#it takes up about 2% of my life and that’s fine by me

[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.

[noodlemoondle]

You Always Come First

(No matter how upset I am)

Zayne x Reader

summary: you and zayne have a small spat over you neglecting your health. as a result of it, you decide to sleep on the couch, not wanting to bother/upset him even further. randomly waking up in the night, you notice you’re no longer alone on the couch and do everything you can to get the doctor back in bed before he’s sore for his shift tomorrow.

tags: not proofread!, hurt/comfort? (i didn’t rlly include the hurt part of it so im not too sure), fluff, literal sleeping together, caring n sweet zayne (when is he not), self indulgent per usual

a/n: bro tumblr is REALLY testing my patience. why is it so dumb with everything i try to post. it’s literally why i haven’t posted a fic in a while. i can’t take this much longer i may crash out soon. anyway, as always hope u enjoy! (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

side tangent: i actually have been so obsessed with caleb. it’s actually a problem. i have been loyal to zayne this entire time and i’ve been playing since release, but caleb is REALLY testing it. lord i’m a sucker for the protective n caring childhood friends to lovers trope (¯―¯٥) (id expect a caleb fic soon tbh if tumblr wants to stop hating me and making my life so difficult)

the fight was stupid. you were neglecting your health once again not taking your medicine, not resting, and ignoring doctors specific orders. zayne often could never say no to you, he always spoiled you and gave into any of your requests. the only time he was stern and stubborn was when it involved your health, that he doesn’t and will never budge on. you often lacked care for your health, pushing it to the back burners of your mind and often calling zayne dramatic saying “you knew yourself and your limits”. something zayne wasn’t particularly fond of. he confronted you about your recent negligence of your health and both of your stubbornness in your beliefs led to an argument.

it’s been an hour or 2 since it ended though. zayne left to your shared bedroom, most likely to do some work, while you stayed out in the living area, trying to distract yourself from the anger turning to sadness and guilt in your heart. you ended up deciding to just sleep on the couch tonight not wanting to bother him after an argument. you grabbed an extra pillow and thin blanket from a nearby closet and put on a random show so you wouldn’t have to fall asleep listening to your own thoughts. soon enough you were able to relax and fall into a slumber.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. you hear the tv still on as you slowly wake and become aware of your surroundings. once you can see clearly, that’s when you realize you were laying on top of zayne previously using his chest as a pillow unbeknownst to you. he has been peacefully sleeping on the couch with you for who knows how long. as you sat up in a panic you also notice a thicker, softer blanket, one you have preference for, falling off of your shoulders. instantly guilt is washed over you as you look at zayne, who is a somewhat light sleeper, somehow still deep in his sleep. you swallow quickly as you build confidence to wake him up.

you lean closer to his face which was awkwardly propped up by the couch’s arm rest, a position that you couldn’t imagine to be anywhere near comfortable. you lightly tap his shoulder and call his name trying to wake him up. soon enough he does, opening his eyes to see you staring back at him, the faintest smile appears on his face at the sight, almost forgetting of the spat you two shared earlier. before he could even say anything you scold him:

“why are you here? i was sleeping on the couch tonight. you have work early in the morning go back to bed and go to sleep.”

“couldn’t have you sore in the morning” he answers calmly releasing a small yawn in the process.

“neither can you! you have a long shift starting early tomorrow. i’ll be fine just go back to bed.” you quickly rebutted trying to push him off the couch, something that you didn’t have the strength to do, but nevertheless you persisted.

“i can get through a shift with an achy neck, however you can not.” he replies as he softly grabs your hands that are trying to shove him away back to bed.

“i know i’ll be fine. i’ll live to see another day. now go back to bed already!” you say. your voice getting louder as you’re starting to get frustrated trying to break out of his soft grasp.

“will you be joining me?” he asks softly not letting go of your wrists that keep trying to fight against him.

“no, i’m sleeping on the couch!” your voice raising above the tv still playing in the back illuminating the room.

“then it seems like i shall too” he states as he frees your wrists and pushes you back onto his chest, laying the blanket over you both.

before you can even think of a response zayne wraps his arms around your torso and closes his eyes to fall asleep once again, to which you quickly flick his chest to wake him back up. he opens his eyes again and looks down at you with an unamused expression.

“why won’t you just let me sleep here alone?” you ask in a tone he can’t quite place, nevertheless he can hear the slight amount sorrow that came along with it.

“i already told you, i can’t have you go into work tomorrow with a sore neck and back.” he says closing his eyes again despite your wishes against it.

“if you don’t wish to be with me tonight then i’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed” he continues. his arms involuntarily tighten ever so slightly around you showing how much he doesn’t want that.

“but i also told you!!! you can’t sleep on the couch, you have a few surgeries to complete, and you have to be in your best shape to do so.” you try to push up against his arms wrapped around you, another pointless action.

zayne sighs and opens his eyes again to look at you before speaking.

“well then you have two options. one, we both move over to the bed to sleep. or two, i sleep here and you sleep over in the room. my job isn’t physically taxing compared to yours, im not allowing you to go in if you don’t have a proper rest.”

he looks tired. you study his features before you respond to him. taking a moment to look at the eyebags under his eyes and a slight frustration growing in his face from this back and forth.

you sigh before answering “then to the bed we go”

a soft smile appears on zaynes face as he begins to get up. his neck slightly sore, but he wouldn’t reveal that to you. although it’s against your wishes, he lifts you up having you hold the blanket and pillow as he carries you back to bed.

he sets you down on your side of the bed, thinking you won’t necessarily want to be close with him tonight. not before tucking you in and kissing the top of your head whispering his love and goodnight wishes. as he gets into bed you turn to face him. once he fully lays down you scootch closer to him and grab onto the hem of his shirt. he instantly understands what you want and pulls you towards him, pressing you to his side as he wraps his arms around you.

he kisses your forehead once more and whispers

“we will continue our discussion after work tomorrow. goodnight, i love you.”

too tired to argue with him anymore you just nod your head against him replying quietly mouth squished against him making your words barely audible.

“goodnight, love you too”

[logoleptic-since-06]

It's Two-Faced, It's Too Late

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader Content: Fem!Reader, College AU, Athlete!Toji Fushiguro, Hacker!Reader, Stalking, Crack, Profanity, Suggestive, Not Proofread

MDNI

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Toji checks his phone to see the time is exactly 7 PM, so here he is standing in front of your dorm room’s entrance just as you asked him to. He rings the bell and waits. A few seconds pass and the door opens by itself, revealing a dark room only lit by purple LED lights.

“Toji Fushiguro,” he hears a voice call. His eyes follow the sound to find you sitting in front of your computer setup, your back facing him.

“Y/N?” he asks as he steps in hesitantly. Once he does, the door closes and locks behind him automatically.

What have you made your room into?

You kick the chair next to yours before saying, “Sit.” And for the first time in his life, Toji feels as though he is the one being intimidated. He sits on the chair and finally sees your face when he feels his heart do something it has never done before. 

It skips a beat.

Toji clears his throat. “Hi, I’m Toji.”

You look like you’re suppressing a mocking smile. “I’m aware.”

“Right, so–”

“Give me your phone.”

Right on business, huh? Just the way he prefers anyways. Then why does he feel a pang of disappointment? Ignoring the confusion bubbling in his head, he unlocks his phone and gives it to you.

“Has this stalker ever called you?”

“No, they just send me texts from different numbers.”

“When did it start?” you ask as you begin to connect his phone to your PC.

“About two weeks ago.”

“And how frequently do you get these texts?”

“At first, I used to get one every day, but after a week of that had passed, I’ve been getting multiple texts a day.”

“Show me the texts.”

He hesitates.

“What?”

“Well, the texts are just them telling me where I currently am and sending me screenshots of the tape.”

“I genuinely don’t care about seeing anything explicit, if you have the courage to film it, you can show it to me. I’m helping.”

He opens each text one by one and shows them to you; and in the last one, you see that Toji had finally asked what they demanded to which they talked about him having to resign from the basketball team.

“Is it okay if I transfer data from your phone to my PC so I can work on this?”

“Do anything, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay then, just a second,” you say as you open a window on your computer that is completely unknown to Toji. He unintentionally stares at you in awe as you work on your craft like an expert. As he watches as you type in what he assumes are codes, he can’t help but feel impressed by your skills.

“So how come I’ve never seen you around campus before?” He breaks the silence.

Your eyes don’t divert from your screen when you answer. “Uhh, I attend most of my classes online, and I don’t really have that many friends that I hang out with.”

“Why do you attend your classes online if you’re already on campus?”

“Well, first of all, I have a job so time management can be a hassle. And most of my work is online anyways, I have everything on this PC that I can’t carry to my classes.”

