#and then something happens and he’s forced back to being nothing but a hero

[mx-legend-of-faye]

Guys do you ever stop to think about how hard Wild must’ve struggled to find his sense of self?

His Hyrule was full of people telling him he’s a hero and he needs to save them, or alternatively that he doesn’t exist at all anymore since he was told he was the hero but then everyone knows the hero is gone?

So Wild, with no memories of who he was before, but all his kindness and readiness to help still in tact, goes on to become the hero of his Hyrule once again. At that point, a hero is all he really knows he is, and it’s all he’s told he’s allowed to be. Hyrule needs a hero, so that’s what Wild is.

Sure, he learned some things he really enjoys, and makes the best of them …but remind me how he came to learn them? Because even on his way to save Zelda and Hyrule, he stops to help others with smaller tasks? And those people teach him things in return? Because he helped them? Because with no memories, Wild woke up, and was told he needed to be helpful?

And when Zelda was safe and Hyrule was no longer under threat from the Calamity, where does that leave Wild, a hero with nothing to save his people from?

When your job that made you who you are is completed, and you can no longer remember the feel of your mother’s hugs or the sound of your father’s voice, where does that leave you? Who are you after that?

Wild had to relearn a lot more than you first might think. Wild had to relearn how to be a person. He had to relearn who he was as a person.

And he will never again be the same person as who Zelda remembers him being. He will never again be the child his parents raised.

He’s someone new, and it’s great and it’s exciting and he gets to exist now without expectations, but there was a period of time where he was a shell of person with no sense of self until he was told by all around him that his purpose was to help and to save.

So he didn’t get to start from a blank slate and become who he wanted. He had to have his purpose become an almost null point once he beat the Calamity. He had to start discovering who he is, not from the ground up, but from the ruins of who he thought he was, who everyone needed him to be.

My train of thought has left its tracks and so I’ll bring this to an end here. I hope what I was saying was coherent, I am very tired right now so—

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

i'm too proud to talk to you anyway !

synopsis : but if you do, don't you know, that i don't mind...

an. im pretty sure this is the first time ive ever written non bf katsuki/ non childhood friend suki ever...im going thru withdrawal eugh...n e wayss! i thought this was a cute silly concept and i hope i did well ! hope yall enjoy :3

cw. nothing i think ! fluff, forced proximity i think ? katsuki's a potty mouth but..it's katsuki, reader is a sweetie, reader says thank you and sorry a lot so i mightve been projecting a bit sorry twins lolol :P, katsuki is referred to as bkg and it hurts my heart..like thats my man we aint casual </3 katsuki is lowkey pining but unaware and in denial, reader is in the bksquad ! lmk if i missed sum else !

shit, shit, shit. you were this close.

you pant and groan in annoyance, seeing your train about to depart just as you arrived at the terminal.

shit, you knew you shouldn't have slept in !

you loved taking this train because it never got too full. sure, there were always people commuting early but you had the luxury of not being squished to death in a train that, by the time you got to school, resembled a can of sardines.

you could make it, you were a hero-in-training ! you'd built up your stamina for moments like this...probably ! definitely !

so you continue running with all your strength, you don't think you'd ever run this fast just to catch a train in your life, but you remember what happened to kaminari when he ended up late during mr. aizawa's morning class and you'd rather not have to run extra laps.

so you run, and before you can reach for the doors, an arm stops them from closing just in time for you to jump in.

thanking everything that was holy, you jump in ready, to profusely thank your saviour. but you stop short when you realise who had saved you.

one of your classmates, bakugou katsuki.

"oh." you can't stop yourself from releasing the sound when you see him, but manage to fix your face and offer him a smile.

bakugou squints at you, scoffing before looking away.

well, you'd expected something like this.

you didn't talk to bakugou much. you'd always found him and his quirk amazing, especially during training, and he was actually a really good sparring partner. he took you seriously and he was more clever then you thought he was.(with the way he was always rushing into fights head first)

he also gave you a semblance of advice one time, at least you think so...there was definitely some type of advice hidden in between all that cursing.

but he was objectively quite the asshole.

the only reason you even started hanging out was because kirishima liked to invite him to hang out with you all during lunch. sometimes he tagged along, and sometimes he told him to fuck off. but kirishima always being determined and naturally friendly never stopped asking him. you assume that's why he'd been coming along with you guys more often now. guess nobody could resist the boy's manly charm.

and yeah, he was a dick. but you had to admit his quips and his back and forth with sero was pretty funny. the problem was that you have a feeling he doesn't like you. you specifically, for a reason you're unaware of.

you'd never been rude to him, not even teasing him as much as the rest of your friend group did (watching him blow up was always funnier anyway) but despite that it just seemed like he couldn't tolerate being around you for some reason. he always keeps his responses short and snippy, never even looking your way when you tried to strike conversation.

kirishima had told you once he was probably "just awkward, he's just that kinda guy ! maybe he's just too shy talk to you !" which you highly doubted but decided to keep your mouth shut.

you won't force conversation with him, you had no obligation to. but you do feel thankful that he hadn't let you embarrass yourself. and you really wanna thank him.

it takes you a few minutes to catch your breath, and three stops to find the courage to actually talk to him. but before you can open your mouth again, a huge group of people storm into the train, leaving you to gasp in surprise.

what the hell ? there aren't supposed to be so many people here, at least not in your sacred train !! what was going on ?!

to your utter dismay and irritation, you're being pushed and shoved around for other people to claim their places, growing more annoyed at the people shoving and insisting their was space and telling others to "please move along!"

"fucking hell..." you mutter, irritated.

"could fuckin' say that again."

you look up to see bakugou looking ahead at nothing. his scowl is ever present, if not harsher, and he grunts when he feels someone shove his shoulder, shoving them back with a growl. must be nice having balls of steel.

"oh, woops. sorry.." you apologise, trying your very best not to press up against him too much. despite the train crowding more and more.

"whatever. just stop squirming."

"it's not like i'm doing it on purpose !" you hiss defensively. bakugou rolls his eyes, but remains quiet.

you feel an arm in you rib and instinctively lean away, thus closer to bakugou. his eyes flit down towards you, but again, he says nothing.

"ugh—uhm, thank you—for this morning." you whisper, you're close enough where you're sure he can hear you. "you really saved me back there." you joke.

bakugou doesn't miss a beat, looking down at you with an eyebrow raised "yeah well. guess i felt nice for a change and didn't want you to embarrass yourself, running after the train like an idiot."

your face warms and you furrow your brows 'i was gonna make it."

he huffs out a laugh, you think this is the first time you've seen him do anything but frown. "sure, keep telling yourself that."

suddenly, the train comes to an abrupt halt. causing passengers to exclaim and jolt around, one such passenger bumps against you, shoving you forward. you trip, landing straight against bakugou's chest. your nose hurts as soon as you make contact. you'd seen how ripped this guy was, but was he genuinely made out of fucking stone ?!

your eyes snap open when an arm—his arm, wraps around your shoulder to stabilise you, he mutters curses under his breath towards the train constructor. he smells nice. you brace yourself against his chest.

"watch it, dumbass." he warns lowly. his voice quivers just a bit, like he's holding something back.

"...sorry. my bad." you squeak. the next time the train comes to a halt, you practically jump away from each other, avoiding looking each other in the eye while still being forced so close. you do notice the way that bakugou's arm stays behind your shoulder just a little bit longer. you notice but pretend you don't. looking up at him through the corner of your eye you see the way his jaw is set tight. you quickly look away.

(you don't notice him looking at you.)

after a certain stop, the train finally empties out. you take a deep breath, giving bakugou one last glance before finding a free spot to sit and finally relax your shoulders.

you jump when bakugou sits in the spot beside yours. there weren't that many left open, but there were definitely still way more free spots away from you.

"thanks, again." you mutter, avoiding eye contact.

bakugou grits his teeth, groaning like you saying those words pained him. or irritated him (or both.)

"stop thanking me, just didn't wanna get knocked over. fuckin' bastards fell limp like a stack of dominoes.."

his response makes you snorts unexpectedly, "yeah, it's usually not this full."

"s'cus the previous train got cancelled. somethin' about an accident." your classmate explains.

you blink in surprise, was bakugou—your most explosive antisocial classmate—actually having a genuine conversation with you ?!

and suddenly you can't think of anything else to say besides "oh, makes sense."

"well, anyway...even if you didn't mean to, i'm glad. means i won't have to get crucified by mr. aizawa for being late.."

bakugou scoffs, but it sounds almost like a disguised laugh.

the announcer calls for the next stop, two more stops and you'll get off.

then, a lightbulb.

"oh, hey. i didn't know you took this train too ! i've never seen you."

bakugou doesn't look at you, squinting at himself through the opposite window, his leg bounces.

"usually sit in the front."

you raise an eyebrow "what made you come to the back ?"

"q-quit questioning me, dammit ! your ass should be grateful i was even in the back so you didn't fuckin' slice your hand off !"

now this was more like the bakugou you were familiar with, and for some reason this puts you at ease. you laugh at his defensiveness, and bakugou visibly un-tenses. he leans back and rests his head into his palm, muttering about you being "so damn weird..."

you manage to arrive to school without any further hiccups. and despite bakugou not actively making conversation with you, his strides almost match yours, like he wants you to catch up to him. and even though he barely gives you a nod when you wave at him later in between classes, you feel like you've gotten closer to him somehow. anyway, you're just glad to know he doesn't despise you.

when kirishima invites him to hang out during lunch today and you and your other friends wait for a response from him, some of your friends egging him on, you catch the way his eyes meet yours before he reluctantly agrees, calling your friends "fuckin' clingy".

he sits next to you during lunch.

kaminari whines about it, saying something about how he stole his spot.

"you snooze you fuckin' lose, dunce face." bakugou quips, causing your table to laugh.

unbeknownst to you, bakugou wonders why he'd decided to agree to hang out with you all more and more often lately. you and your lame ass friends had become a constant nuisance in his life. especially you.

ever since he'd noticed you, really noticed you and your strength when you'd paired up with him during training, you'd always been hanging in the back of his mind. your voice was always the first one he heard in crowds, your face was always the one he just so happened to look for see first, and your stupid perfume seemed to cling to him everywhere he went, ultimately always leading him to you.

shit, you were really fucking annoying.

unbeknownst to you, bakugou wonders why he decided to sit in the back as well.

cashmoneyyystuff © 2025. hey, this is my stuff ! please don't copy or modify it, that's very weird and lame and i'll cry. if you want to take inspiration from one of my works, just let me know or mention me in your post <3

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[angelx]

Say It Again

cw: nsfw: brat tamer!katsuki x fem!reader, taunting, brat taming, punishment, spanking, edging, fingering, dirty talking, degradation, praise, mention of safe word, hair grabbing, rough sex, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, long intro my bad

You'd been needling him all damn day.

Snide comments under your breath. Passive-aggressive digs over dinner. Calling him “perfect little pro hero” with that sarcastic lilt he hated. Not flirting. Not playing. Just pushing.

And he took it. Took it like the man he was—stoic, tight-lipped, jaw clenched. But he wasn’t stupid. He saw the way your eyes sparkled every time you poked the bear. You wanted him to break.

You just didn’t think he actually would.

You were sprawled across the bed now, scrolling your phone like you hadn’t just spent the last hour using your words like knives.

“You gonna glare at me all night, or are you finally gonna grow the fuck up?” you muttered.

Katsuki didn’t answer at first. He sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Breathing steady. Too steady. You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, say something. You’ve been pouting like a kicked puppy all day.”

Still nothing.

You smirked. Dangerous. “What, you don’t like it when I treat you the way you treat everyone else? Sucks being on the receiving end, huh?”

That’s when he stood up. Slow. Deliberate. Like he had to manually suppress the urge to snap your phone in half.

“You done?” he asked, voice low.

You shrugged, feigning boredom. “Not really. But I’m getting there.”

He took one step closer. “You think I won’t put you on your fuckin’ knees for that mouth?”

You looked up, defiant. "I think you’ve gone soft, Bakugou. You used to fuck the attitude out of me. Now you just sulk like a little bitch.”

That did it. That broke him.

His jaw ticked. His eyes narrowed like he was calculating how hard he could wreck you without breaking the bed frame. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You sat up, tossing your phone aside. “Oh, now you’re listening?”

He grabbed you by the jaw so fast it made your breath catch.

“You really wanna test me tonight, princess?” he growled, thumb pressed against your lower lip. “You really wanna see what the fuck happens when I stop being nice?”

“I’ve been waiting,” you bit back, lips curling into a grin. “Or maybe you’re all bark now.”

His hand dropped to your throat—not choking, just holding, reminding you he could. His voice dipped into something darker than anything you'd heard from him in weeks.

“You’re not gonna walk tomorrow.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Then maybe I’ll shut up for once.”

He threw you down on the bed. Clothes? Ripped. Panties? Torn off with one brutal yank. His hands were everywhere—manhandling, pinning, flipping you over like you weighed nothing.

You pushed him too far this time. The smart mouth. The taunts. The absolute disrespect. You wanted to piss him off. Needed him to remind you who the fuck you belonged to. And unfortunately for you?

He finally decided to indulge you. So now you’re naked—thrown over his lap like a spoiled little brat—squirming while his calloused palm delivers sharp, deliberate smacks to your ass, each one hotter and rougher than the last.

“You think this is a game?” SMACK.

His hand cracked against your skin with a force that echoed in the silence.

“You think you can mouth off, act like some insufferable little brat—” SMACK “—and I won’t do something about it?”

You gasped, legs twitching, body jostled forward with every hit. But you didn’t apologize. Not yet. Not when your pride still clawed at your throat.

“Go on,” he spat, towering over you, chest heaving with restraint stretched to its breaking point. “Keep fucking pushing me. Keep pretending you don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”

Another smack, harder, and you choked on a moan.

