#so as far as superhero ridiculousness goes

[saphirus]

Madame Web may be a ridiculous movie but it has one thing all the past mcu movies don't: good cinematography.

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

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 ♡

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Clockwork sees how stressed Danny is from trying to be the goodest boy and never do anything remotely bad that could turn him evil and thinks he may have overdone it. At this rate his panic over never doing anything evil is going to force him to emotionally burn out and stop caring. Then he'll turn evil anyway.

So Clocky does something that sounds completely ridiculous in theory. He scoops Danny up and drops him into a universe full of superheros and villains and tells him to "Do whatever you want. There will be no consequences for you." Then he leaves.

And just like that, Danny goes apeshit. He decides to do the one thing he always wanted to do but was too afraid to because he didn't want to be judged, or worse, forced to join his parents.

He becomes a supervillian. Not as Phantom, no. But as Fenton! He goes full super genius mad scientist and terrorizes whatever city he's in. The local superhero is being driven insane as Danny builds death rays, shrink rays, his own modified version of the GAV, ect.

The best part if that the local heros can never catch him for long and when he is caught he always escapes before he is transported to whatever facility they wanted him in. He always ends up back in his home dimension where he goes back to acting normal and no one from either human dimension or the Infinite Realms knows what he's up to (except the stop watch of course)

After a particularly fun day in which Danny highjacks all broadcasting services to teach everyone in the world how to make insulin at home so you didn't have to pay a ridiculous amount for necessary medication, the Justice League was now on his tail.

Danny just laughs, thinking there's no way they'd ever be able to arrest him. Little does he know some guy calling himself Batman is leading the mission and he has no intention of arresting him. Danny, much to his horror, becomes far to familiar with adoption papers. As in he keeps having to set them on fire.

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Idea by @impyssadobsessions where Jazz needs a personal trainer from a gotham hero and chooses red hood. Eventual ship content. This is more of a setting so far but i have ideas. I accept ideas too, im just balling

I'm going to try a more chill and lax posting with this bad boy. I feel like my rigid way of organizing is making me feel restricted so this will be 1000% vibes and let's see where it goes.

Part 2

---

Jazz knew this was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Suicidal, maybe, depending on who would answer her call. But she still had to try.

You may be wondering how a twenty something young woman ends up following Gotham heroes around with a notepad. She wasn’t looking for an autograph, or for the latest scoop on the heroes, trying to uncover their secrets.

She was actually writing down their patterns and observations in behavior, trying to map their patrol routes and create a decent enough file and expectations of the heroes.

What did she need the information for?

She needed a personal trainer.

No, not the kind you hire at the gym. She already tried that and it didn’t work. She also tried MMA, and kickboxing and just to see if she could do it, Judo. All were interesting and gave her a pretty good picture of what her body was capable of, and a guesstimate of her physical limitations.

But no. She needed something else, something more… tailored for what she actually needed the training for.

She needed to intern with a hero. The term “sidekick” felt wrong for what she had in mind, since she didn’t want to be that hero’s trainee forever. Or was interested in the current superhero scene at all. They were doing just fine without her.

She just… she felt left out. Danny was amazing but he didn’t need her, not as much as she would have liked. He was a hero, and a pretty good one, but he wasn’t in any place to train her. Not that he wanted to, since he usually avoided her every time she brought it up.

Her baby brother was all grown up and he didn’t need his older sister anymore. 

Jazz shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Danny would always need her — she just needed to do her homework and keep up with him on her own. If she just trained enough and could hold her own in ghost fights, she was sure Danny would be grateful and appreciate her support. Who knows, maybe he would be happy that he didn’t need to be wary of ghosts day and night, and actually rest and focus on his neglected studies.

She yawned, lamenting another night that looked to be a bust. Maybe the heroes were busy tonight? Maybe they were on a big mission away? Unlikely that all of them were away, there were usually at least a few of the Bats flying around the city.

Why Gotham, you may ask? Of all the funny-dressed crime fighters on Earth, why these people? 

Easy.

They were human.

That piqued Jazz’s interest. She had been between the Arrows and the Bats, but finally chose the Bats because Gotham had one perk over Star City: unlimited supply of ectoplasm. The place was almost as coated in the thing as Amity, which she was grateful for. It saved her from going back and forth to places rich with ghost activity and fishing blobs to eat.

Don’t ask too many questions about the consuming blob ghosts part. It was a necessary evil.

However, it’s been a few months and all she got to show for her efforts was a notepad filled with scribbles she painstakingly copied to her computer and a lot of frustration.

Until one night she caught Red Hood alone as he checked his phone. She waited until he was done texting — she had manners thank you very much — and jumped in front of him before he had the chance to grapple away.

“Hi— oof.” 

Thanks the ancients for her reflexes and Judo training, she blocked Hood's punch and following kick. It would probably bruise but it wasn't the end of the world.

“What the fuck?” 

“Hi,” she tried again, “I'm Jazz.”

He didn't punch her again, which she took as a good sign. Instead, he took a step back and squared up like he was expecting a fight.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he scoffed but let her continue speaking, “I’m looking for… I guess you’d call it a mentor? That sounds weird… A personal trainer? No, that’s wrong too. Hm, I wonder if there’s a word for ‘person who is the only one that can teach you very specific information in a field of interest that legally, or otherwise—’.”

Red Hood cleared his throat, making her jump.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? I am real.”

Hood looked at her in silence for a few moments. Then, he sighed and rubbed one gloved hand against his helmet. 

“Listen, girl.”

“Jazz!”

“Jazz,” somehow she got the impression he grumbled, but the voice modulator did its job really well, “I have things to do, ok? Crimes to stop and stuff. So… yeah. Goodnight.”

He turned around and picked the grapple gun from inside his jacket.

“Wait!” 

He jumped and misfired the gun, hitting the wall of the building instead of the roof, like he was supposed to. As the gun recalled the rope, he looked over his shoulder at her. Jazz understood he was glaring at her, she could feel the daggers on her skin.

“Hear me out, ok?” He didn’t move or said anything. “I need— I have tried hiring a trainer, at… back at the gym. You know? But that wasn’t enough. I think I need to train with an actual hero—”

“Listen,” the word was accompanied by the hook of the grapple clicking into place, “whatever it is you are looking for, you definitely are not going to find it with me. So. Scramble.” 

He made a shooing gesture with one hand and aimed the gun without looking, shooting it and amazingly enough, hitting the edge of the rooftop. He made a salute as he was launched to the air at high speed.

Jazz didn’t follow, mesmerized by the skill. Hood landed with a flip and without breaking momentum, started running to the next rooftop, jumping impossible lengths. The way he moved was confident, powerful and measured.

She wanted to do that. She needed Red Hood to train her.

---

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[hard-core-super-star]

bare your soul 'til it's naked [C.Danvers]

pairing: sub!carol danvers x dom!reader

summary: you and carol experiment with switching up your usual roles and accidentally discover something new.

warnings: SMUT -> minors, don't look [porn with feelings; bondage; strap-on sex; an exploration of carol's submissive side; strapwarming; a dash of denial; carol's praise kink goes brr; captain kink because duh]

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: no, i didn't disappear for like all of november, what are you talking about?? anywho, this happened and...i have no reason or explanation for it lmao. also, i'm not even going to pretend to be an expert on dom/sub dynamics but just labeling carol as a bottom felt wrong considering the more...intense route this took. ANYWAY, usual,"this is my first time writing for this character, please give me validation if you liked it," warning applies.

* * * * * * *

It had started as a joke.

You had told Carol how unfair it was that her superhuman abilities always led to her overpowering you after she had effortlessly picked you up and plopped you down onto the couch to stop you from washing the dishes. It had been an almost nonsensical joke that the blonde took a little too seriously. 

It’s not something that genuinely bothers you, in fact, you love how quick Carol always is to pick you up and carry you everywhere. However, you had mentioned how much you’d love to have a turn at being in charge for once and your girlfriend took it upon herself to give you exactly what you wanted. (Like usual) 

You weren’t sure why she was so dead set on doing this, especially considering how much she loves having the upper hand all the time, and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her to change her mind. Mainly because you’d have to be an actual fool to deny her anything but also because there’s been a look in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher that was born from the mere thought of switching roles for once.

So, your one meaningless joke had earned you a sight you’d never thought you’d see: Carol Danvers naked and bound on your bed.

It should be ridiculous. She’s a goddamn superhero, for crying out loud, she could easily rip apart those ropes like nothing. And yet…she remains motionless. You’d go far enough to call her stoic if it weren’t for the smirk she hasn’t yet wiped off of her face.

You both know the massive amounts of power she holds inside herself and she still chooses to pretend. To give in to the fantasy. To act like you truly hold all the cards when she’s the one with literal superpowers. 

Your girlfriend huffs as she watches you admire her toned body and the intricate knots that hold her in place. She’s been sitting in the same position for what feels like hours, with her hands tied around her back and her legs spread open, showing off the strap attached to her hips.

“You gonna do something or just stare?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” you reply, shamelessly staring at her jawline while she throws her head back and groans.

“I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t touch me right now.”

You’re tempted to just walk away like she’s done to you countless times but you have other, more important, ideas on your mind. 

You approach her in two quick steps, smiling at the way her eyes literally light up before tangling your fingers in her blonde hair and gently pulling. You’re rewarded with the sound of her gasp and you can practically see the way her veins pop out as she clenches her fists. 

