#superpowered!reader

[verybadatwriting]

Just a Little Stab Wound

Summary: Reader, a vigilante, is injured and goes to Peter for help.

Warnings: injuries, blood loss

Notes: I experimented a little, and wrote this on paper for the first draft. I think I like it.

Gn!reader

Word count: 1,141

He was just trying to study for a chem test when his phone buzzed. At first he ignored it. After two more buzzes, he finally glanced down at the notifications, and saw they were from you. He smiled before reading them.

Need you

Pete

i’m hurt. on way. be ready.

He hurriedly replied,

how hurt?

u there?

Y/n??

When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a fast reply, he went about gathering a whole bunch of first aid stuff.

“Pete?” He heard a tired but authoritative voice. Crap. He’d thought Aunt May was asleep.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, both bemused and amused.

“Science homework?” He said, wishing it had sounded less like a question. Aunt May did not look like she was buying it, but instead of challenging the answer she sighed and reminded him to clean up once he’d finished “Whatever it is you’re really up to.”

Peter nodded itching to go prepare his room. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the bottom bunk and laid it on his floor. He tossed a pillow on top, and made sure that the first aid boxes were close at hand. This next part he always hated. The waiting was excruciating. Never knowing if you were only a moment away, or if you had bled out in some grimey back alley.

You were a vigilante, like he used to be, before he joined the Avengers. You though, you did not have the favor of law enforcement, since some (okay, much) of your activities weren't exactly legal. Peter met you while you were both stopping a robbery. Both of you had a fun time, probably due to the fact that you had the same sense of humor. Just before the cops arrived, you and Peter fled to a nearby rooftop. 

All that said, you and Peter had become friends, and then something more. You’d been to his home before, usually just to hang out, but also if you were injured he’s who you’d head to.

For the most part, Peter was used to it. He appreciated having someone his age who really understood the weight that came with having superpowers. If talking to you came at the price of occasionally patching you up, he’d happily help you out.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only ten or so minutes, you landed on the fire escape and knocked on his window. You smiled when he looked up and let you in. As he got closer, he saw it was more like a pained grimace.

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered, eyes drifting to your abdomen, which was painted red with your blood. You held your hand against it, but the blood still leaked out. 

“Hey Pete,” You said, gasping through the pain before promptly tumbling through the window and into his arms.

Peter gingerly lifted you over to the blanket and set you down. You held pressure on the wound as you lay there, splayed out on the floor. Peter was readying a wad of gauze bandaging when out of the corner of his eye he saw yours start to drift closed.

“Hey!” He said. “You need to keep your eyes open, okay?” He asked. Reluctantly, you complied.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured. 

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, not taking his “pretty” eyes off the gash across your body as he continued bandaging.

“Keep talking, love,” He prompted you.

“M’kay,” You hummed. “Just for you, pretty boy.”

At this, Peter’s cheeks flushed and he glanced at you, worry filling his eyes.

“You must be delusional from blood loss.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested as he turned back to work. “I’m just incredibly lucky and got you.”

A few minutes later, Peter had you all patched up. Then he helped you sit up, a rather painful process. Your shirt was filthy so he helped you out of it and upon seeing how much blood and grime covered your skin, he retrieved a basin and rag to gently wash the filth away. After he was done, you put on one of his t-shirts.

“It’s comfy,” you said.

“Looks good on you,” He replied.

After a moment, you looked up at him, truly taking in the worry lacing each and every one of his features.

“Thank you,” you finally, quietly said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” You asked, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, but he stayed careful not to hurt you. 

“You’re in no shape to even think about going home,” Peter said. “So you might as well spend the night.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

He gently scooped you up and somehow managed to climb up his bed’s adder. He set you down on your side, facing away from the wall, and tucked you in. He climbed back down, and started cleaning up while you drifted off to sleep. 

You later felt him slip into bed behind you. It was comforting, having his chest against your back. You nestled into his arms and stayed like that the rest of the night.

Peter woke up first. He didn’t dare move a muscle. From how peaceful you looked right now, nobody ever would have guessed that you’d come awfully close to death just a few hours ago. 

He heard his aunt get up and start making breakfast. Her footsteps slowly came down the hall to his room. Hastily, he covered your face with the blanket.

“Hey, Peter,” Aunt May called as she entered the room. “Do you want eggs? I’m making some.” 

“Sure! Thanks!” He said, internally cringing at his voice, which sounded way too cheery. For one wonderful second, Peter thought she was going to leave. Then, her eyebrows shrunk together as she noticed the suspiciously human shaped lump in her nephew’s bed.

“Uh,” she started, “Who’s that?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked after a moment. She raised an eyebrow in response.

“Uhm, Aunt May,” Peter said, “This is my partner. They’ve got superpowers, like me, and they don’t really want other people to know who they are. Last night they got hurt, like really hurt, and they came to me. Please don’t be mad at them, they didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

His aunt just stood there, this stressful moment stretching on forever. Finally, someone broke the silence.

“I’s okay, Peter,” you said, pushing the blanket away from your face. “Hi Ms. Parker. I’m Y/n.” Your groggy voice wavered slightly, as if afraid of what she might say. Your face, soft from sleep, made Peter fall in love with you all over again. Seeing the way Peter looked at you, combined with your honesty and desperation, Aunt May seemed to relax.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”

[fruitsywriting]

Spirit

Title: Spirit

Chapter: Episode 1

Next chapters: part 2

Fandom: Invincible

Type of Fanfic: Reader, self-insert

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　 ˚　.˚　

Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: death, descriptions of violence and death

Chapter Summary: You come from a universe that’s left as a wasteland, the human population constantly dwindling, as morals have gone and died, thrown aside to just survive. While you’re out to pickpocket the deceased, you find Angstrom Levy looking for Invincible- much to your confusion- as Invincible doesn’t exist here. Seeing the state of your universe, he offers you a more peaceful world- only if you do something for him in return. (set shortly before the invincible war)

Pairings: Mark x reader, variant!mark x reader, Rex x reader, (one-sided) Eve x reader, multi-paul x reader, Rae x reader, bulletproof x reader, to be determined…

Written By: MangoSpit

⌜Alt Universe inspired by: Fallout⌟

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Invincible doesn’t exist in your universe. And if viltrumites do exist, they have seemed to have left Earth alone. Maybe they would assume nothing was alive on it anymore. They didn’t even need to conquer Earth when humans had destroyed it themselves…

You walk down the broken pavement, what used to be a road years and years ago. That was before you were even born though. This is all you’ve ever known. Sure, you’ve heard stories about what clear skies looked like, what fruit tastes like, what clear lakes and oceans looked like, but you’ll never see it for yourself. Is it possible to miss something that you have never had? If so, that’s something you would feel more than you would like to admit.

Keeping down your path, you stop as you spot something at the corner of your eye. You lower your head in a fast jerking motion to see if it was a threat. No. Just a dead body. Kneeling down, you can see that the deceased woman isn’t decomposing yet. Meaning, the people who did this could be near. You look over her features, wondering what she was like.

She had a kind face, her clothing made it seem like she was guarded- but not in the way many are. She was probably one of those empaths, one that would try and teach children what morality is- even when there is slim to none left. She was probably in her 30s, and she was shot a few times in the chest. Usually you would search dead bodies for anything of use- bandages, medicine, food, clean water, weapons- but she didn’t have a bag on her. You didn’t specifically feel like checking her clothes as she didn’t have many pockets or padding on her. You hope her original soul is resting easy as you begin the sharp inhale, causing a small vacuum for her duplicated soul. Her soul was a soft peach color and it came out as a small wisp, grouping up into a ball. You quickly grab it in your hand before her duplicated soul would zip away or try to possess you. It lets out a small squeak, sounding like a mouse. The beauty of your powers.

𓉘 “047241, do you know why your veins look like that? Why your hands emit a soft yellow glow?” 

You shake your head in response, curious as to what this could mean.

“You, 047241, were chosen to become one of the divine. A weapon. Your veins are filled with divinity, you have been chosen for greatness.”𓉝 

So much for greatness. Being blessed to become divine just means they fill your veins with radiation and liquid medication as a baby so you can become a weapon for the high court. Turning you into a humanoid mutant. However, you missed the mark. Out of 34 subjects, you placed 11th place, and they picked the top 10. You were left to fend for yourself after that. 

Your divine power is complicated. You are quite literally a vacuum for souls and energy. You can vacuum up to 5 hours worth of energy out of a living creature, and can vacuum a duplicated soul out of a deceased human. Their souls usually have some sort of helpful ability to you: like living soul protection, picking up objects, dazing others, sensing others, healing, etc,. However, as soon as they are brought out of their body, they panic and try to run away or they get angry and try to possess you. And their possessions can go from 30 minutes to 12 hours if you’re not careful. They can’t talk, they're like a small animal that needs to be trained. You look at the peach colored soul as it tries to wiggle free from your grip.