“Right.”

You soon disconnect the cable from his phone and hand it back to him. “I will do a thorough check up on the data and reach out to you later, okay?”

“Sure, thanks, doll.”

“Fushiguro, I have access to your entire photo library along with your browser history. If you call me that one more time, I won’t just go through them but also leak every single one of your secrets.”

“You have my what? I thought by data you meant my phone bill history or some shit.”

“I had to take everything just in case.”

“Just in case of what, exactly?”

“Who knows?”

Wow, he is terrified of you. “So like, are you gonna go through my shit now?”

“I’ll go through whatever I need to go through in order to investigate. Nothing more, nothing less. Now leave.”

“But you–”

“Leave.”

“Fine, damn,” he snaps before stealing one last glance at your face and turning back.

Note: The writing feels very bland and that's definitely not because of my busy schedule (it totally is). Part 3 will be out tomorrow hopefully.

Tags: @linaaeatsfamilies @aseqan @corvid007 @sevensdigitalheaven @minkoq

[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.

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 12]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of prior character death, mourning/ grieving, going to a grave site.

"Good afternoon. How can I hel- Hongjoong, what can I do for you? I wasn't supposed to come in today, was I?" Your eyes widened as you scrambled for your phone, wanting to check what day of the week it was. Maybe you were not supposed to open your store today.

You've only been working at the mansion for about 2 weeks so you were still getting used to the schedule of going there to work.

"No, no, (y/n). It's not a work day today, I actually came for another reason." He cleared his throat. You nodded your head slowly, waiting for him to say something.

"I know your store is open today but my mother's grave is completed, I was just told this morning." He informed.

"Oh, already..." You replied.

"Yeah, I guess it's faster than I expected. But anyway, I was about to go see and was wondering if you would like to come with me." Hongjoong asked.

"What...?" It took a while for his question to sink in. You were not family, why would he ask you?

"If you're okay with closing your store, the decision is up to you. I could bring you another day if you'd like." He offered.

"No, it's not that... Uh..." You didn't really know what to say or how to react.

"(y/n), if you're not ready. That's fine too. We can go another day." Hongjoong spoke in a much softer tone. He could sense and see the distraught on your face but didn't know the true reason why you were hesitant. Seonghwa was the one that suggested he ask you along to his mother's grave site.

It was good advice. But Hongjoong was worried, would you judge his indifferent reaction when you were both there? What if you cried and he didn't?

"N-No, I'm ready. We can go. All the orders today have been collected. Just... give me a sec." You collected yourself to reply him.

"Of course. Take your time." He said. You nodded and gestured for him to take a seat at the work table while you went to lock the front door up and turned your sign to 'CLOSED'.

"I'll just make a bouquet for her." You informed him and went to pick out the flowers.

"Let me pay for it." He stood up, fishing for his wallet.

"No need to." You shook your head as you headed to the work table. Hongjoong watched as you skillfully trimmed the flowers and put them together, wrapping them with a nice, sage green paper.

"Would you like a separate bouquet from you?" You asked him when you were finished.

"It's fine, just one from you is sufficient." He replied, looking at his phone to avoid eye contact with you. You didn't protest or argue, merely nodding and going to grab your things. You hung up your apron and went to the bathroom to adjust your clothes and hair.

"I'm ready to go. Thank you for waiting, I wanted to be a little bit more presentable." You smoothed your dress down.

"There's time to go back to your place to change, if you want to." Hongjoong informed you as you picked up the bouquet to cradle it in your arms.

"I'm good. Thank you." You bowed your head. Once Hongjoong and you were outside, you locked the back door.

"This way." He led you to the car. Despite Seonghwa's advice to take a driver, Hongjoong insisted on driving his own car on his own.

"Thank you." You gave him a small smile when he opened the passenger seat door for you to enter. You laid the bouquet in your lap, careful to not let the flowers get ruined.

"Wow." As Hongjoong went to the driver's side, you looked around the interior of the car.

"You have a nice car." You blurted out.

"Thanks." Hongjoong, for the first time that day, smiled. He even let out a little chuckle at your abruptness. Of course it was a nice car, a Porsche 911 Heritage, it wasn't easy for Yunho and Mingi to procure it. But it was one of Hongjoong's dream cars and he loved putting the roof down to drive in the country side.

"Would you like to put the roof down?" Hongjoong asked as he started the engine. Your eyes sparkled with curiosity before you shyly nodded your head.

"Alright." Hongjoong pressed the button and you watched as the roof folded and tucked itself in the trunk.

"That's cool." You said. Thankfully, it wasn't sunny out. And you didn't know that Hongjoong was doing all this to lighten the mood.

"Let's go." Hongjoong played some soft hip hop songs in the background before beginning to drive. You carefully held the bouquet as you looked out the window.

The wind felt nice against your cheeks and it didn't feel so stuffy as it would have been in an enclosed car.

"Tell me if it's too warm or uncomfortable and I'll close the roof." Hongjoong said as he drove.

"Okay." You nodded. Even though the car ride was enjoyable, you couldn't help the way your heart was racing as you got nearer to your destination, it was like an impending doom.

Your fingers nervously drummed against your knees. You told yourself you needed to maintain your composure and your emotions in front of Hongjoong, even if you didn't know what your reaction would be when you get there.

"I... didn't prepare any offerings... We can stop by a fruit store if you want." Hongjoong said.

"It's okay. Maybe next time." You replied. You didn't ask Hongjoong why, he must have his reasons for not preparing anything, and you didn't want to make him feel guilty either.

Soon, all the buildings disappeared and you saw all the graves come into view, all lined up on the green fields.

"We're here." Hongjoong parked the car by the side of the road.

"Take your time, (y/n). There's no need to rush." That was the most he could comfort you with. He knew if he went any further, he would be crossing the line.

"T-Thanks." Your voice was shaky, an indicator of your nervousness. You looked out at the fields, not knowing which was Mrs Kim's.

"Okay, let's go." You looked at Hongjoong. He nodded and got out of the car, coming over to open the door for you.

"Follow me." He checked his phone for the directions that the cemetery director had provided him earlier this morning. You walked behind him, careful not to disturb or trip over the other graves. Hongjoong would occassionally stop and look over at you to make sure that you were okay.

"Should be right here." Hongjoong stopped and checked the name on the grave, it was his mother's name and her picture. You looked, indeed it was her.

"Go ahead." You said before Hongjoong could ask you to go first. It was only right, he was her real, biological son.

"Um..." Hongjoong felt so awkward because he didn't know what to say. You moved back a little in case he wanted some privacy.

"Hey... I brought (y/n) here. You probably want to see her more than me at this point... I'll let her do the talking, there's nothing much for me to say to you." Hongjoong mumbled with a bow.

You couldn't really hear what he said but it did sound like he mentioned your name to her, not that you would pry.

"I'm done. Not much for me to tell her." Hongjoong said to you. You nodded and stepped forward.

"I'll move to give you privacy-"

"Please don't... Could you... stay here? Please?" You cut him off, almost begging him. He was shocked by your request, he assumed you would have wanted to speak to his mother privately. But nonetheless, he nodded his head and just stood behind you.

"Hi, omonim. How have you been? I hope you've been well, I'm glad your resting place is finally complete. I-I brought you your favourites." You stuttered as you laid the bouquet down.

"I miss you... Sometimes... I wish it's still you walking through the door..." You smiled softly as tears welled up in your eyes.

"But I hope you're at peace now, free from everything." You quickly wiped your stray tears.

"I'll come visit you more often, bring your favourite tea and snacks. Just like when you used to come during lunch or tea time to chat with me." You smiled through the tears.

Hongjoong watched from the back, you genuinely had a connection with his mother. You spoke more fondly of her than he ever did.

It was like you were her real child while he was the stranger.

"Sorry." You wiped your tears and stood up to face Hongjoong. Seeing your tears, Hongjoong felt a slight ache in his chest. A feeling he has never felt before.

Screw it, Hongjoong wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his chest. Right now, he knew you needed comforting, he didn't care about lines and boundaries. He could feel you hesitate for a few seconds before your hands gripped the material of his suit jacket and you softly cried into his chest.

As he held you, he looked over at his mother's grave behind you. Not once, since the news of her passing, has he cried. While you have cried a lot for her.

Yes, maybe the feeling in his chest was some sort of twisted guilt for not crying over his own mother's passing.

"Sorry." You cried. You didn't want to breakdown and cry, much less cry on Hongjoong's chest but you couldn't help all the emotions.

"It's okay..." He replied in a whisper.

Hongjoong and you stood there, he didn't make a move until you were ready to let go first. And once you regained composure, you did that. You pulled away and wiped your remaining tears away.