“I’ve been patient. I’ve held back. I’ve let you snap at me, mock me, bite every goddamn hand that tried to love you.” His fingers dug into the curve of your ass, nails biting into your skin. “And you think I won’t remind you who the fuck owns this body?”

Two more hits. Sharp, punishing. One to each cheek.

“By the time I’m done with you,” he growled, voice rough, dangerous, “You’ll be begging for mercy. You’ll forget every word except my fuckin’ name.”

You whimpered, eyes already burning. He grabbed your hair, yanked your head back just enough to see the panic-glazed lust in your eyes. You were already dripping, thighs twitching, biting back moans like it wouldn’t betray how much this punishment turned you on.

“Tch. Look at this pussy,” he sneered, fingers running between your soaked folds. “You get off on this shit, huh? Act like a bitch all day just to get your ass beat.”

He shoved two fingers inside you suddenly, and you gasped, hips jerking, grinding down on them—until he pulled them out.

“Ah ah. That’s not how this works,” he growled, dragging you off his lap and tossing you on the bed like you weighed nothing. “You don’t get to come. Not yet.”

He tied your wrists to the headboard. Loose enough to be safe, tight enough to make your heart race. You whined, tugging against the restraints. Even when he's rough, he still makes sure everything is safe. He will stop if she says she wants to stop, especially when she uses her safe word.

“Katsuki—”

Slap. Not hard, just a sharp sting against your inner thigh.

“Don’t talk. Not unless I say so.”

He dropped to his knees, pulling your legs apart. “You want my mouth?” he teased, breath ghosting over your soaked cunt. “You think you earned it?”

You said nothing. He didn’t move.

“Answer me.”

“…No,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

You swallowed. “N-No, sir.”

His grin was dark. Proud. Predatory.

“Damn right.”

And then he started—tongue lapping at your clit, slow and lazy. Teasing. Fingers spreading you open while he circled your swollen bud, humming like he was savoring dessert. You gasped, back arching, thighs trembling. But just when you were about to fall over the edge—He stopped. You screamed.

“KATSUKI—!”

Another slap to your thigh. He stood up, licking his fingers slowly, watching you fall apart. “You don’t get to come until you’ve learned.”

The edging didn’t happen once. Or twice. He edged you four times. You were sobbing by the end of it. Voice hoarse. Body thrumming with heat. Eyes glassy. Your thighs wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I need it—Katsuki, please, I’ll be good, I swear I’ll—”

He grabbed your face. “Say it again.”

“I’ll be good,” you hiccupped. “I’ll be so good for you, I swear, Katsuki, please—!”

That’s when he undid the restraints and flipped you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up to meet him. You barely had time to breathe. He didn’t even prep you. Just spat into his hand and stroked his cock once before shoving in, thick and unforgiving, dragging a broken moan from your lips.

You screamed.

“That’s it,” he growled, fucking into you like a man possessed. “Now you remember who owns this fuckin’ pussy. Who you come to when you’re desperate. When you need your bratty ass put in check.”

You tried to squirm away, gasping, but he pinned you by the hips and slammed back in, making you cry out.

“Not so smart now, huh? Where’s all that fuckin’ mouth?” He grabbed your hair, yanked your head back to whisper in your ear. “Say some shit now. I dare you.”

You couldn’t. Not through the breathless moans and hiccupped cries. He fucked you rough, mean, brutal like punishment. Your legs shook. Your body curled in on itself. He pulled orgasm after orgasm from you until your voice was gone, your mascara was running, and your defiance was just gone.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Only cry and moan and thank him, even when your orgasm hit like a truck—violent, involuntary, and so intense you thought you might black out. He didn’t stop. Not when you clenched. Not when you whined. Not when your legs gave out.

“I’ll tell you when we’re done,” he hissed. “You come when I say. You stop when I’m satisfied.”

When he finally came—deep inside, growling through his teeth—he didn’t pull out. He leaned over you, breathing heavily, his weight keeping you caged beneath him.

You were shaking, panting, ruined—but when he pulled you into his chest afterward, kissing your forehead and whispering “You did so fuckin’ good for me, princess,” it was almost enough to make you cry again.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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[tojicide]

chapter three ── pepper spray.

the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb ��� fem!reader.

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, credit to @/haven__ly on x for the middle pic, mdni

chapter summary. ┆ caleb tries to adapt to his newfound role as the web-slinging hero of linkon city, and you receive the opportunity of a lifetime.

chapter warnings. ┆ slightly sexually suggestive content and a little bit of bodily harm…… but nothing too crazy i swear!

prev: chapter two. ┆ series masterlist. ┆ next: chapter four.

“Aw, come on. Again?”

Caleb feels like he’s been at this for hours. Realistically, it’s been four minutes—maybe five—but time stretches a bit slower when all you do is fail.

He straightens up, tugging at the red ski mask that clings to his face. Despite the crisp morning air, the layers he’s wearing are doing him no favors. The mask in particular is itchy, tight, and, if he’s being honest, suffocating. Maybe you were right—maybe he did have big head syndrome.

But he pushes that thought aside, rolling his shoulders back and planting his feet firmly against the rooftop. With careful precision, he flicks his wrist toward the corner of Mama Louisa’s Pastry Shop—a well-loved business by both himself and every other Linkon University student running on caffeine and sugar. Hopefully she won’t mind him using her bakery as a makeshift training ground.

He tenses his wrist again, and finally—finally—a strand of silk shoots from his pulse point… only for a gentle breeze to carry it away like it’s nothing more than stray thread from a sweater.

Caleb exhales sharply through his nose. Okay. That’s fine. Progress is progress.

He tries again. Fails again, too.

But then, on his next attempt, something changes. He can feel it. A flick of his wrist, the perfect angle with just the right amount of tension.

Thwip!

The web sticks, thick and sturdy like the ones he’d shot in his dorm room, right against the bakery’s awning.

Caleb grins so wide it could rival the Empire State Building. He doesn’t fully understand why this is happening—these heightened senses, the silk-slinging, the unnatural strength—but if his research means anything, it all traces back to the spider bite in the university lab. Probably. If he were to be honest, it’s more of an educated guess for the moment.

Without thinking twice, he sprints forward and leaps from the rooftop. In hindsight, thinking twice might’ve been a good idea, because when he goes to shoot another web at the next building, his aim is—how should he put this?—gods awful.

The silk completely misses its mark, latching onto a birch tree instead. And before Caleb can course-correct, he goes slamming into it face-first.

BAM!

Leaves rustle. Branches snap. Somewhere, a pigeon squawks in alarm, and it might be simultaneously scolding Caleb in a language he can’t understand.

He groans, peeling himself away from the tree trunk, only to find himself tangled in a mess of twigs and leaves.

“Mister!”

He blinks, his brain still rattled from the impact.

“Mister! Down here!”

It takes a second for his senses to recalibrate, but once they do, he follows the tiny voice downward until his gaze lands on a little girl standing at the tree’s base. She looks no older than five, her curly hair swallowing her small face as the wind ruffles through it. Despite her tiny stature, she stands with her hands on her hips, staring up at him with a look of determination.

She points upward. “Can you get Mr. Pickles? He’s scared of heights.”

Caleb blinks again, squinting in the direction of her tiny finger.

And there, perched precariously on a flimsy branch, is a scrawny grey cat.

“Mr. Pickles?” he mutters, already moving before he can think twice. (And this time, that was a good thing.)

His fingers stick effortlessly to the tree bark as he climbs, his static cling allowing him to crawl along the surface like he was made for this. He scales the trunk with ease, reaching the trembling feline in a matter of seconds.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he coos, slowly wrapping an arm around the cat and tucking him securely against his chest. “You’re alright. No need to be scared now.”

Once he makes his way back down, he lands gracefully on his feet, adjusting the cat in his arms before handing him off.

The little girl grins, cradling Mr. Pickles like he’s the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, mister!”

Caleb smiles. “No problem, sweetheart.”

She beams up at him before dashing back toward a nearby apartment building. “I’ll give Mr. Pickles a hug for you!”

“Make it extra warm for me, yeah?”

“Okay!”

And just like that, she’s gone, disappearing behind the lobby doors with her newly rescued companion.

The air is cold, the streets quiet. No sirens, which was a luxury these days. The perfect time for a peaceful stroll.

Or, in Caleb’s case, the perfect time to fail at web-slinging.

That was fine, though. No one saw.

Except for a small child who owned a runaway cat.

Caleb walks down the sidewalk in an attempt to forget about the embarrassment of the moment, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie, the ski mask still clinging uncomfortably to his face. The whole city feels half-asleep, barely stirring under the early sun, and for once, Caleb lets himself enjoy it. Well, as much as he possibly can enjoy something after a morning of throwing himself at trees and towards buildings.

“Excuse me, young man?”

Caleb halts, turning to find an elderly woman peering up at him through thick-framed glasses, her wrinkled face pulled into a look of concern. She clutches a tote bag to her side, a plaid scarf wrapped neatly around her hair.

“I just saw you help that young girl, and I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of the nearest dry cleaners,” she asks, adjusting her grip on the bag. “I swear, my memory is getting worse by the day. It’s around here somewhere, I just can’t seem to—”

“Oh, yeah, it’s just a few blocks down,” he gently interrupts, gesturing toward the street corner. “Take a left at the bakery right over there and then it’s right past the old bookstore. Can’t miss it, I promise.”

The woman sighs in relief. “Oh, you’re an angel, thank you! I was walking in the wrong direction for who knows how long.”

Caleb chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Happens to the best of us.”

“I hope you have a wonderful day, sweetheart,” she says, already turning to go in the direction he’d gestured to.

He offers a charming smile that reaches his eyes. “You too, ma’am.”

And with that, he continues down the sidewalk, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s funny, really. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he actually enjoys this aspect of his new predicament more than he originally anticipated. Helping people, even if it’s just with the small stuff. Before, it seemed like those opportunities were fleeting, and now, they laid around him in abundance. 

Then, just as he’s about to take a right onto the next block…

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!

His head snaps toward the alleyway up ahead. A car alarm wails through the narrow space between buildings, the sharp noise sending a jolt of electricity straight down his spine.

And before he can think—before he can even process what was going on—his legs are already moving. Maybe that was a new impulse that the spider bite had brought upon him, too.

He sprints into the alley, heart hammering wildly in his chest, and that’s when he sees him.

A man hunched over the driver’s side door of an old blue sedan, hands fumbling with a crowbar against the handle. He’s working fast—too fast and too irresponsibly—not even sparing a glance over his shoulder as the alarm screeches on.

Caleb doesn’t hesitate. His wrist flicks.

Thwip!

The web shoots out before he even registers it happening, sticking clean onto the man’s hand… and the door handle he was prying open.

“What the—”

The guy jerks back instinctively, only to realize that his hand isn’t going anywhere.

Caleb halts to a stop a few feet away, breathing hard, adrenaline singing through his veins.

Sirens wail in the distance, he then realizes. 

The thief panics, tugging at his hand with increasing desperation. “What the hell? Get this off me, man! What is this—glue?”

Caleb tilts his head, taking a slow step forward. “Tch. What glue do you know that looks like that? You’ve got the mind of a real scholar, you know. Ever thought about givin’ up grand theft auto for Harvard?”

The sirens grow louder.

The man flails now, yanking at his wrist, his feet slipping against the pavement. “C’mon, man, you gotta— you gotta help me out here.”

“Yeah, see, I don’t think I do,” Caleb muses, his heartbeat finally slowing to something steady, something that was almost calm. 

“What are you? A cop?”

Caleb tilts his head. Even through the mask, his deadpan is palpable. “Really, man?” he drawls. “You think I’m a cop?”

The thief scoffs, loud and hard, shaking his head like Caleb is the idiot here. “Tch. Whatever.”

Then, his free hand vanishes into his coat. When it returns to his line of sight, a blade flashes before he even has time to blink. “Don’t make me use this, kid.”

A knife. A whole kitchen knife. Serrated edges, too. Probably stolen. Probably dirty. Probably the worst attempt at a threat that he has ever seen in his entire life.

Caleb gasps. Theatrically. He drops straight to his knees, too, his arms flying up over his head in a show of fake panic. “A kitchen knife? No! No, please spare me!”

The guy nods. “Yeah, that’s right. Just let me go, and—”

Thwip!

The thief jerks, eyes so wide they nearly bulge out of his skull.

And just like that, his mouth is gone.

Well. Not gone, gone. Just… thoroughly webbed shut.

“Mmph! Mm— mmph!”

Caleb straightens up, resting his hands on his hips as he tilts his head, a layer of faux sympathy dripping from his voice. “Sorry, what was that? Couldn’t quite catch it.”

The guy flails once more.

Useless. Helpless. Pathetic.

So pathetic that it almost makes Caleb feel bad. Almost. 

Then the sirens return. They’re more persistent now. Louder. Closer. 

Flashing red and blue swallow the alley, bouncing off the walls like stage lights for the thief’s almost-perfect crime.

The man whips his head toward them. Caleb follows his gaze, then hums, turning back with a single gloved finger pressed over his own masked mouth. 

“Sh.”

He disappears before the first cop even steps out of the car, and as he whisks into the city, slipping between alleyways, a single thought loops through his mind. 

He can do something with this.

Like... really do something. 

Not just helping lost grandmas and rescuing stranded cats.

But this…

This was something that went far beyond what the Linkon PD was capable of: stopping the bad guys before they got away.

And now, he swings with a newfound ease, a confidence that wasn’t there before, flipping between buildings, twisting through the bright glow of billboards. Caleb finally gets it. The mechanics, the rhythm, the thrill of it. The way the city unfolds before him like a playground of concrete and steel.

Beneath him, people point. People cheer. People wonder.

But one man does not wonder.

One man knows.

That man stands just outside a quiet café, his untouched tea steaming in his hands, his sharp gaze never leaving the sky. He was on his way toward the Oscorp building in the distance, his badge reading Dr. Curtis Connors — Head Biologist. 

