#(adrenaline and anger through the roof)

[moonshynecybin]

thinking about forced coming out au… you two were so smart for that honestly

THANK U today i am thinking about them in the current motogp climate.... with marc goin against pecco post-arm nightmare and vale kinda having to juggle that. cuz i DO think in this universe that theyve done a lot of work to present themselves as a unit and subsume their egos/accomplishments into one another by this point (in this universe theyve been together EIGHT YEARS.... PUBLICLY... so its very if i win you win and vice versa etc. power couple.), BUT theres a very sort of. direct temptation for vale here wrt to a protege stepping to marc like this. and the desire to see marc succeed (and come back from injury.... which truly i think that entire period with marc miserable and in the hospital and then the diplopia re-occurrence scared him SO bad. and marc is finally smiling again, but a BIG part of vale would be at peace if he never saw him swing a leg over a motorcycle again. now will he tell him this. NO. marc owuld not listen lmao) IS kinda warring with seeing marc do crimes against his little babies. all that anxiety about safety multiplied on both sides of the equation. and the press is asking for his take about their battles eighteen times a day cuz hes skulking around the paddock haunting marc's every step like some sort of victorian ghost. so hes maybe a lil tense a lil distant... still there to blow marc's back out but hes working through some valentino-style marc neuroses as he often is, so its. odd. not a rough patch, but vale likes having a hand on the scale and anywhere he places it now feels like a bit of a betrayal so its COMPLEX...

and then with MARC. lmao. like okay pecco and marc WOULD know each other a lot better here just like ranch-wise, but is marc letting literally anyone get in the way of a championship bid ever NOOOOOOOO. and suddenly pecco (used to the somewhat friendly criminal shenanigans of the ranch) has marc divebombing him off the line every weekend in a grand prix for realsies and is like AHHHHHHHH and then they climb off of their bikes in parc ferme and marc is like hi :) and then lopes over to pecco's section to high five gigi and smooch vale

[gothicminxx]

Sylus x Fem! Reader

CW: Mention of injury and blood, yandere Sylus, slight cameo from Xavier, no use of Y/N, Sylus calls you doll.

In honor of Sylus being released I couldn’t help but write about his man. Kicking my feet, giggling, and blushing.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

He patiently stood on a janky roof with rotting wood. The stench of mold wafting in his nostrils and the pouring rain only amplified the unpleasant aroma. Thick evergreen trees concealed his looming figure, a perfect spot to watch through the eyes of his raven that perched on its own tree a few miles west. Calmly the bird observes a figure that has since piqued his interest in every lifetime. A peculiar soul that has only ever belonged to you. Though a rare and delicate rose like yourself intrigued three others. Tragically, you were not his alone.

Unbeknownst to you, he watched you often through various objects. A curious raven or strange crimson robotic eye in the sky— those times he had gotten careless, you caught him on occasion, not that you knew what the object was. He could not help it, you simply intrigued him. The vain of his existence being in every lifetime you would interest him. Such a pity.

Shamelessly his raven watched as you stood deep in the forest. Your jeans were dirty from mud splattering on the material, your leather boots were caked with a mixture of mud and grass, and your clothes clung to your body— soaked to the bone in pouring rain. But the weather conditions appeared to have little effect on you as you continued to run through the muddy terrain. Your eyes stared intently at your hunters watch, Sylus could only assume you were after a wanderer, “What a persistent little thing.” He chuckled to himself.

You were stubborn and oftentimes a bit too arrogant for your own good, especially when it came to combat. You refused to follow orders, going into the forest alone in search of a wanderer far out of your caliber. But your partner was nowhere to be found— you were never the type to wait around. Even if the task at hand was presented as dangerous, in the name of justice you sought to protect. “Such arrogance.” Sylus hummed, observing as you puffed your chest, and bared your teeth like some sort of wild animal to a wanderer triple your size.

Besides being arrogant, Sylus would also describe you as being reckless. When your adrenaline levels were high you barely thought with a coherent brain. This got you into trouble more than not.

With an overconfident stride you lunged forward with your sword, slicing the wanderer enough to earn a shrill shriek of pain and fury. A cocky smirk appears on your features as your sword is struck in its skin, piercing at its flesh. The wanderer growls in response, clearly growing agitated with the injuries it sustains from the blade of your sword. You were a fierce warrior, Sylus would commend you for that. But he knew the rating class of the wanderer in battle with you currently.

The wounds on the wanderer began to heal, its anger towards you palpable, and yet you refused to surrender as you raised your sword once more. Before you could strike, its massive foot made contact with your body, a yelp escaped your lips as its claws penetrated the flesh of your thigh. Within seconds the wanderer flung you in the air causing you to crash against a tree. You gasped for air as oxygen was deprived from your lungs, eyes wide in fear, and a hand reaching out as if to claw at the tree— practically begging for a savior.

Sylus prepared himself to intervene— this had gone too far. But when his crow squawked, he halted from rushing to the scene. A flash of pure radiant white light caught his attention. The beam was blinding that it almost resembled the welcoming embrace of an angel— utterly captivating.

Flashes of colors from the rainbow soon intertwined with the white beam creating a beautiful show of light. Sylus could hear the wanderer screeching a haunting melody within the wall of colors, meeting its demise, he could only assume.

Seconds passed and the noise dissipated into the unknown, alongside the glittering rays of color. The crow titled its head curiously to a tuft of white fluffy hair kneeled beside your body, concern evident on his face.

He wore a classic hunters uniform. Perhaps he was the missing partner that got you into this predicament. His azure eyes studied his surroundings for a moment to assess any present danger. When he found none, he tended to you. He carefully aided you back on your feet, holding your chin in his gloved hand to examine your face, “Are you okay?” His gentle voice asked.

Still bewildered from the previous battle you blinked a couple of times, slowly nodding your head as if processing his question. There was an aura of familiarity between the both of you. You allowed him to touch your skin to check for further injury. He was tender with you, as if you were a fragile porcelain doll that could break if touched wrong. Sylus could only grimace at the interaction, balling a scornful fist. The man was one of the three, Sylus knew this to be fact, he’d seen an exchange with the two of you before. Though, this one was much different than the last time. He no longer appeared to be a stranger to you.

The milky haired man frowned, placing a wet strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture felt over protective and affectionate, “It’s too dangerous for you to be out here alone.”

Sylus took note of the sparkle in your eye when you looked at him, the demure smile that flashed across your lips at his concern, and slight nuzzle against his palm. He was as important to you, as you were for him. There was a twinge of jealousy that tightened his chest, he should be the one touching your skin. He had to remind himself that the time would soon come. Sylus meticulously crafted a plan to insert himself into your life.

“You never showed, I couldn’t just wait.” You shrugged nonchalantly, it was almost comical to Sylus. You were near death’s doorstep for a moment, and acted as though it was merely another day in the office.

“I was trying to assess the danger myself,” The man sighed, “You could have been killed.”

“I’m okay, Xavier.”

It was evident you were far from okay. Traces of blood scattered your cheek due to small scratches from the tree. There were lacerations on your thigh from the wanderers' sharp claws, deep crimson blood now stained your damp pants. Xavier scowled, “You’re bleeding.”

Before you could retort, Xavier picked you up, “Let’s get you somewhere warm and cleaned up.”

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺

Sylus sat on a plush leather couch, his fingers tapping impatiently on his lap. The time is finally here, the lamb has entered the lion's den. Naively you drank his offering even if you were warned of possible dangers— your ego was still intact. Your persistence to find answers was admirable to him, but in the end it would come with a price.

A knock rang on the cherry wooden door before opening, “The prey has been caught, sir.” His assistant informed with a bow.

He smirked, finishing off his whiskey, and sauntering toward your location. The black liquid you drank earlier, was spiked with sleeping pills to make it easier for them to capture you. He couldn’t take any risks, you were a fighter afterall.

Sylus reached a large metal door with two of his men guarding the entrance. They gave him a nod as the door opened. He walked inside, noticing your body sat on an uncomfortable metal chair, your hands and legs were bound to it. You appeared to be groggy as your eyes wandered around the room— clearly confused by your new surroundings. “Ah, you’re awake.” Sylus stated.

His baritone voice caught your attention as your body stiffened the closer he got to you. Sylus could sense the immediate tension, your jaw clenching not going unnoticed by him, “Who are you?” You asked, your voice going up an octave as if you were preparing to shout at him.

He walked circles around you, practically sizing you up. In this moment you looked like a helpless little doll, which was different compared to the fierce and reckless warrior he knew you as. “Sylus.” He responded simply.

Sylus kneeled in front of you, his crimson eyes studying your every feature. You were much more beautiful than he anticipated, he was used to seeing you from afar that this level of proximity made his heart hammer in his chest. He understood the decades of intrigue from the three others and his own. A true enchantress that drove him mad with obsession. “Why am I here?” You snarled.

Your tone made him chuckle, “As I asked before, will you become the hunter or the hunted?” He tapped against the chair, “Seems you were hunted.”

“Are you some sort of pervert?” Your voice is full of contempt.

He shook his head, “No, nothing of the sort. You see, when you enter the N109 zone, there are no rules. We made a deal, you should have listened to your friend when he told you to tread carefully.”

Sylus stood on his feet, checking his watch to appear bored of the conversation. But you fascinated him, more than you could possibly understand. Currently as you sat captured there was an aura of defiance. A man as intimidating as himself did not shake you with trepidation; it was almost— thrilling.

For a moment your eyes widened in realization of your earlier conversation with Rafayel and the drink you accepted, “I only care about receiving intel.” You scoffed.

He placed a slender finger under your chin and tilted your head up to meet his scarlet eyes. A shiver ran up your spine, the sound of your breath catching in your throat made him lean in. “You’ll receive your intel in due time.” Sylus whispered, “But you’ll play by my rules, doll.”

Now that Sylus finally obtained you again, he’d make sure it was forever. He was never good with farewell’s, this time it would be different.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:··:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*

[mx-pastelwriting]

Raison d'être

(Post-War) Cooper Howard x GN! Reader

Summary: Your marriage had been ripped apart by Vault-Tec, only to be sown back together 200 years later.

Warnings: Slight Angst, Established Relationship, Sad Reuniting, Soft Cooper, Kissing, Hugs

Heavy as your limps were walking through the dry desert powered by adrenaline born from the pain that pulsed through your arms. Having broken from the glass pod, waking from a long slumber, only guessing it was for a long time by the open vault door showing the desert land with no human life to greet you.

Finally arriving at a small, worn house, having your sights on it a mile back. Hoping no life lived behind the broken boards of wood, with slow motions made your way in, looking around for anything to use as a weapon.

Yet finding nothing, not even a piece of the wood that once held the place up. To your luck, nothing sprang with life, letting you relax under a roof after the sun's harsh rays ate away at your skin for miles. Sitting on the worn-out couch, feeling every limp break down, welcoming more pain, not being able to move taking up the time with looking about seeing empty food cans, beer bottles, and small glass vials. 

Quickly your thoughts pulled away, now fully on the noise of footsteps outside, hearing the mysterious person cruse before the door opened, only for them to quickly notice your broken existence.

Many emotions mixed on the man's face, seeing his skin looking as if it had healed from burns. Though that wasn’t what stood out the most, seeing his eyes widen with his mouth opening agape, he stepped forward allowing you to see his saddened eyes.

Feeling as if they were familiar, having memories of those pair of eyes loving, comforting, and desiring you. As quickly as the memories came, so did the eyes turn to anger, drawing their gun on you. “You’re not real,” he says through tightened teeth. Hearing the accented voice sparked familiarity in you, once again reminding you of the man’s existence.

“Coop?” You choked out, dry as your throat was the tears that welled up in your vision didn’t stop your throat watering with cries. "Coop, is that you?” Asking through cries, fighting the pain that screamed through your body in getting up from the couch.

Standing there in shock watching your attempt to get to him, lowering the aim of the gun moving in a fast motion, wrapping his arms around you. Squeezing tight, allowing choked sobs to roar out of you, the memories of that day came back, having been scared the moment you saw Cooper’s face when the vault door closed on him, having pushed you in, sacrificing himself never thinking you would be back in his warm embrace.

The same embrace you gave to him in the past, whether it had been loving or comfort from the world of his career shunned him, you stood by the man you loved. Your husband.

“I thought you-“ A sob stopped your words, but thankfully he spoke, “I came by every day, hopin’.” He whispered hand on your head, keeping you close. “I stared at the vault door till I couldn't.” He went on, only letting you in a little on the pain he went through, yet here he was alive. 

Breaking away from the tightness of the embrace looking at each other, seeing the familiar handsome eyes you fell in love with all those years ago. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he says, smiling, returning the same while looking over his new features, falling in love all over again.

“I know I ain’t the prettiest, but-“ Not letting him finish the self-doubting words with your lips, returning the kissing, Placing a hand on his scared cheek, causing his pull to tighten as if he had waited for this moment for years, living on just for you.

A/N: Let me know if ya’ll want a part two!

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @emoguardian

[spicyspiders]

Can you please do a gambit x male reader where the reader works with erik but he sneaks around with remy, it's after a misson where the xmen went and fought erik and him.

