#she has hidden powers and it’s up to her to save the world??

[rosencatholic]

I don’t know if it’s just publishers letting anything be published nowadays, but the fantasy romance genre used to be my favorite genre since I was a teen. Now I can’t even get through five pages without cringing or rolling my eyes at the terrible writing or the predictable characters and plot that I can see coming from miles away.

[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  ♡ 

[starless-nightz]

Remember me

note -> ACT 3 SPOILERS!!! I am NOT okay!

parts -> part one | [part two]

pairing -> Jinx X fem! reader, platonic! Isha X fem! reader

summary -> You will always remember them.

warnings -> mentions of death.

content includes -> angst, death, suicidal thoughts, Vi and Ekko appear.

Life with Jinx and Isha felt perfect in a way you never thought possible.

The three of you spent most of your days hidden away in your workshop or Jinxs lair because of her wanted status. But you never minded it. If anything, you cherished the quiet moments the three of you shared.

Your days together were filled with laughter and creativity—tinkering with inventions, sketching out wild ideas, and playing games that felt like they belonged in a world far kinder than Zaun.

On rare occasions, you’d venture out into the Undercity together, blending into its chaos and finding moments of joy in its grim corners.

And at night, when everything settled, you’d find yourself lying between them. Isha’s small frame curled up beside Jinx, and Jinx’s breath soft, her head laying on your shoulder.

You’d look at them, the two people who had somehow become your entire world, and feel a warmth in your chest.

In those moments, you let yourself believe it could last. That the three of you could stay like this forever—safe, whole, and happy.

But Zaun isn't a place for dreams.

And you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

————

It all happened so fast.

In one moment you were fighting alongside Jinx and in the next Isha was running towards Vander, Jinxs gun held tightly in her small hands.

You knew what she was going to do as she put two more hextech gemstones in the gun, and Jinx knew it very well too.

You two tried to get to her, calling out her name, trying to stop her from doing it, but you two were stopped by Vi, pulling you both back as you two despreatly called for the little girl.

The only thing you could do in that moment was watch as Isha shot a finger gun at you two before firing the real gun upwards, closing her eyes, feeling at peace knowing she was protecting you two.

And your world slowly started shattering into tiny pieces.

————

You knew you couldn't do anything.

You know you couldn't save her.

Jinx has already accepted her fate a long time ago, she wasn't scared of death and she made peace with it.

"Always with you sis." Jinx said as Vi tried to pull her up. Jinx quickly removed the hextech gemstone from Vis gauntlets, making them power off and letting Jinx go.

Jinx looked at you with a small smile on her face as she started fallling. You screamed her name as you watched her fall before an explosion went off.

And in that moment your whole world shattered into tiny pieces.

————

"Is there anything so undoing as a family?" you whispered, your words barely audible over the soft hum of Piltover below.

Your knees were brought up close to your chest, arms wrapped tight around them as your fingers absently traced the jagged edges of the bomb's shattered metal head of the bomb that had taken her life.

Vi and Ekko sat beside you in silence, their gazes fixed on the distant glow of the city. Neither of them said a word, and you couldn't bring yourself to fill the void.

They didn't know you well, not really; just a shared face in their grief, a faint reflection of their own shattered hearts. But in this moment, words didn't matter.

Each one of you had lost the most significant person in your life that day. A single point of light went out in a way that no amount of tears, anger, or revenge would ever balance.

Jinx was gone.

And nothing would ever bring her back.

————

You knew your couldn't bring Jinx and Isha back, you know that the hole in your heart will never disappear.

You stood in Jinxs destroyed lair, holding onto one of her explosions as you looked down into the abyss.

You didn't want to live anymore, there was no reason for you to be alive. The only two people that made your life worth living for were gone, and you couldn't bring them back.

You wanted to end your life.

But before you could leap from the ledge a voice stopped you, making your ears perk up.

"Whatcha doing, toots?"

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 5 - No Time to Waste

It’s been a week and a half since the last power surge incident and so far everything was quiet. Too quiet for Batman’s liking. It definitely increased his paranoia which in turn causes him to be extra moody. The culprit? Whoever was behind the power surge in the Narrows. They became an anomaly to Gotham. Unwanted, an eyesore in the eyes of Batman.

And the issue is, there hasn’t been any news at all. No sightings, no suspects, nothing. Bruce felt challenged in a way. Something is in Gotham, living in his city and he feels like he’s still so far from discovering who or what it is. For the world's greatest detective is having a hard time solving this case. How frustrating.

With no news of another quantum breach, big or small, nothing. It’s frustrating. What’s even more of a headache about this unsolved case, is another thing that has come to his attention- thanks Jim.

Bruce started hearing more reports of a new ‘vigilante’. But there are no pictures, no camera footage, no evidence, just testimonies, occasional sightings and witnesses. Nothing concrete, nothing solid, just no proof. So frustrating.

And there is a pattern.

What he does know is that they are always quick and efficient, never staying too long, leaving once or before the police arrive, and it’s always low level crooks like muggers or thiefs. Respectful and polite (from those they saved) and they mostly keep to the shadows of the night.

Whoever this new problem is, is trying to stay hidden and Batman doesn’t like that at all. Not. One. Bit. 

Despite the Narrows being Duke’s territory, he is just one person who patrols in the daytime, so some of his sons and daughter help patrol at night. But it seems this newcomer has incredible luck and scurries off everytime they are even close to their location.

But this doesn’t mean Batman will just let it go, oh no. Of course not silly, he’s going to find this new vigilante and see what they are about. He’s going to evaluate them, judge them, and all it takes is one mess up. Just one and he will make sure they are locked up in Arkham.

A bit extreme, possibly. But he will take no chances, not when it comes to the safety of his city. Gotham is his to protect and defend, he’s keeping many eyes out for this intruder. Watch your back.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding hour B, but I have something I think you want to know. Also you have a message from Commissioner Gordon.” A new voice spoke through his comms.

“On my way.” He replied.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” a third voice snapped. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Explain.” Batman demanded.

“So you see…”

-

After the failed attempt at contacting Miguel, you spent a couple of all nighters in advancing your beacon. This time, it would require even more energy but now it won’t cause a potential blackout. But it will notify the bats of your location like last time.

You know you have to be extra fucking careful this time. You might have gotten lucky those days ago in not getting caught, but you know your luck is shit anyways and Batman is one paranoid mother fucker. Him and his wards.

You have to be very cautious in where you go and how you will do this. This new connector is a bit more sturdier than the lightweight one you made before, but this time it also won’t require you to be stuck in one place. Actually, your signal will ping in more than one location. It will bounce off the cell towers and throw a fake location. 

This will certainly tip the scales to your favor in avoidance of detection. Now, you won’t have to rely on your (shit) spider luck! 

All you have to do is to connect it to a phone or computer, and connect that to any service in the area and manually set it off- which you can easily hack. There is only one tiny itty bitty problem. Guessed it yet? No? Well it’s simple, the only problem is- YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE.

You could theoretically use the library computer but with civilians around you is a big major no. You’re also pretty sure the library closes at like 8 or something.

No worries. You have a solution for this baby problem. Is it build one yourself? Pfft- fuck no. You don’t have time to build a phone and even less for a computer, you still have to tweak your god damn watch for fuck sake. So, you’re just going to buy one.

And with what money- I hear you ask. Simple. You’re going to make some. Time to become Spider-woman again.

Only until you have enough for a decent phone- you said. It’ll be easy- you said. Until you were proven wrong.

You spent two days hunting and defeating crooks, webbing the worst ones up, while the not so bad but are making shitty choices were let go (with the promise of hunting them down should they go back to doing bad stuff). Some advice here and there, pickpocketing criminal’s money, you know, the usual shabang.

Can’t forget you’re avoiding all cameras so as to not give yourself away. Though you almost got caught by the police once, haha. You never stick around long enough to get spotted by the bats or the cops.

Until one night, dressed as a normal civilian, you were coming back from a shelter, turning a corner and you were immediately surrounded by a group of thugs wanting to rob you. You literally have nothing, so the only thing they would be robbing is your backpack with extra clothes and your suit. And maybe like two granola bars.

You tried to charm your way out of this situation because first of all, youre fucking tired, two, you don’t have time for baby shit, and three, you’re about to start tweaking. Of course the five men didn’t take your sarcastic remarks lightly and decided that their knives would do the talking.

So you beat them up. All five of them. 60 seconds was all it took. So to recompense wasting a minute of your time, you loot their cash discreetly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well dressed man popped out of nowhere, getting close to you and you warned him you would break his wrist if he touched you- he still came but didn’t touch you. Holding out a black card he presented it to your face.

“You fight well, kid. If you want to make money fast,real money, call me and go here.”

“Um, I’m not a k-”

“You’ll make hundreds.” He cut you off. Rude. ”And if you impress the boss like you did me, you can make more.”

Spider luck?

Oh well that got your attention. Eyes narrowed. “Fast money, how?”

“Did no one ever teach ya about ‘stranger danger’? It’s a fight club, if you will. A tournament if you’re interested.”

Spider luck.

After pondering it for a quick second, here you are, getting a card with a free invite to a ring, probably filled with big, crazy, and most likely wanted criminals, and you get paid to beat them up? Sign me the fuck up. “I’m very interested.” you nod.

The man gave a crooked smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I’m not-” The man walked away and inside a white limo car. Fuck you.

So you went the next day. Making sure you wore your normal clothes, just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and your face mask, you called the guy.

Meeting him was uninteresting, conversations were nothing exciting, just asking you your fighting style, can you take on a big guy, and whatnot. 

Upon entering the place (behind a well known bar) you were led to a ring, two fighters going at it. You watched how one was clearly more experienced than the other, while the other guy was battered and bleeding but still fighting. Blood spraying everywhere with every hit until he hit the ground cold.

It certainly is a sight.

It was that very day that you had your very first fight.

Stepping into the ring with no prep, no bandages, no helmet, nothing, this was a raw fight through and through, you were immediately booed and laughed at. Tough crowd.

Of course you were not going against a stereotypical big muscular guy that looks like he could bench press a tank. No, in fact you were against a young military deserter as your first opponent. Scars and all. Across his neck laid an identification tag (also known as dog tag). Christopher Conner.

The man in front of you sneered, laughing at you. “No way they sent me a kid. I will break all your bones. Don’t start crying too soon.” he cooed.

He taunted you and the crowd loved it. You, on the other hand, were pretty bored and unimpressed. 

“I’m not a kid…” you huffed behind your face mask.

What was able to be seen on your face must have told him that because he didn’t like being ignored. 

So he swung, a clear hit to be a knock out. You swerve.

This time he kicked, you parried.

He did not like that. Soon a game ensued. Hit attacking and you either blocking or dodging. You didn’t even need your spider sense, you got this in the bag, honestly this was quite sad. The crowd went from booing you to insulting Christopher.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Hit the kid!”

“My money’s riding on you dickface!”

“Don’t you dare lose motherfucker, or I’ll shoot you!”

It seems their insults were getting to the man. You on the other hand kinda started to feel bad.

“Stand still you fucker!” Christopher growled, throwing punches.

You scoffed, “My aunt throws faster punches than you Chris.” You can almost taste the bloodlust seeping from his pores. “Hey man, it's been three minutes, surely you can end this, right?”

Chris’s jaw clenched in anger. He was about to explode. A voice called out your name.

“Nada! Stop wasting time and finish it kid. Or you won’t get paid.” What? What a scam! You’re trying to entertain yourself too y’know, guess this will be a way to relieve stress.

Facing the military man you didn’t give him a second to process when you blew him a kiss and then a fist made contact with his chin, effectively knocking him out the second his back hit the ring walls. “I’m not a kid.”

The crowd was silent before chaos broke. Half the crowd booed and threatened the fallen man, while the other half started cheering.

With how unsatisfied most people were, you had to fight three more times. Each time, you won, with no scratches on you (you did pretend to get hit at times for realism). Each victory secures you cheers and hype.

By the end of your last fight, it was dark out and you were walked off by the same man that brought you here. “Good job kid. I know you were the right call.”

“I’m not-” A thick envelope was thrown. Catching it, you opened it up to find money, lots of money. “Woah.”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Like it? You can make more the more you win.”

Still entrance by the stack of green you nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.” The man walked off and you stared at the money.

“Booyah baby!”

You bought a phone the next morning.

And so it’s been five days since then. You weren’t in a desperate need for money anymore, so you cut your fights down from five to two a day. You still needed time to continue fixing your beacon. Spider-woman sightings have also significantly decreased the more you noticed the increase in security.

You were not taking any chances.

Walking towards the somewhat empty bar, you greeted the bouncer and headed inside to an ‘employees only’ door to meet the guy in the suit. He did tell you his name, but you call him ‘Suit’ in your head regardless. 

“Hey there Nada,” He hears a sigh from behind the mask. “Listen, kid, you’re one of my best fighters, but I need you to lay low for a while. Here.”

Catching a burner phone you tilt your head for an explanation, pocketing it. “Cops?”

“Worse.” he sighs, slicking his hair back. “Bats.”

Fucking spider luck.

Like a bucket of ice and cold water was dumped on you, blood turning cold. You froze in terror. You should have guessed that a hidden fighting ring would not be kept hidden for long. The criminals that you fought and were downright nasty, you made sure they were caught outside and far away from this location. 

And it was random from a list you composed. Enough to make sure you weren’t a suspect. But fuck now you have to erase your presense here. You’re a nobody, Nada, nothing. Guess it really is time to lay lower than low, like a ghost. “I won’t come back then.” Voice serious and cold.

He laughed, pulling out an envelope from his suit's inner pocket. “S’that so?” Handing it out for you to take, his eyes burn into yours. “Then I’ll just have ta hunt you down, kid.”

Taking the envelope (it felt thicker and heavier than usual) and placing it in your pocket you chuckled, cold, fake, calculating. “Try. I’m good at hiding.” Walking away, hands in pocket, feeling both the envelope and the burner phone, turning your body to avoid bumping into a familiar guy speed walking in. “I’m not a kid…” you mumbled to yourself.

You didn’t bother glancing at the man you dubbed ‘Suit’, real name Jacob Sullivan Jones. It seems it’s time for JSJ to have a run in with the Gotham City Police Department. 

It is truly fortunate that Jacob doesn’t know where you're staying. Although he might not know about the warehouse inside the junkyard, he does know you are not a resident with no permanent home. He had stalked you for a bit after the first meeting (the bouncer was so easy to spot really), believing you’re homeless, alone, and a nobody (someone who nobody would miss or look for). You’re using that (somewhat of a mis)information to your advantage.

Leaving the desolate bar, thoughts consumed by the written list of criminals you drafted and plan to anonymously give it to the GCPD. How you got the other criminals caught was simple, you always used a payphone and gave anonymous tips. That won’t work here. At least not fully. Knowing the corruption, maybe you should hand it to the one of the cops you know isn’t corrupt.

Now, do you hack the police and email it? Print it/fax it and send it? Or hand it directly but as spider-woman? Well for starters, the second option is garbage because if the right person doesn’t see it first, it will just get covered up. Hacking into the GCPD and emailing it directly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, the only issue is, if they decided to forward that information to the bats, you’re fucked because then you know they’ll dig in and somehow find out about you.

It seems like going in as Spider-woman is the best bet, but then again, the bats are real close, too close for comfort. Should you take the risk? But if you don’t turn these criminals in, it will stay in your consciousness of letting innocents down. Guess you have to suck it up and do it then.

“This sucks” you mumbled, deep in thought. 

Suddenly you felt your body freeze. Feeling your spider sense go haywire, you looked up and hard swerved to the side, avoiding bumping into a stranger.

It seemed that your sudden change in direction caught the stranger’s attention and the person next to him, both heads snapped towards you.

Hands out of pocket awkwardly waving in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Taking a look at the one you almost bumped into, he is tall, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes.

Taking note of your embarrassment the stranger chuckles, looking into your eyes, “No worries! Nice reflexes though!”

The stranger’s partner scowled in your direction and you could feel his eyes burning you alive. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” Venom.

“Don’t be rude, Dame.”

“Don’t call me that. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Alrighty then, guess it’s time to fuck off. “Yes, thank you- again, so sorry.” You don’t even spare the other guy a glance, quickly scurrying off. Your spider sense hasn’t shut off and you don’t like where this is going. “Good bye.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.”

Not turning back, you quickened to a brisk walk away from this nauseating area. This whole goddamn experience is so nauseating. You just wanted to go home. Was that soooooo much to ask? Regardless, you did not want to know what those strangers wanted, and you were taught ‘stranger danger’ and it certainly applied here.

After a certain distance later, your senses dulled into a small buzz as you turned a corner and entered the public library. Taking your usual empty seat, you let out a deep sigh. This was what you were used to since coming into this world. Since being yoinked from another dimension and plopped in this universe, your senses never really shut off. It was like everything in this world was a danger, and it only spiked when reacting to blood lust, danger of a certain radius, and people who are incredibly strong. 

Recalling that one stranger, who looked too innocent enough for it to be bloodlust, just that their presence caught you so off guard. But your senses screamed at you, and it terrified you to an extent. This is why you can never really relax being here, even when you’re alone in the warehouse, you just feel so out of place, and in danger constantly. It was beginning to eat you up honestly.

You miss your innocent youthful days. God you sound old. But you really do miss having a home to go back to. A home where once you step inside, it’s warm, and two people would always greet you like a warm embrace.

Now it’s cold and desolate, barely anything inside, empty and lonely.

But now, you can’t even go there anymore. Even if it was painful to live in the same home that had more members, then reduced to just you, it was still home. 

You can’t even go home.

Remembering the words Jacob Sullivan Jones spoke to you earlier, you fish out the envelope. Taking note of the weight, it was decided to open it and find more than usual.

Picking up a small zip-lock bag, your eyes widened. It was an ID, an ID and a passport. Just what the fuck was Jacob going to do with giving you this? Why did he make this for you? What were his plans? No, you can’t think about that. This is a blessing for sure, and you’ll take it- but, you have to put Jacob in prison. Now.

This is a gift and you know that with criminals, all gifts are never for free. This is a ‘you owe me’ gift. “Fuck, this sucks.” You just want a moment of peace.

Think, you have to think. Now you have an identification, but, you don’t know if you’re in the system, since once again, incase you forgot, you don’t fucking exist here. Whatever Jacob was thinking, you definitely don’t want a part of it. You’re going to put a stop to this now.

Though, recalling the two strangers earlier, you don’t bother with the rude one of the two, more focused on the one with blue eyes. Something about him just stuck out to you. He looked vaguely familiar.

Okay, let’s take this from the top. You felt a strong sense of precaution, thus causing your spider sense to alert you. Your sense only went away when you were a considerable distance away from those two, so you know it’s about the strangers. Bases covered, perfect. What’s next?

 You only really focused on the one who you almost touched, so let’s continue from there. He is tall, a welldefine body, black hair, and vibrant blue eyes. That’s all you remember seeing now for what you heard. His friend/partner/acquaintance/fellow party member said ‘Kent’, this could be his name or surname but the name ‘Kent’ makes your throat clogged. You only know of another Kent and it’s a superhero.

It couldn’t be…right? 

Turning the computer on, you started typing away, fingers trembling, heart thumping loudly, head spinning, and body sweating. Please, please, please, be wrong. You prayed.

The window search lands on a somewhat recent news. Superman and Superboy save hundreds during bridge collapse! By Lois Lane Kent.

In the photo, on the front page was a scene, both Superman and Superboy. The older one was holding a piece of a bridge while the other younger one was using his heat vision. This was Superman’s son. And you came into contact with him.

You were royally fucking screwed.

Fuck- fuck! No, no nono! 

All the anxiety you tried to lock away came like a tsunami. You were reminded of how small you are in this world. How easy it is to find trouble even without looking. You wanted no part in this world but it seems the gods wanted to fuck you over and over again. 

And, as much as you wanted to curse out the Spot for yeeting you far faaaaaaar from your universe, you only blame yourself for latching onto him and getting lost on the way to his next destination.

God this sucks! You wanted to curl up and cry, but you can’t. You’re a big girl and so, you’ll deal with this fuckery later. After all, your best trait was putting your issues to the side and focusing on the bigger picture. This- meeting Superman’s son can wait. After all, you haven’t run into any bats besides Signal- yes you researched him when you had free time (you only knew of him but not really who he was), so for now, your spider luck has been blessing you thus far.

You need to focus on the bigger picture, getting Jacob and the other criminals caught.

Getting to work, you begin to type away your list that you memorized, the location of the bar, the owner of the bar was still a mystery but the one who runs it is Jacob, schedule of the bouncer shifts, and the names and alias of those who you encountered as well as the situation of misguided teens. You type it all, making sure to keep your real and fake identity out, you did put in your alias Nada, as a picked up street kid. Enough for it to be a ‘misguided’ teen situation but not enough to catch someone’s attention unless they were looking for it.