"I'm so sorry!" You said, horrified at the wet patch that was now on Hongjoong's shirt and the crumpled ends of his jacket where you had gripped too hard.

"It's fine, (y/n). Don't worry." He assured, patting your head. You felt your cheeks heat up at that gesture.

"We can go now..." You said softly.

"Are you sure?" He asked. You nodded your head. Hongjoong let you say goodbye to his mother, he didn't want or feel the need to, then you both headed back to the car. After you got in, Hongjoong kept the hood up, unsure if you wanted to just relax in the car.

"Can we put the top down again?" You requested. He hummed and pressed the button to put the hood down. With that, he began to drive out of the cemetery.

As he drove, Hongjoong glanced to the side, seeing you close your eyes as you felt the wind against you.

"I don't know how I'll be in a normal car again." You suddenly spoke with a smile on your face.

"Well, whenever you want to go for a drive, let me know." He chuckled. Hearing you say that, Hongjoong decided to take a longer route for you to enjoy the scenery for a bit.

"Would you like to go for some food or do you want to go home?" He asked.

"I don't mind going for food, if you don't have to go back to work." You turned to him with slight worry on your face.

"They don't need me. Let's go." Hongjoong said. You didn't know where he was taking you but you were fine to let him choose, you were not a picky eater.

"Hope you're okay with street food." Hongjoong told you as he parked the car by the street and pulled the hood up. You looked up at the restaurant selling street food, you were not expecting this. For some reason, you had the impression that Hongjoong and his brothers only ate at expensive places.

"I love street food." You replied. He smiled and came out, going to open the door for you. The both of you found a table by the side to sit together.

"Hongjoong sshi, what can I get you?" An older lady came to take your order.

"What would you like?" Hongjoong asked.

"Gimmari and soondae, please." You requested. Hongjoong added that to the order, adding on some other regular stuff like odeng soup and tteokbokki.

"Coming right up." The lady and Hongjoong exchanged friendly smiles before she walked to the kitchen.

"You come here often? The lady seems to know you." You asked as poured the tea into cups and handed one to him. He received it with a bow of his head and took a sip of the cold tea.

"Yeah, you probably thought that I only eat at expensive restaurants, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, you kind of stick out with your suit..." You mumbled, embarrassed that he somehow knew what you were thinking.

"Well, I don't blame you for assuming that. My brothers and I do usually eat at nice restaurants because of business and somtimes because my brothers own those restaurants. But that doesn't mean we don't enjoy our street food." Hongjoong said.

"Your brothers own restaurants?" You asked.

"Yeah, there are others too. They branch out into all different types of industries. It's good for overall business and they're passionate about it." Hongjoong shrugged.

"Wow... That's impressive." You said. You suddenly felt so small, you were just a florist. Who were you compared to them?

"Here we go." The lady came with a tray, placing all the dishes in front of you two.

"Thank you." You and Hongjoong said together. She smiled at the two of you and left. Hongjoong reached over to take the cutlery from the box and handed a set to you.

"Eat up. We can order more if there isn't enough." Hongjoong encouraged. A nice silence settled over the two of you as you ate.

"The food is really good." You said as you chewed.

"Told you." There was almost a proud smile on Hongjoong's face. You watched as he avoided all the vegetables on the plate. You tried your best not to snicker, remembering how Mrs Kim told you that Hongjoong never liked to eat his vegetables. But you didn't want to ruin the mood by mentioning Mrs Kim.

"I just don't like vegetables... If I can choose not to eat them, I don't." Hongjoong said, noticing you were staring.

"Ah! I wasn't judging..." You shook your head. Hongjoong snorted, thinking he caught you in a lie. But thinking about Mrs Kim again made you feel a little sad.

"My mother told you that about me, didn't she?" Hongjoong knew from the expression on your face.

"I..." You didn't know what to say.

"It's fine, (y/n). At some point, I have to come to terms with the fact that your relationship with my mother is vastly different from mine." He said. You looked down, not wanting to meet eyes with him.

"It's not your fault and I shouldn't have made you feel like it was." He continued, remembering what the other Ateez members told him.

"No, Hongjoong. It's okay. I... I understand." You said.

"Let me go get more soup." Hongjoong stood up, taking the bowl to go to the front. You looked at his back as the lady refilled your shared bowl then she reached over to pat his shoulder with a smile on his face as they conversed.

"Hyung! What a coincidence to meet you here!" Loud voices were heard from the entrance and your gaze shifted to see Yunho, Wooyoung and San standing at the entrance of the store.

"What are you guys doing here?" Hongjoong hissed with a frown on his face.

"We just went to the casino and wanted to drop by for a bite. It was really a coincidence." Yunho grinned.

"I don't know what you're up to... But go away." Hongjoong glared. He took the soup and headed back to your table. But of course, they didn't listen to the captain.

"Hey, (y/n)." Yunho greeted. You gave a shy wave to all 3 of them.

"Do you mind if we take a seat?" Wooyoung asked. You nodded, gesturing to them to sit down.

"You can tell them to go, you know?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at you. Your eyes widened, you definitely did not have the courage to tell the 3 of them to leave.

"She won't do that. She's not as mean as you, hyung." San scoffed. You've only been working at their house for 2 weeks so you were still getting to know them. One thing for sure was that despite their fierce looks, they were all really nice and for some reason, really liked to mess with Hongjoong.

"Get your own food." Hongjoong scolded, slapping Wooyoung's hand when he wanted to steal of a piece of soondae.

"It's o-okay! I d-don't mind." You stuttered, shaking your hands. They were the ones that approached you first as you were working, showing their friendly side and trying to become 'friends' with you.

"I want kimbap." San said. Yunho raised his hand to add more food orders. Your eyes widened at the amount of food they added on.

"They're big eaters." Hongjoong said to you.

"I can tell..." You giggled, watching Wooyoung pour their tea. San's injuries looked a lot better, compared to when you first went to the house and bumped into him.

"Your order is here." The lady came back and put all the food down. Your eyes widened at all the dishes.

"You'll get used to it soon." Wooyoung winked. You blinked in confusion while Hongjoong flicked a toothpick at him.

"Don't listen to him." Hongjoong said, checking his phone.

"You guys snuck out? Hwa is looking for all of you." Hongjoong looked up from the device with a frown of disapproval at the 3 sitting at the table. The 3 just gave innocent shrugs, continuing to eat their food, while Hongjoong replied to Seonghwa.

"Do you always sneak out of work?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"When you own the company, it's called an 'extended lunch break'." San corrected with a playful smirk. Hongjoong let out a long sigh and shook his head.

"Please don't think the entire company is like that, most of us are actually hardworking." Hongjoong said.

"Hey, we're hardworking too, hyung. We just like to take breaks." Yunho rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, not all of us are workaholics." Wooyoung added. Hongjoong facepalmed, there was no way he was winning against the 3 who were against him.

"Since we're done with our food, I can take you home now, if you want." Hongjoong said to you, ignoring the others.

"Aww, wait for us. We're almost done too." Yunho added.

"We can wait for them. I'm not in a rush to go back home or anything." You said.

"(y/n), you shouldn't be giving in to them, it's not good. Don't start giving into them and what they want." Hongjoong adviced. You giggled at his words, he was speaking about them like he was their father. It was nice to see such a dynamic between them, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were very much like parents to the rest.

"Nonsense. Don't listen to him. We're great, the life of the party! You'll always have fun with us." Wooyoung winked, slinging his arm around your shoulders.

"That somehow does sound unsettling." You chuckled, making the rest at the table laugh.

"Wooyoung. Arm." Hongjoong pointed out with a threatening glare. Wooyoung did obediently remove his arm from you.

"I'm taking (y/n) home." Hongjoong declared.

"See you next time, (y/n)." The 3 were honestly not that bothered, they would see you when you came to work at the mansion anyway, much to Hongjoong's annoyance.

~

Series masterlist

[allllium]

Master Plan Pt. 2

Jason x reader fake dating

~ This is a little short but the next one will be longer

~ WC: 899, They discuss a fake background

~ Jason is anxious about your plan

"Why do you plan to do? Walk in, say we're dating, and expect them all to believe it? Out of nowhere?" You ask him in confusion, Jason knows his family very well and he knows they wouldn't fall for it.

"Well what do you want to do? They won't believe it either way."

"Don't be such a downer."

"I still don't know why we're doing this. It seems dramatic."

"Yes it does that's exactly the point Jason."

"None of this makes any sense." He rolls his eyes and walks into his bedroom. You follow closely behind him.

"It makes perfect sense. Seeing your family will help you feel better, Jason whether you want to believe it or not. And this way, they'll all be so thrown off by the announcement of our relationship, they won't ask about other things. You can spend the next few weeks playing pretend and healing without their overbearing questions."