Unlike the others, he does not gape. He does not cheer.

He only watches.

His glasses slip down his nose as he tilts his head, following the figure’s trajectory with a stare so focused and precise it could slice through bone. His mind moves faster than his pulse. Not a suit. Not a rig. Not a device. No, no—it’s organic. The silk isn’t shot from him. It belongs to him.

His fingers twitch.

Click.

The photo is grainy due to the shakiness of his grip, but the silhouette is unmistakable.

Curtis Connors exhales slowly through his nose, fingers already moving, already typing, already sending. His recipients were none other than the student team who wrote for the medical journalism column in the Linkon University Chronicle. 

Curtis Connors: [image attachment] Find out as much info as you can on this figure.

He watches the message send. Then, he watches as this figure, as blissfully unaware as can be, swings off into the sky—free and untouchable.

For now.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but you don’t have half the mind to reach for it—not when a sea of sorority girls is already waving you down with welcoming smiles and outstretched arms.

“Tara!” you greet, barely getting the word out before she yanks you into a bear hug that nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“You came!” she squeals. “I totally thought you were gonna back out at the last minute.”

“How could I?” you reply, returning the hug before reaching for Cleo, who wraps her arms around you like she hasn’t seen you in years. “I made a commitment. I had to follow through, even if midterms are coming for my throat and I haven’t touched my biology flashcards in, like… two weeks.”

Tara laughs, shaking her head. “You worry too much. Just relax, have some fun. You deserve it.” Then, she leans in conspiratorially, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Plus… he who shall not be named isn’t even here. I think he bailed. You might actually be Caleb-free today.”

Your eyes widen with a gleam that could outshine a kid in a candy store. A sunny afternoon with your friends? Caleb-free? Total score.

“I love your suit!” Cleo chirps, dragging your attention back to Earth. Her fingers lightly trace the hem of your bikini top. “It suits your skin tone so well. Where’d you get it?”

You glance toward the sky like the clouds might give you your memory back. “Uh… probably Target? Like, two years ago?”

“Well, I’m definitely raiding the swimwear section before Spring Break,” she laughs, handing you a half-full bucket of water. She pauses for a moment, then adds with a grin, “I mean seriously—that top is really working for you.”

You laugh, awkwardly tucking the large bucket against your torso. “Thanks. I thought it might’ve been… too much,” you say, gesturing a hand over your chest.

“No, no!” Tara interjects immediately, hands flying into the air like she’s warding off some curse. “It’s the perfect amount of boobage.”

You eyebrows raise. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she says with full confidence.

Before you can say much at all, Cleo’s voice cuts in like a bullet. “Looks like someone else thinks so too.”

“Someone else? Who…?”

But you don’t finish. Your voice trails off the second your eyes follow her pointed gaze.

Across the lot. Lambda Chi Alpha’s side. Shirtless guys joking and slinging sudsy water at each other like they're in a beer commercial. But your gaze settles on one in particular.

Caleb.

Shirt off. Abs fully present and accounted for—all eight of them, you made sure to count. Somehow looking even better than he did a few days ago, which is rude. Biceps glistening from the sun and suds. Hair a mess in the best possible way. And those arms—Gods, those arms should be studied in a lab.

“Yoohoo?” Tara sings, tapping your forehead like she’s knocking on a front door.

You blink, snapping out of your trance. “What?”

Tara and Cleo exchange an all-knowing look.

“I thought you didn’t want to see Caleb today,” Tara says with a lopsided smile.

“I don’t.”

“And yet…” Cleo gestures broadly, “there you were. Gawking.”

You scoff. “I can dislike someone and still objectively—totally objectively—acknowledge that they might not be the most hideous person to walk the Earth.”

Cleo hums. “Uh-huh. Totally objective.”

“It is an objective observation!”

“Sure, sure,” Tara teases. “Just science. A visual data analysis of muscle definition.”

You sigh, pointing at her. “Exactly.”

. . .

Caleb isn’t faring much better.

In fact, he’s doing worse. A lot worse.

He tries to apply logic to the situation. To rationalize the incredibly logicless mess he has found himself in.

It must be his new senses—yeah, that has to be it. His body adjusting, his nervous system overcompensating, deciding that now, of all godforsaken times, would be a great moment to send every ounce of blood in his body to a very unhelpful location.

His eyes widen, panic rising in his chest.

No. No, no, no. This is not happening.

Almost instinctively, he wrenches himself away from your general direction, physically turning his body like that alone will make his predicament less of a predicament.

It’s not his fault.

Seriously. It’s not.

No amount of superability could ever counteract the very human reality that, at the end of the day, Caleb Xia is just a man.

A man with… an appreciation for certain assets.

And today, his attention seems to have locked onto yours in particular.

Now isn’t the time for this. There would never be a time for this. He feels horrible, like a pathetic schoolboy with zero control over his own body.

Somewhere in his haze of absolute distress, his dog tag ends up wedged between his teeth, because apparently, his body has decided that biting metal is his last line of defense against catastrophic embarrassment.

Gran naked. Gran naked. Gran naked.

He squeezes his eyes shut, practically chanting the words in his head to paint a better picture like a desperate exorcism.

Gran naked. Gran naked. Gran na—

“You’re going to ruin those if you bite on them any harder.”

Caleb’s entire brain short-circuits.

His eyes snap open, locking onto yours. You’re standing there, bucket in your arms, tilting your head at him like he’s some kind of science experiment gone wrong.

He is barely keeping himself together.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

But then, you pout.

“Go on, boy,” you tease, voice dangerously sweet, mockingly condescending, like you’re talking to a dog. “Drop ‘em.”

His entire soul leaves his body. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he finally drops the dog tag from his teeth.

You beam at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair like he actually is a well-trained mutt. “Good boy!”

Caleb scoffs, swatting your hand away. “Shut up.”

You laugh, and he hates how much he likes the sound of it.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” you grin, reaching into the bucket. “Here’s your treat.”

Before he can react, a water-soaked sponge lands smack against his chest with a loud slap.

“You’re the worst,” he grumbles, peeling the sponge off as you shut off the hose and hoist your bucket back into your arms.

“Sure I am,” you chirp. “Good luck, waterboy.”

Caleb huffs, his head snapping up as you begin to walk past him. “The newbie is callin’ me a waterboy? Who brought in the most customers last year again?”

“Blah, blah, blah,” you say through a sigh, waving him off. “Who cares about last year?”

He’s about to counter—because he cares, and his title as reigning champ of the car wash must be defended at all costs—but then, you stop right beside him.

And for the love of all things holy, the air thickens.

You turn slightly, tilting your chin, that same smug glint in your eyes. “I, for one, certainly don’t care about last year. You’ll have to work harder this time around, anyway.”

Caleb narrows his eyes. “Why’s that?”

You don’t answer verbally. With a small sway of your fingers toward the parking lot, you point his attention elsewhere. Delta Gamma’s station currently had a long, ever-growing line of cars. A parade of eager customers at your fingertips.

Caleb exhales slowly. “Ah.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum knowingly.

And then you look him over. Blatant in a way that makes him shiver. Up. Down. Unrushed. Deliberate. Unfair.

And then, just like that, you pivot on your heel. “Gotta go.”

Before you can fully escape, his hand catches your wrist.

“Hey, hey, hey— not so fast,” he murmurs, voice dropping just slightly. Just enough. “If you’re so confident… maybe we should bet on it.”

You stop and turn back toward him. There’s a competitive glint in your eye. It’s exciting. 

And unfortunately, it’s doing nothing to help with the currently unsolved issue in his shorts.

“Alright.” It takes zero hesitation. The opportunity to publicly defeat Caleb Xia is simply too good to pass up. “You’re on.”

His lips curl into an almost-there smile. “Terms?”

Your smile should be legally registered as a deadly weapon. “Loser has to wash the winner’s car… and purposely take a B- on the next lab report.”

Caleb lifts a brow. “You don’t have much to lose.”

You shrug, all casual, all effortless charm, and it’s killing him.

“Nope,” you reply smoothly. “I have everything to gain.”

Caleb should be fighting for his life against whatever spell you’ve just cast over him.

Instead, he falls for it.

(Hook. Line. Sinker.)

“Fine,” he says, sliding his hold from your wrist to your palm, giving your hand a firm shake—his fingers lingering just a little too long against yours.

“You’re on.”

. . .

Caleb should have really thought this through.

But instead, he let you get under his skin, let your smug little grin trick him into underestimating you.

Big mistake, because not even five minutes in, the Delta Gamma girls are practically drowning in customers, and Caleb has barely started scrubbing down his first car.

Caleb squints in your direction. This is not fair.

It feels like only ten minutes pass by before he looks in your direction again, and this time, he finds himself sweating.

Partially from the sun, partially from watching you rinse off a car with zero mercy—your movements way too efficient for someone who supposedly hasn’t done this sort of thing before.

And still, he refuses to lose. He has to switch tactics.

If charm is your secret weapon, then it can be his too. It was his before it was yours, anyway.

He yawns, stretching his arms just enough to get the attention of a group of girls suspiciously and slowly passing by in a yellow slugbug.

"Hey," he greets, sending a smile their way as he leans against the car, muscles flexing just right. "Need a wash?"

And to no one’s surprise but your own, it works.

Unfortunately, by the time the car wash ends, the results are as clear as day—you won.

And now, here Caleb stood—arms crossed, lips pressed into a firm line, trying to accept his defeat.

“So,” he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, “when am I washing your car?”

Your grin turns dangerously smug. “Oh, I don’t have a car.”

Caleb stares at you like his brain needs a full reboot to comprehend what you just said.

“Sneaky.”

You shrug. “I prefer genius.”

"Not cool." Caleb shakes his head, his hands going to his hips. “I don’t like havin’ unpaid debts.”

“Well…” You rock back on your heels, tilting your head at him. “Maybe you can get creative. Find a new way to pay up.”

Caleb arches a brow. “Like?”

You hum, tapping your chin like you’re actually putting serious thought into it. “Hm… bring me coffee from the café every time we have a lecture.”

Caleb scoffs. “You're joking.”

“I'm not.”

He lets out a long, drawn out sigh. “Fine.”

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb knew as well as anyone that crime woke up when the city went to sleep.

So tonight, he stayed up to witness it. Maybe he’d do something good for the city. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he had to try. He had to.

It felt like something was calling to him, something so instinctive and certain that he couldn’t help but listen.

That was how he found himself here, sprawled across the roof of a liquor store, killing time with a game that had no winner. He flicked a pebble toward the ledge, watching as it bounced back near his hand. Again. Again. Anything to keep himself occupied while he listened for any sounds of trouble.

The bell of the liquor store’s entrance rang, and the sudden noise jolted through him, causing his grip to slip. Instead of hitting the ledge, the pebble sailed clean over the rooftop.

“Ouch!”

Caleb froze, and then scrambled to the edge of the roof, yanking his ski mask into place. He peered over the ledge, pulse spiking.

And when he saw who he’d just pelted in the head with a rock, he really should have expected it.

You.

Of course it was you, because why wouldn’t it be?

He watched as you winced, rubbing at the spot where the pebble had struck. You glanced around but, not seeing anyone, just sighed and continued down the sidewalk, bag of groceries clenched in your hand.

And as you walked, Caleb noticed a few things.

The way your pace sped up near the alleys. The way you slowed when you passed under a streetlamp, lingering just a second longer in the light. The way your fingers curled a little tighter around the grocery bag.

You were afraid, and he could understand why.

This wasn’t the best part of the city. It was dark and lonesome, a breeding ground for all things dangerous.

So, without much thinking—without even giving himself the chance to talk himself out of it—he decided to make sure you got home safe.

For purely vigilante reasons, of course.

. . .

You swear you’re not crazy, but someone is definitely following you.

The almost silent breathing. The faint but deliberate footsteps against pavement.

You pick up your pace, but curiosity is a terrible thing, and despite your better judgment, you glance over your shoulder.

And there he is: a shadow perched on the edge of a rooftop. Watching.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

What the hell? Was he… doing parkour? You huff, shaking your head. Not important.

Your pulse spikes, and your body reacts before your mind does. You do the only logical thing you can think of: you bolt.

Your bag slips from your grip, but you don’t have time to care. Every survival instinct you’ve ever had is screaming at you to run.

Like clockwork, the footsteps behind you quicken.

A voice speaks up. “Hey, you dropped your—“

Shrieking, you whip around mid-sprint, finger already slamming down on the trigger of your pepper spray.

The man barely has time to react. He coughs and chokes, stumbling backward like he just got decked in the face. Your groceries fly through the air as he flails, practically throwing them back at you in the process.

“What—” he wheezes, hands clutching his eyes as he coughs again. “What was that for?”

“You…” your breath is coming out in sharp gasps as you clutch the pepper spray tighter. “You were following me!”

He tries to open his eyes, then immediately winces. “I was making sure you got back to campus okay!”

You take a step back, grip still firm around the bottle. “Well… well why the hell did you start running after me when I ran, huh?”

“You dropped your groceries!”

You hesitate because he sounds genuinely frustrated. “Well… don’t do that again, you freak! Don’t you know you shouldn’t follow people home?”

“I wasn’t— I mean, I was, but not for any reason you might be thinking of,” he stammers.

There’s an awkward beat as he forces himself to stand upright again, shoulders tense. Then, as if realizing how bad this looks, he raises his hands in surrender.

“I mean no harm,” he says. And despite everything, he sounds sincere. “This is just… kinda what I do now. I’m looking out for the people of the city.”

You exhale sharply. Then, after a beat, your free hand dips into your grocery bag.

You pull out a bottle of water and toss it to him.

“You should really work on your methods, Spider-Man,” you mutter, shaking your head as your gaze falls down to the spider design on his sweatshirt. As you turn away, you add, "Rinse your eyes. It’ll help."

Your heart is still hammering in your chest as you begin to walk away, but you manage to steady your breathing as you near the dorms. Your mind, however, is still racing.