“I think you’re forgetting our deal, Captain,” you whisper. “I’m in charge, you just have to sit there and behave.”

She lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of seconds. You don't know if it's the hair-pulling or the use of the title that affects her so much but it’s obvious her reluctance melts away in an instant…which means your need to have her begging for you increases tenfold in that same instant.

“Are you going to need a reminder, baby?”

A long second of silence goes by before your girlfriend gives in. You’re more than willing to wait for her, especially once her eyes open again and you’re able to make out the specks of bliss that make her eyes sparkle more than usual. “No…I’ll behave.”

“Good girl,” you hum.

The whine that escapes her doesn’t reach your ears but the way her hips buck is more than noticeable and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out and wrapping your hand around the large toy. The fact that it’s fake doesn’t stop Carol from thrusting into your hand and she looks far too good for you to even think about making her stop.

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to tease her, though.

“Are you needy already, babe? I haven’t even done anything.”

“Maybe that’s why,” she replies, attempting to hold on to some of her usual snarkiness.

Something that would be more effective if she wasn’t bucking her hips in search of some friction. 

The calm and controlled persona she so easily wears out on the field starts to slip and with it comes the barrage of thoughts that never allow her to give up control. It’s subtle but the sparkle in her eyes can’t erase the furrowing of her eyebrows or the tension in her muscles. 

That desperation that makes her thrust up into your hand isn’t unfamiliar. Her need to give in to it is.

So, you do the only thing you know will help her focus on the moment instead of on her unspoken fears. 

“Carol.” Her name leaves your lips as a mere whisper, the grip you have on her hair loosening just enough for the change to register in her unfocused mind.

She takes a deep breath before lifting her eyes up to look at you. You expect her to pull the plug on this whole thing, to put her walls back up and call it a day, but she doesn't. She does the exact opposite and leaves your mind spinning in the process.

“I need you.” The hushed tone she speaks in does nothing to hide her desperation. It’s not the kind you’re used to, though. It’s less about the physical and more about the emotional. It’s about the stability she’s always looked for but has never found in all the countless planets she’s visited. 

The only place she’s found it in all her life is with you.

The second the thought enters your mind, you climb onto her lap, momentarily forgetting about the new dynamic you're forging and merely focusing on your vulnerable girlfriend. Despite your urge to help ground her, you can’t help but notice the way her hips instantly buck once again.

You still decide to wait, though, much to the blonde’s dismay.

“What do you need from me, Captain?”

“Need you…” She trails off and you half expect that to be the end of it until she continues a second later. “Need you to own me…use me…please.”

There’s no doubt in your mind of the strength it took for her to get the words out which only adds fuel to the fire burning in your core. A fire made up of desire, trust, and so much lust it could fill a small planet.

“As you wish,” you mumble before finally giving both of you what you really want.

Carol’s eyes watch you closely while you grip the toy attached to her hips and slowly tease your entrance with it. She technically can’t feel anything yet but she still takes every second in, rotating her hips in an attempt to bring you as much pleasure as she can.

You leave the dildo soaked in less than a minute and the sight of your girlfriend’s abs contracting with every movement does nothing to satisfy your growing desire. Your body shifts until you’re hovering over Carol’s dark blue strap, pretending like you can’t see the way she attempts to slam herself inside your already fluttering walls.

“You wanna fill me up, Captain? Is that what my good girl wants?”

It’s like a switch is instantly flipped inside her brain. Like everything else disappears until she’s left hanging onto your every word. She’s never been like this with someone else, much less felt like this. Felt such an intense devotion that she genuinely longs to submit to every one of your wishes and commands.

You could tell her to jump and she’d leap into the air without a second thought, ropes be damned.

She nods rapidly. “Yes! Yes, I want to fill you up so bad. Please, y/n.”

“If only your little Avengers friends could see you now, all tied up and desperate for me…” You trail off as you sink down onto her, relishing in the unashamed moans she can’t hold back.

You know how much she loves fucking you in this position and you also know how crazy it’s making her that she can’t control your speed. She can’t control anything in this moment. Not the speed of your movements, not the sounds she makes, not the unrelenting bucking of her hips.

The power rests in your hands despite how much of it runs through her veins.

“Fuck-” Your groan brings her back to reality. “You’re so good for me.”

Carol stares at you with wide eyes, plump lips parted just enough to allow all her sinful sounds to slip out unrestricted. Her entire world revolves around you, around the pleasure only she can give you…even when she's not allowed to touch you.

It would be so easy for her to break free, you both know that, and yet somehow, her choosing to remain trapped beneath you makes everything feel ten times stronger than usual. 

Maybe that's what makes the coil in your stomach tighten faster than usual or maybe it's the way the blonde can't stop herself from messily thrusting up into your drenched cunt and burying her strap inside of you.

You’re both lost in each other, your nails digging into her shoulder in search of some stability while she works tirelessly to bring you to new heights. Heights she couldn’t even dream of reaching despite her love for flying.

“y/n,” she mumbles. “Please, I want- I need you.”

“Yeah? You wanna cum already, Captain?”

She shakes her head, the thinnest layer of tears gathering in her stormy eyes. “No, I want to make you cum. Please, can I?”

The mere question has you clenching around the toy but it’s the devoted look that’s plastered onto her face that makes you fall apart. For that brief moment, she’s not Captain Marvel, she’s not an Avenger, she’s just the woman you love more than anything else in the universe, the woman who loves you enough to trust you like this.

You fall over the edge without warning which triggers an avalanche of feelings inside Carol. The two of you slump into each other in a mess of shaking limbs and hoarse voices that cry out the other’s name.

It’s messy and loud and perfect.

It’s unclear how much time you both spend in the throes of your powerful orgasms but when you finally come back to yourself, you find your girlfriend’s face buried into the crook of your neck, trails of salty tears staining her warm cheeks. It takes you another second to realize what she’s mumbling but the second the words register, all your worry melts away.

“I love you-” It comes out more like a broken sob than a beautiful confession but you don’t mind. 

You gently run your fingers through her messy hair, silently watching the shudders that your affection creates. “I love you too. You’re perfect, Carol.”

She doesn’t reply but she also doesn’t argue. She just stays in your arms, basking in the feeling of being loved.

Of finally being home.

[physalian]

Writing Tone #2: Avoiding Manufactured Sincerity

There’s a scene in season 5 of My Hero Academia where two beloved teachers have been brought to some high security prison to interrogate a captured villain that turns out to be a brainwashed childhood friend of theirs. The scene is really dramatic, these two teachers are screaming at this guy, heartbroken, and when I saw the episode (shortly before quitting the entire show mid-episode over how bored I was) I was not at all as outraged and horrified as they were.

It was so tonally jarring, and so unfounded within the plot, that it was almost uncomfortable to watch. The villain they’re interrogating isn’t unfamiliar, but the plot-twist-surprise childhood friend is a stranger no one but these two care about.

I didn’t care, couldn’t empathize with why they were upset, knew nothing about their relationship with the guy beyond the ham-handed flashbacks given right that moment. I wasn’t prepared to mourn the loss of this random character, wasn’t primed ahead of time with the idea that this was a possibility to dread the scene before it happened. I was just waiting for it to be over and when it finally was, the impact it had on me was a resounding: Well that was weird. Now back to the plot.

Unfounded sincerity is the uncomfortably ugly step-sibling of plots that are starved of sincerity—look at most of Phase 4, but really, starting with Thor: Ragnarok in the MCU. Many Marvel properties are afraid to embrace the emotional moments and resort to bad jokes to laugh at themselves before the audience can laugh at them. Because how dare a late-stage superhero story about mythical gods be at all sincere in its relationships, its quiet moments, its tragedies. Nope, time for jokes.

Unfounded sincerity is when a story goes far harder with the drama, the love-declarations, the angst, the humor, where it’s trying really hard to convince the audience to care and it just isn’t working.

This happens when arguments start out of nowhere, as well, when characters explode at each other in a heated screaming match that hasn’t been left to fester for nearly long enough, undercooked and hard to swallow.

This happens when characters fall suddenly, madly in love with each other with zero dubious intervention to explain away the sudden passion.

It happens particularly when characters care a whole heck of a lot about someone the audience doesn’t, at the expense of characters the audience is invested in.

It happens when characters have emotional breakdowns and start crying over what ends up reading like spilled milk. When stoic and strong characters break over something they normally would never, for ~drama~.

This is usually both a tone and pacing issue, and a serious case of telling. The author hasn’t done any of the work ramping up a situation or relationship for proper delivery of these emotionally charged moments that are written like critical character beats we’re supposed to care deeply about.

So how does this happen?

1. The author *really* wants this scene, but writes it too early into the story

Unless there’s foul play involved, or this is a romantic comedy that isn’t supposed to be a realistic and healthy depiction of how romance works, characters suddenly declaring love for each other at the cost of their own well-being, their own character arc and journey, and their other motivations can be very frustrating to read.

But the author wants to get to the Good Stuff, so they coast on the “male + female leads = relationship” expectation without writing the why (and so ensures the rise of so many gay ships in the process). Or the male + male leads” or what have you.