Now that you know you ran into Clark Kent’s son (a deduction), you know you can’t risk encountering him as spider-woman. Knowing that Superman can (somehow) memorize and identify someone based on their heart beat or whatever, so fuck no are you going to parade as spider-woman any time soon.

You swear to god that you will do everything you can to avoid meeting them in both their civilian personas and alter egos.

Calming yourself, you get ready to hack the GCPD, and leave a message.

‘They know. Scatter.’ 

It hits you. The epiphany of why Jacob had an ID and passport made for you. They were moving locations. Abandoning fort, and taking anyone who they wanted. Basically a trafficking ring for those who weren’t onboard, and a new opportunity for those who they saw potential in. 

Shit, you should have stopped this when Jacob found you, but you didn’t know anything then. Now it could be too late. But Jacob did say to lay low, so they’re mostly biding their time. Probably erasing, hiding, and misplacing real and fake evidence.

They need to get exposed now, ‘strike while the iron is hot’ as the saying goes. 

It seems like it’s time to meet the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, James “Jim” Gordon, as Spider-woman. How fun… 

Way to contratic your fucking promise so soon. Well, at least it’s a civilian and not a hero/vigilante. “This fucking sucks.”

-

Damian scoffed when Tim wanted to force his father the Batman into his lead. It’s not that he doesn’t want his father, it’s just this is an undercover sort of situation. He got a lead when he went to interrogate a pathetic military criminal. He can handle this mission on his own.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” Damian heard Jon chuckle, most likely overhearing this conversation with his super hearing. What a nuisance.  “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Well that was something. So, what’s the plan that you didn’t want Lizzie to be involved in?”

“Focus, Jon.” Damian explained their stakeout first, before going to don their costumes. Deep in their conversation, Damian caught sight of one of the suspects speed walking past them. He brings this to Jon’s attention. “It's him, the mercenary Christopher Conner.”

“Okay, so this bar is the place. Let me check real quick.” Using his vision, Jon’s eyebrow furrows. “Next door is styled like a wrestling ring, only two exits. From here and from an office. This is the place.”

“Then we’ll change and apprehend the criminal. Watch and hear what he is saying.” Jon followed Damian’s lead when someone jumped out of his way like he was burning them, causing Damian to also turn his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Despite the mask covering their mouth, their voice of this buffoon sounded androgynous, their clothes didn’t help to differentiate a gender either. But what he can see were this stranger’s eyes, and he can’t look away.

It seems neither can Jon as he chuckles and waves off the encounter. “No worries! Nice reflexes though!” Jon makes it very obvious he’s staring hard.

Just what is it about this total insignificant stranger that caught Damian’s undivided attention? From what he can see, they look normal (can’t really tell with that face mask though), but there is just something that has him unable to take his eyes off of them.

Jon has the same issue, and Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowls. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” 

Jon, without breaking eye contact, scolds Damina. “Don’t be rude, Dame.”

Snapping out of this trance, he snaps back,” Don’t call me that.” That’s right, they are on a mission, no distractions allowed. “We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Jon looks at Damian, as he too, regains his focus, eyes staring into each other as if communicating, he nods. They can come back to this after they finish their assignment. 

“Yes, thank you- again, so sorry. Good bye.” The stranger quickly scurried off.

Caught off guard Jon impulsively extended his arm out to grab their shoulder. “Hey wait a minute!” 

Damian acted faster, grabbing Jon’s arm. “What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.” Pointing towards the bar with his head. This isn’t good, they’re getting sidetracked.

Jon didn’t turn to look at Damian, no he was still staring at the stranger. “I just wanted to ask…” He trailed off as he strained his ears, focusing on their heartbeat, their breathing patterns, anything he could to commit to memory. “For their name.”

Damian, too, side glanced at the retreating figure, dissecting the way they moved, their tensed shoulders, everything until they were out of sight.

Jon wanted to ask their name. Was that weird? Their situation didn’t require him to ask their name. How would he even go about it, ‘Sorry for almost bumping into you, hey can I ask for your name?’ Yea, no.

“Damian, I-” Jon began before getting caught off.

“I know. We’ll deal with that later,” His eyes narrow, glancing at the bar. “Focus.” But he too was entranced. But he was much better at pushing that to the side, but he knows he won’t be able to hold it off for now. The best he can do is rein in Jon’s attention to the assignment.

Moving to a cafe nearby with a good view of the bar’s entrance, they ordered some drinks. This wasn’t Damians idea but he’ll let Jon have his way for cooperating.

Jon nodded, getting back into focus, using his super hearing to overhear the conversation inside the bar.

His stomach tingles at the thought of asking the stranger for their name.

Hand discreetly on his year Damian spoke, “Drake, look into the time of now and send it over to me.”

“Hey- wait-” Tim was caught off guard, “What’s this about? I thought you didn’t ‘require assistance’ for this.” He teased. 

“I don’t.” He shut the comms off. Now, back to work. “What’s going on Jon?”

“This is our guy. He’s getting assigned to deliver a package. This is serious. He’s upset.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Tt. Follow.”

Jon tunes into the conversation again.

“The police aren’t the issue. It’s the costumes that have been spotted close. We already lost a couple of our men to the cops.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious? We have a traitor!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Chris? Ever since Sebastian was caught by the fucking commissioner, the others have been getting caught like flies here in Gotham. He’s spilling, so I need to silence him.” 

“The usual?”

“No, not you this time. We’re leaving so I need you to focus on one more thing.”

“Is it about them, the one you want to recruit?”

“Yes, I want them-” a phone rang interrupting the conversation. “It’s the boss. Dismissed, I’ll send ya the rest later.”

“Understood sir. I’ll deliver the packages tonight.” The mercenary walked off, no longer as upset as earlier.

Jon, processing the information, becomes visibly upset. “They’re recruiting, and based on the conversation, it's the runaway and homeless teens that have been reported by the shelters. This is bigger than just Gotham. I think they’re leaving, moving somewhere else.”

“Let’s follow.” Damian’s attention was caught at the mercenary leaving the bar. “There.”

“The guy he was talking to said he would ‘send the rest later’, I think it will be on his phone.” Jon informed.

Damian absorbed the information. “We’ll follow and catch him red handed.”

“What about ‘the package’?” Jon questioned.

“What about them? I’ll forward the intel to the rest. We focus on this guy. The evidence on his phone is all we need.”

“Dame, I can’t with good conscience leave those vulnerable kids on their own.” Stressed Jon.

“And we’re not. The others will take care of it.” Damian replied. “When we apprehend the mercenary, acquire the intel, we go after this guy while the others detain their accomplices and rescue the runaways. They will all fall tonight, Jon, so focus.”

Jonathan Kent wanted to bite back, but he knows Damian ran this plan at least three times before bringing him along. Damian is just that strategic. And he places his full trust in him, god does this leave him unsatisfied. He knows those kids are trapped somewhere and if taking this mercenary and the manager from the bar out gets them safe faster, then he will do as he is told.

Something just feels out of place, this has been too easy so far. “Alright, he’s heading north.”

Damian nods, slipping away to change into his suit.

As if connected, Damian as well feels like things have been progressing smoothly. And when it comes to crimes committed in Gotham, when things are going good, then something isn’t right.

Ever since the first the GCPD have been arresting some low and decent levels of this new crime syndicate, news of some human trafficking organizations have been slowly getting uncovered as if by overnight. It started around five days ago, low level members were caught, and just two days ago, a higher member was arrested.

Ever since his father the Batman (he tagged along) interrogated him, he spilled like a waterfall. Since they have been cracking down on the case, they know this criminal organization is trying to get on the levels of Black Mask or The Penguin.

The only issue is, this was only exclusive to Gotham, now based on what Jon relay to him, this is just a small base, there are others. He refuses to let this go on any further. Not to his city, or his people. Yet, there is this itch in the back of his head. These captures were by far too easy, and these people aren’t sloppy. No, they had been operating for some time, and yet they were getting caught like moths to a flame due to anonymous tips being called in. Someone out there is deliberately getting these scumbags caught.

And Batman believes it could possibly have a connection to the other pressing issue that’s consuming his thought. There has to be a connection to the quantum disturbance from a little over a week ago. It’s just too coincidental for it not to be. 

Something is happening in Gotham, and he will get to the bottom of this.

-

You know, people say to plan for everything, thus making Batman a force to be reckoned with since he is the master of having contingency plans and backup plans for those backup plans. And yet, here you are, with a plan and life just wants to fuck you over and expects you to just deal with it.

No.

After coming up with spider-woman handing the commissioner Jim Gordon a list of criminals and misguided teens, you just needed to go and change. But here you are, running into a situation if you will. 

You see, after running away from Superman's son, and a printed list folded neatly in your pocket as you head ‘home’, you started to feel the icky sensation of being watched. Years of experience and knowing how not to tip off that you know, you head away from your place of operations and head up north. 

Though despite not giving signs of how utterly fucking tense and anxious you are, you rationalize that it can not be any of the birds because you haven’t done anything suspicious. That, and the fact that your spider sense isn’t screaming at you of danger so for now, that’s calming you down.

On the other hand, you still have no clue who is following you. It was like, thirty minutes since running into the super, and no call from the burner phone. This whole ‘being followed’ is a fucking nuisance, putting a wrench in your plans. 

The only good thing is that, since you are technically surrounded by civilians walking about, they can’t really do anything to you, unless they want to cause panic amongst the innocents. Though, that wouldn’t stop someone from shooting you if they wanted you dead. 

Still, regardless if you are wanted dead (highly unlikely) or alive (for whatever reason) you don’t want to lead innocent civilians into this, so away you go! Informing Jim Gordon can wait (not it can’t), you’ll lose your pursuer and then catch them!

Turning a corner, into alleyways, zig zagging, you hear their footsteps pick up. Persistent.

While running away, you form theories. We crossed out the batsonas, you haven’t done or got caught with anything to be on their radar afterall, it can’t be a random crook because for one, you look poor too, and second, they’re chasing you for a reason. Another idea was maybe it has something to do with Jacob. But that doesn’t make much sense since you just got a burner phone. 

Something just isn’t adding up. 

Your spider sense spiked as you turned down a corner. Despite this, you kept going straight, ready to take on whoever was going to appear in front of you. 

With a very good distance between you and your pursuer you took this chance to discard your mask and sweatshirt (thank god for having a tank top) ontop of a parked motorcycle as you turned another corner, there stood a man near the end of the alleyway, tall and (once again) wellbuilt, with black hair just standing there, phone in hand.

Quickly you jogged towards him (he glanced your way) and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Sorry, please play along!” you whispered and pulled him.

The stranger only had one second to figure out what was happening. In that split second though, he heard a plea for help. The next thing he knew, he had his free hand on the wall above your head while the other one was moved to your waist. Back towards the wall and having his big frame engulf yours, you let his arm go and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him towards your face. 

It's only then that you take in his appearance, handsome from what you can see, and your heart dropped. “I’m being followed,” you muttered, noticing the stranger’s eyes roam your face before settling on your eyes. “I don’t know who they are.”

The man in front of you nodded, kept in place as footsteps hastily turned the corner, running past the both of you. Your body tensed up watching the hooded figure stop at the end of the alleyway. Taking the chance to observe the guy, he pulled out a phone while looking both ways before exiting from your view.

While you were distracted the stranger in front of you pulled back, making your release your hold. He was quiet. “Once again, I’m so sorry! Thank you!” You nervously backed away, in the opposite direction your pursuer went.

He grunted, watching you walk back away. He opened his mouth to speak but the phone in his hand began to ring. He glanced down at the caller before looking back up. 

You were already gone, picking up your sweatshirt and mask, donning them on and running away. Your heart was pounding so loud, it rang in your ear. That was Jason mother fucking Todd. You ran into the Red Hood. What the fuck was he doing in the Narrows?!

Recalling the words Jacob spoke earlier, it echoed through your head. ‘Bats.’ That’s right. The fucking bats are intown, and this was too close for comfort. This sucks balls!

“Focus, focus. Officer Gordon, here I come.” To the junkyard you go.

-

Jason watched the very pretty woman leave him with his thoughts. Getting pulled into caging someone against a back alley wall was not in his cards today, but with Gotham, one always has to expect the unexpected. 

Speaking of the unexpected, he let himself momentarily get distracted recalling the bold stranger from earlier. Something about this woman, rendered him quiet. But at the same time, he took note of just how anxious she was. Tensed body, eyebrows furrowed, worried expression, scared eyes, and over all the way she held onto him while losing her pursuer. He wondered just what kind of trouble found her. It seems crime really doesn’t stop during the daylight.

He committed her face to memory, and will touch upon her situation once he finished his current assignment. 

“You still there?” the voice spoke from his phone.

“Yea, I’m still here. I’m in the Narrows, following the lead.”

“Good, while Damian follows the mercenary, you got the manager. I’m seeing some suspicious moments. Turn on your commlink, Bruce is already moody as he is.”

“When isn’t he like that.” Jason rolled his eyes as he walked back to his bike that he parked further in the alley. Before taking off, he glanced in the direction the stranger went. Her actions and the sound of her voice repeated inside his mind like an echo, burning itself in his memory.

Prev; Next;

I realized everything I wanted for this chapter did not happen. So now it's split into two parts- oops. Side note, this will not be a yandere series, though I do think they get 'possessive' sure, not yandere though. I finally know how I am going to end the Act, the issue is the in between that I struggle with.

Yay, you met Jon and Jason. Next up are Cass, Steph, Dick, and Tim the only ones left.

Web Bound Secret Corner!

Spider-Woman had an eidetic memory.

Spider-Woman does not know about the trafficked kids.

Spider-Woman did not notice Damian.

If Spider-Woman had to choose between saving a life and going home, she'd save the life.

Spider-Woman's is bad at grieving and worse with failure.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales II

Summary: Princess!Reader makes a deal with the Emperor to try and save her mates.

Content Warnings: Violence, Blood and Gore, Gladiator Tournament, Physical Abuse.

Part One

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

I can’t breathe. The world spins in dizzying swirls around me. Mates.

Not one.

Not two.

Three!

All of them enemies of the Empire. Rebels scheduled for execution. Fate has always been a cruel bastard in all matters concerning me, but this feels like a personal attack on my existence. Someone in the Celestial Plain is laughing at this twisted attempt of a joke. How could I be so close to happiness and be forced to sit here and watch it be ripped from me one blood splatter at a time?

The Game Maker starts speaking again, his voice booming across the arena. I can’t make out any of the words; they’re all muddled together in my ears. This cannot be happening to me! It’s not fair! I’ve been the perfect daughter, even when it shattered me; I was a model student; I’ve upheld the law to the very letter; I make weekly sacrifices to the Mother; I built my own lararium to offer nightly prayers to the gods. I have been devought and loyal to both the gods and the Empire and this is the thanks I get?

I can’t tear my eyes away from where the three of them stand in the center of the Pit, waiting for the gates to open again. The violet eyed one, Rhysand-- gods even his name is pretty--won’t stop staring at my Father, challenging him to speak, to fight, to do something other than sit there like a coward while someone else kills for him. 

My Father must understand the challenge in that gaze, because he finally stands and goes to the edge of the booth, weathered hands splayed out against the worn stones bearing a flag with his crest embroidered upon it. “Citizens of the Empire!”

The crowd gives a raucous shout.

I simply scoot a little closer to Brannagh to be able to see around Father.

My movements do not break the silent battle happening with Rhysand, but it does draw the eye of Azriel, who’s bloodied head tilts to the side quizzically as he takes me in. I feel a blush creep its way up my cheeks, the booth suddenly too hot as I try to meet his gaze. That hazel gaze bears an intensity that keeps me in place, but I cannot help but feel like I’ve been stripped bare, as if he can see straight into my chest, where my heart still pounds an uneven beat. 

“Before you stands that which threatens our peace, our security, and most importantly the prosperity that our people hold so dear.”

The tall one, Cassian frowns at that, but Rhysand grins, as if he has won whatever silent battle he’s been having with my Father. He tips his head back and bellows, so that not a single soul here misses it, “There is no prosperity or peace in the Empire! There is only enslavement and death!”

The boos that had started coming from the crowd die, as if someone had collectively cut off their air supply. 

The muscles in my Father’s back tighten as he realizes what is happening.

“Outside these walls we all starve! Supplies to every corner of the Empire have dwindled to single bags of grain, meant only to feed the soldiers that terrorize us in every corner of the world. You do not hear from your families in the far reaches because your mail is censored. Your loved ones have been dragged from their beds and crucified without trial. The only prosperity in this Empire is for Hybern himself.”

I finally tear my gaze away from Azriel’s silent study to look at Amarantha for confirmation that it is true. 

“You should have slit his throat on the battlefield,” Dagdan snarls in her direction. 

The power seeping from my fingers tears a hole through my skirts, singing across my thighs. The errant strand only hidden by the way I keep the fabric bunched in my hands. I do not allow myself to wince against the sting and give myself away.

“Those were not my orders!” Amarantha snarls, her teeth flashing as she stands. Her slaves jump out of her way, cowering against each other for safety. “Your Highness, silence him before he incites a riot!”

No! No! No! This can’t be happening to me! Not again. It is like watching my Mother be taken away all over again. I had just stood there. Unable to cry or scream or fight. I could only watch. That was what she trained me to do. She had even nodded her approval to my stillness as they’d dragged her away, as if it had been right. None of it was right. None of this was right!

“Your Master will tell you pretty stories but we are all his slaves in the end. Illyria has had enough! We will not sit by and let our women and children starve! If that makes us rebels and traitors to the crown, so be it! But what would you do if it was your children in the streets? Your wives being carted off to service foreign elites? Your sons forced to kill and die for an Empire that can’t even feed you?” Rhysand screams.

My Father, silently, motions to one of his Praetorians, a crossbow already swinging from the clip at his back. 

The pounding of my heart in my ears will swallow me. Everything in the world slows and narrows into the motion of an arrow being fit into the crossbow.

Move! Move! Move! A dark ether of my power slithers up my wrists, catching Brannagh’s attention. She must make some snide remark about it, because I, distantly, see her lips move but no sound ever reaches my ears. I have to stop this. I have to do something!

I’m on my feet without conscious thought of what I’m doing. “Father, wait!” My hands reach for him, the sizzle of pain as my power skitters across his skin enough to make him turn and face me. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I’m saying, the words spew as if they have a mind of their own.

“If you kill him now like this you will incite a riot!”

His face twists, a snarl slipping past his clenched teeth. I have royally pissed him off, disgraced him here in front of his Inner Circle, where they watch from nearby booths. The thought would usually send me cowering like a dog with its tail between its legs, but the fear I feel for him is nothing against the fear I feel for them. The thing that links our souls together burns and rattles beneath my rib cage, needing to defend, to fight.

“Call off your guard!” I hiss, reaching out a hand and letting that dark power that lives inside me show. I’ll strike him dead if he so much as moves a finger towards the trigger. “Let us be diplomatic about this.”

“Who are you,” Father snarls, taking an advancing step towards me. The booth shakes as his own dark power rises to meet mine. “To challenge me, child?!”

I hold my ground, even though my body trembles. It is only the dutiful teachings of my Mother that keep my chin up instead of bowing it to my chest as every muscle screams for me to do. “I am not challenging you, I am trying to think about our people.”

I clench my fists again, dimming my power in feigned submission. “Go about this a different way. Show the people that ruthlessness is not always the answer to our nation’s problems.”

“Are you suggesting I spare an enemy?” Father snarls.

I honestly don’t know what my plan is here. I’m just throwing things against the wall and hoping something, anything, sticks, otherwise my only option is to fling myself down into the Pit and hope the power thrumming in my veins is enough to save my mates.

“No,” if I am to keep all of our heads, I must be crafty. I must play the games my Father plays. My gaze flicks to where Amarantha’s slaves remain huddled together, a desperate thought forming in my head. My stomach turns at the mere idea, but if it can save them…?

“You mean to entertain the people and quell all possible chances of further rebellion, but we have seen time and time again that no execution or crucifixion has done that. We merely make martyr after martyr. We encourage others to take up the cause.”

“Let them fight,” I’m going to be sick! It feels like there’s a knot forming in my chest. “And if they survive, let them live, let them be gladiators.” It’s unthinkable, it puts them in danger time and time again. “The betting will be astronomical. The people will return time and time again in hopes of seeing them fall. That money can provide support to the edges of the Empire. Prove him wrong by sending extra aid to those outside our walls.”