Because the moment you calm down enough to think, a realization hits you.

The image. The blurry, low-resolution shot that Dr. Curtis Connors sent your group just days ago. The figure looked identical to the man you just encountered. The one he wanted to know more about.

Your stomach drops, and you whirl around, phone in hand with your camera ready. Much to your dismay, the figure is already gone. He has vanished into thin air without leaving so much as a single trace.

You curse under your breath, fingers flying over your phone screen as you open up the message thread.

You: I have a lead. I just ran into him. I think he’s a student at Linkon University.

series masterlist. ┆ next: chapter four.

a/n hi guys :P…. sorry i didn’t update for awhile buuuut here’s chapter 3!!! i wrote and edited some of this chapter with a 103 F fever so… if it’s illegible at any point that might be why. i’d love to know your thoughts so please share them !!! <3

also i just wanted to say that i love all of the comments and messages you guys send into my asks :,) this made me laugh so i really hurried to get this chapter out

taglist. (join it by commenting under this post!)

@leonskenthusiast @universallysoulcreator @devonjs-blog @lacieohlacie @kisswithyoureyesclosed @lovesick-sylus @livonianmaia @hqnge @yuuuumii @mizzfizz @simpfortheseven @nyxthejinx-rantsaboutlads @mariojins @rcvcngers @yizhoupilled @irlsammy @gloomuri671 @risagichi @drinking2nite @seikamuzu @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane

@that-one-scoundrel @joy-laufeyson @missaengg @wheatrice @gvenone @desiree-archive @jayhyunglover @flwerie @miffysoo @jijijihanji @ssetsuka @mglwhor3 @sureconfused @vorfreudevortex @honehbee42 @angelbeat994 @codedove @cheesemachine44 @mocha-the-muse @msanimeotaku181 @breadiestpuffs @idkwhatursayinh @hannahchk @rxelarailuj @littlebabyypeach @wooasecret @nikilig @theweevilofsweetreef @etsuniiru

[writeriguess]

I gotta say☝🏼 you are too good of a writer, I THANK YOU!!! Soo I got a request for ya! I was thinking about Katsuki having a major crush on reader(who secretly likes him too) trying his hardest to make her fall for him. He sees that showing off his "skills" just isn't enough, so he makes multiple attempts to flirt with her until he can finally see her become a blushing mess. (≧∇≦)/

Flirting Lessons

Katsuki Bakugo was many things—loud, brash, stubborn, and explosively talented. But smooth? That was a different story.

Unfortunately for him, his usual methods of impressing people—blowing stuff up, dominating in combat, and being the best at literally everything—didn't seem to be working on you. And that was frustrating as hell.

Because, damn it, he liked you.

You were different. You didn't fawn over his strength like others did, and you sure as hell didn’t let his temper intimidate you. You treated him like a person, not just the future Number One Hero. You teased him, challenged him, and worst of all, you didn’t even seem affected by him.

He had to change that.

So, Bakugo devised a plan: Operation: Make You Blush.

Attempt #1 – The Classic Show-Off

It started with what he did best—showing off.

During training, he made sure to push himself even harder than usual, making his explosions extra flashy, his dodges extra sharp, his victories extra brutal. Every time he landed a hit, he’d glance at you, waiting for that moment when you'd look at him with admiration, maybe even awe.

Instead?

You yawned. Yawned.

“Oh wow, another explosion. Shocking,” you deadpanned, leaning against the wall. “What’s next? You breathing fire?”

“The hell?! That was awesome!” he snapped, stomping over to you. “You try pulling that shit off, smartass!”

You smirked, tilting your head. “You’re already great, Bakugo. No need to keep proving it to me.”

For a second, he forgot how to breathe.

You—wait. Did you already think he was great? Did that mean—no, wait, focus. That wasn't enough. He needed to see that flustered expression.

Time for Plan B.

Attempt #2 – The Accidental (Not Really) Touch

The next time he saw you, he made sure to get close. Real close.

It started small. Brushing past you in the hallway, lingering when he handed you something, letting his fingers graze yours just a second too long. He even "accidentally" sat too close during class, his knee nudging against yours under the desk.

But did you react? Nope. You just gave him a look and went back to taking notes.

Fine. Desperate times, desperate measures.

One afternoon, when you were reaching for a book on a high shelf, he saw his chance. Casually, he strolled up behind you, caging you in with one arm as he grabbed the book himself.

"Need some help, princess?" he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You turned your head slightly, blinking up at him.

"Thanks, Bakugo," you said simply, taking the book and walking away like nothing happened.

He stood there, book still in hand, fuming.

Attempt #3 – The Nicknames

Alright. The nicknames had to work.

He started off easy—"Dumbass," "Extras," "Nerd." But those were normal, and you barely reacted to those.

So he stepped it up.

"Oi, sweetheart, you comin’ to train or what?"

"Keep up, babe, or I'm leavin’ your ass behind."

"Damn, you look good tod—" No, too much, too much! Abort!

At first, you just rolled your eyes. Then, slowly, he started catching it—the slight hesitation in your step, the way your ears tinged pink for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to act normal.

Bingo.

He grinned. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?"

You scoffed, shoving past him. "Keep dreaming, Bakugo."

But you were blushing.

And he saw it.

Attempt #4 – The Direct Approach

By now, he was feeling cocky. If the nicknames worked, then maybe—just maybe—he could push it further.

So, one day, after training, when the two of you were the only ones left in the gym, he decided to go all in.

"Hey."

You turned around, towel around your neck, sweat still clinging to your skin. "Yeah?"

He smirked, taking a few steps closer until he was right in front of you. "You're into me."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You're into me," he repeated, tilting his head slightly. "I see the way you look at me when you think I ain't payin’ attention."

Your face remained neutral, but he saw your grip tighten on your towel.

"Wow," you said flatly. "Humble much?"

"Tch, I'm not wrong," he shot back, crossing his arms. "So just admit it."

You stared at him for a long moment before letting out a slow sigh. Then, with a small smirk, you leaned in—close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin.

"If I'm into you," you whispered, "then what does that say about you, Bakugo? Since you've been chasing after me this whole time?"

His brain short-circuited.

For the first time, he was the one caught off guard.

You? You just winked and walked away, leaving him standing there like an idiot, face burning hotter than his explosions.

Shit.

Final Attempt – Success

Days passed, and despite his failure, he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. He just needed to hit you with something you wouldn’t see coming.

And then, it hit him.

Late one evening, as you were sitting outside the dorms, enjoying the quiet, he walked up and plopped down next to you. No teasing. No smirks. Just him, sitting there, staring at the sky.

"You're really somethin’ else, y'know that?" he muttered after a moment.

You glanced at him. "That a good thing or a bad thing?"

He scoffed. "Dumbass, it's a good thing."

Silence.

Then, softer, almost hesitant—"I like you."

Your breath hitched. This… this wasn’t his usual cocky, over-the-top flirting. This was just him. Honest. Real.

And that was what finally did it.

Your face turned bright red.

Bakugo saw it. He smirked.

"Finally," he muttered.

"Shut up," you groaned, covering your face.

"Nah," he said, leaning back with a grin. "Took me long enough, might as well enjoy it."

And for once, you let him have his victory.

[cameatslemons]

mouthwashing post. jimmy is a raging narcissist and im tired of people trying to give him benefit of the doubt. his inability to see two feet beyond what immediately concerns him dooms everyone on the tulpar, and even in the end, he only really cares about himself.

big list of all his narcisstic bullshit below bc im here to motherfucking prove it (mouthwashing spoilers of course)

most obviously: everything is a personal attack on him. EVERYTHING. you can see it most clearly at the birthday party; while everyone else is understandably freaking out about being laid off, jimmy starts telling curly off and insulting both him and everyone else at the table, as if being laid off is a personal attack on jimmy specifically. it doesn’t matter that anya has nothing to go back to, that swansea’s life is thrown away- jimmy is the ONLY victim here, apparently. curly is personally responsible for getting laid off, in his eyes.

i don’t actually know the words for this but the way he’s constantly going “i have to do EVERYTHING around here”- again, feeling like its a personal attack to be asked anything at all. anya asks him to take care of curly because her entire fucking life is falling apart, its her end of days, but somehow shes the villain for struggling.

also the general antagonization of anya. she’s extremely competent for the hand she was dealt! shes too poor to attend med school yet shes very knoqledgable in medication and wound care! and yeah no shit shes struggling now, someone she cared deeply about is suffering immensely and now the ship is being “run” by a man who assaulted her. no fucking shit shes breaking down. but jimmy makes it clear time and time again that this is somehow her fault, all this shit of “shouldn’t nurses EARN their titles?” while she’s having a mental breakdown.

similarly, swansea being villainized for holding the cryopod for daisuke and killing him. like, i get it, but jimmy’s whole thing of saying he can fix daisuke is… c’mon man. he’s a hero to himself, he “always” fixes things the same way he “fixed” the ship, and he will fix daisuke and claim heroism even though it’s very clear nothing else can be done for him.

“someday you’ll thank me” while forcing curly to eat his own leg. the incredible confidence that he is in the right even when literally torturing someone.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: the final scene with curly burning. jimmy doesn’t earnestly believe he has anything to be sorry for. even when apologizing to curly he says “we can BOTH be heroes!” despite everything, he still thinks he’s in the right. he STILL thinks he’s a hero, because he’s right, he’s ALWAYS right, surely. he can apologize and grovel all he wants but in the end he still thinks he’s the hero of this story; he doesn’t genuinely think he has anything to right, he’s only doing this to be freed of consequence. and/or believes a simple “sorry” is enough, that it can fix completely ruining the lives of four people with his own inferiority complex.

i do think the choice to put curly in the pod instead of himself is the only time he recognizes his own guilt, if any. maybe it’s realizing that he DOES need something more than a simple “sorry” to even begin to try to fix things, maybe it’s that he thinks this will cement him even further as a hero. even then, does this fix anything? all it’s doing is making curly suffer more. is this actually a good thing?

to him, he’s the hero here. he always is. crashing the ship is a heroic thing, putting all his crewmates through hell is a heroic thing. all because something nobody can control is somehow a personal attack on jimmy.

not to mention all the “hallucinations” he has- it’s what he thinks should happen, it’s what he wants to hear. curly still calling him a friend, the dead corpses of his crewmates praising him, even in the final cutscene with curly burning where he says “no, YOU take the pod”. none of it’s real. it’s just what jimmy thinks is “right”. despite everything, he thinks everyone should thank and praise him, because he can do no wrong.

conclusion: jimmy is a narcisstic piece of shit.

[fixated-cookies]

(Ignore this if this is too much to post but I think it’s ok I just REALLY needed to yap-)

okay. shadow milk.

that mf has overtaken my mind again like last year accept it’s “worse” now. (hashtag non con, yandere😇)

Shadow Milk is nothing but a powerful menace in bed i SWEAR. That sadistic jester is gonna do everything to make you scream while your getting pounded. He absolutely loves it, bonus points if your tied up by his strings because he has a bondage kink you can’t change my mind. He will turn you into his puppet weather you want it or not he doesn’t want you to escape. Oh.. he’d be throwing degrades out at you left and right you just whimper with tears falling out of your eyes not knowing what to say back. The roughness of his cock has overtaken your senses.

“Aww~! Look at how pathetic you are so vulnerable and tied up like this. It’s sad really~!” *the man chuckles*

Omg he’d wipe them tears away like he gives af about you crying from his hard dick, he just wants you for himself. I mean he does care about you in his own interesting ways but not when your tied up looking oh so submissive and on display for him.

Once he’s done he will apologize to you and try his hardest to help you recover. (your still tied up) but that’s definitely not the last time your gonna see that hardcore fucking from him.

i am Insane i need this good day/night fellow black pearl enjoyer.

ahh, he definitely would pull something like this, especially after an escape attempt. it's just a little silly, really, how you think you could trick HIM, out of all people to try this with.

MDNI

Dark content ahead- noncon, yandere, bondage

Now your face down ass up with your arms tied behind your back because of your own stupidity. He's pulling moans and dirty whines from you while drooling into the pillows. Just imagine Shadow Milk Cookie sneering down at you with that infuriating grin as he drinks in your helplessness. he’s so proud of his handiwork. His sweet favorite puppet trying to runaway from him? not going to happen.

"Oh, my dear, sweet little puppet… do you know what happens to misbehaving toys?" he'll purr into your ear while thrusting deep into your sopping cunt. His fingers cause indents into the skin of your hips. His hips keep moving, harsh and deliberate, dragging out every sensation until you’re trembling. You feel his smirk against your skin when he presses a kiss just beneath your ear, followed by a sharp nip that makes you jolt.

You try to muffle your mewls by trying to bury your face in the pillows? nope! His movements halt—but not for mercy, no, no—this is punishment. Before you can react, your world flips. He yanks himself away immediately, hands gripping you with almost effortless strength as he turns you over in one swift motion. The sheer force of it knocks the little air you had left straight from your lungs, leaving you gasping beneath him.

And through your blurry vision from your tears you can see his grin—it’s positively wicked.

"There we go~" he purrs "Don’t tell me you forgot who this show is for? Hiding those darling sounds? Unacceptable. I want to hear you." you squirm as you feel his cock once again entering, stretching you out to create a full sensation.

Oh, Shadow Milk Cookie isn’t just cruel—he’s ruthless. Every single mistake you made during your little escape attempt? He’s going to shove it in your face until it’s all you can think about.

"Really? Really? You actually thought you could get away from me?" His voice is full of mocked disbelief, like he finds the very idea laughable. "Ohhh, sweet thing, you must be even dumber than I thought! And trust me—that’s saying something!" He gives you a rough thrust as he laughs, a sharp, biting thing that makes your face burn with humiliation.

