#Invincible Questions & Discussion

[clairewritesfanfics]

Invincible Questions & Discussion

smart atoms and skin-biting

masochist smart atoms

what if there were enough supplies in the wasteland

emotions and viltrumite flight

omni-mark and his wife getting judged by other women

flaxan mark notes

mark, his variants, and the legendary puppy dog pout

mark grayson is my godzilla

mohawk's influence on the virgin viltrumite

no goggles and mohawk educate virgin viltrumite

the other marks try to educate virgin vil

shiesty is a supportive gamer bf

mark variants with duplikate-like reader

chiikawa (spoilers)

mohawk zipper

marks getting embarrassed

female mark grayson

right person, wrong time with reader, mark and eve & eve's reaction

reader-sexual

every mark's love

variants react to eve and main mark crashing out

variants costume suit up

marks as disney princes

scarring with shiesty and full mask

mark can't masturbate

comfort him

most to least embarrassed -🌠 anon

would i pierce him?

piercing mohawk

ranking the masochists -🌠anon

mark tiddies

the real reason omni crosses his arms so much

omni is working to make them bigger

i wanna suck

other au marks (burger & gda)

teaching them to swear in filipino (tagalog)

good boy -🌠 anon

murderous viltrumite puppy -🌠 anon

jealous big dogs

sinister sinister

command: kill 🐇

spoiler alert, eve (possible spoiler for canon)

flower harem

teasing shiesty with his veil

personal salon crew -🌠 anon (harem au)

"you're too late, bro!" cw: nsfw at the end, mild angst, happy end tho

chibivincible, or "invinciblobs," or "invinciblorbos," if you will

star charts -🌠 anon (harem au)

ranking the star whores

boyfriend of the month (harem au)

prizes -🌠 anon

full mask banned

suggestion box

most coveted award

when you laugh -🌠 anon

scar headcanons (full mask and shiesty)

stunted prison mark

what to call the marks -🌠 anon

"up"

trapped in the canon verse

random yn visit

when you smile 🐇

mark in his gold and white thraxan mini

get pegged

gold and white suit

cut him open

when we rant to him (them) -🌠 anon

vil mark hobbies

eating with them pinoy-style

vil mark's froggies

scars and masochist atoms

full mask and shiesty sharing the love (harem au)

anglerfish love 🐇

altar of love (harem au)

reader's blood -🌠 anon

viltrumite blood donation 🐇

finite curve without traces of you (harem au)

marcy's (female mark) au

bite me -🌠 anon (harem au)

shiesty with a figurine collecting reader

harem manager reader -🌠 anon (harem au)

kidnapping angstrom for a mark harem

smart atoms rejected

marks accidentally step on chibi reader (harem au, dollhouse au)

yandere reader wants to kidnap mark

watching chibi reader bathe (harem au, dollhouse au)

each variant's shrine - 🌠 anon (harem au)

silent hill 2

relationship of each mark with each other (harem au)

snippet

jason todd and batsis reader (platonic) (neglected batsis au)

mohawk's looks

no goggles and a giant portrait

do you think my food is affecting me?

the marks as dads and their ranks

#end of first list#

author's note: Tumblr won't let me add a new link for some reason (T.T) but if you want to see the continuation, just use the #InvincibleQ&D tag

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Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[alive-gh0st]

I love Afterglow so much! But would you care to indulge my curiosity? Do you imagine reader to be slightly older than Mark? I imagine to be in her mid- to early twenties bc of her expansive career in the medical field, though I'm only going by the impression that she only started working after graduating; unless she's been working for some time already? Idk how careers work ajkdshfldf

˗ˏˋ❝Afterglow❞ˎˊ˗

Mark Grayson x Med!Reader♡ྀི

‎…..ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ…..

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

AHHH first of all—thank you so much for the love on ”Afterglow”!! This is such a fun ask, and I’m honestly so happy someone’s curious enough about something to dive into it with me.

You’re feeding my writer ego. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

So! Let’s talk canon real quick (I’m letting out my inner nerd rn):

In the comics, Mark starts out at 17 years old, but he ages pretty fast—and by the midpoint (around where ”Afterglow” would be happening, give or take), he’s roughly 19–20 , depending on how closely you track the arcs.

He’s been through it (emotionally unwell, physically worse), and is already working full-time with Cecil, so we’re definitely not dealing with “freshman bio class” energy anymore.

The man is seasoned. In trauma.

If we were going by the animated series, though—it’s a little fuzzier.

Season two makes it clear he’s just recently turned 18, so if you’re seeing ”Afterglow” through a show-only lens, Reader might come off as a bit older. But that’s kind of the fun of it, right?

Different interpretations work depending on what canon you’re leaning into. Especially since she’s employed, competent, and not trying to flirt while holding a scalpel backwards.

(Unlike a certain someone in goggles.)

Also! In ”Afterglow”, Mark is still wearing that iconic yellow-blue disaster suit, which firmly locks the timeline into late Season 2-ish // early Season 3 vibes if we were following the showverse.

As for Reader? Yes—I do personally imagine her to be a bit older. Not by decades or anything, but enough to feel the difference. Maybe 21–23ish, depending on how chaotic and accelerated you want her backstory to be.

Either she’s a prodigy who skipped grades and sprinted into the trauma field, or she’s just a few years older with a no-nonsense attitude and a résumé that could legally intimidate a superhero.

She’s sharp, capable, and absolutely not here to babysit—which just makes Mark being utterly down bad for her even funnier.

Regardless, I love the dynamic of “older, exhausted professional woman” × “younger, slightly feral man with devotion issues.”

BUT! While ”Afterglow” is loosely grounded in comic canon (especially in tone and timeline), it’s very much doing its own thing. The plot, pacing, and character dynamics all live in their own little sandbox. Nothing’s rigid. It’s vibes first, logic second. As it should be.

Hope that answers the curiosity!! And seriously—thank you again for caring about this chaotic little universe enough to ask.

I’m legally required to write more now.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: okay—not a new chapter (pause for dramatic disappointment), but if you’ve ever sat there wondering where exactly “Afterglow” falls in the timeline or how old anyone even is while mark is out here catching feelings mid-shift… this one’s for you. huge shoutout to the anon who asked and accidentally unleashed my inner lore geek.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ongoing TAGLIST: @pickledsoda @f3r4lfr0gg3r @bakugouswh0r3 @katkirishima @delusionalalien @bellelamoon @monaekelis @feminii @sketchlove @lilacoaks @cathuggnbear @forgotten-moon94 @lalana1703 @smikitty @barbare2 @sleepyzzz3 @sunspl0tionjuice

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

taglist sign up: 𓉘here𓉝

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st

[lacobus]

nsfw ; mark & his favorite cam streamer

tags: reader is afab but not really explicitly gendered, kind of exposition heavy, reader is a cam girl/cam boy, light discussion of porn, and masturbation

it's not really surprising mark jerks off. he's just a person, not a paragon of saintly attitude and disposition.

he can be mean, he can be pretty disgusting sometimes, it's what most people are occasionally. in the normal ways— like forgetting their manners from time to time or cracking an insensitive joke.

he's not innocent, not really anyway. he knows his way around the internet. knows which accounts on twitter to look at. its all part of the routine he's developed over the influx of hormones simmering within himself.

mark knows what he likes and what he absolutely can't stand. he always skips videos with excessive moaning, and refuses to watch hardcore kink videos because he's not really ready or interested.

he skims through couple videos sometimes and gets a little miffed at the fact that he's getting off to kissing and missionary. other times he just browses. it feels more like a chore than an outlet. he's probably gone miles and miles by just clicking and browsing. scrolling, if he's on his phone.

eventually he comes to find cam sites— they're pretty straightforward and in-your-face generally speaking. he's not even that far from the banner and almost a dozen of people are scantily clad or naked.

your video is somewhere down the line. you're not really in lingerie, just in an oversized t-shirt and panties. they hug your figure nicely, and you're just groping yourself.

mark is early, he learns, and you usually like to stretch out the teasing foreplay part of your streams. taking your sweet time to remove your shirt, and either peel or kick off your panties. moving slow like molasses.

part of what mark enjoys seeing in porn is probably authenticity. there's always a form of vunerability in porn. in the way people grind and moan and keen. he likes to see someone who's honestly enjoying themselves and you do exactly just that.

flick your nipples and laugh, muttering that it doesn't really do anything for you, but that it probably turns someone on. it's charming, and incredibly attractive in a way mark isn't very familiar with.

he's half hard when you finally decide to use your toy— tentatively, just one. set aside usually, just within reach so when you decide you're sick of preening for the camera you can finally get off.

the show isn't fancy, but mark cums anyway. he's satisfied when he does. you're still writhing and mewling when he tucks himself back into his boxers.

he likes things simple, that way they're easy to understand. mark commits your username to memory and drops by whenever he feels like it.

mark learns that you like to interact with your chat sometimes. a swarming insatiable mess of horny idiots all vying for your attention no matter how short it might be.

he usually forgets about the chatter. he isn't paying attention to random people comment about how pretty your ass is or how they want you to stick your tongue out when you cum, all he focuses on is fucking his fist to the rhythm of your bucking hips and cumming in sync.

it usually goes that way, until he's watching you entertain questions from viewers. you get a few strange ones that you don't really pay mind to, but someone starts the conversation of people you'd fuck.

of course celebrities make the list, but mark doesn't expect the conversation to talk about heroes.

"immortal?" you laugh, a little out of breath as you slowly work your way up and down a dildo. "too old, and he's not cute!"

mark grimaces, the mental image isn't cute either. a selfish and sick part of him refuses to share, but he doubts immortal even knows how to look up pornsites. he probably pages through magazines or something.

you go quiet for a bit and squint at the screen, "of course! why wouldn't i? invincible is ripped like hell."

mark's face grows hot, incredibly flattered. he gets hard when you spout out little comments about how you'd lick his neck and let him fuck your throat sore.

mark's liking for you had been mostly out of how pretty you are and how easy it is to watch you come apart. but now he knows how big of a fan you are for invincible, and he's never gonna pass up on watching you ever.

[havenhyunjin]

safe space — bangchan

the one where you would do anything to be a safe space for him. word count: 1k

warnings: discussions of grief and loss, although not extensively. merely trying to process complicated feelings. hurt/comfort. angst.

a/n: i’m not trying to speculate on any grieving process chan is going through, but as he’s been vocal about his struggle with the loss of a friend, i created this also hoping that he does actually have loved ones to rely on and he allows himself that grace <3. rest in love, moon.

————————————————————————

The soft vibration of the diffuser was getting to your nerves. So was the sizzling meat in the pan you were cooking on. Even the sound of an opening door proved to be unsettling. That’s when you realized the sounds weren’t bothering you; you were simply on edge for entirely different reasons.

You knew how to deal with your own grief and loss wasn’t a foreign concept. You could manage it, and you did.

Not knowing how to deal with Chris’ grief was unnerving. You had no idea how to help him, if he wanted or needed help at all, and it left you feeling powerless.

Chris closed the door behind him and greeted you softly, as you replied for him to know you were in the kitchen. He walked closer to you, and gave you a soft peck on the lips to greet you with an almost imperceptible smile.

“How are you?” you asked, although you were fully aware it was a stupid question.

He shrugged and laughed without a hint of happiness. All you could come up with was a hug that you hoped would express everything you didn’t know how to say or show.

I love you. I’m here. I’m sorry. I got you, if you need me. I hate seeing you in pain. But your pain is not a burden. And you don’t have to talk about it. I love you. I got you.

As Chris melted into your embrace, you knew he understood, like he knew you understood him. Even in the unspoken nature of the entire process, you both could count on each other unconditionally and while it didn’t get any easier, Chris was certain that your patience and your love were a lifeline he would never let go off.

He kissed you in as a thank you - gently, no rush, hoping it would convey a part of the convoluted emotional state he was in.

I love you. Thank you. I don’t ever want to burden you. One day I might be able to talk about it. I’m grateful for you. I love you. Please stay.

With the way you kissed him back, enveloping him around your arms, he was entirely sure you would stay, and it meant everything.

The only reason you pulled away was realizing your food was going to burn otherwise. He laughed a little bit at you rushing to turn off the flame, and grabbed plates for both of you to have dinner. You sat down together to eat on the couch in front of the TV, playing a documentary that neither of you were really paying attention, but the point was being close to each other as you finished your meal in silence.

Chris was used to retreating and isolating himself whenever he was having a hard time; there was no reason to bother anyone else with his problems and sadness. One of the many ways you turned his life around was opening him up to the opportunity of relying and leaning on someone else.

He was still uncomfortable not showing up all the time as the strong, invincible leader he was supposed to be, but he decidedly knew now that is not what you expect from him. You just loved him, in every version.

You were still having a hard time accepting that you couldn’t fix everything for him either. There are some things that are inevitably debilitating for him, and as much of a rock as you tried to be for him, you couldn’t make this one go away. Chris, of course, doesn’t expect you to fix anything.

Regardless, in the comfort of your steady hand holding his, and in the comfort of his sad but loving eyes looking into yours, you both felt that everything would be okay.

With a display of vulnerability that was rare but welcomed, Chris moved to lay down in your lap. He curled up next to you, laying his head down and closing his eyes.

Chris didn’t know how to deal with his grief either, and he wasn’t sure anyone really knew how to do it. The fluctuation, unpredictability and non-linear nature of his process was excruciating. He wanted control over himself back desperately, but it didn’t work like that.

As you decided to lay down behind him instead, embracing him against you as your head rested on his back, he was reminded that not being in control all the time was natural. He closed his eyes, trusting you to hold him through it all, and for one night handing over the tight, heavy leash he has been trying to keep on himself.

Even though you didn’t see it, you knew he was tearing up and all you could do was hold him tighter.

I got you. You can let go with me. I’ll stay with you forever.

Even though he was crying, he was relaxing into you at the same time.

You’ve got me. I love you. Thank you. I love you.

The sadness, pain, loss and grief would not go away, but he had one less thing to worry about; hiding it. You know that you can’t make it go away, even though you wished you could, but what you could do was stay right here with him in his terms and that was good enough.

“Chris?” you called out to him softly. He hummed to reply, sniffing his nose while still letting his long held back tears out.

“I’m right here,” you said, although it was a universally acknowledged truth. Vocalizing it felt like hugging his soul, desperately letting him know verbally, physically, emotionally, that here you stay.

