#God from Gods Mad Lab

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[misskitxx]

Throwback to this absolutely heartbreaking banger

“Where is his cane? He can’t walk without his cane—“ Jayce babbles frantically as he rummages through the rubble. His fingers bleed, and his breath is uneven—he’s close to sobbing, and tears are, frankly, obscuring his vision, but he pays it no mind. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters—nothing but him, in that damned chamber.

Mel watches him, and her chest constricts. She places a gentle hand on Jayce’s shoulder, but it does little to nothing to snap him out of his single-minded pursuit.

“Jayce—“

“He— Oh god, when he wakes up, he will be so mad,” Jayce attempts a laugh, rubbing his eyes. They sting—from both the dust and tears. Mel keeps silent, not daring to interrupt. She can’t. Not when Jayce has that desperate, panicked look inched into his features.

“Yes!” Jayce exclaims finally, noticing the glare of the shiny tip of the cane. He has designed it, after all—he would recognize it anywhere. “I- God, I put it somewhere once—in the lab, and he—“ Jayce goes through the memories, not caring of the tears and sheer desperation that radiates off him. He grasps the cane, pulling it out of the rubble—it’s a little chipped, but nothing he can’t fix for Viktor.

Just like him - the thought flashes through his mind, and Jayce shudders.

[nightingale-prompts]

Do NOT Touch a God- DC x DP Prompt (Tim x Danny)

Correction: don't touch Danny.

A rule has been added to the house rules of Titans Tower. It started after the arrival of the summoning of the interdimensional teen that takes residence there.

Despite being only a teenager the power he held was at the level of a god. He causally reshaped reality around him to his liking. Rooms are made bigger on the inside but remain the same outside. Danny's hate for things getting too dirty made all clothes left on the floor for too long disappear into the laundry room and spilled drinks evaporate. The tower became self-cleaning as everything found its place on its own. Danny said it was just what he prefers, lab safety and all that. Sometimes Danny would turn off gravity, no reason be just likes it like that.

Unfortunately, he doesn't go on missions except for extreme situations where he is needed. He is content to spend his time in the med bay as the resident healer. He is also one of the few that can fix up Cyborg. Danny doesn't get involved unnecessarily. This has led to a few arguments in the past over how unhelpful he can be despite being able to help them. Danny shrugs it off and disappears when it happens. It was not fair on him, if he didn't want to fight he shouldn't have to. He was an asset and he offered his help freely.

So why does the No Touch rule exist? Well, Danny doesn't like touching people. He wears gloves for a reason especially when he is working in the bay fixing up everyone after a mission. He also avoids others touching him, shrinking away when someone tried.

Everyone respected that boundary but after a rough mission in particular Kon started an argument with him. The injuries were severe and he was just mad that M'gann was hurt. Danny was already overwhelmed with healing everyone and Kon seemed to strike a nerve. When Kon almost made contact with him Danny flickered out of existence and reappeared further away.

After several hours of fixing broken bones and open wounds Danny retreated.

Tim decided to check on him later. Kon was sorry for overreacting and blaming Danny for something he couldn't control but Danny probably didn't want to see him right now.

Danny looked worse for wear when he opened the door. He looked tired, weary from using his energy. He wrapped a blanket around himself.

They talked for a while. Mostly about nothing important, other times about how stressful things were right now.

Tim often found it hard to believe that Danny wasn't just a normal teen. Then again, what did he know about normal?

But he had wondered something.

He reached out and tried to hold Danny's hand but Danny moved away quickly noticing.

"You shouldn't do that." He said simply.

Had he been Dick he would repect the boundaries and if he was Jason he'd probably agree. But he was Tim and Tim was very bad at boundaries. That's kind of how he got here.

"Why not?" Tim asked.

"It might be too much," Danny said cautiously eyeing Tim who held his hands up.

"Try me."

Danny sighed and removed one of his gloves and touched his hand to Tim's shoulder.

All at once different sensations filled his senses. A comforting touch of a friend, a light fluttering of a passing stranger on the street, a strike of a hated rival, the steady hand of a family member, the playful tap of a classmate, the caress of a lover...all at once. Each feeling is defined but also blurred. It was almost like being pulled in thousands of directions as they tried to claim a part of Tim into their reality.

A single touch sent him into a trace. When Danny pulled away he expected to have broken Tim like how a child accidentally snaps their toys when playing. He knew his touch could overwhelm people almost to death. Clockwork said he'd be able to control it some day but Danny didn't even want to test it. Being able to fracture someone's mind was scary. Seeing it happen once was enough. So why did he try it on Tim? Did he not care what happened to him?

It's a bit selfish and embarrassing to admit but...not being able to touch another person was awful. He's not clingy but it feels like he has lacked sensation for a long time. Tim willingly asked for this and Danny wanted this as well.

Tim wasn't broken. Infact he had never felt more alive. When Danny removed his hand he found himself pulling it back to him. He couldn't explain it but it felt like...everything. Indescribable but amazing. It was contradictory but all of it made sense.

"Do it again!"

Things kind of escalated from there. It would probably be crass to even say it but let's just say that neither was lacking sensation. It was profound, not purely physical nor emotional, something else entirely. The religious sort would call it divine or a blessing, perhaps it was what heaven feels like. Others would call it sinful, partaking in things no human was meant to know or experience. The folly of humanity.

It was certainly addictive though. Whispered words echoed in every tongue. With every contact a new chorus created. The memories of long dead god flashed and worlds yet unawakened showed themselves. And just when it seemed like everything in the universe had collided and finally made sense...it was over.

There was a knock on the door.

Danny managed to roll the breathless, Tim off with a groan. He stretched feeling a bit locked up. He had been holding each other for a while now.

He opened the door and saw Kon standing there nervously.

"Look, Im sorr-"

"Danny?" Tim called out groggily interrupting whatever Kon was saying.

"I'm busy," Danny said quickly closing the door to go back to...you know.

(So were they having sex or just cuddling? I have no fucking idea and I wrote this. I feel like it's a secret third that is somehow worse.)

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [6]

Weapon design always came easy to Jack Fenton. He grew up with it, all the way back in Atlantis, when he was just a little guppy.

What he wasn’t aware of at the time was that his parents were from a long and prestigious line of scientists and weapon manufacturers in Atlantean society. But things had been getting dangerous. 

The King at the time cast them out when they refused his demands of greater, stronger, deadlier weapons. The kind of weapons they knew would not only destroy their enemies, but themselves as well.

They fled and went where they thought they would never be found, the surface.

Jack had the easiest time adapting, being as young as he was getting used to breathing air was a lot less of a struggle. 

He adopted one of the most generic male names he could, and adapted the family name of Fenestratus into Fenton. And then it was just living as a human, as humanly as possible, nothing to see here.

By now Jack basically doesn’t know any better. but this piece of heritage is coming back now all these years later, when his son is looking to him for help from the government.

But first he holds his boy close and apologizes, because he sees the fear, and he understands a little too well, and he doesn’t like the picture he’s seeing now that all the puzzle pieces are falling into place.

“I almost became the thing I hate the most. I’m so sorry Danny, I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe in your own home”

The hug is long and warm and tight and Danny isn’t ashamed to admit he might have clung a little bit.

Then Jack holds Danny tightly by his shoulders and gives him a big grin, “Good news though, you’re only half ghost, the other half is not only human but also Atlantean, and there are laws protecting us now” Jack mutters to himself, “I wonder if the whole ghost stuff would actually be put under the meta protection thing… hmm”

Danny blinks for a moment, Jazz gapes, Maddie is suddenly no longer spiraling about how her baby boy got in a terrible accident in their lab and she didn’t know.

“I’m also what?”

“Dad!?”

“oh did I forget to mention that? I thought I did, I know for certain that I had been meaning to”

“Jack sweetie, are you-”

“oh yes, and I remember now, I decided to tell you after our big breakthrough because I didn’t want to distract you, and-” Jack looks sheepish, “I hope you aren’t too mad at me Maddiecakes”

“mad? oh I would never be mad at you about this but we could have- I don’t know, accommodated- Atlanteans are aquatic, well I guess that explains how you could always put away so much water, and when you gave me your umbrella and I thought you were just making an excuse when you told me you didn’t mind and in fact loved getting pelted by the rain-”

Maddie goes on, and Jack thinks to himself that this is exactly the reason why he kept it to himself at the time, Maddie never half asses anything, he’s sure a lot of things are going to change in the house now, it honestly only makes him fall in love with her even more.

Meanwhile Jazz had filled up a bucket of water and then dunked her head in, then came back out not even slightly gasping for breath, just saying “oh my god” over and over.

Danny timed it, “yeah okay, I guess that proves it. now I’m starting to wonder if my weird relationship with air is ghost related at all”

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 9

At the Justice League Watchtower.

Diana: Good morning everyone and thank you for coming to this pronto meeting. I known we all have busy schedules so I'll make this quick. Bruce, Clark, and I have been investigating an operation by Lex Luthor. He has been moving round large amounts of radioactive material to a secret lab in the Sahara Desert, we currently do not know what he is planning but last night the radioactivity around the base spiked. We believe that there was some leak of the radioactive materials and we need a plan to contain it.

J'ohn: Are there any civilians in the region?

Clark: No, the lab is far out into the desert. The closest town is a small village with a population of about 1000 people an hour and a half away.

Hal: I could but up a temporary shield around the lab and try to contain the radiation as much as possible.

Bruce: That would be a good start.

Arthur: This is concerning, how can I help?

Diana: There is another shipment currently on a Lexcorp boat heading towards a port in Algiers we need you to stop it.

Bruce: Oliver, you will help Arthur take control of the ship.

Oliver: Got it.

Diana: Barry, while we believe the town and its residents will be safe, we'd like to keep you on stand by just in case.

Barry: Yes ma'am!

Diana: That's all from us. Now that we are together we should start making a solid plan, we start this operation 10pm, local time in Algeria. That gives us 8 hours to prepare. Any questions?

Oliver: Just one question, who's Bruce's new kid?

Everyone turned to look at Danny.

Danny: Hi!

Bruce: This is Danny, alias Phantom, he's Jason's kid... and my grandson.

Barry (laughing): Congratulations Bruce, you're a thirty-four-year-old grandfather.

Arthur: Is he helping us with the operation?

Diana: Yes, Danny is half-ghost and immune to radiation, he'll be helpful if the radiation levels are higher than we expect.

J'onn: You have a quite mind young one.

Danny: If I let you read my thoughts there's a fifty-fifty chance your brain may get scrambled.

J'onn: I see...

Billy: I'm here! Sorry I'm late, just had to finish something before I could leave- Billy looked around the room till he saw Danny. He jumped back and covered his ears.

Clark: You ok there Billy?

Billy: Who is that kid?

Danny: I'm Bruce's grandson.

Billy: ...

Clark: Why?