To his credit, my Father does listen to me ramble. The Mother has smiled on me for once, if he had been in one of his fits today he would have had Amarantha kill me where I stood. It is a miracle the Praetorian didn’t take me out for wielding so close to him in the first place.

 “And you would have them what? Live in the slave quarters where they can incite a riot with all the dregs?” Amarantha hisses.

I’ll lose him if I let her forked tongue keep whispering in his ear. I am not blind, I know that she has more favor with him than I ever have. “No. Leaving them free to whisper with the other gladiators would be a mistake. Let someone claim responsibility for them.” 

The plan forms in my mind as I speak. I don’t like it. I’m not sure that it’ll even work, but I have to try and save them. I cannot let them die while I stand here uselessly watching as I did with my Mother. I will never be useless or silent again. “Give them to me.”

Brannagh chokes on her wine behind me.

Amarantha’s jaw actually drops in shock.

“I will take responsibility for them. They will be monitored by my guard. To our people it will look  like you mean to humiliate three great warriors, by shackling them to me. It is no secret what our people think of me.”

Dagdan’s snort is proof enough how weak I look in the eyes of our people. I am nothing but a sheltered, pampered princess to them. Up until today they didn’t even know that I’d inherited my Father’s powers. Good, let them all think me weak and useless and meek, they will never know the claws and fangs that hide beneath my skin until it is too late. Father included.

“She is not strong enough to keep them in check,” Amarantha hisses. “If you are to do it, give them to me.”

I barely reign in my powers, barely keep my teeth behind my lips. They are mine and I will be damned before I let her put her grubby little paws on them! 

“You may monitor them as often or as random as you wish, Father,” I speak over her instead, fighting to keep his attention. “I will move back into the Palace. I will sit in every meeting. I…” There is one sure thing that will guarantee his approval of this awful plan of mine. “I will marry whoever you choose for me.”

His dark brows raise in surprise. “And what would prompt this sudden loyalty to me, child?”

I raise my chin. “I have sat too long in the dark, and I could not see it until…” I have already bartered my soul, what will some more empty words mean in the end? “I could not see it until you removed that traitor and her poisoned tongue from the house. I see it now. I have failed our people and I mean to make it right.”

He flicks his gaze over his shoulder, down into the Pit. “The gorsian stone should keep Rhysand in line. And with enough guards, you might be able to keep them locked up. If they should survive the fight.”

“Sometimes death is a mercy,” I say, the words tasting like bile. 

He takes a step closer, so we’re nearly nose to nose. “And if you fail to keep them in line, it will be you that dies in this arena, do you understand?”

Better me than them. 

“You cannot be serious, Your Highness!” Amarantha squeaks, her voice shrill.

I nod, trying not to gloat in my victory over her. “I understand.”

Father grins, pleased with himself as he snags my hand and brings me back into view of the arena. “Please forgive the delay, the Princess and I were just discussing what our guests had to say about the state of our Empire.”

I feel three sets of eyes settle on me like a brand. The bond, still so new and raw in my chest, feels like chains rattling against my ribcage. I cannot tell if it is their anxiety or my own. 

“Let it be known that this Empire is a democracy, and that I, as your Emperor, care about the state of affairs that all of our people live in.”

 I try to meet the gaze of the senators and highly decorated soldiers sitting in the booths that line the upper ring of the arena. These will be the most upset by the news. The next ring of wealthy merchants and shopkeepers, tradesmen and fleet keeps will be the ones that take what they hear here back to the streets. Word will spread. The people will know what happened here, how the Emperor suddenly decided to care about them. It will be a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I try to not look down at the Pit; try not to think about the life I’m condemning them to. 

“Our beloved Princess is very concerned about your well-being,” Father continues and there’s a collective cheer from the lower levels. “And so, we have decided not to execute these rebels today.”

The tone immediately shifts to one of confusion.

“They will compete as gladiators. Should they prove resourceful enough to survive, they will be branded as gladiators, and sponsored by our Princess.” Great, not only do they have to survive the damned arena, they have to survive any threats from other gladiators who will seek to take out well-sponsored competition. 

Even from our vantage point I hear Cassian curse in disbelief. 

“She has so graciously decided that all their winnings will be sent to any hurting corners of the Empire, should there be any to be found.”

The crowd takes a moment to process what he says. It even takes me a minute to comprehend the last part. He’d really send all the money that I’d earn as their sponsor to the poor? That’s a hefty bit of charity, even for him. There has to be some sort of catch?

“So, let these males fight! Let’s see how far they are willing to go for their people.”

There it is. They could choose to sit down and die in the arena, making themselves martyrs as Amarantha thinks they intended, and then, instead, they would look like they were not willing to make sacrifices for their people. If they fought, competed for whatever earnings were bet on them, then they would be heroes. A symbol of strength only the great Emperor Hybern could make. Father really is the best at these political games.

The crowd roars as trumpets blow three times.

Father motions me back to our seats.

“You don’t really think they can win, do you, cousin?” Dagdan questions.

The ground shakes as a giant strolls out of the tunnels. The creature is so large he has to bend over nearly double to fit. When he stands to his full height, his bald head is practically even with the edge of our booth. Terrible scars crisscross over his body like spiderwebs. Hybern went to war first with the land of Giants, the war had lasted decades. My Grandfather had taken many giants as slaves and forced them to kill each other in this arena. Some gladiators were able to earn their freedom, but the devastation that the Giants had wrought on our people made my Grandfather declare that no Giant could ever be made free. The poor creature had probably been chained here, fighting in the Pit long before I was even born.

“They survived Amarantha,” I retort.

The General bristles. “I thought you didn’t place bets on the first day?”

I reach for another glass of wine, trying to settle my nerves. “There’s a first time for everything.” Perhaps making an enemy out of her is unwise, but the bond chafes against my ribcage at the thought of her being anywhere near any of them. Better to keep her attention on me than on them. 

Another horn blows, prompting the giant to move and I hold my breath as he reaches a meaty hand down to grab one of the Illyrians. The males scatter, Cassian going into a roll between the Giant’s legs, using the blind spot to his advantage while Rhysand drags Azriel out of the way with an arm around his waist. He’s practically carrying Azriel now, who’s broken wings seem to be getting heavier by the minute. 

Cassian roars as he stretches out a hand, a wave of red tinted energy blasting from his palm. The arch or power slams into the Giant’s calf, blasting away a chunk of skin and muscle, splattering blood across the nearest wall. 

The Giant roars as he falls to one knee.

Cassian sprints behind him, out of reach of the hand that comes sweeping down at him. This time, he’s the distraction as Rhysand uses the hand not holding Azriel upright to unleash a blast of dark, obsidian power. 

My own magic flares in response. It is a darkness so like my own, the sight of it a siren call that has me leaning forward in my seat. If he can unleash a blast powerful enough to leave a gash across the Giant’s bare chest with those gorsian chains around his neck, how much damage can he do without it?

The Giant’s cries of pain echo throughout the amphitheater; using the distraction, Cassian continues to blast away at it’s leg while Rhys throws blow after blow at it’s chest. They fair far better than I anticipated they would, but I know better than to let hope get the better of me. It is far too easily ripped away in this arena. 

As if on cue, the gates open again and a pack of wargs come sprinting into the arena.

The crowd erupts in cheers, and my heart once again thunders in my chest. What have I done? It takes all my training to not start chewing on my thumbnail. How am I supposed to save them from this?

Amarantha claps gleefully as one of the wargs breaks away from the pack to lunge straight for Azriel’s throat. 

No! No! No- Azriel raises a scarred hand to blast the beast backward with a wave of blue tinted magic. There isn’t enough time to sigh in relief, not as the rest of the pack splits in two, one circling Rhysand and Azriel, the other taking a shot at the Giant. Those rows of razor sharp and needle thin teeth sink into the Giant’s already bleeding leg, momentarily distracting it as it swings wildly around the arena, arms pinwheeling as it fights to balance on one leg while the other flails in an attempt to shake the beasts off. 

“They’re not supposed to attack the Giant!” Brannagh whines. 

I gulp down my wine, hoping it will push the wave of nausea that rolls through me down. I’ve signed their death warrants. I’ve gotten my mates killed. 

Cassian, in the chaos, has managed to find half of a spear, the blade rusted from the recent rain, but he hurls it with acute precision nonetheless, piercing through the oddly shaped skull of a warg snapping at Azriel’s wings. 

Rhysand and Azriel have moved to stand back to back, their varying shades of magic weaving between their fingers as they prepare to strike the snapping beasts that circle them. 

The Giant topples over as the three wargs held tight to it’s wounded calf find a nerve. There’s not enough room in the arena to let him fall without incident. The poor creature topples right into the wall opposite us, knocking away a section of stone and nearly dragging a Senator and his mistress into the Pit.

The Praetorians launch from our booth to aid the screaming couple.

It might have been funny under different circumstances, but I cannot peel my eyes away from my mates as the blast beast after beast away with their magic. Even wounded, even stunted by the chains, they are the most powerful wielders I’ve ever seen. Even if Cassian’s and Azriel’s magic sprays with less precision than usual without the siphons Illyrians are known for, every blow is calculated. They do not miss. Warg after warg falls, their leathery skin blistered or blasted away from multiple blows. Even wounded, the males remain in perfect sync, filling in any gaps the other might lack. They manage to kill five of the eight beasts, the other three still mercilessly tearing through the Giant’s leg, even as the guards try to push him off the wall.

Brannagh laughs at the tears that fall from the Giant’s eyes as he swats uselessly at the beasts. No matter how many times his massive fists slams against them, they will not let go. His blood runs like a river through the center of the Pit.

Many of the crowd laugh too.

These are my people? This is what I am to inherit? This misery and suffering and apathy towards the suffering of others? We are monsters!

As soon as I can get my mates out of this godsforsaken Pit, I will find a way to get them far, far away from this place, where it can never hurt them again. And then, when I know they are safe, I will make sure that this place burns.

Rhysand seems to take pity on his opponent, as he steps away from Azriel’s back to blast one of the remaining wargs off the Giant’s calf. From the distance across the arena, the blow is not a killing one, and aggravated, the warg turns its attack to Rhysand.

My breath hitches in my throat as he lowers himself into a crouch, hands splaying in the damp earth. There is a sword a couple feet from him, if he runs, he might make it there first. But he doesn’t run, he waits until the beast gets close before hurling dust in it’s eyes. While it’s distracted, a rope of star studded magic unfurls from his palm and wraps around the beast’s throat. Instead of killing it, he hurls it back at the others, knocking all of them free from the Giant’s leg.

The crowd boos.

My heart clenches in my chest. He could have let them end this fight now, could have let those beasts tear clean through the Giant’s leg and won by default, but he didn’t. He chose to fight fair, to do the dirty work himself.

The three beasts turn on him as he sprints for the sword. There’s just enough time for him to get a firm grip on the hilt before the first lunges, its claws tearing through his forearm as he fights to get the angle he needs to win. Blood splatters, those handsome features twisting in pain as he adjusts his stance. Cassian runs towards him, but he won’t make it in time. 

There’s no more wine to distract me, I’ve fully bitten through my lip now. Please if there are any gods left to hear me, don’t let him die here!

Rhysand moves with the grace of a well-practiced swordsman, each step flowing into the next like a dance as he cleaves through one beast's head, and severs the paw of a second. In mere seconds, he manages to dispatch the rest, leaving the mangled bodies at his feet. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and under different circumstances I might have been too distracted by his beauty to notice the Giant move. 

Rhysand might have been the better male, but that didn’t save him from the Giant’s hand as it swatted him across the battlefield like he was a pesky fly. I bite deeper through my lip to keep back a scream as his body bounces across the muddy floor until he meets a wall. 

Cassian and Azriel roar in outrage and the tether that sits in my chest rattles so hard against my rib cage I think it might rip right out of me. This can’t be happening!

The Giant rises on shaking legs, then falls back onto its knees, using its meaty fists to bash against the arena floor, in what looks like the world’s deadliest game of Whack-A-Mole. Red and blue magic flashes across the arena as the Illyrian’s throw blow after blow, leaving bleeding gashes in the Giant’s fist. Across the arena, Rhysand rolls onto his back, forehead covered in blood as he struggles to get upright. He’s alive at least. Barely. But alive.

I vow to the Mother and any other god that can hear me that if they survive the fight I will find somewhere safe for them. I will do whatever it takes to keep them out of this arena for good. 

“They are persistent, I’ll give them that,” Dagdan muses. 

I feel rather than see my Father’s frown as he takes in all the chaos with the experience of a seasoned strategist. I know that he is calculating their odds, mapping out every possible outcome. I wonder if Cassian launching into the air, wings beating so hard to get him airborne that I feel a gust of hot air on my face, was part of his calculations? If he could have foreseen the blast of energy Cassian’s hurls into the Giant’s eyes, blinding him?

The Giant abandons his attempts at smashing them to grab at his eyes, large hands clawing at his sizzling flesh. The whole arena can smell burnt skin, but Cassian doesn’t let up, he aims blow after blow at the Giant’s head, until he finally falls over backwards, neck slamming hard against the already broken stone.

I look away, stomach in my throat as the resounding crack fills the amphitheater. 

The crowd roars in disbelief as Cassian tucks in his wings and descends back into the Pit. He hits the ground running, footfalls heavy in the mud as he rushes to Rhysand’s side. Azriel is not far behind him. With their combined strength, they manage to get Rhysand back on his feet. 

I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake. They’re alive!

Father stands and makes his way to the edge of the booth again. “For whatever reason, the Goddess has smiled upon you three today! Today, you will live. Let us hope you remain in Her favor.” He doesn’t sound super thrilled by the prospect as he turns his back to the crowd, slate gray eyes pinched as they fall to me.

“Walk with me.”

I stand, trying to keep my singed skirts in my hands so he cannot see the damage I’d done. Or the blood from my palms. If he suspects I was at all nervous for the outcome, I could ruin everything. I must keep my composure.

And not run down the stairs to the gates and throw myself at my mates like every fiber of my being screams at me to do. 

The guards follow as we exit the booth. In moments there will be chaos as beings scatter to find the Games Keepers and collect their winnings, or pay their debts, but for a moment, the crowd lingers in their seats, watching as the Illyrians are led out of the Pit.

“You embarrassed us today,” he hisses once we’re out of Amarantha’s earshot. The anger in his tone is enough to make me try and take a step away from him, but he throws an arm around my shoulders to keep me against his side. To any onlookers, we are just father and daughter having a chat. His voice is low enough that no one will hear the threats he hisses in my ear.

“You hide away in the River House for months, mourning a traitor who was plotting to overthrow me and now you make a spectacle of yourself! I should have you cast out into the streets!”

My only way out is to placate him. “I am sorry, Father.”

“Sorry,” he snarls, fingers digging tight enough into my shoulder to bruise. “Your apologies mean nothing! I swear, if you do not do everything you promised to do today, I will throw you into this arena! And I will use your own advice to keep you alive long enough to ensure you have a couple matches to prolong your suffering.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I meant what I said, Father.” Mostly. Perhaps I can secure passage for all of us out of here and we never have to think about the Empire again. The more I think about it, the more pleased I am with the idea. Yes, I just need to make it look like I am taking them as slaves, and once we’re out from the watchful eye of my Father, we can all run far, far away. Maybe I am more clever than I thought.

He leads us down the steps to a door that will eventually lead us to the gladiator cages and a guard swings open the heavy iron for us. Once we’re out from under the eye of the people, the rough stone walls closing in tight--a means to ensure none of the larger gladiators can make a run for the door and escape--he releases his grip on me. 

Torches line the walls casting his face in near shadow as he pauses at the bottom of a second, smaller, set of stairs. I shiver despite myself as the door slams shut, sealing me in. I suppose at this point I should be prepared, but I’m not, and when his open hand slams across my cheek I lose my balance and slip down the last two steps of the staircase. 

“Don’t ever question me again!” He hisses.

The guards pretend to not notice, as they always have.

I grit my teeth against the ringing in my ears, against the hot tears that threaten to escape me, focusing instead on carefully getting back on my feet. Stay down too long he’ll kick in my ribs like he used to when I was a child. Get up too fast and he’ll assume he hadn’t hit me hard enough. I put over emphasis into finding a handhold in the wall, making sure I keep my stinging cheek against my shoulder. The tremor in my hands is not feigned fear, I’ve been terrified of him my entire life, but I do exaggerate it just as my Mother taught me. 

“Spoiled brat!” He grumbles as he stalks forward into the tunnel. “I coddled you too much.”

I glare at his back once I’m sure he’s no longer looking at me. I hate him! I’ve hated him my entire fucking life. He’s ruined everything. Taken everything from me. Everything I’d ever loved he’d wiped off the face of the earth, all because I had the misfortune of being a female. All because he couldn’t have a precious son.

I grit my teeth so hard they hurt as I brush my skirts off and follow after him. I will be glad when I am finally out of his sight. Far, far away from this stupid Empire. At least I have mates; someone out in this Mother forsaken world who will care about me; who won’t hate me just for existing. At least there is one thing he can’t ruin for me.

I am too distracted with my thoughts to note the paths we take. I distantly hear the sound of injured men groaning, catch a whiff of filth and animal waste, but it’s all a blur. This will all be a bad dream soon. Soon I will have my mates and I will never have to deal with him again. I can be happy. I will be happy.

By the time he finally stops walking, I’ve schooled my features into a perfect mask; have brushed a few loose strands of hair in front of my face to hide the red mark across my cheek. He will suspect nothing until it is too late. Then he can have his precious Empire. It will be the only thing left he can control.

A guard opens what looks like a cage door, the iron old and rusted, and the guards that have been trailing behind us step in first.

“Against the wall!” They bark. 

There’s no light in the cell, just the flickering of the torch on the wall behind us. I don’t know what to expect.

“Fuck you, Imperial Pig!” Cassian.

I bite my tongue to keep back the grin that threatens to escape me, my mask slipping. He’s not so hurt that he can’t put up a fight. The thought warms something in my chest. Headstrong, stubborn, if the sound of scuffling coming from inside the dark cell is anything to go by, and sarcastic--everything I need to counter my reserved nature. I need that energy. I need him. The surety of that makes me square my shoulders. 

“Easy, Cass.” Rhysand. His voice is smooth as silk, even if the words are a little slurred. “We don’t want trouble.”

“The fuck we don’t!” Cassian shouts. “I’m no one’s fucking pet!”

The guard at the door, once sure the others inside are secure, steps away to grab the torch off its perch in the hallway, and sets it into an old rung on the inside of the cell, bathing the room in its soft glow. 

Father steps in first.

For a moment, I hesitate, heart in my throat. I need them. I need that strength I saw in the arena. Need that fire Cassian spews. The surety that Rhysand carries himself with. I need them. And if I show any sign of that, they're dead.

The guard, now back at the door, eyes me quizzically.

I draw a shaky breath and school my features back into a perfectly bored mask. 

I can do this.

I will do this.

I won’t let Hybern take anything else from me, no matter the games I have to play. 

I tell it to myself over and over as I step into the cell.

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

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe, @krowiathemythologynerd,

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! =)

[hughiecampbelle]

Supe Preference: How They Propose

Requested: I know you already did a preference with how they propose but please please please do this with the supes! I think it would be amazing. thank you thank you thank you ♥️♥️♥️ - anon

A/N: I hope you like it my love!!! This was so fun to write, I love exploring their characters!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💕

Homelander makes sure he's got a crowd with his supporters when he pulls out a ring and gets on one knee, asking you to marry him. There are cameras and reporters there, too. They will run stories about the most powerful man in the world finding his one true love, the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, the faulter in his voice when he asks you. Everyone who saw it for themselves says it was the most romantic speech they've ever heard. This will do great for his public support and image. His fans are all about traditional values. Homelander staying a bachelor makes his fans antsy, nervous, like he can't settle down. Now he's doing that. You, John, and Ryan will be the perfect little family. An instant family, actually. People cheer and whistle and cry. You say yes, because there is no other choice. And you hug and kiss, and he directs you were to look and what questions to answer like when the wedding will be or the color palette you'll choose. He makes jokes and quips that everyone laughs at.

The Deep asks you to marry him on television. You were placed together because you have fantastic ratings, and he could use a little boost in the public eye. You haven't been "dating" for very long but, as he puts it in his speech, he doesn't need to have known you for a long time to know that you're the one for him. You smile, and even she'd a few tears before putting the ring on and kissing him. You're not actually getting married, at least not legally, but Ashley already has color swatches and flowers and venues. It'll be the wedding of the century. You make sure, behind closed doors, he doesn't get the wrong idea. You put on a good act. You're smart and stunning, and you could have any Supe you want. When the inevitable divorce happens, you'll come out the better for it. Interviews, book deals, and talk shows. You'll ruin him. You just have to get through the next few months without any hiccups. You have to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or vulgar. That, in itself, is a full-time job. You talk through grit teeth in your smile, telling him not to fuck this up for you.