He nodded. He knew. He felt it.

“I know, baby,” Chris said, turning around to face you while you both laid down and held each other close. His troubles felt soothed, and damn near healed as you began pressing soft kisses against his face. He was smiling, each little peck reminding him that although life can be mind-numbingly painful, it can also be all-consumingly wonderful.

You are the living proof of every good thing the world has to offer, and he’s grateful. He was so eternally grateful for his safe space in you.

[tiramissyoucake]

The bath blurb was absolute GOLD!!! love it so much!! Tho it made me question, for the other Mark variants how would they react to the threat of no longer being able to bathe with their boo ever again as well?~~~

first time trying this format, so let's hope it looks right! Based off this

Includes: Sinister, Mohawk, Omni. Lmk if you want any other specific variants !

Cw: little gorey description but nothing drastic, tagged just incase:

♡ Threatening him with no more baths together if he doesn't bail out of a fight immediately

Sinister Invincible

Who tf do you think you are. You can't take that from him. You're not allowed.

It's like a switch goes off in his brain, fists shaking as he clenches them and grinds his teeth together, completely forgetting about whoever he's dealing with

"That's not up to you. Sit tight. I'll kill this fucker and deal with you myself." Then crushes whatever communication device he had jammed in his ear in his fist, leaving no room for discussion

After bursting the skull of whoever he was dealing with in between his hands easily, he flicks off whatever innards clung to his hands and his body, leaving the beheaded corpse for someone else and zooming straight back to you.

You're desperately trying to communicate with him any way possible, but with the earpiece gone there was no way— it's fine, he was right behind you anyway.

"You think you're so fucking smart." He mocks, grabbing your jaw and turning you to him. "Home. Now. You're scrubbing this shit off me."

It took you a moment to establish he meant the blood on his suit and whatever seeped beneath the fabric to his skin, his malicious smile told you this would be a bath that would leave you two overly soaked and pruny.

Mohawk Invincible

Immediately tries to argue, that was sacred. How could you.

His focus completely tears away. "What the fuck?! What did I do?! Just because I'm taking a little longer than usual?! Get back on the damn line! I know you can hear me!!"

He let's out a loud groan when you demanded for him to return again. He was half super-powered alien. Who gives a shit if he took 5 more minutes to kill someone?

"I know you can't live without my dick, but trust me— I'll kill this loser and come straight home! I'll even splatter his guts so you'll know I need that bath!"

"Don't care, bail out. Now." His hands clutch his forehead and drag his skin down to his chin in a frustrated facepalm, he's gotta kill this guy. And fast.

It was messy, he made sure of it, by the end of the massacre the corpse was unrecognisable and his suit was more red than blue and black, he looks up where he knows there's hidden cameras for GDA stalkers to watch him.

"Did'ja see me?" He sounds giddy. "See how filthy I am?" He gestures down to his suit. "I'm comin' to pick you up, we're running that bath the moment we get home!"

Omni Invincible

He tries to act like it doesn't bother him but deep down he feels like the bell tolled for his soul.

"Calm down." He's not sure if he's telling you that or himself. "Don't talk about our private things around those GDA pests."

The definition of 'lock the fuck in.' Because he does immediately after, you see him zip around on the screens before his opponent is grabbed by the throat and ultimately crushed. You thanked God for the distance between the camera and the scene itself.

He grunts as he drops the neutralised enemy and lets the blood drip off his gloved hand. "Threat down, I'm heading back now."

No objections, he was asked to deal with a problem, and he did. He didn't want to waste time around government dogs, picking you up and flying off wordlessly without waiting for your agreement.

"Don't ever talk about when we bathe together around those... parasites." He speaks softly to you as he flies you home with him, keeping out of civilian sights.

"And don't ever threaten not to bathe with me." He sounded more frustrated. "Or I swear, I'll throw that fancy bathtub we own into space and let it land in Alaska."

[affableramen]

when you slap them

hurt/comfort, established relationship

Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Kazuha, Dainsleif, Baizhu

Wriothesley

At first shocked, Wriothesley slowly turns his face towards you. There is an apologetic expression in his eyes. His pride dies out before he admits nonchalantly:

“Fine, I deserved that.”

He leaves you temporarily, assuming that you’d like to not see him for a while. He doesn't know if there’s anything needs to be said.

Tartaglia

“Ow”, he says, dramatically, before turning to face you. His cheek is burning pale crimson, while you’re staring daggers at him.

Tartaglia rubs his wounded face, though his pride is no less wounded, but he is about to forget his pride for a while.

“I mean—okay— I might be a dork. But easy, easy on me!”

Neuvillette

The judge is very principal about what he touches and what touches him, and when you deliver that ruthless slap, that seems to ground him, Neuvillette only sighs exhaustively.

“I predicted that you would disagree. You should know, the thought of misunderstanding with you plagues me enormously. But seeing you ground me like this—I must have said something really abominable.”

Neuvillette doesn't even touch the reddened cheek, he wears your mark on him proudly and unconditionally.

Pantalone

His head is thrown to side as you deliver a harsh slap with dry expression on your face and dreadful precision of your target. In normal occasion, in a flirty interaction between you two, as in pre-relationship, dragging you through his taunting Pantalone would have simply chuckled and stood selfishly with a smug smirk. Yet the circumstances are different now, and his attitude changes as well. He places his gloved hand on his cheek, his eyes shut.

“Of course you would do that”, he gives you a look full of hesitation and apology, but does not say the apology itself outloud. “An amiable little reaction you have.” He walks away, preparing himself to bear with a little crimson mark on his cheek for a while. His face buried into the paperwork as much as possible to prevent his employees from unnecessary curious questions.

Ayato

Ayato lets out a tiny gasp at the slap, which does not guilt you into pitying him, since he has done quite wrong and coldly.

“We shall discuss it later, at the dinner perhaps.” He gives you one last look, full of calculation as he tries to find a hint of frustration in your face, but only finds anger. He bows to you with pristine elegance and retreats to his chambers.

Capitano

“What is the meaning of this, woman?!” You wanted to slap him but the attempt did not go as smoothly as you’d like; Capitano’s thick skin is hard to the touch and your hand appears bruised upon attacking him. Of course he is so strong, almost invincible, you can't even bring justice to him without hurting yourself.

“If you just wanted to call me out, you could speak with your words”, he looks at you, wincing slightly. “But I must admit, the hit was good enough to make me feel punished.”

Dottore

Dottore catches your hand before you can deliver the slap, but you slap him with another one. Loudly gasping, Dottore expresses his utter resentment.

“So bold, little brat. I don't know if I should feel sorry or impressed by your audacity.”

Dottore rubs his cheek with annoyance, not admitting his fault just yet, but muttering a curse under his breath.

“Fuck, it stings.”

Alhaitham

You are the last person he’d expect to be hit by, however the motivation of your doing is clear for the both of you.

“Fine. Shouldn't have said so, shouldn’t have”, Alhaitham raises his apologetic, ashamed eyes and finds you walking away. “But don’t go now. I insist you talk to me first.”

Kazuha

Kazuha’s cheek is reddened upon your slap and he bears with the sting nobly. For a few seconds he doesn't say anything, giving the heated ambience between you two way to cool down.

You sigh heavily, realising how rarely it is you are tempted to punish him. The misunderstandings between you are not a regular occurrence, but even such amiable man like Kazuha may be insufferable sometimes. 

“Look, I’m sorry. Okay?” He takes just one step towards you, his face calm but soft at the same time. “Whenever you are unhappy with my decisions, let’s talk them out. No violence next time.”

Dainsleif

He grits his teeth and groans. Dainsleif is not used to be shown disobedience, more so — having been humiliated like this. He felt fury bubbling inside him, almost like lava rushing through his veins. He wants to grab you by your neck and make you fall on your knees, not even dreaming of putting him into inferior position like that. But Dainsleif suffers and lets his anger subside.

“Don’t start something you don’t know consequences of.”

You give him one more irritated look and leave, Dainsleif slowly coming to realisation that, perhaps, he indeed said something too stupid.

Baizhu

A silent groan escapes pharmacist’s lips as you slap him over the conflict. He touches his cheek, giving you nothing but regretful look. The look is full of apology and insult, even. In the depths of his heart, he might have hoped that you’d spare him and solve the conflict more reasonably. But you are brought to the point of completely hitting him, which makes Baizhu think that the conflict was inevitable.

“I will be on reception, should you ever need me.”

[sepdet]

Merry Shitscram, Tumblr!

(transcript below cut)

Guess what I borrowed from Mom's stacks while visiting?

I won't cap the whole thing, but at least I can provide you with some selected excerpts for the next week. Yes, this IS that edition.

Transcript below.

Chapter One

FOR THE THIRD consecutive night, Captain James T. Kirk awoke with a gasp of surprise and something akin to fear clinging to the side of his throat. He blinked once, then struggled to sit up, leaning against the head of the bed his eyes scanned the dark room. Reality returned and his gaze settled on the chronometer. It was shortly after 3 A.M., Ship Standard Time, but he was wide awake and knew he would have little hope of getting back to sleep before the alarm demanded his attention at six.

Releasing the breath he'd been holding, he replayed the recurring dream in his mind, wondering why it should have disturbed him so deeply . . . and so often.

After discovering no logical explanation for its cause or its unprecedented effect on him, he tried passing it off to the fact that the Enterprise had been on routine patrol of the Romulan Neutral Zone for nearly two months—an inexcusably boring mission. But with Romulan Fleet activity increased for no apparent reason, he accepted the fact that he was bound to be a little edgy.

After another deep breath and a shake of his tousled hair, he slowly lowered himself back into the warm nest of covers,l and closed his eyes; but as expected, he was only pretending to sleep when the First Shift duty alarm sounded less than three hours later.

Stifling a yawn, Kirk entried the Deck 5 turbolift to discover the ship's first officer studying him with a lifted eyebrow.

"Morning, Spock," Kink said with a sheepish grin, wishing he'd taken the time for a cup of coffee before presenting himself publicly.

The Vulcan's head inclined in greeting, "Captain," he said formally. The doors closed and the lift began its familiar horizontal motion, but the Vulcan continued to study his friend. "Is everything all right, Captain?" he inquired presently.

"Just fine, Mister Spock," Kirk replied. "Why do you ask?" He wondered if his eyes were a trifle more red than they'd appeared in the mirror.

The eyebrow climbed higher beneath the long black bangs. "You seem. . . unusually distracted," Spock observed after a questioning moment of silence.

So much for dismissing the matter, Kirk thought. Spock's scrutiny was never escaped easily. "Would you believe me if I told you that the invincible Captain Kirk has insomnia?" he asked with a smile.

"Indeed," Spock murmured. Kirk was normally a very private individual; but now the hazel eyes seemed alight with a combination of embarrassment and mischief. The Vulcan decided not to mention that he himself had been having disturbing dreams for at least a week. "I trust you have not sought relief from Doctor McCoy?"

Kirk shook his head. "For a few hours of lost sleep?" But the twinkle left his eyes as a frown found its way to his face. "I don't know why it should bother me at all," he said, feeling some need to explain himself. "But . . . never mind, Spock," he added as the nocturnal images returned to haunt him. "It was . . . just a dream." Trying to change the subject, the smile returned to his face. "Another human shortcoming, eh, Spock?"

Something in Kirk's too-casual tone caused the Vulcan to look at him more closely. "Would you care to discuss the matter in more detail, Captain?" he asked, momentarily wondering why he didn't dismiss the subject as Kirk was attempting to do. Yet he realized that the captain's normal reservations concerning his personal life did not extend to him, just as he understood that the reverse was also true.

Kirk glanced up from where he'd been studying his boots, and felt the familiar telepathic door swing open between himself and the Vulcan. It was something which had formed between them over the years, something which had saved their lives countless times and made them brothers. He did want to discuss it, but only with Spock.

McCoy would, as the Vulcan was fond of pointing out, dispense a handful of pills and an hour of friendly advice; and though Kirk valued the doctor's friendship, he wasn't in the mood for a full battery of psychological tests to determine the cause of a simple recurring dream. He chanced a quick look at the Vulcan as a plan of action took shape in his mind.

"I haven't had breakfast yet," he began, finding an excuse he needed. "But . . . I'm sure you have, Mister Spock. After all," he continued with a broadening grin, "Vulcans never ever miss breakfast, right? You have to keep those thought-wheels well oiled and in perfect working order." He studied his first officer's lean frame. "And you never gain an ounce either!" he added with a look of mock-disgust, remembering Mc-Coy's warnings to cut back on the meat and potatoes and settle for a salad once in awhile.

The Vulcan brow lowered as Spock observed his captain's nonchalant approach. "I have not eaten this morning," he stated in straightforward contrast to Kirk's roundabout endeavors, "and I would be pleased to join you." His eyes seemed to lighten as he studied the casual way Kirk was holding in his stomach. "And we need not inform Doctor McCoy as to the menu."

—•—

(Next Time: Our lads discuss nightmares over breakfast and discover they are on the same wavelength, as usual.)

[See tag Killing Time Excerpts for more!]

[toxicrelief]

Crawling Back to You

Chapter fifteen

Synopsis: Rex doesn’t seem to mind your company much, and you don’t mind giving it, at first.

Pairing: Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Chapter: 15/?

Masterlist of all Chapters

TW: None

Note: Reader is the festering final boss. I also realized I haven’t really been offering for people to join the taglist, so let me know if you want me to add you!

Rejection was starting to get easier. Maybe it was because you had real-world experience now that you didn’t have before. Or maybe it was because you had more important things to worry about than whether a patient was going to let you heal them or not.

“I did it!” You said, almost ecstatic. You panted out a few breaths, putting your hands on your knees to try to regain your loss of oxygen.

“Did you just run here?” Cecil said dryly, handing some kind of booklet to a worker standing nearby.

“Yes!” You straightened up, still not having caught your breath. “I did it!” You repeated again, giddiness overtaking your composure.

“Don’t waste my time, kid. Did what?”

You open your mouth to answer then realize it might not be the best idea to blurt this out with everyone else around. “Oh… uh… The thing-”

He blinked at you a few times before sighing and rolling his eyes. “Alright, everyone out.” Without missing a beat the different agents and workers around the room hastily made their exit. To hold that much respect, so much immediate power. You were almost jealous; you couldn’t seem to ever get anything done without everyone around you questioning you or being suspicious. “Now, what are you talking about?”