J'ohn: The gods in Billy's mind all just screamed bloody murder and told him that under no circumstances, should he make Danny mad.

Everyone looked at Danny but before anyone could ask question Constantine walked in.

Constantine: You known if you're going to call a random meeting at least give us more than 3 hours to get ready- Constantine froze when he saw Danny. Shit...

Danny (grinning): Constantine!

Bruce: You two know each other?

Danny: Yes, he's the fool that sold his sold his soul to a hundred separate demons who are all now petition me to decide who actually owns his soul.

Constantine: ...

Hal: Why would they petition you?

Danny: I'm their king.

JL: What!?

Danny: And another thing Constantine, come over here. A green light encircled Constantine throwing him across the room, placing down in a chair next to Danny. You didn't pay your taxes for the last tax season.

Constantine: I- your majesty, I'm not a citizen of the Infinite Realms.

Danny: Actually you are! Danny summoned a scroll. According to section 8, subsection 45, clause B of the Infinite Realms Citizenship and Nationality Status Governing Deaths, Resurrections, and All Other Avoidances of Death Act, also known as the IRCNSGDRAOADA, due to your soul being more than 80% owned by citizens of the Infinite Realms, you too are a citizen of the Infinite Realms, and thus have to pay taxes.

Constantine: I-

Danny: You owe the Crown, aka me, $25,000.

Constantine (nervous): Would your majesty be so kind as to wave my taxes for this year, given I did not know I had to pay?

Danny: I'll give you... 120 days to come up with the money, if not I'll send the tax collectors after you.

Constantine (terrified): You- you're too kind your majesty. Constantine picked up a folder from the table. I'll just read the report... I- got to go. Constantine left the room.

Bruce (tired): Danny...

Danny: I was joking, I'll wave the his missing taxes.

Hal: Why is he so scared of tax collectors?

Danny: The tax collectors in the Infinite Realms are not just nerds with suitcases, they are nerds with suitcases that also carry paintball guns.

J'onn: Paintball guns?

Danny: The paint will never come off till you pay your taxes.

Berry: That sounds so fun!

Arthur: I'm happy to have another king on the team. Finally I have some to talk to about the duties of ruling.

Danny: Tell me about it, for some reason, people can't just do as their told.

Arthur (crying): You understand me my pain.

Clark: Where does your family find these children?

Bruce: We don't find them, they find us!

Diana: As fun as this whole conversation is we do need to prepare for the mission. Let's get to work.

JL: Yes ma'am!

(Master Post)

[hy6erion]

viktor and jayce fighting over you??

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞

⇢ 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐨

1. The Scientific Method (or How to Win You Over)

It starts subtly—at least, as subtle as Jayce can manage.

“You know,” he says, leaning against your desk, broad shoulders blocking your view of the latest schematics, “I was thinking—you and I should go out sometime. Just the two of us. For research purposes.”

You don’t even have time to process before Viktor, seated across from you, speaks without looking up from his own work.

“Research into what? The effects of secondhand embarrassment?”

Jayce shoots him a glare. “Into team bonding, Viktor.”

“Mm. And what hypothesis are you testing? That you can single-handedly drive them to madness?” Viktor hums, scratching something in his notes. “A bold assumption, but I suppose it is not entirely unfounded.”

Jayce turns back to you, ignoring him. “Dinner. Drinks. Maybe some—”

“A headache,” Viktor mutters.

Jayce groans, running a hand down his face before pointing at you. “You. Pick a side here.”

You exhale, setting down your pen. “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about.”

“We aren’t arguing,” Viktor says at the same time Jayce huffs, “We are arguing.”

You stare at them both. They stare at each other.

This has been happening for weeks.

It’s not always this obvious—sometimes it’s in the little things, the way Viktor always ensures your coffee is warm but lets Jayce suffer with whatever’s left in the pot. Or how Jayce somehow always has an extra set of tools whenever you’re missing yours, grinning like he wasn’t just waiting for the opportunity.

And the way they bicker—gods, it never ends.

“Fine,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Jayce, we can do dinner. And Viktor, you can join.”

Jayce groans, throwing his head back. “Not the third-wheel invitation—”

“I accept,” Viktor interrupts smoothly.

Jayce turns to him, expression wounded. “Dude.”

“You do not own them, Jayce.”

“Neither do you!”

Viktor just smiles.

You take another sip of your coffee. This is going to be a long night.

2. The Art of Winning (or Just Being Petty)

“Y/n, my dearest, most trusted lab partner,” Viktor says, sidling up next to you while you’re examining some blueprints. “You are an artist of unparalleled skill. Would you mind assisting me with some designs?”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can answer, Jayce materializes from across the room.

“Woah, woah, hold on, I was just about to ask them for help.”

Viktor tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Just about to? How convenient.”

Jayce narrows his eyes. “You knew I was gonna ask them—”

“Mm. And yet, I asked first.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Time is linear, Jayce. Surely you understand this.”

Jayce looks ready to explode.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You both know I have other work to do, right?”

They don’t. They definitely don’t.

But Jayce recovers first, flashing you his most charming smile. “C’mon, you know I have the bigger project right now—”

“Size does not determine quality, Jayce,” Viktor interrupts. “By that logic, your brain should be much more effective.”

Jayce’s jaw drops. “Did you just—?”

“Mm?” Viktor takes a slow sip of his tea.

You sigh, turning away before you witness a murder. “I’m flipping a coin. Heads, I help Jayce. Tails, I help Viktor.”

Jayce’s shoulders relax. “That seems fair.”

Viktor hums, noncommittal.

You flip. The coin lands. You glance at it.

Then, you slap it onto your palm before either of them can see and say, “I’m helping myself today.”

Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, and Jayce groans, dropping his head onto the nearest surface.

“Brilliant,” Viktor murmurs. “I am rubbing off on you.”

Jayce mumbles something into the desk. You pat his shoulder in consolation before walking away, leaving them to their stalemate.

3. The Heart of the Matter (Or: Maybe They’re Not as Subtle as They Think)

At some point, you begin to wonder if they even know what they’re fighting over.

Because it’s not just lab work. It’s not just projects, or coffee, or who gets to sit next to you during meetings.

It’s you.

And they’re both smart enough to know it, even if neither of them says it outright.

It’s in the way Jayce’s gaze lingers whenever you laugh, like he’s memorizing the sound. The way Viktor’s voice softens when he murmurs your name, careful, like he knows the weight it holds.

It’s in how they both wait for you at the end of the day, pretending it’s just coincidence.

It’s in the way Viktor watches Jayce’s arm brush against yours and says nothing, but his fingers tighten around his cane. In how Jayce watches Viktor pull you in to murmur something close and he says nothing, but his jaw tenses.

It’s in the way neither of them will ever say it—but neither of them will yield, either.

And you?Well.

You just let them fight.

[spatialwave]

licked clean.

➸ ask: ““Watching in awe as your partner slides their finger into their mouth with your cum on it.” For Jayce please😭seriously love your blog!!” ➸ pairing: jayce talis x fem!reader ➸ word count: 719 ➸ tags: mdni! smut, porn w/o plot, cunnilingus, just pure filth ok? ➸ notes: i lied to your faces about not having anymore posts this week loooool. i desperately needed to get this written kdsjgdfgssl

“Fuck—” your voice cracked, echoing off the walls of Jayce’s lab, empty save for you two. You sat atop his desk, research notes pushed hastily aside, with your back against the tabletop. With spread legs, you gave him everything he’d been aching for all day.

His tongue flicked at your clit greedily, throbbing and shooting electricity through the tightened muscles in your legs. Large, calloused hands kept your thighs apart as he feasted, filthy groans vibrating against your cunt as he lapped you up and tasted the desire dripping from your folds.

You were his favourite meal, easily eating you out for hours if he could spare the time. He loved how you squirmed under his touch, how his warm breath against your heat curled your toes. Tasting you was addictive; your scent drove him fucking mad.

“You like that?” He asked lowly, eyes flicking up to see the way your hands grabbed hastily at your breasts, squeezing and pulling at your nipples with nimble fingers—putting on a show for your lover.

You wanted to answer, but he sucked on your clit, and all you managed to sputter out was a cry that caught on your tongue. He moved lower to lick along your slit, tongue delving into the tight muscles of your cunt, nose brushing against your clit with each push of his muscle inside you. An overwhelming amount of ecstasy shot through you, your back arching until your hips ached.

“Oh, Jayce—,” you pleaded, eyes rolling back into your head as a hand flew to his hair, providing you with the support to grind your face against his inviting mouth. The friction and pressure sent you to the edge, your heels digging into his shoulders. "I-I’m going to cum—”

He pulled his lips back at the mere mention of your climax, grinning at the way you whined and tried to chase his mouth, but his hands kept you pinned in place.

“Let me savour you,” he purred, chaste kisses ghosting along the skin of your inner thighs as you held back the urge to thrash and whine. For your good behaviour, he slipped two fingers inside your neglected cunt that was begging to be fucked and pulled in the digits deftly, “Fuck, you’re easy.”

“Jayce–” you whimpered, gasping at the way his fingers curled against your g-spot. Calculated movements as his other hand worked over your clit. Four fingers rubbed back and forth over the bundle of nerves with a delicate touch. The edging had left you devastatingly overstimulated, thighs twitching and fearing you’d have to pull away, “Gods, you asshole—”

He chuckled, the sound low in his chest and sending shivers up your spine as he fucked you with his fingers.

“So rude,” he teased, licking over his teeth as he worked his fingers in and out. Circling your clit with his thumb for consistent pressure and earning mewls of pleasure rolling from your lips. His eyes were bright, watching eagerly as he could feel your walls clenching tight around his digits, your release so fucking close. “Look at me when you cum.”

Fuck.

You forced yourself up on unsteady elbows, looking at him for the first time since he had been on his knees for you. His stubble was coated in your juices, a fevered look in his eyes that sent heat to your tummy. 

It hit you like a tonne of bricks. A high-pitched moan choking in your throat as you came–hard. Your thighs tried to squeeze together as your hips stuttered violently from the surge of pleasure washing over you, but he stopped you. His eyes focused on your cunt that convulsed around his fingers, your creamy cum coating his fingers as he coaxed it out of you with practiced precision.

“Good girl,” he murmured affectionately, eyes locking onto yours as his fingers pulled from your pussy once your hips steadied. You watched wide-eyed and frozen, his sticky fingers lifting to his lips. The way he sucked on his fingers was fucking decadent, moaning thickly as he licked the cum from his digits until they were clean—not once breaking eye contact with you.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, cheeks burning hot and watching in awe at the vulgar display.

“Not done yet,” Jayce huffed when he finished, pressing forward and licking your cunt clean.