“Sorry, no hard feelings.” You pull out a bottle from your bag and squeeze the soul into it as it bangs on the bottle from side to side to try and get out. You would deal with them later. Right now, you should get out of here, in case whoever killed this woman is still nearby. After adjusting your heavy backpack onto your back again, you see a figure. This figure has their back turned to you, clearly not worried about any possibility of danger behind them. You carefully scan them over, as you grab for your weapon. 

From behind, it looks like it could be a mutant, its skin is puffed up and wrinkly from the back, but when they turn around, they look normal from the front. It’s a man wearing something that doesn’t look protective or plausible for the wastelands. He seems like an anomaly almost, he feels too out of place. He looks around slightly before spotting you. You wait to see what he does, but he gives a polite smile- though you feel as though it might not be fully genuine. You tsk to yourself, looking him over before raising your voice so he can hear you.

“Are you armed?

He casually holds up his hands to show that he has nothing in them, that he’s unarmed. You can’t tell if he has something hiding in his clothes but you keep your weapon close as you approach.

“You part of a group?”

“Me? Oh, no. I’m just looking for someone.”

You hum, “Oh? Bounty hunter?”

“Not exactly.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his vague answers. The way he talks makes it obvious that he is not from the deep wastelands. Maybe he’s part of the high court or some other group of people that are protected but then again, he’s out here alone. Plus, he has a scar and looks like he may be mutated. He would be kicked out in a second if he was part of a higher group. So maybe he’s been ex-communicated?

“Who you lookin’ for?”

“I’m looking for Invincible.”

You pause, giving him an odd look.

“Who?”

“So you don’t know of him?”

“Nah. Doesn’t ring a bell. Is he supposed to be a big name, cause I know a lot of big names but that ain’t one of em.”

He chuckles to himself, “I would say you are lucky to not know him, but it seems your world is already facing its own challenges.”

Own World?

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I am Angstrom Levy, I can travel dimensions.”

Before you can even ask questions, he opens up a portal with ease, emanating a bright green hue. You stare in awe, never thinking you would see something like this before. You quickly tear your eyes away and look back at Angstrom.

“And you came to this- uh, here- for this Invincible person? Why? Did he get lost in a dimension?” You doubt that theory a little as he does not seem panicked. Instead, his lip ever so slightly twitches downwards.

“Invincible is a murderer, he killed my son- he ruined the lives of millions across many of dimensions.”

You stare dumbfounded. Well, that would explain why he was looking for him. You have always heard that if you have a bond with blood relatives, you will feel a new intense feeling of adoration for them, wanting them to never be hurt. Having someone take away his son would probably trigger intense rage. You try to grasp at the concept of that intense of an emotion, but you can’t feel it.

“That must be why you’re here. You want to get revenge?”

He stares for a moment, before humming in agreement. He takes in your appearance. You do look odd, but not out of place for the wastelands. You wear a large color with a short chain on it, under it your number written: 047241. Your eyes are heavy, with prominent bags under them as you never feel relaxed and barely sleep. A big backpack stuffed to the brim with supplies you need, causing it to weigh over 100 pounds. Your shirt is a dirty forest green, paired with baggy camo pants. Underneath both your shirt and pants, you have padding underneath to act as a vest to prevent easy targets. Then, the oddest part, you have long, leather gloves on- reaching up to your elbow. He stares at your gloves, and you know what he is wondering. He’s wondering what you are hiding, because it’s even odd to wear this long of gloves in the wasteland.

“What is your name?”

“047241.”

He just stares at you, before huffing out a short laugh. Is your name one that causes humor?

“Are you happy here?”

You stay silent.

“Do you have a home here?”

You stay silent.

“Do you have loved ones here?”

Again, you stay silent.

“What if I can offer you a dimension that will give you the chance to experience all of that?”

You perk up, trying not to show off your excitement too much. However, it’s hard not to when you think of the idea of clean bodies of water, clean air, animals, fruit, sunshine, alive plants and trees, and the possibility of actually meeting and keeping in contact with new people. You have to remind yourself to not show your excitement because you don’t know what this Angstrom could be asking of you.

“What do you need in return?” Your voice comes out rough but you know that he knows he already got your attention.

“Simple, all I need in return is for you to give me updates whenever you hear about Invincible. I need to keep track of him for my… plans.” 

“Done.” You say without a moment of hesitation. You can do that no problem, and you get to potentially experience living in a world similar to yours before it became the dreaded wasteland it is today. 

“One last thing before we go. Once you get there, about a week and a half from now there may be a catastrophe, I would recommend going into hiding.”

“Can you see into the future too?”

“Something like that.”

“One more question.”

“And what is it?”

“How many days is a week and a half?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

End Note: Hope you enjoyed this story. This is chapter 1 but it kind of serves as a setup for your character, background, motivation, and powers. This will probably just be shorter compared to my future chapters. I am open to any suggestions you may have for the story!

[buggs-and-beasts]

No Stone Unturned (p1)

Summary: The last thing she needs is the Winter Soldier crashing on her couch. It’s only a matter of time before someone tracks him down to her apartment, the only place he visits more than once. All she can do is hope Hydra doesn’t get their first, or if they do, that they kill her before they recognize her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female OC/Reader

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of canon typical violence and torture, descriptions of physical injuries, invasions of privacy, mind and memory reading reader, depictions of mental illness and flashbacks

Word Count: 2743

Note! - thank you to my lovely fiancée for helping name the story and the chapter, as well as being my wonderful beta reader to catch silly little mistakes (like when I imply Bucky only has one lung)

Look What the Cat Dragged in

She’s always liked taking walks in the rain.

There’s something so peaceful about the way the world slows down and the air gets crisper, something that just opening the windows to her apartment can’t fully capture. Down here, on the city streets, it’s so much stronger. That’s why she’d pulled on her soft blue, long sleeved dress and fleece lined leggings to brave the chilled early evening.

The streets were practically deserted by the time she stepped out of her apartment building and opened her black umbrella, but that only made it better. She might as well be the only person in the entire city, walking her familiar loop around closed storefronts and locked doors. Now, only 2 blocks away from finishing her loop with waves of comfort rushing through her, movement at the edge of an alleyway catches her attention.

Whatever moved was small, maybe a racoon or a stray dog or cat. The weather report she’d watched earlier rings through her head, it’s meant to freeze tonight. She’s quick to veer off her loop, stepping into the mouth of the alleyway and scanning it for life while chirping to get the animals attention.

“Come here sweetheart,” she calls. A sudden flash of mottled gray before her makes her yelp, then laugh as she takes in the dirty gray soaked fur of a ragdoll cat.

“Well hello there beautiful.” She smiles as the cat weaves between her legs, “What’re you doing out in this kind of weather?” The cat doesn’t stay with her for long, prancing further into the alleyway but pausing every couple of steps to check if she’s following. She does.

“Are there more of you back there?” She calls, scanning the area nearby for something she could carry the cat back to her place in, eyes landing on a damp cardboard box. She pulls it from a pile of trash, carefully keeping it under her umbrella as she follows the slender watercolor gray cat deeper into the dark alleyway. She’s trying not to trip on the uneven asphalt, watching as the drenched animal vanishes around a corner.

She wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to find. Probably a litter of kittens or a pile of trash turned into a small shelter.

The last thing she was expecting was to find a man there in the dark, his hulking frame sprawled out on the floor, bloody and rain-soaked. He’s in worn dark clothes, resting on his stomach, head facing away from her so his shoulder length dark brown hair blocks his face from her view. The cat stops at the man’s side, sitting expectantly with big eyes trained on the girl it’d led here.

She takes a single step forward, opening her mouth to call out to him but the syllables die on her tongue as she notices the knives and guns strapped to him. That sends her stumbling back, the umbrella and box dropping from her hands, her body pressing into the dirty alleyway wall.

She stays there a moment, watching and waiting for him to move. He doesn’t.

The puddle of rain surrounding him is dark, bloody. He’s obviously hurt, presumably unconscious. The cat is next to his head now, licking his cheek without response.

She should call the cops, and ambulance, help in general, but a nagging feeling tells her not to.

“Fuck.” She curses, taking slow careful steps closer to him before kneeling down beside him. He doesn’t look incredibly dangerous, famous last words, she knows, but what if he isn’t. What if he needs help.

There’s a way to know for sure.

Self loathing soaks into her alongside the rainwater. She hates that the idea even came to her, that something deep inside her would dare to recommend she use her disgusting ability. She didn’t need it. It wasn’t her, just a remnant of the worst experiences of her life.

She couldn’t let him die there, but if she was in his position she’d sooner die than risk detection in a hospital. What if he was running too?

One step away from the wall. Her worry for the man’s life is winning and she knows it. It’s dishonorable, sure, but is invading someone’s privacy worth it to save their life. She takes another step, then another, until she’s kneeling next to him.