Anyways, Remy finds reader on a rooftop and it ends up leading to sex (It doesn't have to be on the roof 😭) Any kinks really :)) But i would like if you could add degrading (Gambit degrading reader) you can add anything else you see fit!!

This is a lot more angsty than I thought I would write. Warning for small depictions of injury and rough sex. There's only light degradation. I wasn't really sure how to incorporate it into this when I started writing, but I hope you still like it.

You snuck away under the shadows, holding your arm to your chest. You knew of the perfect location that’d give you enough cover to lick your wounds before The Brotherhood came looking for you. 

Another piece of your heart broke each time you had to face off against Gambit, as well as the other X-Men. The way he and the other mutants would look at you felt like a magnet trying to pull you to them. It was another reason why you needed time alone to pull yourself back together and get yourself back on the path of those you believed in. 

It was easy enough to find a building to hide away in. Sometimes, you wondered if there would be a day you would run out, but as long as the two groups fought, the destruction of their battles would show throughout the city. 

You were careful to cover your tracks and make sure you weren’t followed, but you had no way to control if another person already occupied the space. It was easy enough to scare them away, especially if they were human, but it was much more difficult if it was another mutant. 

The sigh you let out rattled your tired body when you saw Remy. He leaned against a wall, nearly covered by the darkness which surrounded him. What shone through the moonlight cast through one of the destroyed walls was his eyes, nearly black from dilation. 

He looked just as tired as you felt if his body language was anything to go by, resting all of his weight on the wall. His eyes looked tired, but upon closer inspection when he pushed himself off the wall and began walking closer, they filled with anger. 

You didn’t want to start another fight, but couldn't ignore the adrenaline that shot through your veins. It was too dark to see what Remy tossed to the ground near your feet, but you didn’t have any time to check before Remy pushed you onto the wall behind you. 

You let out a hiss of pain when he held you to the wall by your shoulders. His hands held you tight enough to stimulate the bruises from the battle you had just left. Momentarily, Remy’s eyes were full of concern, but a second later looked upon you angrily. 

“Why do you make me do this, cher?” Remy asked, as he pulled your clothes off, his voice full of anguish as more and more cuts, scrapes, and bruises revealed themselves to his eyes. 

You didn’t know the exact number, or who exactly gave them to you, but with the way Remy was looking at you, it seemed like he thought they were all because of him. 

Naked from the torso up, Remy pulled you into a fiery kiss, like he was trying to put all that he was feeling into it. “Why do you make me hurt you?” He asked when he pulled away. He runs his hands down your back, paying close attention to what spots made you gasp and hiss in pain. He looked at you with cold eyes as he pushed his fingers into the spots once he’s found them, making you wither against the wall in pain. 

“Remy,” you gasped, moaning when he put a thigh between your legs, right against your hardening cock, “please,” you said, as you both pushed at his shoulders and rolled your hips into his thigh.     

“Please?” Remy yelled, “please what? Stop? This could all stop,” he growled as he flipped you around to press your body to the rough concrete. He got to work with your pants, his fingers glowed a muted pink, like he was going to burn the clothing off. 

You felt his touch on your bare hip bones before Remy bit into the skin of your neck. His moist breath puffed against your skin as he pulled your pants down just enough that your ass was exposed to the cool night air. 

The pain on your hip bones started to fade once Remy pulled away, the crinkle of the bag Remy brought filled your ears as he riffled through it. 

“You’re an imbecile, mon cher,” Remy whispered into your ear before you heard the sound of a cap opening, “joining him,” he said as he pushed a slick finger inside, “believing in him,” he said as he pushed in another finger. 

You hissed around the intrusion. Remy wasn’t usually this rough. Sure, there were moments where you rushed to get to the main event, but Remy always made sure you were thoroughly prepared. Annoyingly so, at times, leaving you eager and impatient. 

His fingers scissored your walls, preparing your body for the cock you felt at the small of your back. You let out a moan when his fingers brushed your prostate, your cheek against the concrete. 

“Worshiping him,” Remy said, his fingers relentless as they pressed against your prostate. “That man. That–” his words fell off with an angry noise as he pulled his fingers roughly from your hole. 

“Oh!” You cried out, startled at the sudden movement, “oh,” you repeated when you then felt the head of his slicked-up cock breach your hole. 

Remy bottomed out in one steady thrust, forcing your body to adjust to the thick intrusion. Once inside, Remy slowed down and loosened up, his grip on your body going soft. He wrapped his arms around your stomach and pressed his chest flush with your back, the stubble on his jaw scratching the back of your neck. 

Remy’s lips moved as he murmured words into the back of your neck, low enough that you couldn’t hear, and soft enough that couldn’t follow the movement of his lips. Your moment of tenderness was soon over when his lips stopped, his mouth opening to instead bite into the skin he had spoken the words into. 

You clenched down around his cock at the pinprick of pain his teeth caused, the man behind you moaning at the stimulation to his cock. 

Save for his hips on your ass, Remy kept your body connected as he pulled his cock free before quickly making its way back inside. The slap of skin-on-skin echoed through the open space, as well as the sounds of pleasure that fell from both of your lips. 

The sounds grew louder when Remy moved his hands down to your hips to grip tightly onto your hips, helping him drive in harder. 

It was new for Remy to be so focused on his own pleasure. His hands usually were all over your body, mapping out the skin he has touched many times before already. Your cock hung heavy and neglected between your legs, longing for the touch of Remy’s hand. 

You held your body up with one of your hands against the wall, the other going between your legs. Already close, your body eager to finally over edge so you could rest and end such a long day, it only took a few tugs for your cock to splatter white ropes against the wall. 

Remy came with a shout, fucking his cock back inside one last time. His moans become muffled when Remy falls forward to rest his weight against your body, the sounds vibrating your skin. His body shook through the aftershocks, his moans falling through gritted teeth. 

You braced both hands on the wall when you felt Remy shift, knowing that he was about to pull out. You whimpered when he pulled his softening cock free, your throat tight. 

Remy’s hand lingered on your hip, right where the new bruises would be. You rested your forehead against the wall as Remy stepped away, trying to will away the burning you felt steadily rising behind your eyes. 

You jumped at the feel of his hands pulling up your pants. You waited for a few moments to see if he was going to help put on your shirt as well, but instead, Remy guided your body into the corner of the room that was brightest under the moonlight. 

You kept your eyes on the floor as you heard the bag crinkle once more. The bag sounded full and hefty when he sat it down beside where you sat, no doubt all stolen from Beast. 

He cleaned you as best as he could, making soft noises at the ones of pain you let out as he cleaned your cuts. Once he finally put it on, your shirt felt tacky and sticky against your upper chest where Remy had used too much ointment and not enough bandages, your body heavy with exhaustion. 

Your body fell into his arms, into the arms of your enemy. “You are stupid, mon cher,” Remy said softly, his arms tightly around your body, “for following that man,” he said, going silent as he ran his hands up and down your back, “but I love you,” he said sadly. 

Remy pulled away first, lifting one of your hands to his lips, “you have my whole heart,” he said. 

You looked up, finally meeting Remy’s eyes, wet with unhushed tears. Before he left, Remy pressed his lips softly to yours before he left the broken building. You watched his retreating back until it was gone from your sight, the card Remy left in your hand heavy as your heart felt in your chest.

[mangosrar]

call it what you want pt7.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

over the years, matt had got into many fights, countless punches thrown at people, and almost an infinite number of run ins with those who simply just pissed him off.

but it always shocked you that he was like this. chris and nick we’re such nice people. sure they had both had fights with people before, but matt was ridiculous.

and this factor was part of the reason you couldn’t stand him. you had never been in a fight before. you’d never hit or punched anyone, never even laid a harmful finger on one single person, so the earth shifted a little when you locked eyes on jessica levri, pushing, and yelling in your fake boyfreinds face, because like a hounds blood, you were drawn to it.

you weren’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline from what just happened with matt, or the pure fact that jessica levri had been on her high fucking horse far too long and she needed a rude awakening, but before you could even register what was happening, you were wedging yourself between her and matt and pushing her shoulders, sending her stumbling back.

she looked at you, scoffing like you were the most vile thing on earth.

you’re gaze on her was intense, like she was about to turn to stone any second, and your whole body was red hot with anger.

by now pretty much the whole team were stood around, waiting in anticipation. matt was behind you, chris to your left, caden to your right, and elijah stood behind jess.

you watched as she swapped her eyes from yours to matts, before smirking and opening her mouth.

“get your dog under control matty, it looks like she bites” she sneered.

there was no reply from matt, but you heard him suck in a breath from behind you.

you bit the inside of your cheek. you had gotten this far, but you hadn’t thought it through. what we’re you even going to say?

she laughed before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning down, getting right in your face.

“what? you gonna hit me?”

great idea.

there was no time for any other person to even get a word in edge ways.

as soon as you pulled your hand back, it was like everything was suddenly moving in slow motion.

the whole school was watching.

caden.

matt was right behind you.

oh god your parents, what would they think.

you were probably going to be expelled.

you were about to rock Jessica levris shit in front of half of your town.

there was no turning back now.

the second your fist landed on her face with a searing crack, the whole crowd gasped.

she dropped to the floor like a bag of bricks. clutching her face, crying like a kicked dog.

“yes bitch” you yelled, bending down slightly.

your chest was heaving up and down, red hot fury surging through your veins like the deadliest poison, and somehow it felt exhilarating, like taking a breath after drowning.

everyone stood completely gobsmacked. matt, elijah, caden, chris. all in complete silence, mouths hanging open at your outburst.

there was a brief moment, and the temptation to jump on her and carry on hitting her stupid bitchy face was through the roof.

but just as you went to make a move, hands came around you from behind your waist, throwing you over their shoulder, and escorting you off of the rink, while you kicked and screamed, yelling whoever it was to put you down.

-

“i mean what we’re you even thinking y/n” chris yelled, pacing up and down the locker room while you sat on the bench, watching him like a disciplined child. he had picked you up and walked you right out, preventing you from causing anymore damage.

about 20 minutes had passed, and still no sign of matt.

“i don’t know” you muttered quietly.

“you know you’re gonna be in trouble right?” he said, coming to a halt and pointing a finger at you.

you simply nodded and looked down.

the both of you just basked in the silence, taking a moment to recollect after the complete shit show that just occurred.

it was now that you were realising, that hitting jessica was the stupidest decision you had ever had. no good would come of it. matt would still probably go back to her, your parents were gonna be furious, ans the school we’re gonna expel you. what a waste of bruised knuckles.

suddenly, the locker room door burst open and matt came rushing through, making both you and chris to snap your heads up in his direction.

“i’ve looked everywhere for you guys” he panted.

“yeah, i had to get this Chihuahua away from the general public, who knows who’s next on her hit list” chris spat. you knew he was angry with you. this was the most out of character thing you’ve ever done.

matt nodded, looking at you, before rubbing a hand over his face and opening his mouth to speak.

“hey uh, would you give us a minute to talk?” he asked, swapping his gaze to his brother.

he just scoffed, not even sparing you a glance, before walking away, slamming the door shut on his way out, making you flinch.

matt watched the door close before padding over to you and sitting down.

you refused to look up at him, too worried to see his expression.

“he’s pissed” matt stated.

you just nodded. keeping your eyes trained to your feet. you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“you broke her nose” he spoke, his tone flat.

“good that bitch deserved it” you scoffed.

matt just shook his head, letting out a breath, before standing up in-front of you.

“what has gotten into you? last i checked, you wouldn’t even talk shit about someone without feeling bad and now you’re hitting people?” he questioned.

“i don’t know matt! i was pissed at you and then she just-“ you cut yourself off, sighing. “i don’t know” you finished. finally bringing your eyes up to meet his.

“so you wanted to hit me, but you hit her instead?” he raised his eyebrows, eyes boring into yours.

you just shrugged, there was no justification for it at all, apart from the fact that she was a complete bitch, and she was right there.

“you can’t just punch people y/n” he said sternly, folding his arms over his chest, looking down at you like a disappointed parent.

“you do” you exclaimed, looking up at him, raising your voice slightly.

“but you’re not me, you’re not like this, you’re nice and smart, and you’re always gentle with people” he shot back. his words threw you off a little. that was probably the nicest thing matt had ever said about you.

you didn’t reply. you just blinked up at him with furrowed brows.

matt sighed before taking a seat next to you again.

“for what it’s worth, i’d punch your ex for no reason” he said. turning to look at you.

“thanks matt. that means a lot. that doesn’t change the fact that everyone is pissed at me” you yelped, throwing your hands up and letting them fall, and slap against your legs.

“chris will come round, and i’m not pissed at you” he spoke lowly.

you sighed, and turned your head to look at him, and the look that he was giving you made you want to squeeze your thighs together.

there was something written on his face that you couldn’t decipher. his eyes were low and dilated. like he was hungry for something.

there it was again, that moment of silence, both of you just staring at eachother.

matt brought his hand up to brush against your face, then letting it cup your cheek, and in that very moment, you did know better.

your lips were on his in less than a second, pushing and pulling against him.

you felt his tongue prod at your lips. begging for entrance witch you granted, and he was all over you, running his tongue along the roof of your mouth, making you whine and matt smirked against your lips.

his hands came round to pull you up onto his lap and you happily obliged. running your hands up his chest and round to the back of his neck, tugging his hair, pulling a low groan from matts mouth, as his hands ran up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer.

the kiss was hot and sloppy, the both of you, somehow, relishing in the hatred for one another, but basking in the tension.

you felt matts hands travel down to your ass, pushing you back and pulling you forward, making you rock your hips against his, and you damn near dropped to your knees, before a voice snapped you both out of it.