[bitchface24-7]

Hiii! How are you? I hope you had a wonderful day. Now, I'm here with an idea, I was thinking what if Jayce (and maybe Viktor, but I don't know how to make it work) traveled to another reality, like Ekko, but in this reality nothing of what happened happened. I mean, yeah, the explosion happens and blah blah blah, but in this world reader doesn't die (I love angst I'm sorry) and that helps Viktor not turn into the herald and try to kill everyone. I don't know, just a thought, you can use it to inspire yourself or not, that's perfectly fine. If you do write it thank you, and if you do not thank you anyways. Love your blog, keep on like that 😘

THE ONE’S THAT GOT AWAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Jayce isn’t sure how he got here. Did the older Viktor he met who was a mage cast the spell wrong, was it when he and Viktor accepted fate in the cosmos, or was it his gift from the gods he no longer believes in, bringing him back to the two most important people in his life. One of them he died with. The other died much earlier.

warnings: MCD undeath (you're all alive now, hurrah! But the death with be mentioned), Jayce thinking he’s gone mad, crying, comfort, a world where EVERYONE IS ALIVE, poor Jayce; we’re so mean to him. Plot twist… Grammarly is my beta.

genre: m/f or m/m (with a realization of m/m/f or m/m/m)

p.s. Y'all just like putting my boy through the ringer!! Hopefully, he gets his peace here.

Jayce is scared. He's only in his early thirties and he's going to die. Everything is destroyed, their lab, their dreams, their future. All blowing in the wind like ashes, and the ground is stained with blood.

This was never supposed to happen. Hextech was meant to improve lives not become… what it became. You, Jayce, and Viktor were supposed to live long, happy lives. Maybe move out of the city, find a small town and live in a cozy cottage. Or even find a nice house in Piltover where you're in prime real estate. The markets and transit not too far from us.

But all of that is dead now. You died from a dormant virus in your body, it was waiting to strike when you were most happy. Your family has had it in their bloodline for years; and you didn't tell anyone.

You died in your sleep, painlessly, peacefully. Neither Jayce or Viktor knew until they went to your apartment to check on you, it wasn't like you to not come into the lab, not unless you told them before hand.

It was almost like you were sleeping. Your face was at ease, your body stiff. Jayce could lie to himself and say you were in a deep sleep, but he knew the truth. You were dead. Your chest wasn't moving, you were cold to the touch, and there was no pulse.

Viktor stood there horrified, before trying his best to find some sign of life. The more he looked, the more desperate he became. Jayce was frozen. He had finally asked you out on a date, it happened just a few days ago. You shared a kiss. Now you're dead.

Jayce silently walks to the home-phone attached to your wall and calls an ambulance, explains the situation in the most monotone voice he's ever produced, and quietly hangs the phone up; not even hearing what the phone opperator told him.

But he does hear Viktor crying, his hand over his mouth muffling sobs. Jayce walks over to him on autopilot and hugs him as tightly as he can and Viktor collapses into his arms.

They don't move until the paramedics come.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After that, everything went downhill. Sky went missing, Hextech was made into weaponry, he and Viktor’s relationship became strained, the council room explodes due to a bomb, Viktor dies, Jayce breaks his promise to destroy the hexcore, he uses it to revive Viktor, turns out Sky died due to the hexcore.

Viktor leaves.

And Jayce is all alone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor's become a herald of some kind; a messiah. Healing the ill and injured in the Under— Zaun. He talks to Jayce through Salo, mentions all his accomplishments, and wishes he had this power back then to save you.

Jayce winces.

He kills Salo and goes to the commune, he kills Viktor.

Then the Machine Herald is born.

Viktor tries to get Jayce to be his partner again, desperately missing him, and you. It doesn't work.

They fight, they reunite, they die together in a massive glow of white.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce jolts up from his bed, frantically patting his face and his body. What the hell is going on?

He's alive? How is he alive?! He died with Viktor in the cosmos, he shouldn't be here right now! He's panicking until a familiar hum interrupts his thoughts.

“Hi, sweetheart! I know those meetings with the council are exhausting so I brought your coffee to yo— what happened?!” You gasp, and Jayce bursts into tears. You place the mug of coffee onto the dresser and rush over to Jayce to hug him.

You're here too, you're alive. Your hair is the same, your smile is still blindingly bright, and your signature scent washes over Jayce as he sobs even harder; barely breathing.

“Oh Jayce whats wrong? Was it a nightmare? You don't have to tell me, I'm right here. I'll always be here.”

Jayce’s cries become much louder at that and you start to panic. You've never seen Jayce cry like this— ever. This is gut-wrenching to see, and you're gonna need another set of hands to help you.

“Viktor! A little assistance please!”

Jayce's cries stop momentarily but pick up when the other man enters the bedroom. He's here too. He's alive too. And he looks so good, so healthy. He still has prominent cheek bones, and he still has dark circles under his eyes; but he looks like when Jayce first met him, if not even healthier. His posture is much better, his leg brace is gone, but he's still using his cane. His hair is longer too, with the blonde highlights he briefly saw before his chest was caved in due to his hammer.

A look of confusion sits on the mans face before a brief look of understanding flashes by. So quickly that if you blinked, you would've missed it.

“Oh my loves, what’s happened?” Viktor quietly asks as he goes to Jayce's other side, completing the goup hug. Jayce has never felt more safe as he has between you two.

“I don't know,” you state, a worried furrow of your brow gives away how scared you are, “I just came into the room and he broke down. Maybe it was a nightmare?”

Viktor nods before looking imploringly at Jayce, “Maybe it could be he’s been bottling everything up and finally reached his breaking point?”

Jayce squirms under the truthful accusation, and looks anywhere but to the two of you, “Jayce! You're allowed to come to us when you need it! I thought we agreed, no more suffering in silence.”

A light shrug is what you get for your reprimand, “Its a hard habit to break.”

You coo and run you hand through his dark hair, his beard tickles your nose when you kiss his cheek, “I know sweetheart, but we’re here for you. How about this,” you offer, “I make your favourite breakfast, Viktor stays here with you and then we all eat together. Sound good?”

Jayce wants to say no. He just got you back, and he can't handle losing you again, but at Viktors look— one he's well acquainted with when he wants to talk in private. He gives in and agrees to your bargain.

You give both of them a kiss on the forehead and leave the bedroom. Keeping the door open so you can hear them if they need anything from you.

Jayce sniffles and looks at Viktor, Viktor looks back at him in understanding. “You weren't expecting this, huh? Neither was I. Luckily for me I had my panic attack last night. I was able to find journals to read to realize where I was.”

“You’re my Viktor?”

“I’m your Viktor.”

Jayce sighs, “Where the hell are we, Viktor? They're alive. We’re in a room I’ve never seen before. You're the healthiest I've ever seen you, and your hair is different.”

“What did you think about before dying?”

A long silence is held before Jayce demurely responds, “A world where the three of us were happy. In the perfect house with our perfect lives. Nothing major has gone wrong, nobodies died, there was no war, Hextech succeeded. You know… the usual.”

Viktor just looks at the man and hugs him tightly, brushing his nose into the crook of his neck, “I thought along the same line. Now we’re here; I guess this is our happy ending? For all the pain and suffering we went through.”

Jayce sighs, he feels a headache forming, “Isn’t this wrong? We’re not… we’re not their Jayce and Viktor. We could be missing years of memories that we’ll never get to know about.”

Viktor chuckles, “We’re scientists Jayce. We write everything down, besides, I got them to tell us the story of how we all got together.”

“We… all… what? Write down— what are you saying?”

Viktor looks coyly at Jayce, “We wrote everything down, like a journal. And for all of us— you two started dating, but really nothing changed. And the things you two did for one another; you did for me too. You came to the hilarious realization that, you love me too.”

Jayce quirked an eyebrow, a little offended, “Hilarious?”

“You burst into the lab startling the two of us and yelled, “ARE WE ALL DATING?!” In a panicked, frenzied tone. They just looked at you and said, “I thought we were all on the same page, guess not.” And you fainted. I almost pissed myself in laughter.”

Jayce sputters, his face going red. He’s not that oblivious, is he? He thinks back on his interactions with you, with Viktor, and with the two of you together; and comes to a startling conclusion.

“Oh… oh no. I’m an idiot. How come I never realized?!”

Viktor pats his cheek in solidarity, “You’re a very intelligent man, Jayce Talis. But that doesn’t mean you’re smart in other areas of life.”

“Oh geez. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The two men hear your voice from the kitchen, “C’mon you two, breakfast is ready! We still need to get our formal wear from the tailor for the Distinguished Innovators Competition later tonight. We’re the judges this time, we can’t be late and I want to see what Powder and Ekko invented!

Jayce is gobsmacked and Viktor chuckles at him, “Turns out perfecting Hextech makes us quite famous in the science world. We’re highly sought after guest speakers at the academy, explaining our success in transportation, ventilation, plant-life, and medicine. Our lovely partner is a professor at the academy for all students mandatory English class. Powder and Ekko are their favourite student’s; but they’ll never admit it.”

Jayce feels like crying again, this time in happiness, “This is really real. This is our life now?”

“It’s really real. Now c’mon, I’d rather not get hit with a spatula because I came late to eat.” Viktor gets up, gets his cane and leaves the room. Jayce sits there stunned for a few seconds before following him, getting his mug of coffee of the dresser.

When he sees you standing there, all proud of the food you made for them, Jayce’s heart melts.

He deserves this.

You all deserve this.

And with that, he eats the most delicious breakfast he’s ever had, with two people he adores.

AHHHH!!! This idea was so good! I hope I balanced out the angst and the fluff well. This is so *mwah* love ya ❤️

[menofprogress]

Jayvik things that make me insane:

The fact that viktor kept the blanket until the end. Buddy. Idk what you think getting rid of your emotions looks like, but it sure as hell isnt THAT. What an insane character design decision

Like oh my god, he NEVER took it off. Platonic my entire ass.

Viktor is wearing a shirt directly after the explosion, but hes only wearing his brace when jayce is carrying him to the lab. Did jayce try to perform cpr? Did he try to look for injuries? Is viktor even ALIVE when hes carrying him?

During one if the hexcore "x ray shots" you can see that viktor's spine was fully severed. He got HIT.

How long did he try cpr before he realised he needed a miracle for Viktor to survive?

Why wasnt Viktor taken to a hospital? Maybe Jayce didnt trust anyone else to touch him or maybe they didnt bother taking him to the hospital bc he was too far gone already?

The decision to parallel the meljay love scene with viktor rejecting a potential love interest and then nearly dying is WILD. Showing that Mel woke up alone bc jayce rushed to Viktor's side is WILD.

The show constantly making it clear how important viktor is to jayce, like not even as a dig towards mel or anything, but viktor is his BEST FRIEND. Where did all that fanon about jayce abandoning viktor come from bc it sure as hell didnt come from canon.

Literally viktor can do no wrong in jayces eyes, blud starts a mindcontrolling cult and jayce is like "i still love you baby". Viktor pouting to get his way and jayce folding every time is canon to me.