"Yeah, I guess I can see it that way." He sits down on his bed with small sigh.

"Hey." You sit down next to him, "Everything will be okay."

"I know, I would just like it to be okay now, not however far along."

You pull his hand into yours to comfort him. You've been friends for so long that small touch like this doesn't bother either of you.

"We'll work on it."

"Why are you so instinct on helping me?"

"Because we're friends, believe it or not I enjoy your company. When you're not being so mopey that is."

"Hey I am not mopey." He quickly defends.

"If not mopey then what are you?"

"Something else that's not mopey." He admits quietly.

"That's what I thought. Now backstory." You pull out a piece of paper from one of the notebooks Jason has on his dresser.

"Do we really need a backstory? Just tell we started dating a little bit ago."

"Oh no. If we're doing this, we're doing it properly. That means we're creating a backstory and answers to any questions they might ask."

"You've certainly thought this through."

"Yes I have because I want this to work. You realize if it doesn't they'll make fun of us for the rest of forever?"

"Which makes me wonder even more what you're real motive is for doing this?"

"Is it wrong to want to trick your family?"

"Not at all." You also want to help him in any way you can, it's what friends do.

"No that makes no sense." You're quickly learning not to take any of his words seriously. He's disagreeing with basically everything you say.

"Yes it does Jason." It's been almost an hour and you've gotten almost nothing done.

"No it doesn't. I would never do something extravagant to ask someone out." He shrugs and takes a chip from the plate on the coffee table.

"Why not? Relationships need a certain type of romance and work."

"I'd rather celebrate with a quiet night at home and a homemade dinner."

"Fine, we'll say that."

"What else?"

"I don't know. What do you think is appropriate for your family to know?"

"Nothing. My relationships are none of their business." You aren't surprised by his attitude with this. He doesn't like telling them anything about his personal life.

"Jason." You say sternly. Despite his words, there must be something he's thinking of. He knows how his family is.

"They'll probably ask who made the first move and when we realized our feelings."

"That's good, now you're thinking."

"So what do we say?" He asks with an uncaring tone.

"Well Jason, when did you realize you're feelings for me?"

"I felt some hatred since the moment I met you if that counts." He smiles like he's pround of himself.

"That's not nice. If you don't take this seriously, I'll have no choice but to make everything up myself and I'll make it so embarrassing for you you'll never want to leave the house."

"I'll tell them it's when we were-" He takes a pause. "Making dinner together for Alfred's birthday."

"That makes sense. Good job." He rolls his eyes.

"What about you?"

"I'll say the same. It'll mean more."

"Alright then."

The two of you fall into a strange silence and you can't pinpoint why. Of course it's been very awkward trying to talk about things like this. Making up lies about feelings neither of you have.

The whole time you're talking, he can't seem to keep eye contact with you longer than a split second. You want to ask him what's wrong but you know it's weird enough with the tension in the room and he'll probably not respond well to any personal questions.

The rest of the night is spent working on a backstory well enough to fool Damien and Alfred. Unlike Bruce, they both focus on the small details when it comes to stuff like this.

Dick and the others won't be a problem because they'll be so happy with Jason having a actual relationship.

You tell Jason all of this and by the way his body immediately relaxes you can tell it eased a lot of his nerves.

You start to question whether or not this is something you really want to go through with. You're scared it could ruin your relationship with him if it goes wrong but on the other hand it truly does seem like his best chance.

[igotanidea]

(7) Cheater: Dick Grayson x reader

part 1/ part 2 / part 3 / part 4/ part 5 / part 6

A/N: ladies and gentlemen I give you : THE FINALE! happy early b-day @pookieisme4life 🎁🎁 (I was about to wait till 24th but it turned out impossible I am so excited to post it!!!)

***

„Who the hell are you?”

Honestly, he could care less about the ID of the mystery person, nor he hoped for the actual answer, but the initial shock did just that.

They were driving towards some unknown destination that was allegedly the location of the place Y/N was taken to.

“Nice try, Nightwing. Keep dreaming” the person, who was already deemed as a woman, laughed, swirling abruptly yet skillfully.

“Seriously you can’t just expect me to address you in a hey, you way.”

“Valid point. For the sake of it, let’s settle on calling me Shadow.”

“Fine. Whatever. Now why are you helping me?”

“I did some bad things In my life. Maybe this is my way of making up for them.”

“Huh. Seeking redemption?”

“Pretty nice trope, isn’t it?” she laughed. It was actually pretty nice to be able to use humor even in dire situations. “I was always a sucker for the character who wants to do better in their life.”

“Yeah. At least you chose a better way to do so than my brother.”

“You mean Red Hood?”

“For someone I don’t know shit about, you seem awfully knowledgeable about my family ties.”

“Intel is everything, Nightwing. And yes, I know what your other brother, Red Robin, might say.”

“Who the hell are you?!” At this point Dick was really getting curious.

“A friend.” She responded, looking right at him, her eyes shining from behind the mask.

***

“Let me go!!”

“Easy princess. Behave or this might actually get worse for you.”

“LET ME GO!!” she struggled against the binding on her wrist and the sack put on her head.

“What did I tell you, you bitch!?” She was abruptly pulled out of the car and thrown onto the ground. “Do you have a death wish?!”

“Fuck you!”

“If I were you, I’d cooperate, you little slut. Otherwise we might have to scar that pretty face of yours more than it’s necessary.”

With a sharp movement the sack was torn off her head and she had to squint her eyes from the light that hit her eyes with excessive force, reinforced by the fact she had just spent god knows how much time in a dark car with eyes covered.

“Shit…” there was no possibility to hold back the hiss and a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Yes. Yes sunshine, you’re in deep shit.” The kidnapper kneeled to her level and caressed her cheek in a condescending gesture, obviously misreading her tears as a sign of fear and submission. “So pretty…”

“Piss off!” she acted instinctively, ending up with a slap on the cheek and stinging sensation that only added to her anger.

“Didn’t I tell you to behave?”

“I had a stinking sack on my head, maybe there was something wrong with my hearing at the time and – “ her head spun to the side as another slap, this time far harder landed on her cheek.

“Well you definitely heard me now. And if you didn’t I won’t hesitate to remind you again. Now get up, we’re taking you to the boss.”

Great.

She was in a freaking video game, when two brainless thugs captured her for a reason that was still a mystery to her and was now taking her to the den of a final boss on the level.

***

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

Should she even be surprised that said den had a design of a video game? Dark, cold, adjourned with different kinds of weapons scattered here and there, huge desk in the middle and three monitors that took up the entire wall?

Almost grotesque.

But hey, who was she to judge the taste of Gotham’s criminals, right?

She probably should have been terrified, praying to every higher power to be saved by Batman, Red Hood, Robin or – damn – even Poison Ivy in the worst case, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to that particular emotion. It was like her brain refused to anchor in reality and everything turned into a freaking dream she was sure to wake up from any second now.

Though maybe getting back to reality in which Dick was still with Sienna and she was brokenhearted wasn’t really a good alternative.

Right. Dick.

Did he even notice her gone? Or was he too busy patching things up with his girlfriend, already forgetting about Y/N? The girl he claimed to love?

A kick in the back of the knees that send her to the floor (again) made her realize that while getting lost in her thoughts she missed the obviously very important and very detailed speech of the villain who was describing his wicked plan to take over the world and –

“Ouch!”

“Stupid bitch.”

“It hurts!” she tried to squirm away from the kicking but it was immensely hard with her hands still bound.

“Hold the fire, boys. Easy. The lady is our guest after all and this is not how we treat guests, is it?” The goons chuckled darkly, because clearly guests were deserving of a far more cruel and brutal treatment. “Now, now, don’t be scared little one. We won’t hurt you. Much. At least not until you give us what we want.”

The owner of a deep, husky voice, who clearly was the host of the party finally decided to step forward and show his face.

Well.

Not exactly showing his face.

***

 “Could you at least tell me who we’re dealing with here?!” Dick muttered, keeping his voice low as he and Shadow pulled at the abandoned building on the outskirts of Gotham. “Do you even know?”

“Why? Does it matter?” Shadow joked “Would you use a different contingency plan for Riddler and another one for Two Face?”

“Could you please stop joking about it? This is my girlfriend we’re talking about!”

The emotions started to come to the surface, and Nightwing started becoming uncharacteristically scatter-brained.

“Idiot. Keep it down!” Shadow hissed, pulling him behind the corridor crease, miraculously avoiding the watchful gaze of the guardian. “Here’s what I get for putting myself at risk. Nightwing announcing his presence to the entire compound filled with criminals. Get yourself together. Or is it too hard for you?!”