“well this is a sight for sore eyes”.

—————————————-—————————————

also my taglist is not working, so if it says i haven’t tagged you, trust me i tried 💕

this long as fuck taglist: @sturnssan @biplrbtch bitch @valerieburkens @ukyios @eyelessdemon00 @iheart2021chris @hearts4chris @leah-loves-lilies @whicked-hazlatwhore e @lexihowardsgf @1201pm-blog m @chrislover911 @yourmom-123456789 5 @x4nd3rsukz @ilovechrissturnioloposts @mattnchrisworld @leoloveeeee e @jazab3lla @martyniukpl @sturnbaby @knowingnothingnoel @ilovemattstromboli i @obsessedwithyou @dragonstoneshortcake @breeloveschris @biinthisbitch13 @skyteller143 @innocentfsin @mattswifue @thatcrazybitch-69 @ihateeveryone357474 4 @shmophsturniolo o @sturns-posts @mattsturnzzz09 @sturnisposts @jenna0rtegaswife @jeffbuckleylvr27 @katelynmeier14 @sara2233445 @alexb25598 @sturniolos4lifee @st7rnioloss @kasiaslayuje @causeidontlikegolsrush @cosmicmistake42069 9 @xxloveralways14 @24kmar @creamoncreamoncream2 @kennyhop @khloe7233 @sofiasnookiee @sfdfgy @iker-blog1 yn @sleepdeprivedandinsane @quinnroki @lvr444life e @ffhgdxgg @travelintheworld2 @aubreyswift13 @sturniololol @starziick @heartlesssturniolos @nickmillersn1gf @beautyb1ade @tommysaxes

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Could I please request Alastor seeing his QP partner attacking/distracting Adam during the finale so that he could get away, and maybe some angst of Alastor knowing he can't go and help them in his near death condition, and not knowing if they're dead or alive. Spoiler they're fine you don't become close with the Radio Demon without being some sort of badass.

Sorry if this is too specific, I hope you're having a good day.

I sort of combined this one with @meefy's request (this one). It doesn't totally match the asks, so I apologize. I threw this together between classes a bit hastily, so sorry if the pacing or writing seems off.

Yeah, Reader is a little OP. Oh well.

May or may not write a continuation where Al takes care of Reader's injuries...

TW: Canon-typical violence

Let Me Help You

Alastor x Reader (QP)

There were suddenly angels fucking everywhere. Gold ichor mixed with deep red in pools on the ground. Alastor’s shield had shattered. It hadn’t even been ten minutes, and the shield was gone. 

You tried to look for Alastor on the roof, anything to show he was alright. A flash of green followed by the distinct sight of Alastor’s tentacles helped soothe your worrying, turning back to the fight at hand. He’d be okay. He was one of the most powerful demons in Hell, he had to be okay. 

Regardless, you started to fight your way to the roof, cutting angels down left and right. Your prowess in battle had started to show through, dodging expertly before retaliating effortlessly. But there were so many of them. 

The numbers became overwhelming. Angel after angel started flanking you at every angle. You were trying to keep your eye on Alastor, but you kept nearly tripping over corpses instead. An angelic spear grazed your cheek, causing you to lash out, knocking back the growing crowd before tearing them apart one by one.

A terrible sinking feeling developed in your stomach, causing your focus to go straight up. With a flash, you teleported yourself to the roof. Alastor was half-transformed, a sinister grin filling his face while his signature tentacles framed his figure.

Adam, the first man himself, was in the air, brandishing a weapon resembling a guitar.

“--Cuz radio is fucking dead!” Adam shouted, as a bright flash of light caused you to shield your eyes. 

The moment the light subsided, your eyes widened in shock. 

“What just happened?” Alastor looked around frantically, locking eyes with you before seeing his cane in his hands, snapped in half. “Fuck.”

Neither of you saw Adam fly back down, swinging his weapon down. Alastor fell back into the ground, blood dripping from a huge gaping wound in his chest.

“Alastor!” You cried, running over to stand in front of him. Staring Adam down, your face pulled into a snarl. “You motherfucker!” Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you lunged at the angel.

 

Using your lightning-fast reflexes to your advantage, you managed to dodge any attack Adam sent your way. You narrowly missed getting obliterated multiple times, but what matters is that Adam’s focus is on you. Stealing a quick glance back at where Alastor was leaning against the wall, the huge gash in his chest slowly soaking his shirt with blood, you saw him melt into the shadows while glaring heavily at Adam with his ever-present smile. 

“Oh no,” Adam mocked. “Did I just kill your boyfriend?”

“Fuck you.” You focused all your anger, all your worry, into misdirecting Adam. At this point, you were just trying to keep him busy. Luckily, you’d learned some things during your time in Hell, thanks to Alastor. Keeping Adam running back and forth wasn’t that difficult, or at least you tried to keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you tired him out, or let the others focus on the horde of angels, it would help?

Where did Alastor even go? How were you supposed to find him when he just disappeared in thin air? Was he going to be okay? What would happen if he died? Would you do if he died?

Somehow, even though you were distracted, you kept dodging Adam’s attacks. The fatigue was growing on you, though. Adam was definitely not like the other angels. Any time you tried to attack him, he dodged or countered before you could react properly. His attacks were too strong for you to take head-on, which was why you were stuck dodging everything. 

“Now this is just fucking boring,” Adam groaned. With a movement of his fingers, you found yourself on the ground with a flash of light. A burning sensation ripped a pained cry from your chest as you doubled over, coughing up blood. 

Adam kicked your side for good measure, sending you careening off the building. “Fucking pussy.” 

You mustered a portal before you hit the ground, softening your fall as you rolled into your bedroom. It still hurt, pain causing your body to spasm. Dangerous-looking burns decorated the skin on the upper half of your body. While your vision faded in and out of focus, you tried to use some of your power to heal yourself as best you could. 

The pain eased just enough that you could focus on the matter at hand: finding Alastor. At this point, you couldn’t give a shit whether angels killed everyone in Hell or not. You needed to find your partner. You needed to find Alastor. 

Hands shaking, you mentally went through a checklist of every place in Hell you’d ever been to, trying to determine where he’d have gone. 

Almost like mockery, the old radio that sat on your desk crackled faintly. Of course! Where else would Alastor be but the one place he feels most in control. 

Rather than trying to make another portal, you picked yourself up off the floor and started walking. The hotel itself was abandoned, making it easy for you to traverse the halls without interruption. Your body ached as adrenaline started to wear off, but at least you could function. Who’s to say what Alastor was capable of. 

You cringed at the memory of his wound. Not only was it long, but it looked deep, with blood steadily leaking out. Alastor’s signature red outfit and his blood was not a good combo, you decided. Yes, it might match, but it was not right. 

It didn’t take long for you to get to the recording booth near the top of the hotel, carefully making sure you stayed out of sight. Your wounds healed little by little as you walked, your natural healing factor kicking in. A few well-placed deals, and your healing was nearly ten times as fast as a regular Sinner’s.

There was no need to knock, the door hanging from its hinges. The recording booth was in massive disarray. And in the center, leaning weakly in his chair, sat the man you were looking for. 

“Alastor.” You breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him still alive, but further inspection didn’t do much to help your nerves. His breathing was shallow, expression pained but somehow still holding a strained grin. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp. 

“Helping you, obviously,” you snapped in reply. There was no first aid kit nearby, so you just ripped sections of your jacket off, forcefully shoving the scraps onto Alastor’s still-bleeding chest. 

“I do not need your help,” he snarled back. Despite his words, he didn’t try to discard the fabric you were now pressing into his wound. 

When Alastor finched, you hesitated. You didn’t want to cause him any more pain, be it physical or emotional, but you knew he’d insist on trying to deal with everything himself. You were a similar way, but he’d also do the exact same thing you were doing if the situation were reversed. 

Gritting your teeth, you forcefully held the fabric to him as it slowly became blood soaked. “Summon a damn first aid kit.”

“I said–”

“I don’t fucking care.” You raised your head, meeting Alastor’s eyes so he knew you were serious. Was your voice shaking? Maybe. Were you scared? Most definitely. Was Alastor more important? Always. “Let me help you.”

Alastor visibly deflated, bringing a hand to his face. “Fine.” His voice was stiff, defiant. With a wave of his hand, a first aid kit appeared beside you. 

You were silent as you worked, now with actual medical supplies at your disposal. Any training you’d had while you were alive all came back to you while you attempted not to make the injury any worse than it already was. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were still alive,” Alastor admitted quietly after a few minutes. “Adam was much… more than I’d anticipated. I appreciate that you allowed me to retreat.”

Pausing, you looked Alastor up and down, possibly to see if he had a head injury as well. Never, in all your years, had Alastor ever said anything so kind to you. 

“What else would I do?” You shrugged. “Leave you to die? In your dreams, maybe. We’ve been friends for so many years, I’ve lost count. So of course I helped you, you stubborn asshole. A psychopathic angel is nothing if it means helping you.”

Alastor was silent for a moment. “If Adam had killed you…” The room filled with static, Alastor’s true demon form coming out ever-so-slightly. “I was prepared to burn all of Heaven to the ground.”

“Thanks for the sentiment, Al.” Your expression softened, unable to deny the smile that grew on your face. “Now, sit up so I can secure this gauze.”

Hours later, after the hotel had been rebuilt and you were prepared to act like Soft Alastor had never happened, an arm looped in yours. Alastor stood beside you, smiling down like always. 

“Come now, dearest. It’s time for supper!” 

Something about Alastor was different now. His expression was altered. He’d seemed more defensive in the aftermath of the battle, however, he seemed to do the exact opposite around you. 

It was subtle enough that only you (and maybe Rosie) would be able to tell. Luckily, for Alastor, you were perfectly content keeping your observations to yourself.

[jokeringcutio]

Stepdad! William Afton x (f)  Reader: New Year ( Warnings: Smut)

AN: Happy New Year to all my followers and all you WilliamAfton / SteveRaglan / MatthewLillard Fanbunnies. Here’s a little drabble that fits inside the stepdad AU universe.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Talk about adultery/secrecy/taboo relationship, mouth on v, p in v, unprotected s*x, threats of stepdaddy wanting to keep you with him.

The soft glow of fairy lights illuminated the room as you sat at your desk, pen in hand, diligently writing in your diary. The New Year had just begun, and with it came a sense of renewal, of change. You couldn't help but wonder what this new period in your life would bring—new experiences, new people, or perhaps a different side to those already in your life.

The door creaked open, and without looking up, you knew it was him—your stepdad, William. He entered quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. You didn't move, not even when he approached and placed a warm, strong hand on your shoulder.

"Enjoying the peace and quiet after all that partying?" he asked, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey.

"Definitely," you replied, setting your pen down. "Vanessa and Mike really went overboard with the drinking, huh?"

William chuckled, his fingers starting to trace slow circles on your shoulders, drifting lower with each pass. "Yeah, they were both pretty hungover the next day. Serves them right for turning our living room into a war zone."

You shivered at the sensation of his touch, but continued the conversation. "I guess it was a memorable way to start the year." Your thoughts betrayed you, wondering if William's presence in your room held some hidden meaning, some unspoken desire.

"Memorable indeed," he murmured, his hands now dangerously close to the curve of your breasts.

The heavy thud of your diary closing echoed through the dimly lit room. William's blue eyes locked onto yours, a shadowy look lurking in their depths. He leaned in, his breath hot and hushed against your ear.

"Your mother is doubting our wedding," he whispered, his voice laced with bitterness. "She's talking about divorce. She suspects I've been fucking her darling daughter."

Your heart clenched at the words, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. You scowled at him, the unfairness of it all surging within you. It was he who had started this twisted game, manipulating you into secrecy. You would never want to hurt your mother this way. You’d never have allowed a married man to touch you if he hadn’t been living in the same house, under the same roof, manipulating you into this with every breath you took.

"And did you tell her the truth?” you hissed, accusingly. “Did you tell her how often you fuck her little girl?” You used those words on purpose, as William loved to remind you of how much younger and weaker you were compared to him. Nothing more but a little girl that needed to be put in her place. Whether you’d been bratty or not.

A low growl escaped his lips as he grabbed your wrist, flipping you over the desk without a moment's hesitation. Your body tensed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. He pushed your pants aside with rough fingers, and then… he surprised you.

His beard tickling your skin as he lowered his mouth to you.

"Dad!" you gasped, but it was too late. His tongue traced patterns on your most sensitive flesh, teasing you mercilessly. A shudder ran down your spine, the pleasure building up inside, threatening to explode.