“Viltrumite blood.” Your excitement hadn’t ebbed. “I just tested it out in the room, it’s easy- like ridiculously easy-”

“Christ, have you slept at all?”

“Yes.” You tightened your brow a bit, feeling mildly offended. “Am I allowed to be excited about something we have been working on for months or-?”

He nodded quietly, taking in the information while putting a hand over his mouth in thought. “How do you know?”

“I-” You were starting to feel a little deflated. “Well, I mean I just said, I tested it out in the training room…on the blood bag?” You wrapped your arms around you in a defensive stance. “And I felt it, yesterday I saw Mark- or Invincible or whatever. We shook hands, and I felt it. It was like he was just another person, but still, I don’t know- different.”

“Different?”

You thought carefully for a moment. “I suppose you could think about it like getting water somewhere on a trip, or just in a new place in general. The water at home you are used to, it tastes like home and you’re comfortable drinking it. Then you go somewhere new, and in other places it can taste weird, or bad even, I guess. It tastes like water, you know it’s water. But you’d rather the stuff from home.”

Cecil hummed softly, still thinking. Although you doubted he ever stopped even when he was off duty. If he ever was. “Very good, Killdeer.”

“Yeah?” You felt your excitement return a little from the direct praise.

“Yes, this is good. I want you integrated back in with the Guardians.”

“Wait, what? Already?” Your grip around your arms loosened a little, this was not at all the direction you had expected this to go.

“Yes, already. We are down three Guardians.”

“Won’t there be some resistance?” You responded quietly.

“I have spoken with the Immortal and Robot. I explained that the fainting spells are from overexertion and they took it well enough. It should get them off your back, but honestly, I’m sure it’ll still be tense.” He shifts slightly as if he isn’t sure what to say next. “Donald told me about your discussion.”

You nodded, swallowing roughly at the mention of the topic you had been avoiding thinking about since your conversation with Donald. Maybe you should be angrier with Cecil, furious that he hid it from you. You had been unhappy at the idea of it, but after talking to Donald you had received almost a type of closure. Last night you hadn’t been plagued by your repetitive nightmare. It wasn’t gone, you knew you would be seeing that grotesque imagery for a long while still to come. But now, you knew what it was. Why it happened. A part of you still blamed yourself. You should have swept the perimeter, asked Cecil if there would likely be anyone else on the premises. At the end of the day though, it had happened. You didn’t have control over it, you weren’t even conscious while doing it. But it had still happened.

Cecil had done a lot for you, at least it felt that way. He found you and encouraged your abilities. He trained you, got you a specialized room in the training facility and in the hospital. You had grown fond of him. A small voice chirped in the back of your head, was it possible you were making excuses for him? Not properly holding him accountable for anything he has done?

As if you’re the one to be holding anyone accountable.

“I am glad to see you’re…shit, I don’t know, taking it well?” He was never amazing at being sentimental or comforting. He could do it, but it seemed like he only had it in limited quantities. Saving it for widows and orphans.

You gave him a tight smile. “I manage.” After a moment of loaded silence, you spoke up again. “When should I check in with the Guardians?”

“Soon. Within the next few days is preferred.”

--

“Where did you even find this?”

“Oh, don’t get started with me, I never buy this shit.” You dropped two magazines on his lap, you had seen it for free in a random kiosk while walking outside the hospital. It was about two times smaller than the magazines Eve had brought.

“You paid money for this?” He held them up, his mouth drawn together in an almost too-intentional frown. The way his lips were slightly quivering told you that he was struggling not to laugh.

“You gonna pay me back?” You asked, sitting at the end of his bed like you had the last visit.

He opens his mouth to respond with indignation, but his words are delayed slightly as he watches you. Maybe you should have just sat in the recliner rather than right against his leg. You hadn’t even considered he might not want you to. “Well…fuck, how much were these?”

“Twenty bucks.” You lied, a small smile spreading across your face as you looked down at the booklets you had given him. They were so obviously not worth that much that it tickled you.

“Twenty- what the fuck?” He itched the section of his head that was available to him outside of the helmet contraption. “You got scammed.”

“Not my problem, is it?” You held your hand out, knowing full well he most assuredly did not have his wallet anywhere nearby.

“Just add it to my tab.” He sighs, leaning back again in his bed.

You had seen him when you first arrived this morning. Tension filling your body as you peeked through the curtains. His whole demeanor had changed at the sight of you, that same shit-eating grin that you had seen the night before spreading across his face. If he was going to be nice you were not complaining. You even found him…enjoyable? Now that he wasn’t giving you that telltale look of disgust, and spitting accusations against you, you were actually getting to know him a little. So far the conversation had mostly revolved around furniture and home décor. But this morning he even talked a little about Mark. Which you listened to with bated breath.

“Are you even listening?”

You nodded a little too quickly, with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Aw shit. You’ve got some schoolgirl crush on him, don’t you?”

“Oh, brother.” You rolled your eyes. “Have you never had a favorite hero, Rex?”

“Yes, and you’re looking at him.” He had said, looking a little bitter for the rest of your visit.

Eventually, you left to go run rounds, but now you had come back. The doctor you had been working with had shooed you away after practically tripping over you for the fifth time. Why not see just how new and improved Rex seemed to be?

You pulled your phone out in an exaggerated manner, opening your notes.

Rex’s head snapped up to watch you. “You’re not.” He uttered in disbelief

“I am.” You said, your smile grew more by the second as you typed ‘Rex: $20’ and showed the screen to him.

“Ugh. More stingy than a hooker.”

“With much less of the fun.” You laughed, putting your phone away.

“Those didn’t even cost you twenty bucks, did they?” He gave you a nasty look, but it wasn’t the same as any he had given you before. This one didn’t have the load of intention behind it. He was enjoying your company, even with all your uncertainties you knew this for sure.

You simply shrugged at him, until he let it go scoffing to himself.

“Do you want me to…” You paused, knowing it was best not to get too comfortable. Against the warning buzzers going off in your head, you decided to offer it anyway. “Do you want me to help you at all?” It was vague, you knew it was. But you also knew he would understand what you were implying.

He blinked at you, his residual smile fading slightly. “Well…”

“It’s fine really, don’t feel bad for saying no. If you ever feel bad for anything-” Fuck.

“What?” He brow drew together slightly but he didn’t say anything else, waiting for you to clarify.

“Sorry, that was- really rude, actually, shit.” Yeah, you were not making this any better. “This is just a little jarring for me.” You held your hand out at him.

“Did you just gesture to all of me?”

“Yes?” You winced, a shade of embarrassment dusting your cheeks.

He sighed, but his disposition towards you didn’t close. “I guess that makes sense.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He almost snapped, a semblance of the Rex you had known poking through. “Sorry.” He said without wasting a single breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

So, it was a conscious choice. He was choosing to be nicer. The realization of this overtook any hurt your ego might have obtained from his retort. Was this his way of apologizing for being a dirtbag to you for so long? Rather than saying it directly he just intended to pretend it never happened? You weren’t sure how the prospect of this sat with you.

“Almost broke your cover there.” You said softly, hoping your response would be well received rather than egging him on further.

He was still pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. But his lips perked up in an unmissable smile.

You felt a little more comfortable after seeing that, so you poked his leg to get his attention. His eyes opened, his gaze landing where your hand had touched then slowly traveled up to your face.

“So, what about it?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes drilled into you until you felt the need to look away. That unfamiliar feeling from yesterday returned briefly.

“Fine.” He rasped out with feigned reluctance. “But you’re not going to accidentally fuse this thing to my head, are you? ‘Cause I’ve already got accelerated healing and shit; I don’t have to risk it.” He pointed up to the metal contraption with his metal-enclosed stub.

You pretend to consider the possibility, then shrug. “I actually don’t know.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Who said I was trying to make you feel better?” You met his eyes again as you chuckled. For that moment you wondered if he was remembering the first time you had almost this exact same interaction. Back in his room after you had accidentally injured him. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Fine, let’s get it over with, Nurse Joy.” He sat up, shaking his hand out a few times before holding it out to you.

“Okay, what is that all about?”

“You don’t know who Nurse Joy is?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“Should I?”

“Did you even have a childhood?”

You just gave him an incredulous look.

“Ugh.” He pulled his hand back as you stood up to move to the recliner. Since it had wheels it was much easier to pull up to the bedside and comfortably sit next to him rather than pulling him towards the other end of the bed. “Pokémon?”

“Pokémon?” You repeated, he had to be joking.

“Yeah, fucking Pokémon, get over it.” He grumbled quietly.

“The kid’s show?”

“As I said, did you even have a childhood?”

You laughed, he seemed surprisingly embarrassed for having been the one to give you the nickname in the first place.

“I watched some SpongeBob.” You said intentionally, knowing it would irritate him. Whether it was true or not was another story. For you to know, not for him.

“Figures.” He gives you a sideways glance which you pointedly ignore. You hold out your hand, waiting for him to willingly give you his forearm, after a second’s hesitation he gives it to you. He feels warm, you’re almost concerned he has a fever, but from how lucid he is you doubt it. You brush your thumb lightly over his skin as your fingers grasp the underside of his forearm. You could swear you felt him jerk slightly. It was possible your hands were cold to him. If he felt this warm to you, they had to be.

“You good?” Rex hadn’t breathed in since you grabbed his arm. “I know it feels uncomfortable at first, but are you really not used to it yet?”

“Are you seriously asking me if I am used to feeling my skin stitch together on its own?” You nodded curtly. “Jesus Christ.” He sat back against his bed as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You snickered before closing your eyes to concentrate.

--

“You’re back?” Bulletproof froze at the door of the training room just as he was about to enter.

You glanced back at him, internally sighing. “Yep. Surprise!”

He nodded before continuing into the room, taking residence at a machine next to you. “You enjoy your break?”

You tried and failed to hold back a scoff. “Break? What break?”

He lifted several plates onto the metal bar before settling his back against the bench. “About the best you’re going to get around here.”

“How was the whole mars thing?” Small talk didn’t bother you much, it was better than tense silence. And at least he was being amicable.

“Shitty. After all of that, I’m surprised Shapesmith is staying on the team, but I ain’t leading it so-”

The conversation lulled briefly. Shapesmith was not someone you harbored poor feelings for, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t at least mildly bitter that everything came so easy to the guy. Even worse, you didn’t think he even realized just how easy he was having it.

With everything that had been happening, and all of it happening so quickly you hadn’t sat and thought about how miserable you had been. Shit, it was hard to imagine that at one point you had been attending missions with the Guardians without resistance. You were been going on missions solo too, with zero failures so far. Well…one failure. They didn’t even know about that and still, you never felt welcome. Rae was lovely, Bulletproof was cordial. Shapesmith did whatever he does, and Amanda didn’t seem to mind you. But the people who disliked you made it known, more than the people who liked you or felt neutral did.

Immortal demanding your submission hadn’t only occurred the one time. Every mission you had with him felt like a humiliation ritual. He would pause briefings to call you out specifically, asking you to repeat what he had just said. Like a fucking schoolteacher. Kate would either glance at you out of the corner of her eye, or she’d snicker quietly. Rudy let you be, but even he would question you in briefings, asking you what exactly you were planning to do. It made sense at first, to them you were just a healer. They have no clue what else you were capable of. Even still, they knew you had enhanced strength and durability as much as the next person. The first few missions should have been proof enough.

You felt yourself starting to get worked up at the unpleasant memories. Black Sampson, although he never paid you much mind, had taken it upon himself to scold you after a stakeout. Cecil and Donald lied to you to your face. And Rex… God, Rex took up enough space in your subconscious to write a fucking book. And now he got to act a little nice and it was like it never even happened? You had played into it, been glad for the lack of hostility after so long with it. Now as you were letting it fully sink in though, you realized that you needed something. You need an apology. Even if you felt that you were responsible for what happened to him and Rae, it didn’t erase everything he had done.

Still stewing in your own corner of regrets and grudges a voice sounded off that drew you out of it. At least, for the time being.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back.”

You gave Bulletproof a genuine smile. “Me too.”

--

You had been avoiding his room all day. It was like there was a detector in your head that sent off sirens every time you neared it. You thought sleeping on it would make it easier to manage but you had simply just festered. Rex was getting better. Today they were removing the headgear after you had rendered it useless with one session. As much as you hate to admit it, your return to hospital work has had extreme benefits. All of the work you did on Rex hadn’t even left you with a residual twinge. In the moment it hurt a little, but the second you removed your hand, it was over.

‘You don’t deserve to be in the Guardians’ How many times had he used that stale line with you? You weren’t worth it.

When a break finally made its way into your schedule you decided to sit in Rae’s room. Picking at something you put together haphazardly at the cafeteria earlier. “He’s so annoying.” You continued a small rant you had started up; every added sentiment just fueled the fire. Rae was not conscious to hear any of your ramblings. However, once she finally woke up you were sure she would be happy for that.

You dropped your food back onto your tray. “Do I even have the right to still be mad?” You looked her over with a sigh, before pulling her blanket up a bit higher. She was no longer in the incubator. After a brief discussion with her doctor, he told you that she was healing at a quick rate, her body was just keeping her in a comma-like state until she was healed up better. For a moment, you considered it, it would be so easy to reach forward and press your fingertips to her arm, speed it up. Cecil had told you specifically not to accelerate her healing. He probably had his reasons, not that he ever told you them.

“I miss you.” You said it softly, a whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with Rex. I don’t know if I could have stopped this, but I wish I had been able to try.” Her face showed no signs of change. The beeping on the monitor remains the same. What else had you expected?

“Sorry, I thought I heard your voice in here.” A nurse poked her head through the door, you had seen her a lot over the several days you’d been spending almost all your time at the hospital. Her name was…Stephanie? Or Stacy? Hannah?

“Yep, I’m here. Do you need me?”

“Oh, it’s no rush, Rex was just asking about you.”

“Oh, really?” You scoffed, looking back at Rae as if she could see the irony of the situation.

“…yep.” She thought you were quite odd.

“I’ll check on him in a bit, thank you.” You sighed the moment the nurse left, leaning further back into the recliner as if you could shrink out of existence. Eventually, you had to face him, you were just wasting time. “Don’t go anywhere, yeah?” Again, no response. “Tough crowd.” Hopefully, if she had been conscious, she would laugh at that rather than leave you in the awkward silence you had made for yourself.