A-Train does it out of desperation. You and Reggie were high school sweethearts. You were together when he was let in the The Seven, and you've stayed with him through every bump in the road. When things with Homelander get really tough, really scary, Reggie pops the question. It's not the most romantic drive for the proposal, but if anything ever happened to him because of Vought and Homelander he wants you to have access to everything he'd leave behind. All the money, the deals, everything. You can only get that through marriage. He loves you, he's loved you forever, but he does this not solely out of love. He can't. This decision is too big and has too much weight. He has to protect you, to save you from what he's had to deal with. You don't know any of this about the engagement though, so you say yes, proclaiming it one of the happiest days of your life. You understand some of the tension, but Reggies too afraid to go into detail. You'd worry too much. He can't do that to you.

Maeve blurts it out during a fight. You're tired of being hidden. You're tired of keeping things so low-key, rescheduling because she has to go play house with Homelander. You're both yelling at one another when she asks you if you want to marry her. Of course you do, you say, angry that she would think anything different. Then let's get married, she yells. Fine! She storms off into the linen closet where the small box sits between two towels. You hated them and said they were too scratchy. You never would have looked there. She hands it to you, and when you open it, you're speechless. You always said things about jewelery in passing: silver or gold, the cuts you like, the gems if diamonds aren't your thing. You're angry and then you're not. It's a lot to think about (knowing you and Maggie could never go public, it would put you and her in far too much danger) and yet, the answer is so clear. Yes. Yes you want to spend the rest of your life with her. That's all you've ever wanted.

Firecracker asks you live on her show. You always knew she'd want to include her fans. They're a big part of her life, her popularity, and a huge reason why she's even part of The Seven. Her audience has heard stories about you from the beginning. They heard all about your first date, how cute she thought you were. It's only right they be included in this. So, under the idea that you're doing an interview about being in a relationship with one of The Seven members, you agree. When she asks you, you're speechless. Everyone is cheering and whistling. Of course it's a yes! That episode of her show goes pretty viral. Some of her fans are upset and turn on her, but for the most part they're all happy you're now engaged. Ashley is happy, too. Misty's ratings haven't been great as of late, but this stunt makes her a fan favorite all over again. Her audience agrees with the traditional values of marriage, family, etc.

Soldier Boy always wanted to get married, settle down with a white pickett fence, and a couple of kids. He certainly thought it would have been sooner than this, but he's still young, and he wouldn't have found you if everything hadn't happened. Still, it's been on his mind. He sees you with him in that house, with those kids. There's one thing to be grateful for out of all this. Ben isn't a huge romantic. You're not expecting rose petals and candles. Instead, he rolls over in bed one lazy morning and pops the question. You think he's joking, saying that's not funny when it's something you wanted forever. He's serious, though. He's got the ring and everything. It takes you a minute to realize this is all real. Of course, you say yes! When you do, he attacks you in kisses, grinning from ear to ear. You go out and celebrate, drinking until the room spins, telling anyone who will listen that you're getting married.

Sister Sage comes to you with a list of pros and cons. Some are big, like the commitment of marriage and the issues behind the traditional values. Others are relatively small to you, like the number of books she'd bring with her when you got a place together. You and Sage have been together a long time. You know she has thousands of books, you know she's thoughtful about everything except her own messiness, her own chaos. It's up to you to decide. She leaves her list with you, but before she can step through the door you're already saying yes, explaining your feelings about the whole situation. You love her. You know she has faults, God knows you have yours. And she still loves you not despite them, but because of them. She wasn't really expecting you to say yes, at least so immediately, so you'll have to wait on the ring. It was the easiest yes of your life.

[latenightreadingpdf]

Hidden in Plain Sight (3) - Dave Lizewski

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊ ☽◯☾ ₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 1 ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Part 2 ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: When Y/S/N saves Kick-Ass from a dangerous situation, he becomes obsessed with trying to uncover her true identity. Little does he know, Y/S/N is a girl from his school who secretly has a crush on him as well. As they patrol together, their worlds collide in ways neither expected, leading to a surprising revelation about who's really behind the mask.

Y/S/N - Your superhero name

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Y/N strolled through the neighborhood, her mind buzzing with ways to tease Dave. She was endlessly entertained by how adorably flustered he got under that mask—especially when she pushed the limits, gushing over him like he wasn’t the same guy beside her, trying desperately to stay composed. She knew he tried to be respectful, but she often caught him sneaking glances at her chest, and every time she called him out on it, he’d blush furiously under the mask.

Lost in her thoughts, she was pulled back to reality by a quiet cough from behind. Turning, she saw Kick-Ass himself standing there, adjusting his mask nervously.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to show up,” she teased.

“I–uh, sorry I’m late,” he replied, still slightly out of breath.

She smirked, nudging him lightly as they began walking. “Oh, don’t worry about it! I just wanted to tell you all about Dave. I finally talked to him yesterday, and it went so well! I asked him to tutor me in calc, and he said yes. Now we’re going to spend all this time together.” She glanced at him, watching his hands start to fidget as she kept going. “I’m just worried, you know? I’ll be trying to learn, but I don’t think I can focus when he’s around. God, he’s so hot. And those hands…” She trailed off dreamily. “I always wonder what they’d feel like on my—”

Suddenly, Kick-Ass stumbled over his own feet, nearly tripping into the street. Y/N pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud, but she couldn’t stop herself entirely.

“Sorry,” she giggled. “I know I’m rambling. What about you? Got anything spicy going on in your love life?”

Kick-Ass cleared his throat, clearly flustered. “Uh, yeah. It’s, um… good.”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, you have to give me more than that! I’m basically pouring my heart out here, and I get ‘yeah, it’s good’? Spill!”

“Okay, okay, fine,” he relented, clearly trying to think of a way to answer without giving too much away. “There’s this girl, and she’s—”

CRASH.

Oh thank god, Dave thought.

A loud noise cut him off, followed by shouting around the corner. Instinctively, he snapped to attention. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, as the two of them took off, sprinting towards the sound to see how they could help.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The next day, both Dave and Y/N stepped up their game a bit. Dave put extra effort into picking a shirt that didn’t smell like his closet floor, even making sure his hair didn’t look like he’d just rolled out of bed. Meanwhile, Y/N chose a lower-cut shirt and wore that perfume she knew drove him crazy, adding just a hint more makeup for that extra polished look.

As calculus neared, Dave practically power-walked to the classroom, heart pounding, and took his seat, eyes glued to the door. When Y/N entered, she caught his gaze, offering a warm smile and a wave.

“Hey, Dave,” she greeted, walking up to his desk. “Are you still free to tutor me after school?”

“Of course!” he replied, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but she just smiled, and he watched as she headed to her seat.

For the rest of the day, Dave’s mind was nowhere near his classes. The only thing that seemed to register in his brain was the thought of his upcoming study session with Y/N.

When the final bell rang, Dave wasted no time heading to the library. Halfway there, his phone buzzed with a text:

Y/N: At the table near the back of the library :)

He found her easily, smiling as she waved him over. “Hey, Y/N. Are you ready to start?” he asked, taking the seat beside her.

“Yup! I was hoping we could go over the first unit,” she replied. “I think missing that might be why everything else isn’t making sense.”

“Sure, let’s start there,” he said, pulling out his textbook. He walked her through some basic concepts, then pulled out a sheet of paper to work through a few examples. As he began writing, Y/N scooted her chair closer to get a better view, leaning in, and he felt his mind go blank for a second.

“Uh, so, um,” he stuttered, nearly forgetting what he was supposed to be teaching.

With every example, Y/N seemed to get closer, her shoulder brushing his every so often, her perfume making it impossible for him to concentrate. By the end of the session, Dave was practically melting, trying to keep his focus.

“Thanks so much,” Y/N said as they stood up, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “You’re a great teacher, Dave.”

He barely managed to stammer out a reply, feeling like he’d floated to another dimension. As they walked toward the library doors, she mentioned she was planning to walk home.

Dave felt a surge of courage. “I could, um, walk you home if you want?”

She smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”

The walk was relaxed, conversation flowing easily. They talked about comics, giving each other recommendations, Dave told stupid stories about Todd and Marty, Y/N talked about a party she went to, and just learned more about each other. Every minute of it felt more natural than anything he’d experienced, like the superhero masks weren’t necessary anymore.

When they finally reached her house, Y/N turned to him, eyes warm. “Thanks for walking me home, Dave. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nodded, practically grinning from ear to ear. “Definitely. See you.”

As he walked back to his own house, he couldn’t stop smiling, mind whirling with every little moment he’d just spent with her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Between superhero patrols and calculus tutoring, Y/N and Dave had been seeing a lot of each other lately. They texted all the time, and Dave had been noticing her texts popping up at any time of day, which made him grin even at the simplest “Hey, what’s up?”

Saturday afternoon brought him a new message:

Y/N: Dave, pleeease save me! I’m so boooored. :( Dave: I’m about to walk to Atomic Comics to meet Todd and Marty. Wanna hang out with us? Y/N: YES, THANK YOU. Dave: I’ll stop by your place on my way.

He set off for her place, nerves jangling. As she joined him on the walk to the store, he tried to keep his cool but couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “Just a heads-up: my friends are, uh… really weird.”

She laughed, nudging his arm. “They can’t be that weird. I bet they’re just like you—maybe a little shy.”

Dave only chuckled in response, inwardly wincing at how little she knew about Todd and Marty’s lack of social skills.

They slid into a booth across from Todd and Marty, who were already seated. As Dave introduced Y/N, both of his friends seemed frozen, eyes wide, staring at her like she was from another planet. Five silent, awkward seconds passed.

“Guys… Really?” Dave whispered, giving them each a nudge under the table. “Don’t act so… I don’t know… weird?”

That seemed to do the trick. Todd cleared his throat and muttered a barely audible “Hi,” while Marty attempted a smile and a wave.

Y/N just smiled back, unphased, and Dave jumped into conversation about a new Spider-Man x Wolverine crossover he’d been obsessed with lately. As he pulled the comic out from his bag, Y/N scooted closer to look, her shoulder pressing against his. Dave tried to keep his focus on the comic’s cover, but it was hard with her so close, leaning over to see. He felt his face flush and prayed that Todd and Marty wouldn’t say anything embarrassing.

From across the table, they exchanged looks, clearly unable to believe that Dave was sitting that close to Y/N.

Eventually, Dave got up to go to the bathroom, leaving Y/N with his friends. She looked across at them with a smile. “So, guys, I’ve gotta know—what are the best comics here? I’m kind of new to this whole thing.”

The question seemed to break through the last of Todd and Marty’s reservations. Todd’s eyes lit up, and he immediately launched into an enthusiastic explanation of his favorite series, going so far as to pull up comic covers on his phone and explaining key plot points. Marty joined in, pointing out his personal favorites on a nearby rack.

Y/N listened, nodding along and laughing at their side tangents. It didn’t take long before she was laughing along with them, chiming in with questions and responding to their recommendations with genuine curiosity. Soon, Todd was leading her around the store, showing her the most underrated comics and detailing why certain storylines were, in his words, “the best character arcs of all time.”

By the time Dave came back, Y/N was chatting with them comfortably. “So, okay, this whole series is a must-read,” she was saying, holding up a copy of Saga that Todd had practically forced into her hands. “Where should I start?”

“Volume one!” Marty and Todd chorused. Todd gave her a detailed breakdown of how she could get up to speed in no time.

Dave sat down, unable to keep from smiling at the way she fit in with his friends. “Making converts?” he asked with a grin.

“Oh, totally,” Y/N said, scooting back beside him. “I’m basically a comic expert now.”

The four of them ended up lingering at the shop, laughing over various comics and obscure references, until the store started dimming its lights to close up. When they got up to leave, Dave offered to walk Y/N home.

They talked the whole way, chatting about the evening, laughing about Todd and Marty’s passion for comics, and revisiting her new reading list.

“Your friends are funny,” Y/N said as they stopped at her door, smiling.

He laughed. “Funny? That’s new. Usually, they’re terrible.”

She laughed too, eyes twinkling, and then, without warning, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, Dave.”

For a moment, he just stood there, his cheeks tingling where her lips had brushed his skin. “Uh—goodnight,” he managed weakly as she turned and slipped inside.

Walking home, his head was all fuzzy. As excited as he was about how close he and Y/N were getting, there was that nagging thought in the back of his mind—could he really get close to her without ever telling her he was Kick-Ass? It made him wonder if he could ever have a real chance with her if he kept hiding half his life.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

After school one day, Dave was hanging out at Atomic Comics, flipping through the latest issues with Todd and Marty, when he heard the bell above the door chime. He glanced up from his comic just in time to see Y/N practically sprinting into the store, her face lit up with excitement. She beelined straight toward him, holding up a crinkled piece of paper with a big red “92%” circled at the top.

“Dave!” she almost shouted, her grin so wide it looked like her face might split in two. “Look! 92! I got a 92 on my calculus test!” Before he knew what was happening, she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said, her words muffled but still bursting with enthusiasm.

Dave’s brain went into overdrive, his senses zeroing in on the warmth of her arms around him, her hair brushing against his cheek, and the soft, citrusy scent of her perfume. Somehow, he managed to wrap his arms around her, gently squeezing her back.

“I knew you could do it,” he murmured, grinning ear to ear.

When she finally pulled back, her hands still rested on his shoulders. She looked up at him, eyes gleaming with excitement. “We have to celebrate. You should come over tonight. We’ll watch a movie, and I’ll buy a ton of your favorite snacks. What do you say?”

Dave’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure she could hear it. “Uh… yeah, sure,” he stammered, doing his best to sound casual, though the idea of spending an evening alone with her made him feel anything but.

“Great!” she said, her smile widening even more—if that was possible. With a final wave, she turned and headed for the door, throwing a quick “Bye, guys!” over her shoulder to Todd and Marty.

The door closed, and the three of them watched her leave, stunned into silence. Todd was the first to break it. He nudged Dave with his elbow, eyes wide. “Dude,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. “This is it. Tonight’s the perfect night to tell her how you feel. You’ve gotta do it!”

Marty nodded enthusiastically, his expression a mix of excitement and impatience. “Seriously, man. She invited you over for a movie night. She wants to celebrate with you. You can’t just ignore that!”

Dave looked between his two friends, his excitement battling with nerves. “You think so?” he asked, even though he could barely contain his own excitement at the thought.

Todd clapped him on the back. “You’ve got this, Dave. Just be honest with her.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Dave thought he might actually pass out.

As soon as you opened the door, he had to fight to keep his mouth from hanging open—you were in the cutest pair of fluffy pajama pants and a tiny tank top that showed just a hint of midriff. It was unfair, honestly. Before he could even fully process it, you grabbed his arm, and with a warm smile, pulled him inside, leading him up the stairs and straight to your room.

Walking into your room felt like stepping into another world, one that was undeniably and entirely you. Posters lined the walls, your desk was organized in a way that was both chaotic and charming, and there were little knick-knacks on your shelves that seemed to tell a story all their own. It was exactly how he’d imagined it… Not that he imagined your room or anything like that. That would be weird, right? Totally weird. Totally not him. He definitely did not imagine your room all the time… though, looking around, it was kind of uncanny how close he’d gotten it.

"Go ahead and get comfortable! I’m just grabbing more candy from the kitchen," you said, heading out the door.

He nodded, sitting on the edge of your bed, still taking everything in. Then he noticed a plush bunny sitting at the top of your pillow. Grinning, he reached over and picked it up, giving it a little squeeze, admiring its big, floppy ears. He was caught red-handed when you came back, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw you laughing at him.

“Oh my god, you’re one of those people, huh?” he teased, holding the bunny up like a prized possession.

You put a hand on your hip, rolling your eyes playfully. “Yes, I am, and it’s cute, okay?”

He chuckled, flipping the bunny around in his hands. “What’s his name?”

You groaned, blushing. “Come on, Dave… do you really need to know?”

He put on a serious face, hugging the bunny dramatically. “Absolutely. His name is—”

You bit back a smile, rolling your eyes. “… it’s Mr. Floppy.”

He choked back a laugh. “Mr. Floppy? Well Mr. Floppy is my new best friend now.”

“Oh no, how will I ever survive,” you replied in a mockingly dramatic tone, unable to hide your grin. Within seconds, the two of you broke out in a fit of laughter, your voices mingling in a way that made your room feel like the safest, happiest place in the world.

Settling down, you handed him a bowl of candy and flopped onto the bed next to him, pulling up the movie. As it started, you shifted closer, so much so that Dave could feel the warmth radiating from you. By the time you were twenty minutes in, you were nestled against his chest, his arm resting around you almost instinctively. He didn’t dare move—this was the closest he’d ever been to you, and he could feel his heart racing, every nerve on edge. Every thirty seconds or so, he couldn’t help himself; he’d glance down at you, admiring the way the glow from the screen softened your features.

After a while, you must’ve felt him looking at you because you shifted, turning to meet his eyes. The two of you were so close that your breaths mingled, and the tension between you was thick enough to cut. In a quiet voice, you tilted your head and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Dave swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Nothing, it’s just… you look really pretty.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you offered a shy smile, thanking him softly as you continued to gaze into his eyes. The movie was entirely forgotten now.

“Y/N, I… uh, I really like you,” he stammered, finally gathering the courage to say what he’d been holding back. “You’re so smart, beautiful, and… way out of my league, but I can’t help it. I really want to be more than friends.”

For a moment, you simply looked at him, and his heart felt like it might stop entirely. “Say something… please,” he whispered, his voice laced with nervousness.

Finally, a smile spread across your face, and with a glance down at his lips, you leaned in, closing the gap with a gentle, sweet kiss. When you pulled back, you whispered, “I like you too, Dave.”

A grin broke across his face, and he could hardly believe this was happening. “Can I… can I kiss you again?” he asked, breathless, as if he were asking permission for a once-in-a-lifetime privilege.

Laughing softly, you replied, “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

This time, he kissed you deeper, pouring every ounce of his feelings into it, savoring every second. The kiss grew more passionate, and his heart pounded in his chest, but when you finally pulled back, he couldn’t help but let out a soft, disappointed whine, not wanting the moment to end.

You bit your lip, an amused smile on your face. “I actually have something to confess, too,” you said, your voice softer now.

Sitting up straighter, he looked at you with wide eyes, a slight furrow in his brow. “What is it?”

You took a breath, meeting his gaze. “I know you’re Kick-Ass.”

For a moment, he froze, his mind scrambling. “W-What?” he spluttered, immediately trying to backtrack. “I—Kick-Ass? No, that’s—that’s not me! I’m, uh—”

You held up a hand to stop him, laughing softly. “And I know you know that I’m Y/S/N.”

His eyes widened even further, and he seemed completely thrown off. “But… you always talked about ‘Dave’ to me when we were out, you know, fighting crime together. I thought… I thought I had you fooled.”

You shrugged, grinning. “I just liked teasing you. It was… kind of adorable to see you get all flustered.”

“Oh,” he breathed, the realization dawning on him as his face flushed a deep red. He couldn’t help but laugh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. The two of you settled back into the bed, and a grin spread across his face as a new thought occurred to him.

“Just think about it, though—we’d make the most amazing superhero couple ever,” he said, his voice bubbling with excitement at the idea. “Kick-Ass and Y/S/N, taking down bad guys together? We’d be unstoppable!”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow as you poked his chest. “Not so fast, Kick-Ass. Before we start planning our crime-fighting future, you’ve gotta take me on a proper date first.”

He grinned sheepishly, nodding as he took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Right. Totally. Consider it done.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

A/N ~ and that concludes this story! thank you all for reading <3 I’ll probably go back through this another time and edit it a bit. If anyone has any Kick-ass fic recs or ideas please send them my way pretty please :)))

[awkward-walking-potato]

Heyo! I love how you write stories with Logan with animals because they’re so beautiful!! I was wondering if you’d write another one please? The reader is a shy mutant with nature powers (grow all kinds of flora, manipulate the elements, live harmonious with any kind of animal), she’s basically like Mother Nature. She has a big secret place where she often goes to. She created it to keep all kind of creatures save from humans and mutants, especially exotic ones, and are very dear to her. He tried to follow her once, but others cannot find the place except for her or if she allows them in. One day, she wants to show it to him and have him meet her family and one of her oldest family members, a gigantic dragon. The dragon is quite intelligent and doesn’t seem impressed nor does he seem to like Logan and constantly tries to kindly kill him/play pranks on him whenever she’s not looking (e.g. pushing him into a pool of mud, taking up all her attention for him, etc.). You can also add Wade to the story if you want to. Thank you so so much and hope you’ve a beautiful day!! 💙

The hidden Sanctuary

Wolverine had always been a lone wolf. Even as part of the X-Men, he kept to himself, preferred the company of silence, and embraced the solace of solitude. But there was something about Y/N that intrigued him. Maybe it was her shyness or the way she melted into the background, rarely speaking unless spoken to, or perhaps it was the powerful, almost mystical energy that seemed to ripple off her in waves whenever she was around nature. Whatever it was, Logan found himself drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Y/N was a mutant with powers unlike any he’d seen before. She could grow entire forests with a wave of her hand, manipulate the elements like it was second nature, and animals of all kinds flocked to her as if she were Mother Nature herself. Logan had seen her turn a desolate wasteland into a thriving ecosystem in seconds, and yet, she remained so modest about her abilities.