2. The author cannot fluidly change tone and characters explode, instead of simmer

An argument that comes out of nowhere can really take your audience out of a scene. Your characters suddenly look ridiculous and your audience can’t follow what’s going on or why they’re so upset. This is different than a character exploding seemingly out of nowhere, but who we know has been building resentment for dozens of pages and loses it over something otherwise inconsequential.

These scenes are painfully, obviously there for manufactured drama and don’t feel natural. These characters don’t feel like people, but playthings, action figures manipulated by the hands of the author.

3. The characters involved are underdeveloped

As in the My Hero scene mentioned above, of the three characters in the scene, the “friend” we’re supposed to care about is a non-entity. The two teachers could have lost their minds over this guy’s sudden death, or the reveal that he turned traitor, or that he murdered younglings and puppies and kittens, to the same emotional impact, because we don’t care about this guy (or, I don’t, at least. I didn’t, and shouldn’t have to read the manga).

You can of course have characters who grieve non-entities, like the fridged wife trope. The difference is the audience knows we’re not supposed to know or care about that lady and the character she never was. This happens pre-plot, not mid-season 5. The frigid wife is the catalyst for the character we then come to know, not a character whose death radically changes our heroes from the people we’ve already established.

4. The tonal jump is just too extreme from the established rules of the story

Abrupt changes in tone can be very tricky to pull off, and almost always fail when it surrounds an abrupt shift in character dynamics (as opposed to something more plot-related). As in, your lighthearted comedy suddenly stops the plot so two characters can scream at each other, when this level of emotional charge hasn’t been established as a possibility.

Or the aforementioned emotional breakdown that just leaves audiences uncomfortable like the awkward friend trying to soothe a weeping companion.

—

Unfortunately, the fixes to these situations are either delete that entire scene, or go back and do a lot of rewriting so there’s enough build-up to justify its existence. Go back and write in that simmering resentment, all the little frustrations, a pre-existing tension within the relationship that is always primed to snap.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and there’s a reason the “slowburn” is so popular. Setting out from the beginning to write a fast-paced, passionate romance tells your readers to expect exaggerated displays of emotion.

My favorite musical is Moulin Rouge. This movie is insane. Everyone is hyperbolically emotional and nothing is half-assed. The dances, the belting singing, the costumes, set-design, editing, the declarations of love– they’re all dialed up to 11. So characters screaming their love or rage from the rooftops is a *lot* but you’re prepared for it from the opening scene, knowing exactly what kind of movie this is.

Even if you don’t start your story with the level of drama it will eventually reach, there should still be some sort of progression when it comes to character drama.

Last Airbender didn’t open episode 2 with the emotional intensity of Zuko and Azula’s last Agni Kai… but it did show you that this isn’t just a lighthearted comedy in episode 3, with the reveal of Gyatso’s body and Aang’s violently emotional reaction.

Speaking of episode 3, they didn’t throw in Gyatso out of nowhere. We know from the show so far that a) Aang is the last of his kind, and b) he doesn’t know this. Everything leading up to this reveal is lighthearted, sure, but with that undercurrent of dread, waiting for Aang to see for himself, waiting for that other shoe to drop.

So some things to keep in mind are:

Prime the audience with dropping that first shoe, make them aware of the building tension (romantic, aggressive, grief, or otherwise), even if not all the characters are aware.

Build that tension. If your characters will eventually explode, let them be mildly irritated first, then annoyed, then frustrated, then angry, then raging until they can’t contain it anymore.

Make sure every party involved in this dramatic moment is someone the audience actually cares about, not just someone they’re told to care about.

TL;DR: Don’t pull the trigger prematurely. It’s most obvious with suddenly passionate arguments, characters flinging insults and hurts the audience isn’t prepared for and doesn’t know about, in effort to move the plot along before it’s fully cooked.

So unless there’s some drugs or fairy magic involved, or one of these characters has a gun to their head forcing them to do this right now, people don’t just explode in a rage without some buildup first. People can explode in a rage over a seemingly inconsequential and unrelated thing, but they’re likely already upset and this one little thing is the final straw. Audiences love the anticipation of what that final straw will be, and whether the explosive drama is rage or romance, “slowburn” is immensely popular for a reason.

[tossawary]

A handful of random thoughts about the "Ultraman: Rising", with some vague, marked spoilers here and there:

I like the fact that they didn't explain kaijus or where Ultraman came from. After so many superhero origin stories where we have to be slowly introduced to the existence of the supernatural, it's refreshing to get dropped in the middle of a "second-gen" (unclear how many generations of Ultramen exist in this universe so far) superhero's story. The movie isn't apologizing for its genre or its premise. It just goes, "Yeah, you know what a superhero is and what a kaiju is, so let's go already. No, we're not even really going to explain how Ultraman's powers work. That's not what this is about!!! It it about our protagonist's daddy issues!!! Keep up!!!"

If I think about the world building, I do have some questions, like who built the protagonist's fancy tech house that's also a superhero base, but it's not too important. I assume his dad built it and then moved out to give his kid space? OR: "Why do the kaijus seem to attack this place specifically?" This movie works mostly because it's like "this is classic superhero stuff and we're just not dwelling on the logistical setup too much"! It leaves you to fill in some blanks on your own or just suspend your disbelief, which works.

The pacing was a little weird in places and the movie does get a little ridiculous in parts, I'm never quite sure of what the capabilities of these characters are, but it's a superhero vs. kaiju animated movie and that's to be expected. I still enjoyed myself well enough.

A few of the character designs didn't super work for me, like the big-headed kid characters. The kaiju baby is maybe a little too cutesy, but she was very cute and I've forgiven them because they didn't shy away from babies being gross. (There is... A LOT of baby kaiju vomitting.)

I did really like some of the other character designs. I liked the protagonist's big nose and pierced ears and bangs falling in front of his sharp face; he looks like such a dirtbag pretty boy. I like the lean in the industry right now towards more stylized and geometric 3D character designs in general, because I think that the shapes are fun and they'll age better this way.

Dirtbag guy to single dad is a winning story formula, huh.

They did a lot of 2D-style effects in this movie that I thought looked fun. I dig that trend in the industry right now as well. Some of the scenes were a little clean, almost bare, in terms of environmental design, but the colors generally looked great. Some of the scenes were really bright and vibrant and pretty.

(Mild vague spoiler?) There's no romance in this movie, which was surprising when they definitely set up a female journalist in the position for a love interest. No, it's a "strangers to friendly acquaintances" relationship for them. The female journalist is also a single mother, which was interesting, because you don't get a whole lot of career-minded single mother love interests in animated movies.

(Unimportant spoiler:) She told the protagonist to his face that she thinks he has daddy issues. Not stated quite like that, of course, but it was pretty funny. She was also right about that.

The emotional focus in this film was instead about the protagonist, Kenji, repairing his relationship with his father and also taking care of the kaiju baby. Kenji's only friend and co-parent for a chunk of the movie is an AI assistant (Mina) his parents made.

(Unimportant spoiler:) Stumped by an issue, Kenji makes a frustrated comment about how maybe he should ask Siri instead. Shortly after, in response to a different statement, the AI assistant Mina makes a passive-aggressive comment about how maybe he should ask Siri instead. I found that pretty funny.

(Mild spoiler:) Ultraman in this universe is a known and popular superhero and has been for decades. At one point, the baby kaiju gets out into the city, and Kenji has to go get her before she gets hurt or hurts someone else, and he publicly tells her to "Come to Daddy." And this is overheard by a bunch of nearby civilians, who gasp loudly. It is quite funny. It doesn't really come up again, but even if that wasn't recorded, you just KNOW that the news and the internet went wild over that revelation. "Ultraman had a baby with Gigantron???!!!"

(Another mild spoiler:) At one point, Kenji asks the female journalist for some parenting advice, and she IMMEDIATELY asks him if he has a secret love child. (No one is quite sure why this baseball star suddenly came back to Japan from the U.S., as they don't know he's Ultraman.) Kenji denies it, but I'm pretty sure that she must still think that he does.

(Continuing:) Kenji's baby kaiju parenting struggles (along with his ego) are fucking up his baseball career, due to stress and lack of sleep and conflicting commitments. We aren't shown a lot of interactions with his team, but I desperately hope that he also asked a couple of his teammates for parenting advice or something, so that his team could also immediately assume that he has a secret love child.

Like, "Yeah, yeah, Kenji Sato's secret love child, we all know about it. The poor kid is really bad at hiding it. We're trying to keep it hidden from journalists for him, but the whole team knows he's a new dad, for sure." (They do not know that Kenji is Ultraman and the baby is a kaiju.)

All in all: this movie was fun! Very silly, but cute! I think that I might try to pick some other "Ultraman" shows or films out of the dozens that exist, and try some of those ones out. The property seems to exist in a similar vein as "Transformers" where Rule of Cool rules world building and canon is whatever the newest iteration wants it to be.

[a-small-safe-place]

She Likes a Boy, and I’m not a Boy.

Queen Maeve x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend joins the new superhero team, The Seven, and breaks up with you. This is loosely based on the unreleased song by Nxdia on TikTok. Literally just the “she likes a boy, I’m not a boy” part because a lot of sapphic people can relate to that line.

Margaret knew you were proud of her when she joined The Seven. You were proud of her for anything she did as “Queen Maeve,” but not in the same way her dad would be proud. You weren’t proud of her because it would bring you money or fame; you were proud of her because she was doing good in the world. You didn’t mind keeping your relationship quiet either. You understood that it could lead to more problems for you and definitely more problems for Queen Maeve if the masses found out that her secret identity was dating a woman, even when she was still a small-time hero.