The tip of the tongue dipped in. He slurped and sucked and suckled on your nub until you writhed in pleasure. But a strong hand kept you pushed down, your chest against the desk, your diary trapped underneath your tummy.

"Remember who's in charge here," he murmured against you, his voice dark with desire. The air from his lips tickled your wet folds. You felt a shiver run down your spine, felt your walls pulse helplessly with pleasure.

He always managed to do this to you. The strong hand kept pushing you down, giving you no room to move away from the onslaught of his mouth. His lips, his tongue, his beard – he was driving you insane. This must be the reason your mom invited him into her life, you thought through the haze. He was so good in giving you pleasure, that you’d forget whether you had said yes or no or had allowed him in. The sensation of his beard brushing against you only heightened the intensity, pushing you closer to the edge. You were seeing stars.

And then his lips were gone.

"Please," you whimpered, your voice wavering. "Daddy, please." The word felt strange on your tongue, but there was no denying the thrill it sent through you. William's eyes darkened with lust as he flipped you over, onto your back, and positioned himself between your legs.

"Remember, you are my little girl too now," he growled before thrusting inside without warning. The intensity of it left you gasping for breath, fingers digging into the edge of the desk. His movements were rough and hungry, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of both fear and pleasure.

His cock was stretching you impossibly wide, your vaginal walls pulsed around him in an effort to fit him in. Slick lubed him all the way, dripping down and even coating his balls that were heavy and tightened with each thrust, ready to burst.

"Harder," you managed to choke out, driven by a need you couldn't quite comprehend. He obliged, his grip on your hips bruising and unyielding. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind, torn between desire for William and guilt over betraying your mother.

"Mine," he snarled, his eyes locked onto yours as he drove into you with brutal force. The desk squeaked and thudded against the wall, the papers that had been laying upon it fell to the floor, your phone tumbled over the edge. The word echoed in your mind, pulsing with each pounding heartbeat. You belonged to him, body and soul, and there was something undeniably intoxicating about that fact.

As the coil within you tightened, desperation clawed at your chest. "Oh, Dad, I'm—"

"Say it," he demanded, his voice harsh and unforgiving.

"Daddy," you whispered, barely audible. “I’m gonna come on your cock.” And with that final submission, you shattered beneath him, your climax crashing over you in waves. It took him a few more firm thrusts but he followed soon after, his release hot and possessive inside you.

You bit your lip after catching your breath, listening to the low pants of your stepdad as he too got down from his high. You watched as he ran a hand through his wispy hair, grey locks betraying how much older he was compared to you. Not that you minded. You thought the age had added a spark to him – like fine wine.

Withdrawing from your trembling body and leaving a trail of lukewarm cum on the inside of your thigh, William reached down, sliding your diary from underneath you. He flipped it open, his eyes scanning the pages. The thin-lipped serious expression he wore slowly was replaced by a predatory smirk. As he read, his smile only grew wider, more satisfied.

"Look at this," he murmured, his fingers tracing over your words. "You write you can’t wait for us to fuck. So eager during the day, waiting for your mom to go away so Daddy can have his fucking fun on the playground.”

A low groan, an indication of what your words did to him. You knew exactly which parts he was reading. The entries where you described how your body had started to adjust to him. How it felt when he had you warm his cock. How happy you were when he made you cum afterward. How your feelings for him had started to change. Whatever they had been in the beginning, they had been fully replaced with an unadulterated love for him.

His blue eyes met yours, the smirk never leaving his face. “You like it when I fuck you, sweetheart. How sweet. It even says you claim to have fallen in love with me."

He closed the diary, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on the top of your head. The contrast between his earlier violence and this tender gesture left you reeling. He helped you up into a sitting position before he turned away from you, adjusting his pants and making sure he looked presentable again.

"I'll find a way to keep you with me," he promised, his voice low and dangerous.

You knew you should have been terrified, but all you could feel was that strange, dark thrill deep within your core. William Afton had claimed you, and there was no going back.

~

If you like this kind of filth, I have a lot more of Stepdad!Afton x Reader and more coming up. I also write for other interesting bad men such as slasher characters. If you are feeling generous - as it is the season of giving - you can always leave me a little thank you on my Ko-Fi (:

I’ll post some quick links below to other works. My prompt box is still open, but I will be heading into the hospital at the end of December and depending on my treatment, I might have to close it in the near future. But I’ll keep you up to date :)

Quick links:

~~ Masterlist - Request Box -  Support me on Ko-Fi ~~

[patchiko]

I can't stop thinking about Princess Mononoke AK!Jason, dude is just so feral and full of anger just like San, but I like the idea of that famous scene:

"I'll cut your throat out and that'll make you stop talking!"

"You're beautiful."

But with a reader who had never seen his face before, maybe they save him and he scold them for it and threaten them, but reader is just to mesmerized and busy losing blood to care.

YOURE FEEDING ME DAWG— I swear i needa write a fic of Ak!Jason and a Civilian!Reader or smthn cause youre so rightfjorbdkdjdjd.

but i dont think ak!jay would threaten someone he cares about. it’d make him feel like his time with the joker rubbed off on him too bad :(

HOWEVER. short fic of this bc i LOVE THIS so BAD

“You’re So Beautiful.” / Eyes Are Windows Into The Soul Ak!Jason SHORT FIC SFW

tw: blood! not super in depth! but reader has a not detailed wound!

NO BETA, I DIE LIKE A REAL NIGGA!!

What you did this night will always be unequivocally, undeniably, unmistakably, DOWNRIGHT, stupid. But was it worth it? A little.

JASON was grappling across rooftops as fast as he could to his bunker; your wound wasn’t a death sentence but needed to be tended to quickly. His arm was wrapped around your lower waist, body tightly pressed against his as he zipped across Gotham. Jason had adrenaline rushing through him, especially because he could feel your warm blood seeping onto his clothing. He was so quiet, it made you wonder if you were gonna die, but tried to rationalize it with the fact that he’s never been much of a talker. He landed on a roof and propped you up against a wall as he unlocked the door that connected to the top of his bunker. Jason kept his eyes trained on you through his mask, you were light headed and his Hood showed that your heart-rate was higher then average as well. Obviously really use to this kind of action, he wasn’t sure if he hated himself for getting you involved in his Gotham gravity or the fact he couldn’t protect you. It was BOTH.

JASON wrapped his arm around your waist, then threw his other under your knees. Princess carrying you down to the bathroom. “My knight in shining armor?” You joked as he set you down onto the toilet lid, trying to ease both your nerves just a bit. “Not funny.” He grunted, crouching down under the sink to grab the first-aid kit he had under it. “Understandable..” you said meekly in return. Jason kneeled besides you, quickly making work on disinfecting the wound. “Not a big fan on dark ‘poorly timed’ humor?” He paused, and took off his helmet, damn thing was too detailed for him to see properly. He needed to work on stitching this, not know your god damn blood type and parents. His annoyance peaking, he responded sharply “I’m not a big fan of you stupidly jeopardizing yourself for me.” he knew not to look at you, just fucking knew not to. You were gonna say something— you had to—he cant— he fucking looked. They say the eyes are windows into the soul, “You’re beautiful.” Not what he expected, not even a little. Maybe a ‘How’d you get that?’ or ‘The hell happened to you?’ but that? Yeah not fucking that. It had you both staring into each others eyes for just a few seconds too long. He turned away once he felt his face burning,” God, how much blood are you losing?” You snickered.

THE Red Hood is a pretty boy, with pretty blue eyes, and a pretty face, and a pretty bottom lip.

so worth !

i loved this so bad, inbox is open for more rqs and rambles!

[addicted-to-dc]

Spider-Man 2099/Miguel O’Hara X Spider!Reader - Twice Bitten

I just saw Across the Spider-Verse and I NEEDED to write for Miguel. Just DAMN it was so nice to see my fav spider grace the screen.

This will most likely be a series, maybe friends to lovers, but we’ll just see where this story takes us.

(Part 2 out now!)

Warnings: Descriptions of pain, fighting, angst. typical spider stuff. Slight spoilers for the movie?? Nothing plot related.

1,400 word count. Enjoy!!

Okay, maybe you’ve introduced yourself one too many times, but this time couldn’t hurt.

You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the one and only Spider-Woman who thwips and quips all over New York, protecting innocents from bad guys. It’s a rough job, you’ve lost more people than you can count, but you always get back up. Being good, and doing good is in your DNA. You can’t stop now, not even when your body refuses to listen to you. 

It comes out of nowhere as you swing towards a reported disturbance, your spider-sense warning you too late when something hard slams into your chest. Your web disconnects, sending you crashing into the nearest rooftop. 

You force yourself to recover, lifting your hand to see black ooze spreading all over your body. Your eyes widen, recognizing the symbiote instantly. It spreads all over your body, seeping into you as your body seizes. Your body meets the ground once again, your screams morphing into something monstrous. The roof below you cracks under the pressure of your strength, even more so as you feel pain shock your entire body. It feels like you’re glitching, your atoms falling apart and being put back together in a matter of seconds.

Forcing yourself up, you grab onto the symbiote, uselessly attempting to rip the creature off of you. With another scream, you feel a final snap. Your body freezes, your mind at a standstill as you feel something invade your mind.

You’re not my spider, but you’ll do.

You gasp as the symbiote bonds even further to you but stops when you resist. The glitch happens again, making you fall to the ground once again. Something is wrong, extremely wrong. 

“Get. Off. Of. ME!” you scream, finally getting a grasp on the symbiote and pulling. It feels like you’re pulling a piece of yourself with it. You stop, groaning when the pain subsides. Your hot breath in your mask nearly makes you pass out, but you’re able to stand once again.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your thoughts run wild as the symbiote nestles itself further into you. It can’t be your symbiote, no, that one is locked away for good. 

You can feel the symbiote react to your thoughts, but you have no time to recover when you suddenly slam into the ground. You take the hit like a champ, opening your eyes to see someone in a red and blue suit. His claws dig deep into your chest as he roughly places a device onto you. 

A high-pitched noise emits from the device, causing the symbiote to scream. Despite the device, it remains bonded to you. You writhe in pain until you manage to rip the device off, accidentally sending your attacker flying off the roof. Your legs nearly give out on you as you stand, but you remain strong. You always get back up.

The figure returns, swinging back onto the roof with a neon red web. You raise your fists. Another wannabe spider? You feel your emotions blow up, your mind clouded as you try to figure out what is going on. 

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here for the symbiote,” he says with raised hands. “Let me help you.”

He’s not going to help you. He’ll rip us apart.

Anger floods your system as you lunge forward, attacking him blindly as he narrowly avoids your attacks. He plants another device on you, then another. They both go off at the same time, briefly separating you from the creature. It gives you enough willpower to stop fighting, but your body doesn’t let up.

“I c-can’t stop,” you whimper, trying to hold yourself back as your fist meets his face. “Please, end this.”

He lands a punch in the center of your chest, sending you flying. Another device goes off, but it still doesn’t work. This symbiote won’t let you go. 

It takes everything in you to stop moving, your muscles straining against themselves as you grasp onto your head. The symbiote urges you to give in, to let them take over until you finally feel a hand on your shoulder.

You move to push him away but feel a sharp sting in your neck. Gasping, your hand moves to find purchase on him, but your arms limply fall to your sides. The symbiote finally detaches from you, glitching until it moved into one of the traps he set on the ground. It pops up, trapping the creature.

The pressure lifts, only for you to realize that it was his teeth that just did that. You weakly turn your head to look at him, your blood on his lips as he pulls away. Your body aches in more ways than one, feeling yourself slowly begin to burn. Soreness seeps into you, making it difficult to even move a finger. You haven’t been like this since you were first bitten by that spider all those years ago. 

You stare into his red eyes, unable to read them as he lifts you up. He removes your mask, finally allowing you to breathe the fresh air. You flinch as soon as a bright light flashes, a portal of sorts opening in front of you. The symbiote goes in first, then the two of you. 

Your eyes close and your body goes slack. As soon as his feet meet solid ground he’s running. His movements jostle you awake. You must be hallucinating because you see hundreds of… you? Different spider suits flash around you until you’re set down on a cold table. 

Your neck burns even more, forcing you to roll to your side as you curl into a ball. You feel the heat spread through your body, your muscles so tense you think you’ll snap them. That’s when you feel it.

Your muscles growing in size. Your teeth expand to sharp canines. Just as someone goes to restrain your arms, your hand slams into the table and claws cut through the metal like butter. When one of your arms were finally free, you shoot a web and pull yourself away from the group. One of them goes to move forward, but the blue and red one stops them. 

You greedily suck in air, sticking to the highest point in the room as you recollect yourself. The red and blue one dismisses everyone, keeping his eyes on you as everyone filters out. You finally catch your breath, confusion clouding your mind.

“What did you do to me?” you ask, shuddering when your new fangs made speaking awkward. 

He removes his mask, letting you see those red eyes again. They’re hypnotizing, reassuring you that he means no harm. He crawls up the wall slowly, closing the distance as he gently examines his bite mark. He’s lost in thought, running through different possible explanations that could shed light on why the hell his venom… changed you?

“I don’t know,” he replies, dragging his fingers along the bite. “It’s nearly healed already.”