The short walk to Rex’s room felt even shorter today, as you stood outside of it you wondered what you would say. Would you play nice? That is what you seemed to do best. You’d done it this far at least. Confrontation scared you. Eventually he would leave this room and the two of you would be on the same team again. Then again, the chance of things being awkward never had deterred him before. If it had, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Hello, Rex-” You started as you walked in, but you stopped as soon as you saw him. He was asleep. A hand still gripped around one of the pathetic magazines you had gotten for him. You had never seen him look so relaxed, almost peaceful.

God, you were becoming soft, you should wake him up and demand an apology, something. But you didn’t. You stepped past the curtain, took the magazine out of his hand, and placed it quietly on the pile. The hospital blankets always felt scratchy to you, maybe you should offer to bring his duvet from his room at the Headquarters. You straighten it out gently, your hand brushing over his in the gesture.

If the circumstances had been different, you wonder if the two of you could have ever been friends.

--

Groundhog Day. That’s a movie, right? The one where Bill Murray lives the same day over and over until he learns to fall in love or something like that. It’d been a while since you saw it, but it didn’t seem to matter. As far as you knew you were living it. Wake up, hospital, Guardians, hospital, Rae, apartment, sleep. Over and over. You had stopped by Rex’s room a few times since the last time, but it was oddly quiet, he would just read or asked you about your day. It wasn’t unpleasant, but you were positive he could sense your shift in demeanor. Maybe he was worried that if he talked too much you would remember that you were upset with him. Rae still wasn’t awake yet, but the doctor assured you it would be any day now.

“Check this shit out.” Rex flexed his left hand for you to admire.

“Oh, wow.” It was like a toddler showing you a bark chip at the park that was bigger than the rest.

“Oh, come on, you don’t think it’s at least a little cool?”

“It’s cool, Rex. But I can’t credit you for any of that, you literally had no hand in making it or installing it or-”

“Did you just make a pun?”

“Have you ever looked into getting diagnosed with ADHD or, I don’t know, literally anything that is wrong with you?”

He laughed, rubbing his new hand absentmindedly. “What’s got you so pissed off, hm?”

“Should I go grab a mirror?” You said it like it was a joke, but honestly, you weren’t sure why you were feeling so sour. You were suspicious it was probably because of the Groundhog Day thing though.

He’s quiet for a beat, looking down at his hand as if waiting for it to move on his own. “Fuck, I’m- well, you know.” He gestured at you helplessly.

“What?” You laugh, confusion clear in your inflection.

“You know.” He reiterates, his mouth opening and closing while he tries to formulate the words.

“I’m not good at riddles.” You raise an eyebrow at him, squinting slightly.

“Christ, well you know-”

“You already said that.”

“Hold on!” He would have been wringing his hands through his hair if it wasn’t about two centimeters long. “Well, I’m sorry.”

You sat for a second waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t. “Oh, that’s it? That’s all you were trying to say?”

“Baby steps, okay?” He puts his hands over his face like he’s being physically pained.

“…Okay?” Should you push him to see what exactly he was sorry for? Or just hope he meant for everything and let it go?

“I was an ass.”

“Was is a loose term-”

“Okay, first of all, can you let me get this out or are you just going to keep interjecting?”

You tilted your head to each side as if deciding, but you didn’t say anything else.

“I was an ass, and I still am.” He glanced over at you. “But I was really fucking shitty to you. And maybe it took a bullet to the head to fully see it, which is not amazing.”

You hummed in agreement, which earned you a scathing look.

“But either way, I regret it. You have always…carried your weight with the team. I just don’t like new things.” Once again you think he’s going to continue but he doesn’t.

“Oh, uh-” He’s almost wincing waiting for your response. “You don’t do this a lot do you?”

“Are you telling me I’m bad at apologizing?”

“I’d never dream of it.” You rolled your eyes, but you gave him a subtle smile. “I appreciate it.”

He nods at you, the edges of his mouth downturned trying to hide his own grin.

“Let me see.” You hold your hand out, gesturing for him to let you see his new hand.

“Hm?” He doesn’t move, holding his hand in the other direction further away from you.

“God, what do you think I’m going to do? Rip it off? Let me see. You were the one talking all high and mighty about it.”

“Be careful.” He apprehensively holds it out to you.

“Are you kidding me?” You blink a few times at him.

“I don’t know!” He says defensively. “It’s all new to me too.”

You shake your head at him, taking your nondominant hand and placing it under his wrist, then you use your dominant hand to trace lines over the faux skin. “It feels real, did they tell you what it’s made of?”

Rex didn’t respond with haste, his eyes focused on your hands. “Uh, I think they said something but I kind of wasn’t listening.”

“I don’t know what else I expected.” You sighed, placing your palm against his knuckles. You couldn’t feel…anything. Whatever this was there was no blood in it. It was entirely mechanical. “It feels so real.” You murmured softly, more to yourself than to Rex. “Lemme see the other one.” He held out his other hand without hesitation, flexing it slightly before you touched it. Now you had a hand on either of his. It was interesting, how much you could feel in his right versus his left. You were so focused on it that you got carried away for a moment, your fingers brushing lightly over his real hand.

“Does it feel the same?” Your voice came out in a hushed whisper, you were trailing your index fingers over the two separate hands. After a pause you looked up at Rex, who looked down at his hands as soon as you made eye contact.

“Uh…Yeah pretty- I’d say pretty similar.” He swallowed roughly.

You should let go, this was going on for longer than it should, you were going to make him uncomfortable. His hands were soft though, and when you brushed your touch over his knuckles on either hand, he flexed them, as if it was a reflex. It fascinated you. But it did something else too, it brought back that feeling. The one you’d been ignoring. You liked that the smallest touch caused his body to react in some way. In any way. You would have to put that away to think about later.

“Hello!” A chipper voice forced its way through your thoughts. Causing you to immediately draw back your hands from Rex. Shit, now it looked even worse because you had jumped so hard. The heat that was quickly manifesting on your face probably was also not doing you any extra favors.

“Hey, Eve.” Rex straightened up, clenching his fists against the hospital bed. “You bring any more magazines?”

“I don’t know how often you think that they release more of those, but it is not that often.” She sits down at the end of his bed, her gaze landing on you. “Hello again.”

“Hi.” You responded. You needed out. NOW.

“We didn’t get to properly meet, my name’s Eve, or, well it’s Samantha but everyone calls me Eve.”

You say your name in return, giving a mildly awkward nod of your head. God you were making it worse.

“I thought your name was Joy?” Eve gives Rex a quizzical look, and he doesn’t return it, suddenly very interested in the seam of his shirt.  

“So, how did you and Rex meet?” You really didn’t want to open that can of worms again.

“We were on the Teen Team together. That was a lifetime ago though.” She smiled at him.

Now, you had no reason to feel at all jealous. You didn’t even like Rex. Eve seemed really nice, and you were actually interested in learning more about her. But something about the way she sat down without hesitation, and the smiles she kept giving him were making you feel mildly queasy. You should really get more sleep. “The Teen Team?”

“You never heard of the Teen Team?” Rex spoke this time, surprise clear in his voice.

“I don’t really keep up with…well anything I guess.” You shrugged, you hadn’t really cared to keep posted until the Guardians were massacred.

“They were the best team ever!” Rex exclaimed loudly.

“No, they weren’t.” Eve rolled her eyes. “We weren’t even the number one teenager-centric team.”

“In my eyes we were.” He held his hands to his chest, fingers intertwined, as if reminiscing.

“Who else was on it?” You asked, gazing jumping between the two of them.

“It was me, Rex, Kate, and Robot.” Eve answered.

“Just the four of you?”

“Hey, that’s all we needed!”

You sat for a few more minutes listening to them reminisce. After one particular story about Rex staying at her house for a year straight you realized where you had recognized her. She had been in one of the pictures on his wall in his room. You weren’t sure exactly what their history was but, you were glad he was able to keep one friend off the team. It still made you feel oddly upset, but you were determined to be mature. There was genuinely no reason for you to feel like this anyway. It was stupid.

“Well, this has been lovely, truly, but I should really-”

“You should stay.” You glanced to the side to see Rex staring at you. His brow was creased slightly, his eyes slightly unsure. You wished he wouldn’t look at you like that.

“I’m sorry-” You were interrupted by a doctor peeking into the room.

“She’s awake.” Is all he said before passing on by.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. But it was so nice learning more about you, Eve.” You stood up.

“Likewise.” She smiled back.

You turned to Rex, who was still staring at you. As you made eye contact his jaw clenched. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.”

--

You wanted to hug her, but you didn’t. Instead, you walked in and stood awkwardly by the curtain as a doctor and nurse duo filled her in on what had happened. She glanced over at you a few times, but in all mostly paid attention to the two who were talking. While you waited, your mind drifted back to Rex, replaying the feel of his hand against yours. Entirely normal and definitely not indicative of anything else.  

“We’ll be in first thing tomorrow morning to run some tests, m’kay?” The doctor said to Rae, which she nodded back politely to. “She’s been in here almost every day to share lunch with you. Hell of a friend.” The doctor pointed at you. You could curl up and die.

Rae’s attention focused on you as the two of them left. “Every day, huh?”

“I think they overdramatized it a day or two.” You gave her a smile.

“Did you at least save me some chips?”

“I tried, but you never seemed to want to take them from my hand.”

Rae gave a soft chuckle, wincing after the exertion.

“Can I help?” You plopped down in the recliner, wheeling it over to the bed.

Rae laughed again, holding her hands out to stop you as you eagerly moved forward. “Hold on, let me catch my breath.”

“Sorry.” You responded quickly.

“Don’t be.” She laid back, closing her eyes for a short period before opening them again. “I appreciate the offer, but I must decline.”

You open your mouth to argue. You wanted to help her, needed to.

“It has nothing to do with you.” She says before you can interject. “I don’t want to be healed yet.”

“What? Why?” You tried not to sound like you thought she was crazy.

“I need to remember this. Remember all I have had to go through as a hero, as a Guardian. Whatever.”

You nodded even though you didn’t really understand.

“It’s exhausting, isn’t it? You win one battle, but eventually, you will lose the next. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But it’ll happen. There’s no other way for this all to end.”

You blinked a few times. “It is exhausting. But doesn’t it help to know you’re making a difference?”

“What difference?” Rae’s voice still came out soft even though her words carried bite. “I have been in this business a long time and I don’t think I have ever seen it.”

“The Headquarters is too high up. Too far.” You start, leaning forward on your knees. “I have been in this hospital for months on and off, and more recently I have been here all day every day. I can see the difference in every single patient who tells me about how a superhero saved them. It can feel like every day is exactly the same, but to them-” You gesture to the rest of the hospital. “It means everything.”

Rae nods, but she still looks exhausted.

“You don’t have to continue, Rae. You can quit.”

“Like you did?” She gives you a cheeky grin, obviously having been waiting to say something to this point.

“Well…” You sucked on your teeth trying to bide your time. “Quit is such a strong word, isn’t it?”

“I knew it!” She said triumphantly. “I told Rex that you’d be back.”

“Ugh, I’m so glad you both were so worried.” You rubbed your face tiredly.

“I wasn’t worried, I knew you’d be back. You wouldn’t leave me.” Her eyes shined. “Misses-spends-every-lunch-in-my-room-while-I’m-in-a-comma.”

“Is that going to become a whole thing now?”

“Only until I forget.” She pokes you. “How is Rex doing by the way?”

“Rex?” You pretended to have to think about it. “Yeah, I think I heard he’s doing okay.”

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“He’s good. I swear.” You laugh. “He seems to be trying to turn a new leaf.”

“Well, that’s good.” She smirked before opening her mouth, “Must have found someone worth being better for.”

“Oh my god, Rae are you still on about this?”

“He asked me for your number and address so he could apologize, there’s no way that means nothing!”

“It could mean nothing!” You respond with a layer of exasperation.

“Sure.” She lengthens the word as long as she can in a tease. You chuckle in response, covering your face with both hands.

“You could always stay with me you know.” You say it after she has gotten the teasing out of her system. “If you need a break from the Guardian’s. I have a spare room.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She reaches out, placing a hand on yours. “Thank you.”

--

You stood in a breakroom area at the hospital, taking a quick break between patients. A soft click told you that someone had entered the room with you. One glance back revealed that it was Rex, freshly healed up, flexing his new hand in front of his face. He looked good, healthy. He wasn’t wearing the hospital garbs anymore, they had been replaced by street clothes. You didn’t pay much attention to them though; your eyes were drawn immediately to Rex himself. He had his hair tied up again in the trademark look you had become accustomed to.

“Wow, you healed quickly.” You titled your head at him, hoping your voice reflected that you were happy for him, rather than sounding condescending.

“I told you, accelerated healing.” He rolled his shoulders, taking a few steps forward.

“Even still.” You closed the distance, looking him over. Accelerated healing sure, but accelerated hair growth? That really did shock you. “Well, you look good.” It slipped out, instantly making you press your eyes closed. Embarrassment hot against your face.

“Do I?” He cocked his head to the side with a smug smile.

“Don’t push it, hotshot.” Hotshot? God, when did you get so overconfident?

He stepped closer, you had to crane your neck slightly to continue looking at his face. He was standing awfully close, but you didn’t back away. Why did you never back away?

“Why do you keep visiting me? Hm?” His voice comes out in a hushed tone, ghosting over you.

“It’s good for comradery, in the team.” You stammer out, your eyes drifting down to his lips as he speaks.

“Bullshit. Maybe that first visit was just for that, but you kept coming back. You could have just come the once. But you didn’t.”

You swallowed dryly, he was leaning in slightly at this, his sage eyes searching over your face. “I needed to make sure I didn’t make a mistake. I- I mended your bullet wound.” You admitted it quietly as if you were scared for him to know. “I wanted to be sure I didn’t actually cause lasting damage.”

He sighed and stepped away from you, running a hand through his hair up to the elastic before dropping his hand to his side. “I wouldn’t have even been here if you had just come with me.”

Silence enveloped both of you. You knew that he was right, but you also hadn’t expected him to voice your exact thoughts after whatever was just happening. “I…I know.” You whispered.