The hem of her skirt is soaking up rainwater and blood, the liquids creeping up the fabric. She’s holding her breath, reaching out with her pointer finger but stopping before she can feel the soft skin of his bare and bloody cheek.

Just one touch, one unethical, invasive peak into someone else’s mind to decide where to go from here.

His skin is cold, but she only manages to feel that for a moment before its overtaken by a deep burning. Instantly her head is throbbing, her vision blurring from the pain. She can feel water filling up her lungs and electricity throbbing through her hands, her arms, her core. Everything aches and stings and glows white hot. Hands are grabbing and hitting her everywhere, bruising fingers and violent impacts making her dizzy. All she can see is a blur of harsh men and bright lights. There’s blood in her eyes, sticky thick liquid dripping and gliding down her face.

Just when she thinks it all might knock her unconscious a new, stronger cold soaks into her. It’s deep and throbbing, bringing a new burn alongside a painful numbness. She can’t feel her fingers, her toes. She can’t breathe or scream or cry out. She’s frozen. Completely and utterly.

The girl falls back with a gasp, panting as the images and feelings slowly vanish. She’s completely sitting on the ground now, desperately trying to adjust to a spinning brutal world. The feeling of soaked fur and chilled toe pads pull her back into the alleyway, the cat brushing past her shoulder then hopping up to stand on her bare thighs. The cat chirps at her, tail flicking gently behind it.

No hospitals. No police.

If she wanted to help him, and she did, she’d have to do it herself.

“I’m gonna need a bigger cardboard box.”

—

It only hits her a couple hours after she finally managed to drag him into her apartment just what she’s done.

The Winter Soldier, the fist of Hydra, is laying shirtless on her couch, his massive form making it seem comically little. He’s wanted by Hydra, every government worldwide, and the Avengers. The three groups she wants in her life the least are actively tracking down the guy she’d just stitched up like she was sewing a new skirt.

If her body wasn’t so exhausted she’d be terrified, but instead she’s just semi-panicking while half awake. It had taken 2 hours to pull Captain America’s right hand man 2 blocks, stopping only when the pain from his memories forced her to throw up or collapse into a wall. She’d tried to avoid touching his skin but it was nearly impossible to do while heaving him onto her shoulders or yanking him down the sidewalk. Her one saving grace was his left arm, thankfully the sleek metal didn’t conduct the inside of his mind like his skin did. Unfortunately that didn’t protect her from his memories when she’d handled his injuries.

It was nothing she couldn’t handle, just a stab and a couple gun shot wounds. She’d spent another hour tackling those with her handy sewing kit. It would’ve been so much quicker, but she needed 30 of those minutes to get herself to a point where she didn’t flinch and yelp with each brush of his skin. The end result wasn’t perfect or ideal, the unsteady stitches making her curse her once steady hands for their current tremors.

She can’t tell which has been more exhausting, heaving around a man twice her size or taking in the unbearable torture inside him.

With her guest handled she moves to care for the cat, wiping dirt and grime from its fur with a warm wet washcloth to reveal pure white. She trudges around the apartment, setting up a litter box alongside bowls of dry food and water on her living room floor.

Now, with everything and everyone handled, the newfound calm gives way to her own horrors.

She spent too long too close to him and now even across the room she can’t get his head out of hers. She’s a broken radio, stuck on his station at full volume. His memories are overwhelming, overloading every sense in her body. They’re blurring, blending into her own experiences, building into unstoppable flashbacks until she has no clue what sensations are hers. She stumbles back against the wall, sliding down it and setting her head into her hands. Bones are cracking and splintering, lungs are heaving, whimpers and screams are bubbling up into her throat.

It takes every grounding exercise in her toolkit to calm her body down and by then even crawling to her room is out of the question. Instead she leans back into the wall, shutting her eyes as the damp cat crawls into her lap. She’s out in minutes, free falling into the dark void of sleep with a strangled sigh.

—

His eyes snap open into a room he’s never seen before.

The couch he’s laying on is plush. A thick soft blanket wraps up from under him until it hugs around his shoulders, locking him into a comfortable cocoon, but otherwise he can’t feel any restraints. In front of the couch is a coffee table, strewn with bloodied medical and sewing supplies. Beyond that is a fireplace, the sparse glowing embers quietly crackling, and a chair piled up with dark thick fabric, metals, and plastics.

His hands shoot to his body, pulling away his cocoon and searching for his weapons in a panic. Not only are they missing, presumably within the pile on the chair, but so is his jacket, his shirt, even his shoes and socks have been removed leaving him semi-exposed in only dirt and blood cacked tactical pants and underwear.

He shoots up to a seat with a sharp wince from his strangely cleaned and bandaged core. Even the healing gash on his right forearm he got climbing a fence is wrapped up. He tries to push away the uneasiness of having been cared for while limp and unconscious, instead scanning the space. It’s an apartment, a modest living space broken between living room and kitchen with an island of countertops. What catches his eye the most is the vase of flowers, bright marigolds on the island.

Every movement he makes is careful, slow, cautious. The last thing he needs is to get the attention of whoever brought him here. He had no reason to think they want to harm him, he’s not bound, his stuff is right there on the chair only a couple feet away, still the idea of him being found and moved while he was so vulnerable makes him want to run. Run fast and far, and never look back.

Better to be gone than risk meeting his host.

He makes it a couple steps towards the chair, reaching out for the handgun still in a holster at the top of the pile before he hears it. A gentle… purring? It’s coming from behind the chair. His gaze moves downwards, peaking delicately over the top of the pile in search of the source of the sound.

His tired, gray-blue eyes land on vibrant icy ones. The pupils seem to grow at the sight of him, purring turning into chirping as a fluffy white ragdoll cat squirms out of the arms of a sleeping girl and prances over to him. It rubs it’s head against him, chirping louder and louder by the second.

“Shh.” He hushes but the cat doesn’t seem to care, now chattering and pacing back and forth against his legs. “You’ll wake her.” He whispers, watching the cat hop up onto the pile and carefully climb the exposed edges of the armchair. It’s first meow is enough to push him over the edge, his right hand rubbing a warm cloud onto its head. “Please.” The touch appears to placate the cat, returning meows and chatter and chirps to methodic purring.

Still petting the cat he dares for a moment to scan the girl behind the chair. The first thing he notices is that she isn’t really behind the chair, just in the triangular space between it and the wall because of its angle. The next thing he takes in is the girl herself, she’s softly breathing, curled up into a loose ball, eyes solidly shut. Asleep. He takes slow and deliberate steps around the chair to get a better look at her, the cat following his hand to the other side of it’s back. She doesn’t look much like a threat to him.

His heart races a little when he notices the blood stained all over her baby blue dress and gray leggings. Her hands are bloody too, stained and coated in cracking dried red without a source he can identify. He’s crouched beside her, having halfway convinced himself to pull her out of the corner for a proper injury assessment when he realizes where the red came from.

Him. It came from him.

He glances back at the coffee table, at the blood soaked needle and thread haphazardly thrown into a clear lidded tin to keep the cat from getting it, at the trashcan at the end of the island and the completely soaked bandage trapped just barely poking out of the lid. Had she really fixed him up?

He doesn’t get to grapple with the question for long before a gasp pulls him back to her. He stands again stepping back quickly to give her space, but she doesn’t stand. Her eyes don’t even open, but another gasp escapes her lips, this one accompanied by a panicked whine.

It’s a nightmare, he’s sure of it. He’d recognize the way her unconscious body squirms and twitches, the way her eyes dart around beneath her eyelids, the quiet breathy half-words anywhere. He should leave but he can’t. Instead his hands stretch out towards her, slow and wary. He doesn’t let his fingers meet with her soft skin, only grabbing onto her shoulders where the long sleeves of her dress cover her and shaking her frame softly.

“You’re okay.” It’s practically a whisper, every syllable hoarse and raw from disuse. It occurs to him in fleeting concern that this is the first thing he’s said since the airship. He tries again. “You’re okay. It’s just a dream.” Her chest is heaving more and more with each strangled breath.

“Ple-” there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way her numb lips stumble through only a fraction of a word. Her eyebrows knit together, face tensing up as her head lolls forwards. “No.”

“Fuck.” He can’t help but curse, releasing her left shoulder and pushing a strand of her from her face. “It’s just a dream.” She seems to settle a little, as if she can hear him through the mist of her own nightmares, but the fear builds up again into an agonizing whimper. He doesn’t think, he just acts, cupping her cheek into the palm of his hand. He can feel the warmth of her flushed face as he lifts it up.

“You’re okay.” He repeats for the last time, as firm and loud as his damaged voice can handle. “It’s just a dream.”

Her eyelashes flutter open, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, bright eyes boring a hole through his head. There’s something gorgeous about them, so vibrant and detailed he could search them for hours. That is, he could search them for hours if he could manage to ignore her flushed cheeks and plump, parted lips.

With a jolt he realizes just how hard he’s staring and the intimate way his fingertips are cupping her cheek, tilting her chin up towards his face almost as if….