She was fine keeping you a secret when she first joined The Seven, even once she and Homelander started their showmance. Margaret still would sneak around to see you. She would reassure you that it’s just for the cameras and that this was for the best for you two. That’s what Maeve thought, until Homelander made a move on her away from the cameras. She struggled to find the words to tell him no because she had been warned of the damage he could do when he got mad.

Homelander frowned, "No? Why not? You’re single, I’m single. We are both superheroes with super strength, so we don’t have to worry about hurting each other," he argued. Maeve noticed the way his eyes flickered with a strange emotion when he brought up hurting each other. Maeve wondered who exactly he had hurt in the past to warrant that reaction. The thought quickly left her head; she didn’t care about that right now.

"I’m just not looking for a relationship. I like my privacy," Maeve countered. Homelander scoffed as if the notion of privacy was ridiculous.

"Come on, the minute you became Queen Maeve, you lost your right to privacy. You know that as well as I do. I mean, come on, my secret identity, 'John,' only fooled people for a week. It’s going to be no time before they see 'Margaret' for who she really is," Homelander made it seem as if she had no choice.

Maeve finally agreed to "date" him, but she still wanted to keep seeing you, trying her best to keep you away from Homelander. She hated herself for having to do this, but she didn’t want to lose you. That is until she saw the damage Homelander could do if he was jealous enough. At a Vought party, a bartender had been flirting with Maeve. She knew the guy was trying to get tips, but she didn’t know Homelander was able to hear the man flirting, and Maeve laughed at a few of his cheesy jokes because they reminded her of something you would say. The day after, Homelander was being far clingier, and then the day after that, the bartender was found dead in his apartment, completely disemboweled. Homelander told her he did it. He said he was jealous because she’s never laughed with him in the same way she laughed with that bartender.

"I know you wouldn’t try to leave me, but the thought of you laughing with that bartender pissed me off," Homelander’s words felt like a threat. Maeve doesn’t sleep that night. She lays awake knowing that she has to break up with you or watch you be strung up by your intestines.

A week passes. Queen Maeve doesn’t contact you in any way. She can’t, not with Homelander being so clingy. Finally, she is able to slip away while he goes somewhere to help Black Noir. She arrives at your apartment.

Maeve knocks.

Before all this, she would just walk in and make herself at home. You open the door. "Margaret? I’ve been worried sick! You haven’t answered any of my texts or calls! I haven’t seen you in over a week," you scold her.

"We need to talk," she says with a plain face and a monotone voice. Maeve feels lucky she has had to master acting during her time as a hero. You let her in and shut the door. She takes a small survey of your space; she knows she won’t be in it again. Maeve wants to remember what she can.

"Is something wrong?" You ask; there’s a hint of sadness in your voice. You know what’s coming. Maeve turns around with a disgusted grimace painted on her face.

"I’ve been cheating on you," is all she says. It’s painful to admit; she wishes she could tell you she didn’t have a choice and that she’s doing this to keep you safe, but she doubles down. "With Homelander. Since our showmance started."

"Why, Maeve?" You ask, and Maeve’s acting fails her for a moment; she frowns. You always called her Margaret before and not Maeve. She responds with the first thing that comes to mind. "He’s a man. You’re not. You didn’t think I would actually stay with a woman? Our relationship wasn’t even real. We never went on public dates. You were never my long-term plan. Forget this relationship ever happened. You’re nothing to me." Maeve leaves without another word. She slams the door. She flinches, knowing you hate that.

Maeve goes home to drink. Homelander repeatedly asks her what’s wrong, but she just responds with "nothing, just having a drink." Eventually, he goes to his own room, leaving Maeve alone in her Vought-provided room. Maeve wants to cry, but she knows he is listening to her, so she continues drowning her sorrows.

Years pass. Queen Maeve is inescapable for you. She’s everywhere. You finally move on from your relationship with Margaret, choosing to tell people that your ex had died. After all, Margaret was dead; she was just replaced by Queen Maeve.

You feel a bittersweet feeling when you see Homelander and Maeve broke up because he was sleeping around. You felt a little bad for her. Getting cheated on sucked. You moved through your life unbothered. That is until she was outed by Homelander as a "lesbian," and then he name-dropped you as her girlfriend. For a moment, Maeve was visibly shocked, but her face quickly reverted to a painfully fake smile. He said your first and last name. You realized that you had also been outed to anyone in your life that would put two and two together.

The next couple of days your phone rang and rang and rang. Family members calling you. Friends calling you. Co-workers. Random numbers. They all wanted the same thing. The hot gossip on your relationship with Maeve. You got a few nasty emails and direct messages on social media from anonymous accounts that were telling you that you and Queen Maeve would rot in hell for your sins, and a few threats from people that were convinced you corrupted Maeve. You had to take some personal time from work. Maeve eventually showed up at your apartment.

"We need to talk." The last time she said those words to you, she practically tore your heart out of your chest. This time she didn’t wait for you to let her in; she just pushed past you. Just like the last time, she takes in your apartment. You had gotten quite a few upgrades for the apartment.

"Are you here because of the talk show from the other day?" You ask; if you weren’t irritated by the situation, your voice would likely sound sad. "Yes," is all Maeve says. So she’s not really here for you. She’s not here to apologize.

"Well, you can feel free to leave; I’m not a boy, remember?" The words are bitter when they fall from your mouth. You’re not thinking when you say it. "I don’t want you to hate me anymore. I wanted to be with you. I did, but if I stayed, I would have put you in danger."

Of course, she’s deflecting. "So you cheated for my own good? That sounds so stupid," you scoff.

Maeve becomes very serious. "Being a hero isn’t what you think. It’s not about actually helping people. It’s about being a product that can be sold and palatable for the masses." After she says this, you take a seat and wait for her to continue. "Most of the heroes are narcissistic assholes that have no business having powers. They’re dangerous, and Homelander is the most dangerous."

"Homelander? Seriously? He’s like Jesus or something?" It’s hard to believe the top hero is a monster.

"Please, believe me," she begs. Maeve begins to explain what happened with the bartender right before she broke up with you. Maeve explains everything that she can without possibly endangering you.

"Maeve, I had no idea," you tell her. "I know what I said and did all those years ago was unforgivable, but I didn’t want to risk you trying to come and find me again," she says, sitting next to you.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, "How did he find out about us?" Maeve’s brow furrows. "I’m not sure. Maybe Vought knew and had a file on you or something, and he found it, but he knows. I don’t expect you to trust me right away, but getting you in the public eye is going to be the best way to keep you safe. If the public loves you, it will look suspicious if you suddenly disappear or die. He won’t touch you right now, but this is a short-term solution." You don’t respond.

"Vought’s marketing team wants to meet you tomorrow. A car will come pick you up at 3:00 tomorrow," Maeve leaves.

[sseniita]

breaking generational trauma*

*pls give me a better name for this, im going insane

“She’s like me.” 

The villain stared at the child bouncing in the hero’s arms. The hero’s expression wasn’t unlike one she had when she begged for mercy on behalf of a civilian. Simpler, it was similar to when she had begged the villain to take care of her dog while she was away on a mission or when she wanted the last slice of pizza. Overall, the helplessly hopeful demeanor on the hero's face was one villain had become not only familiar with, but also weak against. 

“Hero, where did that come from? Put it back.” urged the villain, gesturing towards the bundle of blankets in her arms. 

“I can’t! I won’t!” The hero held the child closer, protectively, as if the villain was the one being irresponsible here. 

“Like you?” The villain asked, intrigued. “There is no one like you, Hero.” 

The hero readjusted the child on her hip, freeing one arm to grab paperwork rolled up in her back pocket. “That’s what I thought! Look!” She hastily handed over the crumpled up letters to the villain. It didn’t take more than reading the title for everything to click. 

“Experiment 02? You mean-?” 

“She’s from the same tests! We came from the same lab! They were going to do exactly what they did to me- to her-”

“Because of the success you were. I get it.” There was a pause between them for a second. 

The hero was godlike in some ways and machine-like in less important ways. A literal biological weapon, forged since birth. It was an experiment, you could go so far as to call it an accident. Purposeful or not, the hero was the result of a successful lab sourced super-power. It had taken many years for the hero to come to terms with how she became the hero she was, and even longer to investigate and ultimately discover who was behind all of it. Evidently, she had. 

“I can’t let them do it again.” She whispered, holding the child closely to her chest.

It was six months into knowing each other that hero confessed she didn't like being a hero. It was eight months later the villain found out why.

The villain sighed, motioning for her to walk into his apartment. Once they were comfortable on the villain’s couch, he began to ask a million questions. 

Where? A hidden lab. Why? She couldn't leave her there. Her answers we stable and much too clear of mind considering the hero had just stolen a child.

“How old is it?” He finally asked, skimming through the lab documents. 

“It's her. And about 4 months, I think. I just don’t get why they’re starting now. I never found any evidence to show they were doing anything before.” She restlessly bounced the baby. “I just don’t get it.”  

The villain raised a brow at her, she raised one back. “What do you know?” she scooted closer to the villain. 