You hiss when his fingers trace over a sensitive spot, your hand instinctually grasping his wrist. He doesn’t say a word as he opens your fingers, comparing your new claws to his. He removes your gloves. You don’t protest, especially when your new talons have ripped them to shreds.

His claws retract back into his hand and he begins to gently trace his fingers in your palm, “They go away when you’re relaxed.”

“Kind of hard to do that when I’m freaking the fuck out,” you quip.

Your body betrays you, taking in his immense warmth as he gently brushes against your claws. They finally disappear as if nothing was even there in the first place. Your fangs do not change.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding your hand tightly. “It was the only way to-”

“All a part of the job,” you chuckle, your fangs on full display as you flash him a gentle smile. 

His eyes immediately hone in on them, his index finger lightly tracing the point, “You’re just like me? My venom has never done this before.”

“Maybe I’m just that special,” you mumble tiredly. “Didn’t expect to get bitten twice by a spider.”

A small, tense laugh escapes from his lips. He watches as you doze off, nearly falling off the wall until he gently guides you to the ground.

“What’s your name?” you mumble out, sighing when you feel a soft bed against your back.

“Miguel,” he responds, placing a blanket over you. 

“You owe me dinner,” you mutter before letting your exhaustion finally win. 

You always get up, but you’ll do that after a quick nap.

[run-little-hero]

TW // Gun mention, knife mention

Villain never pictured feeling so content at the end of their life. Supervillain is dead and most of their team has been apprehended, but approaching their own demise feels only bittersweet. It helps to know their death will be delivered by such beautiful hands.

Sirens and screams are distant, muted. Villain is facing away from the door to the roof, staring over the edge of the high-rise. They hear the door’s rusty hinges creak open, followed by gentle footsteps.

Villain takes a breath. “Fitting way for this to end.” They turn to face Hero. “I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

Hero steps forward, brows bent and lips quirked in an aching smile. Villain is drawn to the sight of them, stepping away from the edge and closer to their fate.

“Don’t fight me, Villain. Just come quietly, it’ll be easier that way.”

“Into custody? A prisoner of the Agency?” They huff. “You can’t deny me my freedom, you know that. There’s only one way for this to end.”

Hero shakes their head. “I’d never do that to you. You’ll have to kill me first.”

How brave. Villain wonders if Hero really means it. If they’d still keep that promise staring down Villain’s handgun.

They don’t act on that impulse and instead, clasp their hands behind their back. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”

Hero looks to be on the verge of tears. It rips through Villain’s heart like nothing else. “How can you ask this of me?” Hero whines.

“How can you ask me to let myself be captured? I’d rather die than subject myself to that.” The anger rises in Villain’s voice. “You know what they do to those of us they capture. Don’t act like the Agency is so merciful.”

“I—“ Hero chokes. A few tears have fallen from their eyes. “I can’t lose you.”

Villain laughs, a strained, awkward sound of grief. “Well you should’ve thought about that earlier.” They can’t feed into Hero’s affection. “Maybe a better hero wouldn’t have gotten so attached.”

“Stop it,” they spit. “You can’t make me want to hurt you.” They walk forward, taking Villain in their arms. “Please.”

“Hero…” They close their eyes. This is enough for Villain—to die knowing someone cares so much. To perish in love and treat death as an embrace. “Hero, I—“

Bang. Bang. Bang. A metal thud sounds repeatedly against the door. Hero must’ve locked it.

“They’re here.” Villain takes Hero’s hands. “Please. I want it to be you,” they resign.

Villain stares into Hero’s eyes as their hands break contact and Hero reaches for something at their waist. Adrenaline is coursing through Villain as they try to regulate their breathing, teetering on the edge of life and death. The banging on the door gets faster and louder in their ears. Finally, they close their eyes as Hero snakes an arm around their waist. They prepare for the sting of a knife, the explosion of a gun, the inevitable impact of their death.

“You’re the only person I want to save.”

Hero is gentle with them, as always. Villain doesn’t know if they’ll ever get used to it.

Hero grips Villain tight and runs them both to the edge of the roof. Before Villain can take it in, Hero fires a grappling gun at a neighboring building. They’re pulled into the air together, and Villain hardly gets a glimpse at the heroes who busted through the door before they’ve disappeared.

—

snippet #7

[superums]

niran "bua" Pruksamanee x tank! reader

gn!reader. fluff. alight angst. slight ableism (its in passing). no y/n or name usage. established relationship. reader is an overwatch agent. usages of thai, tell if they're wrong pls :3. no pronouns besides one mention of the word 'woman'. no gendered terms. both reader & niran are 28-31. you're a tank though its not explicitly mentioned.

colored text: niran. you.

sorry i've been gone from so long i started playing baldurs gate😭

general headcannons

you used to be a famous boxer. you were on billboards, headlining major fighting events, making tons of money goes pay-per-view fights—you were a star. you loved hearing your fans chant your name, telling off hecklers in the crowd and the adrenaline running through your veins you left the scene.

during your professional career you used to watch the news and wish you could do something about the things that were going on in the world.

you wanted to help badly but you weren't super human nor did you have any smarts to make up for it. you were just a boxer with a mean right hook.

then your life seemed to change for an instant—you lost both your arms a terrorist attack. it happened quickly; one minute you were fighting at the heavyweight championship the next you were screaming at the top of your lungs as smoke clouded your vision.

you ended your career not long after. you felt like a shell of yourself, not only because of your new disability and the phantom pains that came with it, but also because all you know is fighting.

the prosthetics the doctors offered you didn't feel the same. some couldn't hold a punch, others were hallow and the force of your you exerted would smash it into pieces without you trying.

for a while you were hounded by paparazzi, every time you were in headlines they would run up to you and say things like "it must be hard for you to go from on top of the world to nothing all in a year" or "i pity you really."

you tried to get used to the comments but no matter how many times you tried to swallow the humiliation you felt it just wouldn't go away.

after viral picture of you at the beach without your prosthetics on where people called you everything but a child of god you just decided to go far away from everyone.

you moved to a cabin on a prairie. being so far and out of the way it was a miracle you found him, or well—he found you. he came when you were close to giving up on your dream of fighting ever again.

you were sitting on your porch when you saw him from the corner of your eye standing at your warn down shack. he might have been trying to break into your house or knock you out you're not sure but you offered him a place to stay.

it might've been crazy, to let a stranger live in your roof but it was a decision made out of loneliness. he said his name niran. you let him stay with you. at first it was just for a couple of days; but then it turned into a week, then a month become months.

after a while finally he told you why he was trying to break into your house to begin with.

"i'm a fugitive." came out of his mouth as you both sat next to each other. his cold metal hand would be on top of yours if it was still there.

you turned to face him, calculating what you should say next. you've only know him for a month, its too short to know someone but you felt like he was the nicest person you've met. "i have a price on my head in a few places... seventeen to be exact...." he continued; voice getting lower as he continued. his brown eyes searching for anger or disgust on your face. instead he was met with a mix of curiosity, confusion and maybe a little fear.

"w...what for? if you can say." silence filled the room for a bit, niran was fidgeting with his prosthetic before opening his mouth again. "i...i made a new form of life, i want to heal people."

his voice wavered a little. back then his mind really didn't understand why but in his heart wanted you to accept him, not because he was alone—but because he loved you.

you accepted him without a second thought and after that you let him stay with you. over the months he started to have feelings for you; seeing your smile, the soft voice that was so much different from the one you used in the ring. seeing how you talk to him he might have fallen in love with you as soon as he met you.

you let him advance his technology in your basement and in return he gave you new arms out of hard light.

you knew you liked him but after that; giving you a second chance with arms you could feel things with, if you didn't love him then you definitely loved him after that.

with the new pair of new arms you felt indebted to him. you started training very soon after you got used to your arms not only because you missed it but because now you feel like you have to protect him from vishkar.

when you started dating he's so sweet to you. i'm a strong believer that niran is soft with his lovers even if he is a bit of a flirt. he never rushed things with you, always going slow with everything

it took him weeks of not months to kiss you for the first time, he didn't want to rush anything with you especially when if you're still vulnerable about your situation.

he set up a lovely picnic when he realized he so desperately wanted to kiss you. a large pink tree stood in the large plot of land you call a backyard. he planted plants both real and artificial— hoping it conveyed his love for you well.

he held your hands, his flesh and cybernetic hands held yours with such softness. as he led you to the picnic blanket you felt like you were in a movie; the baby pink tree pulsated and it made you feel gooey (in a good way), the phantom pains you experienced seems to disappear in that moment, leaving just you and niran.

as you both ate he talked to you like about his day how he planned this for months. at some point in your talk strayed away from normal topics, you felt his flesh hand caress your jaw only then you noticed how close you two were; niran peering down at you.

"i've been thinking..." he whispered, you twos lips almost gravitating towards each other—stopping when you two were only a foot apart. "i want to take things slow, not to rush you.." the tree pulsed again as you stared into his eyes, his voice so gentle with you as if you'd break if he talked louder than a whisper.

"can i kiss you?" he asked, you heart warmed at the words; you didn't even speak instead you leaned in more until your lips touched. it was a kiss you of a movie, his cybernetic hand went to you back as his flesh one held your jaw. passion flowed through the two of you and its all you've ever wanted; a movie like kiss with niran.

i imagine he's very passionate when it comes to you. when he kisses you it's almost like it'll be his last; he puts his hand on your chin and cradles your head literally every time it doesn't matter whats going on

his nicknames for you หัวใจของฉัน, ดอกไม้ของฉัน, love, darling and rose

translation: my heart, my soul

he wants his pet names to represent how deeply he loves you and if you don't speak thai he'll use the most intense words he knows.

you're devoted to not only loving but protecting niran! you've tried to train him for the worst case scenario of vishkar coming; and you've come to realize he's a lover not a fighter

so when he told you he was going to join overwatch you told him you were going to follow him and were prepared to argue with him if he said other wise but instead he told you "i was hoping you'd say that"

in game head cannons

while niran flirts with the roster in a joking way just know he seriously means it when he's talking to you! some moments playful and fun while others are more... intense

you: *sigh* it's so cold, i don't know how you're dealing with this

lifeweaver: lets hug! we can warm each other up!

you: *sigh*... it's so cold, i don't know how you're dealing with this

lifeweaver: i just imagine you and i feel so warm (sexual innuendo)

he thinks it's funny to mess with you even if it's in-front of your friends. down worry in reality he wont say things like that too loud... just between you two.

when you get elems he has multiple voice lines where he's in absolute awe in what you can do and they vary on how many kills you get.

1-2 kills usually gets a "you're so cool~" or "you're blooming!" while 3-5 gets a "it's amazing such strong actions can belong to someone so gentle."

i imagine being life gripped feels the same as being dropped from a super high place almost like a roller coster so maybe you have voice lines where you express you hate getting pulled

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: ah! it feels so weird when you do that

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: im gonna hurl..

if you're critical when he pulls you however your tone changes to something more thankful and sweet

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: you love me! you really love me!

reference

lifeweaver: *pulls you*

you: oh niran, i could just kiss you right now!

reference

you two probably have skins that match for sure. you have an epic that just a recolor of your normal skin but its mostly white and you have baby pink forget-me-nots made out of biolight in your hair.

when he eliminates you he's always so cheeky about it. he says "*laughs* forgive me my love!" and "ยกโทษให้ฉันดอกไม้ของฉัน"

translation: forgive me my flower

when he kills you via melee however he always says "*gasp* you must train some more!" and "it looks like i'm the strongest now! *giggles*"

when you send him to the spawn room his voices lines always make him seem more in love with you than upset. he says "*sigh dreamily* oh i love that in a woman" , "such brute strength makes me love them more..." and "พวกเขาทําให้ฉันกระเด็นออกจากเท้าของฉันอย่างแท้จริง!"

translation: they knocked me off my feet literally!

[stillfrownyclownlol]

@moonbiine got me with the Aiden bug

I thought a lot about how to start this and none of them were good so, here's this;

Frowny's Thesis on Aiden Clark having Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) based on the DSM-5 criteria, living with people with BPD (hi dad!), being...me!, and general vibes.

What is BPD?

Borderline Personality Disorder is defined by a prolonged disturbance of function marked by depth and variability of mood, pattern of unstable personal relationships, unstable self-image, marked impulsivity, and other symptoms. They can manifest in very different ways (the way it appears between my dad and my grandma for example is not the same), but generally includes this.

1. Fear of Abandonment

Nobody wants to be left behind, that's a given, but for people with BPD this fear can spiral into a paranoid phobia that impacts all their personal relationships. Because BPD is influenced by environmental factors, this often stems from children being abandoned in their youth (ex. My father was the child of a teen pregnancy and his parents couldn't care for him for the first few years of his life, letting him be raised by his grandparents. I also grew up alternatively without my mom and withouty my dad, and once for a time with neither of them)

It's been shown to us before that Aiden's parents are often absent from the house, for even months at a time. He seems very used to this and it's likely he grew up very isolated or passed around between different relatives. And I do think this shows in his attachment style; he is a very clingy and sort of "decides" to hyperfixate on a certain person (Ash *coughs*) in the hopes that they'll become friends, and he does this very quickly. Already so scared of losing Ash on that roof even tho he's only known her for like 3 months at this point. He really can't bear the thought of her not being with him.

