasons. Upon entering it, he realized he had no idea who- what- he was looking for. The store itself wasn’t large. A couple patrons, one large hulking demon with tiny spectacles at the desk and a much smaller one organizing shelves.

One of the workers, then?

Not that he cared.

“Pardon me!” Alastor chirped to the desk demon. Their big eyes seemed to move in slow motion to him, a low grunt accompanying the acknowledgement. “I’m looking for someone, yes? The author of some silly comics?”

The demon slowly narrowed their eyes, lips curling up into a snarl as a growl emanated from them.

“Ah, so she is here?”

The demon planted their very large hands on the desk, pushing themselves up to stand at their full height. They were taller than Alastor by a good three feet, and much more muscular as well. Their nostrils flared, blowing hot air into his face.

Alastor wasn’t the slightest bit phased. (He found it funny, actually). “So may I speak to her?”

The large demon opened up their gaping jaw-

“That’s me, hi! How can I help you?” The shelf-stacking demon interrupted, getting between Alastor and the clerk demon. A nervous little lady with a wobbly unsure smile and bags under her eyes that looked like they could carry the entirety of Hell in them.

Alastor held up one of your comics- a book that has been very obviously well-read “You’re the creator of these splendid little things?”

“Splendid…?” You repeated him, trailing off into an amused snort “Er. Yeah, I wrote and drew those.” The Clerk behind you closed their mouth, setting back down on their chair and adjusting their spectacles. The glare didn’t leave Alastor.

“Well, my dear, I find I quite enjoy them! It’s quite a pleasure to meet you.” Alastor said, not paying the larger (glowering) demon any mind. He found himself wondering why you were so tired and so timid. A woman like you should be so much more cheerful! Alastor was a tad offended….Because you weren’t smiling like he did. That’s it. Really.

“Well. I’m glad you like them.” You said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You offered your hand for him to shake.

One of his ears twitched. You must be fairly new to Hell, to offer a handshake so easily. Or perhaps a bit sheltered or on the naïve side. Alastor briefly considered making a sly deal to take your soul, but… Well, there was no need for that.

He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. Your hand was so much smaller than his own, but it felt as though it warmed his entire body. This was strange. Perhaps you were casting some spells on him? Why was he finding it so hard to focus- why did he feel like he didn’t know what to say next- why-

The Clerk gripped Alastor’s arm in between two fingers, gently but assertively pulling it away from you. You took half a step back, cradling your arm to your chest as if he burned you. Alastor glared up at the Clerk “Is there a problem?”

The large demon growled. You intervened again “Er….You were just. Holding my hand for a while. It was……kind of weird.”

“Ah.” Alastor cleared his throat, straightening his posture with a flourish “My apologies! Mind was elsewhere, you know how it is with us creative types.”

You blinked. Then your timid smile turned a bit more confident. A bit more…like a smirk. “Er. Yeah, I guess so. Well. See you around, I guess?”

“If I have the time, I suppose!” Alastor grinned “Well then, I must be off! Ta-ta!”

You watched as the strange demon disappeared into shadows and slivered off. As soon as all trace of him was gone, you laughed quietly into your hand “Well, I can certainly say for certain I know someone ‘awkward as hell’ now.”

Your friend groaned, gently pushing you over as they continued their own work.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (12 - Red)

Chapter Summary: Unable to accept that she is now part of the team, you try to avoid Wanda Maximoff at all cost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4k+ | Chapter Tags: Age of Ultron!Wanda, Enemies to Lovers (sort of)

A/N: I got some interesting asks about Y/N's background. There are backstories about Y/N that will come up since Part 2 is purely a flashback. However, things such as how she became an Avenger is not covered, but you're welcome to ask me for headcanons (or give your own!). P.S. Someone asked how old Y/N is in the flashbacks, and she's actually younger than Wanda P.P.S get ready for some action too! it's my first time writing such a scene *_*// More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pretending Wanda Maximoff didn’t exist was easier than you initially thought.

You got good at avoiding her. It became part of your routine—timing your movements through the compound to miss her by minutes, memorizing her schedule so you could always be somewhere else. Sometimes you’d see a hint of her around a corner, a flash of the crimson jacket she usually wore or the dark fall of her hair, but you'd steer in the opposite direction without a second thought.

She seemed to reciprocate—or maybe she simply picked up on the hint. Either way, you both managed to coexist without the need to acknowledge the other. You, a lifelong night owl, suddenly found yourself becoming a morning person the moment you realized Wanda preferred the training room in the evenings. Working out before dawn felt like the safest plan. You told yourself it was working.

Meals, however, were trickier. The kitchen and dining area were unavoidable shared spaces, and schedules didn’t always align as neatly as you’d hoped. Some mornings, you’d find her already there, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, or she’d walk in just as you were finishing up. 

The team had a tradition—dinners together, a semblance of family in a life that lacked roots. You started to skip these, opting for protein bars or quick microwaves alone. It was easier than facing her across the table, being reminded of what she forced you to see back in Johannesburg. 

But then you noticed Wanda stopped showing up, too. On the nights you did show up, her seat was empty. The others didn’t seem bothered, but you couldn’t shake the feeling it was your fault. 

Despite having won the territory, you couldn’t shake the guilt that came with it.

—

Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats again.

Their arguments had become more frequent in recent weeks, and although you usually stayed out of it, they were beginning to take its toll on the team. You could tell lines were being drawn; team members quietly taking sides, aligning themselves according to whoever had a mission lined up. 

You walked into the meeting room, late as usual, pretending you hadn't heard them from halfway across the building. Steve stood rigid, arms crossed over his chest, jaw set like granite. Tony reclined with that maddeningly casual air that mostly irked Steve, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other animatedly waved as he spoke. 