He made sure to include viktor and he would be so mad that the hexgates are only credited to him after their deaths

Viktor put on a brave and reserved face, but he was so insecure about his place in the world and next to jayce, maybe because of his disabilities, maybe because hes from zaun, but it never, never mattered to jayce and he takes such care to reassure viktor, remind him of his place by his side and hes fully aware of the difficulties viktor faces. Aside from the one dumbass slip up on the bridge ofc lol

Viktor may be insecure about his body and his standing, but that doesnt stop him from being a catty bitch tho lol

The fact that jayce knows viktors 'oasis' hideout. Did viktor tell him, did he follow him once? And he can apparently immediately deduce 'oh, something upsetting happened to viktor, im gonna need to check up on him'

During the forehead touching, disintegration scene you can see that jayce is visibly straining, either terrified or in pain, but he refuses to let go of viktor. And when we finally see viktor reciprocating touch its to comfort jayce by stroking his arm

[chufflepop]

The winners garden

This was inspired by my emerald rogue run (the old one), with my pidgeot whom I have named Victory after the run ended (or caught a pidgey in the safari and pretended it was her)

This'll be long because it affected me that much. I didn't expect to win this run- I thought I was a goner after Wallace. I swear this run felt like a movie sequence because my god it felt so climactic (to me)

Victory was a random pidgey I caught at before the first or second gym, and I was originally going to trade her off but I just felt like I lacked flying types. Eventually, I thought she was actually a really valuable member and kept her in. It also helped alot that the pidgeotite appeared the next time I got into the battle stop store, so it felt right keeping her around-

My team had a latios, thunderus, sylveon (who died but I managed to get him back because of the random lab encounter, thank god it was just a species curse), serperior, dracovish and mega pidgeot. Pidgeot with hurricane spam is so good I kept her around even more

It was a really solid team until I accidentally stumbled into a trainer battle while getting an item, and due to an unlucky crit, my latios goes down

At this point, I got mad because "AH, MY BEST TEAM MEMBER". He had a choice specs on and his job was to spam, but unfortunately, his psychic didn't kill the mega kanghaskan we encountered. It was unfortunate, I didn't level up because I thought I could avoid the trainer, but oh well

Caught a random alolan ninetales that did good aurora veil blizzard (after buying an ability patch) and I thought she'd be fine and for awhile, it was

Until I reached the champion. Wallace killed 3 of my team members, down went my serperior, my newly caught alolan ninetales, and my dracovish. And there was also an unskippable trainer when I moved on to the next route which killed my sylveon, leaving me with only my thunderus and my dear pidgeot

Remember the species clause I said earlier? That thing screwed me over when it only had 3 available pokemon (and worse, it was a water route so the surf point also had staryu, maybe I was just impatient and maybe another mon is in the surf point idk). I caught a starmie, a toxapex and a jellicent in that route. With the species clause active, I was handicapped to fight the REAL champion. I only had 5 pokemon instead of 6

The last poke stop. The trader was there, so I took a gamble with him and traded my starmie. And what came out of it felt right- It was a victini. At this point, I was giggling to myself like "I might win" because of victinis dex entry and such, about how it being with you is basically a guaranteed victory.

After I prepared my team to the best that I could and with some small confidence growing, I pressed on.

At this point, I only remember the pidgeot battle so I'm just trying to remember here and I'm probably wrong in some details

Red was the final champion and my victini took the lead. Victini died first, he was scarfed and spammed bolt strike until he MISSED. But it was still good enough, it was now a fair 4v4. Jellicent didn't have much, but he had will o wisp, which helped alot. He wasn't trained as well as the others so he was frailer than he was supposed to be, but he weakened one pokemon enough for thunderbolt range and died. 3v4 now

Thunderus tbolt, he goes down. Thunderus had a z crystal and it one shotted I forgot who immediately after.

It's now a 2v2

Terrakion. Easy enough for toxapex to take down (and spam recover)

2v1

Final pokemon was a giratina. Shadow force. Didnt want to switch out because tox was in good health and I wanted to knock off, but it critted and tox was lower than anticipated. Knock off did alright damage and I was sure it was a clear 2 hit ko if pidgeot lived. One outrage and tox was down

1v1.

My pidgeot, the pidgeot who's been with me since the start, the pidegot that I was going to trade away, the pidgeot that I doubted. From a little helpless pidgey to now facing Satan head on

She megas and hits her first hurricane but it doesn't kill and an outrage hits her and SHE BARELY LIVED. SHE WAS CLINGING FOR HER LIFE. AND THERE I KNEW, I KNEW I WON. ONE LAST HURRICANE AND DOWN GOES GIRATINA, AND MY SOLE SURVIVOR WON ME EVERYTHING!

IT FELT SO PERFECT. THE SPECIES CLAUSE, THE VICTINI, THE TOXAPEX, THE STRESS I BUILT, THE IMPORTANT POKEMON DYING JUST BEFORE RED, THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP TAKING DOWN POKEMON SATAN, IT DIDN'T LOOK LIKE MUCH VISUALLY AND SOME PEOPLE WOULD PROBABLY THINK IT'S CHILDISH, BUT I IMAGINED MY PIDGEOT ABSOLUTELY LOOKING COOL AND GOING HAM ON THAT FINAL BATTLE. THE FINAL BATTLE WAS COOL IN MY HEAD OKAY

After we won, I caught a female pidgey on the safari zone and named her Victory. It's the same pidgeot now pidgey that in my heart. And that's literally why I made this drawing. And also I significantly love pidgeot more now. I would also make an essay about my thought process when making this, but I think this tumblr blog is long enough (it was so corny ngl). Too bad I can’t bring her over but the newer game is fun too

I'm sorry this was long guys, I enjoyed talking about this way too much ahshsh

[qwellterqustoinmark]

DC X DP

Dead on Main, Mad Scientist Danny Feton, bad reval, poor moewo mewos

Danny would call himself a guy. A dude, very chill if you must, and he was fine in his own little lab. Was it just the cramed basement of some abounded apartment complex that probably had more mold then wall? Yes, that did not matter. What did was the fact he could do everything he wanted! Not legally, but laws where made to be very vaguely followed, as his mother said.

Now, being know was good for business! Being the guy people went too when they wanted some shit was good! Was he happy that all (and by all he ment every single fucking one, even the kid he gave a healing pot too witch what the fuck?) of them where villains? No! He thinks he's aloud to be upset about that.

So Joker dragging in a new lab rat of his was not new. What was, was the fact the idotoc asshole kept comeing back. Kept dragging kids to Danny's feet like Danny was nothing but a senseless dog.

Danny's finger twitched of the gear of burner. The screaming was the worst part, that and the goofs cheery laugh.

"I won't take em asshole." Joker all but croons sadly. Still giggling over himself, "Yes- but this ones a ah! A favorite of you, mh, maddd types!" Danny paused. Shit this wasn't the normal gas test was it. God dammit.

Danny turns to look at the man. Ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind singing of a curuis cruletly. The voice of Phantom, ones hes tried so hard to squish. "Do tell," Danny urges comeing to stand infrot of the wooden box.

Joker smiles impossiblely larger. Hands clasped together as his shoulders shake with mirth. "Well! I know you live under a rock dear Docter, so let me say!" The clown dances around the box. Drumming on it before he leans over it. Hands on his chin, smirk on his face. "It's the dead Robin." Chackles Joker.

It dosnt smell dead. No, not more then anyone else in Gotham for that fact. Still Danny knocks on the box, not hollow though due to its size there lots of empty space. The nails are hammers down sloppily, and the holes are drilled as a after though. Usesly air holes mean their alive, or they want him to think they are.

"I'm no god Joker." Danny scolds. He'll have to decontimate now, witch is awful becuses if death has gotten into test AEA7 it would ruin the-

"Oh no, it came back."

What?

Danny stares at the mad man. The morth still wrote on the man's face and if he focuses he can hear the muted heart beat of something side the creat, drowned by Jokers erratically flailing one.

"What." Joker smiles at him, wiggling his finger at Danny like he had caught him. "I knew you Docters love something new!" Joker claims clapping to himself. "What the fuck do you mean?" Joker frowns at haveing been cut off by Danny but dosnt repermand him.

"It came back! It defined everything we know, and we'll, I ah, I know you Tinkiters love something that stays, well, hm, fixxed." Dear Acienects. Danny stated at that wooden box sering it for what ot was, a cheap cage. Something to keep them down till you found something better, or they gave in.

Something Danny's can imagen himself in. Can imagen Dani in. Fuck even Dan. Something he swore he'd never let in. Something he promised he'd keep others safe from.

He failed. Something he so obviously failed, and all he can feel is the numbness of his fingers as his nails dig into his palm.

"Get out." His voice croaks. That same weak voice he'd cry to be louder, cry to stop everything. The voice he shredded for nothing.

Joker pouts. Twirling a finger in his hair like a school girl. "I'm helping!" He plays. Plays, like a humors fiddle life is. Like it's something one man can mold and shape. Like it's his to control.

He dosnt know how he ends up punching the bastred he jist know he dosnt stop. Claws dig into his face but this is no mortal man. This is a monster, more so then Phantom, more so then Danny.

His father always said monsters got braver the longer you let them linger. Danny knows now that he was right, and dosnt let this one return.

Guns are not typical lab equipment.

Guns dosnt usely have no safety, guns don't usely have a last name stickerd on it. Guns dosnt usely shatter a skull in one shot.

Danny whipes his nose. The body is still warm and Jokers chest rises and falls mindlessly. He's dead. Danny shoots him once more, and the body converses with the motion. Very dead.

The kid. The kid, fuck the kid.

Danny whipes the blood onto his coat, shoveing the gun as far as he can, he can, he jist killed their captor. Okay this could go very bad, or very good.

"Hey kid- your, shit, your okay now-" That is a grown ass man. That is a very awake, very drugged grown man.

Captive looks up twords him, head lulled slightly, and stares at him. Danny stares back. He's tempted to close the lid again, just wait till it's out of him, and he can leave. Yeah that might be the best plan of action.

"Is he gone?" The very adult man says. Voice a horseh whisper. Danny stops shutting the crate. Looking to stre back at the adult man (kid, he's a kid, mabye bot forever but right now he is).

"Uh." Shit what did Jazz said calmed kids? Danny slowly puts his hand in the box, "He is. Big Goof didn't start a chance against good old.. um.." he didn't really have the most hero nickname.

It didn't seem to matter, becuses the red helmeted man grabs Danny's hand. Nearly dragging him into the creat aswell.

"Thank you, thank you- thank you-" Danny just sat still. Red helmet dude clearly needed this.

Manye it could be okay for him too.

"Yeah, it'll be okay.."