“But you can make up for it, can’t you?” You looked up, feeling mildly confused, just in time to see him cross the distance he had walked away back to you. “Make it up to me.” In what felt like a millisecond his mouth was on yours. His hand travels up the back of your neck into your hair. He felt greedy, his hand closing tightly over as large of a cluster as he could grasp. He deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping over your lips to gain entry-

You snapped your eyes open, quickly adjusting to the dark. Soft rays from the streetlights far below sifted in over your curtains leaving a soft yellow glow on your ceiling. Your breath was coming out in swift heaves. It felt uncomfortably hot in your room, so you threw off your duvet, still panting in an attempt to regain your lost breath. You could still feel his hands in your hair.

Shit.

Author's Note: Guys be honest am I moving too fast? Like I know were almost at 70k words but it’s finally starting to be less one sided and I feel like I’m waterboarding you guys. Also hopefully you guys have seen or heard of groundhog day or I just mischaracterized you so bad 💔

divider credit: @/ saradika

taglist: @kittymeowmrow @sketchlove @jewelwayne101 @0ut0fsweets @sugaramped request to be tagged for new parts!

[hirayalore]

you and SIRIUS BLACK never discussed it out loud, but you both knew that you didn’t want to have kids after everything that happened in the last 13 years.

it wasn’t always like that, though (contrary to popular belief). he could faintly remember back then when both of you were still studying in hogwarts that you’d open the prospect of having children with him and having a family someday—and sirius, although scared to death at the thought of ever raising kids his own when he didn’t even grow up with good parents himself, was amicable with the idea if it meant that he’d see little versions of you running around in your future home.

but then he was imprisoned for 12 years, and that was 12 years of not spending every single day with you, of not waking up in bed beside you, of not being able to share meals, of not being able to do the most normal things that young couples did in their twenties… of not being able to propose, of getting married, of having a family together…

so, when he came back and got his name cleared by the ministry, all he wanted was to make up for that lost time. you and him were already 37 years old after all, and although it wasn’t relatively old, he still felt like both of your years ahead would never be enough to compensate for what has been taken—making the prospect of having kids and having to think of someone else other than yourselves unappealing.

until one night, he decided to make a bold step in knowing whether you two were truly on the same page like he was assuming. you never told him about your opinion regarding it, but in the way you were with him after his return, he could feel it in his bones that you didn’t want to focus on anything else other than your rekindled relationship with each other.

but he just had to make sure.

“darling,” he murmured, as you two were trying to fall asleep, his arms around you while your nose was nuzzling his throat, “do you… still ever think about having children?”

you raised your head up almost immediately, meeting his gaze. “what’s with the question?”

“nothing. it’s just that—it’s something we used to talk about. ages ago, really.”

“yeah, it was.” your eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if you were trying to recall the times you did talk about it. “we used to plan that we’d buy a flat in london and live in a muggle city, just to piss your parents off further.”

he chuckled. “we did.”

“and we’d have two kids. one girl and one boy.” you smiled, faintly remembering now.

sirius nodded. “they’d both should have my eyes—”

“and then have the rest of my features, with the nose being a requirement.” you finished for him, saying the exact line he used to tell you back then. 

the two of you laughed at the memory, fascinated at how the teenage mind works when you’re in love. at that age, you always felt invincible, like nothing could ruin the plans that you and your lover have made for yourselves. you would always believe that everything would go smoothly and that happily-ever-after was right next door, never ever thinking that adulthood could potentially drive you crazy or in this case, a dark wizard was going to try to seize control over your people.

when the laughter died down, you gazed deeply at each other, understanding that just as the times have changed—so have the circumstances and ultimately, your decision.

you ran your fingers on the side of his head, combing parts of his hair, admiring the manner in which his face showed nothing but quiet contentment.

“maybe in another life,” you began, voice coming out as a whisper, “we’d have those things. we’d have kids, and have a big home, but right now…” you leaned closer and pressed your forehead against his, savoring the proximity you once longed for in thousands of nights. “i’m happy with just the two of us. with you, sweetheart.”

sirius smiled and nodded, a hand gently rubbing along the expanse of your back, tugging you closer. “me too, love.” he sighed. “me too.”

with no other words needed to be spoken, you pressed a brief yet firm kiss on his lips before sinking back in your previous position, embracing him and nestling in his arms, knowing that even an eternity of making up for what fate had stolen would never feel enough.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Things will start to get interesting now, let me know your thoughts. <3

Word count: 4,9k

Masterlist | Previous chapter (prologue)

You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with both arms open lazily beside your body, wind flowing quickly in between your fingers. The skies were clear, morning sunlight reflecting against ashen blue scales as your dragon's wings stretched to their full size.

Dancing and gliding in between clouds, the sky was yours.

As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a sight that would always leave you breathless, no matter how many times you'd be privileged to witness it. The lands below seemed small, castles, houses, and fields afar dwarfed by how far up you were flying. You could see beyond walls and mountains, as far as the horizon allowed. The back of your dragon's head stretched forward in a relaxed manner, seemingly taking in the view just as much as you; the patch of fur in between her long grey horns flew and flowed with the strong breeze.

You reached your arm past your saddle, the palm of your hand laying flat against her warm scales in a loving caress. She cooed, a low groan coming from the back of her throat as she turned her head slightly so her deep blue eyes met yours for only a moment. You smiled. Khamira had grown to be just as big as Meleys, she was all raw power and formidable wildness, and yet, ever so gentle in your hands.

It would never cease to amaze you, how a beast as strong and majestic as a dragon—wings and legs supported by pure muscle, teeth and horns as sharp as daggers, and fire as hot as the hells—could at the same time be this graceful, this agile, and elegant.

Her wings swished with precision, creating ripples in the clouds as if painting a canvas; her long tail kept her body straight and balanced; multiple shades of dark and pale blue shone under the sunlight with each movement of her body. She was poetry in motion, carrying you through the morning sky on her back.

The feeling, the pleasure, of riding on dragonback was incomparable; a mixture of being invincible, untouchable, and yet completely at peace.

You leaned forward at last, uttering a soft command for her to pick up speed and the adrenaline was quick to kiss your cheeks in the form of a heavy wind. Your dragon bomb-dived suddenly, bringing her wings close to her body and her muzzle downwards. An ecstatic laugh escaped your lips as you felt the power of her body moving beneath you, taking you through the air.

She only opened her wings again when you were short of hitting the roof of a tall church, returning to a steady height as you flew fast above King's Landing. The dragon addicted to the rush just as much as you.

If people looked up, they would see nothing but a flash of blue, the silhouette of massive wings and a long tail vanishing just as fast as it came.

For the first time in seven years, you were finally heading back to the Red Keep. Vaemond had called into question Luke's legitimacy of birth, as he was to be Driftmark's heir, prompting you and your family to meet him for the discussion in King's Landing. While the rest of your family came by ship, you chose to ride over on dragonback and meet them there. The swaying of a ship on the ocean's water could make you nauseous, but flying in between clouds always cleared your head and filled your lungs with the fresh air of unabashed freedom.

After bidding goodbye to your loyal dragon as she was guided into the Dragonpit to rest, a carriage took you to the main gates of the Keep. The guards welcomed you with salutes and curtsies, something you were yet to get used to, even with being born into the royal family.

You were headed to the doors of the castle when they were pushed open by an older, bald man. He walked up to you and bowed his head. "Welcome home, my lady. Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra are already inside, they've gone to speak with the King."

Greeting him back with a nod, you smiled softly; "Thank you..." You dragged the word, raking your head to remember who exactly this was.

"Caswell, my lady," he kindly finished for you.

"Thank you, Lord Caswell."

The castle itself was still as grand and majestic as you remembered it to be, in some ways it didn't even feel like the last time you were here was so many years ago. The torches flickered softly along the grand hallways, casting a warm, golden glow on the stone walls as you walked aimlessly. Although you already had a designed room for your stay here, you refrained from changing out of your riding clothes, choosing to stay in black breeches and a long overcoat rather than a silken dress.

You eventually got hold of Jace and Luke who were also wandering about the castle and reminiscing on their childhood here. Despite your differences and disagreements during early childhood, you'd grown closer with both boys during your time at Dragonstone. Quickly enough, between dragon rides at sunset and playing together day in and day out, they became almost like brothers to you.

"It's so cool to be back here," Luke spoke, excitedly walking ahead of you and Jace, "I wonder why we haven't visited more."

"You know why, Luke," Jace raised a brow, his voice holding a smidge of warning to it. "It's not like we parted on the best of terms."

Immediately you knew what he was talking about. You recalled it as if it had been yesterday. Laena's funeral, the commotion in the dead of night, the red of blood, stitches piercing the skin of the prince who'd lost an eye. Your heart sped up then, hands feeling clammy and cold at the same time.

Aemond. He'd be here too, surely. It's been far too long since you've seen him, yet not long enough for you to stop counting the years. Part of you wondered if he did so too.

Something like guilt started weighing down on your stomach, because there had been letters exchanged over the years, mostly holding empty promises that you'd see each other again soon. A young hope that was snuffed out as you got older and wiser; it never happened, it was out of your reach. And for many seasons now, there had been no letters at all. You weren't sure who stopped first, there just came a day when you knew not to send another letter his way, because you wouldn't be getting any back either.

"Why don't we check out the training yard?" You suggested with a grin, "To remember the times when I kicked your butts there." With a giggle, you pushed Jace's shoulder halfheartedly.

"Hey, hey, I don't remember any of that," Jace countered, holding back a smile of his own, whilst Luke was already chuckling with a hand over his mouth.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

The sound of swords clashing was already loud and sharp as you descended the stairs to the training yard; many people were there, some sparring with each other as others watched and clapped and gossiped.

"Looks smaller than I remembered," Luke commented as he glanced around.

"It looks exactly the same," Jace concluded, skipping the last few steps of the stairs and landing on the gravel grounds of the yard. "Come on, you two."

The older of the brothers ran forth to check a dent in the stone walls, a mark of their old training days here. You, on the other hand, stopped to check out the weapons displayed for choice on the tables; maces, morningstars, swords, and daggers.

A faint smile came to your lips. The smell of smoke and sweat, the clash of metal, the grunts and cheering of the soldiers—it all reminded you of cherished memories. Firstly, of the first lessons your father had ever given you, sword all too big and heavy in your small hands, you were only five, yet he insisted that regardless if you were a boy or girl, you should learn how to fight; you still remember the first time you were finally able to best him in combat, you were ten, it took you five years but you had done it; Daemon smiled the biggest on that day, telling everyone how his daughter was a born fighter. And secondly, came the memory of your sparring sessions with Aemond when you were young, he'd refused to put up a fight in the beginning, afraid he'd hurt you; but he started to give you a fair fight when you'd bested him the second time around; you still remember how he'd run around the castle, searching for you and then holding onto your hand to lead you to the training yard, "You're too slow," he used to say with a smile, "If I don't drag you around we won't be there on time."

Part of you wished those moments were infinite.

By the time your mind returned to the present, Luke and Jace had joined you. Jace began picking up the weapons on the table with an excited grin; yet Luke seemed on edge, glancing around himself and at the piercing gazes on your backs from the people here. You felt it too, the judgment and the whispers.

"What's wrong, Luke?" You asked, one hand reaching up to touch his arm comfortingly.

The boy furrowed his brows in discomfort, head hanging low. "Everyone's staring at us."

A soft grimace passed over your features as you tilted your head at him, eyes glinting with silent understanding. In part, you knew what he was feeling, you'd received your fair share of odd glances when at court as well; you were a royal prince's daughter yet had hair in the shade of the warmest grey that almost resembled brown in certain lights, and eyes as dark as the night sky, so of course, people would talk.

"No one would question me being heir to Driftmark," Luke spoke, his tone a mix of frustrated and defeated as he still avoided your gaze, "If... if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon, than Ser Harwin Strong."

"It doesn't matter what they think," Jace at last spoke up, ducking his head to meet his brother's eyes.

"He's right, Luke," you reassured, "Don't mind them."

A sudden crash of something heavy hitting a wooden shield caught your attention then, and all three of you turned around to watch as a small crowd gathered around two people sparring. Luke and Jace ran toward it to watch, so you followed close behind, squeezing yourself past and between a few people so you didn't have to stand on your tiptoes to catch glimpses of the fight.

One of the two you recognized almost instantly, Ser Criston Cole, you had never particularly been too fond of him. The other, who still had his back to you, you hadn't recognized, even if there was something familiar about the way he moved. His long silver hair bounced over his shoulders as he dodged Cole's attacks quite expertly; his movements swift, calculated, and still somehow elegant. The shield held by the mysterious man broke and he threw it aside without a second thought, going in for another attack. The sword cut through the air, Cole's morningstar slammed into the ground, and finally, the silver-haired man turned in your direction.

A teasing grin and an eyepatch framed the sharp features of the young man, his single bright eye glinting under the hazy sunlight as he held the sword with a firm grip, ready for another attack.

You felt as if all air suddenly left your lungs and refused to come back, your lips hanging open as your gaze was all but locked onto him. Aemond. You'd recognize him anywhere, in any lifetime, you feared. He looked so different yet somehow still the same; his hair was much longer, features older and sharper as he'd grown over the years; his harsh scar, you noticed, was now fully healed, and yet still evident as a reminder of the fateful night he'd claimed Vhagar and lost his eye; but his smile seemed to be the same you were used to, that mischievous tilt of lips he'd wear against his opponents.

A smile of your own began to stretch your lips and you took half a step toward him before stopping yourself, your heart beat painfully against your ribs and in your ears, bringing a nearly nauseous twist to your guts. It felt as if your body had trouble picking an emotion upon seeing Aemond again after all these years.

You'd wished, prayed even, for the day you'd finally be able to meet one of your best friends again; the lonely, outcast boy you had grown so fond of over the course of mere months. The one you had shared most of your afternoons in the Red Keep with, the one who'd steal you away to the library to share tales of the old dragons. Yet seeing him now, after so many seasons of pure silence, you had no idea where you stood with him.

The fight ended with Aemond holding the sharp end of his sword against Cole's neck, staring him down as a dragon would with its prey.

"Well done, my prince," Ser Criston spoke, rather breathless from the exertion, "You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys," Aemond answered back without pause, his tone filled with finality and eye holding a piercing stare. "My lady," he said then, voice just a tad softer, whether he meant for it or not. Twisting the hilt in his hand, Aemond lowered his sword, his gaze now landing on you. "Have you come to train?"

You were unable to hold back a small gasp as he addressed you so directly. Your whole body tensed up, part of you wanted to answer yet any and all words were completely tangled in your tongue. You could faintly feel Jace's hand on your shoulder yet you barely registered the touch, unable to tear your eyes away from Aemond. And he held your gaze with his unwavering one, almost challenging you to break the connection.