Wanda was tucked away in the corner farthest from the door, partially shielded by Vision. Trying to avoid Wanda only made you seek her out involuntarily, as much as you wished not to.

“I'm telling you, Tony, allowing the government to dictate our actions undermines everything we stand for,” Steve said.

Oh. This again? The politics of it all was your least favorite thing about being an Avenger.

“Accountability,” Tony replied. “We can't keep making unilateral decisions without considering the global implications.”

Steve shook his head. “We've operated just fine without bureaucratic red tape slowing us down. Every second counts when lives are at stake.”

Tony snorted in a way that’s supposed to rile up Steve even more. “Operating 'just fine'? You call the messes we've left behind 'just fine'?”

You cleared your throat. “Sounds like a party in here.”

Neither of them acknowledged you. Your gaze unintentionally drifted toward Wanda, and you caught her eyes just as she quickly looked away.

“Since when did you become a fan of bureaucracy?” Steve asked.

“Since the paperwork started piling up from our little international incidents,” Tony said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. 

You grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, leaning against the counter as their words volleyed back and forth. 

“Paperwork? Is that what this is about? You’re tired of paperwork?”

“I’m tired of taking the blame for all of us,” Tony said. 

“Well, you did create Ultron, didn’t you?”

Tony's eyes narrowed. If he weren't clad in his robe, he'd be suiting up right now. “Low blow, Rogers.”

“Truth hurts,” Steve replied.

You took a bite of your apple. “You two need a time-out or something?”

Tony turned to you, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, look who finally joined us. Got anything to say?”

“Nope,” you replied, chewing deliberately. “But could you tone it down? Your arguing is scaring the children.”

“You are the ‘children’,” Clint said with a smirk and you gave him a dirty look. 

Natasha hid a smile behind her glass. 

“I meant Vision,” you said, pointedly not looking at the synthezoid lest your gaze accidentally land on Wanda again.

Steve exhaled sharply. “This isn't a joke.”

Natasha set her glass down carefully. “Does this really need to be settled now?” she asked, her tone of voice indicating she’s taking charge now. “We gathered the team for a briefing, remember?”

“You're right,” Steve conceded. “We can discuss this later.”

Tony shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “So, what's on the agenda?”

Vision, to your surprise, got up from his seat. You recalled that before becoming whatever he was now, he had been Stark's AI, which gave him direct access to global networks. He would be among the first to hear any distress calls.

“We've received intelligence about a potential threat escalating in Southeastern Europe,” Vision said.

You took another bite of your apple, listening but keeping your expression neutral.

Steve picked up a remote and clicked it, causing a holographic map to appear in the center of the room. Red markers dotted a specific region. “A rogue faction has been intercepting shipments of advanced weaponry.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess—Stark tech?”

“Sort of,” Steve allowed. “But they're not just shopping for tech. They're also headhunting for the enhanced.”

At that, Wanda shifted slightly in her seat at the back, her attention fixed intently on the map. You noticed but quickly averted your eyes, focusing instead on the holographic display.

“Any idea who’s leading this faction?” Natasha asked.

“Not yet,” Steve said. “But Intel suggests they're planning something big, and soon.”

“So what’s the plan?” you tossed out.

Steve's eyes swept the room. “We intercept them before they can mobilize. It’s in the rural mountains of Cilo,” he pointed to a spot on the map of Turkey. “Barely any civilians, but we still play it clean—minimal casualties.”

“I'll prep the suits and run some satellite sweeps. Maybe we can get a clearer picture of their operations,” Tony declared, and without waiting for a dismissal, he headed for the door. Steve watched him leave, shaking his head with a mix of irritation and resignation.

“Roles, then,” Steve started, raising his voice just enough to reach the corners of the room—a small gathering today; Rhodes was with the U.S. president on a diplomatic trip in Asia, and Sam was aiding Sokovian refugees settling into their new homes.

“Natasha and Clint, you'll handle reconnaissance. Vision, you will join Tony for air support. I'll lead the ground team.”

“Who’s on the ground team?” you asked.

Steve held your look. “You, me, and Wanda.”

The pit of your stomach clenched. “Fantastic,” you muttered.

“Problem?” Steve challenged.

You quickly schooled your expression. “Nope.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “We roll out at dawn. Meeting’s over.”

As you headed toward the door, Natasha fell into step beside you. “You okay with this?” she asked quietly.

“Why wouldn't I be?” you replied, not meeting her eyes.

She gave you a knowing look. “I know what you’ve been doing. Pretending Wanda doesn't exist isn't going to work on a mission.”

You sighed. “I'll be professional.”

“See that you are,” she said. “For everyone's sake.”

—

The mission was set for the next day, and you were mentally running through strategies, trying to anticipate every possible outcome. What you hadn't expected was a knock on your door late in the evening, well after Steve's usual bedtime of 9 PM. 

Normally, you'd peer through the peephole to check who it was, but your mind was elsewhere—fixated on a particular restaurant in Istanbul you hoped to visit if there was any downtime after the raid. You'd never confess this to anyone, but you were a bit of a foodie. Sampling the best cuisine in each country your Avenger duties took you to had become a personal quest. 

Without thinking, you stood and walked over, opening the door to find Wanda standing there, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. You looked down at your feet, waiting. 

“I need your help,” she said. These were the first words she had ever spoken to you, and you didn’t know why you'd taken note of it.

You didn't glance up. “Don't recall offering it.”

She slipped inside without asking, the soft soles of her boots silent on the floor—a detail that annoyed you. “Steve said he wants minimal casualties, and my powers aren't exactly…gentle. I need to learn how to fight without relying on it too much.”

“So go ask someone else.”

“There's no one else available right now,” she murmured. “Natasha is out, and Steve thought it would be good if we—”

You cut her off, finally raising your head to look at her. “I'm not interested.”