[tunafruitt]

--> ||❝ The Creator has a.. LOVER?! ❞

SAGAU || Warnings: fluff, gender neutral reader, slight crack, reader gets called a test subject and is implied to be used as one [Dottore’s part] OOC w/ Dottore..? Idk I haven’t finished sumeru yet </3

[ The people of Teyvat find out their grace has been romantically involved with someone for a while now.. what do they think about it? ]

Character(s): DOTTORE, XIAO

-> [ DOTTORE ]

“The Doctor is the Creator’s suitor? As in… the Second of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? Are you sure that’s him? You are? Oh.. is— Is Your Grace feeling okay? I don’t see why anyone would be willingly involved with the Fatui Harbingers. What?! No! I’m not saying that’s not okay. Your Grace can do whatever they want! Hmph..”

The people of Teyvat felt conflicted to say the least. They weren’t judging your ability to make choices! They really weren’t… they just thought that there were better choices out there for Their Grace!! Yeah, everyone knew you liked the harbingers even before you descended, but couldn’t you have chosen a less deranged harbinger? For example… uhm... none of them.

Dottore could really care less what everyone else thought of his relationship with you though. He got the full package! His lover was the All Mighty Creator, and now he has a new “test subject”! (he says it affectionately.) Dottore knows people hate him even more than before, but who’s the one with the Creator’s arms wrapped around them, head over heels? This benefits him in so many ways. Wether it be research, obtaining materials, or just being able to have something more to use against the rest of the harbingers.

No one would ever dare voice the opinions they have of him while you’re in the vicinity. They’ll listen to you talk about a “date” you had with Dottore, which was really just you and him in his lab…. and he’s using you to help with his research. Hearing this, the rest of the allogene’s eyes are twitching, their fists are clenched, they’re FURIOUS. Not at you! Never. They’re mad at Dottore. How dare he use you as a test subject?! (you volunteered) How dare he use you to try to make another god?! (you thought that sounded fun) How dare he be IN LOVE with the All Mighty Creator?! (you fell first.)

When the two of you are seen in public, the streets go QUIET. Dottore carries this eerie aura with him, everyone knows who he is. And adding to the fact he’s a harbinger, he is also now recognized as the Creator’s suitor. Everyone besides you feels the silence and the stares, including Dottore, but if his lover is happy does it really matter? <3

In conclusion, everyone hopes Dottore dies. It’s not that they don’t want to see you happy. In fact, the entirety of Teyvat is glad you’re experiencing love and joy, just not with HIM.

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

You spend a lot of days in Dottore’s lab. Today was one of those days.

You were conversing with one of Dottore’s younger clones. The clones, while being segments of Dottore, have their own distinct personalities. The one thing they hold in common is the love they have for you.

You love talking to the clones and giving them breaks from whatever days-long tasks Dottore gives them, but you miss the Dottore who’s the last thing you see before you fall asleep and after you wake up. You haven’t seen him since yesterday! Is this really how your boyfriend treats his lover…. who also happens to be the Creator???

And so you decide to go look for him. Who would’ve guessed he was sitting where he always was; his desk. Once you’ve spotted him, as payback for leaving you alone, you decide to sneak up on him. You try your hardest to silence your steps as much as possible in this hollow and echoey office of his.

“I can hear you, Y/N.”

“No you can’t... C’mon Dottore! Cut me some slack. I haven’t seen you since yesterday… and you didn’t even come to say good morning to me today!”

“Good morning.”

“It’s 4:00 PM, love. Take a break. It’s not like I’ll die anytime soon… can I even die..? Uhm.. that’s besides the point. You can conduct your experiments on me and do you research later. Come entertain me, please?”

“Are you asking because I have a choice?”

Your silence gives him an answer. You pull him up from his chair by grabbing his hands and pull him into a hug. You lean in closer to peck his cheek. He leans into you and grabs you by the waist to pull you closer—

“Doctor, the segments have finished—“

“Oh.”

-> [ XIAO ]

“Oh! One of the adepti? THE VIGILANT YAKSHA?! S-sorry that caught me by surprise… So the Yaksha is dating the Creator, huh. His tales have been documented for millennia’s, yet he’s rarely seen in public… I guess even someone like that can’t help but fall for Our Grace.”

So that must be why you always cooked Almond Tofu… Well, since Xiao IS the Conqueror of Demons, I can see the people of Liyue being quite happy. Jealous? Yes. But who’s even more jealous? Mondstadt. Why couldn’t it be one of the Knights of Favonious or something? But they guess you’re happy and that’s enough… (Though it could’ve been with them.)

Xiao is seen a little more often with you now that it’s confirmed you two are dating. Not too often, but if you want to go try out a restaurant in the city of Liyue, he’ll never say no. He may not speak much, but according to rumors is Liyue… “his eyes are always on you, listening to anything and everything the Creator has to say. It’s clear he’s fallen completely in love!” (Said by Chef Mao, probably.)

Being Xiao’s partner may seem awkward from an outsiders perspective, but he’s surprisingly sweet! He still won’t talk much, but he’ll reply to any questions you have, no matter how stupid or obvious they are with full genuity. Him being the Conqueror of Demons and you being the Creator, you both live busy lives…. so his eyes literally light up when you two are both able to finally see each other after a long time. <3 (he’s head over heels guys help.)

The adepti would be so PROUD. They probably already knew you and Xiao had a little something going on even before it was announced because of the way Xiao seemed slightly more happy. This lead to then being suspicious and eventually seeing him and you together… doing the most intimate thing ever…..

…. HOLDING HANDS. UNDER THE MOONLIGHT. But they kept quiet so don’t worry!

─ִ━━ ꯭  ───ׂ─ִ─  ͜͡✿͜͡  ─ִ──ׂ──  ꯭  ━━ִ─

“Xiao! I found you.”

As per usual, Xiao was sitting on the roof of Wangshu Inn. Today was one of the days where both of you were busy. You had a meeting to attend, and he was doing his job as The Conqueror of Demons. It was night by the time you were able to see each other.

“You should’ve called my name, Your Grace. It would’ve been easier for me to find you.”

“Yeah but I like looking for you. I always know where you are since you’re in the same spots anyway. And besides, I like how Wangshu Inn looks at night!”

You always thought Xiao looked pretty, but he looked especially pretty under the moonlight. His face seemed to glow more than usual today. Maybe it was the warm colored light radiating from inside of Wangshu Inn, or the light reflected by the moon shining down on him. Maybe it was the fact he had missed you so much that seeing your face again brought him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Your Grace?”

“Oh, sorry Xiao, I lost my train of thought. Let’s go eat! I’m feeling hungry… today’s meeting was waaayy too long… C’mon, I’ll buy you something!”

“No need. I’ll be okay with just accompanying Your Grace.”

“Agh, stop calling me that. Y/N? Can you say Y/N? Please Xiao?”

“… Y-Y/N..”

“See? Not too hard right? Ok let’s go eat! I’ll make you Almond Tofu how you like it.”

FINALLY DONE OOHMYGODDD sorry this took so long. Idk what I should do next so feel free to request anything… ANYWAYS THE FIRST PART OF THIS GOT ALMOST 700 NOTES??? omg stop guys I’m giggling and blushing aughshsgghh. But seriously thank you so much I’m bawling

[aspenmissing]

Heyyy, I just wanted to say that I really enjoy your writing!!! Also, I would love to see the way you write the arcane characters x chubby reader if it's possible? (Sorry if you have already done something like this) 💗

ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4183 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇꜱᴇʟꜰ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴꜱᴜʟᴛ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ/ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ! ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʙᴜꜰꜰ, ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴍᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ ꜱ/ᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been drawn to beauty. The sleekness of Hextech, the gleam of polished metal, the refined architecture of Piltover. But none of it, none of it, compared to you.

You, with your curves that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves, draped in fabric that hugged every soft dip and roll of your body. You had never been one to hide, never been one to shrink yourself down to fit into someone else’s mould. You knew exactly who you were, and you owned it.

And Jayce? Jayce adored it.

He watched from across the room as you adjusted your corset, pushing up your ample chest with a satisfied smirk. The deep burgundy fabric accentuated every inch of you, cinched at the waist, only to flare out around your full hips. You turned slightly, catching him staring in the mirror, and let out a teasing hum.

"Like what you see, Talis?"

Jayce set down the schematics he was pretending to study and leaned against his desk, arms crossed, but his eyes never left you. "You know I do. How could I not when you look like that?"

You sauntered over, hips swaying, reveling in the way his gaze darkened, how he practically devoured you without laying a single hand on you yet. Stopping in front of him, you placed a hand on his chest and tilted your chin up, an eyebrow raised.

"You should say it, you know," you teased. "A man of your intellect should be able to articulate what he wants."

Jayce let out a breathy chuckle, his hands finally finding your waist, his fingers pressing into the plush softness there. He had always been strong, always been powerful, but when it came to you? He was completely at your mercy.

"I want you," he murmured, pulling you flush against him. "I love all of you."

You grinned, satisfied, running your hands up his broad shoulders. "Damn right you do."

Jayce kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of devotion into the press of his lips against yours. His hands roamed greedily, tracing every curve, every soft plane, revelling in the warmth of you beneath his fingertips. He didn’t just love you—he worshipped you.

His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline, along the sensitive skin of your neck, drawing a soft sigh from you. "You drive me insane, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

You laughed, fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "I know. That’s half the fun."

His grip on your waist tightened as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on his desk amidst scattered blueprints and tools. His hands slid along your thighs, his thumbs brushing teasingly over the tops of your stockings. "And what about you?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you know what you do to me?"

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer. "Oh, I have an idea," you purred. "But I’d love a demonstration."

Jayce let out a deep, satisfied chuckle before capturing your lips again, his hands roaming, exploring, savouring every inch of you. He wanted to make sure you felt just how much he adored you, how much he needed you. Every curve, every soft plane—everything about you drove him to the brink of madness.

And he had no intention of stopping.

VIKTOR

The hum of Piltover’s night buzzed softly beyond the lab’s windows, but inside, all was still. The only illumination came from the dim glow of Hextech crystals, their soft light casting a golden hue over Viktor’s form as he lounged on the small couch in his lab. He looked comfortable—one arm stretched over the back, the other resting against his chest, his ever-present cane propped against the side of the couch. His golden eyes gleamed with warmth as they traced over you, standing hesitantly by his side.

“Come,” he murmured, patting his chest invitingly. “Lay with me, moje láska.” (My Love)

Your heart clenched at the tenderness in his voice, but the moment you considered it, a flicker of hesitation crept in. You weren’t small, and Viktor—Viktor was delicate in ways you didn’t like to dwell on. His body bore the weight of his work, of years of overexertion and the creeping grasp of his illness. You didn’t want to risk making it worse.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you admitted, arms crossing over your stomach instinctively. “I’m—”

“Soft?” Viktor finished for you, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Warm? Everything I could possibly want pressing into me?” He tilted his head, watching you with an expression you knew well—the one that told you he was about to be stubborn.

You scoffed, but your pulse quickened when he suddenly reached for you, strong fingers curling around your wrist. Before you could protest, he pulled, not with force, but with conviction, guiding you until you were straddling his lap. His hands settled at your hips, grounding you.