He had tried to follow her once when she snuck out of the mansion, curious as to where she went when she thought no one was watching. But no matter how closely he trailed her, she always managed to lose him, disappearing into the forest like a whisper on the wind.

Eventually, he let it go. If she wanted to keep her secrets, he wouldn’t pry… too much. But the more time they spent together, the more Logan found himself wanting to know everything about her. He wanted to protect her, keep her safe, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he wanted her to trust him enough to let him in.

One evening, as they sat on the mansion’s roof, watching the sunset, she turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of anxiety and excitement. “Logan, I… I want to show you something. It’s important to me, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, surprised by her sudden openness. “You know you can trust me, darlin’. I won’t say a word.”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Okay… follow me.”

The journey was long and winding. They traveled deep into the forest, far from the mansion and any sign of civilization. The trees grew denser, the air richer with the scent of pine and earth. Logan stayed close, his senses on high alert, but Y/N moved with a confidence that made him feel oddly at ease.

After what felt like hours, she stopped in front of a large, ancient tree with sprawling roots. She placed a hand on the bark and whispered something he couldn’t make out. To Logan’s astonishment, the tree seemed to shimmer before it slowly began to part, revealing a hidden pathway bathed in golden light.

“This way,” she said softly, taking his hand and leading him through the opening.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as they stepped into a paradise beyond imagination. It was a hidden sanctuary, a place untouched by the modern world. Lush, vibrant plants of every color covered the ground, towering trees stretched high into the sky, their branches heavy with fruit, and a crystal-clear waterfall cascaded into a sparkling pool surrounded by delicate flowers.

Exotic creatures roamed freely, some so rare that Logan had only heard about them in legends. There were unicorns grazing by the water’s edge, phoenixes perched in the trees, and even a small family of griffins playfully wrestling in the distance.

“This… this is incredible,” Logan breathed, his voice laced with awe.

Y/N smiled shyly, a blush coloring her cheeks. “This is my sanctuary, a place where all creatures, mutant or otherwise, can live in peace. I’ve spent years creating and protecting it. It’s… it’s my home.”

As they walked deeper into the sanctuary, Logan couldn’t help but notice the way the animals greeted Y/N as if she were their queen. She interacted with them lovingly, whispering words of comfort, stroking their fur, and laughing when they nuzzled her affectionately.

But then, they reached a clearing, and Logan’s senses immediately went on high alert. A massive shadow passed overhead, and he looked up just in time to see a gigantic dragon circling above them, its scales shimmering in the sunlight.

The dragon landed with a thud, the ground shaking beneath its weight. It was an ancient, majestic creature with eyes that glowed like molten gold, and it was staring directly at Logan.

“Logan, this is Drakon. He’s one of my oldest friends,” Y/N said, her voice filled with affection as she approached the dragon without a hint of fear. “He’s been protecting this place for centuries.”

Logan nodded, trying to keep his cool, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Drakon was sizing him up, and not in a friendly way.

“Nice to meet you,” Logan said gruffly, extending a hand. The dragon huffed, a plume of smoke curling from its nostrils, clearly unimpressed.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “He’s just being protective. Drakon, Logan is my friend. You can trust him.”

The dragon narrowed its eyes, but finally gave a reluctant nod. Still, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that the dragon didn’t like him very much.

Over the next few hours, Y/N showed Logan around the sanctuary, introducing him to all the creatures and explaining how she had come to find and protect them. Logan listened intently, more captivated by her passion and love for this place than the creatures themselves.

But every time Y/N turned her back, Drakon would make his displeasure known. The dragon would nudge Logan toward a pool of mud, causing him to stumble and fall face-first into the muck, or he’d suddenly swoop down to land between Logan and Y/N, cutting him off and demanding all of her attention.

At one point, Drakon even “accidentally” knocked Logan off a ledge into a thorny bush, earning a surprised laugh from Y/N when she turned around to see Logan tangled in the branches.

“You alright, Logan?” she asked, rushing over to help him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Logan grumbled, glaring up at the dragon, who looked away innocently, a satisfied smirk in its golden eyes.

Logan wasn’t easily intimidated, but this dragon was really starting to get on his nerves.

As the sun began to set, Y/N and Logan sat by the edge of the pool, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Drakon rested nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Logan, though he pretended to be dozing.

“I’m glad you brought me here, Y/N,” Logan said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “This place… it’s a part of you. I can see why you wanted to protect it.”

She smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to show you for a while now. I trust you, Logan. I know you’d never hurt this place or the creatures here.”

Logan felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’. I’ll protect it just like you do.”

They sat in contented silence for a few more moments, but then a voice broke through the peaceful atmosphere.

“Hey, lovebirds! Mind if I join the cuddle fest?”

Logan groaned as Deadpool suddenly appeared from behind a tree, his red and black suit standing out starkly against the natural beauty of the sanctuary.

“What the hell are you doing here, Wade?” Logan growled, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh, you know, just following you guys. Figured you’d need a chaperone. And what do I find? A magical Disney wonderland! Seriously, you guys have been holding out on me!” Deadpool exclaimed, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the sanctuary.

Before Logan could retort, Drakon let out a deep growl, his eyes narrowing at Deadpool. “Oh, big guy, relax! I’m just here for the hugs and maybe to steal a unicorn for my apartment.”

The dragon let out a jet of flame that narrowly missed Deadpool’s head, causing him to dive for cover behind a boulder. “Yikes! Tough crowd! Guess I’ll stick to pestering Wolverine.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, I think we’ve got enough trouble with the dragon. We don’t need him making it worse.”

Y/N giggled, watching as Drakon continued to eye Deadpool suspiciously. “I think Drakon likes you more than Wade, at least.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, well, I’ll take what I can get.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sanctuary glowing in the soft light of twilight, Logan realized that, despite the dragon’s antics and Deadpool’s unwelcome appearance, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Here, in this hidden sanctuary, with Y/N by his side, he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to get along with that damn dragon too… as long as it stopped trying to push him into the mud.

As Logan and Y/N prepared to leave the sanctuary, Wadw trailed behind them, trying to coax a reluctant phoenix into his backpack. Drakon, still suspicious, hovered nearby, ready to intervene if necessary.

“Come on, little birdie, you know you want to—ow! Okay, okay, no stealing the mystical creatures,” Deadpool muttered, nursing a singed hand.

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Part 1/17 (Complete!)

"So please, I beg you - he is all that I have, and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more. Let him be soft, and let him be mine." - J.P.

Summary: Sequel to Můj Miláček - You'd survived, brought Viktor back from the brink of death, but at what cost? You were sure to find out.

Warnings (these will apply for the remainder of the fic, even if not explicitly mentioned in each chapter): Depictions of extensive injuries, blood, and hallucinations.

Masterlist

It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you clawed your way towards your goals with hands raw and blistered, it always felt like you were falling short. Not even for the ones you cherished above all else. You were doomed to fail, a broken marionette - strings dripping with Shimmer - who couldn’t play her part, who couldn’t do the one thing she had set out all those years ago to do. 

Save Sky, and save Viktor. It should have been simple. You had seen the future, and you had your magic, unpredictable and stubborn, as it may be, and still, you'd failed. Perhaps that was just another flaw on your part - to be unable to use the tools given to you to any degree of effectiveness - another weakness that prevented you from protecting those you loved. If you’d tried harder, done better, maybe you could have saved them. But Sky had crumbled into dust, and Viktor…

It had only taken two steps out of that dark and dingy cave before he’d stumbled, coughing until blood seeped from the corners of his lips. 

Despite your best efforts to heal him, the illness had only been temporarily delayed. It was like trying to cover a gaping wound with a small bandage; it would take much more than that to ensure proper healing. And yet, there you were, still struggling with your own body's ailments, too weak to do anything more than hobble beside him.

The Shimmer that had bound itself to your veins, to your magic - your very core - managed to patch you up enough to prevent imminent death, to close your wounds into barely healed scars, but the pain was relentless. Like flames licking across your skin, your limbs coursing with white-hot fire. It was a miracle that you could even stand, and as the adrenaline faded and concern for Viktor grew, you were relatively certain the only thing keeping you going was the sheer amount of power you had absorbed - that you had made your own. 

Thick, acrid smog slithered into your lungs as Viktor led you toward the outskirts of the Undercity. Surrounded by decaying buildings and alleyways reeking of decay and filth, it was safest to keep a low profile. While the cloaks you’d borrowed - stolen - from Singed’s lab provided some degree of coverage, it was best to remain hidden while you were both recovering - while Viktor continued to deteriorate. 

“I need to stop for a moment.” You leaned against a cool cement wall, hot pink graffiti tags and chips taken out from years of wear and tear lining the building. The abandoned streets stretched out in front of you, devoid of any signs of life. You had no idea where you were, you’d yet to see anyone else, and from the thickness of the smog, you could understand why. 

From the start, it was clear that neither of you could fully support the other physically. Viktor still relied on his crutch for stability, and your burns made even the thought of someone grazing your left side unbearable. Not to mention the runes from the Hexcore that had carved themselves into your flesh. Even the wall against your shoulders was enough to make your face contort into a pained grimace, until you angled yourself so only your right side touched the surface. 

“It’s only a little further.” Viktor extended his hand, the metallic surface glinting in the dim light. The once-vibrant blue bolts of light that had danced between his fingers had faded and now only faintly flickered at the edges. “I promise, it will be worth it.” 

Too tired for words, you gave a grunt of affirmation, pushing yourself off the wall and accepting his hand. With the renewed determination offered by his touch, you continued towards your destination. 

As promised, it didn't take long for the crumbling facades of abandoned row houses to come into view. Their once vibrant colours were now faded and peeling, like old paint on a weathered canvas. The broken windows gave off a vacant stare, as if the buildings themselves were longing for life to return. You followed Viktor through the narrow alleyways, the stench of decay growing stronger with each step. Viktor led you to a decrepit door, its hinges rusted and creaking from years of neglect. As he pushed it open, the sound echoed throughout the desolate streets, a haunting reminder of what once was.

Inside, a musty scent hung heavy, the kind that clings to the lungs and coats the tongue with a metallic tang. Cobwebs draped corners, thick and undisturbed. Dust danced in the slants of light that pierced the boarded windows, casting eerie shadows that seemed to shift and contort with each breath.

As you stepped further inside, a strange sense of familiarity washed over you. The bare walls, stripped of any hint of life, echoed with each step you took on the squeaking floorboards. The air was stale as if it had been trapped inside for well over a decade. It all stirred something deep within, a memory just beyond your grasp. You ran your fingers along the exposed brick, tracing the worn grooves and indentations as if they might reveal some long-buried secret. Following the path your fingers had set, you walked past what used to be a tiny kitchen, barely recognizable now with its empty shelves and rusted appliances. Heading past the stairs leading to the upper level, you continued into what once must have been a living room. It was empty, save a rotted couch in the far corner, light green wallpaper peeling in strips to expose the crumbling drywall underneath.

As much as you wanted to explore further and unravel the threads of your memory, your body protested every movement, and you no longer had the will to resist. The floor was as comfy a place to rest as any. While your couch back at the Academy had been particularly springy, the couch that occupied the barren living room was entirely springs and a rotted wooden frame. 

But with rest, with your body no longer able to occupy itself with propelling you forward one step at a time, your mind scattered. 

You hadn’t noticed the blood splattering the wall opposite you when you’d first arrived, but as you sank onto the worn floorboards, careful to rest only your uninjured side against the dusty wall, out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of the crimson liquid. 

Drip, drip, drip, it echoed through the room, each drop splattering against the floor with a quiet plink. Raining down from a crack in the ceiling, angry lines running out from a fissure, the blood pooled in a grotesque puddle, seeping into the floorboards. Your body froze as you pressed yourself against the wall, your fingers clawing for any kind of grip as you tried to distance yourself from the nightmarish scene. Whose blood was that? It was fresh, the metallic tang of iron and death filled your nostrils, making you gag. It could have filled a large bathtub with the amount that rained down from above, the drip becoming a steady stream before the reality of your situation set in.

Viktor, where was Viktor? Your head whipped around, a whimper ripping itself from your throat as your skin protested the movement with a sharp rake of pain. But you didn’t care, Viktor wasn’t within sight, and the creaking of the ceiling above indicated that someone was slowly walking across it.

Was it Viktor, or had you failed to protect him in your moment of weakness?

Scrambling up and stumbling against the door frame, you found the rickety stairs leading to the second floor. If Viktor had gone up there, how had you not heard him? And yet, unless he’d left the house, there was nowhere but the living room or kitchen for him to go. 

The sound of your ragged breathing curled around your ears like smoke, your hand leaving bloody prints along the railing as you made your way up the stairs. A pounding began at the base of your skull. Had you touched the blood? You couldn’t recall. 

“Viktor.” His name was pulled from your dry mouth in a hoarse gasp as you crested the top of the stairs, your chest heaving with the effort. The landing split off into two small rooms, their doors thrown open invitingly. From your position, you strained to catch a glimpse inside, but the angle made it impossible for you to see beyond the threshold.

Viktor did not respond, and the noxious gas of fear rose in your chest. Stumbling forward on uncoordinated legs, you aimed yourself toward the room where the blood was coming from. Your vision swam as your strength waned, but still, you pushed on, determined and terrified.

Upon making it into the room, you nearly collapsed with relief when you saw Viktor standing at the window, peering out at the streets below. The room itself was bare, the floor clean except for the thick coat of dust that lined every other inch of the house. But as he turned to face you, any consolation you felt evaporated. Viktor, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders, his metallic chest gleaming in the low moonlight, was not as unharmed as he had first appeared to be. Blood dripped from his nose, his eyes, his ears, the sides of his mouth, staining his pale skin with streaks of dark red. With a cry of horror, you tripped over your feet in your haste to get to his side. 

His eyes widened at the speed of your approach, of the panic that lay in the tight lines of your face. Your hands outstretched were caught in his, deftly, though he still leaned on his crutch. His mouth moved, but you heard no sound over the rushing white noise in your ears. How was he so calm? Did he not realize he was dying again? Trembling, you released your magic, pale blue light flowing over him and encompassing him in its aura. 

But it did nothing to heal him. 

It never did. 

His lips moved once more, but their words were lost in the deluge of tears that streamed down your face. Your vision blurred as you tried to read his lips, your breathing rapid and broken by hiccups and sobs. The sound of his voice was muffled, like it was coming from underwater, and you strained to make out any meaning behind the garbled sounds.

No! You wanted to scream. I only just lost him, I cannot do it again!

Pushing against his grasp, you felt him soften his hold and allow you to reach for him, to feel the smoothness of his cheek beneath your touch, to wipe your thumb beneath his nose, excepting to find the slickness of blood, only to find…nothing but the soft feel of his skin. 

Blinking hard, you pulled your other hand back to wipe away your tears, salt stinging at your wounds. Your heart throbbed, aching with every beat as you tried to hold back your sobs. 

“Miláček,” his voice was pitched low and gentle, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Your bottom lip quivered, vision blurring as your magic surged out of you and into Viktor. The deafening white noise in your ears slowly faded, and the thick, metallic scent of blood that had filled the air disappeared, as if it had never been there to begin with.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you closed the remaining distance between you. His hands found your uninjured cheek, holding you with a tenderness that could make even the toughest of hearts melt away. “I-I don’t…” A shaky exhale. “I thought you were hurt.”

With a soft sigh that eased the tension from your shoulders - for only a man at peace could make such a sound - he said, “Then it’s a good thing I remain unharmed.” You leaned into his touch, his hand warm against your skin, his pulse beating a steady rhythm. “We should rest; the events of the day have taken a toll on our minds and bodies."

That was an understatement. The last few hours felt like an eternity, as if time had stretched and twisted into a never-ending spiral. In that short span, you’d learned so much, yet not enough.

The carnage had only just begun. 

As you slowly emerged from the depths of sleep, you found yourself cocooned in Viktor's warm embrace. Though your legs were numb and your back ached from the hard floor beneath you, your body burning anew as the throb of your injuries surged to the forefront of your consciousness, the rise and fall of Viktor’s chest beneath your palm had you biting back your pained cry. 

As your eyes fluttered open, the soft light of your magic filled your vision, casting an otherworldly glow around you. Through the haze of your aches and exhaustion, you concluded that the reason you were not screaming and thrashing was the numbing effects of your magic as it rolled over you both, dulling the sharp edges of agony pulsating through you.

Slowly, you raised your head from the hardness of his shoulder, feeling a twinge in your ear from being squished against it all night. But in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor discomfort that hardly registered. In the dim light of the cloudy morning, sunlight filtering through the grimy window, you studied him. His face, tranquil in sleep, looked years younger without the burden of worry creasing into his forehead. His lips parted slightly as he breathed evenly, his hair mused, curling at his nape. Your fingers traced over his chest, shirt torn from where you’d ripped it, feeling the cool metal that had been infused with your own magic to save his life, sparks of energy crackling beneath your touch. Did it hurt him, you wondered. Had you hurt him? 

The Hexcore, pulsating with dark energy, still resided within you. Soraka's powerful magic had sealed it away, but its presence was unmistakable. It sat like a stone lodged in your throat, no amount of swallowing hard could remove it. It clawed and thrashed within its confines, eager to be unleashed and wield its power over others. It had done so to Viktor, hadn’t it? Transformed him into something a little less flesh and blood, a little more mechanical. Or rather, you had done that to him in your frantic attempt to save his life. And already you could feel it fading, feel your work run out of power. You hadn’t known what you were doing, you still didn’t. You possessed innate magical abilities, but Viktor did not - his body relied on the fuel provided by the Hexcore, leaving him vulnerable, and you had locked away the only thing that could give it to him.

Not to mention the six Gemstones worth of power that you had already absorbed, awakening your latent magic and leaving it pulsing through your body, ready to be harnessed and wielded. But even as the potential for greatness coursed through you, so too did the overwhelming burn of magic, like a slippery acid, seeping into every pore and nerve ending. Your body, unable to withstand the intense pressure, had taken upon itself the task of releasing your magic while you slept, desperate to ease the constant urge for more.

“That tickles, Miláček.” Viktor's thumb and forefinger traced the outline of your chin, gently turning your face to meet his gaze. His eyes were hazy with sleep, but a lazy smile still graced his lips. You lingered on the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his jaw, before finally registering what he had said, and the light shake of his chest as he held back laughter. 

Electric blue sparks crackled and danced across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. They playfully jumped onto Viktor, skittering across his chest before disappearing into the crevasses of metal that adorned his body.

“Oh!” You jumped and a fresh wave of sparks burst from you and cascaded over Viktor, eliciting a light and unexpected giggle. You’d never heard such a sound from him before, and while the circumstances were less than ideal, you tucked the memory of it safely away. “I’m so sorry!” 

Inhaling deeply, you willed the sparks to stop, to cease their teasing dance and leave you alone. But they seemed to have a will of their own, and your efforts to control them only seemed to ignite them further. With a renewed energy, they flitted and flickered around you, emitting soft, tinkling laughter that sounded like mischievous pixies at play. Their movements were graceful yet erratic, like a troupe of ballet dancers performing an impromptu routine.  

Viktor laughed, loud and startled, no longer able to hold it back as the tickling increased. It bubbled up from deep within him, spreading through his body like a wildfire, until he couldn't hold it in any longer. His whole frame shook with mirth, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

“I don’t know how to stop it!” Panic laced your voice, and while you were thankful that it wasn’t hurting him, you were well aware of how quickly your magic could change. 

Trying to speak was a futile endeavour when one was being tickled by hundreds of little sparks, and Viktor made a valiant effort, but it did little in the face of the…magical ticklers? The whole situation was absurd; here you were, running away from Piltover, losing control over your magic, the Hexcore a constant threat, and Viktor…well, you weren’t sure what was happening with him, he was alive, but without the Hexcore, you didn’t how long that would last. Yet, amidst all of that, Viktor was lost in a laughing fit, at the mercy of your magic as it tickled him. 