Wanda scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t be coming to you if there’s—”

“Then maybe Vision can help you,” you suggested coldly. “He seems to have taken a liking to you. I'm sure he can dig up some martial arts videos for you.”

She bristled. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like being civil is something that could actually make you sick.”

You met her gaze, unflinching. “I don't have time for this.”

Wanda inhaled sharply, and a strange energy coursed through your veins, the furniture in your bedroom shuddering as though caught in a miniature earthquake. But you held your position, unafraid.

“If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to report back to Steve,” she warned. 

The threat was so feeble it almost made you laugh.  But you aimed to be more cruel than that.

“Go ahead,” you replied coolly. “Tell him I won't hold your hand.”

Wanda looked on the verge of an outburst. Good.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you still standing at my door?”

Without another word, she closed her eyes briefly. Suddenly, you felt a subtle push against your thoughts—a whisper not your own. “Why do you hate me so much? We have to work together—”

You recoiled, anger flaring. “Get out of my head.”

“I was just trying to—”

“I don't care what you were trying to do,” you spat, getting in her face. “Don't ever do that again.”

She reeled back slightly. If it weren’t for the fact that she was a hundred times more powerful than you, you might have thought she was intimidated. But as you drew near, you saw it wasn't anger in her eyes, but hurt—a wounded response to your harsh dismissal.

After a few seconds, Wanda nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again,” she said softly.

Just then, Clint appeared around the corner. You gave him a questioning look. He might have seemed like he was just passing by, but you weren’t deceived. Clint had no reason to be in this hallway at this hour. It seemed more likely he had been eavesdropping on the last part of your conversation and chose this moment to step in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked lightly.

“I was just looking for someone to help me with hand-to-hand training,” Wanda explained, already backing away from your doorway.

“I’m the guy for that,” he replied. “Head to the training room, I'll join you shortly.”

“Thanks,” she said, casting a final glance your way before turning on her heel and striding away.

Clint turned to you the moment you two were alone. “Got a minute?”

“Not really,” you replied, though you stayed rooted in your spot.

He leaned against the wall beside your door. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing,” he countered. “You're being pretty rude.”

You folded your arms. “She never apologized to the team.”

“And you think giving her the cold shoulder is going to fix that?” he asked. “Grow the fuck up, kid. Bullying the new recruit isn't doing any of us any favors.”

“She did some really awful things, Clint,” you reasoned. “She hasn't taken responsibility for that.”

He sighed. “And you've never screwed up? Never done something you regretted?”

“That's different.”

“Is it?” he challenged. “Because from where I'm standing, we all have our demons. You don't see the rest of us acting like we're better than anyone.”

You looked away. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“Wanda showed me more than just a bad dream,” you whispered. “I—” You started to spill the details of your nightmare but stopped, the fear of appearing vulnerable, of seeming weak and worthless like your mother always made you feel, silencing you. When it became apparent you wouldn't continue, Clint added, “Ever thought that maybe she's dealing with her own nightmares too?”

You glanced back at him. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because we're a team,” he said simply. “And teams look out for each other. Even when it's hard.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“No one's asking you to be her best friend,” he said. “But at least be civil. Professional. The mission depends on it.”

You nodded, standing straighter. “I'll do my job.”

“Good,” he said, pushing off the wall. “That's all I'm asking.”

“Good night, Clint,” you muttered, heading back to your room.

“One more thing,” Clint called out just before you could close the door completely. “You’re right—she never apologized to the team. But she sure as hell apologized to you earlier.”

—

The Quinjet touched down just beyond the rocky outskirts of the small Turkish village, three miles from the fortified base the team was about to infiltrate. The rogue faction had been using it as a stronghold to store advanced weaponry and conduct illicit operations. You unbuckled your harness and stood, adjusting your gear as the rear hatch lowered to reveal the arid landscape bathed in the golden hues of early morning. 

Natasha caught your eye as she secured her gear. “Play nice,” she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. 

You gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

She arched an eyebrow but didn't press the point. Instead, she adjusted the strap of her Widow's Bite and headed down the ramp.

Clint was perched near a cluster of boulders, bow ready. He didn't speak; he just shot you a pointed look and nodded slightly. You'd never felt more babysat than you did at that moment. Trying to make an effort to improve your working relationship with Wanda (at their behest), you headed toward her without a clear plan for the conversation. A pep talk maybe? You weren’t great at those, but you had absorbed enough from Steve to last several lifetimes.

But just as you were mere steps away from her, she breezed past without a glance in your direction, heading straight toward where Steve was waiting for Tony and Vision's signal to advance. It was as if you didn't exist.

Fair enough, you thought. Two could play at that game.

You tapped the side of your headgear, bringing up the HUD that F.R.I.D.A.Y had uploaded with the mission parameters. A translucent map overlaid your vision, highlighting your designated route through the village's eastern perimeter. Your task was to secure the potential exit points and ensure no targets slipped through once the operation commenced.

“All right, everyone, we’ve got clearance from the air team,” Steve's voice trembled over the comms. There was an unusual distortion in the signal, and you silently hoped it wouldn’t cause problems later. “Check in.”

“In position,” came the succinct reply from Natasha

“Ready on the western ridge,” Clint reported.

“Copy that,” Steve said. “Wanda and I will approach the main entrance from the south. Y/N, you take the north side. Secure any escape routes and watch for patrols.”

You pressed a finger to your earpiece. “Understood.”

“Keep comms open and stay sharp,” Steve added, and with that, everyone moved into position.

You moved into position, the rugged terrain providing ample cover. The north exit was a chokepoint—a narrow path bordered by steep cliffs. Perfect for an ambush, but also a potential death trap.