You froze. “Viktor—”

“Shh,” he soothed, slipping a hand up your back, pressing you down against him. “You will not break me, my love. I want you here.”

Your breath caught as his warmth seeped into you, his body firm beneath you despite his slender frame. His heartbeat thrummed steadily under your ear, and for a moment, all the worries melted away. His fingers traced absentminded patterns over your back, slow and tender, as if memorizing every curve of you.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and something deeper—something reverent. "I have dreamed of this. Of you, against me, without restraint."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I just—sometimes I worry that I’m too much.”

Viktor huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “můj drahý, if you are too much, then let me be crushed beneath your love. It is the only weight I wish to bear.” (My Dear)

His words wrapped around your heart like silk, warm and unyielding. You let yourself exhale, sinking further into his embrace. Viktor hummed in approval, his hands smoothing over your back as though reassuring himself that you were finally giving in.

“See?” he whispered. “Not so bad, is it?”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the junction of his neck and collarbone. “You’re warm,” you admitted.

Viktor chuckled, the sound deep and content. “I should hope so. You are quite the blanket.”

You groaned against his skin, giving his side a playful squeeze, and he laughed again—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that made your chest ache with love.

=

For a long moment, you simply lay there, tangled together. Viktor’s breathing was steady, a slow rise and fall beneath you, his hand trailing idly over your back. You felt the occasional twitch in his leg, the remnants of strain from a long day, but he never complained. If anything, he held you tighter, as though afraid you might slip away.

“You should rest,” you murmured after a while, shifting just enough to brush your fingers through his hair. It was soft, tousled from hours spent hunched over his workbench, and the urge to card through it further was impossible to resist.

Viktor hummed, tipping his head slightly into your touch. “I will. But only if you stay right here.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “I think I can manage that.”

He smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. “Good,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Because I do not plan to let you go.”

His voice had that low, certain weight to it, the kind that made your breath catch.

Viktor was many things—brilliant, stubborn, a man forever chasing the next great discovery—but above all, he was yours. And no matter how many doubts clouded your mind, no matter how often you worried about being too much, he always pulled you back to him.

Always.

You shifted slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to his jaw before settling against him once more. His arms wrapped around you with ease, and as the glow of the Hextech crystals flickered gently in the dim light, you felt it.

The quiet gravity of him. Of this. Of home.

JAYVIK

The door creaked open as Viktor and Jayce stepped into their shared room, voices low as they discussed the day’s work. The scent of metal and oil clung to them, remnants of long hours in the lab. They hadn’t expected to find Y/N standing before the full-length mirror, clad only in her underwear, fingers pinching harshly at the soft skin of her stomach.

Viktor stopped mid-step, his cane pressing into the floor. Jayce’s brows furrowed, his expression softening as he took in the scene. Y/N didn’t seem to notice them yet, lost in her own harsh assessment, a scowl pulling at her lips. The dim light cast shadows on her frame, accentuating every dip and curve she scrutinized so cruelly.

“What are you doing, darling?” Viktor’s voice was gentle but firm, enough to break her from her trance.

Y/N startled, arms moving instinctively to cover herself. “I—nothing. It’s nothing.”

Jayce sighed, stepping closer, his large hands reaching for hers. “That doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, guiding her arms away with deliberate care. He traced his fingers over the soft pouch of her stomach, his touch warm and grounding. “You know, this?” He pressed a kiss just above her navel. “This is where your body keeps you safe, keeps you healthy.”

Viktor moved to her side, his cane resting against the dresser as he cupped her cheek. “Did you know that this,” he murmured, his fingers skimming over the plush skin at her waist, “is a sign of warmth? Your body holds onto softness because it knows you deserve it.” He leaned in, lips brushing over the side of her stomach, reverent and slow.

Jayce’s fingers traced down her thighs, his lips following suit. “And these?” He murmured against the soft flesh. “These are strength. They carry you, support you, and they are beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against the plush skin, appreciating the warmth beneath his lips. “Soft, strong, and perfect.”

Viktor’s hands ghosted over her upper arms, his thumb rubbing circles over them. “These arms have held us, comforted us,” he said softly. “How could you think anything less of them?” He kissed her shoulder, letting his lips linger before whispering, “They are a gift.”

Jayce chuckled, tilting her chin up so he could brush his lips against the underside. “And this,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, “is just another part of you to love. It’s soft, and every time I see it, I think of how beautiful you are.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her collarbone, then lower. His fingers traced the plush swell of her breasts, admiration shining in his eyes. “And these,” he breathed, voice laced with affection, “are perfect. They make the best pillows.” His lips brushed over them gently, reverently. “Soft, warm, and made to be cherished.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier self-criticism wavering in the face of their tenderness. “I just…” she exhaled shakily. “I don’t always feel good about it.”

Jayce hummed, kneeling before her, his hands splaying over her hips. “Then let us remind you.” He pressed another kiss, this time to the inside of her thigh, his touch radiating nothing but admiration.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her shoulder. “We see every part of you, and we adore it. Every curve, every mark—” he kissed the soft skin of her upper arm, “—every inch of you is worthy of love.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, overwhelmed by the weight of their affection. Her self-doubt still lingered, but in this moment, with their hands and lips mapping her body with care, it was easier to believe that maybe—just maybe—they were right.

VANDER

The Last Drop had quieted for the night, its usual hum of raucous voices and the clink of glass replaced by the low crackling of the hearth. Vander leaned against the bar, his watchful gaze softening as he took in the sight before him.

There you were, curled up on the worn-out couch near the fire, with Vi and Powder nestled against you, their small forms tucked against your warmth. Mylo lay sprawled across your lap, his head resting on your plush thigh, while Claggor had somehow claimed a spot by your hip, one arm slung across your waist like a lifeline.

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. They adored you—each of them, drawn to your kindness, your warmth, your presence.

Hell, how could they not?

You were the heart of this ragtag family, and Vander knew, deep in his bones, he was the luckiest bastard alive to have you.

"Think ya got enough room there, love?" he teased, approaching with that familiar smirk playing at his lips.

Your sleepy eyes met his, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Mmm, there's always room for you," you murmured, voice thick with drowsiness.

His heart damn near melted.

Crouching beside you, he reached out, his large, calloused hand running over the curve of your hip, giving it a firm, appreciative squeeze.

"That so?" he murmured, voice low, eyes glinting with something more.

Vi stirred, grumbling against your shoulder. "Ugh, get a room, you two…"

You laughed softly, fingers threading through Powder’s messy blue hair. "Shhh, just sleep, sweetheart."

Vander only grinned. "Girl’s got a point, though." His hand trailed lower, fingers ghosting over your thigh before he realized—his damn spot was taken.

Mylo, the little brat, was already sprawled across your lap, his head buried against the plush of your thigh like he had every right in the world to it.

Vander let out a deep sigh, shaking his head with a smirk as he lowered himself to the floor beside you. "Guess I’m gettin’ bumped to second place now, huh?"

You hummed, amused. "You saying you'd fight a kid for my thigh?"

His rough chuckle rumbled through his chest as he leaned in, resting his head just beside your other thigh, where your warmth radiated like a comforting embrace. "Depends. Think I got a chance?"

You carded your fingers through his thick hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Vander sighed, completely boneless beneath your touch, his hand slipping up to squeeze at your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles against the soft flesh.

"Dunno how ya do it," he muttered, voice thick with something deep, something reverent. "Holdin’ all of us together like this."

You smiled, tilting your head down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "Because I love you. All of you."

His grip on your hip tightened, just for a moment. "Yeah, love?" His voice was husky, filled with something raw. "Lucky me, then."

And with that, sleep claimed him, wrapped in your warmth, in your love, in the family you’d built together.

=

Morning came with the usual chaos—Vi trying to fight Mylo over breakfast, Powder accidentally knocking over a mug, Claggor just trying to keep the peace.

You were at the stove, flipping eggs onto plates, the rich scent of a hearty meal filling the room. A pot simmered nearby, steam curling up in lazy wisps. With a sigh, you crouched down to grab a skillet from the lower cabinet, shifting aside a few mismatched lids in the process.

And then—smack.

A sharp but playful sting echoed through the kitchen. You jolted, head nearly knocking against the counter as you whipped around with a glare. Vander stood there, utterly unapologetic, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Vander," you hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Morning, love," he rumbled, entirely too amused.

Your glare wavered when he leaned in, his calloused hands settling at your waist, fingers kneading into the plush curves with slow, familiar ease. His breath brushed your ear, warm and teasing. "Couldn't resist," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. "You're impossible."

"Ya love it."

Before you could retort, Powder piped up from the table, "Y/N! Vi’s stealing Mylo’s toast again!"

You sighed, slipping out of Vander’s grasp as you turned back to the chaos of breakfast. "Vi, knock it off!"

Vander chuckled, watching you go with a look of pure devotion before finally joining the kids at the table—like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

Yeah. This was home.

SILCO

The Last Drop hummed with low chatter, the heavy bass of the music pulsing through the floor like a heartbeat. Smoke curled in lazy tendrils above the tables, the air thick with liquor and sin. But in your secluded corner—reserved only for you and Silco—the world felt quieter.

Silco’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. He was always touching you, always anchoring you to him in some way. A silent declaration. A warning.

You lifted your glass to your lips, savoring the burn of the whiskey. Across from you, Silco swirled his drink, his mismatched eyes half-lidded as he watched you. It was a rare thing, moments like this, where the chaos of Zaun could not touch you.

Then the peace shattered.

A drunken fool stumbled toward your table, glass sloshing in his grip. His eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, zeroed in on you.

“Didn’t know Silco had a thing for—” The man hiccuped, then laughed, his gaze dragging over your form. “—soft women.”

Your jaw tightened, irritation prickling beneath your skin. Before you could react, Silco’s fingers twitched against your thigh. The shift was minuscule, but you knew what it meant.

Danger.

Silco leaned back, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Do finish that sentence.” His voice was soft, almost inviting, but the undertone was razor-sharp.

The drunkard blinked, suddenly aware of the weight of his own words. “I—I just meant—”

Silco moved before the man could stumble out an excuse. His grip left your thigh, and in a blink, he had the fool by the collar, dragging him closer with deceptive ease.

“Tell me,” Silco murmured, his lips ghosting the man’s ear, “do you have a death wish, or are you simply too stupid to recognize one?”

The man stammered, sweat beading at his temple. “I—I didn’t—”

“You did,” Silco interrupted. His free hand—knife-sharp fingers wrapped in leather—came up to press against the drunk’s throat. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make the man’s breath hitch. “And now, you will pay for it.”

A sound like a whimper escaped the man’s lips. The Last Drop wasn’t silent, but the patrons nearby had stopped pretending not to watch. Everyone knew how this would end.

You exhaled slowly, setting your glass down with a quiet clink.