He pulls his hands from her suddenly, blush creeping up his own face at an alarming pace. The silence between them might as well be another bullet forcing it’s way into his side. He screams at himself to say something, anything. Unfortunately part of him takes ‘anything’ a little too seriously and, instead of concocting something endearing or charming to say he can only force out a pathetic…

“Hi.”

[reallchristine]

ENERGY ─ chapter two

pairing: logan howlett x !f!reader

Set during x-men (2000) and X2

warnings: angst, hurt, violence, bad grammar?😭, basically the plot of the first movie!

previous chapter <- -> next chapter

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You stand, unable to move as you watch your younger sister lying against the bedroom wall you shared. She utters your name in shock, clutching her chest in pain.

“No, no, no...” You shake your head as your mumbles turn into shouts, watching your sister struggle to breathe.

“Please!” You cry, choking on your sobs as you try to break the unforeseen barrier.

Trying to fix what you’ve done.

But it’s too late.

You jolt awake, sweating and gasping for air. You look around, only to be met with the darkness of your bedroom.

The memories of the accident haunt your dreams. You tried burying the thought of what happened in the past, but it follows you, acting as a reminder of what you’ve done.

Starting to calm down, you slide out of your blankets, put on the slippers that are on the floor beside your bed, and make your way out of your room and down the steps. You enter the hall and finally through the doorway of the kitchen.

You pour yourself a cup of water and sit on the stool, gulping down the water as you try not to think about the recurring dreams that wake you up at night. Instead, you think about the information Jean told you before you headed to bed.

She wanted to give you an update on what they found after Logan’s x-ray. Apparently, his bones were bonded with adamantium metal, and he was able to withstand the process because of his mutation, recalling what Jean had told you.

Before you can continue with your thoughts, you look up to see Logan entering the kitchen.

“Hi,” you say, greeting him with a timid smile.

“Hey.” he replies, as he starts to look around the kitchen.

“Uhm, are you looking for something?” you ask, watching him open the fridge and then close it right after. He turns to you, “Got any beer?”

“This is a school,” you say, staring at him.

“So, no?”

“No.” You reply, shaking your head as you find yourself amused by his odd question.

“If you want something to drink, there’s soda in that cupboard,” you tell him, pointing to its location. He walks up to it, opens the small cupboard door, and reaches for a soda.

“Thanks,” he says, twisting the bottle cap open as he takes a seat across from you. “So, you’re a teacher at this school?” he asks, striking up a conversation.

“Yup, I teach chemistry,” you reply.

“Chemistry, huh,” he says while taking a swig of his drink. He asks another question, “And how’s that working out for ya?”

“Surprisingly well,” you respond with a shrug, pausing as you continue. “I mean, I enjoy science, and I like being able to work with kids, so it’s nice.”

“Looks like that’s going nicely for you,” he says with a bit of humor in his tone.

“I guess you could say that,” you answer, moving off the stool you were sitting on to put away the now-empty cup.

“Anyways, I should be heading back to bed.” you tell him, walking towards the kitchen door.

“Me too,” he replies, letting out a sigh and throwing away his empty bottle, following you.

You both make your way up the stairs heading to your separate rooms.

“Goodnight, Logan.” you say with a sleepy smile.

“‘Night,” he replies, watching you enter your room before he enters his.

You return to your blankets to get some more rest, checking the clock on your nightstand before shutting your eyes: 1:02 a.m.

Turning in bed, you quickly sit up, awakened by the sound of someone screaming.

You run out of your room to see a crowd forming in front of Logan’s bedroom. You rush into the room only to find Rogue using her powers on Logan.

“Everyone back to your rooms!” you say, some kids doing as you asked while others continue to stay.

The others rush into the room after you. Ororo now stands by your side as Scott switches on the lights.

Rogue lets go of Logan as he falls to the ground. “It was an accident.” she says, quickly turning to you and walking away.

The morning after the events of last night leaves you drained. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you prepare to set up the classroom for a new lesson.

Students start coming into your class once the bell rings, sitting at their designated seats. The last of your students to walk through the door is Rogue.

You smile at her when she enters. Rogue quickly takes a seat at her desk as you begin your lesson.

As your students finish the last bit of their notes, the bell rings, indicating the end of class. They pack up quickly, saying goodbye as they leave your class.

“Rogue!” you call as she turns to you, stopping just before the door. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing?”

“I’m fine,” she answers timidly.

“I know what happened last night wasn’t your fault,” you pause, “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

She stares at you.

“Look, I know how it feels to be scared of your mutation,” you tell her.

“No, you don’t,” she replies, shaking her head.

“Trust me, I do,” you say, raising your hand between the two of you as you start forming a small ball of energy in your hand. “I wasn’t able to control my mutation before, and honestly, I’m scared that sometimes I still can’t,” you tell her as the ball of energy slowly disappears.

You continue, “But this place, this school, it helped me. It gave me opportunities I thought I could never have in this cruel world.”

“Which is why I don’t want you to think you’re less than anyone here. You have the same opportunities as everyone else at this school. You deserve to thrive,” you tell her with a smile.

“Thank you.” she says, returning the smile.

“Of course, Rogue-” you say.

“Marie.” she corrects quickly.

“I’m always here if you need me, Marie.” you say to her. She smiles and walks out of your class as the bell rings for your next class.

As the school day finally finishes, you start to clean up the papers left on your desk.

“Y/n!” Ororo says, bursting into your classroom.

“Ororo? What is it?” you ask, confused.

“It’s Rogue. She ran away,” she tells you.

“What?! I just talked to her earlier,” you say.

“Charles found her at a train station. Logan’s already on his way there. Scott and I are going to follow. You should come,” she tells you.

“Alright. But my mutation—”

“You’re going to be fine,” she reassures you. You nod at her as you both walk out of your class.

When you arrive at the station, you walk up to the front desk with Ororo while Scott look’s around.

“She’s about 17, um, my height, and has brown hair,” she tells the man at the ticket booth. You stand close behind her as she continues to speak, when you suddenly hear large footsteps approaching the both of you.

You turn around only to be met with Sabertooth.

“Ororo—” you say before you are grabbed into a chokehold and smashed against the glass.

“Scream for me,” he says.

Ororo, who was caught off guard, tries to use her powers but is suddenly knocked out by Sabertooth, who grabs her and throws her against the wall before dropping you to the floor.

Scott rushes toward you both, pushing people out of the way, only to be stopped when his visor is grabbed, making him shoot a hole in the roof of the station.

You hastily get up with a groan, your neck and head throbbing as you start to build up energy in your hands, stretching your arms and creating a blast of energy.

You fire it toward Sabertooth as he breaks through the wall, hitting the ground from the blast.

You run toward Ororo, who is slowly getting up from the ground. “Are you okay?!” you ask, helping her up.

“Yeah,” she responds, rubbing her head and taking your hand.

“Come on, let’s get Scott,” you say, holding her up while your eyes scan the area for Scott.

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a/n ── this still needs to be proof read! But omg was I struggling to write this chapter😭 I’ve been so busy the past month so forgive me for that😣 I haven’t set a schedule yet for this series but I’ll let u guys know! Also some of the @ are not working for the taglist so just message me if you want to be added!

🏷️: @cxptainbuck @thecraziestcrayon @marvelgirlie-4 @ravenslvt @malfoys-demigod @byhuenii @avatarobsessedgirly @kinokomoonshine

[voidskipper]

WHERE THE SILENCE WARPS

Prologue

Locked away in a hidden facility, a girl with powers beyond understanding has known nothing but control and confinement. But when chaos erupts from within, an unexpected chance to escape surfaces—along with secrets she was never meant to uncover. As she steps into the unknown, one truth becomes clear: freedom comes with a cost she has yet to understand.

Your gut had never been wrong before. Living a life filled with needles and white-tiled walls, you learned quickly the only thing you could trust was instinct.

You had grown up in this place—HNL. You weren’t sure what it stood for; you only knew the badges said it. Men and women in white coats, clipboards clutched tight against their chests, guards shadowing their every move. The taste of metal. The hum of fluorescent lights. The static crackle of radios on the guards' hips. The sharp clack-clack of their polished black boots haunted your dreams.

You spent so long locked away in your padded cell you memorized the sounds—their patterns, like a grim symphony. One set of boots: just a guard. Two sets: a guard and a doctor, usually passing toward A-wing. Two sets, one faint and hesitant: Dr. Eikmo. He was the gentle one. Three sets: Dr. Brenner. The man who buried you in this corner of hell, far from any visitor’s earshot.

But tonight was different. A pressure, heavy and clawing, hung over the facility like a coiled storm. A tiger stalking its prey. Something was coming. Your palms itched, an ache deep in your bones. Maybe this could be the day—

WEEOOO— WEEOOO—

The alarms screamed over your head, deafening. The world plunged into darkness—and then bathed in an ominous, flickering red. The steel collar around your neck—the SDC—seemed to double in weight. Panicked, you clawed at the edges, fingers trembling as you brushed over the sensors you weren't supposed to touch. Every breath came sharp and fast. The noise. The darkness. The wrongness thick in the air.