It felt all kinds of wrong, for this to be your reunion and first words to each other after so long, for Aemond's words and gaze to be this... cold. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

You were saved by the sudden opening of the heavy doors of the gate behind you. Soldiers marched through with proud strides as they escorted Vaemond Velaryon into the castle.

Even as you turned around to watch their entrance, you could feel how Aemond's gaze didn't leave you even for a moment.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

A storm raged outside during your first night back in the Keep, you didn't sleep much, tossing and turning in bed and pacing around the spacious room they'd given you. Part of you almost wanted to step outside into the dark hallways of the castle and head to Aemond's room. It would be improper of you, but that's not why you did not go.

When the morrow came at last with the sun rising on the horizon of King's Landing, it was time to head into the throne room to discuss what you had come here for, the succession of Driftmark.

A small crowd of lords and ladies had already gathered in the large room, with Otto Hightower standing before the grim Iron Throne. The image of the seat of swords, being highlighted by the sunlight coming through the tall windows, would always make a shiver run down your spine.

You walked in with steady steps, sensing a few eyes land on you as you smoothed the fabric of your dress—hardly your preferred choice of attire, but Rhaenyra might just have your head if you showed up in your riding clothes. She, her sons, and your father were already here as well.

Daemon spotted you from the corner of his eyes, he squeezed Rhaenyra's hand once before stepping away from her to walk toward you.

"Father," you spoke in a low voice when he met you halfway. Over his shoulder, you caught sight of Aemond, who stood near the Iron Throne with his family; for a small moment, you held his gaze, even if you couldn't possibly read it.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," Daemon raised his brows at you, a rather amused grin playing on his lips.

"Oh, you know me," you chuckled quietly, shrugging your shoulders as you continued walking to where Rhaenyra waited, "I wouldn't miss court drama for anything."

Daemon snorted, uncaring if his laugh would attract the attention of the nearby lords, "Yeah, tell me about it." He brought a hand up to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you through the remaining steps. "It's like they look for reasons to break any resemblance of peace we might have."

You hummed at his words, biting back a laugh of your own, "Se iēdrosa, Rhaenyra ivestretan nyke ao gaomagon naejot mōris se lyks aōla gō īlen āzma." ('And yet, Rhaenyra tells me you used to raise quite the trouble yourself before I was born.')

"Kessa, sȳrī, īlen drējī tolī kirimves skori paktot zirȳ, mērī." Daemon defended halfheartedly. ('Yes, well, I was admittedly more fun than these people, at least.')

"Hen rhinka," you mumbled, stopping beside Rhaenyra and greeting her with a warm smile. ('Of course')

From the other side of the room, the one-eyed prince watched. He'd kept his eye fixed on you as soon as you stepped through the throne room doors. His hands clasped behind his back tightened their grip with each step you took. And for each of your steps, his heart beat twice as hard, heavy and hurting for an escape.

It was true that you had grown into a stunning young woman over the years; enticing curves, soft hair falling over your shoulders, freckles still dusting your cheeks and nose, delicate hands holding onto the fabric of your dress. Many gazes turned your way whenever you walked into a room, it came as no surprise to Aemond, even if it bothered him.

And yet it wasn't just that, no; he could see so far beyond, that same spark in your eyes lingered, the one he'd see each time he'd ask you to tell him the story of how you found your dragon; that same smile that was so contagious still had the same sway to it; your mere presence still made his heart race and hands itch to touch you, as it always did.

Aemond thought, perhaps wished, he would have forgotten all about you over the years. You had abandoned him, after all. You had abandoned him, maybe at a time when he needed you the most. His only friend, and you never came back.

The prince had waited, for nights and days on end, he'd stare out the windows to the horizon and past the sea, hoping with all he had that one day he'd spot the blue hue of your dragon's scales in the distance. And he knew he'd cry, and run to you, and hold you close no matter who was watching. But it never happened, you never came. And the years kept on going by, years of which he kept a close count. By year three, he decided he wouldn't feel within the right to hug you anymore. By year four, he decided he wouldn't cry anymore. By year six, he decided it would be best you didn't come back anymore.

Alas, perhaps he could have gone to you. But he hesitated, he knew he wouldn't be welcomed in Dragonstone; and after a few years went by, as much as Aemond would never admit it, he lacked the courage to go after you. In the most fragile parts of his heart, he feared you'd react as all ladies of the court did when they looked at him; with wide-eyed gazes and poorly concealed whispers about his ugly scar and 'off-putting demeanor', as they'd say.

Yet he had missed you, oh he missed you. In a way that he'd walk into every room hoping to find you there. And now, it finally happened. You came back to King's Landing, but you didn't come back for him.

Aemond watched as you walked into the room, your father meeting you halfway and guiding you to your family. The prince felt a tightness build in his throat, he tried to gulp it back, squaring his shoulders. Even after all these years, all it took was one look at you, and Aemond's resolve crumbled. All his attempts at putting you behind him were suddenly futile, if the speed at which his heart was racing was any indication.

Yesterday, when Aemond spotted you in the small crowd of the training yard, he nearly lost his balance, nearly lost the fight. Seeing you again after so long brought an onslaught of confusing feelings to his chest—one of them being petty bitterness, perhaps even betrayal, despite not having the right to feel so, for seeing you stand beside Jace and Luke so amicably—he hardly knew what to think or do; all he knew was that he was angry that you'd abandoned him. Or perhaps just hurt, but broken things tend to have sharp edges.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You held back a scream as the severed head of Vaemond Velaryon fell from his body, staining the floor of the throne room with deep crimson blood. Your father had unceremoniously beheaded the Velaryon knight after he accused Rhaenyra's sons of being bastards. You watched the gruesome scene with wide eyes, goosebumps on your skin, and a hand clasped over your mouth.

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower screamed to the guards, who readily took to their weapons and surrounded Daemon.

"No need," the Rogue Prince uttered all too calmly, cleaning the blood off the blade of his sword with the hem of his clothing. He then extended said sword to you, without bothering to look in your direction.

You hesitated for only a second before taking Dark Sister from him, and once you did so, Daemon raised both hands in surrender; yet a smug smirk still played on his lips.

You held tight onto the hilt of his sword, until your knuckles turned white, watching as the room filled with fearful whispers and terrified gazes of everyone around you. All eyes were seemingly glued to the pool of blood on the floor that only got larger by the second.

"We are done here," Viserys spoke with finality to the best of his ability, before falling back on his throne as the pain of his wounds filled his decaying body.

Slowly and hesitantly, people began leaving the room, a certain eeriness lingered in the air. From afar, you met your father's gaze, and he simply gave you a curt nod, which meant you'd be giving him his sword back in private, later. He'd told you once; "People don't usually fear women with swords, even if they should. Therein lies your advantage."

Beside the Iron Throne, a few steps away from you, Alicent ran to help her husband, Aegon followed after the guards who began removing the lifeless body, Helaena skipped to the main doors with her hands covering her ears, and Aemond... Aemond had his eye burning a hole in the back of your head.

You would be able to feel the weight of his gaze on you from a mile away, you had been feeling it since you took the first step into this room. Part of you hoped he'd have come to you already, you weren't sure what you were expecting exactly, but so far the words he'd spoken to you in the training yard had been the only ones he'd spoken at all. And you were starting to think that, if you didn't go to him, you'd remain forever far apart.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and then another, and one more, tapping the hilt of Dark Sister with your pointer finger until you built up the courage or until your palms grew sweaty. A sorrowful feeling still lingered deep within your chest, because this was Aemond, the same Aemond you spent nearly entire days with during your childhood, be it training together, sharing stories, or hiding away in the library. You shouldn't be feeling hesitant to face him.

It felt almost as if he had been waiting for you, because as soon as you turned around to face him, Aemond raised his chin a tad, blinking slowly as he watched you walk over to him.

All you could hear was the beating of your heart as you came to stop in front of him, holding tight onto the sword in your hands, its end resting on the floor as you kept it between you and him. "Hello... Aemond." It was the best you could do, voice still too unsure for your liking.

For a moment, Aemond seemed to be hesitating just as much as you. His eye flicked with an emotion you couldn't name, but it was quick and gone as soon as it came. "My lady."

The formality felt wrong and unwanted, like taking a thousand steps backward from what you had once been to each other. Your lips parted but you didn't quite know what to say, so for a moment, you just looked at him, at the new him. The long hair fell over his shoulders, eyepatch covering the deep scar, his perfectly straight posture, and tense shoulders. You saw then, that there was an undeniable wall between you, that Aemond had his guard up and was keeping you at a safe, far distance. It hurt, more than you had the right to feel.

"I'm- It's good to see you again," you stumbled over the words, trying a smile.

Aemond hummed, giving you an almost imperceptible nod in return. For long beats, that was all. He refused to look you in the eyes. "It's been a long time," he chose to say eventually, voice devoid of too much emotion.

Distantly, you felt the back of your eyes burn. "Seven years," you said in nothing but a whisper, as if you could only admit the unfairness of it at a certain decibel level.

"And four months," Aemond finished, his voice just a tad tighter and strained, breath running shallow as he strived to keep his face impassive.

His words took you by surprise, you couldn't help the way your lips parted and the way your heartbeat quickened. He'd kept count, too.

Aemond pursed his lips with something resembling a small pout, he glanced at you briefly as he slowly started walking towards the doors of the throne room, silently beckoning you to follow, his hands still tightly clasped behind his back.

You kept at his side, choosing your words carefully; "I hope... you've been faring well, my prince?"

A low hum came from Aemond again, "As well as a half blind man can be, yes." He stole another glance at you, feeling his heart swell at the fact you'd kept in mind to stay on his good eye's side. "I assume your time at Dragonstone has been a most joyful one?"

You caught the bite at his words then, the concealed hurt. A sigh fell past your lips, the sound of Valyrian steel against stone each time you took a step and tapped Dark Sister on the floors now becoming sharp and loud, as the room was empty, save for you and Aemond. "It was, at times, yes. But I also missed the liveliness of the Keep... on most days." I missed you, you refrained from saying.

Another hum, another beat of silence, as you neared the doors. "I hear you came on dragonback." Aemond observed.

A small smile tugged at your lips; "I did. I've always favored the skies over the seas."

If you looked at Aemond, you'd see him mimicking your soft smile for once. "On that we agree."

Once you reached the main entrance, Aemond stopped, and you had a feeling that regardless of which way you were headed, he'd be going the opposite direction.

He held his stance, chin high, shoulders tensed, hands behind his back. His breath ran shallow and shaky, however, hanging on by a thread under the weight and warmth of your presence; so close.

And you looked up at him, with big and vulnerable eyes. Part of Aemond had always admired how you had a habit of wearing your heart on your sleeve. And he was well aware that if he held your gaze much longer, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together.

"I will see you again soon then, my prince." You spoke with a tight lipped smile.

Yet what were simple words to you, brought back the memories of the last time you'd promised to see him soon, and instead left him alone for seven years. Aemond's sight grew blurry at the edges, and before you could see the tears collecting in the bottom lid of his eye, he cleared his throat and made his way around you.

You watched, with a heavy heart, as he walked away from you, one hand reaching up to his face as his steps quickened.

Your stomach dropped with a mix of guilt and longing, wondering if the distance between you had become one too big to ever be mended.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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[kirietown]

Charmless Morning | Ch. II

Pairing: mark grayson x f!reader

Summary: before there was the hive, there was only you.— or perhaps before there was you, there was the hive? it hurt your head to think about it, but all you knew for certain was that now you were one in the same, and if the hive wanted mark grayson, then so did you.

Content: mind hive control, college move in!, the hive shenanigans, minor body horror

18+

[chapter one] [chapter two] — ongoing series

Word count: 2.1K

a/n: i promise we will have mark appear in the next chap <3

College meant a lot of things; change was the most major thing. Luckily, you hadn’t gone through many throughout your first week. Though it was difficult to part with your bees; your backyard had grown into a large sanctuary over the course of your adolescence and housed thousands of bees of various breeds. You promised them you’d see them on the weekends because thankfully it was only a half hour drive from your college. 

Upstate was promising, but you had no interest in socializing— and had heard plenty of roommate horror stories on Reddit that caused you to implant a bee as soon as you saw your roommate come in with a scowl on her face and more luggage than necessary. Her name was Darla-May, a second year, (not Darla, not May, but Darla-May), and she grew up in the city but had some questionable tradwife views. Had you not planted the bee in her brain, you would have never found out about the fact she was planning to have her group of friends harass you to force you to drop out so she could have the room to herself. 

Luckily, campus was buzzing with bees and you managed to find one for each of them! They lived life the same, though now you made sure they wouldn’t be hurting any more girls on campus. The Hive was truly a blessing. You now had your very own friend group, something most university students struggle with for months. They made it easier to seek out the one you were looking for, Mark Grayson, who apparently was a friend to William who had been dating Rick, who unfortunately was MIA— or possibly dead? You didn’t bother with the details, and The Hive was able to handle the rest. 

You’d learnt a few things about Mark Grayson since your stay on campus; 1. He has a girlfriend named Amber,— this, the hive was displeased by for some reason. 2. He was the superhero Invincible, son of Omniman,— though it seemed the hive already knew this. 3. Mark Grayson was not on Earth at the moment, and although The Hive knew most things, it appeared that outer space was its hard boundary. 

“How can I get close to him if he’s not even on the planet?” 

You sighed as you laid in bed and pondered over your situation. Darla-May was fast asleep in her own bed across from you, and you didn’t have to worry about potentially waking her up because her bee ensured a strict sleep schedule (she used to have a bad TikTok addiction and it was what led her down the tradwife pipeline). It wouldn’t wake her unless you wanted her to wake, or if it felt as though she were in danger. 

We wait. In the meantime, we have to prepare. 

“Prepare?” 

We’ve been tailing Amber and William. Their discussions imply that Mark has a habit of putting his hero duties over his personal life. We won’t get anywhere by trying to get through to him through there. 

“But how will we be able to do that?” You furrowed your brows in confusion,— just how could you infiltrate his superhero life? 

Is it not obvious? 

“No…” You knew where this was going, but you didn’t like the thought of it. College was supposed to be your biggest worry, but it seemed like The Hive had a different agenda for you.