“Superheroes are either decommissioned or retire around 50. But most lose relevance and popularity by 30. Whether it be they can’t keep their figure, or a newer, shinier thing comes around.” He scoffed. “Never ceases to amaze me” he said half-heartedly, staring down at the documents. The hero’s mouth dropped. 

“I just celebrated my 25th birthday?! You’re saying I’m old and ugly?!” The villain rolled their eyes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re perfect and probably always will be." He realized what he had just said, he quickly interrupted the hero as she was about to open her mouth. "It’s just how it goes. Once you reach 30, people aren’t as interested. It’s fucked.” The hero quickly caught on. 

“So, she’s my replacement?” 

“Seems like it. Nova, she’ll be called once she turns 15. Thankfully, tests hadn't started on her. They had her on weird ass diet to prepare her, though. You caught her in time.”

The hero was sitting close enough that the villain could peek at the baby’s sleeping face. She was so serene and had no idea what had already been laid out for her, all the pain and suffering, in the name of good. She’ll have no choice. Just like the hero. The villain often stared at the hero in the domestic settings they sometimes found themselves in. He’d imagine her on a lunch break from some normal, boring office job when they got late night coffees during the hero’s night shifts. Or at a dinner party whenever they teamed up and went undercover at some fancy party. God- he would have given anything to save his hero from the fate that was chosen for her.  The little girl had chubby cheeks and looked so dreadfully soft. Just like the hero.

Shit. The villain thought, looking at the baby. I have a chance to save you. 

  The villain sighed and leaned back, done reading the crumpled pages, discarding the documents on the coffee table, defeated, just like that. It only took 10 minutes. Maybe he had gone soft.

“Eloise. Her name is Eloise.” He exasperated.  It was heart wrenching to hear the hero start to coo at the baby. “No living family.” He hammered the last nail on his coffin. 

“Hello, little Lulu. Is that your name? Lulu? You’re so cute! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” She baby-talked, pecking kisses all over Eloise's forehead, evidently disturbing her sleep. “Oh sorry- sorry!” she whispered to the baby. 

She turned to the villain, eyes twinkling with hope. “I can keep her? Right?” The villain crossed his arms. 

“Hero, I’m not going to tell you what to do.” 

“Haha- that’s your way of saying you unconditionally support me.” She said as she cuddled the baby even closer. 

“Please let that child breathe, hero. You can’t hold her too close.” He reached a hand to push the baby a little further away from the hero’s chest. She beamed. “You’d be a great dad! Already keeping me in line!”

Please don’t start. 

 Despite himself, he looked for the best way to act disinterested and yet not fully close the window on that chance. 

“No hero. I know how much this means to you, but I’m not taking care of a baby. I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten- I’m a villain. This is no environment for a child- even if I wanted one. You have my approval if that’s what you’re looking for, but that’s it.” 

The hero ignored that, making a show of looking around the villain’s extremely cosy and expensive flat. Dark green wallpaper with flowers, a white brick fireplace with old books on the mantel. The place was decorated with the plushiest of carpets, and liveliest of plants. Each curtain hid a beautifully ornate window overlooking one of the safest areas in the inner city. The hero could see the hero offices which she resided in from here. Finally, her stare landed on the large spare bedroom where not only did the hero have a drawer of her things but had also spent countless nights in, recovering and playing patient to a medically trained villain. She raised her eyebrows at the villain. 

“No.” 

“Please.” 

“Hero. You are always the one saying you wanted a family. This might be your only chance- ok, I get it. But she can’t stay here. 

“I live in the dorms of the Hero Offices with 20 other heroes! I don’t and can’t have my own place! I’ll be found out for sure! There are probably a million people looking for her right now!”

“Hero-” 

“Villain please. I can’t let them find her. I need you.” She placed a hand on his thigh, seemingly not noticing the villain’s twitch. 

“Hero. I’m not a good person, you seem to forget. You cannot have that much trust in me-” 

“You are the only person I can trust. Please.” She begged. 

Perhaps the villain wasn’t the only one to blame, perhaps both of them had let this get too far. It started off normally, the fights, the one-liners, and bruises. And out of nowhere, the subtle flirting, the late night talks, the absolutely vulgar displays of emotions they’d never shared with anyone else, hit them like a brick. The hero had changed the villain’s life for the better. He no longer felt unbearably lonely and burdened, haunted by the constant terror and forcefulness of his occupation.

Villain had fallen in love months ago. And he had gotten far in distancing himself and learning to un-love. Now he had to take care of a baby with her that just happened to look like a perfect combination of both of them? His dark hair and tanned skin, her warm brown eyes and button nose. Just perfect. 

“Fine.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the hero leaned against him, setting her head right under his neck, thankfully she didn’t hurl the baby to give him a hug. Maybe I deserve kisses on my forehead for Gods’ sake. He quickly hurled that thought away. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She beamed, kicking her feet. “This means so much, you have no idea!” 

“Hero, this is temporary. If anyone finds out about this-” 

“Ya, ya, I know. Don’t worry. Everything will be ok! I’ll make sure of it!” 

The villain’s only hope was believing her. She was an atom bomb inside a 25 year old woman after all. Maybe he shouldn’t underestimate her. As she moved in towards the guestroom with Eloise, the villain watched intently, she set her down for a nap on the bed, and once she finally came out she looked determined and extremely excited. She plopped down on the couch making sure they were touching side by side so the villain could look at what she was seeing on her phone. Her fingers scrolled down a website titled ‘what to buy when you're expecting’ the villain groaned.

After an hour of the hero paraphrasing a multitude of blogs and villain jotting down notes, they had completed a list of things they needed to raise a child. The hero deflated when she mentioned how they’d have to skimp out on baby toys and clothes, but she quickly recovered after the villain reassured her money wouldn’t be an issue. Apparently villainy had its perks. 

“So what are you going to do about the corporation? Can you really make sure this won’t happen again?” The villain asked the hero from the entrance way. The hero walked over, baby in arms, the villain helped the hero get her coat back on. 

“Uh well. I maybe, sort of, accidentally, may have burned the place down…? Timidly she made eye contact with the villain who only chuckled. 

“I may have also stolen any hard drive I could have found and threw it in the river.” The villain’s laugh only continued as he put a hand on the small of her back and led her out the door. 

As they were walking to get a car seat- the first of many things on their list- the hero had asked the villain to hold Eloise while she used the lady’s room. She had been asleep when the villain got her but quickly after, she woke up. The villain immediately felt a panic and he feared she might start crying, he held her close, bouncing and hushing her to get her back to sleep. Eloise stared up at the villain for a long time before breaking into giggles, reaching her tiny arms up to touch his nose, getting the attention of the shoppers who started cooing at the handsome man rocking the baby with the loudest giggles ever.  

Right then and there, as he felt the tiniest, softest hands grab his nose, the villain knew he was completely and utterly wrapped around, not only the hero’s finger, but of these tiny fingers as well.

pt 2

[suzukiblu]

Day four of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

"Dead," Tim says, because it's not like it's a secret in the community or anything. "Joker happened to him."

And a lot of other things. Sheila Haywood and Felipe Garzonas and Bruce's eternal control-freak paranoia and constant inability to just talk, to name a few. But Joker, in the end.

Still, Tim can't help thinking about the chances to have avoided what happened to Jason. Especially when thinking about what's currently happening to Kon.

If Kon gets taken advantage of or hurt or killed because no one's paying enough attention . . .

Tim takes another drink.

"That sucks," Kon says with a grimace. "No wonder Batman goes all weird mama Bat on you all the time."

Tim chokes on an incredulous laugh and also a mouthful of soda, because Bruce is definitely not that and this isn't something to make light of either, but–

But also, he thinks about how no one ever goes "weird mama Bat" on Kon. No one ever has, as far as he knows.

No one takes care of him at all.

Tim really, really doesn't like that. Kon shouldn't have to rely on working for people who think they can build custom-designed personal-use superheroes based off of stolen dead bodies and are constantly making clones that are just inhuman-looking enough to not be able to blend into society outside the lab, and therefore don't have a choice about where they live or what they do with their lives.

Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds, or at least not as malicious as it sounds, but it's still the results of what Cadmus is doing either way. Kon has the option of being a superhero, at least, but he also has a custom-designed face that looks exactly like the face of one of the most famous heroes in the sector and was given absolutely no idea how to either establish or support a civilian life, so that's just about his only option.

Aside from, again, just working for Cadmus for the rest of his life.

Tim definitely hates the world.

"Please don't call it 'going mama Bat'," he says to distract himself.

"Please tell me what else you'd call it," Kon says.

"Micromanaging," Tim replies matter-of-factly, and Kon chokes on a laugh of his own.

"What, is being Robin your after-school job?" he teases. Technically it is, Tim supposes, but he doesn't exactly think of it that way.

"I consider it more of an unpaid internship," he says, since explaining the whole "emotional support sidekick" thing would probably damage Bruce's Bat-mystique, and if he tells Kon the full story there he's basically telling all of Young Justice. Kon barely seems to understand the concept of secrets, much less the concept of keeping them. "Like I get an expense account but not a paycheck, you know? And sometimes we get cookies in the Batcave."

"Cookies. In the Batcave," Kon echoes, his eyebrows shooting up. "Are they bat-shaped?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Tim replies with a pleasant smile. Alfred doesn't usually bother with anything quite that on the nose, but according to Dick there are Halloween cookie cutters in the kitchen that he's not above bringing out when Bruce has been being especially ridiculous, so . . .