With great effort, you heaved yourself upright and scooted away from him, your muscles aching and protesting with every movement. It was your only option, to create some space between you. The sparks leaped across the floor, continuing to barrage Viktor with their giggles and tickles. However, as you made it halfway across the room, even the exuberant sparks seemed to have their limits, groaning with high-pitched dismay as they strained to reach Viktor.

“Stop that,” you hissed, swiping your hand through their path. They shrieked as they dispersed, their target no longer in reach, their joy cut off. 

Sitting up, Viktor pressed a hand to his chest, catching his breath and wiping away the remnants of his tears. You grimaced, swatting away the remaining sparks as they bickered their irritation, until all that remained was the silent flow of your pain relief. 

“That was certainly unexpected,” Viktor said when he’d regained his composure, his lips tilted in an amused grin. He didn’t seem to be in pain, despite not having your magic - stuck at a distance as you were - to soothe any aches. 

“I…don’t know what that was.” You pursed your lips, gaze averted. “I’m so sorry.” 

Viktor shook his head, patting down the tuft of hair that stuck up at the back like a ducktail. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m capable of withstanding some tickling.”

“It’s not just that,” you argued, “I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control my own magic. This time I didn’t hurt you, but what if next time I do?”

With a sigh, Viktor pushed himself up to stand, and began making his way towards you. Scrambling to get away, you scooted yourself farther back. “No, no, no, wait! They could come back!”

“Eh,” Viktor shrugged, making no move to heed your warning. “Then I will be at their mercy again.”

Your back hit the wall, and you had nowhere else to go. Before you could find an exit, he was kneeling in front of you, his left knee clanking against the ground.

“May I?” His skin and bone hand hovered just over your cheek. His face was so open in its vulnerability, in his concern, as he leaned

in close to you; knees pulled tight against your chest.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper, thick and lodged in your throat, swallowing around the Hexcore. 

“You will not.” He said it with such unwavering certainty, such conviction, you could find no room to argue. 

You took a shaky breath, and slowly, like you were taking a tentative step into an overheated bathtub, you leaned your cheek against his awaiting palm. 

And your magic stayed put, it didn’t lash out, didn’t roll through his body like it did yours. You didn’t hurt him. 

The tension in your legs eased, allowing them to fall loosely around his body as he drew nearer. His sturdy knees nestled comfortably beneath your thighs, bringing you closer together.

“See,” his thumb brushed across your skin and you sighed your content, “I was correct.”

Your hand overlapped his as you nuzzled your face into his palm. “No need to gloat,” you said with no real irritation. 

He chuckled, but said nothing, simply giving you time to breathe, to calm the fractured plains of your mind as his thumb continued to swipe across your cheek. 

“Where are we?” you asked after a minute. You’d meant to ask last night, but your exhaustion and terror had gotten the better of you. The kitchen had seemed strangely familiar, but try as you might you couldn’t place it. 

Viktor looked around the room, tenderness in the upward tilt of his brow. “My childhood home. I moved to the Academy shortly after my parents passed, but even by that time, the neighbourhood was already thinning. The Grey was worse here than in other places, the ventilation system never worked as well on the outskirts. I didn’t think I would ever be back here.” 

You were at a loss for how to respond. Your mind raced with questions - should you offer your condolences for his parents? He had never explicitly mentioned their deaths, but it had been clear from his demeanour on the rare occasion that they were brought up, that they were no longer alive. Or perhaps you should validate his decision to leave, to escape The Grey that had most likely been the cause of his declining health. Maybe both actions were necessary, or maybe neither would suffice. Should you simply pat him on the shoulder like you were an emotionally stunted adult trying to console a child?

“You don’t have to say anything.” Had you said that all aloud or had he simply guessed where your thoughts had headed? “I don’t want to be troubled by the past, not when I have you here right now.” 

Such a simple statement had such a profound effect on your battered heart. Like the leech you were, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his waist and tugging him close. The sharp sting of your burns was nothing compared to the warmth spreading from his touch. His hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, sighing into your hair as you tucked your face against his shoulder, inhaling his scent - a mix of pine and the metallic tang of steel. It was slightly different than how he used to smell, just like the hardness of his partially metal body, but it didn't change anything about how you felt. You loved him, had loved him for years - permeating through your soul like it had always belonged there. 

Your hands tightened their grip on his back. “How are you feeling?” Your voice was muffled against him, but loud enough to be heard. 

“I should be asking you the same.” 

A dismissal, an attempt to divert your attention from what he knew would upset you. But even though you were exhausted in both body and spirit, you were not so easily distracted from his health. 

You pinched his metal chest harmlessly, like squeezing the corner of a table between your fingers. “I asked you first.” 

You felt him smile against the top of your head. “I see your stubbornness has not been affected.” 

“Nor yours,” you shot back, earning you a hum of agreement. 

“I am…” he began, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, his fingers scraping along your scalp. “Alive. Though I feel my strength waning, it is too soon to tell if this is simply a result of the power you poured into my body stabilizing, or something worse.”

You bit your lip, the tangy taste of blood rising to your tongue. It wasn’t too soon for you, your magic screamed at you that this decline would continue, that without the Hexcore he would only become weaker and weaker until—

“Milá, you have provided me with more time than I ever would have had without you.” He couldn’t possibly know that for certain, without you maybe he would have found a cure, would have been able to use the Hexcore properly to cure his illness. “And most importantly, I have more time with you.” 

You lifted your face towards his, meeting his gaze as he looked down at you, lovingly, like you were worth all the pain and trouble. You weren’t entirely so sure, but you melted into him all the same, powerless to resist. His hand returned to your cheek, his eyes trailing over your injuries, a crease forming between his brows. 

“Your wounds are healing, but as I avoided your inquiry, you have avoided mine.” 

You huffed, licking the blood off your lips as subtly as possible, though his gaze flickered to the movement of your tongue and you doubted he had missed it. “I don’t really know how to answer. I feel…like I’m hanging on by a thread, like one strong gust will blow me over and my magic will take my place and control me. I’m afraid, but also, I’m beyond grateful that I am here with you, that I…get to love you for longer.”

You hadn’t talked about anything that had happened between you in that cave. You hadn’t addressed the confessions or the way you’d melded together and kissed him with desperation. Nervousness churned in your gut as you spoke your love for him aloud in the dim light of day, wondering if he could still feel the same way despite how your magic had already displayed defiance, how you looked without the shadows to hide your burned skin. You met his gaze, and that doubt faded away like a distant memory.

He leaned his forehead against yours, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosted across your lips. “As am I, Miláček.” 

Viktor leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours in a feather-light caress. You tilted your chin up in silent invitation, inviting him closer. His gaze dropped to your parted lips and he let out a soft, shuddering exhale.

And finally, his lips pressed against yours with a tender urgency that stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth was a gentle flame, spreading through your body and melting you from the inside out. Your fingers instinctively tangled in his soft hair, the strands silken between your fingertips. As he deepened the kiss, Viktor's metal hand slid around to cradle the back of your head while the other firmly gripped your waist.

You melted into his solid frame, feeling every inch of him pressed against you. Your hands slid up his chest until your fingers curled around the back of his neck. The thrumming pulse of his changed body resonated through you, a steady drumbeat in time with your wildly racing heart.

You lost yourself in the languid dance. All the fear, the pain, the uncertainty faded into the background until there was only this – only him and the reverent way his mouth worshipped yours.

Despite the unknowns of what the future held and the daunting task of finding a solution to Viktor's decline, you knew that you were not alone. You would figure it out together. 

Next Chapter

A/N: YAYYY!!! So excited to be back writing these two, I've missed them so much :') I hope you enjoyed some silly Viktor, he was sorely missing in this season, but don't worry, there is plenty more where that came from! I'd also written this scene before they came out with his new league skin that gets tickled by his robot arm - I love that I am on the same page as his writers lol.

Let me know what you think and any predictions for how you think its gonna go! I'd be super interested to hear them :) And as always, thank you for reading!!

I'll be posting another chapter hopefully later this week/weekend so stay tuned!

If I’m missing any warnings, please let me know!

Join us on Discord here

[mandoriana]

I imagined a story, where Arthur was born a woman, but Uther wanted an heir and forced his daughter to be a boy. However, Arthur is not trans; she is not a boy, even having muscles, wearing pants and armor, or even working with the knights. Arthur is a woman, and looking in the mirror and seeing a man is torture for her. No one besides Gaius and Uther knows about this. Morgana suspects that Arthur is gay but doesn’t know that Arthur just wants to be seen and looked at as a woman in the same way Morgana is seen. Basically, it’s a body dysphoria that many transgender people experience.

Since Arthur was always raised as a man, she doesn’t have a feminine name and hates being called Arthur, so she insists that everyone calls her Sir or Prince (I don’t know about outside my country, but Sir and Prince in Brazil are neutral names/nicknames).

When Merlin arrives in Camelot, he quickly clashes with Arthur and then saves her life, becoming the prince’s servant (Uther forgot that Arthur was a woman). At first, Merlin finds it strange that Arthur doesn’t let him help with anything, not being able to put away Arthur’s clothes, not helping her dress in normal clothes, only in armor, and not being allowed to wash her clothes sometimes (due to menstruation). Merlin also notices that the prince has strange behaviors, like staring too much at some ladies’ clothes like a pervert (Arthur was just envying the dress), getting more irritable and emotional once a month (PMS), and burning bloody cloths in the fireplace. Merlin saw this only once, and Arthur was so embarrassed that she kicked and yelled at Merlin to get out (medieval pads).

Anyway, Merlin starts to notice these details about Arthur while getting closer to the prince. One day (perhaps in the episode where Sophia enchants Arthur), Merlin needs to take care of an unconscious Arthur and decides to dress her in more comfortable clothes. When he opens the wardrobe, he is surprised to see feminine underwear and a crumpled dress hidden at the back. At first, he worries that he is serving a pervert, but he realizes there are no male underwear in Arthur’s wardrobe and starts to piece together that maybe the prince owns the feminine underwear. Merlin, always open-minded, decides it’s none of his business and grabs a soft white tunic that Arthur used to sleep in and goes to dress his prince, only to almost have a heart attack upon finding breasts instead of a muscular chest.

When Arthur wakes up and realizes someone changed her clothes, she panics and starts crying when she sees Merlin. She wanted to get angry and yell, but she can only beg Merlin not to tell anyone. Merlin approaches carefully and hugs Arthur, apologizing and saying it wasn’t his intention to hurt her and begging for forgiveness for violating her honor by seeing her body without permission. From then on, the two become even more inseparable than before. Merlin listens to what Uther forced Arthur to be and decides he will do everything in his power to make his PRINCESS the happiest woman in the world. Merlin starts spending his salary on dresses and corsets made to fit Arthur’s muscular body, starts calling Arthur by feminine pronouns when they are alone and neutral pronouns in public, refusing to call his princess by masculine pronouns. What I mean is that Merlin becomes the knight in shining armor that Arthur was forced to be, and Arthur finally gets to be the princess she always wanted to be.

I think the most exciting part I thought about this story was Merlin having the honor of naming Arthur, removing the name Uther forced on his heir and giving her a name worthy of the future Queen of Camelot. So one day, Arthur is wearing one of the dresses Merlin gave her and smiling at herself in the mirror, and Merlin calls her Astrid, making the princess cry because it was the first time in her life she felt like herself.

In the end, Merlin reveals his magic to Astrid, and Astrid reveals it to Morgana when Merlin tells her that Morgana has magic. This way, Morgana doesn’t become the villain, joining her beloved sister to overthrow Uther. It all ends with Astrid being crowned Queen, Morgana as the regent princess, and Merlin as the king

😊👐

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

Devil in Paradise

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Scott Summers x Mutant!Reader.

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ In a world where light and darkness intertwine, Scott Summers is the guardian of a shattered reality. His love for you, a spark in the gloom, becomes a chain that binds your fate to his. Trapped between his devotion and his obsession, the line between protection and possession blurs, revealing an abyss of dark passion. As echoes of the past resonate and shadows lurk, your heart, marked by his fervor, confronts the most dreaded question: is his love your salvation or your doom?

warnings ⸺ mdni! Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, invasion of privacy, scars, ¿kidnapping?, delusion, Angst, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation. The reader is referred to as a student, but she is of legal age.

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I'm sorry to the little person who asked me for this, but the message got deleted :"(. I was about to post it, but then I realized that what I wrote wasn't saved and I had to delete the post. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... met you in your most vulnerable moment. After the devastating breakup with Jean, the only thing keeping Scott sane was his duty as a leader. On a mission, he found you in a cage, trembling, dirty, and resigned to your fate. Something in you awakened his protective instinct. He carried you out in his arms, whispering promises that you would be safe with him. That day, something in his heart began to change.

Yandere! Scott Summers who...took you to the X-Mansion. Despite his tensions with Jean, he decided to stay by your side when you begged him not to leave. Every day, Scott sat by your bed in the infirmary, tending to your wounds. While Jean examined you, he calmed you down, his hands never leaving yours. With each word of encouragement you gave him, he convinced himself that only he could save you from the cruel world.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... agrees to train you after Professor Xavier noticed your strong attachment to him. At first, Scott thought it would be better to keep his distance, but every time he saw you, his need to protect you grew. Your dependence fed him, and soon he became your mentor, teaching you to control your powers with an almost suffocating devotion.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... enjoys the moments when you lean on him during training. Every time you faltered, his arms caught you, and his soft voice assured you that he was there for you, always. The sweat on your skin, the slight tremor in your hands, all made him feel closer to you, as if he were your personal savior. He knew no one else could understand you like he did.

Yandere! Scott Summers who...has a fight with Jean when she questions his relationship with you. "She's your student, Scott! You can't be with her like that!" Jean shouted. But Scott, blinded by his obsession, no longer listened to her. "She needs me, Jean. You never understood." The argument escalated to the point where both lost control of their powers. The room ended up destroyed, and although neither of them died, the confrontation made it clear to everyone that Scott would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, even facing his former love.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... wakes up early every day, ensuring that your routine is perfectly calculated. From your breakfast to your training, nothing escapes his control. He hands you a cup of milk every morning, watching with a calm smile as you take the first sip. Sometimes, in the kitchen, his fingers brush against yours, and although it seems casual, the pressure of his touch is too firm, too insistent. "You need to be at your best," he says softly, his eyes hidden behind the visor. "I don’t want you to be defenseless again. Not like that time."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... while training you, catches you every time you fail at a move before you can fall. Too fast. Always there. As if the ground was never an option for you while he was near. The closeness between you is almost suffocating, but Scott never notices, or if he does, it doesn't seem to matter to him. His hands linger too long on your waist, his whispers are too intimate.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... can barely control the jealousy that burns in his chest when someone else pays you attention. Once, during a mission, Morph made a joke about your abilities. Everyone laughed, but Scott did not. His jaw tightened, and his eyes, though hidden, seemed to bore into Morph's neck. That same night, he found you in the hallways, too close to Morph's room for his liking. "What were you doing talking so much with him?" His tone was soft, but the pressure of his fingers on your wrist was not. "You shouldn’t get too close to people like him. He doesn’t understand what you need. Not like I do."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... finally could no longer contain his confession. He caught you one afternoon, right after training. You were tired, exhausted from the day, but he was closer than ever, his breath quickened, the words about to spill over. "I can’t keep quiet about this." His hands closed around your arms, but not with the softness of before. There was desperation in his gestures. "I need you. You don’t understand what it means to me that you’re here. I can’t lose you, I can’t… not after Jean." His ex's name echoed in the room but was quickly replaced by the echo of your name, said over and over like a mantra, a longing. "You don’t know how much I longed for someone like you to appear. Someone who wouldn’t leave me, who needs me as much as I need you."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... sometimes lets his darker side take over. One night, while you tried to escape the Mansion for a few hours to clear your mind and go out with your friends, you found him waiting for you at the door, his tall, dark figure outlined against the dim light outside. The smell of damp earth and the fog rising around him gave him an almost ghostly presence. "You shouldn’t try to leave without me," he said softly, stepping closer. "The world is dangerous, Y/N. You know that. I can’t leave you alone." His hand rose to caress your face, but the softness of that gesture contrasted with the edge in his words. "I would never do that."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty if someone gets too close to you. Once, you saw his knuckles bloodied after Morph accompanied you back to the Mansion after a mission. Scott didn’t say much about what had happened, only told you that Morph "finally understood." And although you wanted to ask more, the sharp tone in his voice made you quiet.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... firmly believes that everything he does is for your well-being. His thoughts grow darker every day, but in his mind, every action is justified. "I’m saving you, Y/N. I’m saving you from pain, from loss… from what the world would do to you if I’m not here to protect you." And although the darkness of his words surrounds you, you realize that escaping from his shadow is almost impossible. Because somewhere deep in your mind, a part of you starts to believe him.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... longs for a life with you that goes beyond the confines of the X-Mansion. In his mind, the echoes of small children's laughter fill the empty hallways, and in every dark corner, he imagines a family he never had. He envisions you as the mother of his children, caring for them with the same devotion he feels for you. "Can you imagine?" he murmurs one night while looking into your eyes, his hands gently stroking your hair. "A house full of laughter... it would be perfect." His voice has a hint of madness as he describes his vision of life together. The idea of a family gives him a reason to live, a way to redeem the pain he carries with him. In his world, there is nothing purer than the love he could offer you, nor anything more sacred than the family they would build.

Yandere! Scott Summers que... se convierte en un observador silencioso de tus noches. Cuando finalmente el sueño te conquista, se sienta en un rincón de tu habitación, la luz tenue proyecta sombras sobre su rostro. Te observa dormir y siente que le duele el corazón. A menudo se queda allí durante horas, asegurándose de que estás bien, sintiendo que cada segundo que te observa lo une más a ti. "No puedo dejar que nada te haga daño, T/N", susurra, como si los murmullos pudieran protegerte incluso en tus sueños. Te imagina girando en la oscuridad, buscando su presencia, y se siente satisfecho. "Eres mía", repite en su mente, como un mantra que lo ancla a la realidad.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... has turned the space between you into a battleground. Every time others approach, like when you have joint training with Ororo or share a laugh with Jubilee, his face darkens. "Why don’t you look at me?" he asks softly, a tone laden with insecurity in his words. His reaction is almost automatic, and when you drift too far away, he feels the air leave his lungs. "I just want you to be safe, Y/N," he says, and that need consumes him. The dependence you have developed towards him becomes a refuge, but also a burden, a reminder that his hopes are intertwined with your presence.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... fears that one day you will leave him. So, every night, before the darkness envelops everything, he makes sure to seal his love in your mind. As he closes his eyes, he imagines whispering promises of a future together, full of children running around the house, of a home where laughter drowns out the pain of the past. "I will always be here to protect you. I will always be your refuge," he says while stroking your cheek, his touch a gentle reminder of what you mean to him. As days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, the idea of losing you drives him mad, and his love becomes a chain that binds him as much to you as to himself.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... finds satisfaction in the moments when he sees you vulnerable. When you are sad, he is the first to come to you, wrapping you in his embrace and ensuring you feel his warmth. "You will never be alone again, Y/N. Not when I have the strength to protect you from everything outside," he murmurs. In those moments, his desire to bind you to him becomes a purpose: he watches you cry and, although his heart breaks, he also feels a kind of power in being able to comfort you. "You are so strong, but also so fragile. And I... I can’t let the world hurt you," he confesses, a dark gleam in his eyes.

Yandere! Scott Summers who...feels more like your guardian than a partner every day. In his mind, there is no space for doubt. The idea of a family becomes an obsession, and the need to protect you from any pain consumes him. "If you ever leave me, I don’t know what I’ll do," he confesses to you on a dark night, while the stars blink indifferently. "I can’t lose you, Y/N. Never. I need you too much." In his mind, every word is a promise, every look is a chain that binds you closer to him.

Because you were only his,

you knew that, didn’t you?

A/N ──── When I received the message, I was in math class, and I spent five minutes thinking about who Scott Summers was (I don't know why I thought of Twilight) until I realized he was Cyclops. The night before, I was debating with a friend about how he had relationships xD.

Personally, Scott is not my favorite character from X-men, but I find him very interesting, especially how he lives day to day with his mutation. I've never been interested in his relationships (because I don't care about them, especially Jean, who is one of my least favorites among the female characters in Marvel). I think I like the Cyclops from the movies and from the series more than in the comics, but just a little.

Again, sorry for the inconvenience of the message.

Take a bath!

[johnskleats]

Azula would have lost the Final Agni Kai no matter what. Here's why:

Azula is insecure. That's why she takes cheap shots. She did it with Katara, and she did it with Aang in CoD, AND she did it with Iroh striking him with lightning. One could even argue that her behavior in CoD foreshadows some of what happens in the Agni Kai, where in CoD, Katara fights Azula, and Zuko saves her, whereas in the Final Agni Kai, Zuko fights Azula and saves Katara. It's a little mismatch of dynamics.