“Silco.” Your voice was calm, but it held weight.

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he sighed through his nose. His irritation was palpable. But he listened.

With a shove, he sent the man sprawling to the floor. “Crawl away,” he sneered. “Before I change my mind.”

The drunk scrambled backward, his face pale, and scuttled into the crowd.

Silco exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before turning back to you. He settled into his seat as if nothing had happened, his hand finding your thigh again, gripping it a little firmer this time.

You traced the rim of your glass, watching the whiskey catch the dim light before turning your gaze back to him. “You let him off easy.”

Silco hummed, swirling his drink before taking a slow sip. “Because you asked me to.”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sharpness of his features, the tension still lingering in the line of his shoulders.

Then you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the table as you smirked. “He’s nothing but a drunken fool, love,” you murmured, voice warm with amusement. “Not worth the clean-up.”

Silco’s gaze flicked to you, that keen intelligence behind his mismatched eyes sharpening. He turned his glass slightly between his fingers, considering your words.

You continued, tone softer now. “A man like that… he doesn’t deserve the energy it would take to dispose of him. He’ll wake up tomorrow reeking of piss and regret, and he won’t even remember why.” You tilted your head, your smirk growing. “Now, that’s a fate worse than death, don’t you think?”

Silco chuckled, low and indulgent, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re far too merciful.”

You arched a brow. “No, I just know the best way to make a man suffer.”

Silco let out a quiet hum of approval, his grip lingering as his thumb brushed absentmindedly over your skin. The warmth of his touch, the silent claim, was intoxicating.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, the hard edge of him melting just enough. “No one,” he murmured, voice like velvet, “speaks to you that way and walks away unscathed.”

Your fingers brushed against his jaw, tilting his face toward you. “I know.”

And when his lips curled into that knowing smirk, you knew—no matter how dangerous the world was, with Silco, you would always be safe.

CLAGGOR (AU)

The dim glow of Zaun’s flickering streetlights barely reached the small hideout where you and Claggor had tucked yourselves away for the night. The world outside was alive with the hum of machinery, the distant rumble of pipes, and the occasional shouts from a gang fight somewhere in the underbelly of the city. But none of it mattered. Not when Claggor had you wrapped up in his arms, his big hands roaming over your soft curves like he was memorizing every inch of you.

You lay sprawled on the bed, tucked against his broad chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sheets were thin, but Claggor’s body was warm, his grip firm but gentle as he held you close. His scent—gunpowder, metal, and something faintly sweet—wrapped around you like a comfort you never wanted to leave.

“Damn, I love this,” he murmured against your hair, voice thick with contentment. His fingers trailed lazy circles over your stomach, kneading the soft flesh like he couldn’t get enough. “Love how soft you are.”

Your cheeks burned at the way he said it—gruff, reverent, like it was a secret only for him to cherish.

“You say that every time we cuddle.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true every time,” he rumbled, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to your temple, the heat of his lips lingering as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you, his fingers wandering over the dips and curves of your body, mapping them out with slow, appreciative touches.

There was something about the way he touched you—like he was fascinated, obsessed with how perfectly you fit into him. His hands never stayed in one place for long, tracing along your waist, dipping lower just to squeeze at your plush thighs before drifting back up. His fingertips skimmed the underside of your belly, then up to your sides, his palms pressing into every soft part of you as if reassuring himself you were really there.

“I swear you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as he gave your hip a playful squeeze.

Claggor chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through your entire body. “Maybe,” he admitted, shifting slightly so he could press his forehead against yours, “but I got the best spot in Zaun right here. Ain’t nothing better than holding my girl.”

Your heart clenched at the pure adoration in his voice. He meant it. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just Claggor and his unwavering love.

You sighed, melting further into him, and let yourself relax. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands didn’t stop exploring, sliding up your back, fingertips ghosting over your spine before traveling down to squeeze at the plushness of your hips. His thumbs stroked along your skin absentmindedly, as if every inch of you was something to be adored.

Outside, the city rumbled on—pipes hissing, gears grinding, neon signs buzzing faintly in the distance. But inside this little hideout, it was just the two of you. His warmth, his touch, his whispered words grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, lips brushing against your cheek, voice hushed like he was afraid saying it too loud might shatter the moment.

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and iron, of home.

“Always.”

And with the steady heartbeat of the only person who ever made you feel truly safe, you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Oh? What's this? Seems to be an AU crossover with The Monster Labs, by @etanow!

Now, sometimes I like to pretend that this AU is a playable game.

And what does a playable game have? LORE Limited time SKINS!

Endowed with the powers of a minor god, Caine's already outrageous ideas seems to stretch far, far, FAR beyond the horizon now.

It also seems that the Puppetmaster's become a little bit more of a cuckoo than his usual self; cackling like a mad scientist about to bring about either the next revolutionary discovery, or a massive city-wide explosion.

... Why is he giving Pomni so many flowers??

Tsk, tsk, tsk Pomni. You would think that the pain from battles would make one learn, but nope. Not this Harlequin.

Especially when it seems like she's speedrunning flipping the bird off of Death's face as many times as possible to show 'em who's boss. Now she's UNdead!

Good thing she doesn't eat robot brains too. I-I hope...

She's electric! Literally!

Ragatha's gotten quite the new look, and some new tricks at that too. The Artifact Collector herself seems to be more open to going outside all of a sudden; when she tended to be a recluse prior to the change.

Wonder if she's also more open to hugs that don't shock you?

A one of a kind special boss skin! Only available under specific circumstances. His attacks don't change nor add something new, it's just a cosmetic skin for The Mischievous Trickster Automaton fight. lmao

Special thanks to Audi/Eta for letting me do this! I kinda wanna do more AU crossovers when I can because this was very fun, so I may reach out to other AUs I really like :)

For now, I rest my bones........ I have done my job :3c

[rivalswrites]

Valentine's Day special 3/4

Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.

Summery: giving everyone on the Marvel Rivals roster a kiss (with plot!!)

Valentine's Masterlist

Underage characters and animal characters will be platonic (there will be a reminder for each one)

Characters involved: Mister Fantastic, MoonKnight, Namor, Peni Parker (platonic), Psylock, Rocket Raccoon (platonic), Scarlet Witch, Spider-Man, Squirrel Girl

Reed sighed and leaned back into his chair, resting his head on his hand that in turn sat on his brow- he looked hot like that, but that feeling lessened knowing that he was so stressed. New York's infestation of vampires had Reed pushing himself to his limit to find solutions to help not only that, but every other problem as well. Too much for one man to take on all alone.

“You look so tired, Reed, take a break?” You asked, though you both knew it was going to end up as an order if he didn't listen on his own terms. “In a moment, dearest, I just need a bit more time.” more time- he's said that a thousand times, you scoff.

“Reed Nathaniel Richards if you don't swivel that chair away from work right now I swear to whatever God may listen-” “alright!” He cuts you off before you could finish your threat. He knew from experience you'd never give up, and at times like these he didn't want or need something like that. “Alright” he repeated, swirling his chair around to look at you.

His eyes were tired, you could tell- anyone could've. Reed’s arms reached out to you, stretching inhumanly to grab onto your shirt “don't get mad at me.” he whispered, his hands gripping onto you tightly.

“I'm not, sweetheart, I just want you to take care of yourself.” your hands rested on his own that were on your shirt as you walked over to him, watching as his arms slowly retracted back to a more natural form. He let you move as you pleased, him in tow, let you sit down on his lap and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “Doing so much.”

The lab was quiet as you both sat on the chair, his head just barely staying up as your hands played with his hair- and practically held his head up; his hands still gripping your shirt. “So tired” you comment, watching as his eyes slowly blink, like he was high, you giggle as you think.

Reed whispered something, but it was so unintelligible that no one could hear- even with super hearing.

Leaning down you pressed a kiss to his lips, holding it for a little before pulling back- his face pushed against your hands to follow when you did. “Let's get you to bed, yeah?” feeling him nod in your hands you stood up, bending to kiss him again before helping him up.

It was a rough night, no one felt like being inside and so there they were- standing on a balcony with an iron grip on the railings. God only knew which one they were right now, they were all active. It was so loud, and the moonlight wasn't able to help, not this time.

“Marc?” was called out behind them, from the door of the building, but they didn't move. “Steven?” was called out again, and again there was silence in return. “C'mon, don't make me guess them all…” the door shut as you stepped onto the balcony.

“I'm not anyone” he finally replied, turning his face away to avoid looking at yours. He flinched when your hand rested on top of his. “Someone's gotta be there,” you replied, grabbing onto his arm to snuggle into “it's alright. I don't have to know, I love you all either way.”

Your reply shouldn't have been surprising, they all knew you did, always so sweet to them. With a sigh he turned his head back to being straight, looking down at the pavement from what was like fifty stories, no one ever counted. A guttural sound left him as he attempted to talk back, but he just couldn't even when he tried to force himself. He continues to try until you start shushing him, patting his back and leaning him into you.

“Don't force yourself, it's alright” the reassurance was something he needed, that they needed. It was so small and yet there it was, a butterfly feeling deep in his stomach.

His suit was still on, including the mask, but that didn't stop him from doing whatever he wanted. Quickly he turned and grabbed your shoulders, looking at your wide eyes that looked at him in return. It was an intense staring competition for awhile, unfair as well because you couldn't see his eyes so who knew if he was blinking the whole time and cheating.

Before you could voice your complaints he pulled you close to him, leaning his head down. His mask pressed against your face, all over it. He'd pull back and then press the jagged face mask over a different part of your face. “Butterflies” he said quietly before pressing his mask against your lips in an uncomfortable final kiss.

“My dear, how are you feeling?” He asked, peaking around the door of the bedroom to get a glance in. It was late in the evening, and you had stayed in bed almost all day.

The simple reply of a groan and turning around in the bed was what he got back, which did concern him more. Throughout the day worry had built up, and seeing your reaction to being asked how you felt only raised the concern.

He walked into the room fully, closing the door behind him, and went to go sit on the bed. The look he gave you was full of some sort of guilt- probably for not coming to check up on you later. “Is something ailing you my dear? Please talk to me.” He murmured, reaching over to grab onto your hand with a soft grip.

“I'm fine” you whispered back, scooching around the bed before turning back to him. “Just so tired today.”

“Ah, I understand” he sat and thought, unconsciously bringing your hand up and pressing it against his lips; not putting it down or letting it go, just keeping it on his lips. “You could have called me, I could have helped earlier.” The moonlight highlighted on his face, showing the worry etched into it.

“Sorry.” Your reply only made his face give off a small scowl, slightly reprimanding you, “do not apologize, I know it's hard.”

“How can I help?” Finally, Namor lowered your hand from his face, giving your forearm a rest. He still kept your hand in his and even intertwined your fingers with his. “I'll do anything to help get you better, even just for a moment.” He practically proclaimed his love, tightening his grip on your hand.