“All clear on my end,” you whispered into the comm.

“Strange,” Clint remarked.

“Same here,” Natasha agreed. “It's too quiet. I don’t like it.”

Your instincts prickled. 

Then, a faint vibration underfoot. You frowned, kneeling to touch the ground. The tremor grew stronger, rhythmic.

“Do you feel that?” you asked softly.

“Feel what?” Steve's voice came through.

Before you could respond, the ground shook violently. From hidden crevices and camouflaged tunnels, a swarm of hostiles erupted, pouring into the pass like a flood. Dozens—no, hundreds—armed to the teeth and moving with eerie coordination.

“Ambush!” you yelled, scrambling for cover.

“Hold your position—we're coming for you!” Steve roared. 

It should have assured you, but for the next few minutes, you were on your own. You took stock of your surroundings. The pass was narrow—a choke point. It was clear now that it’s a trap, and the enemy got lucky that a superpowered didn’t end up scouting this area.

You opened fire with your dual silencers, taking down several men with precise shots. But for every one you dropped, two more seemed to appear in his place. They weren’t just attacking—they were herding you, forcing you deeper into the pass where the escape routes grew fewer and fewer.

Sweat trickled down your temple as you struggled to hold them off. Your muscles ached, and your breaths came in ragged gasps. An unexpected blow struck your side, slamming you against the rocky wall.

Gritting your teeth, you pressed against the cliffside, muscles taut. Outnumbered and isolated, and not to mention trapped on a dangerous corner, survival seemed impossible.

“Come on,” you muttered to yourself. “Think.”

Just as the closest attacker lunged, a surge of energy hurled him backwards. Wind seemed to come in every direction as Wanda landed on her feet beside you, her eyes glowing red.

Relief washed over you. “Your timing is impeccable.” You hadn't expected that seeing Wanda would make you feel so incredibly safe, but it did. It really did.

She gave a faint smile, eyes scanning the swarm of hostiles regrouping ahead. “We need to find a way out of this trap,” she urged.

“Agreed,” you replied, reloading your weapon. 

The narrow pass had become a funnel, channeling them straight toward you. Rocks jutted out from the cliffside, creating pockets of shadow.

“We're pinned down,” you noted, pressing your back against the cold stone beside hers. The space was tight, forcing you closer together. You could feel the warmth radiating from her despite the cool mountain air. 

Wanda glanced upward. “We might be able to climb to that ledge,” she suggested, her breath brushing against your ear.

“Worth a shot. I'll boost you up.”

Wanda gave a small, amused smile. “You don't have to do that. I can get up there myself.”

It took a moment for the realization to hit you. Of course—her psionic abilities allowed her to levitate. That's how she'd reached you so quickly earlier; she'd flown. Heat rushed to your face as embarrassment set in. “Right,” you mumbled, feeling a bit foolish. “I forgot you could... you know...”

If Wanda picked up on your discomfort, she kept it to herself. “I can give you a lift if you want,” she offered.

You looked up at the ledge, then back at her. Swallowing your pride, you gave a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Just relax.”

That was easier said than done, considering the enemies that surrounded you both. But even harder than that was the idea of letting Wanda use her powers on you, even if it was just to help you reach that damned ledge.

“Ready?” Her eyes combed yours, fishing for consent.

“Ready.”

Her hands came up, almost invisible in their movement. A warm fuzzy feeling wrapped around you, and the ground fell away as she floated you up, effortless as breathing.

“Almost there,” she murmured.

She steered you onto the ledge, and when your feet hit solid ground, you exhaled a breath you didn't know you were holding. “Thanks,” you tossed over your shoulder.

She smiled up at you. “Don’t mention it.”

She joined you shortly afterwards, landing gracefully beside you. The proximity was unavoidable on the narrow ledge, and you were acutely aware of how close you stood.

“Now what?”

Wanda leaned against the wall beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “We need to find a way to contact the team.”

You checked your equipment. “Comms are jammed.”

She frowned. “They must have a dampening field.”

An explosion rocked the ground nearby, showering you with debris. “We can't stay like this here forever,” you muttered.

Wanda took a deep breath. “There is... something I can try.”

You glanced at her. “What is it?”

She swallowed hard. “I can get inside their heads—like I did before—to make them stand down.”

Like she did before in Johannesburg—to you, to the entire team in this mission sans Vision. You saw the fear in her eyes—the fear of your judgment, of repeating past mistakes. It struck you then how much she regretted what had happened between you.

Another burst of gunfire erupted, making you both flinch. There was no time.

You looked her in the eye and nodded. “Do it.”

Wanda wasted no time further. She got to work, her hands moving like a spider’s legs weaving its web. Looking down, you saw the men freeze mid-step. One by one, they dropped their weapons, eyes wide with unseen terror.

Unable to help yourself, you asked, “What are they seeing?” 

Wanda kept her eyes on her work, pointedly avoiding your gaze. “Their worst fears and deepest guilts. They’re confronting the nightmares that haunt them most.”

For a split-second, you felt sorry for these people.

“Let's move,” you said, placing a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

—

Reaching higher ground, you and Wanda were finally able to reestablish communication with the rest of the team. From his position, Steve was quick to inform the local authorities about the perpetrators that Wanda had incapacitated with her powers, ensuring they remained trapped within their own mental constructs until help arrived. Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint were busy collecting crucial evidence from the scene, items they believed would be vital in piecing together a solid case against the previously concealed masterminds of the operation. As for Vision and Tony, they razed the base to the ground. 

Back at the Quinjet, you and Wanda took up positions to oversee and secure the extraction route.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

She looked up, slightly surprised. “Y-You’re welcome.”

You shifted your weight, grimacing slightly at a bruise forming on your side. “Thought being a veteran would make this mission easier,” you mused, going over the jet’s controls to give yourself something to do while you both waited for the others. “Overestimated myself this time.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. 