"Tell me, did you actually think you were being clever? Sneaking out in the dead of night like some tragic little hero? Oh, poor, naive you—running right into my strings, like the idiot you are." He takes in your cries and whimpers gripping your jaw, forcing your teary-eyed gaze to meet his.

"And now look at you. Back where you belong—right under me, whining, trembling, all because you thought you were strong enough to leave. Tsk, tsk." He shakes his head, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh feeling your warmth tighten around him. Oh and like you said anon, Shadow Milk Cookie does love it when you cry. Loves the way those fat, helpless tears roll down your cheeks, proof of how thoroughly he’s broken you down. But does he care? Ohhh, not in the way you’d hope.

he'll cup your face, his thumb swiping oh-so-gently beneath your trembling eyes. "What’s the matter, sweet thing? Regretting all those dumb little choices now?" tilting his head and studying you, focusing on the way your lips tremble and uneven breaths. "Mmm, no, I don’t think so. I think—" he leans in, grinning as he presses a feather-light kiss to your damp cheek"—you’re just upset ‘cause you finally realized how pathetic you are without me." listening to another sob fall from your mouth once he hits your cervix.

"It’s cute, really. You’re cute. Crying like this, all tied up, nowhere to run—" his voice dips, eyes glinting with something dark, something possessive— "all mine."

And when another tear spills free? He doesn’t wipe it away.

He just laughs.

And once later comes, when your wringed out of all the orgasms you can give him, laying bare, your mind empty, and feeling like a pile of jello. Do you truly believe he would feel bad?

"Ah, my poor little puppet…" His voice has lost that razor-sharp edge, now dripping in something too soft, too mocking to be genuine. He leans over you, tilting his head as if to study the mess he’s made of you. Your body, still trembling, still bound, your chest rising and falling with uneven, exhausted breaths.

His fingers trace your cheek, a feather-light touch too tender for a monster like him. "I suppose I should say sorry, huh?" He hums, tapping his chin in thought before flashing that infuriating grin. "Buuut… I don’t really regret it." Shadow Milk Cookie's aftercare is… complicated. Twisted, but in his own way, sincere. Even if he knows he’s pushed you to your limit, even if he’s relished in your helplessness, the moment it’s over, he doesn’t just walk away. He lingers, watching you—taking in the trembling of your body, the way your breath hitches, the quiet little whimpers still spilling from your lips. A teary-eyed glare hurtles his way. "Now, now… don’t look at me like that." His voice is softer now, a stark contrast to the sharp, mocking tone from before."You’ll start thinking I’m some kind of villain!" His fingers pause at your wrist, where the bindings were, and he gives a mocking little sigh as they curl around them, then bringing them lower to different parts of your body, massaging the stiff muscles with slow, deliberate movements.

"So tell me, little puppet… have we learned anything?"

--

I learned that the best way to write shadow milk is for him to make you annoyed at how much he speaks. HE NEEDS TO SHUT UP! They say black sapphire likes the sound of his voice? well it seems like he has competition from his own master!

[tonixe]

hii i love ur writing and the k you for the noir fic!! there’s not enough content for the boys and i appreciate it so much!! can i request jealous homelander x reader? tyia!

♱ — rapacious — ♱

A/N: I was itching, with no craving to make a homelander fic, and ideas just ran through me, but thank you anon for requesting this, and letting my devious idea run free. P.S. Im not sure bout that black noir fic, this was asked in July, but yk thank you for still requesting <3. Btw H/N is hero name.

WARNING: oral sex, p in the v, no condom we fuck raw, creampies, non-con, tw: homelander, gagging, cursing, non-con, threats, forced breeding and nudity.

PAIRING: jealous! homelander x reader

WORD COUNTER: 2.1k

Life with Homelander was great, something so great that it makes you go insane, crazy...good crazy may be bad for some, but you could take it, right?

Vought, was another thing, watching over your shoulder and making sure everything went well, I mean with you there were a lot fewer casualties than usual. Soon things got less complicated with Edgar and Madelyn being gone from Vought, basically Homelander leading the company with Ashley as a puppet.

It was chaotic per se, where Homelander's watching eye was everywhere in the building. His leadership didn't make anything better but worse. With the seven keeping on being replaced and disappearing mysteriously, surprisingly you were still there with the same everything, no new rebrand, no nothing just staying in place.

You didn't mind it at all, I mean you still had a job and were still getting paid. Even with the weird shift of Black noir, instead of his quiet demeanor, he was talkative which was a change. It was evident it wasn't noir and everyone in the seven knew it, but nobody questioned it. You didn't mind but preferred the change, and even started talking to him.

He was a little better than old noir, not in combat but in being amusing, even spending time with outside meetings and regular superhero activities.

"So how the fuck did you manage to even fly like that?" You asked while you walked with him down the hallway,

"I have no idea, it just happened?" Black Noir II shrugged, you nodded at his words as you took a sip of the peanut butter frappuccino from Vought's cafe, it was a plus that he wasn't allergic to peanuts like the old noir. It wasn't a glow-up from the old noir but a plus. You two chatted as you got into the elevator, it was abruptly stopped by a red, white, and blue cape fluttering into wedging between you both, making you step back, it was Homelander.

The atmosphere immediately got tense than it was once a carefree mood, it was quiet.

"Good morning Homelander," you said, it was met with a nod from him, "Morning Sir," Black Noir said to him, only for him to glare at him, "Don't fucking talk" Homelander ordered, clearly annoyed that he was talking.

It was suffocating being in the elevator, you just took a sip of your frappuccino, praying for the elevator to open up quickly.

Guess your answers were answered rather quickly, as the doors of the huge elevator opened to the meeting room, the giant seven table in front of you.

The Deep, Sage, Firecracker, and A-train were already in their seats. "Good morning sir" The deep stood up, saluting him which made you laugh a little. You immediately took your seat next to Firecracker, and the meeting started. It was a blur to you, something like finding the leak in Vought, which you had many questions about.

The whole meeting was led by a different Sage, your eyes flicked towards Homelander, he was staring at Black Noir. You averted your eyes away,

God, you have to pay attention more often.

You couldn't help but take a sip of peanut butter frappuccino, "Would you fucking stop" Homelander's voice interrupted Sage's presentation, all attention was at him and he was staring directly at you.

"Um...Sorry" You hesitating looked back at him, and you felt eyes on you. You couldn't help but your heart to beat faster,

You watched Homelander rubbed his head in annoyance, closing his eyes before staring to you, "Could you slurp any louder?" He said, his voice dripping with annoyance and sarcasm.

"Sorry" You muttered, putting it back where it was,

"No..nope" Homelander repeated, he pointed at you again, "Be a good girl and put it in the garbage" He snapped. You looked around, with everyone staring at you, "Okay" you responded, slowly getting up from your chair, taking the cup in your hand, and throwing it in the garbage before sitting down.

"Good"

With that statement, the meeting continued on, with your face heating up in embarrassment, as you sank further into the chair.

Sage's voice engulfing your thoughts,

You got interrupted by a note being thrown at you, it was obvious it was from Noir that somehow got to you without Homelander looking, you grinned a little bit, secretly opening up the crumbled piece of paper.

[I'll buy you a new drink after the meeting] - Noir

You read the note, before turning your attention to him and smiling, quickly putting the note in the pocket of your suit before Homelander can see it. Combing your hair back and leaning back into your chair.

Soon the meeting ended, getting up from your seat, and everyone else was doing the same, yours scanned and the room soon landing on Firecracker still in her seat. But you didn't care much to ask why, but more excited to hang out with Noir after this awkward meeting.

"Everyone can go expect H/N" You heard Homelander's voice mentioning your name made you freeze. You stopped where you were, "You can go Firecracker" Homelander turned to her,

"But..um Homelander sir—"

"You can go," Homelander said again but in a more threatening tone, "Now" After he said she scrambled out of the meeting room.

Soon it was only you two left in the room, you watched hesitantly as Homelander turned to you. "Y/N, we need to talk," Homelander states, you could hear his voice straining, with concealed anger.

You looked up at him confused, "About..what?" You asked.

You watched as he walked around you, his pace was slow, you listened to his footsteps echoing around the empty meeting room, before he stopped suddenly, " Do you think I'm just stupid?" Homelander said, his tone catching you off guard.

It wasn't confusing that Homelander was speaking to you in anger, you rarely got him angry knowing you both were together and your relationship wasn't publicized due to his status.

"No, definitely not John," You replied, using his name instead of his hero alias, made him freeze before he stared at you.

Jealously was gnawing inside of him when he looked at you, "Tell me...are you fucking him" Homelander snapped at you, your brows knitted together in confusion at his words. "No, we're just hanging out—why would you ever think that?" You stuttered over your words, as Homelander walked closer to you.

He reached out for your face, harshly grabbing your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his eyes. You felt his glove hand digging into your face, his eyes closely turning red, you just felt fear, you were terrified. You knew he could smell your fear, and hear your rising heartbeat. "John...I would never cheat on you, I'm yours" You entreated, trembling under his grip.

Finally, his grip got looser and then he dropped your face, making you stumble a bit.

"Then show me," Homelander said,

You were confused about his words, "What?"

"If you love me..show me" Homelander sat down in the seat in front of you. It took you some time to process his words, confused at what he was saying, "Come on, strip for me" signaling towards your chest.

Your brows furrowing, "Come on, if you don't do it" Homelander leaned in his seat, "You won't like it if I do it" He finished,

"Now strip" He repeated, his tone more irritated.

You took a breath in and started undressing. Unzipping your suit, feeling the cool air on your bare skin. Your suit falling on the marble floor echoed through the room, leaving you in your bra and panties.

"Bra and panties too" Homelander eyed your chest.

You comply, putting your hand behind you and clipping your bra off, discarding it on the floor, and stepping out of your panties, leaving you fully naked in front of him.

"Come here" He patted his lap, "Crawl" he pointed at you. You sank down to your knees and crawled towards him and stopped in front of him. "Come on, you know what to do" You felt his hand on your cheek, stroking it.

You looked down at his growing member in his pants. Hesitatingly looking up at him through your lashes, as you started to undo the bottom of his suit revealing his cock, you looked up at him, "Use your mouth" You leaned in and inched his cock into your mouth, before taking him whole. Homelander moans out feeling your warm mouth enveloping his cock, feeling his hand gripping your hair making you wince.

You slowly bob your head down on his length, his grip on you getting tighter. Your ears perched up at his straining voice barely containing his whimpers as he watched you intently, taking him whole. "Fuck, your good at this" Homelander groaned, jerking you away, taking his cock out from your mouth. Staring at your disheveling appearance, spit dribbling on your chin.

His hand still fisting your hair, "Your pretty when your like this" Homelander chuckled, before forcing you down his cock, making you gagged. Tears prick on your waterline, saliva staining your chin, his grip never loosening as he abused your throat,  thrusting into your mouth, the sound of slick, the sounds of wet suction filling up the room.

His pace turning frantic, fucking your mouth.

Homelander threw his head back as waves of ecstasy washed over him. His hips buckled uncontrollably as he lets out a guttural groan, filling your mouth with his cum. "Fuck, ..." He pants, chest heaving, before he gripped your face, "Be a good girl and swallow it" He threatens, feeling the hot liquid going down your throat, swallowing it.

His grip loosening and releasing you. You panted for air, feeling his gloved-hand stroking your cheek. "Now, stand and lean over at table" Homelander ordered, as you got up from the floor and obeyed his order, propping yourself on the table, and bending yourself over the glass. You couldn't help but to feel excited for the pain, the slick dripping down your legs. You waited in anticipation,

Before feeling his cock stretching you out, biting down at your lip at the simmering pain, arching your back. His hands on back of your waist, "Fuck" you mumbled, gripping the end of the glass. Before he thrusting into you, "You think Noir would please you like I do" Homelander growled into your ear, his breath warm on your skin "N...no" you mumbled, feeling his cock tearing you open, feeling himself stretching your cervix.

His ministration was more painful next than the next, feeling his cock stabbing you over and over again. The sounds of flesh slapping filled the room, letting out a gasp, your voice wavering in pain. His thrust driving deeper into you, clenching down on his cock, feeling his grip digging into your skin.

You hated how you were slowly enjoying this, feeling yourself coming close to your climax. Your body tensing up as you feel your skin warming up,

His hips stuttering against yours, "Fuck, I'm close" You felt his hands stroking your hips, "What if I just cummed inside you, breed you myself, have my kids, and have a family...then ill have you to myself" He whispered,

You felt your heart in your throat, "Pull out" You tried to get away from stone grip, "Homelander, please" You begged, only for your face to be shove down on the glass table. Scrambling underneath his grip, just to get him off you. "please" you cried.

His pace getting frantic until he thrust into you for the last time, feeling on cue your body shuddering as he came into you. Feeling himself spilling inside you, making you freeze on the spot.

Feeling him finally pulling out of you, leaving you there stunned. He kissed your shoulder, the kiss feeling lingering on you.

You heard the sound of him putting his pants back on. He stared at you before walking towards you, before sighing, you turned your head to him, "I forgive you, you know" He said, his hand behind his back watching your pitiful form,

"Just don't do it again" he pats your head,

"Now get dressed, we have a date" He smiles, listening to his footsteps descending from you.

[tired-teacher-blog]

You were joking, teasing him to be precise, just a playful ruse you thought of testing with your boyfriend, but definitely did not expect for things to end up the way they did when you slurred the words between enticing giggles :

_ "Kirishima is seriously hot, ah! I envy whoever has the chance to be with him."

Yeah, you definitely did not expect what happened afterwards.

_ "You wanna repeat that?" Bakugou's grip on your wrists tightened as he pushed you onto the cushiony sofa, a furious look in his eyes and a scowl plastered across his face.

_ "Yeah, I mean he's handsome, nice, cool, every girl's dream hunk." you knew you were playing a dangerous game, one that you'd surely lose, but pushing his buttons seemed strangely entertaining.