Becoming a superhero was easier said than done— even with the help of The Hive. Outside of class time, The Hive had you on a strict regimen when it came to exercise and concentration. You’d learnt that if you focused your attention enough, you could connect to any bee in the country if you had to. The Hive was convinced you could link to every single one on the planet if you continued to strengthen your link. 

By the end of your second week of training, you were already stopping petty burglaries amongst other smaller crimes. You were pleased, but The Hive was convinced you could do more. 

We have to get the GDA’s attention. Go after something major, and then we’re in. 

“I don’t get why you can’t just plant a bee in one of their top agents or something…” You sighed. You walked casually on the sidewalk until you came across the tailor shop you had been looking for. You needed a proper costume now that some time had passed, as The Hive believed a baggy sweater and a scarf wasn’t heroic enough. The shop you chose was old fashioned, but it was the closest one to campus that seemed low key. You needed something that didn’t seem like it attracted a lot of visitors.

They’re incredibly thorough when it comes to access. We can’t risk them believing we’re some type of foreign invasion nor would they understand us regardless. We’d have to get their director, Cecil Stedman,— but we don’t want him to join our hive. 

The Hive was picky sometimes when it came to allowing certain individuals into its domain. Planting bees into your parents, and most regular people was fine. But it drew hard boundaries during other occasions and you weren’t sure why. 

We find him icky. 

“Hello?” You called into the tailor shop, stopping by the counter until a man emerged from a back door. 

“Hello to you as well,” he replied in a chipper tone. “My apologies, I’m the only person who works here and so it’s hard for me to manage the desk and work on suits at the same time. It feels like a back and forth between the back and the front. But it’s why I have the bell here,” he explained with a sigh, and ended his ramble by pressing his hand against the bell on his counter. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “So what can I do for you?” 

“Well,” you said. “I’m trying to get my own suit too, but something of a more niche nature. Actually, I’m glad you mentioned you’re here alone because it makes this so much easier.” He furrowed his thick brows in confusion at your words, and you only smiled tenderly. 

“Sorry,” you said. “The little guy I picked out for you is a little shy.” You sighed dramatically before you reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a mellow bumble bee. “C’mon,” you said softly. “I know you’re young but I promise you it’ll be fine.”

”Look girl,” he said as he backed away in worry. “I don’t know what you’re on about but—“ his words were cut abruptly as the bee in your hand quickly flew off and went straight into his ear. He choked for a moment, stunned, before his expression changed to one of familiar neutrality. You sighed in relief, glad that your little friend finally got over his confidence issues. It wasn’t that the bees didn’t want to work, some were afraid of disappointing The Hive as it was a great honour to work directly for you both.

You shut your eyes, suddenly in tune with the memories of the tailor. “Okay Derek,” you said, though you didn’t need to speak physically, but you had begun to prefer it over the years due to the history of silence between yourself and your parents. “You know what to do.” 

You turned to take a seat on the couch, and watched him bring out various yellow fabrics and immediately started to work at a quickness that was beyond human. No, it was a quickness only made possible by The Hive, and its little friend.

The entire process of making your superhero costume, which would normally take any tailor several weeks, only took an hour. He needed no measurements as The Hive knew all there was to know about you and your preferences and thus your suit had been made. 

You stepped around the mannequin Derek had assembled it on and noted the fairy like appearance of the top and skirt. You pursed your lips at the sight, noting the wide open back— you weren’t opposed to a backless look but you didn’t realize the hive would select something so… revealing. 

The back is open for a reason. But unrelatedly, we want to catch Mark’s attention. 

You stepped back in shock at the words that rang in your head. “I thought you just wanted to get close to him— did you mean seduce him?” You paused for a few moments and waited for The Hive’s reply but it didn’t come. “Are you there?”

Yes. Are our intentions not obvious? 

“He has a girlfriend, which you’re aware of…” You paced around, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of The Hive trying to set you up with a guy you never even met. 

She doesn’t seem very happy with him.

”Whoa,” you said with a snort. “I’ve never heard you sound so snappy before, you’re usually so monotone. Why do you need this guy so bad?” You halted your walking and found yourself in front of the costume again, admiring the bright and sparkly fabric. It ideally fit the criteria of both cute and sexy. You could see Derek at the corner of your eye standing stiffly, if he had been paying attention to your conversation he didn’t show it. The Hive had said his implant would be temporary anyway, you only needed him for his skill, and now that the bee had been in his brain long enough, anyone connected both now and in the future to The Hive could duplicate his skillset. 

Everything was shared once you were a part of The Hive; in fact, everyone with a bee in their head currently knew exactly where you were right now and what you were feeling. 

Awkward. 

We think he’s an ideal candidate for us. 

“Because he’s some B-tier superhero?”

No, because he’s part extraterrestrial. It is the link we have been ready for. 

“I see,” and you really didn’t. You just hated to question The Hive too much; if The Hive got too agitated, your head would start to hurt. It wasn’t a normal pain either— it was punishment. You knew better than to question The Hive’s choices or authority. You weren’t sure why you bothered to now. 

You turned and allowed Derek to pack up the suit and associated mask. You thanked him and paid him generously for his services before you summoned his bee back into your palm. You watched his expression shift from contentment to confusion within seconds before you thanked him again and exited the store. You knew he wouldn’t remember anything that had just happened, and thankfully you didn’t have to fix any cameras as the store didn’t have any. 

That night you slept pleasantly until you awoke from immense pain searing across your back. You flailed in bed for a few seconds before you tumbled out and ripped your shirt off and threw it across the room. It hit Darla-May straight in the face but she didn’t stir whatsoever much to your annoyance. Wasn’t she supposed to sense your pain? 

We can’t see but she’s crying in her sleep, The Hive said solemnly. They all are. That’s why we waited to do this in the middle of the night. 

“W— what are you doing to me?” You cried out. You curled your back and pressed your clammy forehead to the floor, feeling the cool hard wood against your skin. The pain of your back was so intense you felt as though you’d pass out at any second if it didn’t stop. You could feel your skin splitting, as if to make room for something, though it felt less so of an invasion and more so like an intrusion— if that even made sense. You had never felt the terms were so different until now. 

Don’t worry. Just sleep. 

Instantly you relaxed, your eyes shut tightly, and despite the pain, your body and your mind listened. 

In the morning you woke up sweaty despite having been pressed top naked against the cold floor all night. Slowly, you arose twitching slightly due to the sensation of fluttering against your back. 

“What is it? What’s on my back?” You asked Darla-May who seemingly awoke a few minutes before you as she had been in the middle of grabbing her towel and other toiletry from her closet. You stared at her with anxiety written all over you. Yet, if she noticed, she didn’t show it. Generally, she was clearly unbothered by the situation. 

“Wings,” she said happily. “You have wings,— just like a bee. Isn’t The Hive so generous?” 

What a blessing, you thought bitterly. You ignored the pain suddenly digging in your skull. What a blessing to have been chosen by The Hive. 

[clairewritesfanfics]

Question I wanna know how the mark variants would act or interact with a siren/ mermaid reader

I love mermaids, but sadly this was sent after I stopped accepting requests (I'm finishing the ones that were sent before I closed the box for prompts) so I'm just going to discuss my thoughts on the matter briefly.

There are many ways this could go, depending on scenario. In a vacuum, I'd say it barely raises an eyebrow. After all, this is a world where the ghost of a pharaoh exists, not to mention they also have actual merfolk.

I feel like, depending on Y/N's lower limb anatomy, the more...toxic Marks would be desperate to find a way to breed.

[kawaiigirly21]

The Beast In His Arms: Chapter 2

Not even a week later, trouble started when Nayera started letting Cecil run tests on her. They studied her strength, her speed and agility. They asked extremely personal questions and inquired that they were ‘Necessary’ for their studies. “Have you and Invincible had sex?” A scientist asked while another checked her heart rate.

“Excuse me!? How dare you ask such an explicit question?! I do not see how my personal affairs have anything to do with my abilities as a hero!” To say she was offended was an understatement. She was royalty for God sakes! A princess! And they dared to ask her something like that?! Petulant rats! Standing from her sitting position, Nayera fought the urge to smirk at the size difference between her and the scientists.

Suddenly Cecil walked in. “Leaving so soon? We're not done.” The man said as he watched Nayera gather her things to leave. “I believe we are good sir. For your so-called scientists have insulted me for the last time.” Cecil in return rolled his eyes. “Who knew your kind was so sensitive. All they did was ask you necessary questions.” Nayera was quick to turn around and back Cecil up against a wall with her teeth bared.

“I’ve had dolls bigger than you in my adolescence. I’d hate to see you end up like them. Broken and used. Now, let me leave.” Later that day, as Nayera laid her head on Mark’s lap while listening to him talk about his day, she felt tears sting her eyes under her bangs. “Babe? You’re pretty quiet tonight. Is everything ok?” Mark asked while stroking her tail. She nodded silently and moved her head closer to him trying to gather all his warmth.

“I heard about the incident today, In the  GDA HQ. Is that why you’re being so mopey?” His fingers trailed from her tail to her back to her head. Gaining another silent nod from her, Mark sighed before leaving down and pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “ I’ll talk to Ceil. It wasn’t fair for them to ask you stuff like that.” Thinking for a moment, Mark smiled and tapped Nayera on her nose. “Wanna race? Here to home? I’ll even hold back to give you a chance.” Nayera sat up and smirked. “You are going down!”

Many Many months later, Many things had happened to Mark and Nayera. While Mark struggled with his morality, Nayera struggled with her ability to control her anger. With this came arguments. Loud and explosive arguments. At that time, the couple decided to take a break until they were sure they were stable enough to be together again. They however still remained friends. “Mark, pass me that?” Nayera asked as she scribbled in her stress relief art book.

Her markers and colored pencils spilled across his bed as the pair sat in comfortable silence with the occasional question or two. “Mark? Hello?” Looking up from her book, Nayera noticed Mark staring off into space with a frown on his face. “Mark? It's not your fault about what happened. That powerplex guy is going to get the help he needs in prison…” Mark looked over at Nayera as she leaned over him. Her bangs parted slightly which gave him a good look at her pale blue eyes that albino animals usually had.

She had a soft mile on her face and brushed a caring hand through his hair. It gave him flashbacks to the day he met her…The day he actually fell in love. “The help he needs because of the fight with my dad and I killed his sister and niece or the help he needs because the fight between him and I killed his wife and son?” Mark grumbled. “I know none of it is my fault but it feels like…” Nayera then pressed a sweet kiss on his head.

“It’s not your fault Mark. End of discussion. Now, Pass me that marker!” She giggled, making the man smile. It seemed like when he was around her, he felt better about his situation. He didn’t think about it much unlike when he was by himself leaving his mind to wander. He missed her smile. He missed her laugh…he wanted to get back together but wasn’t sure on how to approach the subject.

Sitting up, Mark handed Nayera the purple marker before taking a deep breath. It was now or never. “Hey…Nayera? I wanted to know…what’s your …If you want to…Um..Fuck! Do you wanna-” “Hold that thought Mark!” Nayera noticed her watch beep red. “Guardian emergency. I gotta skedaddle! We’ll continue this later, kay? I’ll just leave my stuff here. See ya Marky Mark!” Leaning in close, Nayera pecked him on the lips quickly before leaving.

Mark could feel his heart palpate as he brought his fingers to his lips. “Does…she still love me like I still love her?” Before he could further dwell on it, Mark picked up his phone when he noticed Eve calling him. “Hey Eve. I’m at home…why? I’m not in Paris Eve. Trust me I would know if I’m in Paris.”

“Wait…So if you’re not in Paris…Who is…?”

AN: The variants are in the next chapter!! Which variant should Nayera meet first?

@mikajack9273

[bananasplit133]

Between Shadows and Light (Part 2)

Alternate Invincible | Mark Grayson/reader

(Part 1) - (Part 3)

Summary: In this chapter, the protagonist deepens their friendship with Mark, known as Invincible. As they share conversations in the café, Mark reveals his loneliness and the thrill he finds in instilling fear. The protagonist supports him, encouraging Mark to see himself as more than just a figure of fear. The chapter ends with a growing connection between them, allowing their friendship to develop at a slow pace amidst the chaos of their world.

Words: 1,866

------

The next few days at the café unfolded in a comfortable routine, but thoughts of Mark lingered in your mind like the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Each time the bell above the door jingled, a flicker of anticipation ignited within you, yet you maintained a steady patience, understanding that genuine friendships take time to build—even with someone as complex and sinister as him.

As you wiped down the counter one evening, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with vibrant shades of orange and pink. You were lost in thought, recalling your conversations with Mark, when the bell jingled. Looking up, a small smile formed on your lips as he stepped inside, wearing a casual black hoodie that made him appear more approachable. The familiar silhouette brought a sense of warmth to the otherwise cool evening, even as a hint of danger clung to his presence.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice steady, betraying none of the excitement that bubbled beneath the surface.

“Evening,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced around the café. “Mind if I grab a seat?”

“Not at all. Your usual?”

He nodded, and you poured him a cup of black coffee, observing him as he settled into the corner booth. There was a relaxed air about him today, but the faint shadows under his eyes hinted at the burdens he carried—not just as a person but as a figure of fear in this chaotic world. You found yourself curious about what thoughts might be swirling in that mind of his.

As you joined him at the table, you set the coffee down in front of him and took a seat across. “So, what’s on your mind today?” you asked, genuinely interested in his thoughts.

Mark took a sip of his coffee, contemplating your question. “I’ve been thinking about our last conversation. You have a way of making me reconsider my outlook on things.”

You shrugged, pleased to hear he was reflecting on your words. “Sometimes it helps to talk things through. Life can be overwhelming, and everyone needs a sounding board now and then.”

“True,” he replied, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “I’ve realized I haven’t had many conversations like this in a while. Most people avoid me or just want something from me.”

“That’s unfortunate,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “But I’m glad you’re here now. You deserve to have people in your life who want to know you, not just Invincible.”

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the tension in the air shifted to something lighter. “It’s nice to hear that. I guess I’m just used to being seen as this larger-than-life figure. It’s refreshing to talk to someone who sees beyond that.”

“That’s how I feel,” you said, smiling softly. “I’m just here to serve coffee and make sure people enjoy their time. If that means chatting with Invincible, then so be it.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “I’ll take it as a compliment. It’s not often I get to just… be me.”