“Breathe.” You tried to remember Dr. Eikmo’s voice. Deep breath. Calm down. But your heartbeat rattled against your ribs. Ding. The collar’s sensors awakened. BZZZTT! Pain exploded down your spine. You crumpled, screaming, fists slamming uselessly against the floor. Your whole body spasmed, twitching like a puppet with its strings yanked cruelly. The metal collar bit into your flesh, leaving the sharp scent of burning skin. You didn’t know how long you lay there, twitching against the cold tile. Minutes? Seconds?

Then–Bootsteps. Frantic. Dozens of them.

You forced yourself upright, muscles trembling. Pressing your face to the tiny reinforced window in the door. Two figures sprinted into view—white coats stained with blood and grime, wide eyes gleaming in the strobing red light. Dr. Layards leaned heavily against the wall, coughing, cradling his ribs. Behind him, Dr. Connors, sweat-slick and wild-eyed, dragged him forward.

"Connors! What about Nine?!" Layards gasped.

Connors barely looked at you. "Leave her! We don’t have the protocol to open that door!"

“But—” Layards hesitated, glancing desperately at your cell.

"That door's solid steel," Connors snapped. "She'll be fine."

You pounded on the glass, fists burning. “DON’T LEAVE ME!” Tears blurred your vision. You were real. You were alive. Why couldn’t they see you?

Another sound cut through the chaos. A roar—deep, guttural, wrong—ripped down the corridor like a blade through flesh. Both men froze. Connors’ face blanched. Layards stumbled. Without a second thought, Connors grabbed the other man's coat and dragged him away—away from you.

Gone.

You sagged against the door, throat raw, fists bruised, silent sobs shaking your body.

Breathe. Calm down. 

It didn’t work this time. Your heart surged again. You felt it: anxiety, horror, betrayal—

Ding. BZZZZZZT.

The collar fired again, seizing every nerve in your body. You crumpled sideways, sliding down the cold wall. Everything burned. The acrid scent of your own scorched skin filled the air. Your mind frayed at the edges, black spots blooming in your vision. You barely registered the sound of a beep at the door’s keypad.

Click. The door swung open. You squinted against the flickering red glow—and saw Dr. Eikmo burst through, gun in one hand, terror written all over his face. "Come on," he rasped, dropping beside you.

You whimpered as he fumbled at the back of your collar, jamming a small key into the lock mechanism. The click of release was the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. The SDC fell from your neck with a heavy clang. You gasped in pain but felt lighter—free. “Thank you,” you croaked, voice thin and broken.

Eikmo didn’t answer. He yanked off his blood-streaked coat and wrapped it around your shaking shoulders. His hands moved quick and efficiently, trembling just slightly.

“Dr. Eikmo,” you mumbled, voice slurring. "What's happening?"

He dug into his pocket, pulling out a small folded square—papers. He opened your hand and pressed them into your palm, curling your fingers around them. “Your file. Copies. Keep it safe. Don't lose it," he whispered. His eyes darted to the door, then back to you. "You don't understand everything yet. This...this will help.”

You stared, dazed. File? None of this made sense.

“I need you to follow me exactly,” Eikmo said. His voice cracked, raw with urgency. "No powers. No matter what. You understand?"

Your throat felt thick. You nodded.

He moved fast, keycard in hand, swiping the inside lock. The panel blinked green.

This was happening. You were getting out.

Before he opened the door, you found your voice again. “Doctor…what happened?” The question came out broken, childlike.

He hesitated. Something flickered across his face—fear, regret, sorrow. "We pushed the little girl from A-Ward too far," he said hoarsely. "She opened a...rift. A gate between worlds. We pushed too hard. Now were facing the consequences." Before you could even react, Eikmo grabbed your arm, yanking you into the corridor.

The world outside your cell was on fire. Bodies sprawled across the gleaming floor, blood slicking the tiles into a grotesque mirror of the pristine halls you once knew. Red warning lights bathed everything in violent, shifting shadows. The stench of iron and smoke clawed at the back of your throat. The screams in the distance. A cacophony of agony ricocheting off the sterile walls. You stumbled, your bare feet slapping wetly against the floor as you struggled to keep up. Eikmo’s strides were wide, desperate. Your legs burned trying to match him—but you weren't trained for this. You had been locked away, contained. 

The maze of corridors blurred together—twist after twist, endless white walls smeared with crimson fingerprints. Every heartbeat was a drum against your ribs. Every breath a razor in your throat. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Eikmo skidded to a halt at an unmarked steel door. He slammed his keycard into the scanner. BEEP. The lock clicked. He shoved it open with his shoulder, ushering you in, glancing back one last time. He turned to you, face grim. "This is a ventilation pipe," he said pointing to a hatch on the opposite side of the empty room, voice low but steady. "It was meant for maintenance or emergencies...chemical spills, that kind of thing. But instead of experimenting with chemicals," his voice broke slightly, "they chose to experiment on kids." He grabbed the heavy hatch wheel, straining as he twisted it open. The hinges groaned in protest, screeching against the silent red gloom. Beyond the door yawned a narrow black tunnel, pitch dark. A throat in the earth, swallowing light whole. 

"You need to crawl through," Eikmo instructed, urgency sharpening his voice. "Don’t stop. No matter how tight it gets. Keep moving forward."

You swallowed hard, peering into the suffocating darkness.

"You'll come out in the woods, far from the facility. It's the safest way out. Trust your gut when you get there. Avoid the roads. Avoid police if you can. They might not be on your side."

You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard it blurred your vision.

He crouched down to your level, fierce and unblinking. "And listen to me carefully—do not use your powers." His words were carved from stone. "If you do, they’ll find you. They built machines to track you. Equipment designed to catch you if you broke free." 

The thought made you instinctively draw your arms in closer. Hide yourself.

"Find people you can trust," Eikmo continued, softer now. "I’ll contact you when it’s safe."

You nodded, your fingers tightening around the crumpled file still tucked into his your coat. You turned your eyes toward the tunnel again. The black endlessness made your knees weak. Your breath caught. The fear clawed at your insides like a living thing.But then—Your gut stirred. It said move, go.

But still, you turned back toward Dr. Eikmo, heart clenching tight. "Thank you," you whispered, voice trembling at the edges. Tears stung your eyes—not from pain, not from fear, but from something deeper, something new. Gratitude. For the first time in your life, someone hadn't hurt you. Someone had helped.

Eikmo met your gaze, and for a moment, the cold, clinical mask he always wore crumbled. He looked at you like a father seeing a child walk free for the first time. "You're welcome," he said, the words cracking around the edges. He exhaled sharply and gave a small, shaky chuckle. "Just... don’t do anything stupid, alright?" 

A distant crash echoed down the corridors—a door being battered open. Shouts followed, sharp and commanding, growing louder by the second. Eikmo’s head snapped toward the sound. His face paled. "That's the military reinforcements," he hissed, urgency slicing through the last of his composure. "You need to go, now."

You shook your head. Without looking back, you dropped onto your hands and knees, the cold metal stinging against your skin. You crawled forward, into the darkness.

Behind you, Eikmo sealed the hatch. The heavy clank of the door echoed down the pipe, sealing your fate. You were alone. But you were free.

Please like, comment, and repost if you enjoyed and want to see more! <3

[jellofish-plant]

Flame Meets Fury

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Powered!Reader

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jason Todd is never boring—especially when you’ve got powers that can rival even the craziest of Gotham’s chaos. From vigilante missions to lazy nights at home, you and Jason navigate love, danger, and superpowered shenanigans.

Warnings:

A little language (it’s Jason Todd, after all)

Power mishaps and teasing

[Masterlist]

General Dynamic:

Mutual Respect: Jason admires your powers but never treats you like you're invincible or above him. He knows you're strong, but he’s fiercely protective, even when you don’t need him to be.

Banter Galore: If your powers involve something flashy (e.g., controlling fire, energy manipulation), Jason will joke about you stealing his thunder when fighting bad guys. “And here I thought I was the intimidating one.”

Training Together: Jason pushes you hard in training to make sure you can hold your own, not because he doubts your abilities, but because he wants you to be prepared for anything Gotham throws at you.

Combat & Vigilante Work:

Dynamic Duo: Your powers add a unique edge to your team-ups. Jason likes coordinating attacks, incorporating your abilities into his plans seamlessly.

Battle Banter: Jason can't resist making quips while fighting. If you’re doing something over-the-top with your powers, he might tease, “Show-off much?”

Healing Moments: If your powers include healing, Jason appreciates how quickly you patch him up after fights. He often jokes, “Don’t get too good at this, or I’ll lose my rugged charm.”