Dick grimaced. He hated himself at the moment. For both losing his cool, especially in front of someone who could hold it against him and for missing on precious time since every second counted.

“Y/N. Think about Y/N.” he muttered to himself “She needs your help. Now more than ever.”

He took a few deep breaths, calming down the storm inside him to the point where he was actually in control and capable of turning the fear and concern into anger.

If anyone touched his Y/N….

“You back?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m back.” He opened his eyes, completely focused, eyes sharp, instincts on high alert. “Tell me who’s the fucker who dared to take her.”

“Black Mask.”

“Fucker.” The word left Dick’s lips without the involvement of his brain. That was how much he loved her. The golden boy, teasing, joking and playful nightwing turned into a machine, swearing and ready to freaking kill, almost Red Hood like.

“So? Ready to kick some asses?”

“After you.” The predatory smirk blooming on his face was a sign of incoming violence and spilling blood.

***

Her screams mixed with the ones coming from the corridor in a beautiful, gory cacophony of sounds. An ode painted with blood and pain. Maybe that was why for a longer moment no one in the room actually paid attention nor was willing to try and differentiate the sources of notes in the song.

 Or maybe it was the fact that the goons’ cries were extremely high-pitched, almost reaching the same key as the yelling of a woman trapped in the torture machine, losing strength with every passing second.

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Black Mask laughed cruelly “you don’t get to pass out on me yet. Info first.” The iron grip on her wrist tightened even more, as if that was even possible, cutting into skin and muscle, amplifying the blood loss.

For the last whatever-time-passed she was kept on the edge of consciousness as if Black Mask was hoping that choking, hurting and injecting with some substance would cause her to lose inhibitions and finally blurt out the information he was so dead set on getting.

Who is Nightwing.

Who is Batman.

Any piece of information would turn out to be useful, but since the beginning of the questioning it became painfully clear that that stupid girl was either too weak or too strong to answer.

Too weak because it seemed that even the slightest amount of pain made her repeatedly pass out and too strong because on those intermittent periods where she actually was conscious and aware of the surroundings enough to talk was the one making her extremely stubborn and uncooperative.

And Black Mask was losing his patience.

Here he was, gracing that little scum with his presence instead of submitting her to the treatment of his lower men, with less than gracious methods and she had the audacity to be bratty.

A vicious circle in which he was using the moments to get information only to be refused, beating her again and ending up with a thoughtless body, achieving nothing, over and over again.  

He should have just stuck to using his rat, skillfully planted in Gotham.  

“Fuck!” he yelled seeing as once again she went limp on the chair only because he pulled her nail. “Stupid bitch!”

“Mmmmm…” Y/N muttered and for a moment the room was completely quiet save from her little whimpering.

And then –

“OUCH!”

“FUCK!”

“RETREAT!”

“The hell?” Black Mask walked to the door and looked through the peephole. “Fuck!” Seeing his guards and men being thrown in different directions, sounds of yelling and snapping bones alongside with blood streaming on the floor was not the best view before 7 p.m. and definitely not the best without his favorite drink. Under any other circumstances he would be giving zero fucks about the violence outside the safe door, but now – he had a plan to complete and no one, fucking no one would prevent him from succeeding.

The loud sound of a door’s guard crashing with the metal surface and pictorially sliding down with crushed skull caused Sionis to quickly recalibrate his plan.

Seemed like Red Hood was in the house. And not that Sionis was scared, but-

“Hold them back!” he yelled, grabbing the limp body of Y/N and rushing towards the safety exit, to the roof where his private jet was landed just in case of emergencies.

And this was clearly an emergency.

***

The door broke about 30 seconds after Black Mask rushed to the passage.

“You carry explosives with you everywhere?” Dick muttered, equally impressed and shocked.

“What? It comes in handy and -”

“AAAAH!” Both goons rushed at the two vigilantes before Shadow could finish a sentence, but their brave loud cries quickly turned to quiet, broken sobbing as they were laid down.

“Be a sweetheart and tell me where he went?” Nightwing leaned over the goon with an almost soft smile.

“mhm…” inert waving towards the passage was enough of an answer.

“Good boy. Thanks.”

***

“NO!!” she yelled as Black Mask was dragging her through the roof. Sudden realization of all the things that could go wrong making her much more valiant and strong. As long as she was still in Gotham and not exported to another city or – god forbid – country – could result in being deemed as another missing-without-trail- person.

That is – if someone was even looking for her in the first place.

Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes at the thought that she could be so easily forgotten.

And the terror she was holding back for so long, since the moment of being dragged into that black SUV, finally found a way out…

“NIGHTWING!!!”

***

“Y/N!!”

A dead man would hear that cry and even a dead man would rise from the dead at the sheer desperation beaming from the voice.

“Y/N!!! I’m coming!”

***

“You’re becoming a trouble!” Black Mask hissed, slapping her repeatedly, drawing another stream of blood this time from the broken lip.

“I – “

“I’m so done with you. Should have just killed you the second you turned out to be of zero significance to the cause. Now come here you little bitch-“

“No!!”

She blindly started to run away, only to trip (obviously) and ending up back in Sionis’ grip.

“NO!!”

He was too strong and she was too scared and stiff to fight anymore. Digging heels into the ground did no harm and was definitely no hindrance in being pulled towards the ledge of the 10-stories building.

“NO!!!!”

“Y/N!!”

Both the girl and Sionis froze for a moment as another male voice cut into the screaming match.

But it was too late.

***

“Go!” Shadow was probably the only one who didn’t lose cold blood.  “GO!”

***

She was falling.

And it was beautiful.

Knowing that she would finally be free of all the pain, of all the heartbreak, of the guilt coming with betraying another girl by sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend. Liberated from being stuck in the memories of the past when she was actually happy, before everything went to shit.

“I love you Dick…” she whispered, finally crashing to the ground.

***

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Oh, come on, not this again!” Shadow hissed, extremely dissatisfied with the fact that everyone she encountered was far more interested in getting to know her personality, rather than fearing her killer skills.

For Black Mask it took a record time of ten minutes before calling defeat and ending up bound and being taken by the GCPD.

***

“Y/N.”

She opened one eye and much to her surprise found out that she was not a celestial body looking at her bloodied pulp of a body on the pavement.

“I love you too…” the warm embrace around her was welcomed but in time started to become a little suffocating and her battered body refused to be squeezed.

“Dickie…”

“Shh… shh, I got you.” He whispered again, caressing her hair, kissing her forehead, doing everything to assure both her and himself that it was all over and that he got her, that she was safe and he would never let it happen again. Never.

“H-How? W-what happened-? I – I thought-“

“You thought so little of me, didn’t you?”

“Idiot.”

“Hey!”

“Fucking prick! I swear if it wasn’t for this – “ she swung her injured arm in the air “I’d slap the hell out of you!”

“I saved you!”

“I almost died and you’re making jokes!”

Oh. Right. Maybe, just maybe given the circumstances it was slightly inappropriate.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. You better.” She pouted, but he knew better, wiping the unshed tears. “It’s over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“What happened?”

“I’m an acrobat, remember? I jumped. And damn, I wish someone had that on video because it was really one of my best – Ouch! Ouch! Ok, ok! Stop it! Point taken!”

***

“How are we doing here?”

Once Sionis was seated in the back of a police car, hands were shaken and words of gratitude exchanged Shadow walked towards Dick and Y/n.

“I think she’ll live.” Dick teased with a smirk, predictably moving a safe distance away from his -- .

Right.

Maybe there was no happy ending after all with that messed up relationship thing hanging over their heads like a freaking axe.

“Can’t say the same about Nightwing though” Y/N pushed the thought away, settling on sending him a death stare for making fun of her again.

“Good. I’m glad.”

“I think you made up for whatever crime you were trying to redeem, Shadow. Thank you. I owe you. You saved my –“

“Girlfriend?” Shadow prompted, looking between Y/N and Dick, making them both blush in a bit of embarrassment.

“It’s complicated-“ they both said at the same time.

“Oh, trust me, it’s not complicated at all!” Shadow laughed

“What do you mean? You don’t know-“

“I know more than you think. Haven’t I proved that already?” Shadow turned around, making sure no one was watching and slowly took of her mask.

***

Fast forward. One week later.

Y/N was walking out of the hospital. It seemed like her arm was healing nicely and there were no complications, though her doctor was very stern while telling her she was supposed to rest and not get herself involved in any form of physical activity.

If he only knew that she was in a relationship with Gotham’s and Bludhaven vigilante.

“Y/N!”

Speaking of which, said vigilante was now honking at her from his Porsche.

“Showoff!”

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!

She laughed and jumped inside the vehicle.

“You’re supposed to hold the doors open for me!”