On the subject of Ash he's idolized her sooooo bad she's so screwed. Pls the Angelic lighting filter he puts on her?? SHE CANT SAVE YOU AIDEN. YOU HAVE TO DO IT YOURSELF. (But i get it its hard) Ties back into how people with BPD see the world in strict black and white, he can't see Ash's flaws and that's how he defends her so much, she's literally like a savior to him and here comes the disciple complex.

He's been forced to move so many times, he's probably made friends who just couldn't keep up the effort of maintaining a long distance friendship and ghosted him, or even him doing the opposite, pushing people away just to avoid the sting of abandonment again. They can't hurt you if you hurt them first.

2. Unstable self-image.

He bleaches his hair end of story /j

No but really, tell me Aiden doesn't put up a persona- he's gone through the phases from quiet gifted kid to an impulsive extroverted mischievous mess. Don't you just look at him and feel the self-hatred coming off in waves?? Dyeing his hair, getting contacts, the ever present grin that must be painful at this point, it's like he can't...look at himself. Like he doesn't want to look at himself.

He can't even face his own problems; he literally paints a clown face on himself after dying cuz he doesn't want to process his feelings about it lol 🫠

Like genuinely, how exactly does Aiden want to be perceived? What is the point of this facade? For himself? For other people? I think he's just trying to shut away his past and start fresh without having to confront it, but...when the root is rotten, nothing healthy can grow, so he needs to get to the source of his issues.

3. Anger regulation problems

Unpopular opinion probably but he seems so angry to me. It's definitely WAY more present in the early chapters like when he goes tf off on Tyler, he was barely controlling himself there asdfghjkl- but I think it manifests more in him attacking the phantoms, it's obviously an adrenaline thing for him but I think he's taking out a lot of anger at the same time too. Even if some of this anger is coming from a righteous place; the desire to protect his loved ones (which ties into the abandonment too, you are still abandoned even when it wasn't their choice), because peope with BPD see the world as smth very...dangerous, I guess is the word? Even if maybe that doesn't apply to themselves

(Fastpass spoilers)

He's also not above taking his anger out on humans either considering he was about to take Alex's eyes out with that paintbrush and was gonna choke the life outta them-

(Done.)

4. Consistent feelings of sadness/worthlessness.

5. Self-injury, suicidal behaviour, suicidal ideation.

Aiden do be a sadboi even with all the smiley faces on his clothes. I think this is probably smth that was way worse when he was younger that led to that depression where he was locked in his room eating junk food and disassociating, and while he's probably coping with it differently it's still smth he struggles with. I mean shiiiiiit, because of his impulsiveness he does kinda cause problems but God he feels SOOOO goddamn bad about it lahdlsj, he was so guilty about the Ash situation, he probably beat himself up so much about that-

Emotions are very extreme, it's 'similar' to bipolar disorder with manic and depressive episodes, except they happen at a much quicker scale (in the same day for ex.) which seems to me how Aiden only lets himself experience positive emotions even tho he's in a deeply stressful situation (even tho there's good parts too like his friends) because he just can't handle having to fully experience those negative emotions.

Check, check, check! Aiden has zero self preservation instincts, he throws himself off walls, gets up close and personal with phantoms that could easily kill him, actually didn't give a fuck about dying?? Actually ENJOYED IT? But didn't wanna do it again because his Favourite person was worried about him and the absolute high of that feeling completely beat out anything else?? Okay man, we get it, you're living for somebody else at this point-

People with BPD suffer from chronic feelings of emptiness and pain is the best kind of distraction for Aiden (cue: him slamming his forehead on the table because he's bored)

6. Impulsive behaviors (aka a bunch of shit which can be summed up as addictions)

Well, for starters, he's an absolute adrenaline junkie, because he feels so constantly empty Aiden wants something to make him feel alive. And adrenaline is the flawless, biological, factual answer to this. Ergo all his octane hobbies and impulsive behaviors. Ties back into his obsessiveness, which, don't get me wrong this doesn't make him a bad guy or anything, we all get a little obsessed with things sometimes, that's just things humans do- but when you have bpd, it's very...difficult to just STAY happy, like an addiction, when the high wears off, they're empty again.

Maybe a bit of a stretch, but considering all the Ramen packets in his room when he was younger I wouldn't be surprised if he had some sort of ED or binge eats (Same bestie.)

Also for sure a reckless driver I'm 99% sure he crashed all those go-karts he drived before.

---

I don't really know where I'm going with this. It's hard to live with somebody who has BPD, it's hard to live with it yourself, it's hard to see other people go through it even when it's hurting yourself. I hate pushing people away, but you get so caught up in your own thoughts, and it just...happens...and when it's done...you really regret it, but it's too late...and you just wonder if things are better like this, being alone and not hurting anybody anymore, cuz they're certainly happy on their own

I don't think anybody who has bpd is automatically a bad person, they just have things harder than normal. People with BPD....they can be amazing artists, or good with animals, or really very kind. They have very big hearts, thats why they feel so deeply. And I think Aiden is a good person, because he has so much love to give, but has never been given an outlet to express that properly, but you can see him making great strides in learning how, with the help of his friends 🧡

Might edit this later when I get my thoughts more clear it's midnight here lol

[slytherin-ghost]

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night?

I was wondering if you could do a batfam x villian Bruce Wayne biological son?

This is just an idea i love angst

Like Bruce didn't know about him and he was raised by villain's and can control blue fire. He hate heros and villains. He probably feels that heros are supposed to save those in need but why did no one save him? A childish part of him wants to be saved and loved but what kind of idiot would give a villain a second chance specially him, a villain that have both heros and villains hate?

Hi! I'm doing good! Thanks for the ask!

I didn't know if you wanted a specific villain so I did Hugo Strange and Joker. Also, the reader is about 15 - 16 years old

Flashbacks are in bold

Warnings: Violence, fire, absent father, absent mother, angst, PTSD(?), crying, Hugo Strange being a d!ck, child abandonment, yelling

Why did no one save me?!

You ran across the roof tops and jumped building to building, you didn't look behind yourself, making sure you got far away from Arkham Asylum as possible. Once you got far enough, you stopped and took a breath the adrenaline running out. Sitting next to a tree.

It was a normal night. You had to talk to a psychiatrist, not expecting it to be Hugo Strange.

"So lets talk about your father did you know him?" Strange asked

"No." you replied, the Joker raised you after your mother and her new boyfriend ran away because they owed Joker some money.

"Biological father perhaps?"

"No." He didn't know you existed, apparently he "saved" your mother somehow. As far as you knew he wasn't a hero, none of the heros were actually heros. If they were why did they help you?

Strange asking about your father isn't what pushed you over the edge. It was him asking about heros.

You gently lit a branch from the tree on fire. The blue flames escaping your hand. The fire spread across the tree making the whole thing trapped in the flames. You leaned against it. Your power of fire didn't affect you.

You were snapped out of your thoughts as a figure stood in front of you. "Hello there." You greeted looking up at the Batman. "Come to take me back to Arkham?"

"Listen, your just a kid. You need professional help." The Batman stated

"Help from who the heros?! The heros who were supposed to help me but never did!" Fire grew in your hands the angrier you got before you threw it at the man in front of you.

He quickly fought back. Dodging every attempt that you made to hit him. At some point, Batman got a good hit on you knocking you out.

Bruce, not Batman, Bruce looked down at your body. He felt sorry for you. He got some of your backstory from Hugo Strange. He felt obligated to help you. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents. At least he had Alfred growing up, you had no one of a crazy clown.

He picked up your body and sat you in the back of the bat mobile.

Once back in the cave, Bruce took some of you DNA. You had a resemblance to his looks. "Your sure, he's going to be happy about you helping him?" Dick asked "No." Bruce replied. The boys had joined Bruce in the cave "Can't imagine what he went through, being raised by the joker." Jason commented. There was a ding signaling that the DNA test was done.

Bruce froze after reading the results.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

A few hours after you woke up you looked around. Unfamiliar with your surroundings. "Your up." A voice remarked. "Yes. I am." You replied "I wanted to talk to you about something." The voice said as Batman stepped forward. "Your parents. Do you remember anything about them?" You shook your head. "I was able to track you father." Batman stated. Your dad? How?

"Really?"

Batman nodded and removed his cowl "I'm your father." Batman was Bruce Wayne and your father!

Anger began to grow inside you again. "Your my father?! But your a hero?!" You yelled "You a hero but didn't dome to help me!"

Bruce sighed, "I would've if I knew about you. Your mother never told me." He said "But I'd like to help you now. I have four other boys that I'd helped-"

"You helped other boys but not me?!"

"Yes but I-"

"Why didn't anyone help me! When I needed help! No one came!"

Tears came to your eyes

"Screw your help! I can help myself if I need help!" And you left...

Bruce sighed and sat down. The boys. Dick,Jason, Tim and Damian felt sorry after hearing what happened.

They made a deal to find you that night.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Part 2?

Thanks for reading! I would like to make a part two if anyone wants me too. Please let me know if I missed any warnings.

[iamnot-crazy]

Pages of promise.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

Summary: You have always itched for adventure and when an interesting vessel appears you take your chance and jump aboard.

Trafalgar Law x GN!reader

---

You sat on the railing separating the dock from the town as boredom gnawed at you. Your island sat in North Blue right before the entrance to the grand line and was renowned for its vibrant dyes and delectable berries. No one of interest ever arrived at your town except for the few Marines who swagger through town, restocking before their journeys into the Grand Line. At least until today.

A peculiar yellow vessel, unlike any you'd ever seen, sliced through the turquoise water. It was a ship? Emblazoned on its side was a jolly roger – a smiley face with 6 lines radiating from it. It was an odd jolly Roger not having cross bone many have but there was no doubt in your mind that it was a pirate ship. Your heart hammered against your ribs with a thrill you hadn't felt in years.

With a surge of adrenaline, you vaulted over the wooden railing and stalked toward the docked vessel. An interesting crew disembarked, all clad in white jumpsuits emblazoned with the same smiley face insignia as their vessel. Behind the crew trailed a man with a brooding expression and a floppy white hat perched on his head, sported a yellow hoodie, and held a large sword resting it on his shoulder. He must be the captain you thought as you watched him approach the dockhand and pulled out a pouch of coins.

With a mischievous grin, you climbed aboard the deserted vessel. Your fingers traced the cool, smooth metal of the hull, a stark contrast to the sun-baked wood of the other ships that you have seen. Peeking through a porthole, you gasped. Unlike any ship you'd ever seen, the interior was a labyrinth of gleaming corridors and unique technology.

"What do you think you're doing!?" A voice boomed from behind you. You spun around to find the captain glaring at you from across the ship.

Ignoring his scowl, bounced over to him, "I'm joining your crew!" You state joyfully before running around the man taking in his features.

"Like hell you are!" He growled as tried to turn around to face you.

"But it will be so much fun!" You jump onto his shoulders forcing him to stumble forward, overwhelmed by your boundless enthusiasm.

You push off the man and run toward the door leading to the inside of the vessel. "Hey! Stop!" The man yells at you running after you as you laugh running through the halls.

"What kind of ship is this!?" you question excitably as your fingers brush against any buttons they can find.

"It's not a ship it is a submarine." The man groaned breathlessly as he chased after you, "ROOM! Shambles!"

You were transported into arm's range of the man who grabbed your collar holding you still, "I don't know who you are but you are NOT joining my crew! And you are DONE poking around my sub!" His face grew red with anger as he spit in your face.

Undeterred, you flashed him your most innocent smile, deploying your best weapon, your puppy-dog eyes. His face twisted in discomfort by your expression. He quickly banished you from the vessel with a sigh and a flick of his wrist, transporting you back to the dock.

You pouted at your removal from the ship but decided that you were not done with the pirate crew and you ran into town finding your makeshift home on the roof of the town bar. You had a small cloth that made a tent to protect you from the elements it was not much but you called it home. The biggest benefit is that it was easy to pack up and you threw all your items into a worn leather satchel. Nestled amongst your meager belongings, lay a pristine sketchbook, its pages blank and waiting to be filled with the extraordinary tales you were about to tell

Returning to the docks you perched yourself on top of a barrel with a determined glint in your eye, you unstrapped your satchel and flipped open the sketchbook. The first page remained stubbornly blank, a canvas for the adventures to come.

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from below, "Whoa, is that the Polar Tang?!"

You peered over the edge to see three figures approaching the docks. One is a tall man with a killer whale hat and a mischievous grin, beside him an impossibly cute polar bear mink, and a third man with a penguin perched atop his head.

"Is that what she's called?" you hummed, pencil hovering over the page. The three men crowded around you, mesmerized as you began sketching the submarine with a practiced hand. Each stroke brought the Polar Tang to life, capturing the sleek lines and the details you'd absorbed during your brief exploration.

"You're really good!" Shachi exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

"Amazing!" Bepo echoed, tilting his head to get a better look.

You grinned, a surge of pride warming your chest. "Thanks! Are you part of her crew?"