Domestic Life:

Power Mishaps: Sometimes, your powers get out of control at home, leading to funny or chaotic situations. Jason might come home to find you frantically trying to fix a scorched couch or repair the fridge you accidentally froze.

Helping Hand: Jason secretly loves when you use your powers to make mundane tasks easier. He acts grumpy about it but secretly enjoys it when you float items over to him or speed through chores.

Safety Net: If your powers include something like creating shields or force fields, Jason appreciates how you subtly use them to protect him in day to day situations, even if he doesn’t always admit it.

Emotional Connection:

Understanding Each Other’s Burdens: Jason relates to the weight of your abilities, especially if they come with responsibility or guilt. He opens up about his own struggles with being resurrected and the Red Hood mantle in late-night conversations.

Comfort During Nightmares: If your powers are tied to emotions, Jason instinctively knows when something’s off with you. He’ll hold you close and remind you that he’s there to ground you when things get overwhelming.

Vulnerability: Despite being tough, Jason has moments where he lets his guard down, admitting how your powers can make him feel vulnerable—not because he’s intimidated, but because he worries about you putting yourself at risk.

Fun Moments:

Pranks: Jason loves teaming up with you to prank the Batfamily using your powers. Whether it’s floating Alfred’s tray or making Damian’s sword disappear, you two are the ultimate mischief-makers.

Showing Off: Jason low-key loves watching you use your powers, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, yeah, very impressive,” he’ll say, but his smirk betrays him.

Power-Enhanced Cuddles: If your powers include creating warmth or generating soft light, Jason enjoys cuddling with you, especially on cold Gotham nights. He’ll joke that you’re his personal heater.

Batfamily Reactions:

Dick’s Teasing: Dick teases Jason endlessly about dating someone with powers. “Guess you finally met someone who can keep up with your attitude, huh?” Jason’s response is usually a death glare.

Alfred’s Approval: Alfred appreciates how your powers complement Jason’s fiery personality, and he often slips in kind remarks about how you’re good for him.

Damian’s Skepticism: Damian might act unimpressed, but he secretly thinks your powers are cool—he’s just too stubborn to admit it.

[spicy30]

Y'all ever see like a premise with so much potential, and then you read it and they sold tf out of it💔 Shit makes me so mad, like MOVE Imma write it my damn self. Lemme show you how its done 😭

[sweetvoidstuff]

A Normal Life is Just a Dream- Gravity and Gold

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) wants a normal university life, hiding her gravity powers, while Jungkook strives to be a perfect hero. When villains attack their campus, she is forced to make a choice—stay hidden or fight. Their encounter changes everything.

Masterlist

Story List

Wordcount: ~550

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please let me know—I’d love to hear your thoughts. I plan to publish one chapter per week, so stay tuned for more!

Chapter 1: A Normal Life is Just a Dream

The campus was bustling with life, a sea of students moving from one class to another, laughing, chatting, and stressing over assignments. You gripped the straps of your backpack tightly, keeping your head down as you weaved through the crowd going to the library. You had spent years mastering the art of invisibility—not literal invisibility, but blending in, keeping your powers a secret, and living like an ordinary student.

Because in this world, people with supernatural abilities were feared. Watched. Controlled.

And you wanted none of that.

Gravity bent to your will, the air itself lighter when you focused, objects drawn to your fingertips like celestial bodies obeying a hidden force - a force of nature, something untouchable and unseen. Yet, for you, it was something to be controlled, manipulated—something dangerous. But you refused to use it. You didn’t want dangerous. You wanted normal.

Which was why you sat at the farthest table in the university’s library, surrounded by the mundane sounds of shuffling papers and the quiet hum of whispered conversations. A physics textbook lay open before you, but your mind drifted, fingers absently spinning your pen in weightless defiance of the laws of motion. A small, personal rebellion. As long as no one noticed, it didn’t count as using your powers, right?

Across campus, however, someone had a very different philosophy about their abilities.

Jungkook lived for control.

Golden lightning crackled along his fingertips as he stood in the middle of an empty training hall, exhaling through clenched teeth. The air around him shimmered with electricity, the overhead lights flickering in response to the charge building within him. He stretched out his hand, watching the arcs of energy snap and curl around his palm. It still wasn’t perfect. He needed more precision, more mastery.

Heroes weren’t born—they were made. He was determined to become the best.

“Jungkook, you’re going to short-circuit the building again.”

The voice belonged to Namjoon, who leaned against the doorway with arms crossed, watching him with the exasperated patience of an older brother. Behind him, the rest of their team—Jin, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Hoseok—lingered, varying degrees of amusement and concern on their faces.

Jungkook smirked. “Not this time.”

A single bolt shot from his hand, striking the metal dummy in the center of the room. It hit with a resounding crack, but instead of scattering wildly like before, it coiled around the target and dissipated into controlled sparks. Satisfaction curled in his chest.

Hoseok let out a low whistle. “Show-off.”

Jimin elbowed him. “He has to be. How else is he gonna be the ‘Golden Hero’?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “It’s not about showing off. It’s about being ready.”

“Ready for what?” Yoongi drawled, looking unimpressed. “The exams are still months away.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. They all knew why he pushed himself harder than the rest. Villains didn’t wait for exams. They didn’t follow rules. The stronger he became, the better he could protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

“Come on, we’re grabbing food,” Jin said, slinging an arm over Jungkook’s shoulder. “You can be broody and heroic after you eat.”

Jungkook huffed but allowed himself to be dragged along. He could always train more later.

[zazter-den]

This is giving me Shiggy day-collar vibes

[Shop]

[neon-kazoo]

Hey, I hope you have a good day.

I was thinking about a small story with a Hero that has super strength and the muscles to show for it, meanwhile, Villain is in a dark corner, quietly enjoying (swooning over?) the show of strength the Hero displays (it can be whatever you want, the Hero can lift up a heavy wall or even just train).

It is up to you if you want the Hero to know of Villain’s presence or not :)

Of Swooning and Super Strength

(Warning: risk of training accident?)

The gym was closed to the public, but hardly anything was ever closed to the city’s golden savior. All the machines were free, all the weights available for use, and there was no one to protest Hero’s outrageously loud work out playlist.

A private setting, allowing for all the mirror flexing and shirtless benching the hero’s heart desired.

Well, it should have been private. Camouflage abilities certainly had their advantages.

As such, Villain leaned quietly against the wall of lockers with crossed arms and an excellent view.

Sweat dripped down hard and defined muscles, hair slick with the sheen of perspiration, skin so perfectly tanned-

Well, the city didn’t call them ‘golden’ for nothing.

Villain’s eyes traced every movement of the hero’s body as they raised an impressive stack over their head repeatedly. Briefly, they flicked to the weight labels, doing some quick mental math and—wow—if that wasn’t the weight of ten Villains combined.

Villain made a note to add ‘show off’ to hero’s growing list of titles, not that they minded at all.

And then it was off to the bench press, Villain’s personal favorite. Hero loaded on weight after weight, plate after plate until they ran out of room. They laid back and unracked the bar, pumping through at least 50 reps with ease. Villain found themselves a bit breathless with the display.

It wasn’t until Hero started to slow that Villain really started to pay attention, though.

Suddenly Hero was sporting a face Villain had never seen before. They looked…pained. They were struggling.

With a heavy bar above their neck.

Arrogant hero, attempting that much weight without a spot, super strength be damned. How embarrassing it would be for a hero to go down in a training accident, of all things.

For Villain’s hero to go down.

With a heavy sigh drowned out by the blasting of the Sing 2 soundtrack, Villain crossed the room and stepped up to the bar. The hero was far too busy straining with accompanying grunts in an attempt to re-rack the bar to notice. The villain’s hands hovered under the bar, as close as they dared to Hero’s peripheral vision.

Oddly, the temperature in the room seemed to rise with the proximity.

Regrettably, Villain lost track of the heavy rise and fall of the hero’s chest in favor of tracking the progress of the steel bar. After a tense few seconds, the crime-fighter managed to raise their arms the final inch and slide out from under the press.

Villain stepped back as the hero blew out a breath.

“Phew, close one.”

They sat up and—impossibly— their gaze drifted to where Villain had quickly retreated back to the shadows. Villain held their breath and a second passed before the hero winked and turned around.

The villain was too frozen to do much of anything while the hero pulled their shirt back over their head, grabbed their water bottle, and left.

[fruitsywriting]

Spirit

Title: Spirit

Chapter: Episode 2

Previous Chapters: part 1

Fandom: Invincible

Type of Fanfic: Reader, self-insert

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

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Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: mild swearing

Chapter Summary: Being from a barren wasteland of a universe to this new one is both exciting and overwhelming and it has been proven to be a difficult obstacle to tackle.

Pairings: Mark x reader, variant!mark x reader, Rex x reader, (one-sided) Eve x reader, multi-paul x reader, Rae x reader, bulletproof x reader, to be determined…

Written By: MangoSpit

⌜Alt Universe inspired by: Fallout⌟

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Your first day in your new world, your new normal, was the best day of your life since the day you were able to learn how to lockpick! Okay, to be honest, it may have been even better than the day you learned how to lockpick, but that day you were able to steal so much useful shit.