“Mh. Missed you too, sunshine.” He leaned over the gearbox kissing her with a cheeky grin. “How’s the hand?”

“She’ll live.”

“Quoting me already, princess? Careful, I might think you consider me a superstar or something.”

“Idiot!”

“Ouch! You’re hurting me. But I’m willing to forgive you, giving the circumstances of late.”

He started the engine and took the way to the city.

“Yeah. Crazy, right?” her head fell onto the car’s headrest and she sighed heavily. “I mean – who would have thought…”

***

Flashback

“S-Sienna!?”

“Hey you two.”

“h-hey? What do you mean “hey”?! What is this?! Some sick joke?!”

In her stupor Y/N missed the fact that Dick was as shocked (if not more) as her. Hence it couldn’t have been any conspiracy against Y/N’s mental health.

“Whoa! Whoa! Relax!” Shadow Sienna raised her hands in surrender “Dick-“

“The hell?! How do you know? Damn it-!” he forgot about all the rules of safety and tore off his mask. Getting to the bottom of this shit was far more important.

“- I meant what I said. Really! About that redemption arc! Just – just listen to me!”

“Five minutes.”

“It was all a scheme-“

“Well let me tell you, your explanation is starting off the wrong foot” Dick groaned, pulling Y/N to his side to strengthen her mentally.

“I am Black Mask’s niece in the second line!” Sienna explained dramatically “wait-! Wait-! I have no loyalty to him! Not anymore!”

“One minute left.” Dick hissed

“It was all a plan. He had some vague idea about the ties between the one Dick Grayson and Batman and Y/N and wanted to use all of you against each other.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Yes, fine! I was his spy for a moment, but then you two-. God! You love each other! And I just couldn’t- I couldn’t-“

Y/N wriggled out of Dick’s embrace and walked to Sienna, grabbing both her hands in her healthy one.

“Thank you.”

End of flashback

***

 “I really hope you took your golden visa with you, cause I am about to go crazy with this shopping spree.”

“Hey. No limits on Bruce’s cards. He won’t even notice the loss of a couple thousands and I got my girl back, so-“

“I think we should send-“

“I already took care of that.”

After all the trouble and drama they got their happy ending.

***

In another part of town a certain girl found a fruit and sweet basket on her doorstep. With a little, but meaningful card.

It seemed like she found her happy ending too.

One in which she was no longer used by anyone and treated as a villain.

With the view for a future of freedom.

@miraculous-panic @fullbelieverheart @xlatinaaxx @ietss @arfrona

@gracescor3 @jaysgirlx @fuzzym4m4 @peachmartini @xenop0p @madness1999sworld

@leovergurl

[princesserica84]

Howdy, let me start off with no hate for you just here trying to help clear up a few things it seems from your post you dont know which is normal since you no a US citizen. again just trying to help you understand not an attack just trying help. 1 on the whole nazi wave https://www.tumblr.com/busterballsblog/773398848248987648?source=share also post is not the full clip here https://youtu.be/5e5Dz2EvuOY?si=NPvB0sq5Qjk2NHDK these should help you better see the whole story and facts. 2 UK, CA, GR,FR all have hate speech as a legal thing in the USA its already been ruled by highest court and even liberal judges agreed no such thing as hate speech in this USA. where each of the nations i listed have jailed people based on their words some where even jokes on stage. but in USA we have the right to say anything but a DIRECT call to action. but just as we each have the right of free speech means all sides have a voice to say as they wish. something that very different our rights listed out in black and white cant be taken away by government for any reason where yours and UK, FR and GR can and have been in name of "Greater Good". in USA its about the 1 not the Greater Good when it comes to rights. 3 on whole trans topic here the the issue its illegal to force someone to talk a set way in the usa. just as your name is Erica you cant force people to call you that they can say HEY YOU or they can call you E all they want and no law is broken in the USA. next part of this is wanting tax payers to fund trans medical issues that are not life threatening is not our way not because they trans but because they have no right to my money. also their proof this has been forced on kids ie people under 18 which is in fact grounds to remove and sue a teacher for forcing their views on kids at school. 4 you clearly listen to USA media well do you know that ABC , NBC, CNN , MSNBC all paid out 100s of millions of dollars in just 3 lawsuits for openly lied about the story and people in it. ABC even had pay Trump 15 million for a lie they told about Trump. so frankly trusting them is not really an option even for liberals have had to admit they wrong. 5 you bring up removing of rights https://www.archives.gov/founding-docs/bill-of-rights-transcript please take a look at our rights and can you link abortions to any right you see listed. ( i am assuming this is right you talking about due to your words. mind you while your looking at our rights look at 2A and then notice how liberals seek to remove rights on guns. i use this as example of how the very view that the right seeks to take away rights is not based in any logic and in fact the left is seeking to remove a right openly. again i hope this helps you understand our system in a fair and balanced way. btw i been from quebec to toronto i will say being that im Texan i understand qubec people the best in CA i have a number of pals up their and yea. to give you idea why people like me love your snow is my city just got 3 inches of snow that all the snow we gotten since 2018 and my summers are 110 F or in the 40s C in the shade with 100% humidity. anyway hope this helps you understand better again no hate just trying to help and i will leave you with how Texans see the rest of north America LOL hope you enjoy the fun joke again no hate just trying help you smile. and if you have any question here or DM me is fine just trying share some help.

^^ I give you, the American education system

Look, I disagree with everything you are saying.

If you want to talk about taking rights away, I'll give you this. A lot of pregnant women have died recently because the hospitals are not able to perform abortions. Today, there was a school shooting in Nashville that killed a 17 year old and injured another. If abortions were legal, and you have gun laws in place that weren't written in the 17th century, many people would still be alive. This isn't opinion, this is fact.

Deaths in Canada caused by guns in 2023: less than 300

Deaths in USA caused by guns in 2023: over 43,000

There's honestly too much wrong with your entire message. I don't think I'm the right person to respond so I will leave it to everyone else.

Also, just so you are aware, your "map" did not make me laugh. It offends me. Canada is my home and I would much rather live here (with free healthcare, gun laws that weren't written over 200 years ago, the right for me to make a decision on my own body, and a place where my transgender friends are free to be who they are) than live in fucking texas.

[in1-nutshell]

And oh god the reveal.  Maybe Magneto finally got his dates and order and realized “oh shit, that's my kid”.  Maybe Ultra magnus sent a email which sent the entire us government into a panic because how the fuck did this escape notice.  What if when Magneto figured it out he tried to talk to them.  He calls them by their birth name, not the name the government gave them to protect them, or the name their robot family gave them, the name he gave them.  “I go by Fearless now, Eric” (man imagine getting disowned by your own kid).  As far as the X-men are concerned, their favorite telenovela just got better.  As for the lost light, oh boy get ready for headcanons.  Running on the idea that Cybertronians are an asexual species, their whole family units are created through adoption.  To create that bond with someone is a very important and almost sacred choice.  To abandon a child you chose to take in for a selfish reason is borderline unheard of.  Even with IDW Ophelia, Megs left her behind originally to protect her, shitty yes, but still an action born out of the desire to keep her safe, still lining up with the importance of these bonds to cybertronians.  Needless to say, the general opinion of magento went from “eh, whatever, we have megatron on board.” to “fuck this one guy in particular”

Once I get enough energy and patience, I will write a longer piece on this AU.

Hope you enjoy!

AU: Magneto is Fearless's Dad (part 2)

SFW, Angst, Familial, Platonic, Mention of X Men 97, Human reader

MTMTE/ XMEN 97

It had been a couple of days since Fearless’s failed assassination attempt and there were still no leads.

A couple of villains were called into question, even some government officials, but nothing solid.

But that wasn’t the most important thing.

The Fearless and Magneto beef was still raging on strong.

Finally at 1 in the morning, Magneto realizes why Fearless looked so familiar.

He had known their mother… they looked like…

…

Like the child he left behind all those years ago...

…

…

…Oh, this made too much sense it hurt.

The Brick of Parenthood had finally found its target.

He always thought that they would have led a normal life on Earth, not galivanting through space with giant alien robots, one which was a genocidal ex warlord.

Take it for his kid to do something strange and reckless.

Seeing the little kid he knew now all grown up sent a pang of guilt through his chest.

Then came a thought... arguably a terrible idea.

Talking to them.

There was without a doubt in Magneto’s mind that they knew who he was, it explained in the pained look they gave him at times.

He needed to talk to them, now.

Fearless was happily talking with Morph when he came, asking to talk to them in private.

They don’t like the look the older man is giving them.

It looked like pity and… pain?

They warily agree.