Kirishima is truly a formidable hero and a dear friend whom you've always looked up to, sure, but that's it, you have no feelings above admiration for the man, because the only person you've ever loved is the one glaring at you right now.

_ "Stop it, this isn't funny!" it kind of was though, because beyond that enraged expression of his, lied something else that was yet to be deciphered.

_ "Are you mad or something?" you bit down on your lip to stifle a sneaky giggle, and watched as he visibly struggled with his thoughts.

He's never been one to be rendered speechless, but there he was, shaking in rage as the wheels were turning in his head.

_ "Is this your way of breaking up with me?" he carefully uttered after a moment of silence, sharp expression morphing to almost a grieving one.

This man is academically brilliant and incredibly skillful in battle since his school days, a gifted child that has become one of the best pro heroes in the world, a prodigy indeed. That being said, you've come to realize over the years of knowing him how tragically lacking he is when it comes to social cues, and this cruel little joke of yours was further proof of that.

_ "What?! No of course not! What are you saying?!" you immediately regretted your tasteless trick and adopted a similar expression to his, struggling under his brute force as he squeezed your wrists tighter.

He remained silent afterwards, as if granting you the opportunity to explain yourself further, and for that you were grateful.

_ "It was only a joke Katsuki I promise, please don't take it too seriously.. you know you're the only one I love and want to be with, right?" you spoke in a much softer tone than the playful one of earlier, your eyes reflecting the depth of your feelings for this man.

_ "You mean that? Because I swear I'll blow him up to pieces if you're serious about what you just said!" he growled almost menacingly, but there was also a hint of vulnerability lurking in his gaze.

You giggled softly and nodded your head before replying, "I mean it Katsuki, that was just a stupid joke and nothing more."

_ "Then say it again, say that you love me, I want to hear it again." he moved his face closer to yours, his crimson eyes reflecting an intensity that pierced your soul.

_ "I love you Katsuki, just you and no one else." your expression softened as you replied in a whisper, and you could feel his body relax and his grip on your wrists loosen slightly after hearing your words.

_ "Again, say it again." he demanded huskily, his fingers traveling from your wrists to thread with your own.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, seeing his usually carefully concealed vulnerability out in the open, and couldn't help but repeat the words, "I love you.. I love you more than you know Katsuki.."

He leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his unspoken emotions into it, and you melted in the sensation of his mouth moving slowly against yours in a rhythmic dance that left you tingling all over.

He leaned back slightly, eyes heavy and lips quirked in a satisfied smirk as he observed your flustered state, "good.. and now it's my turn to show you how much I love you.."

You opened your mouth to speak, but a squeal escaped instead as he scooped you up in his arms and strode towards your shared bedroom with purposeful steps..

Divider by : @/saradika-graphics

[slutoru1207]

Invincible!Mark x reader imagine

dating a civilian

The meeting had been dragging on for too long, and Mark was already exhausted. Missions, responsibilities, the weight of being Invincible—it was all piling up. But when Eve made her comment, all of that faded into the background.

"Mark, I just don’t get it," Eve said, crossing her arms. "You’re risking too much by being with a civilian. You know that, right? She can’t keep up with you. She can’t fight. She’s vulnerable."

Mark’s jaw clenched. He slowly turned to face her, his usual easygoing expression hardening into something unreadable.

"You think I don’t know that?" His voice was quieter than usual, but firm. The room went still.

Eve hesitated. "I just mean… You live in different worlds. What happens if she gets hurt because of you? Or worse? You should be with someone who understands what it means to be a hero."

Mark let out a sharp breath, his fists clenching at his sides. "You don’t get to decide that for me, Eve. I love her. And yeah, she doesn’t have powers, but that doesn’t mean she’s weak. She’s stronger than you think."

"Mark—"

"No," he cut her off. "She takes care of me. After every fight, every mission, every time I come home half-dead, she’s the one who patches me up. She’s the one who holds me when I feel like I’m falling apart. She makes me want to be better, not just as Invincible, but as a person. And you think she’s not enough just because she doesn’t have powers? That’s bullshit."

Eve frowned, clearly taken aback by the force behind his words. "I just… I worry about you."

"Then trust me to make my own choices," Mark said, his voice softer but no less determined. "I know what I’m doing. And I’m not going to let anyone make me doubt that."

The room was silent. No one else dared to speak. Mark exhaled slowly, shaking his head before turning away, ready to leave. "I’m done here."

When he got home that night, he didn’t say anything at first—he just wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, breathing you in. You could feel the tension in his body, the weight of the conversation still lingering on his shoulders.

"Mark? What’s wrong?"

He buried his face in your neck, his voice a little rough. "Nothing. Just… I love you."

You smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I love you too. Always."

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze full of determination and something fiercer—something protective. "No one gets to tell me that I shouldn’t be with you. No one."

And you knew, without a doubt, that he meant every word.

[goddamnitmahtin]

Jason is a Teenage Dad Part 3

The following month after Jason came home with Danny was…. a lot of work to say the least. There were so many things to do now that there were 2 more kids in the house than there used to be and Bruce was not used to acclimating to more than one kid at a time. Last time there was a buffer. On top of that, there were all of the legal and social responsibilities that came with Danny and Tim.

Bruce was able to get Tim’s paperwork squared away pretty easily since the police and CPS were both a joke and didn’t really even look at it before approving it. Which was funny since the adoption papers were written on his Batcomputer since he didn’t feel like going out to pick up a real one. It was identical to a real one though.

Tim was doing well and seemed to be fitting into the household smoothly from what Bruce could tell. Maybe his old life wasn’t so different from his new one. He also did well at his first gala as a Wayne. He didn’t cause nearly as much trouble as Dick used to. He didn’t hang from a single chandelier.

Jason and Danny on the other hand… well Jason was trying his best. And Bruce could tell that he had grown attached to Danny. Which was why he didn’t tell him he was doing a background check on the child to see if he had anywhere to go. If they had someone’s kid and didn’t give him back, Gordon would be on his ass about it.

Bruce couldn’t find anything on the kid. Nothing. He thought he may have found a relative in Amity Park as he found a photo of a boy in a public record year book that looked a lot like him but when he tried to reach out to the family, they denied having lost a child around 3.

After that, Bruce reluctantly looked into the logistics of Jason becoming Danny’s legal guardian. He would have preferred if Danny became Bruce’s ward until Jason turned 18 so he could legally adopt him with much less hassle but Jason didn’t like that idea when he talked to him about it. So Bruce had to figure how to sidestep and loophole his way into becoming a grandpa. It’s been exhausting so far.

Although Bruce was having a bit of a struggle with the changes going on in his home, he wasn’t having as hard of a time as Danny. That kid was definitely in some sort of traumatic situation before Jason found him. He was often hiding or running when he wasn’t clinging onto Jason like a life preserver. So far he hadn’t had any major scares due to Jason being oddly in tune with what to avoid.

The part that was the most stressful though? Explaining to Commissioner Gordon why he had the Joker’s head in his house. No body. Just the head. He explained that one of his kids found the head and brought it home. It wasn’t a lie but he wasn’t going to tell him the exact truth either. He was already lying about the fact that Jason died. The public was under the impression that it was just some joke the Joker pulled and he never actually killed Robin.

Bruce and Jason had covered it up by telling people that because of the whole fiasco Robin was taking a break from the field until it blew over. Although he wasn’t really sure how Jason was going to return to being Robin. Danny never left his side. Not to mention he didn’t really seem interested in it like he was before. Which… was fine. Once word got out that the Joker was dead, the public was pretty 50/50 about Robin. Half saying he was a hero for “killing” him and the other half worried about the ethic implications.

Bruce was going to have to talk to Jason about this more. It wasn’t like Bruce hadn’t fought alone before. He knew how. It was just significantly easier if he had some help. And he was NOT going to call Clark every time something happened. Of course he was never going to force Jason to do it. Infact, Bruce was relieved that Jason might actually want to live a normal childhood. Well as normal is it can be raising a child.

At least the household was finding its own routine again. Everyone was getting used to each other and Alfred was estatic that there were more mouths to feed claiming that he would “not have to hold back my cooking prowess now that I can make dishes meant for many people, Master Wayne!”

This morning, Alfred had outdone himself making a breakfast buffet of sorts that they could all grab from. Bruce got himself a plate and grabbed a little bit of everything. He always enjoyed trying Alfred’s food and he saw some things he didn’t recognize so he grabbed those.

Bruce sat down at the table and watched as the others in the house slowly peeled in. First was Jason who grabbed some toast and promptly left again since Danny often had nightmares and tended to freak out if Jason wasn’t there when he woke up.

Then it was Tim. He watched the boy make himself a plate and begin to eat silently. Bruce hated that. During the first two weeks or so of Tim living there, he thought that was just his personality. Very quiet, avoiding attention until necessary. But then he noticed that Tim commented about being used to being overlooked for “more important things” and it made Bruce’s blood boil to think that was how he was treated.

Bruce could tell that Tim hadn’t lied about that fact. He showed every sign of someone who wasn’t used to even being perceived while in the same room unless he was “needed.” Bruce was working to try and correct that since he knew how lonely a life that was.

“Hey Tim, your awfully quiet this morning. I assume you’ve found yourself a little mystery?” Bruce said, hoping to coax the kid into talking about whatever was on his mind. He had found that this strategy worked more times than not since he loved to talk about his interests.

As always, Tim looked surprised that he was being spoken to at all. Bruce hated that. He was going to make sure this kid knew he deserved attention.

“Uh yeah actually. I noticed that…” Tim began to animatedly talk about how Batman’s fighting style was significantly different when there was no one else around compared to when he had a Robin with him and that he found it fascinating that despite being able to more freely fight without worry of an ally being injured causing more efficient takedowns when it came to combat with a large number of goons, he also seemed to have a slower time with deductive reasoning without another person to bounce off of or talk to, leading to higher risk of civilian loss when it came to certain rogues like Joker or Riddler.

Bruce wasn’t dumb. He had started to suspect that Tim knew he was Batman two weeks ago. He didn’t make that fact subtle. Tim had been very much making sure that every opportunity he had to talk, he was talking about Batman. And he often had very interesting things to say that Bruce actually took to note. Tim wasn’t afraid of being honest about the shortcomings of the dark knight.

The thing was though about Tim’s current subject of fighting style and efficiency, was that he was right. Bruce did have a harder time with unplanned things when it came to taking down rogues. Fighting wasn’t a problem. He knew how to fight alone and he had done it before. But the ability to think on his feet without a person to bounce off of or use in his plans was much harder to do after not having to do it for years.

Bruce hated to admit it but… Tim had a valuable mind that would be perfect for a Robin. If he were to ever want to do that. Which knowing Bruce’s track record when it came to adopted kids…. he probably would. He just don’t know if he wanted to put another kid in danger. He didn’t have any proper training like Dick or Jason. And Jason literally died recently so the reality of what being Robin meant was really looming over Bruce’s mind right now.

Tim’s unapologetic and devastatingly accurate analysis of Batman was only interrupted when Jason reemerged with a newly awake Danny, still rubbing his eyes in his arms.

“Morning Danny,” Bruce said.

Danny scanned the room cautiously and after only seeing the people he was used to, he visibly relaxed, “Morning Grand-B. Morning Tim.”

Jason smiled, putting Danny down and telling him to pick a seat so he could make him a plate. Bruce knew this was a good sign that Danny’s morning didn’t start horribly wrong. No nightmares.

While at first they had a hard time getting Danny to feel safe enough to play or explore or even let go of Jason’s hand, they had made great progress and now as long as Jason was in the room, Danny was able to walk around on his own without as much fear and Bruce was glad to see that he was improving. However the whole Grand-B thing was something that Bruce hadn’t expected. But no doubt that was Jason’s influence.

Danny crawled onto a chair and looked at all the food cautiously as he did every morning. He stared at it for a moment as if looking for something as he did every morning. When he didn’t find anything, he smiled and agreed to eat. As he did every morning. Bruce didn’t know what trauma this kid had that made him distrust food that he didn’t watch get made but he did know that at least he didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

Jason made Danny a plate and poured himself some coffee. Bruce would have said something about it being bad for him to drink it at his age but the last time he did, Jason very dramatically pointed out that other things could kill him faster than coffee. Like the Joker. With a crowbar. It also didn’t help that he learned that Tim also drank obscene amounts of coffee. Bruce learned to pick his battles on that one.

“Hey Tim, how’d your first gala go? I heard you dissed some CEO for embezzlement,” Jason said casually while sipping his coffee. He didn’t look it, but Bruce knew Jason thought it was hilarious.

Tim shrugged, “I just pointed out that according to public record he should have had enough money to pay his employees way better than he does. He’s the one who assumed I thought he was embezzling. Which he is by the way. I did the math and tracked his personal purchases a while back,” Tim said matter of factly.

Bruce wanted to be surprised but from what he had learned and seen from Tim since their meeting, he was crazy smart and had an eye for inconsistencies. A little detective in his own right.

“Daddy are we still going to the observatory tonight?” Danny asked, his plate already cleared of food.

Bruce watched as Jason went into dad mode. It was off putting the first few times he had watched it happen but by now Bruce was getting used to this new side of Jason.

“Of course my little star,” the 15 year old said as he helped Danny clean up the very little food Danny had gotten on himself while eating, “Daddy doesn’t have much homework today so we can go extra early. Are you excited?”

“Yeah!” little Danny exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. This was going to be Danny’s first time out of the manor since moving in. Jason had picked the observatory since not many people went there and Danny really loved space. Bruce hoped that everything went well so Danny wouldn’t be scared of going out again in the future.

Bruce continued eating after Jason and Danny left to get ready for the day. While at first he hadn’t quite liked the idea of Jason transferring his studies to homeschooling, he seemed to be adapting to it well and it gave him more time with Danny to take care of him and help him when he panicked. To be honest… Bruce was very proud of Jason for the Dad he seemed to be becoming.