Azula cheating (constantly), is a staple of dishonorable behavior, which I think is interesting.

We see her "play with her food" like a cat, with the Dai Lee and other opponents she encounters. She tricks them and manipulates them and there's no threat. Killing Aang with lightning was SUPREMELY stupid on her part, and she wouldn't have done it unless she was cornered. She didn't even stick around to make sure he was dead or have any of them followed-- because she was scared. Zuko NEVER flees in fights out of fear. He doubles down like a lunatic and tries to get himself killed instead. Azula is not willing to risk her life, and that's why she's a worse fighter. The insecurity gets to her head and she psychs herself out

Azula has a lot of fire power (lol), but Zuko has the heart and commitment to see actions through to the end. That's why he would have won, had Azula not cheated.

By the end, they were evenly matched in firepower anyway. They did the Raging Line of Flames Competing Colors thing and met in the middle, and stayed there. That's how animation tells us about their ability.

Azula's seat of power in her firebending is spite and fear. She's not even mad, bro.

Zuko's seat of power, at the end, is light and life and love. One is a powder keg that runs out after you blow it up once, and the other is like an oil fire in a parking lot. There's essentially infinite fuel there.

Zuko would have certainly outlasted her. And did, if you think about it. Because she panicked.

Azula's entire persona is a mask, just as Zuko's bravado and pettiness in the first season was a mask. (Funny, that he can only be himself when he's hidden the scar with the blue spirit mask, therefore freeing himself of the shame and the mark that brands him as a villain)

They show us that Azula's mask is not only slipping, but cracking, crumbling in the mirror scene. That's why it's there: to show the audience that all of her running has finally caught up with her.

This world that Azula created has been a sham from the beginning. Castles in the sky to make up for what she lacks: love.

Which is why she would never win against Zuko if they both reached their full potential, as they did during the comet.

[wonnieluv]

Goodness knows, the wicked’s lives are lonely - Sim Jake

Summary: Jake Sim doesn’t know what year it is, he doesn’t know what month it is, he doesn’t know what day it is, and he doesn’t care. Ever since that fateful day in 1692, he stopped caring. Now, it’s 2024 and he’s grown more violent, more vengeful, more cold, more… alone

vampire!Jake x fem!reader

warnings: death, themes of reincarnation, blood, y/n’s life is not easy, suggestive, biting, kissing. lmk if I missed anything

masterlist

The smell of fire was overpowering, screams echoed off of the trees but they were not afraid, no… they were… excited, passionate, enraged.

He remained where he was, hidden in the trees as he watched the people march through the forest, his forest. They carried torches that burned an angry shade of orange against the trees.

The angry crowd halted at a large tree deep in the forest. Not much could be seen from the back of the crowd, but through the smoke, a young girl could be seen climbing a platform. Her tear streaked skin illuminated by the glow to the torches as the crowd shouted curses at her.

“Burn the witch!”

“Kill that spawn of Satan”

As she looked upon the sea of angry faces she once knew. The smiles she used to see now replaced with scowls as their mouths cursed her.

In the midst of her thoughts she failed to feel the toughness of the rope against her neck until it was too late. Harsh hands shoved her off of the platform. Her told hands keeping her from struggling as she was left there to die

“what… have you done”

An angry voice boomed from deep within the woods. He stepped out onto the path. Fangs gritted in a snarl, claw-like hands bared, eyes glowing a bright red due to the reflection of the fire form the torches. His aura was fierce and intimidating as he approached the crowd. He was angry.

Without hesitation he immediately began to kill. Clawing hands clawing the chest of anyone who dared step in his path. Fangs plunging deep into the necks of every person in his sight.

By the time he laid your body on the ground, your head in his lap; tears no longer fell from your eyes. The heat that once warmed his palms as he caressed your cheeks has now almost completely disappeared. Your eyes still wide open as they gazed up at him as his own tears began to wet your pale cheeks.

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t protect you… I couldn’t save you on time my love…”

“Return to me please… Y/N…” He finished with a final kiss to your forehead as he lay you peacefully to rest.

From that moment forward, Sim Jaeyun would proceed to break every single promise he once made you.

He began to feed on humans again as he did before he met you, only this time, he was far more violent, more cruel, more… wicked.

࿎

Within the vampire world, there are councils and laws to regulate how much human blood vampires were allowed to consumed within certain time frames as the consumption of human blood has the ability to increase a vampires powers.

Sim Jaeyun no longer cared for the rules. He fed, and fed, and fed, and fed. He recklessly killed any human he wanted whenever he wanted. He didn’t care. No matter how many he killed, he couldn’t satisfy the need for revenge.

In response the higher powers banished him to an eternal prison deep in the forest where he now resides.

“They say he is bound by a magical barrier and is unable to leave the woods. They say that’s why the woods are off limits because you can no longer be protected if you step into the barrier. They say- what?! I’m not done yet” the older boy sneered at the 4-year-old who eagerly raised a hand.

“W-well what about his family. Does he get to see his mom and dad?” She asks with wide eyes

“Are you serious” the boy scoffs “He’s a monster, a wicked, blood-thirsty monster. He’s better off alone. Anyways as I was saying…”

You had heard many of the tales of the castle nestles deep within the forest. Whether you believed them or not, you were still unsure. All you know, is that the castle exists and anyone who has ever step foot in the forest has not lived to tell the tale.

Now, at the age of 20, you stare out the window at the looming spires you can see just over the tree line from the window of the orphanage you work in. The orphanage you once called home- well, still called home. Your life had been nothing easy.

Since you can remember, you’ve lived within the walls of the orphanage. No family in the town wanted to adopt you, so, you found yourself staring out the window wondering what life was like in the rest of the world. What life would be like when you finally escaped this forsaken town.

Now, as you stumble into adulthood, you’re not sure if you ever will. You were smart enough, forced to quit high school halfway through to help the older women with the young kids at the orphanage.

As December came with the cold whisper of winter, things proceeded to go as they always did. That is, until the prized daughter of the mayor of your town disappeared into the woods one night. The mayor had decided enough was enough.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, we shall sacrifice a loyal town member, a pure member of our community to try and please whatever lays beyond the edges of the forest”

I pity the poor soul who’ll end up being sacrificed due to the madness of this town. You thought as you continued to clean.

What you didn’t expect, was to be the poor soul stood at the edge of the woods while the entire town beckoned her to step in. To walk the old path to the dark castle deep in the forest. But who were you kidding no cared for an unwanted orphan anyways

You held your head high and stepped onto the path. Faint footprints of the forests last victims still visible as you trudge through the cold. You don’t look back, you don’t cry, you just walk.

You keep your eyes ahead of you, bracing for whatever lies ahead of you. Eventually the footprints in the snow disappear. Maybe the last victim didn’t make it this far, or maybe the snow covered them. You opt to believe the second option in naive optimism.

The first gets thicker as you move further into the forest until you make it to the one place you never imagined you’d ever be. The castle.

In that instance you hear rustling behind you. As you turn around, the last thing you see is the movement of black fabric against the wind before the whole world goes dark.

࿎

It’s been 331 years and 90 days since you were taken away from him but who’s counting.

Jake is. Does he know what year it is? No. Does he know what month it is? No. Does he know what the date is? No. All he knows is it’s been

331 years and 90 days since you were taken from him.

331 years and 90 days since he’s vengefully killed every human who put you to death.

331 years and 90 days since he has felt any emotion other than hatred and anger.

You see to him, loving you was the easiest thing he’s ever done.

Having you by his side was more important to him than drinking human blood, than hearing the screams of fear and pain as he drained his victims, than having people cower at the mention of his name.

But you were gone…

And now here he is, banished to these woods where he can only feed on the few foolish humans who attempt to prove he doesn’t exist.

Very few animals live here anymore, he killed them all.

He lounges around the castle until the scent of his next meal hits his nostrils, he rushes to claim his next victim before returning the castle and waits around for the next one.

This has continued for years, probably centuries at this point, but again… who’s counting?

Here he is today, he could sense the presence of a large group of people outside the forest, maybe this time he’ll have a feast on his hands. He smirks at the thought. He decides to take his time with this one. Why not play with his food a little?

Well that was the plan, until he smelled something. A scent he hasn’t smelled in 331 years and 90 days.

it can’t be…

Before he knew it he was standing behind a young girl in a white cloak as she trudged along the path shivering in the cold with nothing but a lantern to light her way.

“Y/N” he whispers to himself

He continued to follow you silently as you continued on your way towards his castle. Your scent was intoxicating. It has taken every last bit of self control for him to not bring you into his arms and turn you for eternity as he should have over 300 years ago. But he resisted as he knew, you aren’t the same person he once loved.

As you reached the bottom of the palace steps, he stepped out of the shadows. He noticed your body trembling as your features have become pale due to the cold of the winter. In a blue of panic and impulse he rushed to you. The next thing he knew, your body had fallen limp in his arms.

He just sat there. On the steps of his castle with your body limp and cold in his arms. The image reminiscent of that day he lost you for what felt like an eternity.

He rushed inside the castle with you in his arms. He laid you gently on the bed in the bedroom he kept as his own (despite the fact that he doesn’t sleep). With panicked eyes and shaky hands he tended to you. Wrapped you warmly in the blankets and even lit a fire in the fireplace while surrounding the bed with candles to keep you warms.

Once he felt he had done enough, he sat on the floor next to the bed and help your hand in his as he stared at you. He wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms and hold you once again, but he knows that wouldn’t be fair to you, so he’ll wait. He’s waited an eternity to see you again, what’s a couple more hours until you wake up?

࿎

Hell. That’s where you’ve deemed you are. In the deep pits of hell. Your body sweating, your head throbbing. The first thing you see when you open your eyes is red. Red walls, red furniture, red blankets.

Where in the 50 shades am I…

You use your hands to help yourself sit up, or… you tried to. As you look to your left hand you see it’s being held… by another hand. When you trace the hand to its owner your met with the pale face and dark eyes of a man you’ve never seen before.

“Oh my god!” You immediately jump back

“No no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you…” he immediately stands up trying to reach out to you

“Don’t touch me!” You continue to back away from him until you reach the other end of the bed. You immediately stand up on wobbly legs

“Please sit back down. I’ll explain everything! your body is still recovering form the cold…” he says in a panicked manner.

You look into his eyes as you try to read him but you can’t. Yet for some reason, your mind is giving you no reason to not trust him and your heart… your heart is urging you to move closer to him.

You only partially listen to your heart as you sit back down on the edge of the bed.

“Who… who are you?” You ask

He sits next to you, leaving a reasonable amount of space before he answers.

“My name is Sim Jaeyun… but you can call me Jake... and I’m the vampire who resides in this forest.” He softly explains

Your breath hitches “so the stories were true…”

“Mmm” he hums in response

“So you’ve killed all those people… all this time… and I’m next…?” You don’t look at him as a tears trickles down your face. You know the answer already but you still asked.

“Yes… I did kill all of those people… but no… I’m not going to kill you” He says as he slightly inches towards you and reaches up to wipe your tears.

You slightly flinch at the contact of his hand on your face before your body subconsciously relaxes into his touch.

“Hey… look at me” he cups your face with both of his hands guiding you to look at him “I won’t kill you. I would never kill you. I can’t lose you… not again…” his voice trails off at the end

“…again…?“ Your head snaps up as you try to search his eyes for an answer

“I’ll explain that in time but… you need some warmer clothes and some food” he points to a bathroom behind you “there’s clothes in there for you. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen when you’re done” he smiles as he rises from the bed.

You almost want to pull his wrist back, missing to feeling of him being near you but you remind yourself this is a deadly vampire.

I’m the moment your stomach grumbles.

Well if he poisons me at least I’ll die with a full stomach

࿎

After changing into new warm clothes, you make your way to the kitchen. The smell guiding your nose to the spacious kitchen where you see Jake cooking… ramen?

“I didn’t know supernatural beings ate ramen? I thought you were bound to this forest?” You try to suppress a giggle

He whips his head around in surprise not hearing you approach despite his heightened senses.

“Oh! Uhhh… yes… well no… I’m not bound. I can leave the forest I’m just invisible to humans. They can’t see me… I can’t touch them” he scratches the back of his neck. You could’ve sworn that if he had blood running through his veins it would’ve rushed to his cheeks.

“It was the first thing I saw when I went to get food” he said sheepishly “if you don’t like it I can go get something else!” He rushes out.

You just laugh at this point. How are you supposed to believe this is the feared vampire that has terrorized your town for generations. This man who doesn’t look over 23 years old, who’s fumbling over making ramen for you… a monster…? There’s no way.

“W-what’s so funny” he says with a nervous smile

“There is no way in hell that you are the monstrous vampire everyone is afraid of… this has to be a prank” you turn around “okay guys! Jokes up! This was funny-”

You barely finish your sentence before your back comes in contact with the counter behind you. You wince slightly and when your eyes open again Jake’s face is hovering above your own adorning a devilish smirk.

“I wish I could prove you right darling…” he chuckles as you feel his breath fan your face “but unfortunately…” he lowers his head to whisper into your ear “I am the monster”

A shiver runs down your spine as you put your hands on his shoulder to support yourself as his head dips down to your neck.

“And I could kill you too…” your breath hitches as you finally feel the sharpness of his fangs graze your neck as his hand cradles your head to keep it in place “but I’ve waited too long to have you with me again”

He leaves a light kiss on your neck before lifting you up to sit on the counter with him in between your legs “so… you should get used to it my love…”

The next thing you know he’s off of you and back to tending to the ramen you had long forgotten about as you’re sat stunned on the counter.

“Now you should eat and get more of your strength back” he smiles at you as he sets a bowl down for you on the table.

You snap out of your daze and hop off of the counter to sit at the table and eat the ramen. You say nothing as your stomach takes over and you begin to eat. As you’re halfway through the bowl you notice he’s staring at you.

“What?” You say as you swallow the next bite.

He blinks out of his trance and clears his throat “oh… nothing”

You continue to eat as he glances at you. You know he’s trying to not stare at you but you decide to not ask about it quite yet and you focus on eating the delicious ramen in front of you.

࿎

After you’ve eaten Jake guided you back to the bedroom you were in earlier.

“You should sleep for now. You’re probably still recovering from the cold earlier” He goes back to the fireplace to tend to the fire to keep the room warm for you.

“How do you know my name…?” He freezes at your question

“W-well… you told me earlier… remember?” He says as he turns back to the fireplace

“No. I didn’t... also I’m not gonna be able to sleep if you don’t answer some of my questions so… why avoid it”

He sighs turning to you “fine… but please… just… ugh” he groans out “no questions until the end”

You nod. He gestures for you to sit on the bed and you do. He sits down with you taking a deep breath.

“I knew you a long time ago” he starts looking out the window. An unfamiliar light in his eyes.

“How long ago?”

“Over 300 years ago”

Your eyes widen at his answer

࿎

Your heart raced in your chest as you ran through the forest. Your lungs burning. You had stayed out far too late and now it was dark. You had to make it home by morning so your only option was to go through the forest by yourself in the dark.

Not far into your journey, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you. Without looking back you ran with everything you had. Unfortunately the light of the moon shining above you was obstructed by the thick trees and you tripped on a branch you had not seen.

“Well well… look what he have here…” a man chuckled from behind you.

You turn around and begin to back away seeing two men begin to close in

“No please!” You try to beg

“Look at her… she’s so scared. I bet her blood’s delicious” his tongue poking out to lick over the prominent fangs as the two of them immediately rush at you picking you up and pinning you to a tree

“No…” you flinch bracing to feel the pain but the next thing you know, their hands are off of you…

You look up and see another man fighting both of them off.

“Stop hunting in my territory if you know what’s good for you” he seethes

“Next time you won’t be so lucky Sim” one of the two men spat out as they both turn and in the blink of an eye disappear into the forest

The man they called Sim turned to face you. “Are you alright…”

You flinch back as he tries to approach you “please… just let me be on my way”

He says nothing as he scoops you up into his arms “hold on tight m’lady”

You obey as you lock your arms around his neck. You feel a breeze as he rushes through the forest with you in his arms. It’s all so overwhelming so you bury your head in his neck and close your eyes

“We’ve arrived darling…” he gently lets you down. You open your eyes and immediately recognize the entrance to your town.

“How-? I-I… Thank you sir-” You turn to properly thank him but he had disappeared as quickly as he had appeared in the first place.

You searched for weeks for him until one day you stumbled across his hut in the woods.

He did everything in his power to get you to stay away but you were stubborn. You showed up at the same time every Tuesday and Saturday and just like that… his undead heart began to yearn for you.

He had fallen in love with you. He knew he would do everything to keep you by his side. He loved you passionately as if you’d disappear at any moment until one night… you did.

He searched endlessly for you until he found your scent parked with the smell of… smoke?

“They hung you… someone accused you of witchcraft and that was the end of it…” he breathed out

“The day they took you from me… I vowed to never protect a human the way I had protected you…” you could sense the anger in his voice as he continued.

“I-I didn’t know what to do… I was so angry so I just killed. I killed and killed and killed. All of them-” his words were interrupted by a sensation he never thought he’d ever feel again for the rest of his cursed eternal life

Your soft, warm lips on his

But before he could kiss you back you had pulled away.

“Jake…” you look into his eyes with tears in your own as you hold his face in your hands.

You places on of his hands over your own as he looked into your eyes and for the first time in 331 years and 90 days, a tear slid down his cheek.

“Y-you were- are my everything… and they just took you away from me… I didn’t know what to do” you continue to hold his face in your hands as you wipe is tears as they fall.

You maneuver him to lay down on the bed as you lay with him resting your head on his chest. His arms immediately circle your waist.

“I can’t lose you again” he says as he buries his head into your hair.

“You won’t have to… they all probably think I’m dead…” you say with a hint of sadness lacing your tone.

“What to you mean… they would want to know you’re alive” he runs a hand through your hair

You shake your head as tears of your own form in your eyes “I was sacrificed… to you” you look up at him

You see an immediate shift in his features to anger “how dare they… those filthy humans… they should know better that one sacrifice wouldn’t have been enough anyways, I’ll kill them all some day-”

“Hey hey…” you cut him off “maybe it’s for the best…”

“Y/N… how is this for the best… don’t get me wrong, I’ve yearned for the day I could have you here all to myself for all of time but… that’s not fair to you. What about your family… friends…” he caresses you cheek as worry laced his tone.

“I don’t… have any… I’ve been an orphan my whole life Jake… I’ve been… alone my whole life”

He sits in silence. The anger coursing through his veins only gets stronger hearing you recount how lonely your life has been but he decides to say nothing about it this time. Instead… he utters the words he’s never uttered before…

“Let me turn you… my love. Spend an eternity here… with me…” he says with a kiss to your forehead as he gently caresses your waist where his arm lays.

You look at him. You’ve known this man for a matter of hours, he’s given you no reason to trust you because granting you the ability to keep your life… so why… why do you believe every word that comes off of his tongue. Why do you want to say yes and spend the rest of your life by his side cursed with eternity as you live out your days with him in the castle. Why do you want to let him turn you into the monster everyone believes him to be…

Maybe because… he never was a monster to you. Because you knew deep down as you heard the tales, the whispers of his name on the street… that there’s more to Sim Jaeyun. You’d spent your entire life alone… Jake had spent 331 years and 90 days alone. Maybe, just maybe, he’d make you as happy as he did in your supposed past life.

Your heart speaks before your brain has the chance to…

“Please… let me spend the rest of eternity with you.”

He brings you into a passionate kiss. You can feel every emotion flowing from him. The love he holds for you, the yearning he has felt all this time, the pain he’s felt due to you not being here with him, and the desperation to have you as close as possible.

As he turns your bodies to lay you onto your back he breaks the kiss and looks deep into your eyes

“I’ve waited for this day, for centuries… but I cannot undo it once it’s done my love…” he says as he caresses your cheek once again “are you sure you want this?” He asks searching your eyes.

You nod with a soft smile “Yes Jake… I’m sure”

He smiles before giving you a soft peck.

The next sensation you feel is like fire across every part of your body. It burns but it doesn’t hurt. The venom of his fangs sinking deep into your skin as you link your fingers with Jake’s in one hand and grasp onto his hair with the other. The sensation like nothing you could describe. It was uncomfortable yet soothing. It coursed through your veins until you felt across every inch of your body, and then all the sudden… everything went cold.

As Jake detached from your neck, you could see with blurred vision the blood dripping from his fangs before he rolled over to the side and pulled your back to his chest. With one last kiss to the back of your head he whispered

“Sleep for now my love, when you wake… you will be hungry…”

With that you let your eyelids close knowing that when you woke… Jake would be right there beside you, where he would remain for all of eternity.