The pair makes their way into a room in the mansion. Fearless crosses their arms. Fearless: “So, what did you want to talk about?” Magneto: “… It has been a long time since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?” Fearless stiffened. Fearless: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Magento: “I did not raise a liar.” Fearless’s eyes widened and unconsciously takes a step back. Magneto: “My little Lionheart… it has been a long time.” The name brought flashbacks of a little kid reaching out for a hug to their tall father. They shake their head. Fearless: “I go by Fearless, Eric. That is the name I go by now, the one MY Family gave me. I expect you to at least have the decency to respect that.” Magneto: “… Fine then… Fearless.” Fearless huffs as they tighten their arms around themselves. Fearless: “Was this what you wanted to talk about? Because if it is your wasting your time and mine.” They turn to open the door behind them, but the metal locks lock themselves. Fearless: “…Unlock the doors Magneto.” Magneto: “Not until we talk.” Fearless: “What is there to talk about?” Fearless tries opening the door with no luck. Magneto: “It has been years since I’ve last seen you child.” Fearless: “And who’s fault was that, Eric. Now if you can be so kind as to open the door—” Magneto: “You didn’t have the X gene Fearless. Your birth stood against so many things I stood against at the time. I had to leave you. You must understand that.” Fearless: “I don’t have to understand Jack Magneto! Now let me out!” Fearless tries furiously to open the doors now, only for some metal sheets to block the door. Fearless: “Eric! Open the doors now!” Magneto steps forward as Fearless tries prying the metal themselves. Magneto: “You are going to hurt yourself like that.” Fearless continues to trying to pry the metal with their bare hands. Magneto: “You have to understand that when I left you—” Fearless: “UNDERSTAND WHAT!? That I wasn’t the perfect baby you wanted! That I didn’t fit in your ideal world?! Save me the speech Eric I know! I’VE KNOWN THAT SINCE THE DAY I FOUND OUT WHO EXACTLY MY FATHER WAS!” Tears were streaming down their face, but they stood tall with their fist clenched. A heavy silence filled the room. Fearless: “If you have any ounce of any respect or basic decency… let me go.” Magneto wordlessly let the metal sheets fall to the ground. Fearless wastes no time in bursting out of the room. Magneto sighs sadly from inside the room. Meanwhile in the room next door. Logan and Morph were trying to watch a movie when they overheard the conversation through the wall. Logan and Morph: “…” Morph: “…That was unexpected.” Logan: “…You owe me a 12 pack and 20 buck’s bub.” Morph: “Oh C’mon!”

And apparently those two weren’t the only ones who overheard.

Jean had seen a distraught Fearless running outside and decided to gently look inside their mind to see what could have possibly upset them.

…

It did not take long there after for the rest of the X men to find out about the new family drama.

There was a lot of talk between the team about Fearless and Magneto, but they never guessed something like this.

So many questions yet to be answered!

The drama!

The Angst!

Some members are kind of glad a plot twist happened in their new telenovela, but at the same time are sympathetic to the whole ‘messed up family bloodlines thing’.

Fearless was walking around having calmed down. They spot Magneto exiting the room and walking to their direction. This was at the same time Kurt and Rouge just so happen to be walking by. The pair walked a bit faster to get to Fearless’s side. Kurt: “Fearlezz!” Fearless jumped at the sudden noise but calmed down seeing the blue mutant. Fearless: “Primus Kurt, don’t scare me like that.” Kurt: “Zorry!” Rouge gently placed a hand on their back, guiding them to another direction. Rouge: “There’s a cool thing the boys wanted ta show ya.” Fearless: “Now? I mean sure! Cool, cool, cool.”

The real question now about the bots.

Did THEY know about this?

Only one way to find out!

Morph is sitting by Whirl in his holoform. Morph: “Has Fearless every talked about their family, like before going to space?” Whirl: “Not really. They don’t talk too much on all the Earthy stuff.” He raises an eyebrow. Whirl: “Why you want some information on them?” Morph: “Well, its more like we’ve just gotten some new information on them.” Whirl: “Like what?” Morph: “… Logan won the bet.” Whirl: “Which ones Logan again? Wait is he the gruffy one with the claws that thinks I know some guy name Deadpool?” Morph: “That’s him.” Whirl: “Oh okay then. Wait what did he bet on again? Hang on a second.” Whirl pulls out a list of the bets and goes down before stopping at Logan’s bet. Whirl slowly looks at Morph. Morph: “Turns out Fearless’s dad is Magento.” Whirl: “… Excuse me but WHAT THE—” Magnus, in his holoform, comes in. Magnus: “Whirl! What have we talked about that language!” Whirl: “MAGNETO IS FEARLESS’S EARTH DAD!” Magnus: “WHAT!?” Morph: “I feel like I made a mistake…”

News about Magento being Fearless’s biological father spreads amongst the bots like wildfire.

They go to the X men about more details about this.

They would have asked Fearless… but these past few days the resident human looked ready to drop dead and sob on the spot.

The Lost Light crew is absolutely furious hearing the implication of Magneto Abandoning Fearless at a young age.

It is explained to the mutants about the significant values chosen family had amongst Cybertronian’s.

To abandon one’s sparkling/ youngling/ or mentee at such a tender age was simply unheard of.

The bots and X men hear some yelling from a far. It was Fearless yelling at Magneto to leave them alone. Megatron is the first to move. The Earth shakes as the Ex Warlord now looms over Fearless, casting a long shadow over Magneto. Fearless looks surprised to see the mech. Fearless: “Megatron? What are you doing here in bot mode? Did something happen with your holoform—EEP!” Megatron scoops Fearless up with one servo and holds them firmly to his chassis. He sported a harsh glare at the man on the ground. Megatron: “When my child says to leave them alone. You. Leave. Them. Alone.” Cue gasps from X men in the background. The twists keep getting better and better. Fearless is still very confused. Magneto: “Your child?” Rodimus: “That’s right! His kid. A member of our crew and family.” The other bots soon start lining behind or beside Megatron. Megatron: “Do not let me catch you disrespecting their space again.” With that the bots turn to go to their ship. Megatron looks down to see Fearless trying to stifle a sob. He gently rubs a digit up and down their back. They began to shake like a leaf and curled even smaller against his servo. Megatron: “There, there… I’ve got you… I’ve got you… Your safe now Fearless… Your safe…”

The bots and Fearless were going to need a day to process this before returning back to the big problems at hand.

Especially Fearless…

[rakhalofthestars]

Scent

Chapter 2 of my mini-series Stimuli!

Summary: If the cyborg cowboy that you knew and loved so well was turned into a perfume, what notes would you find?

Tags: Fluff, Bittersweet, Gender neutral reader, Established relationship, light banter

wc: 882

If you were to siphon out the very essence of what made Boothill…well, Boothill and turned it into a fragrance, what notes do you reckon would be found?

It was a question that you often found yourself pondering late at night when the man’s insomnia would get the better of him and you’d stay up to keep him company. When you first spoke the question out loud, you received a soft and tired chuckle from him, smelling the bittersweet aroma of the Marlboro he had between his lips. 

“Darlin’, I think yer gettin’ a bit too balmy fer my likin’. I reckon you oughta hit the hay now. I’ll be fine stayin’ awake by mahself,” Boothill remarked with a visible amount of amusement in his tone, tapping ash off the burning stick onto the ashtray beside him.

“I’m not that sleepy. It’s a perfectly valid question. You just lack joy and whimsy,” you had quipped, a subtle furrow between your brows. 

“Ain’t much to be joyful an’ whimsical about in mah life.” “What am I, then? Your next door neighbour?” “You’re too good f’me, that’s what ya are.” And that was the end of that line of conversation, at least verbally. You, however, continued to mull it over, going as far as to bury your face as much as you could in the crook of Boothill’s neck without the hard metal digging against your jawbone and breathing in deeply. What was it that made Boothill who he was? What was it that allowed you to recognize the cowboy with just your nose before any of your other senses registered his presence?

Perhaps, you reason, it’s the scent of metal, first and foremost. With your nose against the juncture where brown skin met black metal, you could easily pick up the metallic scent one tends to associate with such materials. That’s not all, however. Concentrating with all your might, there were also faint traces of the polish Boothill would use to continue gleaming like silver. The scent was often stronger when he had just done maintenance on his body, either by himself or with your help. But it still lingered along with notes of something rotten in the oil that kept his joints lubricated and from squeaking like a neglected door hinge. Scents that indicated that the cowboy you spent countless days showering in love, was not quite human. Not anymore at least.

“Lan above, what’re you? A bloodhound? Quit sniffin’ like yer hankerin’ fer some snow.”

“I’m doing valuable research.” “Like hell ya are. That buff lookin’ haughty grape that we met in Penacony would’a keeled over hearin’ yer words.” “Just be a good boy and stop distracting me.” “Don’t use that deep magic against me.” “Your ears are blushing.”