…

Sam and Tucker knew that it was bad news when the GIW shipped off in their trucks with Danny inside. They knew their friend was probably fucked. But they had hope. Except… that was 7 months ago. And last month the SCP Foundation came through Amity and cleaned up after the GIW who were apparently stealing their SCPs. Sam and Tucker had mentioned that their friend was taken and the foundation said that they would reach out if they found him. Apparently SCPs that were considered not dangerous were allowed to do normal human things like have friends. Who knew. Except that call never came.

At this point the two of them didn’t really know what to do. They didn’t want to believe that Danny was fully dead because he would have come to see them. But they also knew that if the SCP Foundation didn’t find him then the GIW didn’t have him anymore either. But if no one had him, why hadn’t he come home?

They were at a loss until Tucker came across an old text in the Smithsonian online library. It was a list of summoning spells and circles for different being types or certain beings themselves if they were powerful enough. Maybe they could just… summon Danny home?

At first they looked into the ghosts summoning spells but it seemed to be fairly unstable and there was no way to guarantee that the results would be what they wanted so they kept looking until they found a sigil for the Ghost King. The circle and and incantation were well thought out and the entire ritual seemed to be pretty straight forward. Maybe the Ghost King knew where Danny was? Since he was half ghost and all…

So the next thing they knew, Sam and Tucker were in an abandoned shed a few miles out of town drawing a summoning circle on the floor. Tucker did most of the outline work and Sam tackled the sigil that had to be drawn in the center. They took their time with it so it would come out right.

According to the book, some sort of sacrifice had to be made but ii said that it could be literally anything as long as it held value to you. Sam had suggested she bring something from her house but Tucker insisted that the only thing they probably had that was important enough to them both that they had was his PDA. So…. Tucker very sadly set it down inside the circle.

Then they began the chanting. Sam lit the candles the way the instructions described. Tucker followed the hand motions exactly.

Instantly, the circle began to glow as the summoning began to work. They watched as it got brighter and brighter, the green emanating from the portal that opened in the ground filled the entire space. And then… a figure appeared on a massive throne, adorned in a bellowing cape of stars and a crown of ice.

“I am the Ghost King, hi how are you doing? Just throwing it out there before we get started, I’m not into the whole mass destruction thing so don’t ask me to end the world. Oh hey! Sam and Tucker!”

Sam and Tucker were shocked to see Danny in front of them in full on ghost mode. But he looked different. Felt different. More powerful and maybe slightly older? Not the 15 year old they went to school with.

“Danny?” Sam said, frozen in shock.

They watched as Ghost King Danny squinted his eyes at them for a moment before realization seemed to hit him, “Oh you aren’t my Sam and Tucker. Hey Clocky, what universe is this?”

A post it note appeared in the air next to Danny. He plucked it out of the air and read it before saying, “Ohhh that makes sense okay.”

Tucker spoke up this time, “Danny… what’s going on?”

Danny smiled, “Ah well in the universe I’m from, I became the Ghost King. But since the Ghost King is a being of the Infinite Realms, I’m the Ghost King for all universes, not just mine. I am Danny, just not your universe’s Danny.”

Sam and Tucker felt a wave of disappointment wash over them. It was great that Danny from another universe got all powerful and stuff but it was still disheartening that it wasn’t their Danny in the circle.

“Soo… what’s up? People don’t really summon the Ghost King unless crazy shit is going down,” Ghost King Danny said, leaning forward on his throne.

Sam and Tucker explained everything, from the GIW to the SCP Foundation to their Danny never returning. Alive or dead.

“Huh… weird. Well he’s not dead. If an alternate me died I would have seen the paperwork,” the kingly version of their friend said while thinking. Then a tired look appeared on his face as if he had remembered something and it was something quite annoying.

“Clocky… what did you do?” he asked the air. Another post it note appeared. Danny read the note. Then let out a large sigh.

“You two ever heard of Gotham?”

Part 2 Part 4

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead. 

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants. 

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse. 

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit. 

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits. 

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault. 

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim. 

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight. 

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine. 

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look. 

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes. 

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror. 

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it. 

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face. 

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him. 

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you. 

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said. 

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same. 

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after. 

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle. 

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to. 

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead. 

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills. 

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself. 

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again. 

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands. 

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones. 

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore. 

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. 

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her. 

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her. 

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved. 

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved. 

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you. 

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them. 

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?” 

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage. 

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe. 

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again. 

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better. 

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years. 

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan. 

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house. 

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves. 

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home. 

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real. 

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up. 

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this. 

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them. 

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better. 

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad. 

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can. 

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real. 

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand. 

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do. 

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying. 

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch. 

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture. 

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself. 

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob. 

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything. 

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway. 

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since. 

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt. 

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse. 

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better. 

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh. 

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive. 

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped. 

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you. 

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy. 

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns. 

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight. 

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you. 

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room. 

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something. 

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him. 

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said. 

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now. 

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face. 

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings. 

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in. 

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.” 

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @allllium  ♡ 

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [16]

Danny has been with the Wayne’s for a while now and his status as a halfa is starting to affect some things he comes in contact with a little bit.

At first he thought this only happened back in his old home in Amity Park because the ectoplasm samples were kept in the fridge, and though that does speed up the process, it turns out Danny causes the same things to happen just fine on his own. It just takes a lot longer.

This means he now occasionally has to replace or decontaminate some of his things every once in a while. and with the electronics the same applies but usually the protections that Tucker has made do the trick too.

Danny has been very careful, he never borrows anything that’s highly susceptible to ecto-contamination from the others and whenever he needs something from the kitchen he just goes to Alfred (he really doesn’t want to see how the old man might react to the coffee machine starting to act weird because of Danny). Just, the last thing Danny wants to do is inconvenience the Wayne’s by ecto-contaminating something of theirs.

It’s really only when Danny slips back into vigilante-ism that things go sideways.

And Danny really tried. His obsession is space, not heroism, so he figured he’d be fine just focussing on his education. But he kinda forgot about the fact that he just really really loves being a hero.

He loves the thrill, the danger. He loves giving a smackdown and just in general having a good fight, he loves helping people, he loves being a force of good. And yeah, he kinda also likes the praise, but nothing weird and overbearing (some people go way too far in their hero worship, but that’s a story for another day)

So after some back and forth and arguments with Bruce who, contrary to popular belief, was absolutely not thrilled that his latest traumatized kid who was being kept safe in the mansion so far now decided that no, he wants to be part of the family business too please.

Danny eventually threatens to just go out anyway without any of his help and that just gives Bruce flashbacks to the time when he had just taken Dick as his ward. Not to mention some of his other kids and… dammit.

Well then… Danny can go explain things to Jason himself once he finds out and is probably going to be mad about it, Bruce is not taking the blame this time.

So Danny (name pending, he could just go with Phantom again, but he also wouldn’t mind using something bird or bat related) gets back into the game once again! And that’s fine that’s cool. But back to the original point.

Danny figured that he would just do what he’s been doing so far with any bat gadgets as well, and maybe it would be even less of a problem cause he’s pretty sure that these things break a lot more often because of all the fights and stuff.

What Danny had not really thought about though is potential intense high emotion situations. Like for very specific example; Scarecrow taking an obsessive interest in him because of Danny’s ghostly ability to feed on fear (somewhat) and the situation getting out of hand, him getting very hurt, Batman having to carry him out of there while Danny was kinda bleeding a bit (a lot). Bruce being worried and Danny wanting to be anywhere but there anymore and-

Well, you get the point.

So, take all that and add high tech bat armor and what you get is suddenly sentient batsuit.

It actually took a bit for anyone to catch on that something was going on, but it was eventually figured out. and once that was the case Danny couldn’t really help his seemingly endless stream of apologies.

But how can anyone ever blame him for bleeding out on Bruce and the weird reanimative properties of said blood making it so Bruce’s suit can now “talk”

Bruce described it more as like a martian mind link, which would explain why only he could hear things. it’s probably only for the wearer.

It can’t move on it’s own, it needs someone to wear it. But it can sense things and react for the wearer and honestly all that alone is more than enough reason to find a way to exorcise it… if not for the whole,

“but if it’s a sentient ecto entity now we can’t just ‘kill’ it, we literally abolished the anti ecto acts just so that can’t be done anymore”

it’s probably a good thing the suit has grabbed all the ‘Batman’ and made that what it is. All the core values are there, so there isn’t going to be any risk of it killing someone at least.

Still though… what to do now?

[weebsinstash]

"Hero forced to work for/exploited by the villain who also has a big ass fetish for you" will always be one of my top tropes and goddamn does Cecil have the capacity to be such a massive creepy piece of shit like, forgive me father for I'm about to sexualize an old man again

Maybe it stems from my childhood where I was adultified really young and then raised to suppress my own feelings while also having to constantly perform emotional labor for other people but I've always resented the trope of "oh Superpowered Person, you're so powerful that you're OBLIGATED to help save others because you're the only one who can and if you're not personally jumping to solve every problem it's your fault if something bad happens" and I keep thinking of a Reader who, Viltrumite hybrid, mutant, magic user, whatever, you develop your powers and the GDA eventually starts crawling up your ass as you EMPHATICALLY refuse to help them with fuck all about dick nothing

Cecil starts spying on you and having you tailed because it's his job while progressively becoming more... unhealthy towards you. The level of monitoring and invasion of your privacy is extreme, but also, not untypical for the GDA in general, so it's quite literally required by him to watch thencameras all over your home, have your phone bugged, learn your routine and habits and personality. Yeah dude he's just watching you get all sweaty doing squats and personal training in your bedroom for "research purposes". He's definitely watching you work out and study and put insane amounts of effort to appear like you don't have any powers "exclusively" because he's required to and has to gauge if you're a threat and he totally isn't being some proud little pervert at watching you tone your body

Personally I've been thinking of a Reader who is more closer to a Kryptonian than a Viltrumite and you deliberately scare the shit out of Cecil to try and make him go away. Cecil tries to approach you for an interaction but misrepresents who he is and what he does. Sits down next to you on a park bench and makes small talk, like he's just someone from the area, trying to feel you out but also, feeling a certain thudding in his chest that he's getting to finally talk to you. And you humor him, putting on false pretenses yourself which he isn't aware of until you just drop on him something like "but why are you ACTUALLY talking to me, Director Cecil Stedman of the GDA?"

he sits there wondering how the fuck you would even know that, heart thudding and briefly being struck with the fear of God as you stoically tap the side of your head, "as a friendly piece of advice, sir, when you want to gather intel on someone who you don't know exactly what abilities they have, maybe you should tell your boys back at HQ to be careful about what they're saying into that little earpiece buzzing against the bones of your ear" as you then perfectly recount several of the things that his men had said over the codec while Cecil was sitting there and even mockingly repeating after them to prove that, oh yeah, you've got superhuman hearing

"I didn't join the GDA to sit and watch the Director sit on a bench and talk about the weather" "don't talk like Stedman is wasting his time you brat, this is basic intelligence gathering" "hey, if you want to watch Cecil ask a handful of stupid bullshit questions for 20 minutes instead of training the Guardians, be my fucking guest" and you just cross your arms and look down on him, "really, if you're the best the government has, I can see why you're desperate to scoop up anyone with even mild skills"

I want a superpowered Reader who, unlike Mark, actually genuinely PUTS EFFORT into trying to scare the shit out of him to make him fuck off and he's just like. Honestly turned on by it.

You have him held by the throat, squeezing releasing squeezing releasing as you have a lowkey villain monolog about "what makes you think if I wanted to help humanity that I would do it by working for the government, let alone a government that won't even let their citizens have good healthcare? Why would I waste my time pretending I'm patriotic and saving lives when you're just going to let kids keep dying in school shootings and people have to file bankruptcy over their cancer treatmenrs" and you're getting so up in his face he can smell what you have for breakfast and. You pause, scowling. "You know what, I'm gonna give you a free pass and assume that your dick pressing against your pants is just from the endorphins from the little rushes of oxygen I'm letting you have" and he's just nodding like "yeah yeah that's definitely the reason" but. It's not lmao

You could be actively antagonistic against this man and he's still. Tryna be friendly and shit, deflecting your hostility and sometimes even neutralizing it by being amicable and kind of kissing your ass a little bit. He's personally approaching you multiple times to try and recruit you, risking meeting you face to face because HE wants to be the one to talk to you. God forbid you're actually forced to defend the planet over some bullshit like "yeah I only killed that thing because it was heading towards where I live and I didn't want it to ruin my stuff" and here's Stedman, getting on your ass about how you're wasting your potential, you could be saving lives instead of fucking around at home in your spare time, 'think of all the good you can do, we could get you your own costume' and they already know your exact measurements because, oh yeah, Cecil's already seen your naked body several times over by having your bedroom and bathroom bugged

Oh, he'll sit and watch those monitors until the sun goes down, but if one of his younger colleagues nudges their buddy and cracks a joke about how seeing you in the shower "gives them something to enjoy later tonight" and just outright creeping and joking about gooning over you, they look up to see Cecil staring at them with borderline murderous intent and he plays it off as "take your job seriously, you fucking idiot, we're saving lives here" but nah dog they start creeping too many times and Cecil's pulling a Tanya the Evil by deliberately deploying them to a position where he knows they're going to get absolutely fucking bodied. Oh wow that guy he caught making deragatory perverted jokes at the water cooler over how muscular you're starting to get happened to get put on Hail Mary babysitting duty and the giant alien wound up eating him alive? Oh nooooo, not Jerry, he was so popular and everyone liked him, oh noooo how tragic. anyways back to business-

Cecil sends Nolan or the Immortal to try and talk to you to convince you to join the Guardians and it turns into a complete slugfest where you take a few good hits but ultimately wind up beating the absolute fuck out of that man and Cecil, where with literally anyone else would probably be reasonably shocked and terrified and immediately making contingencies, is glued to the monitors with a look of respect and awe, "see, THAT'S why we need them on our side. Look at how easily they took out one of our best defenses. We CAN'T let them go"

Deadass I'd consider working as a Guardian myself IF they paid me a metric fuckton of money and they obviously have the funds for it given how willy nilly Cecil uses that teleporter that takes literal billions of dollars every time he uses it. Cecil fantasizing in his head of the moment he convinces you to start working for Uncle Sam and how HE'S the one who managed to change your mind. Cecil watching you a throw a monster stories high around like it's fucking nothing and then going home and beating his dick like it owes him money

But also. A scenario where they put a thingy in your head or in your body. You eventually try to break off working for the government and even maybe threatening to leave the planet entirely and Cecil is hitting a button that completely incapacitates you. Think of how absolutely fucked Mark would have been if he didn't have his friends and Robot to protect him and remove that device. He would've been an actual fucking slave, always living under the threat of getting brain-blasted st any signs of disobedience. For you, it's being completely unable to leave the planet, or having any attempts to escape or avoid the GDA completely nullified.