Another period of silence stretched out, taut but not entirely uncomfortable. She seemed to wrestle with something before speaking again. “May I ask you a question?”

You hesitated, wary of where this might lead. “Sure.”

She took a slow breath. “Do you think... you might ever forgive me for what happened in Johannesburg?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “Deep down, I know it wasn't entirely your fault,” you began, “but sometimes it's easier to face your fears when you have someone else to blame for them.”

She absorbed your words quietly. “I understand,” she said softly. She thought about Tony. For the longest time, she blamed him for everything.

“Wanda, I—”

Before the conversation could continue, footsteps crunched on gravel behind you. The rest of the team was coming down the trail, and Natasha was the first to pick up on the fact that you and Wanda had been left alone together without any fireworks.

She walked up to you with a sly grin barely lifting the corners of her mouth. “Good work out there,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and drifted to a quieter corner, away from the team.

Wanda had saved you. That much was clear, and it meant you owed her your life—a debt that sat uneasily with you. You were grateful, of course, but the last thing you wanted was to owe anything to anyone.

Especially not to someone who terrified you to your core.

[genderqueerdykes]

hello, i have a question concerning one of your recent posts talking about trans men, ftm and other male or mspec people being lesbians. i mean this in the most respectful way possible, but how could a trans man be a lesbian? isnt the whole point non men loving non men? im sorry if youve got this question before and thanks for answering in advance if you do

i get this question all the time lol but i don't mind answering. thanks for taking the time to ask!

that is radfem rhetoric that you've picked up from other people inadvertently- lesbian does not mean "non man loving non man," as gay does not mean "non woman loving non woman". "gay" is a form of queer attraction, so is lesbian. if we don't define "gay" by who we leave out, why are we doing so with lesbianism? we do not define who we are attracted to by who we leave out, that makes no sense. lesbian is a form of queer attraction that can include as many people as an individual feels is right for them. if we say "non men" to include nonbinary people why are we excluding nonbinary and other trans people who also happen to be men as well? some people are "non men" and men at the same time, so do we exclude them, too, or do we include them?

the logic falls apart instantly the second we remind ourselves that multigender, genderfluid, gender non conforming, genderqueer, (masc) nonbinary, genderfuck and other people who completely break the gender binary. and a lot of them are men and mascs. lesbians should not have to be shoved inside of a cis butch woman - cis femme woman dichotomy and nothing else. we've been tricked into thinking like radfems by viewing "proper" lesbian relationships as relationships between cis lesbians and feminine afab nonbinary lesbians (who are being viewed as cis women in this scenario) and nobody else. we need to allow lesbianism to be diverse, otherwise, we will continue this radfem echo chamber that has been going on for decades!

we must also consider that lesbian is a form of queer attraction, so it can include lots of experiences, just like gay can. nonbinary people, genderqueer people, trans people of all genders can use "gay" how they see fit, whether it means they're attracted to men, women, nonbinary people, intersex people, genderfluid people, and so on. people of all genders are allowed to do the same thing with dyke, sapphic and lesbian as well! the most common useage of the word lesbian is to mean wlw, but that doesn't mean every single lesbian, dyke and sapphic explains it that way. some lesbians, dykes and sapphics experience multiple modes of attraction! some are bi, pan, poly, omni and so on

lesbianism and men are not polar opposites. lesbians can be multigender or genderfluid. lesbians can be transmascs and trans men and guys and boys and men. lesbians can be boydykes and guydykes. many trans men and mascs start out in the lesbian community and find their home there. some find they never stop feeling like lesbians or butches or dykes. there are two-spirit lesbians who are also men. this is totally okay. this sort of thing can hurt intersex lesbians. this kind of thinking can hurt transfem lesbians and lesbian trans women as well if transphobic people consider them "men". we need to stop trying to exclude as many people as we can from lesbianism, and focusing on including people instead. lesbian is not and well not ever be an exclusive term that only applies to women and women only. let's be real, "non men" just means very feminine nonbinary people and ""women-lite"" enbies. this doesn't apply to masc enbies and trans people, because where does the line between "non man" and "man" begin? it doesn't exist

hope that helps! thanks for taking the time to ask! have a wonderful day you can also search the tags on this post on my blog as i talk about this a lot! :) this works best in desktop or in a browser on mobile.

[aliwritex]

dad!franco headcanons 💐

Before the baby was born, when the furniture for the nursery started arriving he insisted on putting it together himself because he was ‘totally capable of doing so’. And you believed him, but he had a flaw, he never actually read the instructions, only quickly looked at the pictures and guessed it was enough. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. “what happened? i thought you were almost done” you were surprised to see multiple parts of the crib back on the floor “i used the wrong screw, so i was missing some long ones, so i had to got back to get them” “leave it be for tonight, yeah? i’ll help you with it tomorrow” The next morning everything went smoothly as you actually read the steps and organized the different screws and parts by numbers.

You enjoyed being pregnant more than you thought you would, because of your active lifestyle and young age pregnancy was very easy on you. And most of your days were spent on walks, pilates classes and buying. Almost every day you were doing deep research on the best products of each category and online shopping. Especially if Franco wasn’t home, it was the best way to spend time and feel less lonely. You would always call him when things arrived, showing him everything and putting it away in the nursery.