You didn't respond, at least not verbally, motioning him down with your free hand to which he obeyed. Namor laid down next to you, resting his hand along with yours down in between you two, “anything” he whispers while staring at your eyes with all the admiration in the world.

Before he could get the chance to ask once more, you practically jumped him, using your free hand to wrap around his shoulder as you leaned on his upper body, surprising him with a passionate kiss. He could feel the sorrow you carried, and when he said anything- he meant it.

“If you wanted my affections, darling…” Namor took a deep breath when you just barely pulled away, continuing his sentence between slow kisses, “you could have asked. I'd never-” he paused to kiss you deeper for a moment “-I’d never refuse you.”

(platonic)

The laboratory was practically empty, which made sense due to just how late it was, but that didn't stop you from working away. SP//DR hung in front of you, being held up gently by chains to help with easier access to the full body.

Peni sat on the floor, leaning under one of the desks with blankets and pillows around her. She had made her own makeshift bed there after insisting on her watching you to fix any damages done to her beloved robot- which you didn't fight, figuring her connection to said robot was too deep to be able to.

“How does it look? Will SP//DR be okay?” She pipes up, breaking the silence with her worried questions. “Of course, SP//DR is very strong. Just some scratches and maybe a wire or two exposed, nothing I can't fix.” You swivel your chair around to offer her a reassuring smile, knocking gently against the robot's torso as an example.

She nodded, keeping hold of her pillow as she climbed out from underneath her desk spot and standing closer to watch you work. You moved your chair back around and continued to work, smoldering the metal plates to clean up any of the scratches and indents. Her stare was prominent, practically all over your shoulder to watch as her dear robot was fixed brand new.

“You should go back to resting” you said, setting down the tools in your hands and turning your head to look at her. “It's late, a kid like you needs sleep.”

“I just can't help but worry, SP//DR is all I have left of my dad…” she replied, giving herself permission to start leaning on your shoulders with all her weight. “And you won't lose it, not today.” Your statement brought comfort to her, a warmth she hasn't felt in a while spreading through her- a warmth that felt like a home.

The feeling only doubled when you pressed a kiss onto her cheek, smiling at her before going back to work. She couldn't help but smile, wrapping her arms around your neck into a tight hug before letting go and taking your advice- resting under the desk in her little makeshift bed, listening to the soft sounds of you working away as white noise.

“I'm not sure how you plan on meditating like that” she observed, watching as you threw pillows off the couch and onto the floor. “Easy! You said I have to be comfortable, right?” You smiled at her as you worked vigorously to make the floor a giant nest of blankets and pillows, “I'm doing just that.”

Your explanation was about what she should've expected from you, and by no means was she mad- it was just something she's never seen before, usually meditation made people want a clear space. She sat down on the couch and watched as you worked silently.

Not even five minutes later you were tugging at her hand, trying to get her to stand up. “What are you doing?” She looked up at you as you tugged on her arm. “I need the finishing touch.” You replied, tugging on her arm. Believing she was sitting on whatever you needed she graciously stood up and looked down at the couch to see what it was, but there was nothing here.

Before she could even question what the ‘finishing touch’ was, you tugged on her arm again, this time taking her with you as you sat down on the nest you had made. “Perfect” you muttered while pulling her into your arms, making her rest on your side.

The two of you sat in silence, her head resting on your lap while you played with her hair. You had pulled her down to lay on you soon after the two of you sat down, and she's just been laying there since- processing what was going on. When she did eventually get it through her head she turned to look up at you.

“This is not at all about meditation” she said, narrowing her eyes up at you. “You caught me” you smiled down at her, resting your hand on her cheeks and squishing them to make duck lips. “I do not enjoy being tricked” she murmured out through her plump lips, the words mushing together by the artificial lisp she was given.

Instead of replying, you lean down and press your lips against hers, letting go over her face so it could be normal again- instead resting your hand on her bicep and rubbing gently. Only when you pull away do you speak up, “am I forgiven?” Psylocke takes a moment of silence to stare at you, and for a moment you think she's genuinely pissed, but quickly those thoughts are dispersed when she speaks up, “it is a satisfactory apology.”

(Platonic)

Rocket sat on the porch steps of your dingy home and looked out, watching as the rain poured down from the sky. The wind was cold as it blew into his face, but he paid no mind as he continued to just sit there.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The question snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look up to you as you sat down next to him. “Unless you've actually got a coin, flark off” he spouts out, leaning away from you. He sighs almost dramatically when you pull out a penny from your pocket and offer it to him- “flarkin’ hell, did you actually just have that on you?”

“I knew you'd say that,” you reply, putting the penny into his lap “you've become predictable, Rocketeer.” Leaning back on your hands you cross your legs and watch the rain fall with him. “Me? Predictable? Oh please” Rocket scoffed, waving his hand before picking up the penny and examining it. Silence set in between the two of you, the rain being filler for anything that could possibly be said.

Rocket tossed the coin back to you, raising an eyebrow when you quickly caught it instead of having it hit you in the head and make you fumble like he thought. “So why'd you come out here? Couldn't resist my charm or somethin’?” He teased, nudging your arm with his. “Oh, right. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“That's it?” He questioned, looking up at you with an oddly confused face, “you came out here just to tell me you've made food?” there's a pause, “well, yeah, I wanted to make sure you got some first- you know how much Quill eats, best to get some before him” you chuckle at your own statement about Peter, Rocket joining in with a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, that's true.” He agrees, standing up and moving to stand on the top step of the porch. “What'd you make anyways?”

You turned and grabbed his face, pulling it down to place a big fat kiss on the very top of his head, letting go soon after to stand up yourself and turn to go back inside the house. “What the flark! Dude, not cool” Rocket complained, standing on the porch for a moment before chasing you inside, “and what'd you make!”

Wanda stared down at you, watching as you laid on the floor almost lifelessly if it wasn't for your head moving from side to side and complaining about your job.

“You should've heard him, Wanda! He told me to get it all done by Thursday!” You cried out, your arms raising to cover your face, “Thursday! Even Friday would've been nice.” With a dramatic sigh, your arms fall back to the floor with a thud.

Crouching down and moving to sit on her knees, she brushed hair away from your face and watched it fall. “Sounds very rough, dear” she says, and while she sounds pretty monotone you know she's being sympathetic over your painful boss. Her words bring you comfort, the understanding she offers makes you feel warm in the chest as you let out a deep breath you were definitely holding in. “Yeah”, you mutter back.

Your hand comes up and reaches out, palm to her awaiting. It's obvious what you want, and she obliges, putting her hand on top of yours to hold as she shifts to sit next to you. Her legs are on one side, she's half resting on one of her calves. Ever so gently, her free hand lifts your head and maneuvers you to have your head resting on her lap- her hand staying on your head and brushing your hair back into her.

“Anything I can help with?” She whispers, looking down at you as you bring her hand holding yours to her chest, to simply lie there. The rise and fall caused by your breath was a steady rhythm, which she liked.

“Just this.” You replied, looking up at her with a smile, turning your head gently to lean in her arms. A hum of approval was all she gave you.

The two of you sat like this for a while- even though both knew how uncomfortable the position was for the other, neither said a word, too scared to break the peace.

It was a surprise when she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your chin- a miscalculation on her part- before pulling back and going in for another kiss, actually planting it on your lips this time as intended.

“I love you,” she said, cutting you off before you could respond with more “my back hurts, mayhaps we could move to a more comfortable place?” she asks, though it was more of a suggestion - one that you could get behind. “Perhaps the couch, or maybe our bed, hm?” Her hum at the end only sweetened the deal- This was something you could get behind.

The rain pitter pattered against the windows, New York rain wasn't uncommon- just untalked about. You stood in the kitchen and watched the raindrops run down the window next to the fridge, taking a swig from your mug every few moments. It was a comfortable silence.

That was until the thud of footsteps interrupted, his bare feet stepping on the hardwood floors of your apartment- the yawn he let out was a knife cutting through the silence. He scratched at himself under the shirt he wore, groggily looking at you from across the room. “Morning” he let out another yawn halfway through.

You smile over at him, setting down your cup and leaning against the counter. “It's almost noon.” You corrected him, watching as he blinked slowly and just stood halfway in your living room.

“No,” he said before elaborating “I just woke up. That means it's morning.” The way he said it was so matter of fact-ly, walking over around the kitchen counter and coming up behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on the back of your neck- snuggling in like a cat would.

Nodding slowly, you rested a hand on his. “So that's how it works” you feigned understandment in a teasing way, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. “Yep, little do you know, I also have the power to control time.” He said, laughing at his own dumb statement.

“Really?” You turn your head to look at him, though you only see the top of his head, “The more I learn about you, Peter.” Both of you silently chuckled at how ridiculous it was, him lifting his head to look up at you a little.

Slowly, his hands grab your shirt and turn you around so you face him. Your back is now against the counter, his arms still around you as you both look at each other with loving eyes. “Good morning, then” you say before pressing a kiss to his lips, it was simple but filled with love.

“Morning” he repeats, leaning in for another kiss.

Tippy Toe sat on a pillowed chair, watching the TV that played some random show on one of the millions of streaming services you owned. Doreen sat huddled in your arm, hers wrapping around yours, her full weight practically on your side.

“Wait, so he doesn't love her?” Doreen asked, subconsciously her hand moving to rest higher on your side. “Doesn't seem like it.” You answered her question, ruffling her hair gently while your other hand fiddled with the remote to play the next episode.

She lets out a frustrated huff, “well I can't see how anyone would do that.” you glanced over at her, letting out an ‘oh?’ to question her. “Not loving someone you're dating, absolutely absurd!” She complains, raising a hand to point at the guy that was the topic of your discussion as the episode recap played.

“Yeah,” you agreed, pulling her close “I can't either.” She looks up at you with a bright smile. “I know you can't resist my pretty squirrel charm” she says with pride, pushing up more against you as her tail comes to wrap closer to you.

“I certainly can't” you said back, leaning down to peck at her cheek, pulling back to skip the show intro. Though she wasn't satisfied with that, moving to grab the neck of your shirt and pulled you down so she could get another kiss. Her lips met yours in a playful kiss.

The two of you sat like that for a bit, simply enjoying the others embrace and the kiss. But then the two of you pulled away with smiles, Doreen going back to resting on you.

“Wait, rewind, we totally just missed something important.”

-----

Tag list!!

@ihrtsamwinchester

@ghost-candyyy

@fun-k-boards

[yannawayne]

vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

 ༻⊰───⋅

"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God.  And I'd get Him to swap our places.  Be runnin' up that road.  Be runnin' up that hill  Be runnin' up that building. 

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain. 

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts. 

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy. 

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple,  offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle. 

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous. 

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings. 

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. ��Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage. 

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen. 

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them. 

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. 

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window. 

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements. 

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night. 

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm. 

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you. 

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

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dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well