They develop a special needle made from the parts of a monster who managed to cut you and you're held down flailing by other heroes who consider you a threat (and or are also perverts for you, like Nolan) as you get jabbed as they try to find a chemical concoction that's capable of sedating you. Maybe they find one. Maybe they can't. The horror is in the helplessness. You can no longer truly refuse any call to action by the GDA without getting zapped by something you have no ability to remove or disable. You're trapped.

I also like the idea of Reader being something like Darwin from the X-men where your power is that you respond and adapt to your environment. It turns out you developed powers like flight and superstrength because you literally live on a planet surrounded by aliens and people with magic and superpowers and your body adapted to those dangerous surroundings. Which also means, Cecil shocks you enough times and suddenly, you start tanking it. You take that electricity or trilling noise in your brain and suddenly, it starts to not make you hurt or disoriented as much; you're fucking eating it up like it's lunch. Cecil stands there and watches as you slowly stand to your full height, your expression shifting as you obviously can no longer be affected by the ONE contingency that was working on you besides having their very strongest all team up on you at once and only to SOME degree of success

Cecil knowing he should be fearing his life but truly being in awe of you. You're considering killing him and he's all but sighing, "wow, you really are something, aren't you. Just full of surprises"

But uh, as fun as that idea would be, I think keeping Reader trapped has so much more drama and angst and potential for fun, and now that you're under Cecil's full control, he can take delight (and be freaky deaky) at the fact he now has complete unrestrained access to you and you are never, EVER getting away. So hey kid, why not humor your boss and let him treat you after you just slayed a giant space monster. Why yes he did imply you were going to a celebration with other heroes and it turned out he's just taking you to a private candlelight dinner. What are YOU going to be able to do about it? :)

[solarstranger]

You just know Bakugo mentally catalogs every little thing he learns about you. Especially your type/dating preferences

It's cute to imagine him comparing himself whenever you mention something you find attractive

And if it's a body part? He's suddenly showing it off more

and he tries to convince himself he's not doing any of that on purpose!!!! it's not his fault he's got superb acuity and is good at memorizing things. 😔

bakugou katsuki is a smart man.

sure, he may be as subtle as a gun when it comes to some—okay, most—things, but he can definitely be inconspicuous when need be.

things like his feelings, or whatever the fuck these sensations that never fail to spring violently up in his chest when he so much as looks at you mean.

and it’s not like he’s being obvious, he thinks. he’s not even doing any of this on purpose. it just so happened that the one time you told mina in passing during one of your weekly dinners that you thought guys with glasses were cute, his eye clinic ran out of his prescription contacts the day after when he was supposed to pick them up, and he was forced to start wearing his reading glasses to work.

or the other time when he heard you excitedly mention a band he hadn’t heard before in a conversation with sero, he accidentally clicked on their latest album that was featured in his spotify account’s new music friday and wound up listening to the whole thing.

or the other time when you praised kirishima about his arms looking so good, he was in the middle of sprucing up his workout regimen with his trainer, and ended up adding more exercises for his biceps and triceps.

all of which are things he’s kept to himself, because while he knows deep in his heart that these are all merely funny coincidences, it might not seem that way for dumbasses looking from the outside.

dumbasses like—

“man,” kaminari drawls, pointing at your tv screen from where he’s plastered comfortably on your living room couch, “i wish i had michael b. jordan’s guns.”

“that’s what you’re staring at?” sero laughs from the other sofa, mouth half-full with popcorn.

“what?” the electric hero asks defensively, glancing at sero with a pout, “there are two of them. it’s hard not to stare.”

“i agree,” you chime in quietly, nodding, “it’s admirable. he must’ve worked so hard to get those.”

“thank you,” kaminari huffs, vindicated, and tosses you a grateful look. you grin at the blonde in response, just as bakugou feels kirishima stir right beside him, turning towards you.

“bakubro’s been working on his arms, too,” the redhead adds proudly, before glancing back at the ash-blonde, a knowing glint in his eyes. “isn’t that right?”

“uh, yeah,” is the only thing bakugou manages to say after a beat, acutely aware of your curious eyes on him, and it takes everything within him not to shoot the man with a warning glare.

“really?” you ask, struggling to mask your surprise. bakugou feels himself flame despite himself. “i thought you were gonna focus on your legs?”

“i just felt like mixing it—”

“oh, he wanted you to—ow!”

as if on cue, kaminari groans dramatically, the pillow that mina just flung straight at him now lying flatly on the floor.

“i didn’t get that,” you frown, eyes darting between bakugou and kaminari. “what did you two say?”

“nothing,” kaminari croaks just as bakugou grumbles a “forget it”.

“do you guys mind?” mina interjects, but not before secretly flashing bakugou an apologetic grimace, probably on behalf of the man. “i’m trying to watch a movie here.”

so, yes. bakugou can not be as subtle as a gun.

but his friends apparently couldn’t.

a/n. this one's pretty stupid but i wanted to whip something up based on this ask because i fuck with this headcanon so bad. thank you nonie for the input!!!! had to throw in a little bit of bakusquad because why not >:)

[not-my-final-account]

I’VE FALLEN DOWN THE RABIT HOLE OF DANNY PHANTOM AND NOW I CAN’T ESCAPE

Once the Justice League was losing. It was the end of the world. No seriously, the world was an hour away from being blown to bits.

-

Constantine sighed and rubbed his face, he had just ran out of cigarettes and it was making him more jumpy than was truely necessary in any given situation. Him and most of the bigger heros in the Justice League sat in a cave and were forced to wait out the apocalypse, well, the hour left of it anyways.

Constantine sighed and looked up to what you could see of the sky from inside their cave, he was almost… afraid. Afraid of what was going to happen, afraid that it had come to this, afraid that the rumours were true or even worse than they seemed, Pariah Dark was not known for caring nor his mercy.

Honestly Constantine was going to consider it lucky if he died and got to rest in peace, even more lucky if the world actually got saved! This was a last ditch effort.

Constantine grabbed a piece of chalk from his pocket, it was worn from years of carrying it around. He settled it on the flattest piece of stone he could find and started drawing the circle he had memorised. “John what are you doing?” Wonder Woman asked, he ignored her and took a deep breathe

“Oh dark king of the ghosts.” he prayed, there were truely only a few necessary words but Constantine felt like he needed to add a message, so he kept speaking as he drew the intricate patterns of the circle “My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please K I N G O F T H E G H O S T S.” Constantine begged, Wonder Woman and most of the others sat up or got more defensive, it truely said something that Batman didn’t bother.

-

Danny Phantom sat playing DOOM with Sam and Tucker, cheering when we got to a higher level. Suddenly something tugged at his core and a voice whispered through his ears

…oh dark king of the ghosts. My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please…

“-anny? Danny?” Sam asked “Hello?” she said in a sing song voice

“Still with us Danny?” Tucker asked, Danny swallowed,

“I- I’ve got to go.” he said

-

Constantine sat on his knees in front of the circle and… nothing happened, Superman glanced at him and started to sit back down when suddenly the stone inside the circle fell away into a green spiral.

Superman gasped and jumped back up

“Don’t attack him, bow.” Constantine instructed, reluctantly Superman and everyone else did, except for Batman of course, what’d you expect? Him to change? Just because the world was ending?

A pale hand reached up from the circle and grabbed the edge; whoever was in the circle pulled themself up slowly and as they came closer to the mortal realm Superman got a sense of dread, of death, of… something else, of authority, and everyone in the room seemed to find themselves bowing lower. Superman couldn’t help but think, had Constantine double-doomed the world?

-

Constantine looked up as the figure hovered above the circle, he was the first to move from his bow. This… wasn’t what Constantine expected Pariah Dark to look like, he was still imposing but didn’t fit the ghost kings reputation.

He had a cape as dark as the shadows with glowing constellations and stories sown into the fabric. He had a crown that burned with green fire and floated above his head, his eyes glowed the same green as the crown and his hand had a single ring. He wore royal looking clothes, white boots and gloves with a black shirt and pants.

This was the ghost king “Pariah Dark, King of Ghosts. I am Constantine-”

“Pariah Dark? I dethroned him years ago! I’m Danny Phantom.” the ghost king introduced.

“I meant no disrespect your highness.” Constantine quickly said

“I don’t- never mind. You asked for me to save earth?” King Phantom asked, Constantine gulped

“Y-yes, we can’t win, please, I- I’ll do anything.” he begged,

“A favour.” King Phantom said

“What?” Constantine asked

“A favour, I’ll save your world for a favour from you and your friends.” King Phantom said.

A favour to a ghost king who was probably very evil, that is so stupid and such a horrible idea, who in their right mind would-

“Deal.” Constantine agreed.

There was a flash of bright light and King Phantom disappeared, after a few seconds of him being gone the sounds of a battle echoed through the cave.

“Constantine what did you just rope us into?” Batman asked. Constantine really, really needed a cigarette.

-

Years ago, the world was ending. In a last ditch effort Constantine summoned… something. Superman didn’t know much about the ghost king that had appeared, just that he was powerful, and that the better half of the Justice League owed him a favour. It had been on everyone’s minds for a few months after that deal, waiting for the day they would be called for something horrific and hoping it wouldn’t ruin them or their morals. But truthfully, after a few years everyone sorta forgot about it; it was the type of thing no one remembered unless the subject at hand related to it, and even then you were uneasy for a day and forgot all over again.

So when a scroll appeared in a flash of green light during a meeting one day, Superman would like to say that the freaking out was justified.

Batman (who seemed to adopt everyone he met in one way or another) shushed the group of panicking superhero’s and picked up the scroll “I am calling in your favour, when you finish reading this you will all be teleported to my aid. Signed, Phantom.” Batman read. Oh no.

In another flash of green light they appeared in a park with a few heros who hadn’t even been in the room. Everyone immediately put up their defences and raised various weapons, then they realised the park was empty. Superman looked around using X-ray vision, he had no clue what was going on in the seemingly peaceful that could make a ghost king ask for help, then he looked through a hill and saw a giant green dog running with two kids gripping it’s lead.

As the dog jumped on top of then off the hill and ran in front of them Superman could make out the words in their screams

“Sit boy, sit!” the Batman looking one called

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! NO OFFENCE DANNNYYYY!!!” the one with devices falling out of his bag and pockets yelled.

Everyone lowered their weapons and Flash relaxed and scoffed

“This is what that ghost guy called us in for? This is going to be a breeze!” Flash said happily

“Don’t judge a book by its cover Flash.” Constantine warned. Superman was about to agree with flash when the ghost king suddenly appeared in the air in front of us, dripping in something green which looked alarmingly like blood- oh god the ghost king was dying!? Re-dying?!

“Forget I said anything,” Flash raised his hands in the air and got ignored as we rushed over to the ghost king who had fallen out of the air and onto the ground.

Before anyone could do anything though another person appeared out of thin air and then floated down

“Join me Daniel! Together we could rule the world!” he asked, okay that was an evil guy if Superman had ever seen one, he even had the looks to go with it, you could mistake him as Dracula … was that Dracula?

Suddenly another guy who looked like the ghost king body slammed Dracula from the air

“I WILL RULE THE WORLD AND ME ALONE!” as he stood up Superman noticed he looked just like the ghost king only older and more evil looking. As if the mention of look-a-likes summoned her, a small girl who also looked just like the ghost king only younger and female body slammed evil twin number 1.

“Not on my watch you fruitloop!” she yelled. Suddenly a woman in a track suit with ridiculous looking googles and carrying an oversized gun jumped down

“Get away you evil ghosts!” she yelled and fired some energy weapon at the small group, they all scattered and the four of them fought when some girl on a hover board swooped in and pointed her hand at the ghost king

“Danny Phantom! You and all of ghost kind will pay!!” she yelled, something on her wrist started glowing when

“GET AWAY FROM DANNY!” a school girl yelled. Her orange hair swung around as she discus threw her books and bag right into the girls face. They also ran off into the distance to fight.

“What?” Flash asked,

“When he said.” Green Lantern agreed.

“The Dracula looking one is Vlad, he’s a bad guy, so is my evil self from an alternate timeline, we call him Dan, Dani is the small girl who looks like me, that’s because she’s my clone, she’s on the good side but she might steal your stuff just because she can so be careful,” he took a wheezy breath “My sister Jazz is the one who hurled her books into the air to protect me, she’s good. The girl in the red suit is Red Huntress, she’s good she just doesn’t understand -same with my parents, the couple in the jumpsuits, their ghost hunters.” the ghost king explained

“Wait, your parents are ghost hunters?” Flash asked

“Yeah?” the ghost king asked- oh I see.

“But you’re a ghost?” Flash said

“I’m technically a halfa actually, but trust me I know. It’s all ‘we’re going to tear apart the ghost boy molecule by molecule’ and never ‘is the ghost boy good or bad’.” the ghost king groaned, I reached out to help “I’ll be fine go fight or help!” he said