Franco cried way more than you expected when your son was born. Maybe it was because of the exhaustion of being awake with you for 13 hours of labor, maybe he was just very emotional. You were in a bubble for a second when they finally handed you the baby — and it was a short second because you still had more to deliver. But as soon as you were all cleaned up, taken care of and sound asleep Franco turned his full attention to the baby. When you woke up he was humming and the baby was sleeping in his bare chest, only a blanket covering their bodies. “i love you two” you whispered to them

Nothing made Teo happier than seeing his dad come home from work. He was always all smiles when Franco walked through the door or waking up to him when he got home in the middle of the night. “hey” you whispered into the dark nursery “you didn’t need to get up, i got home just in time for his bottle” “thank you, my love, but i’ll take it from here, you go shower so we can go back to sleep” you’d be too tired by the time he was done to say anything about him sneaking Mateo in the bed with you.

Your favorite thing in the world was seeing them sleeping together. It seemed that your boyfriend had magical arms because no matter how fussy or upset Teo was, the second Franco picked him up it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes open, bonus points for chupi and blankie. That’s what you missed the most when he was away, you didn’t have the same patience if Teo was throwing a tantrum to skip his nap times or pushback bed time. You never understood what was so magical about Papa’s chest that made him fall asleep in minutes, if anything you were supposed to be more comfortable – you had two natural pillows! “¡Papa!” your son whined and ran from you when he heard the front door open. “¿que pasa, mi amor?” he picked him up and the crying stopped almost immediately but as Franco made his way in he realized the boy wasn’t the only one crying “vida? what’s wrong? what happened?” he asked but you just buried your face on his other shoulder, letting your tears soak up his shirt. “i’m sorry, ‘t’s nothing, let me take him” “what? no. what the fuck happened here?” he asked calmly “what are you even sorry for?” “not being enough for him, for you. god, i’ve been wrestling him to go to bed for so long, then you get here and boom, he’s out. i just didn’t know what to do anymore” he heard your confession and hugged you tighter, rubbing his palm on your back. “you could’ve called me. i’ll be back in a second. always call me if it gets too much” he kissed the top of your head.

When Franco was home he was in charge of putting Mateo down for his morning nap while you cooked lunch. This one monday though, he had just gotten home a couple hours before but insisted on following your routine, so he sat on the couch with his son, arm wrapped around him to support the bottle in his mouth. Franco was the one to fall asleep instead of the child, who slipped from his dads hold. When he woke up you were standing in front of him, taking a picture of his sticker covered face. “I told you I could put him down if you were too tired” you said, taking the bottle from his hand — that had spilled all over your decorative pillows. “Did he sleep?” you chuckled and pointed to the floor, where your son slept hugging his favorite stuffed animal.

[bellesdreamyprofile]

Little Town Blues - Benny Cross

summary: nothing seems to go in the right direction for Y/N, benny is frustrated yet comforts her

They called it Monday blues, but the only way you found fit to describe today was disaster. It all started in the morning as the sun seemed too shy and let the rain take over. You had nothing against a rainy day when you were in the comfort of your own home with a mug of milky tea in your hold and a romance story in your lap.

But when you had to walk to work in those weather condition... That wasn't an experience that had ever thrilled you. Waking up late and getting ready in a hurry made you forget your boots, therefore mud decorated the soles of your shoes and your toes wiggled uncomfortably at the muddy water seeping through the cheap material. You took deep breaths, desperately trying to convince yourself that the day couldn't get worse.

You underestimated the universe.

One hour into your shift and a customer spilled their hot coffee all over your apron. You gritted your teeth at the stingy sensation and still offered a smile.

"It's alright, accidents happen."

That was what you tried to remind yourself anyways.

Scrambled eggs fell on your shoes, having the chef quickly apologize in embarrassment. But it was alright, for accidents do happen. It was human and it was just a pure casualty that the universe picked you today as the victim of one of those Monday blues.

The rain hadn't stopped even when you made your way back home, your mind wondering if Benny had come home safely. You had never been on the back of the bike during the rain. You just hoped that he wasn't being reckless and driving around when he could get seriously injured.

A sigh escaped your lips, one of those that lightened the load on your chest a little bit, giving you a tinge of relief. But just as you found yourself smiling a little, a car drove into a puddle and sprayed you all over. You stilled in place and threw a quick look at yourself. With a head shake and tears in your eyes, you kept walking but the mantra, that had played in your head that morning, was long forgotten. On top of everything, your stomach almost burned in hunger, the feeling only making you walk faster.

Benny's motorcycle was parked in front of the house and you felt at peace, glad that he had made it home. You pushed the key in the keyhole and twisted it open, your elbow on the handle and your hands fiddled with the umbrella.

"I'm home!", you called and pushed the door open, leaving the umbrella tucked in the corner. You took off your shoes and made a mental note to clean them later. Looking around, you noticed that the only noise in the house came from the television in the living room.

The room was dark apart from the flashy lights coming from the screen. You looked at Benny, leaning on the doorframe. "You ain't gonna say hello to your wife?", your tone was teasing, but Benny didn't seem to catch that. He gulped down his liquor and glanced your way.

"The hell happened to you?", he asked instead, but you rolled your eyes and headed in the kitchen. "I don't know who you are right now. Did you jump in a muddy pool or what?", Benny stood up and followed you.

His commentary was the last thing you needed today. You started opening cabinets and bit your lip as there was nothing you could cook with.

"Did you eat?", you asked, looking at him over your shoulder.

He pulled one of the chairs back and sat down. "Yeah, made a sandwich.", at his answer, you snapped the doors of the cabinets shut. Benny flinched and looked at you, confusion written all over his face. "What is wrong with you today?"

You turned around and snapped. "When I come home before you do, do I make a meal for myself or for the both of us?"

Benny's brows shot to his forehead, wondering where the hell all of this was coming from. "It was a sandwich with leftover bacon, Y/N. You don't even like bacon."

"I didn't ask you what the sandwich was made of, Benny."

"Then I ain't gonna answer. I had a shitty day today and I don't need this right now.", the chair screeched as he moved back to stand up. You let out a sarcastic laugh, tears of frustration mixed in.