"That's right! We are the heart Pirates" Shachi confirmed, puffing out his chest. "I'm Shachi. This furry fellow is Bepo, and that's Penguin over there."

"And who is your captain?" You question curiously.

"Trafalgar Law." He responded with joy, "And who might you be?"

Your grin grew as you pulled your attention away from your sketch, "I'm Y/n! And I am joining your crew!"

The three pirates were taken aback by your bold statement and looked at each other in concern. But upon their lips, a smile grew and they all began to laugh. "And what will you be doing on our ship Y/n?" Shachi asked in between laughs.

"I'm going to capture your adventure! I am going to document the new era and I have a feeling your crew will be a large part of it!" You smiled as you spoke of your dreams with an unfeathered confidence.

"Well let me be the first to welcome you to the crew!" Shachi laughed smacking your back while grinning.

When Law emerged from the submarine he was surprised to find you surrounded by his entire crew admiring your work as Bepo posed in front of you as you added his addition to your journal. Upon seeing Law Bepo waved, "Captain! Have you met Y/n! She is going to record our adventures!"

Law's eye twitched. "New crewmate?" he sputtered, incredulous.

You, however, remained unfazed. With a confident smile, you flipped to the first page of the sketchbook and presented it to Law. On the first page, the Polar Tang gleamed in all its glory.

"I'm going to record your adventures," you declared, your voice ringing with conviction. Law stared at the drawing, then back at you.

He saw the spark of determination in your eyes, and a reluctant sigh escaped his lips. Shachi's and Penguin's enthusiastic endorsement and Bepo's silent plea with his puppy-dog eyes only sealed your fate.

"Fine," Law grumbled, his voice laced with resignation. "But don't get yourself killed."

As the Polar Tang submerged, plunging into the cool depths, you clutched your sketchbook, your mind already brimming with stories waiting to be told. From the electrifying battles you'd witness to the hilarious antics of the crew, you'd capture it all. The blank pages were no longer empty; they were a promise, a pact with adventure.

---

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

A/N: Wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[ghostgorlsworld]

Johnny Boy (part 5)

werewolf!Johnny x reader

part one is here

Once upon a time, you would've done anything for John Mctavish. He had been your older brother's cool best friend, and you were always desperate for him to see you as more--until one fateful night that ends up with you pregnant and him...gone. Fast forward six years and you've made a good life for yourself with your daughter Emma, with Johnny none the wiser. Until he decides to knock on your door.

Johnny spent a fair amount of time with you and Emma for the next week, weaseling himself into your schedule with a kind of single-minded determination that must have gotten him far in the military.

By Friday, you were exhausted, irritated, overstimulated, and, disappointingly enough, horny. It turned out the lack of sex over the last year or two had turned your hormones into monsters that were very attracted to the nice smelling man that fixed your refrigerator and coaxed Emma to eat her greens. It didn’t seem to matter that it was Johnny of all people, or the fact that you still couldn’t look at him without anger sparking in your heart.

What was worse was that Johnny brought up finances on Thursday, mentioning something about helping with the bills. That had been like a shot of adrenaline, your blood pressure rising through the roof.. 

You had dropped the bowl you were washing into the sink, shattering it into a thousand pieces. “I don’t need your help, John,” you had snapped. “I haven’t for the last decade.”

Johnny left shortly after that, seeming to have traded in his old hot-headedness for the same soft, patient tone he uses with Emma. He had explained it well, saying he hadn’t had a house or a family to spend his savings on in the last six years, and he wanted to ease the load for both you and Emma’s sakes.

But it was the fact that he felt so comfortable to casually interject himself into your lives. What would happen if you became dependent on Johnny again and he died? Or decided that family life wasn’t for him?

Then both you and Emma would be crushed. You didn’t want your finances to be involved as well.

So you were angry with him, avoiding the polite texts he had sent and the phone call that you sent to voicemail. All you wanted was peace and a night out with Charlie, perhaps a bit of making out and/or hands-in-pants involved.

You hadn’t gone that far with Charlie yet. Both of you had been burned in the past and you were enjoying the slowness of it all. Today, however, you were ready to be properly touched by a man. It had been too long.

Emma was spending the day with her grandparents by their request–they had picked her up an hour ago, your Mum seeming to sense you needed a nice, peaceful morning. 

You did laundry. You cleaned the kitchen. You made yourself lunch and watched an entire episode of the Bachelor without interruption, then took a hot bath with rose petals and a vibrator.

It was lovely.

You were cheerful as you dressed and packed Emma’s overnight bag, planning on dropping it off at Tom’s place since your parents had her. 

You turned the page in Jack’s novel before you left, smiling up at the paper maché whale. 

It was a nice walk, the air brisk and the snow crisp under your boots. You went over the Emma list in your mind: snacks, her favorite books, her favorite stuffy, toothbrush, pj’s, a chilled and chopped steak in case Tom had forgotten to grab dinner, crayons, paper…

Before you knew it, you were popping the door open with your hip. You had already mentioned to Tom you were popping in so there shouldn’t be any unwelcome, undressed visitors.

Except there was.

A man in a black surgical mask stood in the dark of Tom’s hallway, huge, dark-eyed, and super fucking bloody intimidating.

 You dropped the bag with a screech, thinking of burglars, murderers,oh-my-god-is-Tommy-murdered-like-that-woman-in-that-documentary-you-saw-once-

“Shut up!” Tommy said, frowning at you from the couch. “Fuck, lovie, he’s a friend from work.”

The man in the mask raised a hand in an awkward wave.

“Oh,” you said, your heart pounding in your ears. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re a right scary chap and my brother usually keeps female company.” “You’re alright, love,” the masked man said, his voice like gravel. He picked up Emma’s backpack from the floor, offering it to you with a massive hand.

The mask was odd and the hoodie covering the rest of his face and hair was odder. But your brother had rather imaginative taste in friends and you had seen and met much worse.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling as your heart resumed its normal pace. “I’m his sister.”

The man hummed, as if amused. “I can tell.” He offered you a gloved palm. “M’name is Simon.”

You shook it firmly, giving him your name in return. “Sorry, if I had known if Tommy was having company I would’ve called before I came over.”

“He’s not company, he’s a guest,” Tommy said, rising to herd you into the kitchen. “He’s staying here for a bit with Johnny.” That certainly had your spine straightening. You hadn’t thought Johnny would still be here, after all there were a dozen relatives that would all love to host their long lost war hero.

“He’s out for an errand, lovie, don’t look so tense.” 

You relaxed a fraction, soothed by the thought that you won’t have to deal with Johnny in your hair before your date with Charlie.

“You’re a friend of John’s then?” You asked Simon, your tone just a mite cooler than it had been before. 

Simon nodded, his dark gaze tinged with humor. “Don’t hold it against me, love.”

It took you a second to see that he was a wolf too. It was all in the way he moved, the languid way he blinked at his surroundings. “Easier said than done,” you teased, forcing yourself into the good mood you were in before. “In that case, Tom, do I need to reschedule? Emma isn’t much for strangers.”

Tom shrugged, unzipping Em’s pack.“Johnny isn’t much of a stranger now, and Simon is a good lad, he won’t mind her.” Simon nodded again, sinking into the shadows as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “I’ve heard she’s a sweet girl.” “The best,” you said, smiling. 

“Jesus, lovie, did you pack enough?” Tom said dryly, pulling out the sliced steak. “I’ve never let the girl starve, not in the last six years.” “You’re a busy man, I was just making sure in case you forgot,” you said. “By the way, she likes a glass of milk before bed now. And her favorite book is the one on top, the one with the rabbits, plus King Robert is the sheep she sleeps with-” “Right. I’ve got this. I promise.” You felt Simon’s eyes on you, judging, appraising. You were sure Johnny probably didn’t have the nicest things to say about you–most likely that you were an irritating little girl that followed him around for twenty years then proceeded to get pregnant and raise the child without him knowing,

“And Johnny will be here, so he’ll be able to spend some time with her,” Tom said, putting the steak in the fridge. “If that’s alright with you.” “It sounds like it’s already been planned,” you said, trying your very best not to be hateful in front of guests.

Tom sighed. “If I were half as smart as you think I am with your theories of scheming and plotting, I’d be living in a much nicer neighborhood.”

You laughed. “No, you’d be in jail.”

“Touché. Simon, how do you feel about a classic steak and potatoes meal tonight? It’s Emma’s favorite, she’s our six year old codger.”

Simon made an agreeable noise, his nose now in some masculine-looking magazine with bears and car parts on the front. He was quite a large man, commanding such a presence.

Johnny was an unsuspecting kind of violent, always smiling and laughing until he wasn’t, until it was serious. Simon was different. He felt older. 

Oddly, you didn’t mind him around Emma. You’ve wanted to expose her around more adult wolves anyways, so she’ll learn her manners.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright?” You said, anxiety creeping in like it always did whenever you would be separated from Emma for longer than a few hours. 

“We’ll all keep an eye on her, pet,” Simon said. “Between the three of us, I think she’ll be safe.” You relaxed. “Right. Thank you, Simon.”

Tommy ushered you out of his house quickly after that, his phone blowing up with Johnny’s texts and calls. You saw his black truck pull up minutes later, but by then you were already through your door. 

Emma and your parents stopped by for lunch, your mother chattering about how she had seen Johnny at the grocery store and how much he had grown. It was like the last six years had been erased in their minds, the times when Emma was ill and you were at your wit’s end, the pregnancy you had spent constantly sick and deeply depressed–all of it was gone. 

Your mother was imagining a new life for her daughter, a life of being married to the man that gave you Emma and making a dozen more pups in a nicer house, with financial stability. She didn’t know the whole story with Johnny–hardly anyone did. She assumed the two of you had been dating when you had conceived Emma, and you had never thought to tell her differently.

Johnny had never actually wanted you. He was just drunk and about to truly leave the only home he had ever known. And you were right there, tipsy and desperate for his attention. You had missed him like a lost limb when he started ignoring your letters and calls, and seeing him again had brought up all those feelings again. 

But now, he was just setting a trap. He wanted to be in Emma’s life, and when her grandparents, uncle, and various other relatives were on his side…it made your life a lot harder.

Emma nuzzled into your side, sensing your turn in mood. “You smell sad,” she said, her mouth dusted with biscuit crumbs. “You always smell sad.”

Your mother heard her, and seemed to gain some perspective. “When I saw him, I was so angry. I just thought of all the things he had done to you…but then, when I came up to him, he was just so different. He’s a different man than he was all those years ago.”

And you were a different woman. It wasn’t revolutionary to change. 

Emma followed you into your bathroom and watched as you began to primp, perched up on your counter as you brushed your teeth and curled your hair, patting makeup over the purple half-moons under your eyes.

Emma was quiet mostly, sensing the strange mood you were in. She played with your red lipstick and powder, smudging them around her lips. “Careful, it might stain,” you said. “And what will Tom say if you’ve got red all over your face?” “Is Johnny going to be there?” Emma asked hopefully. “He’s fun.”

“Yes, he’s staying at Uncle Tom’s house.”

She nodded, smiling messily at herself in the mirror. “He smells just like me, Mum, and he looks like me too.”

“He’s your father, Em, of course he does.” You blinked hard in the mirror, trying not to cry. “But Mum…” Emma looked at you, her face suddenly serious. “If you don’t like Johnny, I don’t like him either.”

You actually did cry then, bringing your daughter to your chest like you did when she was a baby. You could still remember the day that you first held her in your arms, and all of the heartbreak had seemed worth it. “God, Em, it’s not like I don’t like him,” you said, burying your face in her strawberry-shampoo scented hair. “It’s just…we’re adults, and adults have tricky feelings. I could never dislike Johnny, he gave you to me.” “But you’re so sad when he’s here, we can smell it,” Emma said, sniffling. 

“I’m always sad, Em, I cried every morning I dropped you off at school for months.” That seemed to make her feel better. She snuffled, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Are you going to see the book man?” She asked.

You nodded. “We’re friends, we’re going to go have dinner, maybe see a movie.”

“Good,” she said, wiser than her years. “You never go out.”

She allowed you to wipe the makeup from her mouth without a fuss before your parents ushered her out the door, giving your cheek a slobbery kiss before waving goodbye.

The house was too quiet, so you turned on music, the old crooning stuff that Jack liked. Another half an hour and you were ready, wearing your second-nicest dress and your favorite red heels as you frantically dried your Chanel nail polish. 

Charlie was usually early, but time ticked on well past the time he was supposed to be there. He’s never been late, not in the two years you had known him, not even to work. 

You texted a few times, staring at the screen for a response. He lived in the city, so an accident was well possible–he wouldn’t just ditch you, would he?

Maybe he had forgotten. You did make the plans the week before…

Time ticked on. You gave him a call.

“Hello?” Charlie sounded distracted and irritated. You cleared your throat, “Hey, Charlie, I was just calling to see if we’re still on tonight?” Charlie made an apologetic noise. “Ah, shit, I forgot.”

“Oh,” you said, trying very hard not to sound hurt. 

“Our team had a last minute thing at the bar and I completely forgot about our date, sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

“That’s-that’s alright,” you said, kicking off your heels. 