You have a place to yourself, a place that appeared to have belonged to Angstrom before, you assume so since he gave you the keys. You were able to shower without having to worry about getting poisoned or rationing clean water! You ACTUALLY smelt good! You didn’t think a good smell was ever possible but here you were. You were able to take your time to scrub the grime from your body, to massage your scalp and untangle your hair, and to wear different clothes. Yeah, you have to admit to yourself. This is the best day ever.

You had to wear the clothes that were abandoned in the closet, none of them felt right or comfortable but it was still fresh and new. You were so used to wearing the same clothes every day, and on a rare occasion getting new clothes to wear every day. But now? Now you get to wear a different outfit every day.

Going outside was a bit overwhelming at first, but still worth it. As the sun shone down on your face- it was much brighter than it was in your world. Well, I guess it would now be called your previous world, this was your new home. Looking around, you could hear strange high pitched noises. Turns out, they’re birds. Like crows and vultures but smaller and make a more pleasant sound.

Whenever someone approached you however, it was another story. They seemed friendly, but how likely was it that most of them were actually friendly? They probably were trying to kill you for your backpack. You would freeze and stare at them, blank and soulless until they left you alone. Even if you had a bad feeling about them, it was almost thrilling? Being able to see so many people, in new places and with new appearances. It almost made you giddy enough to let a small rumble of laughter come through your mouth. Not quite there yet.

It was getting late, the first day almost officially over when you finally figured out how to work the TV. You were killing this shit, maybe you could adjust to this new society after all…

“Invincible saved 20 civilians from a collapsing building-“

You perk up at the name.

That was the name of that guy!

You listen in closer as they explain his heroic actions in a positive light, showing what looked like him on the television. Was this what a recording was like? Were you being recorded? Could they hear you??

“I agree with you, Scott. His heroic acts were well thought out, and calculated in such expertise- you would think he has been doing this for over a decade”

The woman on the television laughs, not in a humorous way but as a way to fill the silence. It makes you sneer. Do these people not know of the crimes he’s committed? Of how awful of a person he is? The people he has slaughtered? Looking at his stupid fucking get up made your blood boil. What a manipulative piece of shit. He doesn’t even look trustworthy, he zips around in the sky like an oversized fly. Oh! No, more like an oversized wasp. Ready to sting.

You trust that Angstrom knows what he’s doing, that he will help bring Justice to everyone this Invincible guy has hurt. You commit his face to memory, trying to detail his jawline, lines, nose and hair to memory. This place was filled with people so you would have to burn the image of him to your brain to be able to try and pick him out from a crowd when he’s dressed like everyone else. Like a civilian.

You pull out your small notebook and write it down, as well as trying to sketch it out a bit, then write down what you heard on TV to report back to Angstrom. Your writing is sloppy at best and you completely butchered his portrait but who gives a fuck? He killed many innocents.

“Maybe I should kill you myself, Mr.Invincible…” you hum as you close your notebook. Tomorrow, tomorrow is a new day- and perhaps you will go out and look for him.

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“Are you askin‘ for a job, kid?” The man’s gravelly voice asks you. You furrow your eyebrows at being called a kid. Could a kid lockpick a door within 5 seconds and precisely hit a target from 50 feet away?

“Yes. A job.”

“What are your qualifications?”

“Uhh…. I am good at tracking people”

….

“This is a Wendy’s”

You were having the shittiest of luck finding a job. No one was looking for a tracker? A looter? A temporary guard? How do people keep a stable life without these jobs??

“Hey, you’re standing-“

You quickly glare at the man talking to you, your eyes burning holes into his face. He seems only slightly taken aback.

“No seriously, get out of the road. You’re going to get hit!”

The fuck is he talking bout?

Suddenly the big machines that were unmoving (which you had heard or read somewhere once that they were called vehicles) started moving and making a loud noise at you. You were about to yell at the people inside the machines- vehicles- when the man pulled you out of the road.

“The hell is wrong with you?” He says in a more confused and light tone.

“I don’t need help” your voice comes out rougher than your appearance as you don’t talk much when you hardly have people to talk to. Angstrom was probably the longest you’ve ever talked to someone, other than yourself.

“Uh, excuse me? Do you need, like, mental help?”

You glare at him, your eyes wide and unmoving.

“That won’t work on me twice. Cmon, let’s get you to the hospital. Maybe you suffered a brain injury or possibly are high” he motions for you to follow but you smack his hand away.

“Okay, now let’s not-“

You push him up against the street pole, and he groans and looks like he wants to retaliate but he collects himself first.

“Don’t make me have to call backup and have the cops hall you off to be drug tested instead”

“Are you threatening me??” Is he seriously threatening to call a gang on you?? How dangerous is this gang anyways?? Cops is a dumb name for a gang anyways, maybe they’re small and insignificant.

“No, I’m not threatening you, I'm trying to get you help.”

“Help is not free.” You hiss.

“Look, I can’t control the healthcare system, don’t take it out on me!”

“Rex, what’s going on?”

A woman approaches, causing you to go rigid. Shit, when did you have time to motion for his gang?

“I was just helping- HEY!”

You run. You run down the street, diving through bodies, colliding with them if they don’t move out the way fast enough. It was enough to earn angry shouting at you but you just had to get out of there. No way you were going to die on your second day in this new world. You try to run in the direction of your home but… you can’t remember where it was. Shit.

Just your luck.

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End notes: I like to think I’m hilarious sometimes

@weponxwrites @friedcreationgalaxy @rayaaa4444

[richelle-goodrich]

"Yes, love is a superpower. It is the ultimate superpower."

― Richelle E. Goodrich, Being Bold: Quotes, Poetry, & Motivations for Every Day of the Year

[v6quewrlds]

 am I the only one who thinks that I could see Joe and wifey turning up to Beyoncé or even going to her concert

oh this is so serious for her. she's gone to every beyonce tour since mrs. carter, has gone exclusively to the houston shows since formation, attended beychella both weekends in college.

joe knew the minute the tour was announced to look ahead, check the dates for the houston shows, and block those days off. joe will be dressed up in an outfit she chose (non-negotiable). she's been playing the album all the way through at least once a day since she bought the tickets to make sure he knows the words. she plays a lot of beyonce in general. he calls it brainwashing, she calls it education.

[nickeverdeen]

wahoo !!! are your requests awake ? immediately fell inlove with how you wrote five﹐and i knew i had to send in mail !!!

five x gn ! reader which he met an ordinary / average person﹐until they come in some ‘ unexpected combat ’ & something in them triggers their powers. ( you can choose their superpower﹐or keep it not said. )

i was thinking; they weren't drugged like Viktor﹐they were just unaware of their superpowers ? thank yew !!!

Yep, they’re awake and thanks for the request!

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Five x gn!reader who he thought is ordinary, but is proved wrong (hcs)

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Warning: Fighting, shooting, attempted murder

Reader’s power: Bioluminescent constructs

Definetion of Reader’s power: Creating objects using light emitted by living organisms, like fireflies, for combat purposes like creating weapons, shields or barriers

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After another long day Five, seeks a moment of respite from the chaos of his own thoughts

He finds himself drawn to a quaint coffee shop tucked away in the bustling city streets

The coffee shop has a steady hum of conversations in the backround and comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee

It seems like a paradies for Five

Suddenly Five’s attention is unexpectedly captivated by the presence of a seemingly ordinary individual seated alone at a nearby table

Despite his initial reservations, as soon as he got his coffee, Five decides to strike up a conversation with the enigmatic stranger, drawn in by you for some reason

As you engage in idle chit-chat, Five finds himself surprisingly at ease in your company, your easy banter providing a welcome distraction from the weight of his own burdens

Though Five initially views you as just another face in the crowd, he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something different about you

It’s a sense of familiarity that he can’t quite place

As your conversation comes to an end and you start to part ways, Five can’t help but feel a lingering curiosity about you

Your brief interaction leaving a lasting impression on him

As Five navigates the crowded city streets, his senses alert him to the presence of shadowy figures lurking in the shadows, their sinister intentions veiled beneath a facade of normalcy

Assassins from Comission, a lot of them

Before he can react properly, the air is rent with the sharp crack of gunfire as the agents of the Commission make their move, their weapons trained on Five with deadly precision

Panic surges through Five as he realizes the gravity of the situation, his mind racing as he teleports a bit away from the chaos unfolding around him

As soon as Five regains his composure he starts fighting as the years of working for the Comission pay off to him

During the fight Five is too preoccupied with the assassins near him to notice the ones in distance

As soon as they fire Five realizes that he’s about to get hit as he won’t make it in time

As the loud shooting continues you feel a small pain in your veins and the pain worsens the more your body tensing when the shooting continues