"Wow, okay.", the sour tone in your voice disappeared as quickly as it made its first appearance. You had the worst day of your life and you were taking it out on an innocent man. Your hand muffled your teary cries as you pathetically turned around to not be seen by your husband.

Benny had stepped foot outside the kitchen, but the sound of muffled cries made him turn around. There was no way that a little argument over a bacon sandwich transformed you into a weeping mess. Right? His blue eyes took you in, the coffee-stained apron, the wet hair and dirty socks. The dots suddenly connected. His poor girl. 

He silently approached you and embraced you against his warm body. The faint smell of smoke and strong liquor filled your senses. You couldn't help but fist his t-shirt, afraid that he was going to disappear. Still no words were shared, but the way Benny held you and rubbed his hand up and down your back, told you everything he wasn't capable of saying.

"It ain't about the sandwich.", he broke the silence with the most obvious statement. You let out a tearful chuckle and Benny gently led your face back in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry for being insensitive. I hate rainy days.", your cries were heart-wrenching, but he knew that it was one of those days where nothing seemed to align. The coffee, the rain and the lack of dinner. 

"I have a proposition for you, honey.", he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. "You take a nice, warm shower and I'll show ya what kind of sandwich I can make. No bacon and no miracles, though.", you pulled away and sniffled, looking in his blue eyes. Even after blaming him for everything the universe had planned for you today, he was still the sweet Benny you had met all those years ago. 

"You better go or I'll personally make sure you're in that shower.", Benny's hand swiftly touched your forehead and then pressed against your cheeks. "You're freezing, baby.", he squished your cheeks briefly and placed a kiss on your lips, making your head and heart spin.

"Thank you, honey.", you said honestly, your voice hoarse from crying. "You're probably the only cure to the Monday blues.", if you hadn't cried for so long, you would've noticed the soft blush adorning his cheeks. But that was no time to point it out.

"I'm the cure for you and for you only, baby."

A/N: more sad one-shots to cure wednesday blues. thanks for reading! 🤍

MASTERLIST benny masterlist

austin butler phone case 🌼

[zolo-san]

So I started thinking about Skypiea/Post-Skypiea Zosan last night...

and thinking about how there's no way that Sanji had an easy recovery with the full body burns he ended up with and I could see Zoro going out of his way to help Sanji out because Zoro has been there He's been seriously hurt and had to take care of himself and while Sanji has chopper, I think that Sanji would be similar to Zoro (If not worse because Sanji has a worse self image than Zoro) in that he would be afraid of worrying Chopper or being a burden and would try to do a lot on his own or act as if it wasn't that bad But Zoro would clock that shit immediately because he does it too And I think Zoro would also be able to tell when someone is moving differently because of pain or an injury But I think some of the things Zoro would do to help Sanji would be small like grabbing something for him so he doesn't have to move too much and hurt himself or making sure he doesn't spend too much time out in the sun and get dehydrated or over heated I think he'd try to get him to sit tf down more too which would be hard since Sanji is such a care taker and gets joy out of doing things for Nami and Robin (I think Robin would be more insistent that he doesn't do this during this time tho because she's suspicious that he's not totally healed/hiding the pain while Nami may not pick up on it right away, very much to Zoro's irritation) But I think he would also try to help Sanji in bigger, more meaningful ways too, like going out of his way to ask Chopper to each him how to change Sanji's bandages because he knows Sanji hasn't been going to Chopper when he needs too and he knows how hard it is to do something like change your own bandages, especially when in pain, because he's done it himself in the past and I think he'd know that it's something really vulnerable, so he'd be very gentle about it and not push too hard, but still insist that Sanji let him help And I think Sanji would be seriously blown away by how caring and gentle Zoro is being towards him He'd notice all the things he's doing and be really touched It's not like Zoro wasn't helpful on occasion in the past or never showed any care for when Sanji was hurt before, but I think that this being one of the first time Sanji got seriously injured and the fact that it happened because Sanji was trying to protect others would make a big difference to Zoro I think Zoro would know that Sanji really needed the help and would want to show how much Sanji and his actions meant to him

In my own little Zosan timeline, Skypiea is when Sanji sort of has to come to terms with/admit to himself that he has feelings for Zoro, but I think that he would assume that there was no way Zoro would feel the same way about him because how could he? but I think something like this would be a sort of "Oh...." moment where Sanji realizes that Zoro really cares about him but I also think it would make him really confused and conflicted (in my timeline at this point Zoro almost completely assumes that Sanji is straight and has come to a point of fully accepting that he and Sanji will never be together and he's okay with that, as long as Sanji is happy and he's still allowed to be a part of his life) Anyways.... just some Skypiea stuff I kept thinking about last night~ It'll probably make it into a fic one of these days if the universe would just give me some time to write o(-< I have a full scene in my head and I want to write it very badly, but the whole fic isn't fully cooked yet~

Also thanks to this post for getting my brain thinking about Skypiea Zosan and leading me here lol

[kiajacksonmanifestation]

How I Manifested My Boyfriend in 2 Days <3

I kicked things off by taking some time to reflect on what I really wanted.

I realized I was longing for a relationship, craving a meaningful connection that would let me love deeply and be my true self.

Once I figured out what I truly desired, I started looking for subliminals to help me attract my future partner.

Ironically, the subliminal I picked was all about receiving a “love confession” from your significant other.

Keep in mind, I was SINGLE when I decided to listen to this. My mind instantly jumped to the idea that I already had a partner before I even hit play on the video.

I was expecting a love confession from “my partner,” even though I was completely single at the time.

And that’s how I ended up manifesting my boyfriend! He appeared out of nowhere and is just the sweetest guy!