“Would you like to join us? We’re at the corner bar where the boss had his divorce party.”

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m not really in the mood for a bar,” you said, undoing the clasps to your nice earrings. “Rain check, I suppose.” “I really am sorry,” Charlie said, sounding it. “I can’t believe I forgot.” “I can’t believe it either,” you said, then you hung up. 

You stared at the phone, feeling miserable and very, very sorry for yourself. Of course, the first date in ages and you get tossed up for a group of sweaty, gross men.

You showered, to scrub the makeup and product out of your hair. You might have cried a bit, but that was between you and the water faucet.

[bookishcarmela]

Shadows of Affection

warnings: none

Coriolanus Snow x reader, slight Felix Ravinstill x reader

Chapter 6: mothers warning

Walking out of the citadel, you maintained a facade of calm and composure until you turned a corner and stumbled into an alleyway. Collapsing against the cool bricks, you curled up, trying to make sense of the chaos that unfolded. The sun's harsh rays aggravated your eyes, and your breath came in uneven gasps, a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline coursing through your veins. The recent events left me bewildered — had Clemensia met the same fate as Arachne? Confusion, anger, and fear consumed you. Fear of Dr. Gaul, fear of the Capitol, fear of everything. If those meant to protect you played recklessly with your life, how could you trust anyone? The foundations of trust shattered, leaving me with an unsettling question: How does one survive when trust is a luxury denied.

A surge of bile clawed its way from your stomach to your throat, a visceral response to the overwhelming horror that unfolded. "I don't want this. I never wanted any of this," echoed within you. Arachne's desperate plea for life, Clemensia's piercing screams, and Dr. Gaul's threat reverberated in your mind. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and an agonizing scream clawed at your throat. In that moment, you longed for the comfort of your father, to be cradled in your arms, reassured that everything would be okay. The yearning for solace, love, and the affirmation that the world could still be gentle felt like an ache in your bones.

You sat there, cradling yourself in the aftermath, feeling like hours had passed before summoning the courage to stand. The thought of going to school in your current state was unbearable, so you opted to walk home. The journey was an attempt to compose yourself before facing the dreaded meeting with Quincy. Upon reaching home, you pushed everything deep down, almost as if you could blur out the memories of the harrowing ordeal. Entering your house, you presented yourself with a façade of composure, holding your head high. Christa informed you that Quincy was waiting in his office.

Ascending the stairs, you took a deep breath before opening the door. Quincy sat at a grand mahogany desk in a cream-colored room adorned with old portraits. He wore a tailored suit, engrossed in scattered papers. Behind him, a tall bookcase held ancient-looking books, and the room carried the faint scent of old leather and sandalwood. It exuded an air of calm refinement, a space for focused work and deep thought. Despite the serene surroundings, an overwhelming hatred for Quincy simmered within you. This office, once your father's, now occupied by Quincy, felt like an intrusion—a desecration of your family's legacy. He, an impostor, a new money nobody, acting as if he owned the place, stirred a profound sense of disgust within you.

As you fully entered Quincy's study, meeting his cold stare head-on. He reclined in his chair, eyeing you with disdain. “Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Out all night, I hear? Care to explain where you vanished to?”

You stood tall, offering a sly smile. “Missed me, Quincy?”

Quincy chuckled, dripping with condescension. “Ah, the rebel speaks. Remember, young lady, you’re under my roof now. My rules apply here. I won’t have you gallivanting around all hours of the night.”

you, met Quincy's gaze with a smirk. “Oh, I’m well aware,” you retorted, your voice laced with subtle sarcasm. “But let's get it straight, Quincy. This isn’t your house; it’s my father’s. You're just another fleeting presence, new money in old walls, trying to act like somebody.”

Quincy's demeanor shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Watch your tone—”

“Tone?” you interrupted. “There’s nothing wrong with my tone. But there’s everything wrong with a nobody like you trying to play the lord of the manor in someone else’s estate. You’re just a tiny blip in a grand legacy, Quincy. Remember that.”

“Our little princess thinks she’s clever,” he remarked with a smirk. “But remember, Y/n, time’s ticking. One day you’ll be out of here, and then we’ll see how far your wits take you.”

Your smirk mirrored his. “Add 'escaping a palace of egos' to my list of talents, Quincy. Consider it a challenge.” With your confidence unshaken, you turned on your heel, leaving Quincy stewing in his chair.

After the small victory in a day filled with horror, you convinced yourself that you deserved the small reward of a nap. As soon as you entered your room, you collapsed onto your bed and fell into a deep sleep. What was intended to be a short nap turned into a long slumber. When you finally woke up, the sun had already set, and the house was shrouded in silence, indicating everyone else was asleep. Making your way downstairs, you headed to the kitchen.

As you padded into the kitchen for water, you stumbled upon your mother, swaying slightly with an expensive bottle of wine in hand. Your mother's gaze fixated on you, her words slurred. "Where were you last night? You can't just go around doing whatever you want."

you, exhausted and caught off guard, retorted with a sharp tongue,

 "I'm merely following your example, Mother. Trying to keep up with your illustrious standards."Your mother's eyes narrowed, her words biting.

 "Don't get cheeky with me, Y/n. Why were you with the Snow boy?" Your surprise was evident. "How do you know that?" you demanded. 

Your mother chuckled, a mocking laugh. "The maids saw you come home in clothes that weren't yours. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. So, I'll ask again, What were you doing with that boy?"Attempting to deny it, You were swiftly interrupted. 

"I'm not oblivious, Y/n," Your mother interjected firmly. "I know what happens outside this house. You should steer clear of Coriolanus and focus on Felix." Your frustration boiled over. "I'm not interested in Felix like that," you protested. Your mother persisted, warning you of the dangers. 

"Coriolanus is bad for you. You're walking down a dangerous path. You only like him because he challenges you, you see a part of yourself in him, but he's just like his father—full of nothing but hate." Your temper flared. 

"You don't know anything about him or me!"

"I know more than you think," your mother countered, her voice edged with regret. 

"You're just like me, Y/n. We're alike, and I made that mistake with your father. Don't be a fool. Marry Felix; it's safer to marry someone who loves you more than you love them."Anger and hurt flooded you, and you stormed out, seething, leaving your mother's words hanging in the air, unspoken retorts lingering on your tongue.

Despite it being a Saturday, the entire student body convened for homeroom before assembling on the Academy's front steps for Arachne Crane's funeral. Draped in a slim knee-length black dress beneath a tasteful black coat, you adorned yourself with a string of white pearls. As everyone filed in, you scanned the somber crowd, searching for the familiar faces of Sejanus and Coriolanus. It didn't take long before spotting them, but as you moved toward them, a hand gently but firmly intercepted yours, pulling you back. You turned to see Felix, and your mind echoed the conversation with your mother, her cautionary words ringing clear: "Don't repeat my mistake."

As Felix greeted you, with his signature smile "Y/n, you look absolutely captivating today, even amidst such a solemn occasion."

Caught slightly off guard but appreciating the gesture, you asked, "Did you need something, Felix?"

He responded with a charming grin, "Just ensuring you have the best seat in the house." He mentioned he had secured a seat for you next to him, to which you expressed gratitude.

Placing a reassuring hand on the small of your back, he guided you toward the seating area. Glancing back toward where Sejanus and Coriolanus sat, your gaze faltered for a moment before you refocused on Felix.

Surprisingly, you bypassed all the other seats, and you hesitated, "Felix, we just passed all the seats." He chuckled softly, "Yes, because you're sitting with me."

Your protests about seating arrangements in areas reserved for government officials and the president's family were met with Felix's warm smile, "Well, I'm the president's son, and I want 

you by my side. Who's to say I can't arrange that?" He led you confidently up toward the stage where the president presided.

As you sat beside Felix, looking out above the assembly, you couldn't deny the allure of the situation. Above the crowd, by Felix's side, thoughts stirred within you. Maybe being with someone like Felix wouldn't be as dire as you imagined. He was handsome, kind, and his status would ensure security, shielding you from the turmoil I'd known. Contemplating a future with him, you entertained the notion that perhaps this could be the right path for you.

In the midst of contemplating a future secured by Felix's charm and status, you found your certainty faltering when you locked eyes with Coriolanus. His disapproving gaze, unaffected by Sejanus's conversation beside him, pierced through you. Yet, you maintain your composure, meeting his stare head-on. He had no right to scrutinize you, especially considering his own entanglement with his little songbird, just as you sought solace with Felix. Maybe, reluctantly, your mother was right—Coriolanus and you weren't meant to be. President Ravenstill's words interrupted your thoughts, honoring the life of Arachne Crane and emphasizing the Capitol's justice to Panem.

The funeral procession emerged, showcasing the Capitol's power. The Peacekeepers, flawless and imposing, marched in unity, followed by a truck bearing the body of the fallen District 10 tribute, Brandy. The remaining tributes, chained and desolate, reminded everyone of the Capitol's dominance over the districts.

The sight of Brandy evoked haunting memories of Arachne's desperate pleas for life. Felix's reassuring grip on your hand offered comfort, a silent promise that things would be alright despite the grim circumstances.

After the funeral concluded, classes resumed their routine, yet Satyria gathered the twenty-two active mentors for an urgent briefing. She revealed that not only were the Hunger Games proceeding, but they were expected to be the most publicized yet. To amplify visibility, the mentors were tasked with guiding their tributes on an arena tour later that afternoon. Although you weren't a mentor, you would substitute for Dr. Gaul, functioning as an insider to scrutinize the arena and observe the mentor-tribute dynamics, reporting your findings back to her.

Despite the air of reluctance among your classmates, none dared to voice concerns; several parents had lodged complaints about inadequate security post-Arachne's death, yet silence prevailed to avoid appearing cowardly. You couldn't shake the feeling of danger and recklessness surrounding the plan. What prevented other tributes from turning on their mentors? However, you kept your reservations to yourself. A cynical part of you speculated whether Dr. Gaul was secretly hoping for another display of violence to publicly penalize another tribute, perhaps even live on camera. 

As you stepped out into the sweltering heat, the scene before you unfolded like a grim tableau. The tributes, shackled and guarded, formed a stark line, their presence a stark reminder of the Capitol's unyielding grip. Without a tribute of your own, you positioned yourself beside Professor Sickle, your gaze shifting between the tributes and the boarded-up booths, relics of a time long gone.

The Peacekeepers orchestrated the movements with precision, unlocking the colossal doors to reveal a cavernous lobby. A sense of desolation hung heavy in the air, the remnants of an era left behind by conflict and upheaval. As you ventured deeper into the building, you observed the faded posters and abandoned booths, once vibrant but now tainted by neglect. In the midst of the grandeur marking the Royce family's entrance, a set of dusty turnstiles stood forgotten nearby. These old-fashioned barriers demanded a Capitol token for access, a stark contrast to the exclusive entryway marked by a velvet rope. You couldn't shake the sense of distinction—the other entry seemed for everyday visitors, while the Royce box held comforts from a time when your father was present.

The stark division in the arena was evident. The Royce area boasted luxuries like air-conditioning and plush seats, reminiscent of better days. On the other hand, the Bradford box emitted a vibe of new wealth, exuding an almost obnoxious display of affluence that you found distasteful. The contrast felt overwhelming, amplifying the disparities within the arena. 

your early experiences at the arena were marked by childhood visits to the circus and military events led by your father. For nearly a decade, you'd watched the Games from the Braford box, yet nothing quite matched the overwhelming feeling when you stepped onto the field through the main gate.

The sheer size and grandeur of the arena amazed both mentors and tributes, leaving them breathless in the face of such decayed magnificence. The towering rows of seats made you feel minuscule, a mere drop in an ocean, an unnoticed presence amid the colossal setting. The arrival of camera crews snapped you back to reality, and you adopted the composed demeanor of a Royce, portraying an air of indifference to the spectacle around you.

As you surveyed the arena, nothing particularly noteworthy caught your attention. The decrepit grandeur held no secrets or revelations to report back to Dr. Gaul. Dismissing the lack of interest, you spotted Felix among the mentors and made your way towards him, your footsteps echoing faintly in the colossal space.

Joining him, you said, "Quite a different perspective from down here, isn't it? The raw reality of the Games without the comfort of the boxes."

Felix nodded, his eyes still on the tributes. "Indeed. It's a stark contrast to the polished image we're used to."

Your conversation took a turn as Felix, with a playful grin, remarked, "You know, Y/n, it might be interesting to experience the Games from this angle more often."

you arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in your eyes. "Is that so?"

Felix leaned in slightly, his tone flirtatious. "How about dinner after this? A change of scenery, perhaps?"

you hesitated for a moment, thoughts of Coriolanus flickering in your mind. Yet, a reminder of your mother's words lingered –always marry someone that loves you more than you love them. Suppressing conflicting emotions, you smiled at Felix. 

"Sure, dinner sounds wonderful."

As you continued to watch the tributes below, you wrestled with your feelings, determined to prioritize your future over the complexities of your heart.

For a moment you smiled, letting a blush show on your cheeks, forgetting where you were, how depressing the backdrop. For a moment there was just felix's smile, and the hint of flirtation in it.

Then the world exploded.