As the two of you chatted, the conversation flowed easily. You found yourselves discussing everything from the state of the world to your favorite childhood memories. Each word exchanged drew you closer, building a foundation of friendship that felt genuine and steady, even with the shadow of his sinister nature looming over your interactions.

“Do you ever miss it?” Mark asked, his voice low, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. “The way things used to be before everything changed?”

You paused, considering his question. “Sometimes. I miss the way the café used to buzz with life, the laughter and chatter. But I also believe that we can find ways to create new memories. It’s just going to take time.”

“Time,” he echoed, leaning back in his seat. “That’s something I’m not particularly good at.”

“You’re not alone in that,” you replied. “We all struggle with patience, especially when we want things to change quickly. But friendships take time to build, just like anything else worth having.”

Mark looked at you, a mix of appreciation and curiosity in his gaze. “You really think we can get back to something resembling normal?”

“I have to believe that,” you said firmly. “If we don’t hold onto hope, then what’s left? We have to create our own sense of normalcy, even if it’s just in our small corner of the world.”

He nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. “I think I’m starting to understand that. Maybe there’s more to this than I initially thought.”

Just then, the bell above the door jingled, and a few more customers entered, breaking the intimate moment. You stood, glancing around to ensure everyone was settled before returning your focus to Mark.

As the café buzzed with life, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. Your conversations with Mark had become a highlight of your shifts, and while you were aware of the darker undertones of his persona, you were in no rush to push it further. You valued the growing friendship, the gradual unfolding of trust, and the shared laughter that brightened even the darkest days.

Over the next few weeks, Mark continued to visit the café regularly. Each time he entered, you felt a familiar flutter of anticipation, but you kept your demeanor calm and collected. You shared stories, jokes, and insights, allowing the bond between you to deepen without rushing into anything more. Each interaction felt like a carefully woven thread, adding strength to the tapestry of your friendship.

Mark opened up about his life, the pressures he faced as Invincible, and the loneliness that often accompanied his power. You listened intently, offering a safe space for him to express himself while being mindful of the darkness that lurked within him. He spoke about how people cowered before him, how the fear he instilled kept them in line. There was a twisted satisfaction in his words that sent a chill down your spine, but you remained steadfast, determined to understand the man behind the mask.

One evening, as the sun set and the café emptied, Mark lingered at the counter, his expression contemplative. “You know, I never thought I’d find a place like this—where I could just relax and be myself.”

You smiled softly, wiping down the counter. “I’m glad you feel that way. It’s nice to have you here, Mark. It feels like I’m getting to know the real you.”

He chuckled, a hint of warmth in his voice. “The real me is a work in progress. But you’re making it easier to embrace that.”

“Good,” you replied, meeting his gaze with sincerity. “We all have our layers, and it’s okay to take your time revealing them. I’m just happy to be part of the journey.”

As the evening wore on, you found yourselves lost in conversation, the connection between you growing stronger. Each shared moment felt like a step toward something more profound, yet you were content to savor the friendship that was blossoming between you.

“Have you ever thought about what you want to do once things settle down?” you asked, curiosity piquing as you leaned forward. “What are your dreams beyond being Invincible?”

Mark paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “Honestly? I haven’t had time to think about it. Everything is so chaotic right now. But I do enjoy the power I hold over people. It’s fascinating to see how fear can control them.”

“Is that what you want?” you asked, your curiosity growing. “To control people through fear?”

He hesitated, the tension in his shoulders evident. “It’s part of my nature. I thrive on it. It’s amusing to watch them cower, to know I can bend their will.”

You nodded, understanding the darkness in his words. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t find a balance. You have the ability to use your power in different ways, even if it’s not what you typically do.”

Mark regarded you quietly, the intensity of his gaze making you feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and daunting. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” you replied, your voice firm. “But it has to start with you wanting to be that person. You can’t let the darkness define you.”

He nodded slowly, processing your words. “You’re really good at this, you know. Most people would just give up on someone like me.”

“Maybe they don’t see the potential,” you said, shrugging lightly. “I see you as someone who has the chance to grow and change, even if it means grappling with the darkness within.”

Mark’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a glimmer of something deeper. “You have a way of making me feel… hopeful. It’s strange.”

“Hope is a good thing, even when it’s hard to hold onto,” you replied softly. “And you don’t have to navigate this alone. I’m here, and I’m happy to be part of your journey.”

He smiled, the warmth in his eyes bringing a flutter to your chest. “Thank you for that. It’s not often I find someone who genuinely cares.”

The atmosphere between you felt charged, and you sensed the bond between you deepening. Yet, you were both content to remain in this phase of friendship, allowing it to flourish at its own pace.

Eventually, the café began to empty, the last customers drifting out into the night. You glanced at the clock, realizing your shift was coming to an end. Reluctantly, you prepared to close up, the thought of leaving Mark behind filling you with an unexpected sense of longing.

“Hey,” you said, turning to him as you wiped down the counter one last time. “I should get going, but I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Same here,” Mark replied, a genuine smile lighting up his features. “I’ll be back soon. You can count on that.”

With a final wave, you stepped outside, the cool night air enveloping you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something meaningful—a slow burn of friendship, unfolding in the shadows of a world transformed by fear.

As the weeks turned into months, the café became a sanctuary for both of you. With each visit, Mark shared more of himself, his walls slowly crumbling under the weight of your patience and understanding. You learned about his struggles, the expectations placed on him, and the moments of loneliness that accompanied his power. You also witnessed the enjoyment he derived from the fear he instilled in others, a part of him that you couldn't ignore.

Mark became a constant presence in your life, and your friendship blossomed like the flowers in spring. You found comfort in his company, and with every laugh shared and every story told, the bond between you grew stronger.

And while the thought of a deeper connection occasionally crossed your mind, you both seemed content to explore the friendship that was blossoming between you. There was something beautiful about the way you interacted, each moment laced with the potential for something more, but never rushing into it.

For now, you were friends navigating the complexities of a chaotic world together, and that was enough.

[farsight-the-char]

++ THE IRON WALL ++

- Art by Artem Demura

.. They said: “O Dhu al-Qarnayn! Lo! Gog and Magog are spoiling the land. So may we pay thee tribute on condition that thou set a barrier between us and them?” He said: “That wherein my Lord hath established me is better than your tribute. Do but help me with the strength of men, I will set between you and them a bank. “Give me pieces of iron” - till, when he had levelled up the gap between the cliffs, he said: “Blow!” - till, when he had made it a fire, he said: “Bring me molten copper to pour thereon.” “And Gog and Magog were not able to surmount, nor could they pierce it.” He said: “This is a mercy from my Lord; but when the promise of my Lord cometh to pass, He will lay it low, for the promise of my Lord is true.” - Surah Al-Kahf

...

More lore under the cut

Anchored by the Taurus Mountains to the North and Zagros Mountains in the East, the two horns of the crescent moon, the Invincible Iron Wall of Dhu al-Qarnayn is both the symbol of the Sultanate and the very reason for its existence. Beyond it lies the last and the greatest realm of Those Who Believe. Easily eclipsing all other known Wonders of the World, none who have seen the Iron Wall can ever forget it. Despite centuries of artillery bombardment by Heretic cannons, its surface is untarnished, glittering like a newly-cast steel plating in the morning sun, and at night the manyfold gemstones embedded into its very structure light up in a wondrous show of colour and artistry. Neither the Wall itself nor its gates have ever been brought down, and while some enemies have made it across the Wall to spread death and terror deep into the Sultanate proper, they have always been thrown back.

At regular intervals stand towers and bulwarks erected by the sultans of both past and present, specifically constructed to support the long-range artillery of the Imperial School of Military Engineering. The great spires act as both lookouts as well as minarets for calling the believers to salah five times a day. These constructions, mighty as they may be, are not nearly as durable as the Invincible Iron Wall. They are often under repairs or being rebuilt due to the horrendous damage Heretic artillery and long-range bombers inflict upon them. There are four Great Gates (as well as many lesser ones) roughly corresponding to the four cardinal directions. Each holds a great garrison commanded by a sanjaq-bey (‘Lord of the Standard’) responsible for the security and protection of the trade routes beyond. Despite their formidable constructions, the Sultan’s Pashas know that if one of the Four Gates was ever taken, the Sultanate would be in mortal peril. Thus it is not just Janissaries and a host of Azebs and Sappers that guard the Great Gates, but instead each entrance is also guarded by two takwin creatures of truly colossal proportions: winged beasts with eyes keener than those of any hawk and claws that can tear a Heretic tank in half with a single swipe. Their form was chosen in honour of the legendary buraq that once carried the Prophet. They are not only there to protect the Gates with physical force but also with their wit.

Created with keen intellect, the buraq takwin tests the travellers to the Sultanate with subtle but deeply sagacious perspicacious questions and riddles, exposing Heretic infiltrators and weeding out those who would bring harm to the Believers. Due to their intelligence, the takwin guardians are well-aware of the artificial nature of their being, suffering from the knowledge of their unnatural existence. It is said that they are created as pairs not only for their might but also that they could give solace to each other with deep philosophical discussion and sophisticated poetry, alleviating the pain of their existential horror - for they were created by a man and not by God, and thus can hold no hope of salvation. When there are no passersby travelling through the Gate, their low, rumbling voices echo across the wall as they debate the meaning of the ninety-nine names of Allah, the nature of love or past battles they have engaged in the many years of their existence. Creation and maintenance of even one of these mighty beasts costs the Sultan the yearly income of an entire nāḥiyah, and occupies the finest cadre of the Alchemists of the House of Wisdom for a better part of seven years. It is a price the Sultan is glad to pay for the protection of his people. The bountiful blessings of the Iron Wall are not limited to mere physical protection from the forces of Shaytan: the scholars of the House of Wisdom have laboured for decades to create machines to help maintain and regulate the precipitation within the lands of the Believers, as well as making Sultanate air space exceedingly hard for Heretic aerial forces to harry, due to the high winds that often whip above the spires of the Iron Wall. Here, wondrous devices trap the passing gales and storms, using them to guard their air space against Hell-bombers and long range reconnaissance planes.

[pooks]

there is something funny about Ichiji remaining with the Straw Hats, after Ace leaves him in Luffy's care and sets off to chase Blackbeard (now with a clear conscience that his husband won't get hurt)

first of all, Sanji and Ichiji needed to clear the tension between them and it took a while to get enough privacy for them to talk. there were a lot of tears (angry tears in Sanji's case and remorseful tears for Ichiji) involved. there's too much trauma to be resolved, but they both acknowledge that they're victims, in one way or another. both of them cry tears of joy when they embrace each other for the first time as brothers.

Luffy is ridiculously clingy and happy about Ichiji, and Sanji by proxy, being officially part of his family. Ichiji has a calmer temper than Sanji and just takes it in stride. after a while, he gets used to Luffy wrapping long rubber arms around him and it's somehow comfortable, it makes him feel safe. he also yells Ichiji's pirate name every single hour. Ichiji just sits and watches his latest antics with amusement. he absolutely didn't try when Luffy pushed his straw hat on his head (yes, he did. zoro, nami, usopp and chopper are witnesses. he's never been happier.)

Zoro wasn't really suspicious of him, he just found the dynamic between the cook and his older brother...odd and tense, compared to Luffy and Ace's open, cheerful bond. Ichiji confided in him, during a nightwatch, that he hasn't been a good older brother to Sanji and he wishes to atone for past sins. since he hasn't given Zoro any reason to doubt his words, he just accepts it. doesn't stop Ichiji from teasing Zoro a little since he is NOT subtle whenever he stares at Sanji's behind.

Nami has tried to swindle money from Ichiji, that's how she welcomes him. it didn't work because Ichiji is always a step ahead and managed to swindle Nami. he gave the money back, cause it could be put to better use (aka food for the crew). otherwise, they get along just fine. he is the only man allowed in Nami's room because he is a married man and he's gay. (she practice braiding on his hair, so she can do make perfect braids on Vivi's hair).

Usopp finds another big brother figure in Ichiji, probably more than in Zoro or Sanji. Ichiji is actually the one who tells him that it's okay to be afraid in dangerous situations, because if there is no fear, then there's no courage because courage only exists in spite of fear. he doesn't always believe all Usopp's tall tales, but appreciates his storytelling. he's the first one Ichiji tells about his dream; to write the true chronicles of the next pirate king. they bond a lot over this, being artistic souls.

Chopper sees him as a cool big brother figure, but in the calm and collected way (Zoro is the strong, invincible one while Sanji is kind, nurturing one). someone who always has a plan...with at least two backup plans. Ichiji likes Chopper in turn, finding him cute and takes this as a chance to feel like an actual big brother.

and now, post-alabasta

Robin finds Ichiji just as interesting as Sanji. Ichiji's trust was very hard earned, since he was just as suspicious as Zoro. when Robin detects his North Blue accent and correctly assumes that he and Sanji hails from there, Ichiji successfully evades any further questioning by pointing out that he recognizes a South Blue accent in her voice. and that's just the end of the discussion. both of them has pasts they don't want to talk about and respects each other's boundaries. it's not until Enies Lobby that Robin understands how far Ichiji will go for the sake of friendship (he would murder and dismantle world government, if she asked)

Ichiji was hard to win for Franky. Ichiji was pissed af during Water 7. he was civil, but cold during Enies Lobby. after they left, Ichiji got accidently triggered when Franky talked about how "super" his overpowered abilities (like Sparking Red) was and nearly lashed out. he let it slip out that he was an unwilling subject for human experimentation. they did bury the hatchet after that, especially when Franky bawled about it and Ichiji just awkwardly patted his shoulder. he found it odd that he took it more personally than what he did.

Ichiji is a bit unphased about Brook, a living skeleton is hardly the oddest thing he's seen in the grand line. after Thriller Bark, Ichiji always thinks of Ace and Brook is a good confidante to speak to. he often accompany Brook whenever he plays violin or piano, both of them create a couple of new songs which Ichiji sings (he has a very beautiful song voice).

bonus:

Vivi did eventually figure out Ichiji's original identity (and by default, Sanji), but it's a secret kept between her and Ichiji. both of them understand what will happen if the secret gets out and it will put not only Ichiji's life in danger, but also Sanji's. not to mention that they have already met once before.

(context: Germa, as a recognized kingdom by WG, attended the same Reverie when child!Vivi encountered Wapol. only Ichiji was allowed to accompany Judge since he was his heir)