He gets me completely, loves me without conditions, supports me through everything, and teaches me new things. I couldn’t ask for a better relationship!

So, what’s the takeaway? ASSUME, ASSUME, ASSUME. Stick with that assumption and listen to subliminals that support it.

Also, make sure to practice self-love so you can share love with others. You need to feel complete within yourself FIRST, and then everything else will fall into place. Trust me!

Thank you guys for taking the time to read this post! I greatly appreciate all my followers (and future followers as well!)

Here’s the link to the subliminal I listened to!:

[sinnabarmoth]

Feeling Better

Pairing: Xavier x Fem|Reader

Prompt: Mini fic of Reader being a soft!dom with the lads. (Not necessarily sexual, just sweet 'let me take care of you' vibes. But this one is a little sexual.)

Content warnings: Handjob.

Word count: 1k

Links to the other lads: (Rafayel) (Sylus) (Zayne)

When Xavier came back from his mission you were over the moon. He had been gone for an entire week in a dangerous area fighting Wanderers. But now he was back! You had decided to go pick him up from the airport and treat him to hotpot. It wasn’t until you saw him that you realized that he had kept something major from you when he said he was coming home.

“Hey, thanks for coming to pick me up--”

“Why in the world is your arm in a sling?” you asked. “What happened?”

“Oh…I fractured it while fighting Wanderers. But it’s okay. The doctor said I’ll be fine in no time.”

“And how long is no time?”

“Four to six weeks…” he said sheepishly.

“Xavier! Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me you broke your arm?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“So what? You were just going to hide it for a month and a half? I’m your girlfriend, you’re supposed to tell me these things.” you sighed. Careful to mind his arm you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’m glad you’re home and you’re safe. But now I have to change my welcome home plans.”

“You don’t need to--”

“I don’t see how I’m going to be able to tie you up if your arm is in a sling. Although…I guess that is a kind of restraint. Nevermind. Best not to test it. Let’s just go get hotpot.”

“Tie me up?” his face went red. “I can’t believe you just said that in the middle of the airport.”

“I’ve said worse in public before and you know it.” you grabbed his suitcase and looped your arm around his waist. “Let’s get going. I’m starving and I know you have to be too.”

After hotpot you returned home. You grabbed the dirty clothes out of his luggage and threw them in the laundry. He told you that you didn’t need to unpack his stuff but you were being insistent. “Let me dote on you. I haven’t seen you in a week and you’re injured. Let me take care of you, okay?”

His face started turning red again. “Okay. Whatever you want.”

“Good boy.” you kissed his cheek.

You passed the evening watching movies but as evening fell it became increasingly obvious how limited Xavier was with his broken arm. That became obvious when he said he wanted to take a shower. The hospital had given him a waterproof sleeve to put over his cast but that still basically left him one arm short. It also wasn’t helping with getting undressed.

“Are you going to keep struggling in here or are you going to admit you need my help?” you cocked your head at him from the bathroom doorway.

He sighed, his shirt stuck halfway off him. “Yes, please.”

“Was that so hard?” you went over and helped yank the shirt up over his head. “Seriously, how’d you even get dressed if getting undressed is this hard?”

“I don’t know--hey! What are you doing?” he flummoxed as you started pulling his pants down.

“Helping you undress, remember?”

“I can do that part myself.”

“I don’t see what you’re getting so worked up about. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.” you giggled. “But I do like seeing you flustered. It’s so cute.”

“I--” he stepped out of his pants and turned on the shower. You rolled your eyes and started disrobing too. “What are you doing now?”

“I was thinking I was going to shower with you, help get you clean since you’re one arm short.” you said, stepping in next to him. “Why? Something wrong?”

“I just…” he glanced down. Between your bodies Xavier’s dick was already at half-mast. “You mentioned tying me up earlier and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But then you said we weren’t going to do anything cause my arm was broken so I was just planning on coming in here and getting rid of it myself.”

“Oh Xavier,” you turned his face to yours and kissed him. “Just because I can’t tie you up doesn’t mean we can’t do other things. I said I was going to take care of you today, remember?”

You gently took him in your hand, stroking your hand up and down and fondling his balls until he was rock hard. You pressed him against the shower wall so he had some support. He panted as you worked him over, his free hand grabbing you tightly by the hip.

“You worked so hard all week and then got badly injured. You deserve to be taken care of today and every day.” you pulled him down closer to kiss him. “Just relax and let me take care of you, baby. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” his brow furrowed as he tried to fight off coming too soon. “I’ll repay your actions, I promise.”

“I know you will, Xavier. But don’t think about that right now.” you pumped him faster. His moans grew louder until he was bucking into your hand. “Just feel good. I want you to be so good for me and come. Go on, I know you want to. Come for me.”

“I--I--” his head tipped back, exposing his pale throat to you. You kissed up his neck, pressing your body against his like you knew he enjoyed. You bit down on his chest and his cock twitched in your grasp as he came with a long moan. You kept pumping him until every drop had been emptied and his legs trembled to support his weight.

“Oh my sweet boy, you were really pent up, huh?” you grinned. “Feel better?”

“Yeah…” he took in deep breaths. “Much better.”

“Good. Cause we still need to get you cleaned up. Take your time to catch your breath, I’ll grab the shampoo.” you turned to grab the shampoo but Xavier kept a hold of you. “Something wrong?”

“Stay close a little longer.” he said, pulling you towards him. “Please.”

“Of course.” you hugged him, the spray of the water raining down on both of you as you simply embraced. “I love you, you know that right?”

“I love you too.” he said. “I’m glad you’re here to help me. In the past I had to deal with this stuff on my own so having a helping hand is nice.”

“I’ll always be here when you need me, Xavier.” you kissed the bite mark on his chest. “No matter what it is you need me for, I’ll be here.”