"Oh my god," Kon says delightedly. "Does he make them himself? Is there a Bat-apron? A Bat-oven? Or does he just order them special from the Bat-bakery?"

"There is not a Bat-bakery," Tim says, trying not to laugh again. Goddammit, Kon shouldn't be so fucking funny all the time. He's not even that funny, objectively; Tim is just a smitten idiot.

"So there is a Bat-apron?" Kon says with a smirk.

"I plead the fifth," Tim says, since explaining the novelty Halloween apron Jason bought Alfred when he was thirteen is not actually on the table. Details compromise identities, loose lips sink ships; all that.

"Listen, man, Cadmus doesn't have a bakery unless you count the test tubes they cook us up in," Kon says with a snigger, grabbing himself another slice. Tim thinks thoughts about incendiary devices. "They buy our cookies frozen or just get the industrial-sized pudding cans. Or make bread pudding, the bastards. So you gotta tell me about the Bat-cookies."

Tim winces at the thought of industrial-sized pudding cans and bread pudding, because that sounds absolutely horrifying and he never, ever wants to taste industrial pudding. Ever.

"Well, they're definitely not frozen," he says. "But Nightwing started being Robin a lot younger than I did and the last Robin started younger than me too, so I think I'm just reaping the benefits of younger kids needing after-patrol snacks and everyone else getting in the habit of it."

"I could get into that habit," Kon says musingly as he tears a bite off his newest slice. Tim immediately resolves to order takeout after every possible Young Justice mission that he can. Or they could go get ice cream or something, he doesn't know. "What do you think, wanna make me Bat-cookies sometime, Rob?"

Every weekend for the rest of their respective lives, although Tim would never actually say that. He's not even a good baker. He doesn't even like to bake.

This crush is definitely a problem.

"You're not Gothamite enough to handle Bat-baking, Kon," Tim says dryly, and Kon sniggers.

He also ducks his head a little, looking . . . oddly soft, for a moment. Tim doesn't understand why, until he realizes–oh. It's because he just called him "Kon", isn't it. He wasn't even thinking about it; just did it reflexively.

Tim is pretty sure he needs to ruin the credit of every single "responsible" adult in Kon's life for not naming him sooner. Well–Dubbilex can have a pass, considering he was also made by Cadmus and his own name is Dubbilex, so it probably never occurred to him that "Superboy" wasn't a perfectly acceptable name. And also he probably doesn't have credit either. But all the rest of them, definitely and for sure.

Superman is getting an envelope of powdered Kryptonite in his fucking mailbox, to start. Or maybe Tim could aerosolize it and pepper-spray him with it. That might work.

"You don't know, I could be," Kon huffs, putting on a mock-offended expression. "I was born and raised in a lab, I'm way tougher than the average guy."

"A Metropolis lab," Tim says pityingly. "Might as well be a kindergarten science class."

"Oh fuck you, Batboy!" Kon protests with a laugh. "Tell that to the next alien invasion."

"Aliens know better than to invade Gotham," Tim says. Kon laughs again. It's–weirdly nice, honestly. Usually Kon's too busy trying to act cool in front of whatever "audience" he thinks they have to actually, like . . . just talk all that much or anything. And also usually he gets offended really easily or starts being annoying about something he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does about or just . . . something.

Tim admittedly is less and less annoyed and more and more endeared by that kind of stupid behavior these days, but still. It's the usual pattern their interactions follow.

He guesses they're actually just, like, hanging out right now. It's not like there's a bad guy or a crisis or even any teammates around or training to do, so . . .

Yeah. He guesses they're just hanging out.

Kon decimates the pizza and wings, Tim pretends to be helping and takes a few mental notes on how much Kon is eating and what that may or may not say about his required caloric intake, and they just kind of keep . . . hanging out, really. And they talk, at least as much as Tim lightly interrogating Kon and subtly evading providing any personal identifying information counts as "talking".

Tim really doesn't know if the guys at school or Young Justice are more authentically his "friends", at this point, but at least Young Justice knows there are things they don't know. Everyone from school . . .

Not so much, with them. They all only know Tim Drake, and none of them have any reason to suspect the existence of Robin. Young Justice only knows Robin, but at least they know there is a Tim Drake somewhere, whether they know him or not.

Maybe they are the ones who are more his friends, thinking of it that way.

It'd explain why things never really go anywhere with civilians and he's developed this stupid inadvisable crush on Kon, at least. Though not why things fizzled with Steph, since she knows Robin better than anyone in Young Justice. If he should be having a stupid inadvisable crush on anyone, at least it could've been someone with an equally stupid and inadvisable crush on him.

Unfortunately, he and Steph have officially friend-zoned each other and also Kon exists, so Tim is having his stupid inadvisable crush on an alien hybrid metahuman clone in a terrible living situation with stupid taste in sunglasses and a mysteriously infinite-seeming supply of leather jackets. So now Tim is in this situation and his supervillain timeline needs recalculated, and also he's going to be buying Young Justice so much takeout to make sure Kon gets to eat something that isn't cafeteria food in a way he won't get offended by.

Hopefully, anyway.

"Well, I'm glad the new job's working out," Tim comments eventually, after some very careful conversational maneuvering, and Kon . . . pauses.

"I guess," he says after a moment, picking olives off the remains of his current slice and not quite looking at him as he says it. Tim resists the urge to absolutely pounce on the blood in the water and makes himself wait. "I mean, it's fine, it's not like it's bad there. Like, I don't love that it's my only real option and I don't love the same lab that made me out of DNA that it literally got out of a literal grave being in charge of me, but it's not like Westfield's still running the place or anything. So like, could be worse."

Tim hates the world. All of it. Seriously. Alfred's snickerdoodles get an exception and that's it. Nothing else.

"I'm sure it'll all work out," he says, because yeah, he officially needs to actually do something about this. He doesn't know what something, but something. If he doesn't, who else is going to?

Kon puts on a fake grin and says something stupid and easy in reply, the comment lighthearted and dismissive and a screamingly obvious coping strategy from someone who doesn't see any way out of their current situation but through, and Tim . . .

Tim finishes his Zesti and starts to think.

[princess-of-the-corner]

I'm curious:

What do you think the Miracuclass would have been like with no Chloe? It's a universe where she doesn't exist?

She is such a force of nature, so a LOT would change, even before the main series.

My first thought is that the role of Class Asshole instead goes to Kim, who remains fairly oblivious to what hurts other people's feelings and can take shit way too far.

I'm not convinced Sabrina would be friends with the rest of the Girl Posse, even HC Sabrina. Canon Sabrina has a lot of moments where she does genuinely like being mean, and wouldn't really gel with the rest of the squad if she hadn't mellowed out in response to Chloe getting more intense.

HC Sabrina probably wouldn't have picked up Chloe's bitchy behaviors, but her idea of friendship would still be pretty skewed because of her dad and I think everyone else would be turned off by how hard she goes. They'd find it weird and uncomfortable and wouldn't really have all the right tools or circumstances to have the conversation that Chloe and Sabrina manage to have. I feel like this would actually cause Sabrina to be a weirdo loner outcast or attach herself to a different Andre-esque figure, although I'm not sure who.

In either scenario, the only ones I see Sabrina being chill with are Alix and Nathaniel. I feel like Alix would be the only one who would respond with grace to Sabrina in kind of a "whoa girl, can you chill out for a second. I don't hate you, just calm down" thing. I feel like Nathaniel and Sabrina would have something of an on-again off-again friendship/acquaintanceship where he likes her cuz she likes his art and refuses to quit when he withdraws, and she likes him cuz he keeps accepting her fuckups even if it takes a week of the silent treatment for him to process it.

I don't think Alya and Marinette would have become half as close, or at least not that fast. Without the common enemy to bond over and miraculously have them sit next to each other, I don't think they'd have much time talking one on one. Marinette may also be a lot less inclined to turn a blind eye to the way Alya keeps trying to expose Ladybug and puts herself in risky situations.

Adrien would have NO friends if you don't count Felix, which would have made him EXTRA fucked up. No concept at all for how people care about each other except what's modeled by the adults who can't get their shit together. No social skills. No idea how a lot of things in the world work. Just. So so so sheltered loner rich kid. And probably very sad and lonely. Nino still would have adopted him and taken him under his wing, but Adrien would be waaaayyyy different. I imagine him being chronically online and talking to a lot of people on the internet (think, made friends in an anime fandom), but he's too scared to drop many details about his personal life because he (rightly) assumes they'll treat him different if they know he's rich and a celebrity.

Just my initial thoughts, and I'm curious how you'd spin it.

ohohoho.

Okay so like

Adrien and Sabrina are obvs going to be the focus here.

the rest of the class is somewhat unchanged. Chloé was a bitch but outside of the Derision Retcons she's not really causing major problems. There are other mean kids at school to kinda fill out anyone being bullied (not in a 'i'm bringing in a rando to fill her role' but in a 'the idea that a singular kid is the only bully in school is ridiculous, and anyone who was targeted by Chloé would've been targeted by someone else).

I do think there may be overall butterfly effect(HA!) in a sense of 'Chloé didn't do X, so Y didn't happen'.

I do also think that Mari and Alya may not have hit it off as strongly because there wasn't some bully to save her from. They might've been friends, but not the immediate "oh I'll become a Superhero to save you!!' thing.