Just when it seems as though all hope is lost for Five, a sudden surge of bioluminescent energy erupts from you as the loud shooting triggers your powers

Your powers awakening in a blaze of light and energy as they instinctively shield Five from harm creating a barrier to shield him and the bullets dodge back into the shooters

With newfound clarity, Five watches in disbelief as you unleashe your formidable abilities

Your constructs of light and energy manifesting with dazzling brilliance in the darkness

As soon as Five realizes that you obviously are also new to this power he springs into action, his movements fueled by a surge of adrenaline as he engages the assassins with you while keeping an eye on you

With each attack exchanged and each foe vanquished, you and Five draw closer together

Your movements synchronized in a seamless display of teamwork and coordination

As the last assassin dies against the might of your combined forces, Five immediately starts to check-up on you making sure you’re alright and your power is at bay

Once you’re both safely in more private setting, Five wastes no time in confronting you about the extraordinary display of power he witnessed, his curiosity piqued as he never saw a power like that

You’re meanwhile, hesitant to reveal too much too soon, while still being shaken up and confused from what happened

As soon as Five notices your distress he quickly starts calming you down and explain what’s happened and what your powers mean and do

As you engage in a serious conversation, you and Five find yourselfs opening up to each other in unexpected ways, in order to figure things out

By the end of your discussion, you and Five reach a mutual understanding and accept his offer to help you control your powers while studying them in the process

Though the path ahead may be uncertain, Five makes sure you know you can rely on him and tell him anything

At the end of the day to calm your nerves he takes you to his favourite coffee shop and pays for everything while trying to make you feel safe

Over time you and Five learn to respect each other and you feel safe around Five and open up to him about any of your problems

[raining-anonymously]

if you were formerly a mind reader, answer as if you still are. if you are not a mind reader but at some point will be, answer as if you’re not a mind reader.

CONTEXT: a time loop code is a secret phrase, string of numbers, et cetera, that ONLY YOU KNOW. you do not write it down. you do not tell ANYONE—unless they tell you they’re in a time loop. this way, if anyone comes up to you and says they’re in a time loop, they’ll already have a way to prove themselves: by saying your time loop code, which they couldn’t have known unless they asked you in a previous loop (or if they’re a mind reader).

[sillygoose067]

A Masked Promise

Ch.33

Dick Grayson(Nightiwng) x Reader

Warning(?): PLOT TWIST(I think) hehe, blood, injuries

The air was suffocating. Thick with smoke and tension, the warehouse trembled under the weight of what was happening within its walls. The Titans stood at the edges of the chaos, their faces painted with worry and helplessness as they watched Nightwing and Deathstroke collide in a brutal storm of fists, blades, and rage.

Nightwing wasn’t fighting like himself. Every calculated, precise movement that once defined him was gone. He fought like a man possessed, reckless and unrelenting. His blows were wild, fueled by pain and fury, landing with the kind of force that sent cracks splintering through the concrete beneath their feet.

“Dick…” Dawn whispered, but her voice was lost to the cacophony of the fight.

Rachel reached out, her fingers trembling as she whispered, “This isn’t him. He’s… he’s lost in it.”

Kory’s fists clenched at her sides. “We can’t just stand here and let this happen.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Donna said, her voice tight, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. “This is his fight.”

Slade dodged one of Nightwing’s furious strikes, his movements calculated and fluid. His mocking grin was gone, replaced by a grim expression. He was struggling to keep up, his usual confidence shaken as Nightwing’s relentless assault forced him to retreat step by step.

“You’ve lost control, boy,” Slade growled, ducking under a swing and countering with a sharp jab to Dick’s ribs. “You’re nothing but a blunt instrument now. Is this it, boy? Is this the best you’ve got? All that grief, all that anger, and you still can’t finish me?”

Dick didn’t respond. He didn’t even seem to register Slade’s words. His fists continued to fly, his movements sharp but erratic, like a man chasing the only thing holding him together: vengeance.

Another strike landed on Dick’s side, forcing him back. Slade followed up with a sharp kick, sending Nightwing skidding across the floor. He hit the ground hard, his body rolling before slamming into a metal beam with a sickening crack.

The Titans flinched as one. Gar took a step forward, his body tensed as if to intervene, but Donna held him back with a firm hand on his arm.

“Wait,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Dick pushed himself to his feet slowly, blood trickling from a cut on his temple. His chest heaved, his breaths ragged, but his eyes—burning with fury—never left Slade.

“You should’ve stayed down,” Slade said, raising his blade. “You’re no match for me like this. You never were.”

But Nightwing didn’t care. He surged forward with a guttural roar, his escrima sticks flashing as they clashed with Slade’s blade. The sound of metal against metal rang through the air, each clash a desperate attempt to overpower the other.

Slade managed to land a blow that cut across Dick’s chest, a shallow but painful wound that sent him staggering. The Titans gasped in unison, but before anyone could react, something impossible happened.

Slade’s blade came too close, cutting toward Dick’s chest, aimed directly at his heart. For a moment, time seemed to slow. But before the blow could land, a golden barrier erupted around Dick, shimmering with an otherworldly energy. The blade ricocheted off the shield harmlessly, and Slade stumbled back in shock.

“What the hell?” Slade hissed, his grip tightening on his weapon.

The Titans froze, their eyes widening as the golden orb pulsed, radiating warmth and power. Inside it, Dick stood still, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on Slade with unrelenting fury.

Nightwing's focus remained entirely on Slade, his rage undeterred by the glowing shield now surrounding him.

The Titans’ confusion deepened as the golden light pulsed, steady and powerful, radiating a warmth that contrasted sharply with the violent chaos of the fight.

Then, a voice broke through the tension.

“Stop.”

It was faint, almost distorted, but it was unmistakably yours.

All heads turned toward the pillar where your body had been left.

You weren’t lying there anymore.

Your form hovered in the air, bathed in the same golden glow as the shield surrounding Dick. The light emanated from you, soft yet impossibly powerful, and your face, though pale and ethereal, held an expression of serene determination.

Rachel’s eyes widened, her voice trembling as she whispered, “It’s her…”

Donna stared, speechless, while Gar took a step back, his mouth falling open in shock. Kory’s fiery glow dimmed as she simply stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

“Dick.”

It was your voice, soft and distorted, as though carried on the wind. It wasn’t audible to the others—it was inside his head, cutting through the haze of his rage.

“Gray, stop.”

His body stiffened. His breath hitched. For the first time since the he'd witnessed you fall, he hesitated.

“Please… come back,” your voice whispered, calm but resolute.

The words cut deeper than any blade. He faltered, his grip on his escrima sticks loosening as your voice echoed in his mind, drowning out everything else.

“He's not worth it,” you said, the warmth in your tone like a lifeline pulling him from the abyss.

He blinked, the world around him coming back into focus. The golden light surrounding him pulsed again, and he turned, his eyes searching for you.

And there you were.

Your body, once lifeless near the pillar, was now floating in the air, bathed in the same golden glow as the orb around him. Your eyes were closed, your expression serene as your voice continued to resonate in his mind.

“Let it go, Gray. Let me help you.”

Slade snarled, his confusion giving way to anger as he lunged forward. But before he could get close, another wave of golden energy burst from your form, sending him flying across the room. He crashed into a pile of crates, coughing as he struggled to stand.

“Y/N…” Dick whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at you.

But you didn’t turn his way. Your form remained still, suspended in the air, your glow intensifying as you turned your focus to Slade.

“You’ve done enough,” you said, your voice echoing through the room, no longer just in Dick’s mind. “You’ve taken enough.”

Slade laughed bitterly, wiping blood from his mouth. “What are you? Some kind of ghost? You think you can stop me?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, the golden light around you coalesced, forming tendrils of energy that lashed out at him. Each strike was precise, hitting his weak points and leaving him crumpled on the floor, battered and broken.

The Titans watched in stunned silence, their disbelief mirrored in the shock on Slade’s face. He tried to rise, but the energy pinned him down, rendering him powerless.

And then, it was over.

The glow around you began to fade, and your body wavered in the air before slowly descending. Dick rushed forward, his heart pounding as he caught you in his arms.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice breaking as he cradled you.

You slumped against him, your body limp but warm, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You were alive.

Relief flooded through him, his grip on you tightening as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re breathing,” he murmured, almost in disbelief, more to himself than you. “You’re okay.”

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, but you managed a weak smile. “Gray…” you whispered. “What… what happened?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I don’t care. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

The Titans gathered around, their expressions a mix of relief and confusion. But before anyone could speak, a low groan drew their attention.

Slade was still alive, barely conscious and utterly defeated. The golden energy had left him scarred and broken, his body too damaged to fight back.

“What do we do with him?” Donna asked, her voice hushed.

Dick didn’t answer. His focus was entirely on you, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face as he whispered, “You’re safe now.”

But even as the golden light faded completely, your question hung in the air: what just happened?

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