This was like 10x more suggestive than I wanted to be so sowwy

tags: @chlorophylliaa

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

The Giver by Lois Lowry

At the age of twelve, Jonas, a young boy from a seemingly utopian, futuristic world, is singled out to receive special training from The Giver, who alone holds the memories of the true joys and pain of life.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Here are talented tomboy and author-to-be Jo, tragically frail Beth, beautiful Meg, and romantic, spoiled Amy, united in their devotion to each other and their struggles to survive in New England during the Civil War.

Charlotte's Web by E. B. White

Some Pig. Humble. Radiant. These are the words in Charlotte's Web, high up in Zuckerman's barn. Charlotte's spiderweb tells of her feelings for a little pig named Wilbur, who simply wants a friend. They also express the love of a girl named Fern, who saved Wilbur's life when he was born the runt of his litter.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini

When Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy; perhaps it will buy his family meat for the winter. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself.

Overnight his simple life is shattered, and he is thrust into a perilous new world of destiny, magic, and power. With only an ancient sword and the advice of an old storyteller for guidance, Eragon and the fledgling dragon must navigate the dangerous terrain and dark enemies of an Empire ruled by a king whose evil knows no bounds.

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman

Lyra is rushing to the cold, far North, where witch clans and armored bears rule. North, where the Gobblers take the children they steal--including her friend Roger. North, where her fearsome uncle Asriel is trying to build a bridge to a parallel world.

Can one small girl make a difference in such great and terrible endeavors? This is Lyra: a savage, a schemer, a liar, and as fierce and true a champion as Roger or Asriel could want--but what Lyra doesn't know is that to help one of them will be to betray the other.

The Maze Runner by James Dashner

If you ain’t scared, you ain’t human.

When Thomas wakes up in the lift, the only thing he can remember is his name. He’s surrounded by strangers—boys whose memories are also gone.

Nice to meet ya, shank. Welcome to the Glade.

Outside the towering stone walls that surround the Glade is a limitless, ever-changing maze. It’s the only way out—and no one’s ever made it through alive.

Everything is going to change.

Then a girl arrives. The first girl ever. And the message she delivers is terrifying.

Remember. Survive. Run.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

You'll meet a boy who turns into a TV set, and a girl who eats a whale. The Unicorn and the Bloath live there, and so does Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout who will not take the garbage out. It is a place where you wash your shadow and plant diamond gardens, a place where shoes fly, sisters are auctioned off, and crocodiles go to the dentist.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

A mysterious island. An abandoned orphanage. A strange collection of very curious photographs. It all waits to be discovered in Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, an unforgettable novel that mixes fiction and photography in a thrilling reading experience. As our story opens, a horrific family tragedy sets sixteen-year-old Jacob journeying to a remote island off the coast of Wales, where he discovers the crumbling ruins of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. As Jacob explores its abandoned bedrooms and hallways, it becomes clear that the children were more than just peculiar. They may have been dangerous. They may have been quarantined on a deserted island for good reason. And somehow-impossible though it seems-they may still be alive.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Mary Lennox, a spoiled, ill-tempered, and unhealthy child, comes to live with her reclusive uncle in Misselthwaite Manor on England’s Yorkshire moors after the death of her parents. There she meets a hearty housekeeper and her spirited brother, a dour gardener, a cheerful robin, and her wilful, hysterical, and sickly cousin, Master Colin, whose wails she hears echoing through the house at night.

With the help of the robin, Mary finds the door to a secret garden, neglected and hidden for years. When she decides to restore the garden in secret, the story becomes a charming journey into the places of the heart, where faith restores health, flowers refresh the spirit, and the magic of the garden, coming to life anew, brings health to Colin and happiness to Mary.

[ma1dita]

lovers, or partners in crime

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> if you need to be mean (be mean to me) | next -> love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke words: 2.1k summary: (post-tlt) The one where Annabeth and Percy think you're guilty too. You realize his betrayal a little too late, and he's left you looking like an accomplice. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader a/n: eye twitches drink water and take care luke nation (posted 2/2/24 & betad by ellie and lari ty ladies mwah @lixzey @mrsaluado )

—

Exhaustion creeps up on you slowly, then all at once.

It’s been a long week at Camp Half Blood—with trying to stop a war from starting between the cabins and praying to the gods that the trio can stop everyone’s godrents from destroying the balance of the world, you could say you were kept busy making sure the place doesn’t go up in flames. 

Taking orders from Chiron and your dad has been your daily routine from sunrise to sundown, and you were glad to have Luke’s arms to fall into at the end of the night. But you woke up alone this morning, and a heavy feeling in your chest that’s been plaguing you for a while now feels more prominent as you drag your boots across camp for another long day.

Exhaustion blinds us and dulls the senses, but so does love. Sometimes it was hard to tell which was taking effect.

How long were you willing to ignore the signs in front of you?

Maybe it was just another bad day. Your mind felt like it was playing tricks on you, still in a haze from Luke keeping you up the night before, the feeling of his touch still lingering in your pores—evidence of eyebags and lovebites carefully hidden under concealer. You find yourself almost walking in a dream state, before Katie calls out to you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Did you hear? Annabeth’s back. It’s all gonna be over soon,” she exclaims, and the both of you sigh in relief. You’d do anything to get this over with and take a long break. The idea of a long weekend with Luke somewhere, anywhere but here sounds like Elysium in comparison to what you’ve put yourselves through recently.

“You see Luke anywhere, Katie?”

She hums, her hand reaching out to fix some of the trampled foliage along the path, before she looks up at you, shaking her head.

“Not this morning, no. Maybe he’s with Annabeth?”

You nod thoughtfully, stretching your arms back to soothe the tension in your back. You’ll find him sooner or later, now that this is all over.

You always do.

—

“Clarisse stole the master bolt.” 

Your fingers wound themselves tighter around Luke’s at Percy’s declaration, but you can’t help but watch your boyfriend’s face closely as the rest of the conversation passes in the background. It’s been a weird day, to say the least—helping to set up for Percy’s celebration, and Luke being tightlipped and distant the whole while. You don’t think he’s actually said a single word to you since last night until he dragged you into his cabin to see Annie and Percy.

“Everyone was ready to join the war here. To start fighting each other. An accusation against Clarisse…” you reason awkwardly, more of a question than a statement. Standing here with your friends, you feel like the odd one out. How could you miss out on Clarisse being the lightning thief? But Luke looks at the two kids in front of you as determined as the devil himself.

He knew. 

He spares you a sidelong glance, a smile quirking up on the scarred side of his face.

When did Luke start making plans without you? 

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, tranquility comes off of you in waves; you barely notice that Luke drops your hand until you hear him speak again. 

“You’ve stopped the war. You’ve saved the world. Now, it’s safe to tell Chiron and finish cleaning up the mess. I told him we needed to meet him away from the celebration so we can talk without any of Clarisse’s supporters noticing.” Luke crosses his arms, trying to avoid the reach of your powers and your scorching stare while his gaze is sharp on Percy, and suddenly, the heavy feeling in your chest has a name, revealing itself as doubt. 

How could you be so stupid? 

Eyes don’t lie, even if Luke does, and you finally see through him, so much that you fear you’ve found his other side. 

Annabeth grabs your hand, your head whipping to look at her as she speaks, “We’ll keep an eye on Clarisse while you’re gone. Make sure she isn’t going anywhere.” You feel your body shake with paranoia as you start to question everything until the daughter of Athena pulls you back to the present. Taking quick steps out of cabin 11, you take a glance back at Luke, seeing him look glumly at you from the doorway, and it reminds you of a simpler time five years ago, with him standing in the same spot he introduced himself to you on his first day at camp. This time, you don’t walk away.

“I’ll find you later, I…I just need to talk to Luke real quick,” you say biting your lip hesitantly. Annabeth’s gaze is cold as steel as she nods, doubt now running through her as well as she watches you walk back to your boyfriend. You catch him by the arm as he tries to glide past you.

“Hey, are you okay?” You’re searching for an answer Luke will never give you, not out loud—as he dodges your glances, keeping a distance between you two. 

“Come on, I’ve gotta go,” he gruffs, anxiety running off of him in waves as his hands fidget at his sides. The sun is setting, and he needs to finish what he was told to do.

“We still have a bit of ti—” He interrupts you swiftly, “Not enough.”

“I know you’re always in charge around here, but not everything can go the way we want, you know?”

Your lips turn into a frown at his words, and you wonder who it is you’re talking to. Surely, not the boy whose arms you fell asleep in last night. You used to be able to figure him out so easily, but now… he’s acting like you’re an enemy. The banter he deals doesn’t usually make you feel like you’re at the short end of a stick, and though he’s right in front of you, it feels like his mind is already miles away. You’re desperate to hold onto whatever you can though, not wanting to let go of whatever’s plaguing him.

“Angelface. Look at me. Percy’s a hero, everything else will fix itself, why are you so—”

Luke sighs, blinking slowly, and you’re surprised when he pulls your hands to his chest, placing them under his camp beads, so you stop speaking. 

You never know when the last time is until it happens. You didn’t think it’d feel like this.

“I need to do this.” 

He’s not talking about turning in Clarisse anymore, and your body reacts before your mind does, surging forward to hug him. Your fingers run up the expanse of his back, the smell of citrus and musk being familiar but the discomfort in his embrace is not. From here, you can’t see his eyes, but his heart rate accelerates as he wounds his hands in your hair, pulling you closer until the space between you is nonexistent.

“Please,” he mumbles. 

Is it a request? 

The shock runs through your veins as you try to think of what to say next—Luke’s never been one to beg.

“I’d do anything to protect our home, Luke, you don’t have to convince me when it’s the right thing to do.”

Your name falls from his lips, almost like he disagrees with what you said, and then you realize he’s begging you.

He’s asking for your permission. He’s asking you to let him go.

“You’re my home, Trouble. You know that right? You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

You try to nod, try to pull away to look at him but he presses you harder into his embrace, like he knows he won’t have the chance again. It hurts, though not in the way you expect.

“L-Luke, you’re hurting me.” Your breath quickens as you try to unravel yourself from him, but you’re unsure where he ends and you begin.

“Just a little bit longer.” 

Your nose buries itself into his neck, and you realize he’s trembling, but you can’t figure out who’s scared, him or you? Voices are echoing in your head and it’s too loud; you clench your fists into his orange camp shirt. Why do you always need to see the proof to believe it’s real? Why do you have to wait until the damage is done?

“I have to do this, Trouble. Everything will change and there’s no other way— either we win or we die. Failure isn’t an option for me. Not again.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the dramatic one,” you mutter, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face the truth for a while more, “but I still love you, despite it.” 

Despite this.

A watery chuckle escapes you, and his hands are trembling as he pushes a strand of your hair back. He holds onto you more softly now, and whether you know it or not, it’s to make up for all the time he’ll have to go without holding you after this. Percy calls out to him in the distance and once Luke frees you from his arms, you wonder why it feels like you’re unraveling at the seams, slowly parting from him. The tether you have on each other loosens, and it’s hard to tell who is being freed, and who is letting go. Luke walks away wordlessly, curls bouncing in the brisk air without a second glance until you call out to him.

“I’ll find you!”

A threat disguised as a promise, you stand there in the middle of the path feeling exposed as the wretched little girl at your core, desperate to be loved, desperate to be enough. 

But it’s not enough for him to stay, now is it?

—-

The truth is, Luke broke your heart before you even lost him, by hitting you where it hurts— he hit home. Camp Half-Blood has always been the one place you’ve known as home, and even if you claim to hate it—you’d die protecting it if that’s what was needed of you. You stay vigilant next to Annabeth, who looks up at your unusually quiet demeanor, and you feel like you have to confess to a crime that you didn’t commit.

“Luke’s leaving camp.”

She nods stiffly without answering you, wondering if you know about what else he’s done, too. Unlike you though, she’d rather find out before the damage is done.

The sun had set an hour ago, and fireworks were going off in the distance, everyone celebrating a hero’s return. You noticed Clarisse still sitting around the campfire with her siblings, Chiron still present and watching the festivities, and what had to be your last straw was noticing Annabeth had disappeared from your side. So you do what you do best, chase after Luke, and hope that you’re not too late.

Your breath heaves as you run through the dark forest without a single plan in mind and hoping, just hoping that no one’s hurt. You run faster towards the sound of swords clanging against each other, two figures illuminated by the fireworks in the distance.

What you didn’t expect to see was Luke’s sword pointed at an injured son of Poseidon sprawled out in the dirt.

“Percy!” your voice yells out shakily, your instincts kicking in as the truth is laid out in front of you, something darker and much worse than anything you could’ve imagined. Blue light illuminates the scarred side of your boyfriend’s face as he turns to look at you with shimmering eyes, and you see Annabeth with her sword raised at…the both of you.

Is this what love is… looking at a person who’s hurt you and still hoping they’re alright? You’re exhausted, wondering how long he’s been lying to your face—while he holds you, kisses you, and takes your pain away… and it all amounted to feeling guilty for letting his deception slip through your fingers and hurting the people you love. 

Luke’s scar you used to compare to a bolt of lightning now looks like a tear cascading from regret. And perhaps he does regret this, losing Annabeth and losing you, but he never turns back on his word once he’s made a decision. 

This one was just made without you. 

There’s a moment where everything goes silent despite the booming in the sky and you both take one last good look at each other, and Percy and Annabeth are unsure if you two look like forlorn lovers, or partners in crime.

“Castellan…”

His face hardens again at the wavering sound of your voice, almost unrecognizable in the dim light, and you know now that this is it. You’ve always been convinced that a love like the one you and Luke share is tailor-made and stitched together by the Fates. But the strings are cut, and like Atropos, he’s the one holding the scissors.

The last thing you see are his dark eyes and how he turns to run away, headfirst into a future without you. 

For a second you could’ve sworn they flashed gold.

—

“I wanted to hurt you

 but the victory is that I could not stomach it.” 

 -Richard Siken

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[reader-wandering18]

Yuu Hunter x Hunter

Strange beasts and monsters. Vast riches, hidden treasures. Terrible places, unexplored frontiers. Mysterious and unknown.

People who are drawn to the magic of those words are known as HUNTERS.

Yuu Freecs, a boy from a vast, cruel and mysterious world, came to Twisted Wonderland.

What was a boy doing at Night Raven College?

Freecs' adventures leave his friends speechless. His kind personality reaches out to all students, including those who are not human.

The first time he arrived at Night Raven College was a moment that surprised everyone at that prestigious institution.

— A child? — Why did the dark mirror bring a child?

— Say your name.

— AMAZING, A TALKING MIRROR!

His surprise and excitement were reflected on his face. The scream he gave let the most observant ones see that he was someone curious and full of energy.

— Another Cheka — Leona sighed tiredly

— What kind of gel use to keep your hair like grass? — Vil commented upon seeing his black hair with green tips. He felt like combing it himself.

If someone young like him was at Night Raven College, it was because he had really powerful magic, right?

Wrong. That child does not contain even a pinch of magic. Many could not believe it and others made fun of him, but the boy did not appear expressionless or scared.

— Magic? JUST LIKE IN THE FAIRY TALES MY AUNT MITO TOLD ME?! I'm really sorry I don't have anything like that big mirror! But I use something very different than magic!

He seemed strangely excited.

— Waaa that boy really has a lot of energy, he's the worst enemy of an introvert like me — Idia had said scared through his tablet.

After that revelation a cat burst into the room. Demanding Yuu's place.

— That cat also talks!

— I'm not a cat!

— Is that so? So you're a magical animal? Mmm I remember Kurapika told me that magical animals can talk. But you don't look like a Kiriko at all.

— What are you talking about kid? I am the great and powerful Grim!

The place caught fire and everyone started running and screaming. Among all the most outstanding was Kalim who got his butt burned. While the other dorm leaders were discussing who should catch the cat, suddenly, that boy appeared in front of them.

— Take it

— Nyaaaaa Let me go!

— !!

The dorm leaders were surprised to see Yuu in front of them when a moment ago he was in the center of the room. And in his hands he held Grim wrapped in Kalim's robe that was previously burning.

Even Kalim looked confused. Yuu appearing behind him, said he would borrow his robe and took it off without any difficulty.

— Sorry, I don't know how to extinguish the fire. Catching it was the only thing I could do.

That year would be very interesting.

In the dwarf mine, Ace, Deuce, Yuu, and Grim were resting on the outskirts of that place due to the mysterious appearance of an ink monster that forced them to retreat. Ace, Deuce, began to fight when Yuu's scream made them shut up.

— Don't worry!

They both saw how the child stood up with great determination on his face.

— They won't be expelled, I won't allow it. His dream is to study at that school. Right? If we work as a team we can beat him. Also, I can't allow you to disappoint your mother — Yuu said looking at Deuce — it must be very important to you as it is to me to look for my father.

Yuu's innocent smile made both young men leave for some strange reason strongly hit… in their ego. How could I let a child save their skin? That would be extremely humiliating!

In the end, they all returned to school with the magic stone in their hands. Thanks to teamwork.

— Being appointed supervisor at such a young age and just entering is a great achievement!

— Is-Is that so?

— Why do you look so nervous? You seem so confident when we were in the mine.

— It's just that… it's my first time in school

—……WHAT?!

Yuu explained to them how she came from another world and lived on an island called Whale Island. There was only one other child on the entire island but he didn't play with her. She never went to school but studied at home with the help of her aunt Mito.

— Hey, now that I remember. In the mine you mentioned your father, right? — Grim asked

— Or yes, he left me when I was a baby. I'm looking for him.

— Are you looking for him? Your dad left you, why do you want to go look for him?!

At that Yuu stopped which made the two teenagers who were after him do so as well. He turned around and they both noticed that in Yuu's gaze there was nothing like remorse for being abandoned. On the contrary.

There was a great curiosity in his gaze.

— My father is a hunter. I also became one, to look for him and to know the world that he chose instead of taking care of me.

Yuu smile while mentioning his father.

— Hunter?

— Hello!

— …Hello

Malleus was in Ramshackle taking his usual walk. He appeared in the dormitory as usual, but was surprised by a child who took him completely off guard the moment he appeared.

He had heard from Lilia about the arrival of a human child without magic at the school. Which surprised him. But he didn't expect to see him in the abandoned dormitory.

The child smiles at him

— My name is Yuu, Yuu Freecss! It's a pleasure!

Yuu extended his hand to what Malleus saw without being able to believe what the child was doing. But it was rude not to greet, so he shakes hands with the small human child.

— … Aren't you afraid of me?

— Mmm, It's true that your aura is strong, but I don't feel a level of threat like Hisoka.

— What are you talking about? I don't know that Hisoka… Don't you know who I am?

— No, I'm sorry. — said the boy somewhat embarrassed.

His reaction seemed genuine, there was nothing like malaise or fear. It reminded him in a way of Silver when he was younger.

— Do you live here?

— Yes, along with a cat named Grim

With each answer that Malleus gave him he could see it. That boy seemed to have so much energy.

— I see. It's a pity, I liked to take night walks around here since it's very quiet. But I guess I'll have to look for another place.

— Seriously, I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to take away your place to explore!

Yuu shouted while bowing in apology, that causes Malleus to become more curious about the human child.

— It's okay, it's not your fault that you live here. Well, I'll take my leave.

— Wait a moment.

But Malleus had disappeared in a bunch of bright lights.

— Wow, that’s amazing — Yuu said, catching one of those lights in his hands.

— I couldn’t ask him his name.

Malleus appeared in another part of the school. He felt a little dejected that his favorite place was occupied, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t get that kid out of the place. He looked up to see how high the moon was until he remembered.

— Now that I think about it. Lilia said that humans should sleep to have energy the next day, or they will have health problems. But that human child was awake at this time.

While, outside the dormitory, Yuu was practicing his NEN.

My Hunter x Hunter fever came back!

The first time I saw it I was very young, two or three years younger than the main characters, time has passed and now I'm older than them buuuu 😭.

Gon is my number one main character. With that personality that I met at the beginning of the anime it was love at first sight. I'm sure that if I met Malleus they would be great friends because you know. Gon being Gon.

This anime was my second Shonen and the only one I managed to stay faithful to until today. No matter the years, for me Hunter x Hunter will be the best anime.

YES YOU CAN TOGASHI!

This idea started with a fanfic of the boys' reaction to a Yuu from different worlds, including Hunter x Hunter. I liked it so much that when I wanted to read it again I realized that they had deleted the fanfic :'v that was found on Wattpad. To get that thorn out of my side I had decided to do this. I'm thinking about whether to make more parts or not. In case you noticed, I'm a person with a lot of ideas, but I never manage to finish a story.