Sabrina is in a weird place because to me she's even more of a social chameleon than either Zoé or Lila. She's been taught to see relationships as transactional and unfortunately so has Chloé so they're a match made in Hell. But without A Chloé there's.... so many other options?

the best option is she made friends who taught her better. But it's also likely that she makes friends who, while good people, don't quite get the transactional angle and are accidentally taking advantage. They do care for her, but also whenever they're busy she still freaks out and wonders if she did something wrong.

Speaking of, Sabrina could've leaned into the transactional too hard in that like. A few too many rainchecks and it's 'Oh I'm doing things for you but you're not giving me affection? Guess we aren't friends goodbye.' so she doesn't really have any friends.

On top of everything else said about Adrien and his lonliness: He wouldn't be in public school. Chloé was the root of the reasons he wanted to go(to be with his friend, to experience the things she talks about happening(well. Her half-truths and skewed perspectives but I digress). And Chloé is the one who gets Adrien enrolled in school in the first place!

Without her, Adrien wouldn't have gone. He might not even be Chat Noir because he didn't go out that day.

[invvuu]

chances to kill you — park jay

pairing — villain!park jay x hero!reader

summary — you’re fighting jay and he corners you

genre — superhero au, slight e2l

word count — 1269

warning/s — few curse words, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood, mentions of cutting someone’s tongue, mentions of weapons, possible grammatical mistakes

author’s note — can i just say that i really like the dynamic between jay and yn in this and i think i might have gone too far in some of the scenes so if there are any surprising ones, i’m sorry;; + rushed ending so do be aware of that

You trip on the ground as a fresh wound opens on your thigh. A breathy gasp spills out of your lips as you look at the injury.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter to yourself in a harsh tone. The blood soon creates a small puddle beneath your fallen figure, staining the fabrics that cover your body.

You try your best to flee from the battle but within a second, a dagger finds its position beside your ear, the blade merely inches from creating further damage to your skin.

A set of chuckles come from the area above you. “Is that all you got?” Jay taunts with a sly smirk on his face. He puts his left hand on the space beside your other ear, pinning you fully to the ground.

This was absolutely awful, you thought to yourself. How in the living hell did this even happen? Jay, the villain you were supposed to prevent from ruining the lives of the city’s citizens, has you cornered. Well this had already happened multiple times but none of those could compare to this situation — a situation where you writhe, giving the villain an opportunity to do whatever he wants with you.

“What,” Jay starts, “Cat got your tongue?”

You scoff at his ridiculous question, a scowl forming on the lips that once taunted Jay the same way whenever you won a battle against him. “You fucking suck,” several curses soon came after your insult.

The villain laughs at your outburst, smirk not faltering. “Those are some vulgar words coming out of that pretty tongue of yours,” he tilts his head, “Maybe I should cut it off so you won’t spew out any more stupid nonsense.”

You grab his arm, trying to loosen his grip on the ground beside your head. He notices your attempt and adds strength, tightening his hold, causing you to be more frustrated at him. “Get off,” you demand. The curves of Jay’s lips only go higher as he hears your command. “And if I did you wouldn’t be able to move, after all one of your legs is injured,” he brings his mouth right next to your right ear, “You would just be stuck here with me.” He chuckles as the volume of his voice goes lower.

You raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean stuck with you?” The tone of your question becomes harsh as you wait for an answer.

“The exit is password locked and it can only be opened from outside,” Jay directs his gaze at the double-sided doors that stood across the room, “So that means you and I are stuck here until we find a way out.” He turns back to look at you, a smirk creeping onto his face once again.

“This has got to be a joke,” You say out loud with the same scowl from earlier. Jay laughs slightly at your complaint, “I don’t like this either but I must say, having you right under me is definitely a sight I would want to see.”

“Shut up,” You raise your hand to put it against Jay’s chest, “And get off of me.” You finally say as you push Jay away, causing him to lean back away from your upper body. He lets go of the dagger’s handle, leaving the weapon itself to fall and create the sound of metal hitting the hard concrete floor.

You prop yourself with both of your elbows and look at the villain in front of you. He wipes the blood from the side of his mouth with his hand, looking at it and then at you. He smiles softly while raising an eyebrow, “Seems like you still have some energy in you.”

You grab the dagger beside you and quickly throw it into Jay’s direction only for it to miss and hit the wall. He chuckles and reaches towards his knife belt, “You do know I have more, right?” He asks mockingly. “But you only have two left,” you bite back.

A frown manages to appear on Jay’s face as he hears your words. He pushes you down again and takes out another dagger. He swings it right in front of your face before stopping — the weapon merely inches away from stabbing you.

His reaction makes you smirk, it was your turn to spite him now. “Aw, it seems like someone is pissed at me,” you say with the intention of taunting him. Jay stares at you with a blank expression, the sly appearance nowhere to be seen on his face.

“You know,” you start while admiring the villain’s face, “throughout our entire fight we were close to each other multiple times and it seemed like any other fight to me.” Jay raises an eyebrow, “What are you even talking about?” He asks plainly, void of any emotion in his voice.

“But when you managed to pin me to the ground you had a dagger in your hand,” you change your gaze unto the weapon near you, “and all you did was just taunt me and look incredibly annoying instead of killing me.”

You rest your hand on top of Jay’s hold on the dagger, “I get that you hate me too — the feeling’s completely mutual between the two of us but you can’t kill me? That’s pretty pathetic the way I look at it.” Your fingers wrap around the handle, “If you can’t kill me then that would mean you can’t kill anyone, seems like you’re just a coward to do anything drastic.”

“Fuck off,” Jay says with a deep voice as he quickly uses his free hand to press down unto your shoulder, causing you to make a slight noise of pain. “I could say the same to you,” he responds, “you’re a hero trying to save this city but each time you try it hurts people.” He puts his lips beside your ear, “People die, people lose everything they have, no matter how much you and that stupid organization does it is never enough to save everyone.”

The moment you hear his words your grip on the dagger’s handle loosens. Jay smirks, enjoying the feeling of being able to make you vulnerable by doing nothing but speak the truth.

“[codename], can you hear me…?!”

The sound of Jungwon’s voice comes through your ear piece. The villain chuckles as he opens his mouth to speak further.

“We can hear you,” he responds to the young boy.

The latter doesn’t talk, speechless. After a few seconds the sound of Jungwon trying to talk comes out, “What have you done to [codename]?”

“Don’t worry, they’re here safe and sound with only just a few scratches.” Jay says, trying to reassure Jungwon knowing full well he wasn’t going to fully trust him.

“Listen here,” he starts, “I will leave for now but know that I will come back next time, your little friend is here at the company’s storage room.” Those were the last words before he stopped communicating with the young boy.

Jay stands up, taking the dagger with him. He looks down at you as a soft smile appears on his expression. “Well then, I will be on my way now,” he says while catching your attention simultaneously, “I’ll be looking forward to when we meet again, [codename]. ”

He then runs away afterwards, leaving you on the ground, the puddle of blood semi dried beneath you. You try to compose yourself as you think about what had happened, but a realization starts creeping into your mind — that little trickster knew there was a way out.

[© invvuu] - do not repost, translate, or copy my written work in any shape or form

[jessicas-pi]

Y'all said you wanted to know my new idea, so. Hear me out on this. Cracky fun-filled Rebels Superhero AU highkey based on the 1966 Batman show.

*narrator guy voice* At stately Syndulla Manor, home of millionaire Hera Syndulla and her youthful ward Ezra Bridger-

So yeah, Hera is a millionaire who does superhero work under the alias "Spectre." She has an invisible car called the Ghost (but Ezra always calls it the Ghostmobile.) Ezra is her adopted kid and sidekick. I'm thinking his superhero alter ego has a cat theme, just because. Maybe he goes by "Stray" or "Alley Cat" or something.

Now, enter Kanan!

Kanan also does superhero work, calling himself "Phantom." He, too, has a sidekick: Sabine! (I'm not sure if I want Sabine to go by "Nightowl" (referencing her Nite Owl helmet) or "Starbird.") Like Hera, Sabine is also pretty rich, but she tries to escape her life as the daughter of a famous politician by moonlighting as a superhero. She also refuses to be called Kanan's sidekick because she "works alone" (only she keeps showing up whenever he's investigating a crime because She's Lonely and he has Dad Vibes.)

Ahsoka is the "commisioner gordon" character, and she's in contact with all the heroes and often calls them both in for cases, but she also uses an alias (Fulcrum) so that the villains can't trace back to her and use her to get to the heroes. Zeb works at the police department and he's the one most often assigned to go work with the superheroes.

Hera and Ezra know each others' identities, since they're adopted family, but none of them know any other secret identities. Which leads to some pretty crazy shenanigans, because:

Hera and Kanan are engaged.

Spectre and Phantom are amiable coworkers.

Phantom very vocally admires Hera around Spectre.

Ezra is deeply suspicious of Phantom because he thinks Kanan is THE COOLEST and NOBODY ELSE should be acting all interested in Hera, especially if they don't even KNOW HER. SHE'S ENGAGED, BACK OFF BUDDY!

Ezra and Kanan have a great father-son relationship. The only strain is that Ezra will not shut up about how much Phantom annoys him.

Sabine and Ezra go to the same fancy school and they're best friends.