“Bullshirt”, followed by a brief yet lingering kiss.

Maybe if you wound back the clock to a time long before either of you had met, before Boothill was even Boothill, he used to smell like the grassy plains where he had spent hours running about with his siblings. Perhaps, the young boy of yore used to smell like the horses he rode and the sheep that his family would tame. You imagined a youthful, more carefree, version of the cowboy entering his home and being nagged by his ma to take a shower for he smelled like the clear creeks where he would swim like an otter. For all you knew, the boy might’ve gone to sleep smelling like the steamed vegetables and warm glass of milk he had for dinner.

Despite the cruelties inflicted on Boothill by the heartless hands of fate, he was born a human and nothing could take that away. Therefore, you could sense more than just the harsh notes of metal and oil when in his presence. You could smell all that made him human. 

After every successful, or even unsuccessful, mission, you could smell the peaty notes of Asdana’s White Oak on his breath, sometimes being heavier than usual if he was hit with a particularly bad case of the blue devils. The smoky and acrid aroma of spent gunpowder would hang heavy on him along with subtle hints of a liquid copper from enemies that had gotten too close for their own good. 

The slower and peaceful days, which tended to be filled with quiet domesticity, smelled warm and spicy, you had noticed. Undoubtedly, it must come from the aftershave Boothill would use or maybe from his leather clothes after you had the chance to put them in the wash.  “If I didn’t know any better, sugar, I would’a said you look like a pervert sniffin’ some poor soul’s britches.”

“Please never say that ever again.”

“Then get yer nose outta mah jacket, lovely.”

At the end of the day, there were countless aspects to Boothill that made him, him. So, to return to the question of what kind of fragrance he’d be, the answer would be an ever-changing one. It all comes down to the situation. But one characteristic that would remain as a constant in the notes of a hypothetical perfume that represented the cowboy, it’d be that the scent would remind one of home. Of a home long gone and a home that exists not as a place but as a person.

[lukyan-james-barnes]

Lukyan paused mid-step, his fingers tightening briefly around his keys before he turned back to face her. The sharp edge of her words had clearly struck something, but his expression was unreadable—somewhere between frustration and a flicker of understanding.

“You think this is what I signed up for?” he asked, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. “Walking around downtown at 2 AM, playing watchdog for someone who clearly doesn’t want it? Trust me, I’ve got no illusions about how this looks, or how little you think you need anyone.”

He let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “But I’m here because…” He hesitated, his steel-blue eyes locking onto hers for a moment before he sighed, the fight draining out of him. “I’m here because I know what it’s like to think you don’t need anyone until it’s too late.”

Her softened tone seemed to catch him off guard, and for the first time that night, his demeanor shifted—less defiant, more introspective. “And yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe I should’ve joined the military or something. Would’ve been easier to follow orders and not care so damn much about people who don’t ask for it.”

He studied her for a long moment, his voice quieter now. “Look, I don’t expect you to take it, okay? The lectures, the backup, or whatever the hell this is. But I’m not here to make your life harder, Serena. You wanna call me out on my crap? Fine. I probably deserve it. But you don’t get to push me away and act like it’s all on me.”

Gives her braid a solid tug from the back as she's wandering down someway in the middle of the night, mentally face palming at her guts to be coming downtown at what...2 AM?

Snickers, towering behind her, scratching my nape with my keys.

"Such a genius and yet, here. You could be better at home than here."

Gestures down with my eyes to the land step she was about to trip over.

"I don't think humans are a relevant threat to you from the looks of it, but there are rabid dogs down that way you're going. And...you can't exactly pepper spray them."

"Why're you even here at this time?"

Spinning keys, furrowing brows down at her.

She let out a soft ‘gah’ as she stumbled. Spinning around to see Lukyan standing right behind her, she rolls her eyes a bit. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she raises an eyebrow at him.

“First of all, don’t touch my braid. Second of all, my tech would protect me against the dogs. I just... needed some fresh air."

@lukyan-james-barnes

[charlesanthonybruno]

okay, i need to rant, i’m sorry. i just came home from archery practice and the Coach was here, the guy who technically coaches the entire club but we’re not in the same town so we mostly do our own thing on our own. anyway, he’s there and watches us shoot and at some point pauses the practice to make a speech abput how, given the time of year, we should all be improving our practice, training anytime we can, exercise to build our strength and such. If you work all week, exercice in the bathroom in the morning! go to the gym in the evening! and i was like, wtf mate. i tuned him out and kept doing my thing once he was done. after a while he started telling me that was posture was bad and i needed to, like, idk, retrobend?? which was fun because he doesn’t that my lower back is fucked and is Like That and tucking my pelvis in makes me unstable, and i was like mate i’m just here to have fun all right, and he goes you could have fun better, which sent me in a RAGE. Like. Buddy. For real. What part of having fun did you not get. I am not here to perform, i am not here to be good, i am here to let off steam, have a laugh with the team, and shoot things. I AM NOT HERE TO THINK, AT ANY POINT, « i need to do better ». Fucking hell, i have a full time job, a house and a cat to take care of, this is my break, this is my no thinking time!!! THE RAGE, I SWEAR. When did everything become a fucking contest?? Why are we not allowed to have some goddamn fun with no expectation of results??? I was less than polite with and did not even feel bad about it because CHRIST, can we not just do things for the fun of it anymore??? fucking hell.

[kirby-the-gorb]

[la-galaxie-langblr]

what is going on w my brain

[jichanxo]

sooooo... *twirls her hair* how many asks should i send until kuwagami art. jk as well. the real question will be: does it happen often that someone else’s art inspires you? in fandom spaces specifically

well you see it’s like a loyalty card program, every 10 asks or so you get a complimentary kuwagami

just kidding you can just breathe in my direction and I’ll be tempted to draw them. kuwagami blast! (you've caught me on a... just okay art day lol)

(people still like kabedons, right?)

anyway for my actual answer: in terms of direct inspiration, it doesn't really happen much? the last two times i did art directly based on someone else's work is probably this one from this fic, and also that time i drew art of someone else's judgment au. oh! and there's that moriohpsycho art based on this comic! (filthyguts' work is so very. hgngngghh. very good.) nothing else really comes to mind, and when i think of the other things i've been into recently there hasn't been as much opportunity for that to happen...

flex and herds = strong fixation but lmao. almost nobody else made stuff about them. nobody is surprised umineko = surprisingly i don't read much umineko fanfiction? and in terms of illustration, i certainly picked up imagery and indirect inspiration but nothing concrete enough for me to give an example... now that i think about it, i did once draw andromalius from redaction/sunny, but that was years ago, and also mostly because i was acquainted with the writer. ...i don't have that artwork on hand right now death note = didn't really get involved with the fandom + i enjoyed my own ideas well enough! ...i can't recall if i drew long-hair-L art before or after seeing other artists do it. and as for everything else the same kind of reasoning applies. didn't really get involved with the fandom or wasn't really compelled to make art in response to stuff i saw, or i just don't remember anymore.

buuuuuuut if we're opening this up to just... pulling ideas from other people? then yeah, all the time, though that kind of goes without saying when you have a creative hobby. ...it's probably going to be hard to come up with examples of this since it's more ambiguous.

there's uhhhhhh... kuwana listens to nickelback which was a @/four-white-trees invention, wasn't it? (EDIT: and @/overdevelopedglasses!) (not tagging in this post so he doesn't feel obligated to read my big ass ask responses 💀) as of writing this, it's not posted but i did end up making kuwagami art based on a nickelback song so. yknow. there's that LMAO

for sawashiro and arakawa, i do sometimes go reference @/todayisafridaynight 's art to help me with my own. ("how did he draw this part of the suit? oh, like that huh? hmm" <- this kind of thing)

and um. i'm not trying to pander to you (at least not this time), but genuinely it's one of the few examples that come to mind at this moment. but when i was writing my first kuwagami fic, i could feel the influence of the ever-changing on my brain... was turning over some of your ideas there...

you remember this? (you even pointed it out in your comment on my fic, and i should've said something then, but whatever i'm saying it now)

that was absolutely because of this

(obligatory poke at anybody else reading this post that you can read passthroughtime's fic here.)

so, um. yeah. not really sure what else to add to that. pretty self evident i think. (i'm always talking about the ever-changing but i don't think i can overstate the impression it left on me at the time)

anyhow there aren't really any other examples off the top of my head! these are all recent examples so they're not so difficult to recall, but there are probably others i've forgotten...

[downsteepy]

i am very grateful that im not someone that has to deal with daily seizures but it is evil when it takes like a week and a half's worth of business days to recover from a seizure