Ezra has the world's biggest crush on Nightowl/Starbird. Naturally, he confides in his best friend about it---minus the part where he's a superhero interacting with her regularly---completely unaware that she is Nightowl/Starbird.

Sabine thinks it's hilarious. (After all, it's just a celebrity crush---Ezra has never even met her as her superhero identity---and by the time he finds out her identity, he'll toooootally be over it! ...won't he?)

The only person to have everything figured out is Hera's butler Okadiah. He Is Amused.

So, yeah. Secret identity shenanigans.

Also, just funny stuff in general. There's lots of hilarious villains-of-the-week, among them such ridiculous characters as Commander Meiloorun. (Yes, Commander Meiloorun is an actual villain-of-the-week character here.) And the ridiculous costumes, too, obviously. I might have to draw them sooner or later.

Anyway, I've kinda expended my thoughts on this so far... yeah soooo that's all i have! (but stay tuned in case i do draw some art for it because i definitely might.)

[flightfoot]

Could you rec fics where Marinette isn't a holder or becomes one later in the story?

Sure! Though it's not very common. I'm guessing that you're referring to AUs where Miraculous are still a thing, and not No Powers AUs.

---

Thanks, But No by @pauliestorylover

For every miraculous that Fu cupped in his palms, an image of the same blue-eyed girl flashed through his mind. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born to hold the miraculous—she resonated with every single one of them far better than even the late Celestial Guardian, and it was Fu’s duty as the last Guardian not to allow such talent to slip through his hands.

Too bad Marinette wasn’t on the same page.

Or; au where Master Fu keeps throwing miraculous at Marinette hoping one will stick, Marinette goes around handing out miraculous like candy, and Wayzz has never seen anything so ridiculous in his millennia-long lifespan.

This one’s fun. Everyone except for Adrien ends up with a different Miraculous than in canon, and it’s really interesting to see how they all adapt. Marinette’s thorough noping out is pretty funny too, and there’s some sweet bits of Adrino and Alyanette in here!

---

final girl by picayunewrites

Marinette has ninety-nine problems, and the superhero trio of Paris counts for a hundred. [AU where Marinette follows through on giving up her earrings after Stoneheart, but becomes the Guardian to protect her replacement.]

This is just great. Marinette thinks she failed, but the other heroes wouldn’t agree. And eventually, she gains some confidence in herself as well.

---

The Sidekick Conspiracy by BringTheStorm

It's common knowledge among the heroes of Paris that their sidekick, the civilian Marinette Dupain-Cheng, is actually secretly their leader, pretending to be a normal girl who just ‘happens’ to show up at battles. Common knowledge to everyone except Marinette. What do you do when you're in the center of a conspiracy that doesn’t actually exist? In which Marinette is confused, Chat has no idea what's going on, Master Fu just wants Marinette to be safe, and everyone is misinterpreting the situation.

This one is just fun! Marinette has no idea she keeps on being given jewelry all of a sudden, and Fu’s frustrated that she won’t actually USE the damn Miraculous already.

[nitewrighter]

If you had to write a Spider-Man x DC crossover fic, how would you do it? Plop Peter in the middle of one of the iconic DC cities because of multiversal shenanigans, or would you blend things together so that Spidey would feel like a natural part of the DC setting?

Would Spidey remain a NYC-bound hero, or would he be slinging webs elsewhere?

Well to preface my answer, I need to reiterate that the primary advantage Marvel has had over DC from the start is being able to position itself as a response/deconstruction to whatever DC's putting out. DC started back in the 1930's and Marvel really only emerged as something recognizably similar to the Marvel we know today in the 1960's when Stan Lee joined the team. DC was shaped by WW2 and Baby Boom/Cold War Era patriotism, while Marvel emerged at the beginning of multiple massive counterculture movements and a superhero genre on the decline. Basically compare the Justice Society of America being conscripted to fight a domestic fascist threat during WW2, happily hooking arms and shaking hands and congratulating each other all the while, with the Fantastic Four, a loving but squabbling family who get their powers by pure cosmic accident and are now juggling their newfound powers with their still-flawed relationships and now supervillain threats.

This is also why Spider-Man, who in my eyes is very much the heart and soul of the Marvel universe is, in himself, a deconstruction of Superman. He's vulnerable where Superman is invulnerable, he can swing a web but he's very much subject to gravity, he's lean and scrappy rather than musclebound, he has to continually contort himself in the air and to his environment to get around rather than just smashing through it, and his characterization is very much based in the inherent instability of adolescence whereas Superman is positioned as this very stable, moral presence. Right off the bat Spider-Man is defined by a mistake, by his selfishness resulting in the death of his Uncle Ben, and he's later further defined by the death of Gwen Stacy, which is also Marvel saying to DC, "Hey it's not just monster of the week over here, our characters can grow and change and DIE." So like... even though I definitely put myself in the DC camp more than the Marvel camp, I can absolutely see Marvel's appeal.

As far as putting Spider-Man into the DC universe goes, honestly that would depend on what my overall goals for the fic would be. If it's just a silly "ooh what if Spidey met ________?" then Pete's probably getting isekai'd, but--and okay this might be cheating because it's Jack Kirby, haha--I'd be interested in seeing NYC-based Spidey basically getting hit with the Fourth World saga. He's just a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man and he did not ask for a fucking SPACE THEOMACHY dropped into his lap! So it would be less of dropping Spider-Man into the DC universe and more of taking a massive chunk of the DC universe and making it Spidey's problem. And then he and Mister Miracle can be fwiends and Orion can pick him by the neck so he makes a squeaky toy noise and Barda can hold him in her big strong arms and he can dangle behind Lightray by a web going "Wheeeeee." Also I think him interacting with the Forever People would be hilarious as well. Spider-Man is not equipped to deal with invading Apokoliptian forces but then a bunch of Space Hippies show up and just fucking Voltron together into a Huge Guy and Spidey's just like, "I've met some polycules in my life, but this is ridiculous!" but probably something more clever and Spidey-ish.

Mostly I'd be interested in seeing this because of the aforementioned argument of Spider-Man as a deconstruction of Superman. While Kirby initially wrote the Fourth World saga as its own almost standalone/spin-offy thing within the DC universe, Darkseid quickly became recognized as a part of Superman's Rogue's gallery in the greater pop culture eye--largely thanks to Superman: TAS. Like, yeah, a lot of the time Darkseid is positioned as the big cosmic threat to the Justice League as a whole, but it's Superman who usually ends up in the solo rounds with the guy.

I feel like this way Spider-Man would basically be positioned as the guy who ultimately has to help the New Gods acclimate to earth and this way the whole massive Apokolips/New Genesis cast Kirby set up in the Fourth World saga wouldn't end up scooted off to the side in favor of the Justice League, which is basically what happened to them in the overall popular reception of DC. Spider-Man would need Mister Miracle, Big Barda, Lightray, Orion, and the Forever People's help in defending New York from Darkseid and his goons, and they, in turn, would need Spider-Man's help in understanding life on Earth.

Spider-Man: Behold! The Bacon Egg and Cheese!

The Forever People: *awed* Ooooohhhh

I feel like it also works because The Fourth World Saga was Jack Kirby's way of incorporating a shit-ton of counter-culture into mainline DC really really quickly, so you already kind of have this meshing of DC and Marvel vibes.

[deuterosapiens]

Binged Captain Laserhawk: a Blood Dragon Remix last-night.

So, aside from having a title so ridiculous that I will not be able to say it aloud with a straight face (heh), this thing was awesome. Weird as actual hell, but awesome.

We are talking Grade-A insanity here.

This show is a Ubisoft themed wonderland of beautiful violence and absurdity. So you have Rayman as the mouthpiece of a technopocalyptic Big Brother post-Usonian society, who goes down a drug-addicted rabbit (Rabbid?)-hole after being fired for calling out one of the city's superhero elite watchmen (who I'm sure I would care about if I had ever bothered to play Rainbow 6,).

Meanwhile, our hero, Awesome McCoolname, Dolph Laserhawk (our MC), is living through a rousing case of "my boyfriend betrayed me to Kickstart a revolution" (we've all been there), which results in him being confined to the Ubisoft Suicide Squad featuring Uncle Pey'j and Jade (from Beyond Good and Evil, a game which I've played like a dozen times), a frog-man Assassin, and a real-world wrestler whose name I can't remember, nor do I care ro since he basically exists to demonstrate that, in true Suicide Squad fashion, failure to follow the rules is a recipe in getting your head blown to tiny little gooey pieces.

If you've ever seen There Will be Brawl, the Super Smash Bros fanseries starring Matt Mercer as Ganondorf (and a Hannibal Lecter-inspired Kirby), this show kind of reminds me of that.

And to wrap this post up, I cannot praise the animation enough. It's fluid and gorgeous, vibrant when necessary. There's an experimentality to it that's also very cheeky. You'll see drastic style shifts that exist, to me, exclusively to remind you that this is a video game property and you should treat it as such.

I should probably make some comment about the sub-title or something, but I've never played Far Cry, and therefore have no opinion on that aspect of the show.

So, this thing which will probably be my new obsession for the next six months, has the perks of looking good, having interesting characters with very distinct personalities, traumas, and representations, gloriously creative violence, and an entire society of fur-bait.

This, this one I like. Might finally finish Castlevania, after this.